Alana the Black Mage: Funny you should ask about Wraith, because the way I pictured is that he doesn't die, and is transferred to another ship with Winter just before Neo is found. They actually fall in love (despite sexual tensions between them) and appear in one of my future stories which I'm working on. Thanks for reviewing and enjoy!

Protectress of Dalidon: I don't deserve an award! But hey, what am I saying. Please do! Lol. And because you've been a faithful reviewer, have this squishy key chain shaped like Morpheus!

Gordo4life: Last chapter is right here. Thanks for your review!

Alocin: Yes! My next story is Trinity as well. She's my favourite character after all. And I'm not sure marshmallows would be best prepared with fire from a burning corpse… but who knows?

*Sniff* I will miss you all. THANKS FOR THE GREAT REVIEWS!

Disclaimer: Wachowski's.

Note: Quinn's fate is decided, and I hope I did some good. It's tragic in a sense, and she does not make the Matrix into the new Buffy the Vampire Slayer!


Chapter 12: But You Still Have All of Me

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Morpheus asked, just making sure Trinity's judgement wasn't clouded by a childish obsession. She gave a weak sigh, sitting in the chair and nodded shakily. She knew that she could just go on without talking to Quinn. She knew that she could have simply walked away, but she nodded all the same. The captain empathized, allowing her to go in by herself.

The plug moved into the socket, making her tighten her eyelids as the LOAD button was pressed. She was dropped into the construct, in front of a coffee table with a single handgun placed upon it. Trinity took it, feeling the handle in her hands. She assumed it would have been Wraith's idea, but she didn't press on the matter from lack of time and lack of strength. She would go speak to Quinn, and that would be all.

The construct faded, placing her on a fairly busy city street.

"This is as close as I could get you." Tank said through the cell phone. She nodded, forgetting that he could not hear the action. "Morpheus says to not be too long."

"This won't take long." Trinity knew in her heart Quinn would storm off on some rampage. But she had to try. Sleepless nights were worth every angry word she could hear Quinn scream at her.


Erica hadn't heard a noise all night, and she had kept the television off just to make sure the house was as silent as she had thought. Sure enough, there was not a whisper. The ancient floorboards didn't crack and the whole house seemed empty, even though Quinn's strange aura was still able to penetrate it. She'd left her sketchbook on the table, several papers falling from the crisp pages and fluttering over the surface of the coffee table. She wasn't usually so careless, especially with two drunks in the house, but their mother and Tom were going out for the weekend. Erica also found Quinn's imagination getting the better of her, finding pictures of a car wreck and a Jack the Ripper inspired picture of the two dying.

Worry wasn't the way she felt for Quinn. On the contrary, Erica found that she had no concern for Quinn and her melancholic interest in death. She could figure it out someday, and the older of the two was not about to reprimand her for picturing their mother dying. If she could draw half as well as Quinn, Erica could see herself doing the same.

Curiously though, Erica knew she should have been able to hear something through the house. Whether it be Quinn's charcoal or someone trotting back and forth in the bedroom, thinking to themselves about new photographs or pondering about death. It made her feel empty inside, as if every inch of her was hollow. Erica stood up, glancing at her wrists. The stitches would be removed the day after tomorrow, making her quite happy. She doubted it would be the last time she would see them, since Quinn had been sketching them relentlessly.

She got up, walking to the stairs and half expected her hear Quinn do something. But nothing happened, the whole house was just…empty. Erica climbed up the stairs, making her way to the hallway where the bedroom doors lay open. She moved around the corner, actually finding Quinn's door ajar, and the window beyond wide open as the wind poured through it. The blinds fluttered on the breeze, dancing on the sweet wind.

But Quinn wasn't inside.

"Quinn?" Erica asked quietly. She looked about the room, the small bedside lamp on and giving off a small yellow glow. Different colours of light bulbs lay on the bed, next to her four different cameras and rolls of film. Sketchbooks were in a pile on her desk, stretching at least a foot high. Next to them were novels, which had a habit of strewing themselves over her room. Requiem for a Dream caught Erica's eye, along with Plato's The Republic on her bedside table.

"Quinn." She said again, a little more loudly this time. A foot hit the window sill and with a good grip on the roof above her, Quinn lowered herself down, staring vividly at her sister. Her blue eyes were struck with the light, the pupils shrinking so tiny her eyes looked almost all white. Erica sighed a little as her sister moved back outside. She walked over to the window, watching Quinn swing herself onto the slants of the roof overlooking their backyard. The ground was painted in the moonlight, striking their pale skin and making them look like fantasy creatures.

