Fic: New System [5/?]
Title: New System [5/?]
Fandom: Tron: Legacy
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Tron (eventually), Zuse and Gem (mentioned)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters/world/etc. I'm just borrowing them.
Summary: Sam and Tron trying to deal with newly discovered information, about each other and the Grid.
Chapter 5
New System
Sam had turned back around after Tron started moving, eyes darting around to everything before he clenched them tightly shut, taking a shaky breath before opening them back up and walking forward. He decided to take a seat by the no longer lit fire place, sitting down almost stiffly. As short as his time was with his father, there far too many memories crammed into this place, it was almost overwhelming.
Tron took the seat opposite of him, hesitating briefly before actually sitting, seemingly unsure of doing so. He watched the program shift slightly, and couldn't help cracking a smile, even under the circumstances. It was obvious even to him that the program wasn't used to human styled luxuries.
“So..” he trailed off, eyes finding their way to the large squares on the floor before he tried to make himself comfortable in the chair, looking back up at Tron, “What happened after I left.”
Tron's eyes wandered over to the extinguished fireplace, a distant look coming over his features as the memory archive in his system began to stir.
“Four cycles ago is when you and the ISO went back to the User world, and Flynn initiated the reintegration. The reintegration did not reach the city, so it was left undamaged from the impact that cleared the Sea of Simulation,” Tron said, eyes returning to the user when he spoke.
“Didn't reach the city? But then why was there rubble-” Sam started, but Tron raised a hand in a request for silence, continuing where he left off.
“The Grid was quiet for a time, but the chain of command was no longer in place, that system had been eradicated with Clu. The city no longer had a leader to take command, so the system became what Users call 'anarchy.' Most programs tried to maintain their daily functions, but with Clu gone the more radical programs of the resistance stepped forward, causing what you Users call 'mayhem', even more disruption to the system,” Tron paused, eyes returning to the fireplace.
“But it doesn't look that way now-” Sam tried again, but Tron raised his hand once more, causing the User to let out a small huff. He has to be pausing on purpose, he thought to himself, expression turning slightly defiant until the program continued.
“Many were fighting for the role of power, but one program rose quickly above the others, holding an unforeseen edge that none of the others possessed. A fraction of a disc, the combined functions of Flynn and Clu. Somehow he obtained it after the reintegration, and was using its' information as a form of weapon. The shard is small, but as you are more than aware, the Creator's disc holds more data and information than any program is capable, or even aware of. Even a fraction of such a disc holds more on it than a lone program should have,” Tron paused again, letting Sam take his words in. When he looked back to the User, he saw an adequate expression on his face, but couldn't help thinking it was a bit much.
Sam's mouth was hanging open, to say the least, eyebrows drawn together in a mix of confusion and shock. He didn't even know what sound to make in return, let alone form words.
“..Wait wait WAIT. Wait,” he finally said after a few moments, “I thought it all went with the reintegration? Nothing could have made it out of that from what I saw!” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbow on a thigh after a moment and leaning his head down, rubbing his forehead firmly with his fingers. “So aside from that mystery, do you know who has it? Who's running things now?” he half groaned out, expecting not to recognize the coming name.
“He was formerly known as Zuse, but has appeared to have altered himself, and for many cycles went by the name of Castor, owner of the former End of Line Club. At his side is a white haired Siren named Gem,” the program replied calmly, back a little stiff against the chair.
“WHAT?!” Sam yelled automatically, raising his head quickly before sitting straight up, confusion and shock written all over his face. “Zuse and Gem have a fraction of Dad's and Clu's disc. Zuse. And Gem,” he ground out, only getting a nod from the program across from him.
He all but face palmed.
Scratch that.
He did face palm. With both hands.
“I don't believe this,” he finally groaned out, disbelief heavy in his tone, though he knew Tron wasn't lying. “How..did those two of all the programs end up being the ones in power. How. I mean some military nut I could understand, but an information dealer and a Siren? Never mind,” he answered himself quickly, “I don't want to know. So why were you fighting in the arena?”
Tron stiffened at the question.
“Shouldn't you be fighting for a rebellion or something instead? What were you doing in there? I thought you weren't the type to just go out and derezz,” he asked as he sat back up, expression openly confused and aimed at the program.
