Verisimilitude: a Matrix/Star Trek XI fic

[snowdarkred]

kirk_mccoy  , newtrekslash  , and my fanfiction.net account here.


Summery: Dr. Leonard McCoy has no idea why a band of leather-clad psychos kidnapped him off the street, but he is less than excited to hear what their blond-haired leader has to say about truth, reality, and hard choices.

Verisimilitude

Verisimilitude

Doctor Leonard McCoy eyed the boy across from him and wondered what drugs the kid was on. Because he had to be on something to believe the bullshit he was sprouting. Or he was just fucking with McCoy, but McCoy was willing to go with the drug theory. The kid—well, man, young man—honestly believed everything that he was saying; McCoy could tell. The kid—whatever—had the eyes of a fanatic.

A fanatic what though? McCoy worked in a hospital; he'd dealt with crazies before. But this guy? He and his “groupies” seemed to be in a league of psycho all their own.

“So you're telling me,” McCoy said slowly, drawing out his disbelief, “that the whole fucking world is just some fucked up computer sim and that I need to wake up in order to, what was it you said,” the doctor dragged a deep breathe into his lungs and continued, “'do great things'?! What are you on?”

The kid—man—whatever—just raised his eyebrows and slouched back further in his chair. McCoy was almost, almost, distracted from how totally fucking insane this guy was by what a nice picture he made in black leather, dark sunglasses, and combat boots. His blond hair glinting in dim lights of the rotting sitting room. A sliver of his blue eyes shimmer—Fuck. McCoy almost, almost dammit, missed what the man said in response.

“I'm not on anything. I am, however, getting fucking annoyed at you not believing your own fucking eyes. Seriously, did you not take philosophy in college, or were you too busy being a tight ass?” McCoy found himself blinking in surprise at how pissed the guy sounded. What the hell? Was the guy bipolar or was that a side affect of what ever he was tripping on? He had seemed to be taking McCoy's (perfectly logical) skepticism very well for someone who had lost touch with reality. But suddenly he was furious that McCoy didn't immediately agree and ask where the sign up sheet for the loony-bin was?

McCoy lost his temper.

“I haven't fucking seen anything! I don't even know why I'm fucking here! Jesus Christ, you're just some psycho who grabbed me off the street. Did you honestly think that I was just going to roll over and prescribe to your fucked up delusions?!”

Oops. Fuck. He'd just shouted at someone who had already demonstrated a blatant disregard for ordinary things like laws. The kid was already unstable and McCoy had probably just pissed him off even more. The doctor looked at the blond man and amended that statement to exclude the “probably”. Fuck again.

“Captain,” someone said, and McCoy jumped, startled. He'd forgotten the lead crazy's groupies. Leonard turned slightly in his chair, trying to get the man who had just spoken and the crazy kid in sunglasses in the same frame of sight. “I believe that Doctor McCoy would benefit from actually observing the proof that you are referencing. It would be illogical to expect him to agree with no knowledge that you are not, as he implied, currently under the influence of mind-altering substances.”

McCoy stared the tall, dark-haired man. “What are you, a fucking robot?” he said without thinking.

Everyone in the room stiffened noticeably. Leonard cursed mentally, recalling the bizarre speech about robots and death and the apocalypse. He may know that their bullshit was just bullshit, but they actually believed it, and McCoy had just accused one of them of being the “enemy”. This day just couldn't get any better.

“Er, sorry,” he said, hoping that the fierce black chick with long hair didn't shoot him with that fucking huge gun she was lugging around. “I, ah, didn't mean it like... that.”

The head crazy man—what the fuck was his name, anyway—relaxed slightly in his armchair. He peeked at McCoy over his sunglasses and Leonard noticed that he appeared to be...sheepish. “Oh. It, um, it's okay.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “I guess I got ahead of myself. Again.”

“Anyway,” he continued, glancing around at his companions, “I'm Jim.” He didn't give a surname. “That's Uhura,” he gestured at the black chick, “Spock,” the robot, “and Sulu,” the Asian man with honest to God sword strapped to his back.