Erica pulled herself up as well, seating herself next to her younger sibling who was watching the street beyond the trees in the front yard. The car headlights moved down the streets the cars turning invisible as the light of the street lamps escaped them. Their eyes were like ice as the moon came down upon them.

"I want to jump." Quinn admitted nonchalantly, like she was making normal, everyday conversation. "But I don't want to hit the ground." Her eyes were continuing to look off the edge of the house, staring longingly at the ground and willing it mentally to disappear so she could continue falling and falling. Erica breathed heavily.

"Why death?" She asked, watching her sister with the same morbid interest Quinn had for her. Her sister didn't shrug. She proceeded to say the most Erica had ever heard her say in one of their conversations since childhood.

"It's dreaming in silence." Quinn said, closing her eyes and feeling the world around her. "It's beautiful, like the taste of tears and blood."

Erica looked away, at the ground and further off then the fences around their house. She had assumed for so long that Quinn would have been the first to take up the knife, but now it was she.

"I want to get out of here." Her younger sister spoke, bringing Erica back to her with their eyes meeting for a brief moment. "It's the only escape route I know."

Quinn looked at her sister and moved over to the edge of the house. She stood up, reaching her arms out and tilted forward a little. Erica got up frantically, grabbing hold of her sister's shoulder and pulling her back onto the roof.

"Stop it." Quinn said sternly, looking directly at her sister as they stood on the roof. Erica closed her eyes and looked away, down at the ground. "You can't pull me back."

"But you can pull me back?" Erica asked, recalling the sound of the phone as her heart beat slowed. Quinn shook her head.

"I didn't pull you back, Erica." She said quietly. "You brought yourself back."


Trinity walked slowly into the graveyard. The memories of their bonfire came back to her. The way it felt to be rid of her like that made her whole body split apart, like every piece of her was lifting further and further away. It was beautiful to feel that, breathing heavily the scents of the flowers that grew throughout the cemetery. A small group of people were gathered around one, under the tree far off in the distance, watching the pastor give small blessings.

The rain seemed to haunt her from that day, making her lift his head in remembrance, trying to remind herself of the way it felt. Trinity moved forward a little more, looking through the rows. She begged her mind to remember where her mother's grave was.

She found that her feet knew better, moving quickly to the back of the graveyard. It was the cast iron fence that struck her memory. She recalled the cool feeling of it under her hand while the other clutched a shovel close by. Trinity moved quickly, her hands at her sides.

She had expected to find her sister seated at the grave, sketchbook and charcoal in hands as Quinn drew the corpse. Instead the grave was empty, the same grave of her mother that had been the source of the 'majestic' sibling bonfire. Trinity, closed her eyes, almost in defeat. She wanted to call Tank and ask him to trace the delinquent for her, but she was keen on finding her sister without help.

"Back here again?" A gruff voice asked. Trinity turned, looking at the source of the voice. The cemetery worker was about eighty, carrying around a bucket filled with soap and a sponge in his other. He realized his mistake. "Oh. Not you. Never mind."

"Do you know the girl who comes here?" She asked him, watching him moving down the path.

"I don't know no one who ain't dead." He spat back, walking faster. Trinity looked at the ground and moved after him. The cemetery worker looked back at his with his dark eyes. "You still following me?"

"I need to know who comes to this grave." Trinity demanded. The worker shook his head.

"I don't know anybody who ain't dead."

"Tell me!" Trinity demanded. The worker stopped, exhaling heavily.

"That girl might as well be dead." He told her. "She sketches the funerals sometimes. You can find her over in the park. Pretty messed up kid." Trinity nodded, taking off quickly. The worker watched her leave, turning away.


The small park lay just beside the cemetery, small and secluded surprisingly on such a nice day. The sun light was broken through the trees, cracking on the green, grassy ground. Small drops of dew sparkled like diamonds as Trinity moved through the trees that surrounded the fence and playground.

She was actually afraid of seeing her sister again. Her heart was pounding with a great amount of force, and if she thought about it hard enough, she could actually feel her rib cage vibrate. She could see the black waves of hair bent over the sketchbook as the recognizable face of her sister started to come into view. Trinity was a good distance away, and she noticed that her feet had stopped walking. She was pausing, trying to think things through and figure out whether this is what she wanted to do or not.

Come on Trinity, the voice in her mind begged. You could just leave. You could just walk away and neither of us would care.

No. I'm going to do this. I have to get this over with.

Trinity walked forward, her heels stumbling slightly over the uneven ground. Quinn's box of pencils was open next to her, charcoal bits and eraser pieces laying on a open layer of cloth. Trinity knew that cloth. It was Quinn's baby blanket. The same blanket that she had cuddled her sister with on her first day at home.

She stopped, unable to walk anymore. Quinn hadn't noticed or cared about her presence, and Trinity knew that she still had an escape route. She could walk away at any time.

