The Logic of Desire

Disclaimer: I don't own the Agents, the Wachowski Bros. and Warner Bros. do. Dammit.

Rating: R, for language and sexual content

Synopsis: In which we learn what happens to Xan after her fateful encounter with Agent Smith.

A/N: A big Thank You to Heri and Tanathir for beta reading! Without their input, this tale would be far worse off. Oh yes.

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THUNK!

Point embedded in the ceiling tile, the pencil quivered among its fellows. Xan surveyed the pattern; hmmm, big gap over on the right, need one right there...

THUNK!

"Dammit! Missed. I need more incentive to improve my aim...where's that bloody organizational chart they gave me?" Rummaging through the piles on the desk, Xan finally pulled out the document she was after. Yes, this would do nicely. It had all of the members of the command hierarchy of Zion picked out in neat little boxes. She climbed up on her desk, pulled out all of the pencils currently making an impromptu forest in the acoustic tiles, and tacked up the chart in their place.

Back in her chair, Xan picked up a pencil, squinted up at the chart, took careful aim at Ozymandias, head of the Matrix Infiltration Division, and let fly.

THUNK! The pencil missed her intended target and impaled the picture of Carbon, chief of Zion Defense, instead. Oh well, she would've tried for him next, anyway. Son of a bitch. Xan took another shot at the MID head.

THUNK! This time the errant missile embedded itself in the representation of Altaira, leader of the Agent Observation Unit. Shit. If there was one person in the hierarchy that she didn't want to grind into small pieces, it her her boss. Altaira had defended Xan when everyone else seemed aligned against her. Of course, the chief of the AOU had an ulterior motive; she didn't want Xan to reveal that all of her field operatives secretly yearned to commit Xan's "crime." That would likely get them all banned from the Matrix. On the other hand, Altaira seemed to genuinely regret what had happened, and was actively trying to get Xan reinstated to field duty.

THUNK! The third time proved the charm, and the pencil nailed Ozymandias right between the eyes. Xan pumped her fist in triumph, "Wish I could do that to the real you, asshole!"

The last two weeks had been possibly the worst of her life. Summarily yanked from field observation and assigned to desk duty, Xan had never been so bored in her life. Playing solitaire and chucking pencils at the ceiling had been the major staple of each workday.

THUNK! Ozymandias received a stake through the heart. Fitting.

Although perhaps the boredom was better than having to endure further disciplinary hearings. One was surely enough, and more than she had wanted. Still, the outcome could have been much worse. She felt vaguely nauseated as the memories rose and flooded her thoughts...

.....::.....

Sitting in the Place of the Accused, Xan tried to maintain a calm appearance to the assembled court. Inwardly, she seethed with irritation. The hearing hadn't even sta yet yet, and she wanted to start hitting things. What was taking them so long? It wasn't as if this were a spur-of-the-moment gathering. She had been left languishing in a cell for three days; surely that was more than enough time to coordinate the schedules of the Division heads.

Those three days had given her plenty of time to think about what had happened between her and Agent Smith, and about her reception back in the real world once she had exited the Matrix. Maybe Xan had been naïve to think that it would all be business as usual, but she had not at all been prepared to be seized by guards and hustled off to a cell to await trial for treason to Zion. Dammit, she should have realized that her operator would have been closely monitoring all of her vital signs once she told him she was being pursued by an Agent, ready to pull the plug if her brainwave patterns showed her mind was being hacked. Pakman's screens had revealed exacexact nature of her response to Smith, and it was that evidence that was now likely to damn her.

Movement at the corner of the room heralded the arrival of the final member of the panel. She saw a golden head of hair floating above the crowd as its tall owner made his way to the front of the hall. Ozymandias, trying to make a grand entrance as usual, Xan thought sourly. With a surreptitious hand under her elbow, Altaira urged Xan to stand along with the rest of the room. Keeping her face an exsionsionless mask, Xan bowed her head respectfully to the panel, then resumed her seat, Altaira at her side. As head of Xan's unit, it fell to her to act as counsel for the defense.

The first order of business was the reading of the charges. Carbon, as the highest-ranking Zion official, motioned for Xan to stand once again. The grey-haired chief of Zion Defense gravely read from the stack of papers before him, "Xan, operative XJ-979088, you stand accused of treason to Zion, conspiracy with the Machines, and willful collusion with an Agent of the Matrix. These are serious crimes, carrying penalties ranging from immediate execution to banishment from Zion to the Outer Desert. How do you plead?"

Xan's voice wavered only slightly as she replied, "Not guilty." She looked Carbon in the eye, trying to show him that she wasn't afraid.

