religiousnut

This entry will be updated periodically whenever a new chapter is posted or the status of a chapter is changed. DF will also be going up on fanfiction.net relatively soon, and updates for that will also be logged here.

Summary
Post Legacy. A newly rebooted Ram must learn to adapt to a new system and care for a mentally and physically scarred Tron as ENCOM introduces the world to Kevin Flynn's Digital Frontier.

Chapter One
Journal Link: here
Journal Status: Completed, posted, and edited
FFN Link: here
FFN Status: Completed, posted, and edited

Chapter Two
Journal Link: here
Journal Status: Completed, posted, and edited
FFN Link: here
FFN Status: Completed, posted, and edited

Chapter Three
Journal Link: here
Journal Status: Completed, posted, and edited
FFN Link: here
FFN Status: Completed, posted, and edited

Chapter Four
Journal Link: here
Journal Status: completed and posted
FFN Link: here
FFN Status: completed and posted

Chapter Five
Journal Link: here
Journal Status: completed and posted
FFN Link: here
FFN Status: completed and posted

Chapter Six
Journal Link: here
Journal Status: completed and posted
FFN Link: here
FFN Status: completed and posted

Chapter Seven
Journal Link: N/A
Journal Status: currently being written
FFN Link: N/A
FFN Status: currently being written

Here, have a random confessions meme. Feel free to tag at any time~



Other Characters At This Meme

Charles Xavier // X-Men: First Class

The Doctor's Hand // Doctor Who

Jack Harkness // Doctor Who/Torchwood

Quorra // Tron: Legacy

Saxon/The Master // Doctor Who

Zuse/Castor

See a character you know I play that's not on the list? Feel free to request said character and I'll get up a post for them.

He hunched over a data pad, analyzing the lines of coding that filled the screen. All his attention was focused on his work as he readjusted a few digits here and there. It was absolutely essential that everything be perfect before he entered the data. Once it had been completed, there was no taking it back. Not this time.

After a considerable amount of time, he finally nodded, pleased with his work. This time he would not—he could not—fail. What he'd written was free from his previous mistakes. It would work. He'd reviewed the data time and time again, altering and adjusting where it was required. This time, he assured himself, there would be no regrets.

He inhaled deeply, anticipating the moment, and selected enter.

Slowly, bit by bit, data cube by data cube, the outline of a tall imposing figure began to form at his feet. He watched patiently, legs crossed Indian style as he focused on his own slow, even breathing. He was utterly calm, completely unmoving, hands relaxed on his knees. His eyes stayed fixed on the shape steadily forming before him even as he became one with his surroundings. The pulse of the digital world flowed through him, absorbed him, and he allowed his mind to float beyond his own being.

It was important to be prepared when the work was complete. He needed to be relaxed and focused. This was not going to be easy and he needed the extra support and calm that came from meditation. He watched quietly as the digital copy of his 30-year-old self materialized before him, hoping with all his heart that when those darkened circuits lit up, they wouldn't take on the sickly yellow of earlier cycles.

The rewriting process finished, and he gazed down at his creation with eyes saddened with age. After an eternity of stillness, he reached out to touch the other's arm lightly, sending a jolt of energy through his fingertips to waken the still figure.

Indescribable relief washed over him as the circuits lining the black jumpsuit illuminated bluish-white. The Program blinked awake, slowly allowing himself to reboot. His gloved fingers twitched, curling into fists and relaxing again. He breathed, chest rising and falling steadily. And finally, with something of an effort, he sat up.

His dark, intelligent eyes found his Creator almost instantly. “Flynn.”

“Clu,” came the soft reply.

“You brought me back,” Clu stated, his tone almost reverent. His gaze didn't waver in the slightest.

Flynn nodded, keeping eye contact. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“And you rewrote me. I've been altered.”

“Naturally. I have to be able to trust my admin, don't I?” The slightest of smiles crossed the older man's face.

The Program's eyes widened in surprise. “You intend to restore me to my previous designation? I don't understand. I failed you before, Flynn.”

“No, Clu. I failed you,” Flynn replied wearily, suddenly looking older than he ever had before.

Guilt washed over Clu as he thought of all the cycles Flynn had suffered because of his treachery. With the adjustments Flynn had made in his programming, he could finally understand the full implications of what he had done. He opened his mouth to argue, to point out that the fault had been in him the whole time, but Flynn cut him off.

