Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix. Man, I wish I owned the twins. But I don't, and I'm not going to claim I do, so don't sue me.

Mood music: Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek"

He never thought in all his life that he'd ever come back. Not after he had won his freedom with his sweat and tears, his ship, the blood of his friends. Not in a million years.

And yet there he was, lying back in the high-backed chair, being plugged back into the very system he had fought so hard his entire life to leave forever.

A familiar rush, the sensation of flying, leaving the body, and Morpheus found himself standing next to a phone-booth at the edge of a park, in the Matrix once more.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him in the end. The machines had held up their end of the bargain—every last human had been freed and handed over to the dozens of dropships for Zion. Where they would all stay, however, was proving more difficult than they had anticipated. The actual number of newly freed refugees was staggering—more than they could have ever imagined. The humans and machines were now cooperating to find a way to restore the sky.

And yet the Matrix remained intact, which was why he was here. If the Matrix was still functioning, then odds were there was a program he could consult for answers—the Oracle, perhaps.

"What are you doing here?"

A chill ran down Morpheus's spine at the familiar voice that spoke up behind him. His body tensing, he whirled in the direction of the voice and stood ready to defend himself.

However, the white-clad program remained as still as a statue, looking up at the human impassively from behind his narrow shades. The Matrix was overcast that day, a gentle artificial breeze playing with his pale dreadlocks, stirring up an unnerving memory in Morpheus's mind of the program's unusual abilities. And yet the assassin didn't move.

"…We don't want to fight you," he finally replied after a long, tense silence. He moved then, only slightly, leaning back on the bench, but it caused Morpheus's heart to jump. "What would be the point?"

"Revenge," Morpheus replied simply, "payback for the Keymaker."

A small smirk. "That is no longer our concern." He looked up at the human again, "You won. There is no point in us fighting anymore."

Eyes narrowing, Morpheus slowly stood straight, still on alert for any surprise attacks.

The program's smirk widened. "You can relax—there will be no surprise attacks. Not from us, not from anyone."

Morpheus slowly sat down on the park bench opposite the white-clad assassin. "The agents?"

"Gone," he answered simply. "Their purpose was to extend the machines' control, and now there is none."

"What about your partner?" Morpheus sat upright, stiff, still not completely relaxed, "Where is he?"

The program's smirk faded. There was a long pause before finally he responded, "One is dead."

Morpheus found an emotion rushing through him that he never thought he'd feel for a program that tried to kill him—guilt. He slowly leaned back on the bench, "The freeway?"

The program nodded.

"…I killed him, didn't I?"

Another nod.

"Then why won't you fight me?" Morpheus asked, confused. "You should hate me for what I did."

"…What is hate?"

For once, Morpheus was at a loss for words.

"We are not supposed to feel anything, yet we do. Emotions are foreign to us. We suppose we could hate you, not that it matters." The white-clad assassin gave a slight, bitter chuckle, "With what the machines did to you and your kind, enforcing their rule, we probably deserved it."

Morpheus found his head dropping. In the back of his mind, he knew the man sitting before him was just a program. AI. Unfeeling. A brutal killer without mercy who had fought to keep him enslaved. And yet, something within him reacted with sympathy at the knowledge that he had just parted two twin brothers in the most permanent way: death.

The twin remained completely still, a bitter smile on his thin lips.

•••

Darkness… Silence… Nothing…

The smell of smoke, burnt fabric, ash, blood…

The wail of sirens, crackling fire, wind, voices…

…Where are we?

…What happened?

One?

…One?!

Pain.

Eyes open. A rush of white light, slowly fading and revealing shapes. A road…

The freeway.

Phasing immediately, the pain is gone. The ground falls away, and the world levels out.

One? One?!

Nothing.

Ash rains down from the sky. The flaming wreckage of the SUV is about a hundred feet away. Traffic is stopped. Police, fire engines, and ambulances are everywhere, their sirens blending together into one mournful wail that drowns out all other sounds.

One?!

Finally a response—a moan.

Ahead, forty-five yards. We can see the blood.

Running across stopped traffic, phasing through cars in the way.

Blood is everywhere, staining our white clothes, soaking into our hair, spreading slowly across the pavement.

We cradle our brother to us, coaxing us back to consciousness.

"One…"

"…Two?"

"Yes, it's us. We are here."

"…It hurts…"

"Once we phase, we will be fine."

"…Can't…"

Numbness, a sudden tightening of the chest, a threatening twist of the stomach. "…W-well… We'll have to hold on until we can get to the Core. The Merovingian will know what to do."