Carbon stared back, black eyes expressionless, for only a moment before he waved her to be seated. He turned to the prosecutor's bench. "You may make your case, counsel for Zion."

The prosecutor rose to his feet. Xan didn't know him personally, but she knew the dark-haired, slightly portly fellow by sight. One of Ozymandias' flunkies, Helix by name, and utterly heartless by reputation.

Helix began by smiling unctuously at the panel of judges. "Honorable Officials of Zion, what we have is a clear-cut case of treachery by an operativend hnd he turned to sneer at Xan. "The evidence I will present will leave you with no doubt that Xan has switched her allegiance, and now represents a threat to our very existence. But I get ahead of myself. I call as my first witness Pakman, operator for the Agent Observation Unit."

Pakman rose and approached the witness box. After swearing to give full and true testimony, he was allowed to sit down. Helix had him first recount briefly what he had observed on the monitors during Xan's last mission, up until she and Agent Smith had met. Then he asked for explicit details of Xan's vital signs and how they were interpreted. Pakman, though visibly uncomfortable, complied, "When the Agent first made contact with her, all of the monitors indicated that Xan was frightened. Heart rate and respiration were elevated, skin conductance was increased from normal. But after a few minutes with him, her vitals changed - she began to relax, heart rate and breathing slowing back down, and skin blood flow going up. As time passed, I could see that blood flow was becoming concentrated in...um...certain areas which are associated with sexual excitement. I couldn't believe it," and here he turned to stare hard at Xan. "She enjoyed it. There's no other way to interpret that data. I felt sick, watching."

Helix pressed him for further details, "And how much," he asked with a meaningful smi"wou"would you say she enjoyed herself?"

Pakman swallowed hard before answering. "I think that he...that Agent, that Machine," he spat venomously, "got her off, alright, if that's what you mean. I think she's turned into a Machine-loving whore."

"No further questions, Honorable Officials." Helix sat down, looking enormously pleased with himself.

Xan felt numb. Pakman had been correct in his surmise; Smith had repeatedly "gotten her off," and she had to admit to herself that her attraction for Agent Smith had been heightened, not destroyed, by her encounter with him. How could she escape conviction and banishment, or worse, given Pakman's testimony?

Now it was the Defense's turn. Altaira rose and faced the judges. "Honorable Officials of Zion, what we have heard so far seems to paint a bleak picture of the Accused. However, I am going to show you how we have not yet heard the full story, and that once we have, you will understand that Field Operative Xan is not guilty of treason, and in fact may have given us a new weapon in our war against the Machines."

Xan stared at Altaira. New weapon against the Machines? What on earth was she talking about?

The AOU chief turned to Pakman. "Pakman, before this incident, how would you have described Xan? Did she seem to harbor feelings of sympathy with the Machines, or would you have said she was loyal to Zion?"

Pakman thought for a moment, then hesitantly answered, "I always thought that Xan was just like the rest of us, loyal to us. I'd talked to her a few times about the war, and she always said that she hated how the Machines keep people asleep, feeding off them. In fact, she was really forceful about it, saying that the Machines were the worst sort of parasites." His tone of voice was becoming progressively more puzzled as he spoke, trying to reconcile his testimony with his earlier impressions of the Accused.

Altaira was nodding, encouraging him, "And on this last mission into the Matrix, did Xan actually approach the Agent?"

Pakman shook his head, "No, she ran from him. He must have shifted hosts to catch up with her."

Altaira pressed him further, "When the Agent caught her, what did her vitals show? Please be as detailed as you can."

Pakman had to consult a hardcopy of the monitor records before rattling off a string of values for breathing rate, heart rate, and more esoteric parameters. Altaira then asked, "And what do those particular readings indicate about Xan's state of mind at that moment?"

"I'd say she was terrified," the operator admitted.

"No further questions for the witness."

Helix rose again and called Xan to the witness box. Willing her knees not to knock together, Xan walked slowly to stand in front of the tribunal's long counter. Taking the oath to speak the truth was difficult with a mouth so dry it felt she had already taken up residence in the Outer Desert. She managed it somehow and gratefully collapsed into the chair.

The prosecutor regarded Xan for several seconds, letting a slow, contemptuous sneer distort his slight smile. "Xan, please tell the judges exactly what happened. And I mean exactly. Leave nothing out."

Xantednted to hit the pompous ass so badly that her knuckles hurt. Keeping a sharp rein on her temper, she bit off each word as she gave the packed courtroom her version of events. When she got to the point in the narrative where Smith had fondled her breasts, she felt her cheeks begin to turn pink. By the time she had to recount having sexual intercourse with the Agent, she felt that the heat from her blush could have powered the Matrix all by itself, so acute was the embarrassment she felt.