Tron's eyes wandered down to the floor, remaining silent. He hadn't said anything for so long Sam wasn't sure he was even going to reply.
“Retribution,” the program finally said, voice quieter and eyes focused on the floor, “I do not deserve to lead anyone into a battle. I can neither take back what I did nor fully atone for my acts, all that is left is..” he trailed off for once, and Sam's fingers clenched slightly, realizing where this was going.
“So..what? You just planned to die in there? Wait for someone to come along and kill you like a dog?” he asked in an accusatory tone, briefly mentally apologizing to Marvin for the metaphor, but his expression was all but accusing. There was a knot in his chest, and his face showed it, brow furrowed, face disbelieving once more, but there was something else there, too, something Tron had not seen in many, many cycles.
Sam was what User's called 'upset', 'angry.'
Tron's eyes finally found their way back to the Users', face forcefully blank, but eyes searching, resolute but slightly wavering. “I have done many things during my time as the Enforcer,” he gritted out the last word, almost of his programmed vocal chord's own will, “things you would deem 'terrible,' 'unforgivable' by User's standards. I do not expect you to understand what you do not know nor comprehend.”
“So then tell me,” Sam insisted, leaning forward a little in his chair, “make me understand so I can make you understand that you're wrong.” He wasn't having it. None of it. Not from Tron of all people. ..programs, his mind corrected, not that he was currently seeing much of a difference. People did the same thing, blaming themselves, bearing more weight than they know they're capable of handling, it was the same thing, wasn't it? I won't let him do this to himself, he thought stubbornly, determined.
Tron was watching Sam again, continuing to keep his face carefully blank, but he couldn't help his circuits jumping slightly at the chance to be forgiven for all that he'd done, which only made him detest the feeling even more. I can't be forgiven, not by this User, not by Sam Flynn. Flynn surely would never be able to see past what I have done, either, he thought quietly to himself, eyes focused intently on Sam.
“I aided in eliminating the ISOs,” he heard himself say aloud, stunned at his own actions. He hadn't intended on answering Sam. “I was ordered to seek out and destroy the remaining colonies, I did destroy the remaining colonies. I..enjoyed the fights I was put in, in the Game Arena and in the outside battles. I spared no program, no ISO, no rebel, I destroyed them all, all that I could find. I..enjoyed the spike in my circuitry when I had fulfilled my missions to their up most complete. I..” he trailed off again, voice cracking in the strangest of ways, foreign to his own hearing, his carefully placed blank expression wavering into something akin to guilt.
Sam's face had gone from intently listening to shocked, stunned, and now he was looking at him with something he had once heard Flynn call 'sadness', his eyes wide and staring at the program.
He didn't know what to say.
Tron stood up suddenly, immediately in one swift movement, it was the only way he really seemed to move, agilely, lithely. He turned away from the fireplace, eyes looking at a floor square briefly before moving to Sam, the guilt still on his face, but also accompanied by a sort of determined resignation. “I am not the program I was when I fought against the MCP,” he said aloud, confirming his own thinking pattern, “I am not the hero you once looked up to.” He turned his head away from the user then, remaining perfectly still for a moment before he spoke again, more quietly this time. “You should get some rest, Users cannot constantly run,” and then he left the room, walking past the transparent static electricity wall into a darker portion of the house, the light reflections from the digitized water layering his suit and circuitry as he passed it and disappeared down a hall.
The program was gone before Sam could get a single word out, left to his own in the wide, light filled room to stare after Tron's minimal back circuitry until it was out of sight. And really, he didn't know what to say. His determination aside, he didn't know how to handle deep rooted issues, didn't even know how to handle his own, never mind handling someone else'.
So he sat there, for what felt like hours, just staring at the place where he last saw Tron before he disappeared into the house's inner workings, going over the program's words like clockwork in his head. He stayed there for a while, eyes having shifted to the fireplace at some point, before he finally got up, finding his way to the room his dad had let him stay in when he had first come to the safe house, as brief as it was. He pushed the door openly slowly, eyes focusing to glance around for a moment before he gradually made his way over to the end of the bed, taking a seat on the comforter, cushion giving a bit under his weight.
“I am not the program I was when I fought the MCP.”