“I was blinded by my ambition when I programmed you. I didn't stop for an instant to think about what I was doing. I wanted the whole world, and I wanted to show them exactly what I could do. I didn't think that perhaps my worst traits would be so strong in you, or that I ought to give you a little more leeway as far aw learning was concerned. I never thought I would change, or that anything could change without my consent, so I didn't bother making sure you could grow too.” The User paused, and Clu was surprised to see beads of moisture glistening in the old man's eyes.

“I'm so sorry, Clu,” Flynn continued softly, his voice slightly choked. “I'm so sorry everything turned out the way it did, and I'm so sorry that it was my faults that destroyed you. You're my Frankenstein's monster. I created you, and if I had just done things differently, we could have accomplished amazing things together.”

A tear slid down his cheek and into his silvered beard, yet still he smiled sadly.

A powerful emotion rose in Clu's chest and he swallowed, nodding tightly. He understood now. He could see what he had to do, what he ought to say. “We did do amazing things together,” he said in a firm yet quiet voice. “We built the Grid.” He paused for a moment, then continued.

“You might have programmed some negative characteristics into me, Flynn, but I still had a choice. I chose to go against your orders because I thought you must not have understood.” He hesitated. “But I was wrong. You understood far better than I. I should have made the choice to follow you and trust in your leadership.”

Flynn sighed. “That wasn't in your nature, or mine. I could have prevented that if I'd only had the foresight...” He trailed off and shook his head, his grizzled mane whipping back and forth. “But it'll be different this time. We both know what we did wrong before, and now we can make up for that and do things even better.” He clapped the Program on the shoulders and smiled the best he could manage. “Right?”

Clu nodded determinedly. “Of course. Together we can bring back the Grid's former glory.”

“That's exactly what I wanna hear, man!” the User exclaimed, his soft smile morphing into a broad grin. “We're gonna change the world.”

“Just like old times,” his double replied proudly, feeling a glimmer of hope. He could redeem himself. He could repair his past mistakes and more. His smile grew to match Flynn's and he nodded again. He'd been given his second chance, and he was not going to waste it.




Tron sat quietly outside of Ram's bedroom door, turning his disc over absently in his hands. Although he was exhausted, he didn't dare sleep. He was on duty, and shutting down on duty was unacceptable. He had Ram to guard and protect while Flynn was busy.

But how did one protect someone from their fears?

Since Flynn had repaired Ram, the actuarial program had been almost as good as new during the day. Some of it was faked. That was clear to Tron, who knew him better than anyone, but for the most part, Ram had been recovering remarkably well. He was all smiles again, despite the fact that the virus had chewed away chunks of his memory that Flynn had not been able to replace. But when he went into sleep mode, or attempted to, that's when the true extent of the damage showed.

Sure enough, the telltale cry of the frightened actuary pierced through the stifling silence like a gunshot. Tron pushed himself to his feet swiftly and swept inside the bedroom. Ram was trapped in twisted bedsheets and struggling violently, letting out little squeaks and whimpers of terror as he fought through a nightmare. Tron pinned him down by his shoulders, holding him still.

“Ram, wake up,” he said firmly, empathy for Ram's pain twisting agonizingly in his gut. “You're okay. Everything is okay.”

Ram's eyes shot open, wide with panic. His hands flew up to grip Tron by the elbows tightly as he breathed in fast and shallow.

“That's it,” Tron soothed gently. “I'm here. Everything is alright. You're safe, I promise.” He lifted a hand to pet Ram's mussed curls affectionately.

The actuary relaxed visibly at his friend's touch, his eyes fluttering closed again. His grip slacked, his breath slowing as he focused in on the familiar voice and tone. Tron was here. He was safe. After a moment he sat up and hugged the monitor tightly, savoring the feel of comfort and protection that seemed to emanate from him. Tron blinked in some surprise and couldn't help but smile faintly as he wrapped his arms around the smaller Program.

“Shhh,” he said quietly, reassuring him. “I'm here, Ram. I'll protect you. Nothing will hurt you while I'm around.”

A moment after he spoke the words, he realized he was making a promise he had already failed to keep. He hadn't been there to save Ram from deresolution. He hadn't protected him from the horrors of infection. And when the time came that he would have to tell his friend what he'd done, he knew he would be hurting Ram.