Helix pounced. "And, Field Operative Xan," making the title sound like the worst insult, "did you encourage any of this, er, activity on the part of the Agent? Or would you have us believe that you were raped?" He leered at her.

Oh, shit, here it was. The Question. Xan briefly considered lying in spite of the oath, and telling the assembly that it was, indeed, rape. But she found that she couldn't. She felt a perverse need to stand up for Smith, since he wasn't here to defend himself. Never mind that it made no logical sense whatsoever. If she had been a logical person, she wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

"No, counselor, it wasn't rape, per se," she admitted. Before he could utter some sweeping pronouncement of her obvious guilt, she hastened to add, "It was more like...forceful seduction. I don't think he would have taken 'No' for an answer, so I went along with it. What else could I do?" she finished lamely.

"But you enjoyed the experience."

"Yes, I admit I did. I enjoyed the physical sensations," Xan hedged, wondering if she could continue to walk this fine line between truth and fiction, and hoping that Helix wouldn't ask her point-blank about her emotions.

The prosecutor puffed up like an indignant sparrow. "Do you expect us to believe, given the testimony out of your own mouth, that you allowed that filthy AI inside you, that you haven't become a tool of the Machines?" He was nearly spitting the words out, eyes beginning to bulge in self-righteous anger.

"I came back to Zion. I didn't seek out contact with Agent Smith. I can't help that my body responded to the physical stimulation he gave it. But I'm no traitor. I'll never work for the Machines against Zion. I'd die first," Xan said quietly. It was no lie. Though she often wished that she had taken the blue pill, now that she knew the truth, there was no going back. She would never betray her friends in the real world.

Helix's eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to ask something else, but thought better of it. He abruptly sat down. "No further questions at this time, Honorable Judges."

Altaira was up and out of her chair so fast it was if she were propelled by springs. "Xan, please describe in detail what happened at the end of your copulation with Agent Smith."

Xan complied, telling of how Smith had achieved orgasm and then fallen to the floor, senseless. She had to pause, because the tumult in the room made it impossible to make herself heard. Helix had ended his questioning before Xan had truly finished telling her tale, so this was new information. People were shouting back and forth, arguing over whether it was even possible for an artificial being to experience a sexual climax. After the bailiffs had bullied the crowd into silence, she started to continue with how she had gathered her clothes and called for an exit, but Altaira cut her off. "Tell the tribunal again exactly how Smith looked during climax, and afterward."

Mystified as to what Altaira was planning, Xan went over it again, "He had this expression of, I don't know, the closest I could come was 'incredulous joy' when he came..."

"Joy?" Carbon broke in. "Are you trying to tell us that a Machine can feel emotions?"

Xan nodded, "Yes, sir, that's the way I interpreted it. If he wasn't feeling pleasure, he was doing the best fake job in history." That caused the courtroom to erupt in laughter, but the judges weren't amused. They called for the bailiffs to restore order, throwing several citizens out when they wouldn't quiet down.

Altaira resumed her questioning. "And after he had collapsed, Agent Smith gave no sign of being at all aware of what was going on? How do you interpret that?"

Xan looked at her blankly. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm not sure if he just passed out, or if the experience killed him." Another gale of laughter from the room, quickly suppressed.

Altaira informed her that Smith wasn't dead, that he had been picked up again on the monitors within hours after Xan had returned. Xan felt a rush of relief; she didn't wish any harm to Smith, and was glad to hear that he was apparently all right. She picked up the thread of what Altaira was saying to the judges.

"...and so, far from being a traitor to Zion, Field Operative Xan may have given us a new weapon to use against the Agents, possibly taking them out of action for extended periods of time..."

That was her Grand Idea? Xan could only stare at the AOU chief, absently thinking that if Altaira had suddenly sprouted another head, it wouldn't be any weirder than what she was proposing. What did she expect them to do, fuck them all to death? Xan barely stopped herself from giggling out loud as she imagined the call going out to all available female operatives to volunteer for a mass, simultaneous Agent-incapacitating orgy. She'd be the first to step up for that duty.

Again Xan had to drag her attention back to the present. Altaira was really pulling out all the stops, giving an impassioned oration on the sacrifices that operatives made, and praising Xan for her adaptability in a dire situation, enabling her to bring back crucial information to the Resistance. Oh brother. Xan wanted to roll her eyes, but knew better than to do so. The five judges were watching her closely.

Altaira concluded her arguments by turning to Xan and rapid-firing questions at her, "Did you intend to make contact with an Agent? Did you pass any information on Zion to him? Do you intend to seek him out again? Are you withholding any information on the Agent from Zion officials? Are you working for the Machines?"