Get moving, Trinity, the voice ordered.

Her feet kept walking.


"You're taller then when you left." Quinn commented dryly, to no one in particular as Trinity approached her in the park. She continued to watch her sketchbook, the pencil still moving over the drawing. A quick glance at Trinity and Quinn was satisfied, staring at her art. "I thought you didn't like high heels."

Trinity felt a little shut down now at the comment of her boots. She looked at her feet, shifting them nervously as she moved closer and stood about a foot or so from her sister's form. Quinn obviously had no intention of even acknowledging her sister's presence.

"I need to talk to you." Trinity said, watching her sister. Quinn set the pencil into her pile and picked up her eraser, bring it down over the dark line and shading her drawing.

"We never talk." Quinn said, clearly not sharing the same desire for conversation as her sister did. "And we never will talk. Don't waste your breath."

Trinity closed her eyes. She didn't think it would be this difficult. Quinn never took a stand for herself. She was feeding off repressed anger, proof that she too was haunted by the memories of her sibling.

"I wanted to apologize." Quinn stopped smudging that shadow in her picture and finally lifted her head, looking at her sister. Her eyelids were covered in black mist, the blue-grey masses staring at Trinity with a haunting amount of anger.

"For what?" She asked, looking back down at her art. Erica knelt beside her sister, her arms bent over her knees.

"For leaving." Erica said quietly. Quinn continued colouring, not interested. "Quinn." Erica said finally, looking at her sister. "Look at me."

Quinn looked up at her, crystal tears moving from her eyes. She stared into Erica through the sunglasses, watching her sister.

"Take them off." She commanded, her black hair lifted on a playful burst of wind. Erica reach upward, removing the glasses and showing herself at last to her sister. The two souls were attacking one another, their gazes penetrating the other. Quinn was significantly better at this, having practised with her art at working her way through an object. Erica was forced to look away.

"I've hated every moment in my life, Erica." She said, addressing the warrior by her given name. Tears were falling down her cheeks, moving over her chin and dropping onto her lap. "I found more comfort in death then I ever found in waking up in the morning." She was admitting this to Erica, to Trinity, who was staring at the ground as if ashamed with herself. "Nobody understood that I hated every single moment I was living."

Erica had nothing to say. She could feel her heart pounding and a smooth tear move over her cheek and down her face. Quinn was speaking every word of the truth, completely angry at herself and at her sister.

The wind billowed again, playfully tossing Quinn's hair.

"I wanted you to let me fall that night." She said. "But I couldn't let you fall because you were the only constant in my life." Erica looked up, their glossy eyes meeting in a stand still as the wind sympathized with Quinn's emotions. "I knew you didn't need me. But for Christ's sake, I needed you."

"Quinn, I wouldn't be alive today if you had jumped that night." Trinity spoke like a stone. Erica came back in and looked at Quinn, realizing just how different they really were. She wiped the tears away. "I did need you."

The smaller girl was breaking slowly, the pieces of her fragile nature melting away to the soft human inside. The white scar on her knuckles was very evident on her skin, the pinkish hue of her hands bearing the snow white line proudly.

Erica could feel her sister's grip on her arm the whole way to the hospital. She could still feel the punch to her face the night on the driveway. She could still feel the way it felt to burn her mother's corpse on consecrated ground. But Trinity couldn't. Trinity couldn't understand the feelings that Erica could.

"I've been dreaming in black and green." Quinn said, turning her attention back to the world before her. She seemed to alive in it, the way artists and poets always seemed. Everything about her was so happy in that place, even though the tears in her eyes betrayed everything she was actually feeling. Erica watched her. "I know you've been seeing the green rain."

She nodded slowly to her sister's statements.

"I can't come with you." Quinn said. Erica's brow furrowed. Her sister looked back. "We can't keep stopping one another."

Quinn breathed very deeply, her sister and she locked in silence. Finally the younger of the two spoke again.

"It's time to let go." She decided, so sure of herself as she spoke the words. Trinity found the meaning behind them as Erica searched for it. The warrior finally nodded, reclaiming her stone like face and features. Quinn nodded, allowing a final tear to fall as she looked around the park again.

Erica moved her eyes slowly over her sister's artwork. The picture was of a black haired woman slowly slashing away at her skin as the pieces of flesh dropped to the ground. It took her a moment more to realize the woman had her own face.

For what seemed to be the first time in her life, Erica took her sister in a hug without her sister making the first move. Quinn started to quiver, holding her sister tightly as she buried her face in the black leather of her sister's trench coat. Erica took in her sister's scent, the smell of the Matrix telling her mind that she was wearing perfume.

