(Untitled)

[tronja307020]

Who: Tron and Open
When: After he's had a few millicycles to adjust to the new Grid.
Where: The Outlands and Hideout
What: Chasing his own demons
Warnings:  Nothing except possibly more wangsting Tron.  9_9

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[tronja307020]

It must have been a testament to how completely Tron was lost in his own thoughts, that he didn't initially notice the other's presence as he lay sleeping on the small couch. He spent some time simply moving about the living quarters, looking at the things the User had brought to the Grid, the strange, unusual but beautiful objects he'd decorated his home with. It seemed so special, even without Flynn there, and it was obvious that he had taken such pride in the place. It reminded him of the millicycles Kevin had talked about the day he looked forward to, when he could finally bring his son, and Alan-1, and his wife before she'd died, and a great many other of those he felt so close to, to the Grid.

The books in particular were something he found himself lingering in front of for a long while, his head tilted to read the spines. Flynn had introduced the written User language to the Grid long ago, when he'd learned that the Programs used a written visual language system that was seemingly foreign to anything in the User world. It had confused Tron. At least in his own Grid, Programs were first created with binary as their primary language and adapted to the verbal imitation of User language before adopting the written symbols even later then that, near the end of their initial compile, though it took only micromillicycles for the process to be complete. They had had no need for anything else before the User came along. But Kevin had gone out of his way in the early days of the system to sit with Tron and teach him to read it, bringing him the strange archive files called "books" for him to learn from. Seeing them now brought back painful, bittersweet memories to his processor, and he gave a long, deep sigh, one hand reaching up and hovering near their spines as if he wanted to touch, but was afraid to do so. He had no doubt Flynn would have shown all of them to him, had things not gone the way they had. And now that he was gone, it felt like a disrespect to his memory to read them, even more then simply standing in this home. He wanted to leave everything the way his User had left it. It was too special to disturb.

When he turned back to the room, though, finally took in the rest of the place around him, his eyes finally caught sight of the sleeping Program on the couch, and he stopped short, his eye going wide as he froze in place. There was no denying who he was, or...who his code had started as. The strange in-between color of his circuits, though, dim in his rest as they were, was confusing and worrying at the same time. This was not the Tron he had met when he'd first arrived back on the Grid, and though the Rinzler he'd met before had worn his helmet through the entire encounter, the dim purple circuits told him that this was more then likely not him, either.

For a moment, he found himself fascinated and equally repulsed by the damage he saw on the other's face, his hand lifting to ghost over the damage to his own. It was the same, and yet different, left him with both eyes whereas his own had taken his and left a deep fissure in it's place. Such a small, subtle detail to distinguish the two of them. He felt a pang of sadness that there was seemingly one more world-lost Tron who had gone through much the same things he had, if the scar was anything to go off of.

But then he pulled himself out of his pondering as he realized that, though he hadn't expected to find anyone here, this Tron - he refused to use the name Rinzler for one of his code-twins unless they used the name first - had obviously taken up residence here, and he had intruded. He had not wanted to disturb anyone or force his way in where someone still lived, and so he turned back, casting a long look over the quiet room around them one last time to absorb the sight of it in, and turned to make his way back to the lift with light feet.

[tronzler]

Tronzler had done much the same thing the first time he'd visited the sanctuary, looked at everything, taken it all in, and ultimately left it alone.

He didn't live there, he had a place back in the city, but he visited, often, especially -as was the case lately- when he was having trouble sleeping.

He'd been aware of the other's presence for a while, probably at least as long as Tron had been studying the bookshelf. He thought about just letting the other program go, retreat like he seemed to want to, but he couldn't. There was that same curiosity there as there was with any of the doubles, though he'd only spoken to one of them before, and briefly.

"Identify, program." He said, twisting around to sit up properly. It wasn't a particularly friendly greeting, but it was far from an unfriendly one, sounding almost puzzled more than anything.

[tronja307020]

He stopped when the voice spoke out to him, still unused to hearing his own voice in such a way, and turned back, giving the other an apologetic if not weary gaze in return.