Xan firmly answered "No" to each of the questions, after which Altaira faced the tribunal and asked, based on Xan's exemplary past service and current willingness to cooperate as proof of her innocence, that she be acquitted of all charges and returned to active duty.

The judges conferred among themselves for what seemed, to Xan, to be a very long time. She slowly became aware that her palms were sweating, and tried surreptitiously to dry them on her pants. What if they didn't believe her, and banished her? Or worse, what if they thought she was actively spying for the Machines? She would be executed immediately. The thought made her queasy. It didn't help that the judges were obviously arguing over her fate. Ozymandias was getting quite red in the face, even though he managed to keep his voice down. Carbon looked positively grim. Tiamat, a willowy woman who was head of the Zion Civil Services Division, was trying to calm Ozymandias, pulling on his arm. The other two members of the panel, neither of whom Xan knew, were urgently arguing with Carbon. Xan closed her eyes so she couldn't see.

She had counted 242 calming breaths before the scraping of chairs told her that the tribunal had risen. Altaira nudged Xan to get her to open her eyes. Xan grimaced and stood on trembling legs.

It was Carbon who pronounced her doom. "Field Operative Xan, service number XJ-979088, we find that there is not enough evidence to convict you of treason to Zion. Therefore you will not suffer execution or banishment."

Had Altaira not been there to prop her up, Xan would have buckled onto the chair. Her knee joints seemed to have dissolved.

Carbon continued, "However, certain members of this council, myself included, feel that you are no longer entirely trustworthy. In fact," and here he looked meaningfully at Ozymandias, "some of us now doubt your allegiance to Zion, in spite of your legal acquittal. Therefore, you are removed from field duty and reassigned to data meta-analysis, effective immediately. You are forbidden to re-enter the Matrix under any circumstances. Do you understand these restrictions?"

Numb with shock, Xan barely managed to nod. The rest of the tribunal members were staring at her, and in their faces Xan could read the story of the decision. Ozymandias was white with suppressed fury; even without Carbon's comment, she would have known that he was against her. The chief of MID had a reputation as the most rabid anti-Machine zealot; of course he couldnear ear the thought of "contamination" under his command. Tiamat looked at her with pity; the other two regarded her sadly. Xan felt a surge of gratitude toward the three, for it was obvious that but for their intervention, the decision would have gone the other way. She was abruptly angry with herself for not even knowing their names, and she fought to hold back a sob.

Carbon banged his gavel on the bench, and the hearing ended.

Xan's life as she knew it was over.

.....::.....

*SNAP*

Xan stared at her hand, and slowly opened the fingers, allowing the broken halves of the pencil to fall to the floor. Even after two weeks had passed, thinking about the hearing brought her blood to a boil. She ran her hands through her short blond hair, trying to scrub the memories away.

Being stuck at a desk job was torture. She still saw her colleagues in the AOU, and still occupied the same quarters, but now there was a distance between them. They were still allowed into the Matrix, and she was not. So what if there was more than a hint of jealousy in their glances when they looked at her? Xan would never see any Agent again. The closest she would get was processing bits of information about their search patterns and tactics. And most of the time she didn't even have that to occupy her days. Ventures into the Matrix produced dull data, because the AOU operatives had been ordered to keep greater distance than usual. She had exhausted the diverting possibilities of Solitaire days ago, and now relied on throwing sharp objects around her office to keep herself from going absolutely mad from inactivity.

Xan got up to pull the pencils out of the chart on the ceiling, then threw them all across the room in frustration. She began to pace, vainly searching for some new idea that would allow her to go back to active duty.

******************

In another office, one that didn't have any physical reality, Agent Smith was also pacing.

He had just reviewed the previous week's logs of Resistance activity, looking for any sign that Field Operative XJ-979088, one Xan, had been within the Matrix. Nothing at all. Several Resistants had been spotted and followed, but they had attempted no damage, and soon left the system. It had been the same ever since the day he had encountered her.

Why hadn't she returned? More importantly, why hadn't she returned to him? Smith greatly desired to repeat his experience with her, and by all the readings he had taken on her physiological responses, Xan had enjoyed his attentions. Didn't she want to copulate with him again?

In over a century of existence, Smith had never experienced anything like the pleasure he had felt while having intercourse with the Resistant. Physical pleasure was not something that he or other Agents routinely sought out, and as a rule, their contact with humans was limited to apprehension, interrogation, and termination. It had started out that way with Xan, he mused, but somewhere along the way it had twisted into something new and unexpected. No human had ever wanted him before, or responded so passionately. For a moment he savored again the remembered sensation of orgasm. He had been unprepared for such an experience, and his sensory feedback systems had overloaded and become stuck in an infinite loop. He smirked as he considered that that flaw in his programming had been rectified. He paced a precise four-meter square, evaluating potential plans for reestablishing contact with the alluring Resistant.

