Title: Messiah Complex
Author: Imraith-Nimphias
Summary: “Same old Ghost. Always wanting what you can’t
have. ”
Author’s Note: Thanks to Al and Andy for betaing and Nyx for the idea.
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He stepped off the ship, sighing with contentment. Home. How he missed it. The warmth of the recycled air and the privacy of his quarters were welcome luxuries after so much time on the cramped, cold ship. His eyes flicked instinctively to the Neb’s bay. Gone, as usual. He felt the little pang he always felt whenever he thought about the Neb and her crew. Same old Ghost . Always wanting what you can’t have. He sighed and his jaw cracked in a yawn, the function of running on approximately four hours of sleep for the past two days. Niobe laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Go home Ghost. They won’t be in for a couple of hours. Get some rest.”
“I think…” He was cut off by another yawn.
Niobe gave him one of her Captain Looks. “That’s an order.” He started to protest, and her manner softened “I’ll call you when they get in, okay?” she said quietly.
“I’d appreciate that Captain.” She clapped him on the shoulder. She understood, though sometimes he wished she didn’t.
He passed a hand over his face, trying to rub the exhaustion away. Thoughts were swirling around the back of his head like a brewing storm. At the moment, he was too tired to feel anything at all and simply grabbed his bags and stumbled to the elevator.
---
Ghost lay quietly on his bed, staring at what would have
been the ceiling if the lights had been on. Despite his exhaustion, sleep
eluded him. The contentedness at being home had faded to a static restlessness.
He felt utterly drained, but unable to sleep. Too distracted even to meditate,
but too tired to do anything about it. So he lay on his bed and twisted the
sheets in his fingers and tried not to think about it. It was useless, of
course. It was his own private spiral, dragging him down. It was a game, of
sorts. Testing how long he could go. Sighing mentally, he wove the scattered
threads of thought into a whole, picturing the face that haunted him. Pale
skin, dark hair and delicate features. Deadly and elegant inside the Matrix and
so strangely innocent outside, despite the bloodshed. And hopeful- a refreshing
attitude after listening to Sparks’ fatalistic rantings. He tried to imagine
laughter in that rich voice and he knew he would never hear it. Or at least, he
knew he would never hear it for him. It was always for another. One other.
Same old Ghost. Always wanting what you can’t have.
He knew she loved him more than anything. And he knew it would kill him to think of taking that away from her. The Oracle had asked him if he still loved her. Of course he loved her- she was his sister, his family. And yet a strange envy and shame was tied up inextricably with her. He knew what it meant for her, to love this strange messiah, and it just twisted the knife. And yet, despite all that, despite the inevitable pain that loving Neo would bring her , he would give anything to trade places with her. To be the one wrapped around him at night, to know what lurked in the unfathomable depths of those brown eyes and twine their fingers together. To know the spans of white skin by touch, instead of wondering what rough fabric concealed. He gave up all hope of the one thing he desired for the one who meant the most to him- his sister, when all he wanted was to take her place.
Frustrated and angry with himself, Ghost retreated into memory. He remembered her, so newly unplugged and unscarred by the war, he hair not grown back. He remembered her bitterness at the first loss of a crewmate and how she was quietly sick the first time she killed. He remembered her glare and the way her eyes shone when she laughed, but her blue eyes darkened and changed to his brown ones He remembered meeting him, fresh out of his pod and painfully shy. Ghost had been intrigued by his soft voice and quiet demeanour. At first, he assumed it was simple curiosity- the whole of Zion was fascinated by this ancient poddie reported to be the One. But gradually it grew, when one night, in the temple, he was lurking in a corner- ever invisible- and he saw them at the doorway, kissing. It wasn’t the thought of someone kissing Trinity, his sister, of whom he was fiercely protective, but of Neo that stirred envy and anger. Angry and disgusted with himself, he had retreated back home and plugged into his personal processing unit and beaten the hell out of some dummy SWAT men. It hadn’t helped. Nothing did. There was only the deep and utter revulsion that he would dare to think of Neo this way, Neo who was Trinity’s lifeblood, Neo who loved her so dearly in return. Even he could see that they had something so special, so…holy that to think of coming between them was blasphemy.
He sighed and rolled over, staring at the faint outline of
the door. Same old Ghost.
Restless and uneasy, his brain finally shut down on him and he drifted off to sleep, deep and dreamless. The jangle of the phone broke the silence, shrilling away in the darkness. He didn’t hear it and didn’t get to see them until the next afternoon.
If he had known it was going to be their last visit to Zion, he would have shaken off his exhaustion and gone down to greet them. Or maybe he would have hidden in his room and nursed his shame until the feeling passed. It didn’t matter. He didn’t hear the phone, and slept on.
Fin.