“Well, you already know who I am, so there's no point in explaining the obvious. If you let me leave now, I promise to never tell anyone about your band of merry demented men, and you can go on to continue psychotically until you over-dose on LSD.” It wasn't much of an argument, and McCoy didn't think that they'd really just let him go, but he tried anyway, more out of form than any real hope.

“Jim” laughed at him, his voice dry and cracked. He stared at Leonard over the rims of his square sunglasses and smiled. “Damn, you've got a pair, don'cha?” He laughed again. “Don't worry so much. We're not gonna kill you. Well, unless you turn into Smith, in which case, yeah, we're gonna shoot you full o' holes.”

That wasn't very reassuring.

“Captain,” the robot said, a note of urgency in his voice.

“Right,” Jim said. “Proof.”

Suddenly, Jim was no longer lounging in the overstuffed armchair. He was standing beside McCoy, who hadn't even seen the guy move. Then, just as fast, he was standing beside Sulu, who didn't even blink at the fact that, the fact that.... Fuck.

McCoy couldn't follow the guy's movements at all. He was moving too fast, inhumanly fast, no one should move like that, it wasn't possible for humans to be that quick, McCoy was a doctor, dammit, he knew this shit.

And yet.

And yet the kid was suddenly standing in front of Leonard, staring at him like Leonard's eyes held the answers to the goddamn universe. McCoy could only shallow drily, watching his reflection in the the tinted planes of glass covering Jim's eyes.

“This isn't real,” Jim said. “None of it is real. It's just a computer program and as such can be manipulated. The only restrictions are the ones you accept. I want to go fast, so I bend the program, make it see me as moving on a different level than everyone else. It's like the spoon kid said,” and McCoy had no idea who the fuck the 'spoon kid' was, “don't try to bend the spoon, just realize that there is no spoon to begin with.”

McCoy sat perfectly still in his own armchair, unable to answer as his mind struggled to understand how this man, this crazy psycho who was possibly bipolar as well as high, had done the impossible.

“McCoy?” Jim whispered, sounding suddenly uncertain. “Um, are you okay?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Uhura said tartly. Leonard could almost feel her giving Jim a scorching glare. He would probably see it too, if he could remind himself how to turn his head. “There's a reason we're not supposed to awaken people past a certain age, Captain. You should know as well as anyone. They don't take it well.”

“Don't go crazy on us, McCoy,” Jim said, flashing from uncertainty to desperation, his voice taking on a wild edge. What? Why would he go crazy? It's not like this guy hadn't just shattered the fucking laws of reality. Which may not even be reality anyway. Fuck. “Please, fucking hell, don't go crazy. We've broken the golden rule, don't let us have broken you too.”

Jim leaned in and grabbed McCoy's shirt, balling his fists in the fabric and jerking McCoy slightly, making his head bob listlessly. Fuck, what was going on? Jim—who ever he really was, whatever he really was—tensed, his breathe ghosting across the doctor's face. “Don't break. We need you. I picked you out, all special and everything. Don't go, don't, not like all the others.”

What?

“Calm yourself, Captain,” Spock said, his flat voice cutting through the room's tension like scalpel. “It would be logical to allow Dr. McCoy the time to process the data you have presented him with. Rushing him would be inadvisable and would no doubt result in rejection.”

Jim dropped him like a hot brick. Not that a hot brick would likely bother him. No, he'd just tell the brick that it was cold, and then the formally hot brick would just be cold, and Jim would be able to hold the damn thing all day, 'cause he could rearrange fucking reality. Except him doing that, him doing the impossible was supposed to be proof that this wasn't reality at all.

“Maybe we should've told him differently,” the guy with the sword said, sounding remarkably sane for a guy with a goddamn sword strapped to his back. “Y'know, Morpheus has that great Alice and Wonderland speech. Seemed to work for him.”

“Morpheus is a dick,” Jim retorted, stepping away from McCoy.