Sam fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling above him.
“I am not the hero you once looked up to.”
He rubbed his face with both hands for a moment, rolling onto his side. The action earned him a shot of pain running up through his ribs, causing him to wince for a moment. His battle injuries were trying to make themselves more and more known now that his body had wound down and the adrenaline was gone, but his mind was still in utter, distracting chaos.
What am I supposed to say to that? he thought, closing his eyes, what would you say, dad? Would you forgive him? Or would you hate him? Could you hate him?
Sam rolled the idea around in his head, curling up slightly on his side as he wrapped an arm somewhat around himself, hand pressing gently between himself and the bed, against the pain in his side. He quickly scrunched his face up disapprovingly at the thought, opening his eyes to stare at the other side of the room.
“I want to go with you dad.”
“Yeah, well, someday, you will.”
“To the Grid?”
“Haha, goodnight Sam.”
He closed his eyes again, gradually drifting in and out of sleep for a while from exhaustion, images old and new flashing through his mind when he was awake, joined by Tron's words echoing like a mantra in his head.
“You tried, Sam.”
“Sam!”
"Sam-"
“We need to go.”
“Sam Flynn.”
Sam closed his eyes tightly at some point, burying his face into the comforter on the bed.
“I have an action figure of you.”
The User stiffened on the comforter, turning his head so that only half of his face was buried in the blanket, staring half lidded at the dark digital material.
“What is an action figure?"
“It's a small toy, made of plastic. It's like a..miniature replica of you. Lights up too.”
“I see.”
Sam let out a breath before sitting up, edging back to the end of the bed before making his way, a little groggily, to his feet.
“I am not the hero you once looked up to.”
“He fights for the users!”
He started walking towards the door, pausing.
“I am not the hero you once looked up to.”
Sam reached for the door.
“Sam!”
“You tried, Sam.”
“Sam Flynn.”
“..Sam.”
The User lifted his head high, straightening his back as he pulled the door open wider, exiting the room. You're wrong.
______________________________________________
Tron was aimlessly roaming the house, too distracted by his memory banks to really stop and pay attention to anything he came upon, including the time he spent doing it.
I should not have told him, he thought, finally stopping in the middle of a long hallway, eyes unfocused as he turned and leaned back against a wall, hunching over and letting his head hang just slightly.
I should not have told him, his programming repeated, fists clenching abnormally at his sides. I shouldn't have- Tron slammed a fist back against the wall, jaw clenching as he stared down at one of the large lit squares that made up the floor.
The User asked, I was merely complying with the request, his programming supplied, teeth gritting after a moment.
Why do I feel the unnecessary urge to scream?
He didn't scream, though. Instead he slid to the floor, forcefully putting his system into standby and shutting off his programming, opting to do something useful instead, like rest.
Later however, after coming back online, he found himself wandering the house once more, ending up on the steps outside, eyes shifting between focused and unfocused on the city before him.
____________________________________________
He wound up looking through most of the house, in a variety of rooms he never got to see the last time he was here. Finally, he made his way back to the main room, where he found Tron out by the pool, sitting on the steps. So that's where he ended up.
“It's a nice view,” he said aloud after crossing the transparent wall of static electricity, stopping to stand just behind next to where Tron was sitting. Neither of them said anything more, the silence once again filling the space as they looked out.
Trons' eyes didn't shift from the sight, didn't even have to when he heard the quiet footsteps coming from inside the house. He knew who it was, the only being it could be, as far out as they were.
“You're wrong,” Sam finally said after a while.
That drew Tron's eyes to look over at his companion. “What am I wrong about?” he finally asked in return, waiting patiently for a reply.
“Everything you did with Clu was horrible. I know, I was there for some of it,” he started, and couldn't help noticing the small flinch Tron gave at the words. So he's been thinking about it, too, Sam thought.
“Then I was correct-”
“I'm not finished,” the User cut him off, and Tron closed his mouth and returned to waiting patiently, eyes turning to the ground in front of him.
“You won't be forgiven for things like that easily, and a lot of people will hate you for what you did. I'm sure there's a fair amount who still do,” Sam said, eyes softening after a moment before moving forward, taking a seat next to the program, “but you were wrong. You're still my hero.”