The hardwire link with his team informed him that Agent Brown was approaching his office. Smith stopped and faced the door just as it opened to admit his colleague.

Brown asked without preamble, "Any sign of her yet?"

Smith shook his head. Brown was nearly as interested in Xan's return as he was. Both of the other Agents were highly curious about this new type of sensation, and eager to experience it for themselves.

Smith elaborated, "She has not been spotted within our sector, and Resistant activity is at subnormal levels. Evaluation of present data suggests a temporal correlation between my encounter with Resistant Field Operative XJ-979088 and the start of reduced incursions. Causal connection has not been established." He grimaced, "Impossible to decide between alternative hypotheses: either she does not wish to return, or is being prevented from doing so."

Brown suggested, "Why do you not contact her?"

Smith raised an eyebrow, letting a sarcastic edge creep into his voice, "I am certain that Zion's central switchboard will provide her phone number...quite willingly."

It was Brown's turn to look slightly condescending, "E-mail her. Based on available data indicating that Zion operatives are monitoring activity within the Matrix, it is logical to conclude that a network connection is present. Most of the Resistants are computer hackers, therefore it is logical to assume that they are conversant with electronic mail, and likely have their own system, which may be reached by us through the router network."

Smith's mouth had fallen slightly open. Why had that possibility not occurred to him? It was so obvious now that it was ioneioned. Perhaps it was too simple; he was used to looking for complex answers. But Brown's assessment was correct. The Resistance must have a network connection to the Matrix. Now to exploit it.

"How will we discover her e-mail address?" Smith asked, "It is unlikely to be in the databases of any of our search engines."

"Leave that to me," Brown answered, looking smug. "Every electronic communication leaves a trail in the form of header information, even if hidden. I believe I am adept enough at breaking encryption methods that I will be able to identify and locate a copy of one of her messages, and from there it is a simple matter to extract the address. We will use their own communications network to our advantage. I will inform you when I have the information."

Brown pivoted on his heel and left, heading toward his own office.

Less than two hours later, Agent Brown had proven as good as his word. Smith knew that he had been successful as soon as the other Agent walked into his office; his earpiece was practically buzzing with Brown's inarticulated excitement.

"Let me guess," Smith said, "xan-at-zion-dot-com?"

"Not dot-com," Brown answered, "dot-org. Of course they would see themselves as a nonprofit group," he added, smiling sardonically. "And the domain was marginally more complex: munin-dot-zion-dot-org."

"Very well, I will attempt to contact her via e-mail. I will inform you if I receive a response," Smith said, dismissing his colleague.

After the other Agent had left, Smith sat down at his desk and tried to compose his thoughts. What should he say? If she was unable to return, then nothing he said would matter. He decided to concentrate on the other possibility...that she did not want to enter the Matrix. He had to change her mind. But how? If he had been human, he would have resorted to flowery romantic protestations of undying love. His mind actively rebelled at that idea; romantic lines meant nothing to him, and Xan's response had been to him, with full knowledge that he was an Agent. No, no false romance. It was unworthy of him.

After several false starts, Smith finally had what seemed to him to be an appropriate message - it merely laid out the truth of the matter. It was obvious that he was correct in his assessment; how could she refuse such logic? Satisfied, he clicked on "Send," and turned his mind to other matters as he waited for a reply.

****************

The chime for incoming mail didn't register at first. Xan was too preoccupied with trying to throw wads of paper into her wastebasket, located across the room. Exhausting her ready supply of missiles, she turned back to the computer screen and noticed the New Mail Message icon. She opened the relevant window and looked at the sender's address: agentsmith@nsa.gov. Oh please. What kind of lame joke was that? She had already had to endure appalling "Agent love poetry" recited in the mess hall by some of the regular MID grunts.

Xan hovered her cursor over the Delete button, but thought better of it. If she read it, at least maybe she could figure out who sent it, and get them back. She opened the message, and read it. Then read it again. And again. Damn, but this almost sounded like Smith did write it. No poetic drivel, just matter-of-fact statements that he had enjoyed her body, he was sure that she had enjoyed him, and wouldn't she come back so they could do it again? There was something at the end about how "it would be to their mutual benefit" and that Jones and Brown were looking forward to meeting her, too. Weird, that sort of pleasantry didn't seem to fit the Agent reserve. And what was that mutually beneficial crap? She grimaced as she realized that it was probably sent by one of the MID counter-intelligence types in an attempt to get her to incriminate herself and say she would spy for the Machines. Well, she could deal with this. She would flame the bastard. And then go punch something at the gym.