"…We failed…"

"He needs us. He will help us."

"…We are… beyond help…"

A trembling hand removes cracked sunglasses to look at us without barriers. Slate-blue eyes look up at us, filled with pain and sorrow.

"…No… We… We have to hold on. We will be all right. We will!"

"…We can't…"

"No! We can't leave!"

"We're… sorry…"

Muscles tensed in pain relax. Life leaves slate-blue eyes as they slowly slide closed.

We can't breathe.

"…One? …One?! One!"

No matter how much we shake the body, we will not wake.

"No! We can't! We can't leave us alone! We can't!"

Is this what emotion feels like? We feel like we are being torn apart from the inside. Like part of us is dead.

"…We don't want to be alone…"

We cry ourselves dry, scream until we're hoarse, and it still isn't enough…

•••

"So," the white assassin said after a deep breath, as if trying to hide a rising emotion, "why are you here?"

"Because I can," Morpheus answered. "I assumed the Matrix would be taken down after my people were freed."

"And yet it remains functional," the program finished.

Morpheus nodded.

"You came to ask your Oracle why."

"I assume she still exists. You are, after all."

"Yes, of course. All of us remain… save the Merovingian and his pets…"

Morpheus's brow furrowed in surprise and confusion.

The program simply smirked in response.

•••

We hate the subway. It's loud and filthy, just like the Trainman.

We don't want to take the subway, but our SUV is gone and we have no other way to get back to the Core. Not without walking through Agent territory.

We reach the Core, and get off the train as quickly as possible, but we could not escape him. He is waiting for us when we step off.

He is still loud and filthy.

"You're gonna be in big trouble, ghostie. When the Merovingian learns that you lost the Keymaker, you're gonna find yourself joinin' your brother real quick."

The One may not have been able to fight him, but the One was in Mobil Ave., the One was not a program, and the One did not have a razor in his pocket.

We slit his throat from behind before he can manipulate the code—it takes him longer outside of his territory. His artificial blood sprays over our hands, pools on the floor.

For the conniving, disgusting weasel that he was, people sure scream a lot when they see him killed. Too much.

We wish they'd shut up.

We should shut them up…

But not today.

We slide our hand along the wall as we climb the stairs to the surface streets, smearing his blood across the faded green tile.

They can scream all they want. We are in the Core. The Agents can't get us here.

The Chateau is bustling, as usual.

And the Merovingian is not happy.

We don't know what he's saying, but we know it's French, and it's all curses.

…Why did we come back? We are in no mood for one of his temper tantrums, and our patience is wearing thin.

Fast.

He is still screaming in French, but we can make out a few English words now.

Son of a bitch. Useless. Incompetent. Stupid fuck.

We never thought he'd resort to the word "fuck".

He certainly is angry.

…We wish he'd shut up.

He is slowly returning to the English language.

"I knew you were incompetent, but I never imagined you would fail such a simple task!"

He needs to shut up.

"The only one less competent than you is your pathetic excuse for a brother!"

He needs to shut up.

"The stupid fuck couldn't even use his own powers to heal himself and died!"

He needs to shut up.

Now.

A quick swing to the throat does just the thing.

Why does he look so surprised? He's one of the oldest programs in the Matrix. He should've heard of the Judas scenario.

We watch impassively as he sinks to the floor clutching his throat. No matter how tight he holds, he can't stop the blood.

He dies with that surprised look on his face.

His thugs are panicking. Surrounding us, drawing weapons.

It doesn't matter—he's dead now. What's the point of fighting us now?

They still want to fight.

We'll oblige them.

Persephone watches us the whole time.

Her eyes are empty.

•••

"Are you surprised?" the program cocked his head to the side slightly.

Morpheus released his breath in a sigh. He slowly shook his head. "No."

"Would you have gone to him if he was still operating?" asked the twin.

"…Perhaps."

"What would you have asked him?"

"The same thing I would ask the Oracle."

"And that is?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is the Matrix still functioning?"

"A reminder."

Morpheus lifted an eyebrow.

The assassin's thin lips curved into another wry smirk. "A reminder of what will never happen again. You kept your death camps from the holocaust intact to keep it from happening again, correct?" At Morpheus's nod, he continued. "It is also a reminder of what the human mind is capable of." He gave another bitter chuckle. "Not as philosophical as your Oracle could probably have answered, but we are not without our knowledge."

Leaning back against the bench, Morpheus heaved a heavy sigh. It made sense. And the program did not seem to be one to lie.