"Tron. Just Tron." He replied, suspecting that if the other needed clarification on his identity, then it was either to ensure that he was not Rinzler, or that he was. "And you?"

The line of his back was rigid, tense, both out of the worry that he was imposing himself where he wasn't wanted, and for the potential need to act, if this duplicate was still suffering the effects of Clu's reprogramming and lashed out to attack. He had no disks, no, but he wouldn't have wanted to harm him in that eventuality even if he had. He would merely have to make an escape as quickly as possible. At the least, he had his baton on it's holster on his thigh, and could bring up a stave to defend himself if need be.

[tronzler]

He actually had to process that question for a few long moments, finally just giving a slight shrug, "Just Tron. Today." He shook his head then, looking away, "Sometimes it's not as easy to tell." Both for him and for others.

He was apparently at ease, or at least mostly at ease. Ready, but not poised for attack. He shook his head again, lifting a hand to indicate the room, "You can stay, if you like. You need the peace as much as I do. The calm." A pause, "But don't let me keep you, if you'd rather be somewhere else."

[tronja307020]

He glanced away for a fraction of a micromillicycle at the reply, nodding, understanding and saddened by it at the same time. It explained the hue of those familiar circuits. But that there was one of them that existed in a way that made knowing himself difficult from one day to the next was disheartening in a way.

The offer of welcome, though, made him look back up, and he almost looked timid, glancing around the room and then back at the figure on the couch. "I...I simply did not intend to disturb anyone when I came here. I had thought it was unoccupied. I do not feel comfortable imposing myself in places where..." Where what? Where he wasn't wanted? Where he wasn't needed?

He gave a soft, almost bitter laugh, though, shaking his head and casting his gaze down at the floor.

"To be honest, I don't really have anywhere else I am expected or needed. My apartment holds little comfort for me beyond stasis, and I have yet to find my place." In the system that had developed itself from the wreckage of that before. The clone-twin who had returned the Games to their proper configuration and reclaimed the Grid in the name of the Users and their believers had said they would all find their own place. He had not. He didn't know if he ever would. The Grid really did not need him, now that it had much more capable Guardians to watch over it. He was superfluous, unnecessary, a waste of resources.

[tronzler]

"It's still unoccupied." He said, "I only come to visit. No one lives here now." And it almost pained him to admit it, really. He knew the Creator had returned, but he was actually in the City, and some days he felt that he should seek the man out, take him up on the offer to have a look at his coding, maybe repair the fragmented memories. But something stopped him every time, some knowledge that he didn't want to remember more than he already did.

There was a twitch at his code-twin's laugh, his own sounded like that more often than not these days, "That makes two of us." He shrugged, the same narrow, spare movement it had been before, "I still keep watch. Still the Guardian." That was something that hadn't changed, even while he was fully Rinzler, he'd still kept watch over the Grid and it was how things still were now.

He shook his head then, "Nothing in an official capacity, just ... " Another head shake, "Just what I do."

[tronja307020]

The reply got a noticeably curious reaction out of him as he glanced around, at the other, at the chairs resting around the room as if he were tempted to accept the offer of welcome in what was apparently a place of mutual solace for the two of them. But he was still obviously a little out of sorts, uncomfortable being around others. Not so much other Trons, whatever their circuit color or designation was, but Programs in general.

Still, it made a bit of the tension bleed out of his form, and when Tron described living an existence that sounded much like his own - perhaps a bit more proactive then his own, but this one had obviously had longer to adjust to the new System then he had. He nodded gently, glancing back down at a glowing tile indiscernible from the rest, his hands rubbing together slowly. He was still a Program of action, and the uneasiness he felt made him feel as if he should be doing something with his hands. He just didn't know what.

"I...haven't kept watch since I've been back. Don't...I mean...there are so many of...us. I've met two before you. The one who runs the games and the...Rinzler. They both seem so-..." He stumbled on a word to describe what he meant, his mouth pulling down into a sideways frown as he glanced around again. So unusual, for one of them to have such a hard time making eye contact. It was something that never would have happened before.