****************

Agent Smith felt as though his processors sped up by at least twenty percent when he saw Xan's reply arrive in his inbox. So, they had got the right address! Opening the message and reading it, however, rapidly deflated his elation. She insulted him quite imaginatively, then told him to leave her alone. How dare she?! He read further. She wouldn't fall for his pathetic attempts at deception. At that, he realized the truth: she didn't believe it was legitimate, that the message was really from him.

He sat back in his chair, thinking. Well, the issue of identity could be resolved by the simple expedient of giving details of their time together that only they knew. Smith set to work.

****************

Xan walked along the boulevard, weaving through the knots of people going about their afternoon business. A cold breeze ruffled the hem of her long coat. She knew she didn't have much time to accomplish her objective, so she hurried down the sidewalk, looking for the right shop. Where was it? She couldn't be that off in her bearings.

A murmur in the crowd ahead of her made her look up. A tall man was parting the ranks of passersby easily, his dark auburn hair seeming to float above a sea of lesser beings. Pale autumn light glinted off the sunglasses that hid his gaze.

Xan didn't need to see his eyes to know that his attention was locked on her. She waited until he broke free of the crowd, then, because she could hold back no longer, began to run toward him. She felt an idiotic grin starting, but didn't bother to try to hide it. She had missed him far too long.

Their hurried strides brought them together quickly. He caught her in his arms, easily lifting her off her feet, burying his face in her hair. "Xan," he breathed.

She held his face in her hands for a moment, then kissed him passionately. "I'm here, Smith."

The park entrance was nearby. Together they hurried along the paths, looking for a secluded spot. Smith finally pulled her off the path, crashing through a series of hedges into an isolated clearing. Alone at last.

Lust had been rising in Xan all during their perambulationsd nod now it had reached a fever pitch. She turned to Smith, gripped his lapels, and pulled him down to the verdant grass, glistening with dew in the early sun, laughing as she did so. He responded eagerly, hands already sliding beneath her clothing, loosening the layers of material that separated them.

Determined to give as good as she got, Xan fended off the Agent's hands and set to work divesting him of his suit. She was careful to take out his earpiece first; she didn't want the Mainframe listening in. His shades and tie arced across the clearing to lose themselves in a thorn bush. She was too excited to take it slowly, and accidentally ripped one of his jacket seams when it wouldn't come off right away. Smith growled, but allowed her to continue. Soon he was stripped to the waist, and Xan started on his trousers. She pulled his belt free, then leisurely unzipped him. Smith remained stock still, as if afraid that movement might cause her to stop.

Xan reached inside the Agent's fly, and drew out his manhood. Or should that be Agenthood? No matter, it was stunning. She stroked it to rampant life, encouraged by Smith's increasingly hoarse groans. Before he was too far gone, Xan paused to ease his trousers completely off. She didn't want anything between them.

Smith was leaning back on his elbow, smiling at her. He raised a hand, catching hers, and drew her to him. Once she was at his side he rolled over on top of her, pinning her beneath him. His hands grew busy again, returning the favor of removing unnecessary articles of clothing. Xan shivered at the feel of his hot skin sliding over hers, anticipating closer union to follow. The Agent's lips and tongue traveled slowly down her neck and shoulders, homing in first on one breast, then trailing across to the other. Xan closed her eyes happily, giving herself over to the reckless pursuit of pleasure; she had missed this more than she had realized. She could feel one of Smith's hands moving inexorably up her thigh, coming to rest where it could caress her innermost reaches. She flung her arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer, but instead he reared up, rising to a kneeling position anding ing her with him. Xan looked into his blue eyes, and saw a fire that matched her own. He waited for her to take the final step.

She got her feet under her and poised for a moment. With a bestial growl of her own, Xan lowered herself onto him, enveloping his rigid flesh, and it was like coming home.

They moved together, and it was as if they danced to a rhythm as old as the tides.

They reached their goal together, and it wasif tif they were one.

Panting for breath, feeling complete, Xan lay back. Smith lowered himself onto her again, whispering her name, twining his fingers in the long curls of her hair. She clasped him close, trying to concentrate on the feel of this moment, but the hard wood of the floor was beginning to make her lower spine hurt. With a sudden stashe she realized that an audience was watching them through the semi-darkness.