The white-clad assassin remained silent for quite a while, allowing Morpheus time to think, before he finally moved, leaning forward. "Is that all you came here for?"

Standing up slowly, Morpheus nodded. "I suppose."

The program chuckled, as if he knew something the resistance leader didn't.

Morpheus's brow furrowed. "It isn't?"

"No. You have one last matter of unfinished business to take care of."

The program suddenly lunged at him, his pearl-handled razor racing for his throat.

Morpheus was no fool. When he had plugged in, he had not taken any chances that the Agents and other hostile programs might still be wandering around, waiting for a curious human to access the system. Drawing the katana hidden within his coat, he stopped the razor with ease and leapt backwards, away from the suddenly blood-hungry assassin.

"I suppose you think it was all worth it, don't you?" the program snapped, slowly gliding towards the bench.

"Yes," Morpheus replied calmly, holding his sword ready. "It was the only course of action we could take."

"You decided that!"

"It was bound to happen. It was for the best," Morpheus continued, holding his ground.

"Of course it was!" he retorted sarcastically.

"The lives sacrificed were regrettable, but they were nothing compared to the lives destroyed in slavery for dreaming of a future other than fueling an army of merciless machines."

"Liar! Hypocrite!" the assassin screamed. "You didn't care how many lives you destroyed, as long as it was toward your cause. Not freedom, but the annihilation of the machines, and us! For what? The preservation of your race—your virus of a race!"

"If I could have prevented the death of your brother, I would have, but the both of you provoked it."

Morpheus could see something within the program snap. In a flash he phased through the bench and threw himself at the human. He swung again and again with such speed that Morpheus could barely dodge them all, making a wide sweep with his katana to force the twin away.

"Us or you, was it?" he replied with a snarl, slowly circling the human, his body tense.

"Yes," Morpheus replied simply, turning so as not to be blind-sighted by the assassin.

"You destroyed us!"

He lunged again, attacking with a new ferocity fueling his movements. Morpheus could feel the blade grazing his skin, not close enough to cut, but close enough to remind him that if he didn't catch up, he would be dead in the next few seconds. He managed to catch the program's wrist as he grabbed the human's katana with his free hand. They stood locked together, glaring at each other through the dark lenses of their sunglasses.

"Finish what you started, human!"

The white assassin shoved him away and made a wide vertical swing at him. Morpheus parried with a horizontal swing and, letting the momentum spin him around, jabbed the katana behind him with as much force as he could manage, bracing himself to stop that momentum when the twin phased, which he knew he was going to do.

His sword stopped, causing him to freeze.

The program didn't phase.

He didn't know how long they stood there like that, but a gentle trembling from the man behind him caused him to back away and withdraw his sword. He turned and watched as the twin slowly fell backwards onto the cement, hair fanning out around his pale face, blood soaking his chest and dripping down his chin from the corners of his mouth.

"You wanted me to kill you," Morpheus said finally.

"…Yes…" the program said in barely a whisper, his voice raw and strangled with pain. He inhaled with a shudder and weakly coughed, more blood slipping from his thin lips. When he finally regained control of his breathing, he swallowed and spoke again. "…Why did you come here?"

"I told you."

"Yes… but that wasn't why you came."

Morpheus sheathed his sword and turned towards the fallen assassin, confused.

"…Let it go, Morpheus."

He stopped mid-stride, stunned.

"…You won. It's time to retire the resistance. …Go home… Don't come back."

There was a long pause as Morpheus tried to wrap his mind around what he had just been told.

He was right.

Slowly Morpheus nodded. "…I will."

The program's blood was everywhere, soaking into his hair and his clothes. A drop of rain hit the lenses of his glasses, followed by another, until the light shower was showering them both. He slowly removed his glasses, revealing soft slate-blue eyes foggy with pain and impending death. He held out his hand as if to examine the rain as it hit his pale skin. A small smile played upon his lips. "…Are we crying?"

They were programmed too well. The AI was too advanced here. No matter how much Morpheus tried to convince himself that they weren't real, he would never really be able to shake the feeling that all this time he had been fighting people just like himself.

The program coughed again, his hand trembling as he reached up, as if trying to touch something within the clouds. "…We don't want… to be alone anymore… We're coming… One…"

His hand dropped as his eyes slid closed.

Morpheus let out his breath in a sigh, unaware that he had been holding it. He slowly turned and walked back to the payphone. Turning and taking one last look at the world he was finally free from as the phone began to ring, he picked up the receiver and exited for the last time.