"They just seemed to be so...in control of themselves. Even Rinzler. He knew himself and was well enough to know his own processor. Neither of them seemed..." Broken? Glitching? Like they couldn't break free of the pain for long enough to get their heads out of their scuzzy corruptions and just get their acts together? "I just feel a bit...superfluous, I suppose...a waste of resources."

Still, the fact that this Tron, while more well-collected the he was, seemed to understand him made him feel a strange sense of comfort. So there was another of them that had the same level of damage he had, and who still struggled with himself at times, and with his own directives. He cast a timid, apologetic sidelong glance back at him.

"I...hope you don't think it insensitive of me to say that...at least I know I'm not the only one who hasn't gotten back on his feet. Not completely, anyway."

[tronzler]

"Insensitive, maybe, but true." A nod, "I understand." He was leaning forward then, elbows resting against his knees, it wasn't as much a position of being at ease so much as it made it easier not to look at the other, which wasn't something he usually did with people, but seeing damage and pain that was far too similar to his own was difficult.

The quiet rumble of thought wasn't as bad without the helmet, in fact, it was hardly there at all, "They know who they are. I envy it, sometimes." But he was too stubborn and knew himself too well to ask for assistance even from Flynn. Quorra knew, and until now was the only one who'd seen his face, she helped in her own way, sorting through which of his dreams were actually dreams and which were memories coming through.

He shook his head, "We don't, not yet. Still learning it, remembering. Quorra says it will come in time."

[tronja307020]

He returned the nod, glancing away. It was a strange feeling, taking comfort in knowing you weren't alone in your suffering. He would not wish this kind of pain on anyone, but knowing that there was another brought a kind of relief. And while the other's words of not knowing who he was were somewhat different from his own pains, the envy was not.

"It makes me wonder what is so different about their worlds, where they've bounced back so easily and I - and You - have not." Still, he felt a moment of concern for the other's worries, the fact that he was having trouble piecing his own identity back together, and he looked back over at him, silent as an idea rolled through his mind, debating whether or not it was a viable idea or something he should keep to himself.

Still, he could not get over his code-deep desire to help those around him. In the end, that was what made him speak up again.

"The others are very different from us, I don't know how much their memories would match our own. But...as similar as it seems we are, perhaps our's would be more in synch. Maybe...maybe I could help you sort them out?"

[tronzler]

He mulled that over for a few moments himself, finally nodding, "One of us may remember what the other doesn't. Fill in the gaps ourselves." It made sense it was just that there were things that he couldn't remember and knew that he didn't want to, and it was going to take him another moment or two to be able to articulate that.

He did sit back finally, brow creasing just slightly in thought, "I think... I think some of the things I don't remember aren't worth remembering, some of them I'm better off without." A sigh, edged with the faint buzz that would have been an actual growl under the helmet, "But I don't have any way of knowing which parts those are."

Sloooowly catching up on things, yay!

[tronja307020]

The truth in that makes him sigh gently, nodding to the other and glancing at him with a faint, sad smile. "I won't lie. Much of it is painful. I...we were Rinzler for...longer then we were ourselves."

He's thoughtful as he considers his concern, and after a moment, he simply shrugs. "I could try and filter out the unnecessary, painful memories. Some of them are unfortunately tied to others that may be necessary. But there are a great many more that are simply superfluous pain. The only lag in the system would be the fact that we may not share identical memories, I suppose..."

Yay for that!

[tronzler]

"We were." It was a murmur, barely there. It was a realization he'd slowly been coming to himself, but having someone else confirm it was ... well, it wasn't exactly better, but it helped in an odd way."

He sat back, mulling over that last statement, that was the important part, right there, things might have happened differently, if similarly, for both of them. Or things may have happened completely differently, and that would really throw a wrench in the works. Finally he shook his head, "Best to just leave it alone, then, I think." A wry, almost bitter twist of a smile, "Confusing enough as it is."