Tron's eyes widened slightly before he forced his expression back to being carefully blank, eyes now focused more than ever at the ground. “How can you come to that conclusion with all that I have told you?” he asked, his head leaned down a bit, forearm resting on a thigh.
“Because of what you've been doing since I ended up in the arena,” the User answered simply, turning his head to look at the program.
“But I-”
“Shut up,” Sam cut him off again, which startled Tron, snapping his head up to look at the User, look for once openly confused. Sam couldn't help cracking an amused smile at the sight. “You've helped me non-stop almost as soon as I got here. Rinzler,” he emphasized, and Tron flinched, “wouldn't do that. But Tron would. He fights for the users, doesn't he? Helping programs along the way, trying to restore peace and balance to the Grid,” he finished, giving Tron a small grin.
Tron could only stare, eyes a little wide, surprise obvious on his face. That blank look really wasn't sticking.
“I-”
Sam gave him a look that said something along the lines of 'don't argue with me on this,' and he closed his mouth. After a few moments the edges of Tron's lips twitched just slightly.
“Thank you, Sam Flynn.”
“I told you, it's Sam.”
“..Sam,” Tron corrected, eyes softening just a bit.
They stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the moment. Tron knew he wasn't forgiven, not exactly, but he knew Sam would defend him even with that fact, and that made something in his circuits tighten, constrict the flow of energy.
“So..” Sam said after a while, looking back out at the city, “What are we gonna do?”
Tron followed his line of sight after a moment, eyes going over the view. “What we came here to do,” he answered simply, turning back to the User, “strategize.”
Sam just looked at him dubiously before giving him a grin, “let's come up with some crazy shit.”
Tron just shook his head in disbelief.
They stared at each other for another long moment, each taking the other in with a newer understanding. It was only when they heard the sound of the elevator behind them that they snapped to attention, turning quickly to face the wide open lit room and the new visitor that had made their way inside.
(You'll have to copy/paste the link):
http://shaishda.livejournal.com/1864.html The Chase [ Ch. 4 ] | http://shaishda.livejournal.com/2379.html The Hunt [ Ch. 6 ]
Fandom: Tron: Legacy
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Tron (eventually), Zuse and Gem (mentioned)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters/world/etc. I'm just borrowing them.
Summary: Sam and Tron trying to deal with newly discovered information, about each other and the Grid.
Chapter 5
New System
Sam had turned back around after Tron started moving, eyes darting around to everything before he clenched them tightly shut, taking a shaky breath before opening them back up and walking forward. He decided to take a seat by the no longer lit fire place, sitting down almost stiffly. As short as his time was with his father, there far too many memories crammed into this place, it was almost overwhelming.
Tron took the seat opposite of him, hesitating briefly before actually sitting, seemingly unsure of doing so. He watched the program shift slightly, and couldn't help cracking a smile, even under the circumstances. It was obvious even to him that the program wasn't used to human styled luxuries.
“So..” he trailed off, eyes finding their way to the large squares on the floor before he tried to make himself comfortable in the chair, looking back up at Tron, “What happened after I left.”
Tron's eyes wandered over to the extinguished fireplace, a distant look coming over his features as the memory archive in his system began to stir.
“Four cycles ago is when you and the ISO went back to the User world, and Flynn initiated the reintegration. The reintegration did not reach the city, so it was left undamaged from the impact that cleared the Sea of Simulation,” Tron said, eyes returning to the user when he spoke.
“Didn't reach the city? But then why was there rubble-” Sam started, but Tron raised a hand in a request for silence, continuing where he left off.
“The Grid was quiet for a time, but the chain of command was no longer in place, that system had been eradicated with Clu. The city no longer had a leader to take command, so the system became what Users call 'anarchy.' Most programs tried to maintain their daily functions, but with Clu gone the more radical programs of the resistance stepped forward, causing what you Users call 'mayhem', even more disruption to the system,” Tron paused, eyes returning to the fireplace.
“But it doesn't look that way now-” Sam tried again, but Tron raised his hand once more, causing the User to let out a small huff. He has to be pausing on purpose, he thought to himself, expression turning slightly defiant until the program continued.