“Yeah, a dick that found the One,” Uhura countered.

“You believe that shit?” Jim turned away from McCoy to stare at the gun-toting woman. “There's no proof.”

“What, like we've got proof that this guy's gonna 'do great things'?” she snapped. “Listen, Captain—”

“Nyota,” the robot interrupted. “You are letting your personal experiences emotionally compromise your performance on this mission.” The woman glared at Spock, her fierce anger transferring from the blond man to him.

“Spock,” Jim said to him, “don't be a tool. She's pissed off on your behalf. Geez, you guys are dense.”

“I have reevaluated my stance on the particular matter under discussion, and I have come the conclusion—”

“AKA, the Oracle told you off,” Sulu muttered, his eyes fixated on the window on the far side of the room.

They were ignoring him. They went through all the trouble to grab him off the street, explain some far-fetched apocalypse story to him, and now they're ignoring him to bicker amongst themselves? What the fuck?

He didn't realize that he's said that part out loud until they turned to face him again.

“'What the fuck' what?” Jim said, his expression closing off immediately. McCoy hadn't realized how much the kid—captain, apparently—showed in his face until the guy was as unreadable as the not-a-robot man. It made him feel hollow.

“I....” McCoy grappled for words. What the hell did someone say after seeing that? “I'm a doctor, not a, a....” Fuck, this wasn't working. “I don't know what you want from me. If...if this—If what you say is true and this is just some fucked up computer program, than what.... Dammit, I'm a doctor, not a computer programmer. I don't know jack shit about robots. I would be useless.”

Shit, that came out more hopeless than he'd wanted. But what was he supposed to do? He could help them save the world, and that was what he could tell they wanted to do. Everything about them screamed it, even when he'd thought they were crazy. (Thought? When had that become past tense, anyway?) They were soldiers, fighting against something so monstrous that even here, in this room cut off from everything else, they were on guard. They wanted to rid the world of the things that almost destroyed their race, that used them like batteries. And McCoy was just a mess, still torn apart and bleeding from the divorce and Jocelyn and Joanna, and fuck they weren't even real.

“You've been looking for answers, Doc,” the kid had grinned, his gaze narrowed in on McCoy's face. Searching for answers of his own, the doctor realized. Answers he thought McCoy might have. “You've searching all over the place. And I've got what your looking for, if you want to risk it. If you want to give everything up, lose everything, just to see reality.”

“But what use would I be? I can't even get on an airplane without hyperventilating.”

Fuck, he wasn't actually considering this was he? But he was. He was at the lowest point he could reach. He'd already lost everything here he'd cared about. Jocelyn had left him, taking their daughter with her; he'd lost his job at the hospital, his mother didn't talk to him, his father was dead, killed because of a disease that McCoy couldn't cure, and if none of this was real, that meant that....

Meant that they could have fixed everything. Those things had complete control over everything, and they did nothing to stop the pain and suffering of human beings. Or maybe they deliberately caused it. Maybe they got more “power” from a human suffering through a divorce than a human experiencing the best of everything. Maybe they got off on people's p—

“Stop thinking like that,” Jim said. McCoy blinked, shocked out of his fugue. He looked at Jim, at Jim's hard expression. At the others, their faces withdrawn and blank.

“Why not,” McCoy snarled. “Isn't this what you want? You want me to get pissed off, to get angry, to want to fight those bastards, to stop them from, from....! Fuck, you can't just prove that reality is a lie and then tell me to stop thinking about it!”

“You're thinking about revenge. About making them pay by blood—well, oil.” Jim paused, his facial muscles clenching with repressed emotion. “That kind of fighting will only drive you crazy. You'll go crazy for revenge and you won't care who gets hurt while you wreck your life. We've gone through too much to lose you to insanity. We don't want you to fight.” His voice was suddenly weary, like he was...like he was speaking from route. Normally, it would have given McCoy pause.