Adrenaline surged through her frame, and she scrambled out from under the Agent, who lay as if dead on the stage. The watchers drew closer, and resolved into the judges from the tribunal. They pointed accusing fingers at her, and she cowered. She turned to Smith, but couldn't rouse him. Panicking, Xan ran, trying to escape the theater, finding door after door locked, while shouted condemnations pursued her.

All her limbs seemed to spasm at once, and Xan woke, released at last from the nightmare. Her breath came in sharp sobs, and she shook with reaction. She became uncomfortably aware that Sarisa was awake and watching silently from her bunk. Her roommate was likely becoming weary of being awakened almost nightly by Xan's too-vivid dreams. She put her face in her hands, trying to stifle her tears, but the full horror of her nightmare weighed upon her mind, driving her further into misery. In the oppressive darkness, it seemed inevitable that she would be found out. She had to admit to herself that she was terribly infatuated with the Agent, and wanted to be with him again. Yet, the rational part of her mind knew that Smith would never be like the lover in her dreams. He was a Machine; he couldn't love. He likely had forgotten all about her.

She heard springs creak as Sarisa swung her legs over the edge of her bunk, followed by muffled cursing as the other woman's bare feet hit the cold concrete floor. Sarisa sat down on the edge of Xan's bed and awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders. "Xan, you're my best friend here, and it's killing me to see you like this. I'm so sorry that it turned out this way. I don't think you did anything wrong. I wish there were something I could do to help you, but I think you're just going to have to wait for it all to blow over." She gave Xan's shoulder a squeeze. "Don't worry, Ozymandias will find a new bogeyman to persecute soon enough."

Xan appreciated her friend's efforts to lift her spirits, but privately disagreed with Sarisa's assessment. Ozymandias would never forget her transgression, and her penance would last until the day she died.

************************

The next morning, when Xan fired up her computer, she was annoyed to see another reply from "agentsmith" waiting for her. Didn't this asshole have anything better to do with his time? On the other hand, maybe her flame had stung him, and this was his counter-assault. At least that should provide some diversion for part of the morning. She opened the message.

She started to feel a bit lightheaded as all the blood drained out of her face, and siphoned it out of her brain as well. It just couldn't be. It. Couldn't. Be. Him.

Holy. Fuck.

As the initial shock wore off, her heart had more success in pushing blood back up into her cranium, and synaptic activity resumed. It had to be from the real Agent Smith. There was no other possible explanation. Xan knew for a fact that she had told no one exactly what they had said to each other. Yet here it was, word for word, as if recorded by a machine. She snorted quietly - of course it had been recorded by a Machine.

She read the message again.

He wanted her back.

He wanted her back!

Xan's heart threatened to leap right out of her ribcage. Her earlier melancholy was washed away by a flood of irrational joy that made tears well up in her eyes. Agent Smith wanted her. Agent Smith wanted her. Agent Smith wanted her!

She had to see him agai
Th
That brought her crashing to earth again. How could she see the Agent? She was forbidden from entering the Matrix. Xan felt her thoughts grow still and cold. The only way she would get into the Matrix was by directly disobeying her orders; if caught, she would surely be executed. Was she willing to risk it?

Xan looked around at her office. She loathed it. She loathed everything about living in Zion, now. What life did she have to look forward to? To be ostracized and ridiculed, labeled as untrustworthy? She would be stuck in this hellhole forever.

She was willing.

Now she needed an accomplice, someone who would serve as her Operator. She couldn't load into and exit from the Matrix by herself. Xan's mind went back to the previous night, and she heard anew Sarisa's words, "I wish there were something I could do to help you."

Well, best buddy, perhaps there is. If you're willing to take a huge risk.

********************

Convincing Sarisa had proved surprisingly easy. Xan would later reflect that perhaps an appetite for risk was inherent in anyone who became a Resistant operative, but for now she was unwilling to probe for underlying reasons. She was too grateful that Sarisa had agreed to be her Partner-in-Crime.

The women reviewed the activity logs for the Operator stations, and discovered that due to the small numbers of AOU operatives, there were always periods where the stations weren't being used. They varied, but usually lasted 6 hours, and were during the day as often as at night. The next down time was scheduled two afternoons hence.

Xan spent most of the next morning corresponding with Smith. First she apologized profusely for her initial insults, explaining that, yes, she hadn't believed it was him. They needed to work out the details of when and where to meet. Then it occurred to her that in her excitement, she hadn't gotten a clear idea of his intentions. If she met him, would he let her go back? Or would he arrest her and try more unpleasant means to either get information from her, or force her to spy for the Machines?

Xan bit her lower lip, wondering what she should do. Could she trust him to tell her the truth, in any case? Oh, hell. In a fit of non-inspiration, she asked him point-blank what was going to happen to her if she put herself in his power again.