“Many were fighting for the role of power, but one program rose quickly above the others, holding an unforeseen edge that none of the others possessed. A fraction of a disc, the combined functions of Flynn and Clu. Somehow he obtained it after the reintegration, and was using its' information as a form of weapon. The shard is small, but as you are more than aware, the Creator's disc holds more data and information than any program is capable, or even aware of. Even a fraction of such a disc holds more on it than a lone program should have,” Tron paused again, letting Sam take his words in. When he looked back to the User, he saw an adequate expression on his face, but couldn't help thinking it was a bit much.
Sam's mouth was hanging open, to say the least, eyebrows drawn together in a mix of confusion and shock. He didn't even know what sound to make in return, let alone form words.
“..Wait wait WAIT. Wait,” he finally said after a few moments, “I thought it all went with the reintegration? Nothing could have made it out of that from what I saw!” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbow on a thigh after a moment and leaning his head down, rubbing his forehead firmly with his fingers. “So aside from that mystery, do you know who has it? Who's running things now?” he half groaned out, expecting not to recognize the coming name.
“He was formerly known as Zuse, but has appeared to have altered himself, and for many cycles went by the name of Castor, owner of the former End of Line Club. At his side is a white haired Siren named Gem,” the program replied calmly, back a little stiff against the chair.
“WHAT?!” Sam yelled automatically, raising his head quickly before sitting straight up, confusion and shock written all over his face. “Zuse and Gem have a fraction of Dad's and Clu's disc. Zuse. And Gem,” he ground out, only getting a nod from the program across from him.
He all but face palmed.
Scratch that.
He did face palm. With both hands.
“I don't believe this,” he finally groaned out, disbelief heavy in his tone, though he knew Tron wasn't lying. “How..did those two of all the programs end up being the ones in power. How. I mean some military nut I could understand, but an information dealer and a Siren? Never mind,” he answered himself quickly, “I don't want to know. So why were you fighting in the arena?”
Tron stiffened at the question.
“Shouldn't you be fighting for a rebellion or something instead? What were you doing in there? I thought you weren't the type to just go out and derezz,” he asked as he sat back up, expression openly confused and aimed at the program.
Tron's eyes wandered down to the floor, remaining silent. He hadn't said anything for so long Sam wasn't sure he was even going to reply.
“Retribution,” the program finally said, voice quieter and eyes focused on the floor, “I do not deserve to lead anyone into a battle. I can neither take back what I did nor fully atone for my acts, all that is left is..” he trailed off for once, and Sam's fingers clenched slightly, realizing where this was going.
“So..what? You just planned to die in there? Wait for someone to come along and kill you like a dog?” he asked in an accusatory tone, briefly mentally apologizing to Marvin for the metaphor, but his expression was all but accusing. There was a knot in his chest, and his face showed it, brow furrowed, face disbelieving once more, but there was something else there, too, something Tron had not seen in many, many cycles.
Sam was what User's called 'upset', 'angry.'
Tron's eyes finally found their way back to the Users', face forcefully blank, but eyes searching, resolute but slightly wavering. “I have done many things during my time as the Enforcer,” he gritted out the last word, almost of his programmed vocal chord's own will, “things you would deem 'terrible,' 'unforgivable' by User's standards. I do not expect you to understand what you do not know nor comprehend.”
“So then tell me,” Sam insisted, leaning forward a little in his chair, “make me understand so I can make you understand that you're wrong.” He wasn't having it. None of it. Not from Tron of all people. ..programs, his mind corrected, not that he was currently seeing much of a difference. People did the same thing, blaming themselves, bearing more weight than they know they're capable of handling, it was the same thing, wasn't it? I won't let him do this to himself, he thought stubbornly, determined.
Tron was watching Sam again, continuing to keep his face carefully blank, but he couldn't help his circuits jumping slightly at the chance to be forgiven for all that he'd done, which only made him detest the feeling even more. I can't be forgiven, not by this User, not by Sam Flynn. Flynn surely would never be able to see past what I have done, either, he thought quietly to himself, eyes focused intently on Sam.