“Then why the fuck do you want me!” Leonard shouted. This wasn't fair. He was so out of his depth. “Why show me this, why take this from me, if you don't want me to goddamn do something!”

“You're a healer, McCoy. We want you to heal.”

“I—what?” Nothing was making sense. “You want me to....”

“You're one of the best doctors in the world. We need you. There aren't a lot of humans left and those that are.... It would be a shame to waste your brain here.”

“That's it?” McCoy hadn't realized how big his ego was until it was crushed. They had said that they had searched for him, for Leonard McCoy, but if all they wanted was a doctor, well, there were a lot of those.

“The individual flexibility needed to allow a human past a certain age to function in the real world is extremely rare. The captain has been searching for a long time for an individual with such a potential,” Spock explained.

“Don't break. We need you. I picked you out, all special and everything. Don't go, don't, not like all the others.”

Not like all the others.

“Others? You said there were others?” he asked before he could stop himself. He watched as Jim's face became once more closed off. The rest of the crew's faces turn faintly sympathetic as they glanced shyly at their captain from the corners of their eyes.

“Yeah, it's not important,” Jim said.

“Not important? But—”

“Don't worry about it. Just—shut up, McCoy,” Jim insisted, “'cause I'm about to ask you to make the hardest choice you will ever have to. Ever.” The blond reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and withdrew a tiny silver canister. For a brief moment, so abrupt that McCoy wasn't even sure it's real, he saw a glimmer of green run across the surface of the flask. Jim twisted it along a seam that McCoy couldn't see and the thing popped open, spilling two pills. Replacing the canister in his pocket, Jim palmed them, one in each hand, his eyes once again regarding McCoy over the edge of his sunglasses.

“You have a choice, a very real choice,” Jim's voice was dead serious, with no hint of anything except steely resolve. “You can take the blue pill and wake up tomorrow with no idea what happened tonight. You'll have no idea that anything called The Matrix exists and you can go on with your life as it is now.

“Or you can take the red one, and wake up somewhere else, in your actual body, and do something...great.”

“Why are you telling me this?” McCoy asked, his heart pounding. “If you really want me to, to bail on this—to, whatever,” God, this was so hard, why him? Why— “why not just make me take the red one? You've already demonstrated that you could make me. Why give me a choice?”

“Because you haven't ever had to make one before. Not really. You've been hooked up to The Matrix and everything in your life, in your existence, has been under someone else's control. Sure, you get to pick which kind of pop-tart you want for breakfast, but what does that matter when you have no control over what kind of pop-tart's actually going to be in the pantry? Or whether those kinds of pop-tarts exist? Or any other thing in you life?

“So what it'll be? You can take the blue pill and stay here in a dream, or you can take the red pill and I'll show you what the real world really looks like.”

Jim held the pills out, extending both hands. McCoy was fascinated by the reflection in his glasses; he could see himself in them. The blue pill rested in the curve of Jim's left hand, while the red one rolled imperceptibly, shifting slightly towards McCoy. And McCoy paused a moment and thought about the world ending and nobody even fucking knowing about it, about Joanna and Jocelyn, about his father dying in that hospital bed and the awful choice McCoy had been forced to make. Jim thought that this would be the hardest choice in his life, but it wasn't, not really. He thought of his coworkers at the hospital and their mindless gossip, and how Jim hadn't snatched any of them off the street. As far as he knew.

McCoy reached for the red pill.

“Careful,” Jim said. McCoy froze, his hand stilling in mid-air. He noted absently that while the right reflection showed his arm outstretched, the left plane showed him sitting normal. Huh. Going forward and staying still, caught perfectly by the angle of Jim's glasses. “I can't promise that you'll be happy, because life isn't about happiness. That just some bullshit dream some jackass came up with to taunt the rest of us with.”

“I don't need to be happy,” Doctor Leonard McCoy said gruffly. He took the red pill and swallowed it dry. “I just need to be needed.”