But Erica knew that the feeling at that moment was real

Quinn let her sister go, looking at her face. She closed the sketchbook on her lap and moved slowly, picking up the pencils and setting them inside the case. Trinity heard her cell phone ring, and she was distracted only for a moment as she opened up the line.

"Trin, she's got a gun." Tank said frantically. Her eyes moved back to Quinn who snatched the weapon from the garter under her skirt. The hand gun was the same from the night of her sister's disappearance, and before Erica could stop her Quinn had put it to her temple and jumped away from her sister.

"Put the gun down!" Trinity shouted, dropping the cell phone. Her younger sister held the gun still, her finger still on the trigger. "Quinn, put the god damn gun down now!"

"You can't baby me, Erica." She said, so sure of herself as she heard the gun next to her.

"I'm not babying you, now put the gun down!"

Quinn shook her head. Erica dashed forward, prepared to stop her.

Defiantly, her sister pulled the trigger.


"I would die for you." The conversation had ended, but Quinn repeated herself anyways. The fire burned high into the night, making their face glow yellow in the firelight. Erica stared at the bonfire, watching their mother burn endlessly. For some reason, neither of them had ever felt better, even though they now stunk of the burned corpse and the smoke was clogging their lungs. Everything was better and happier, now that their mother never existed.

"I don't need you to die for me." Erica said to her sister. Quinn didn't move, her eyes still visualizing her mother's screaming spirit rising from her tomb. Erica saw the same thing.

"What do you need, Erica?" Quinn asked quietly. Erica pulled her sister closer and lowered her head onto hers, the two bonded now better then they had ever been before. She didn't have an answer to the question, so she breathed heavily and answered with the same thing everyone said.

"I need you." She said quietly, so silent in fact that Quinn couldn't hear her. Her younger sister remained as ignorant to her answer as Erica had. "Quinn would you ever kill yourself?"

"Yes." She whispered in reply. Erica lowered her head. Her sister fixed her answers. "Only if I knew I didn't have anything else to hang on to."

"What do you need to hang on to?" Erica asked, finally turning her head. Quinn looked over at her, blue eyes shimmering in the dark. Her sister and she were silent and they turned their head back to the fire, watching it blaze into the night.

"You." Quinn finally said, but Erica didn't hear her. She watching the clouds rise over them.


Erica hurled herself into Quinn, the two falling back on the ground. The gun dropped from her hands, the bullet moving over Trinity's shoulder and opening the leather coat. Quinn breathed heavily, her heart pounding in perfect unison with Erica's as they lay on the ground, blood moving from the older sister's shoulder and rolling over Quinn in thick, crimson rivers. She shivered under her sister, her fist tightening where the gun used to reside.

"Why would you do that?" Erica demanded, shaking her sister. "Why would you even try something like that?" Quinn was crying again, watching her sister exert her agony onto her with her powerful shakes. She felt every year of anger.

"Because you could not! Because no one else could find the strength to do it!" Erica felt the words hit her straight in the chest, making her close her eyes and breathe in deeply.

"Quinn, I would never do that." She said. "Don't you get that?" Quinn remained silent. "Don't you?"

They were completely quiet, their lips unmoving as they stared at one another. Sadness itself was personified in each of their eyes, and as Trinity stood up to leave it made no difference. Her eyes were still weighted with pain and hurt as she watched her sister reach for the gun again.

Trinity turned. She wasn't going to stop her sister for a second time. If Quinn was so intent on killing herself, neither Erica nor Trinity was going to stop her again. She was diligent. Eventually, she'd succeed.

She picked up her cell phone, moving away slowly. She looked around the park at the ignorance of the people who had simply walked away at the first sign of scuffle. Trinity opened her cell phone, ready to have an exit prepared.

She had assumed Quinn's answering bullet would be heard any time soon, but she didn't hear anything. As she hung up, Erica turned one last time.

Quinn was seated again, drawing in her sketchbook. Trinity lowered her head.

Nobody could save Quinn anymore, not even her.

She walked back down the street, moving to the ringing payphone. She picked it and gave a retreating glance at the park, unsure of where this path would lead her.

Without another thought, she pressed the phone to her ear.


It has been completed, in the likeness of the mighty Trinity. I hope no one was disappointed with the ending. I was too attached to Quinn to have her die, but the thought of her becoming Michelle Trachtenburg? That's like making an AU Matrix in which she's the REAL ONE! Perhaps she will return, perhaps not.

My next story will hopefully be posted soon, although I'm not promising anything since I am going away for a week after Christmas. So if the first chapter is up and the second takes more then a week to upload, I haven't died!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and Merry Days to everyone who read and reviewed this story! Hope to hear from all of you again!