“I aided in eliminating the ISOs,” he heard himself say aloud, stunned at his own actions. He hadn't intended on answering Sam. “I was ordered to seek out and destroy the remaining colonies, I did destroy the remaining colonies. I..enjoyed the fights I was put in, in the Game Arena and in the outside battles. I spared no program, no ISO, no rebel, I destroyed them all, all that I could find. I..enjoyed the spike in my circuitry when I had fulfilled my missions to their up most complete. I..” he trailed off again, voice cracking in the strangest of ways, foreign to his own hearing, his carefully placed blank expression wavering into something akin to guilt.
Sam's face had gone from intently listening to shocked, stunned, and now he was looking at him with something he had once heard Flynn call 'sadness', his eyes wide and staring at the program.
He didn't know what to say.
Tron stood up suddenly, immediately in one swift movement, it was the only way he really seemed to move, agilely, lithely. He turned away from the fireplace, eyes looking at a floor square briefly before moving to Sam, the guilt still on his face, but also accompanied by a sort of determined resignation. “I am not the program I was when I fought against the MCP,” he said aloud, confirming his own thinking pattern, “I am not the hero you once looked up to.” He turned his head away from the user then, remaining perfectly still for a moment before he spoke again, more quietly this time. “You should get some rest, Users cannot constantly run,” and then he left the room, walking past the transparent static electricity wall into a darker portion of the house, the light reflections from the digitized water layering his suit and circuitry as he passed it and disappeared down a hall.
The program was gone before Sam could get a single word out, left to his own in the wide, light filled room to stare after Tron's minimal back circuitry until it was out of sight. And really, he didn't know what to say. His determination aside, he didn't know how to handle deep rooted issues, didn't even know how to handle his own, never mind handling someone else'.
So he sat there, for what felt like hours, just staring at the place where he last saw Tron before he disappeared into the house's inner workings, going over the program's words like clockwork in his head. He stayed there for a while, eyes having shifted to the fireplace at some point, before he finally got up, finding his way to the room his dad had let him stay in when he had first come to the safe house, as brief as it was. He pushed the door openly slowly, eyes focusing to glance around for a moment before he gradually made his way over to the end of the bed, taking a seat on the comforter, cushion giving a bit under his weight.
“I am not the program I was when I fought the MCP.”
Sam fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling above him.
“I am not the hero you once looked up to.”
He rubbed his face with both hands for a moment, rolling onto his side. The action earned him a shot of pain running up through his ribs, causing him to wince for a moment. His battle injuries were trying to make themselves more and more known now that his body had wound down and the adrenaline was gone, but his mind was still in utter, distracting chaos.
What am I supposed to say to that? he thought, closing his eyes, what would you say, dad? Would you forgive him? Or would you hate him? Could you hate him?
Sam rolled the idea around in his head, curling up slightly on his side as he wrapped an arm somewhat around himself, hand pressing gently between himself and the bed, against the pain in his side. He quickly scrunched his face up disapprovingly at the thought, opening his eyes to stare at the other side of the room.
“I want to go with you dad.”
“Yeah, well, someday, you will.”
“To the Grid?”
“Haha, goodnight Sam.”
He closed his eyes again, gradually drifting in and out of sleep for a while from exhaustion, images old and new flashing through his mind when he was awake, joined by Tron's words echoing like a mantra in his head.
“You tried, Sam.”
“Sam!”
"Sam-"
“We need to go.”
“Sam Flynn.”
Sam closed his eyes tightly at some point, burying his face into the comforter on the bed.
“I have an action figure of you.”
The User stiffened on the comforter, turning his head so that only half of his face was buried in the blanket, staring half lidded at the dark digital material.
“What is an action figure?"
“It's a small toy, made of plastic. It's like a..miniature replica of you. Lights up too.”
“I see.”
Sam let out a breath before sitting up, edging back to the end of the bed before making his way, a little groggily, to his feet.
“I am not the hero you once looked up to.”
“He fights for the users!”
He started walking towards the door, pausing.
“I am not the hero you once looked up to.”
Sam reached for the door.
“Sam!”
“You tried, Sam.”
“Sam Flynn.”
“..Sam.”
The User lifted his head high, straightening his back as he pulled the door open wider, exiting the room. You're wrong.
______________________________________________
Tron was aimlessly roaming the house, too distracted by his memory banks to really stop and pay attention to anything he came upon, including the time he spent doing it.