He expected something to happen right away. For something to be different. But instead, Jim just smiled tensely and threw the blue pill to the side. He motioned for McCoy to follow him as he and his groupies—crew—stalked gracefully out the side door. Leonard followed them, moving less like a feline and more like a goddamn human being. Damn, they made an impressive sight, and now that he was (mostly) sure they weren't going to kill him, he could look them over and appreciate it.

Sulu spoke quickly to Jim, his speech full of words that McCoy couldn't quite grasp. “Chekov's been mixing the signal while we've been dealing with him,” he jerked his hand toward McCoy, “so we'll have a few more minutes until the shit hits the fan. Scotty's got everything from the ship. Who's gonna—?”

“I'll work the signal jammer while he's outing,” Jim said. “Chekov, status!”

McCoy blinked, taking in the room on the other side of the door. The crew arranged themselves about it, not even hesitating at the strange set up. Computer screens and wires covered the room, interconnecting in ways McCoy had never seen before. There was an old dentist's chair intertwined in many of the wires, with more linking it to... a phone? What the fuck? The room was full of desks and tables, all sporting some interfacing electronic device. Uhura took position by one of the computer systems, flipping out a cellphone and placing it on the scarred desk in plain view. There was a tense pause, then—

“Aye, Captain, Scotty here.” The voice was fractured by static. Uhura frowned and began typing furiously on the keyboard, her fingers flying at an almost impossible speed. But then, maybe it was impossible and she was just helping reality along.

“Scotty, we need you to double check the connection strength,” she said, her voice cool and professional. “We've got him.”

“Wh—really?” was the fuzzy response. “Well, than. The connection's strong on this end.”

“Chekov, Spock get him ready,” Jim barked, sliding into the chair next to a curly haired boy McCoy hadn't seen before. “I got this.” His eyes flicked between several of the screens facing him, his fingers gliding over the keys of multiple 'boards. “We don't have much time.”

Spock all but dragged McCoy to the medical chair and forced him to sit. He didn't even get a moment to protest before Spock was wiping at the crook of his elbow with an alcohol pad, moving on quickly to his neck. The boy—he couldn't be more than sixteen, Jesus Christ—pursed his lips and fiddled with some of the wires leading to the old-fashioned phone. Spock began slapping small, square pads on the places he'd rubbed, joining them with tiny thread-like wires. McCoy jerked when one was placed on the back of his neck.

“What is all thi—”

“Doctor, there is no time to explain every technical detail to you at this moment,” Spock interrupted, moving away and looking toward Uhura.

“Give me another minute and I'll have his location—” Numerous beeps went off from the computers around Jim.

“Fuck, we don't have a minute! They've got us—Shit!”

“Fuck, they're close, Captain!” the man on the other side of the phone shouted, his voice tinny and crackling. McCoy's heart hammered in his chest, guessing from the crew's distress who “they” were. What would happen if the things, the machines, found them? If they stopped whatever these soldiers were attempting to do?

“Uhura--!”

What would happen to him?

“I've got it! Scotty, I'm patching it through! Chekov, can you—”

Would they kill him? Release him?

“I've got it, Keptin! Dialing out-link now!”

Erase his memory?

“Fuck! Hurry up! Scotty, dammit, amplify the—”

Would it even matter?

“I'm givin' 'er all she's got, Captain!”

The world twisted strangely about him as invisible thread crawled under his skin. He gasped when the strings constricted, tightening and clenching painfully around every part of his skin, cutting into him, making him bleed through his pores, digging their way to his core, to his heart—

“I've got 'im!” the man on the other side of the phone crowed.

McCoy gasped again as the feeling increased tenfold, and the world went black.

---

He came to with a gasp, except that instead of air, he sucked in traces of a thick something that felt like jello. It was all around him, and he tried to swallow, but he couldn't; there was something in his mouth, something in his throat. He could feel it, brushing against the muscles in his neck, his chest, and he felt panic seize him; he couldn't breathe, couldn't see. His hands tore at the thing snaking inside him, tore at the slosh around him. His hands met cold medal and slick glass, fueling his panic. What happened? Where was he?