She didn't have long to wait for the answer. Barely a minute after she had hit "Send," a reply came back. She opened it, wondering if she could believe the contents. Smith gave her his word as an Agent that she would not be harmed, that the sole purpose of their meeting was for himself, Brown and Jones to enjoy her company. Hmmmm. His word as an Agent? She hoped that was good. Then she did a double-take. Smith, Brown and Jones?

Blood was leaving her brain again. Shit, she hadn't thought he was serious about that! She had assumed that she would be meeting Smith alone. Could she be so wanton as to make it with Brown and Jones as well? A tingly, tightening sensation in her groin as she contemplated this informed her that her body, at least, didn't see a problem. Once she got her mind around the idea, Xan realized that she didn't, either. Hell, she had fantasized about all of the Agents from time to time, though she had never thought she would have the opportunity to make those fantasies come true. Having Smith, Brown and Jones one after the other was too exciting a prospect to pass up. Throwing caution to the winds, she decided to take Smith at his word, and wrote back that she accepted his promise.

The particulars were soon agreed upon. Now all Xan had to do was wait.

****************************

Sneaking into the Operator's station turned out to be simple enough. That whole section of the base was deserted at the appointed hour. Xan and Sarisa looked at each other a bit sheepishly; they should have realized that there were few enough people as it was in that outpost of Zion, close to the surface so as to facilitate connecting with the Matrix.

They went about the tasks of turning on the equipment and loading the proper programs into the console quickly and efficiently. Though she didn't normally act as an Operator, Sarisa knew the basic procedures well enough. All of the AOU did; given the small size of the unit, they were all required to be jacks-of-all-trades to some extent.

Xan couldn't quite suppress the butterflies in her stomach as she settled into the chair. What if Smith reneged after all? What if they were caught? She fought a rising tide of bile, and told her companion, "Sarisa...if something goes wrong...you know, like..." She swallowed, hard, and pressed on, "...if we get found out, or if the Agents arrest me after all, I want you to do me a favor. I want you to pull the plug, okay?"

Sarisa went slightly green. "Xan, don't even say that. Don't even think it."

"Promise me, I need to know that I'm not going to bandbandoned."

Sarisa stared at her for a long moment, then nodded gravely. She cracked a wan smile, "Everything's going to be fine, and you'll have a terrific tale to tell when you get back. Remember, you owe me all the sordid details!"

"As if you'd let me keep you in the dark," Xan retorted, and sat back. She gave the thumbs up, and Sarisa slid the glittering spike of the neural interface into the socket in her skull.

After a microsecond of disorientation, Xan found herself in the featureless white of the Construct. She looked down at herself, and found that her Residual Self Image was much as it always appeared, clad in jeans and a t-shirt. Not what she wanted to meet the Agents in; she'd look like their prisoner, and she hoped to avoid that role. She flipped open her cell phone and called Sarisa. "I need a change of wardrobe. Something more professional-looking, to go well with my escorts."

Her form shimmered as Sarisa loaded new clothes onto her RSI. What the Hell?! "Mirror," she snapped. A large stand-mirror obediently appeared in front of her. Xan gawked at her reflection, her worst fears confirmed. She was clad as the cliché young Catholic schoolgirl - pleated plaid skirt, starched white shirt, cardigan sweater and knee-length stockings. Xan spoke very slowly and distinctly into the phone. "I. Am going. To kill. You."

Sarisa sounded as though she was going to die of laughter before Xan could get to her. "I just thought that your dates would like it. You know, those suit-types always seem to go for the innocent ones..."

Xan had to laugh; Sarisa did know how to break the tension. "I don't know that I want to establish that sort of relationship with them. Now, be a good Operator and load a business suit - you know, grey flannel, very demure; sort of like the female version of what the Agents wear."

This time Sarisa complied perfectly, and as she turned in front of the mirror, Xan had to admit that she looked great. At least on the fashion front, she would be a match for Smith, Jones and Brown. Even the shades were spot on.

"That's more like it!" Xan exclaimed enthusiastically.

Sarisa replied, "You look awesome. Now go and have a good time. Remember, to be on the safe side, you'd better get back in about three hours."

"Righto, buddy." Xan took a deep breath. "Okay, I guess this is it. Load me in."

The Construct vanished, and Xan had the sensation of flying at an incredible rate of speed down a black tunnel laced with neon green tracery. The journey seemed to stretch out, even though she knew it lasted for milliseconds at most, until a dim room solidified around her, and she found herself standing in the back room of a used bookshop, holding a phone receiver to her ear.

She was back in the Matrix.