I should not have told him, he thought, finally stopping in the middle of a long hallway, eyes unfocused as he turned and leaned back against a wall, hunching over and letting his head hang just slightly.
I should not have told him, his programming repeated, fists clenching abnormally at his sides. I shouldn't have- Tron slammed a fist back against the wall, jaw clenching as he stared down at one of the large lit squares that made up the floor.
The User asked, I was merely complying with the request, his programming supplied, teeth gritting after a moment.
Why do I feel the unnecessary urge to scream?
He didn't scream, though. Instead he slid to the floor, forcefully putting his system into standby and shutting off his programming, opting to do something useful instead, like rest.
Later however, after coming back online, he found himself wandering the house once more, ending up on the steps outside, eyes shifting between focused and unfocused on the city before him.
____________________________________________
He wound up looking through most of the house, in a variety of rooms he never got to see the last time he was here. Finally, he made his way back to the main room, where he found Tron out by the pool, sitting on the steps. So that's where he ended up.
“It's a nice view,” he said aloud after crossing the transparent wall of static electricity, stopping to stand just behind next to where Tron was sitting. Neither of them said anything more, the silence once again filling the space as they looked out.
Trons' eyes didn't shift from the sight, didn't even have to when he heard the quiet footsteps coming from inside the house. He knew who it was, the only being it could be, as far out as they were.
“You're wrong,” Sam finally said after a while.
That drew Tron's eyes to look over at his companion. “What am I wrong about?” he finally asked in return, waiting patiently for a reply.
“Everything you did with Clu was horrible. I know, I was there for some of it,” he started, and couldn't help noticing the small flinch Tron gave at the words. So he's been thinking about it, too, Sam thought.
“Then I was correct-”
“I'm not finished,” the User cut him off, and Tron closed his mouth and returned to waiting patiently, eyes turning to the ground in front of him.
“You won't be forgiven for things like that easily, and a lot of people will hate you for what you did. I'm sure there's a fair amount who still do,” Sam said, eyes softening after a moment before moving forward, taking a seat next to the program, “but you were wrong. You're still my hero.”
Tron's eyes widened slightly before he forced his expression back to being carefully blank, eyes now focused more than ever at the ground. “How can you come to that conclusion with all that I have told you?” he asked, his head leaned down a bit, forearm resting on a thigh.
“Because of what you've been doing since I ended up in the arena,” the User answered simply, turning his head to look at the program.
“But I-”
“Shut up,” Sam cut him off again, which startled Tron, snapping his head up to look at the User, look for once openly confused. Sam couldn't help cracking an amused smile at the sight. “You've helped me non-stop almost as soon as I got here. Rinzler,” he emphasized, and Tron flinched, “wouldn't do that. But Tron would. He fights for the users, doesn't he? Helping programs along the way, trying to restore peace and balance to the Grid,” he finished, giving Tron a small grin.
Tron could only stare, eyes a little wide, surprise obvious on his face. That blank look really wasn't sticking.
“I-”
Sam gave him a look that said something along the lines of 'don't argue with me on this,' and he closed his mouth. After a few moments the edges of Tron's lips twitched just slightly.
“Thank you, Sam Flynn.”
“I told you, it's Sam.”
“..Sam,” Tron corrected, eyes softening just a bit.
They stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the moment. Tron knew he wasn't forgiven, not exactly, but he knew Sam would defend him even with that fact, and that made something in his circuits tighten, constrict the flow of energy.
“So..” Sam said after a while, looking back out at the city, “What are we gonna do?”
Tron followed his line of sight after a moment, eyes going over the view. “What we came here to do,” he answered simply, turning back to the User, “strategize.”
Sam just looked at him dubiously before giving him a grin, “let's come up with some crazy shit.”
Tron just shook his head in disbelief.
They stared at each other for another long moment, each taking the other in with a newer understanding. It was only when they heard the sound of the elevator behind them that they snapped to attention, turning quickly to face the wide open lit room and the new visitor that had made their way inside.
(You'll have to copy/paste the link):
http://shaishda.livejournal.com/1864.html The Chase [ Ch. 4 ] | http://shaishda.livejournal.com/2379.html The Hunt [ Ch. 6 ]