He heaved upwards, breaking through a thin seal, his muscles quivering in effort. Wires dragged him down, and he blinked in the light, rubbing at his eyes with shaking hands. The air was cold against his hairless skin, but not as cold as—

He choked again, feeling nauseous at the blurry world around him. Not as cold as the thing inside him. Not as cold as the things attached to him, the things he could feel in lumps just beneath his skin. Oh God. Oh God oh God ohgodohgod! He gripped the tubes and wires and pulled, his brain ignoring the doctor side of him that demanded caution and running off of instinct instead.

Get it out, get it out, getitout!

He yanked, his muscles feeling weak and frail. He didn't think he'd have the strength to do it, but adrenaline pumped through his body and it didn't matter because he had to getthisthingoutofme now!

The thing slid free of his mouth and he could feel it as it dragged against his insides. He coughed again and let it fall into the, into the.... He looked around, his vision turning blurry and cuttingly sharp in turns. Oh God. Oh fuck. He was suspended in air, and he too busy freaking out about his other surroundings to freak out about that. Pods. He was in a pod. He was surrounded by pods. People. There were bodies, people, tapped in the pods, lying stationary in red-ish slush. Wires wound around their limbs, digging into their skin, moving independently. Jesus Christ and what the fuck, he was probably a robot invention too. There were towers. Tall, impossible towers covered in pods, in people, crawling with wires and robots and oh fuck.

McCoy'd believed them. He really had believed them, but he hadn't really thought about what that would mean here. In... In this hell.

Then—a clicking sound. He barely had time to turn sluggishly when a... a nightmare, a robot thing, grabbed him by the neck. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and there was another sliding sensation of something moving inside him. Pain washed through his body, and he couldn't do anything, the thing had him too tight. Something tore free from his neck, right were Spock had rubbed alcohol, and the area went numb with an alarming suddenness. The wires twining just under his skin ripped free, small islands of numbness along his flesh. The robot released him and floated back, beeping slightly. There was a pause, a brief instant of clarity, in which man and robot stared at each other, and then—

A shoosh sound, and the world was turned upside down. McCoy flew through a pipe, twisting and turning and oh fuck he was gonna throw up. He gagged, but nothing came up but red-ish sludge mixed with blood, and fuck, that wasn't good. The pipe turned and then dipped suddenly, and McCoy landed in a large pool of water—he hoped it was water. The weight of his own body seemed to drag him down, and he couldn't swim, he was too inexplicably weak, he used to swim laps at the gym every day, but he guessed that was fake so it didn't matter, and fuck, he couldn't die now. Not now, after he saw what those things did to people, what they did to him.

He struggled against the water, his brain becoming even more chaotic as it tried to reason him out of this situation, of this dream—nightmare. It couldn't be real; it was just a bad trip. The pill Jim gave him was really a hallucinogen, and he would either wake up or overdose, but this would all go away.

He slipped beneath the surface.

It would all go away.

“Don't break. We need you. I picked you out, all special and everything. Don't go, don't, not like all the others.”

Jim....

Metal bands seized him, gripping around his ribcage and pulling him...upwards? Were the machines after him? The claw jerked him free of the water and continued upwards, swinging slightly as he flopped uselessly against its grasp. No. NO, he would die before he let them get him again; he would rather die. The world was fading in and out around him, making him lose focus. He felt—hands? Human hands holding him? Human voices talking to him, saying, “We've got him, he's alive,” and, “calm down, Captain, he's gonna be okay! Someone get Chapel!”

McCoy felt darkness tugging on him, telling him to rest his tired bones, to sleep and sleep. He resisted it for a moment, but the temptation was too great. He relinquished his consciousness and tapered off into weightlessness.

“Hey,” a voice whispered in his ear. “You made it, you're gonna be okay. You survived. Welcome to the real world, Bones.”

Part Two

Comments are more than welcome!

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

wut?

