Just a short (for me, anyway) rambling that hit me Friday night. It's pretty sweet and mushy, so if you don't like unabashed romance turn around. No dialogue, which is something I'd never done with interactions between two people.

For those of you who would like to know, the title comes form a beautiful choral piece called "Sleep", written by Eric Whitacre for a old woman whose husband had died. The wife was so devastated at having lost her true love, to whom she had been married for many decades, that she died of a broken heart just months later. It's a beautiful piece that brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it. If you'd like the lyrics, just ask. I still have the music and lyrics from when we played/sang it in Symphonic band last year.

Disclaimer: I own no characters mentioned here. Too bad, huh?

Neo watched as Trinity's eyes moved beneath her closed lids. She was dreaming, but about what he didn't know...it must be relatively peaceful, though, because she wasn't jerking too much. But then again, that could also be because she was in that deep stage of sleep where your body is paralyzed -- according to his high school psychology teacher, anyway.

He had never known how relaxing it was to watch someone sleep until he had watched her. The deep, slow breaths...in and out, in and out. The strong, steady heartbeat beneath his hand. The little twitches of her fingers or legs. The soft sighs as she moved to a more comfortable position. It was an amazing thing to see. He would give up on working through insomnia just to experience this extreme closeness to the woman he loved, to see her dream.

Her eyes had stopped moving; she was progressing to another stage. Which was it? Something like theta, or beta...or alpha? Maybe it was delta. He couldn't really remember...eleventh grade was a lifetime in the past.

Neo was glad that Trinity was sleeping. She hadn't had time to have a full night's sleep in almost two weeks; it wasn't healthy. There was always something happening, some mission to be done or a pipe to be fixed or a mess to be cleaned up. So many people relied on her everyday...sometimes they forgot that she was only one woman and had her own needs and desires to fulfill.

Morpheus told them while they were eating -- dinner, was it? -- that he had turned their course toward Zion, much to the crews' relief. The captain hadn't mentioned how long they would stay, but it would probably only be a day, maybe more maybe less. However long it was, though, Neo was looking forward to the time he could spend with Trinity, alone and off duty. He loved Zion. He loved her.

He was brought form his musing when she made a soft noise in the back of her throat which turned into a small cough. She'd been doing that a lot lately, coughing like that. Sometimes she'd hide it behind her hand, trying to keep it a secret, but both he and Morpheus had noticed. Looking at her now, vulnerable and peaceful, brought a pang of something to Neo's heart. He wasn't sure what is was, exactly, but it wasn't a feeling he liked.

Neo lifted a hand to her cheek, the skin smooth and warm beneath his yet uncalloused fingers. He'd had this thought in the very back of his mind, the nagging feeling that just as easily as she'd come into his life she could be taken away. He wasn't sure what it was that could take her away -- death, illness, boredom? -- but he certainly didn't want it to happen. Surely it wouldn't be death in the Matrix; she was the woman who could hold her own against an agent or two in a room full of police, one of the Resistance's most valuable soldiers. But illness? Yes, that was a possibility. Couldn't it be that she could be overcome with some disease, like pneumonia, and die like that? He knew it was a death common nowadays, one he wasn't sure he liked very much. He himself would rather go down fighting, as he was sure Trinity wanted as well.

She moved in her sleep a bit, scooting an inch or so closer to him. He grinned slightly, letting his eyes follow his fingers as they ran lightly over her face. Her forehead -- uncreased for once -- and her closed eyes...the creases there were the ones he liked, the laugh lines. Her temples and eyebrows, such contrasting colors. Then one finger down her thin nose and over her slightly parted lips. So beautiful...the omnipresent lighting made her skin glow, giving her the innocent, peaceful air of an angel. She was an angel. His angel, the guardian spirit sent from above to watch and protect him.

Unable to resist, he leaned forward and kissed the side of her face. One taste was not enough so he kissed her temple, then the tip of her nose. Trinity sighed and her lips curved up a bit at the corners. He pulled away slightly just as her eyes fluttered open. Before she could question his motives, he pressed his mouth to hers, drinking her in. She didn't seem to mind and slowly parted her lips. Though he didn't always like to wake her when she was sleeping so peacefully, this was certainly nice -- no question about it.

Neo pulled away after a moment to look at her. She met his gaze with her own and he was glad to see no pain there, no worry or depression. Just the contented, loving shine in those blue eyes that was so rare yet so cherished. She blinked slowly before putting her hand on the back of his head and pulling him back to her.

Their lips met again, this time with more urgency. Her hands slid down his already-bare back, leaving a trail of warmth behind. One of his arms came to rest on the mattress on her other side as he shifted his weight to be closer, almost on top of her, while his other fingers traced imaginary lines from her breasts to her waist to her hips and back again, reveling in the sensation of her bare skin against his. His mouth left hers, only to place small kisses all over her face -- forehead, temples, cheeks, eyelids, the corners of her mouth, her chin, up her jaw bone, and the shell of her ear...then down her neck, past her pulse point and across her collar bone.

She made a peculair noise in the back of her throat, a noise he had only ever heard come from her. A purr, long and soft. A real purr, giving sustainance to the observations that she was like a large cat, a panther, when she moved or fought. Though panthers didn't actually purr. But Trinity did, when she was contented enough to do so. He let his tounge press against her throat then, feeling the vibration there as much as he heard the noise. The purr drew out into a sigh and did not start again.

He pulled back, looking at her. She smiled at him, weariness now evident in her worn features. He laid back on the mattress and let her move herself so that she was resting on his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, as much a comfort to her as it was to himself. She met his gaze again once she became comfortable.

I love you, he told her with his eyes. And he knew, by the way she returned the look and moved her body against his, that she loved him, too.