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

um, what's 'wut' supposed to mean? Did I do something wrong? Help me out here.

[siluria]

Wow, that's very intense and very impressive!! I love how you stayed true to the film, but kept the characters as real as possible to Trek. I'd definitely love to see more, and I'm not above begging!!! :)

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

I think there will be more. Bones still has to find out why Jim calls him "Bones" and there's that little matter of the Oracle and all her mind-weirdness. This is gonna be fun....

[samwise-girl.livejournal.com]

Woah. That... that was AWESOME. So awesomely cool. I mean... woah. YAY FOR CROSSOVERS! *dances*
I respectfully request some more, yes?

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

I'm working on it. Slowly. Thanks for reading!

[luxis-lil.livejournal.com]

Great, great start! The Matrix is one my favorite sci-fi movies so I can't wait to see what you'll do with this!

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

To be honest: neither can I. Right now Bones is grumblin' and Jim is sulkin' and Gaila is doing a pole dance in engineering... in my head. McCoy is eating my brain.

[ursabee.livejournal.com]

Oooohhhh. I like this.

Sulu had a line where he got a little bit shirty with the Captain about McCoy (although it's possible I just read the line wrong- I'm functioning on very little sleep), do I sense dissension in the ranks? (and Kirk shows all the earmarks of obsession, *rubs hands together* which can only mean good things IMHO)

Consider me sucked in. *bookmarks*

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

I think Sulu's a badass and he knows it (C'mon, he's wearing a sword in The Matrix, how cool is that.) None of the crew are really happy about their captain's obsession with find McCoy. They show their love in snarky banter ;)

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

*finding

Oops, this is why I can't multitask.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_teldra_/]

Ohh, I like this! <3

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

thank you!

[pixelmayhem.livejournal.com]

Well color me happy! I'll definitely be on the lookout for more. Funny and interesting and full of wonderful AU-ness!

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I've already got 500 words of the sequel. I personally can't wait to see what happens. (What, you thought I was one of those people who planned their stories. Phht. Yeah right.)

[vala3.livejournal.com]

Man..been a long time since I saw Matrix, but want more..don't leave us hanging,,puppy dog eyes.

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

Don't worry, I have no intention of leaving anyone hanging! I've got 600 words of the sequel already written, plus two Jim-centric prequels started.

Thanks for reading!

[bluemeridian]

Fascinating! I'd love to read more if you continue it on. :)

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

Oh, I will! Bones won't leave me alone....

[maireadinish.livejournal.com]

Gadzooks, that's amazing.

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

thanks!

[emocezi.livejournal.com]

*flails*

That was AWESOME!!!!!! I can't stop freaking out about how freaking cool that was, because man, that was like...super freaking cool.

:leaves love bites on fiction:

You have GOT to do another piece to this....Please please please. *falls to knees and begs*

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

I'm working on it, but it won't be within the next week or two because I'm taking five classes at the uni and I have a paper to write and I'm trying to get my 9k+ NCIS story finished and beta'd before the new season premiere. BUT, I have the sequel started; I'm about 600 words into it, and my muse started shouting at me today, so I'm gonna hop to it in a bit.

Which is a long way of saying, yeah, don't worry about it; I've got it all worked out.

[dizilla.livejournal.com]

Matrix star trek!! Awesome! Really loving this and the fact you're paralleling it with Neo and all that instead of transplanting the characters. =D

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the first incarnation of this that was in my head had Jim in place of Neo, but I was like, no...that doesn't fit. So then I considered having McCoy (he's not "Bones" yet, more on that later) be the Neo equivalent, but that didn't fit either, so this happened. And I already have plans *evil grin*

[tonks07.livejournal.com]

I haven't seen The Matrix (bad I know) but I'm liking this. I'm interested to see what happens next! Off to continue reading...

[snowdarkred.livejournal.com]

Thank you for giving my story a try! I tried to make it easy for people who haven't seen The Matrix to know what I'm talking about. ^.^ I'm curious as to what you thought of the rest of it though. :)