He breathed unevenly, his arms tightening around Ram. He let his head fall and buried his face in those brown curls, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could take the pain away and be sure Ram never had to hurt again. Tron was strong; he'd always been that way. He could deal with it. But Ram? Despite the facade that he sometimes wore, he was delicate. He was never meant for the life of a fighter, yet he'd been forced into it in the cycles of the old Encom system. Every Program the actuary had had to derezz in favor of his own life, Ram felt it like a disc to his own CPU. It wore on him, changed him, and the monitor worried that even though his days of fighting were over, the ghost of it would destroy him.

“Tron?” Ram's voice was a hesitant, breathless squeak. “You're making it hard to breathe.”

Tron instantly loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he apologized automatically.

The actuarial program shook his head, long nose brushing against Tron's chest. “Are you okay?”

The monitor couldn't help but laugh quietly. “Typical Ram. You have nightmares and ask if I am okay.”

“Well are you?” Ram watched him with his big sad eyes.

Tron chose not to answer, instead releasing his little friend and untangling him gently from the sheets. “You should get more sleep,” he murmured distractedly.

“No.”

The abrupt answer took the security program by surprise and he stared.“What?”

Ram crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly and gazed back evenly. “No. Too many nightmares and memories. I can't. And every time I sleep you sacrifice the time you ought to be shut down for...well...I'm not even sure what, but I know you don't sleep, and that you haven't really gotten in a good downcycle since I got infected.”

So Ram had noticed. He thought he'd been getting away with it, but apparently not. He sat down on the bed beside his friend, fighting back the random and inexplicable urge to smile. “I've been working.”

“How foolish do you calculate I am? You haven't been working. You've just been watching me. But I'm not the one that needs taking care of, Tron.”

Tron sighed. “You are not foolish, Ram. I don't think that. Being infected is a traumatic experience and as your friend I wanted to ensure that you would be alright.”

A sarcastic smile quirked the corners of Ram's lips upwards. “Flynn told you many times that I would be fine.”

The monitor had no answer for that. Running on low energy made him a little testy and he was starting to lose patience. Ram seemed to pick up on that and dropped it, sighing a little.

“I can make you a deal,” the actuary suggested hopefully. “I'll shut down if you do.”

Tron considered for a moment. “But then there will be no one keeping guard.”

“Is that really necessary? Flynn said his place was already very reinforced and protected, even if there was any kind of threat to the Grid, which there isn't right now, as far as I know,” Ram pointed out.

The monitor sighed, too tired to keep arguing. “It seems I have no choice,” he said slowly, getting to his feet.

“You can stay in here,” the smaller Program said quickly, catching Tron by the elbow. “I mean...Flynn mentioned once it might keep my nightmares away if...someone was...with me.” He ducked his head in some embarrassment, trying to hide behind his curls.

That was the last response Tron could have possibly anticipated. He blinked a little in surprise, watching his suddenly shy friend blankly.

“I mean...I just thought it...might be nice...for us.” Ram twisted the sheets between his hands nervously. “There's plenty of room and...I think we both sort of...need it. Sleep, I mean.”

Tron really did need some sleep.

“Alright,” he replied agreeably, after a short pause. “Move over.”

Tron stumbled back into the containment facility, thanking the Users that Ram was so small and light. It was hardly difficult to carry the shut down actuary over his shoulder. He did his best not to think, instead focusing on the task at hand. Get Ram to Flynn and hope for a miracle. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was something to concentrate on. He readjusted the Program on his shoulder and pressed forward.

Flynn was exactly where the two had left him, crouched over a limp Program with a disc in his hands. He didn’t move when Tron approached, all his attention fixed instead on identifying and solving the damage that the virus had caused.

“This is gonna take some time,” he murmured to himself, scrolling through the damage code once more. “The damage is pretty extensive...I’m going to have to rewrite certain sections of it.”

Tron gently eased Ram down with a muffled grunt. “Flynn, there’s something more important you need to work on first,” he said quietly, crouching down beside his friend and brushing back his curls affectionately.

After a long pause, Flynn finally glanced up from his work. Tron hardly noticed. He’d pulled Ram into his arms again and buried his head in the other’s curls, breathing in slowly and evenly. He was trying so hard to stay calm, to stay relaxed, but Ram was his best friend. Ram relied on him, depended on him. He needed Tron to protect and save him. But now how could he?

Flynn’s gentle hands pried him away from the little actuary and Tron moved away, nodding tightly. He swallowed and got to his feet. The User knelt beside Ram and unhooked his disc, glancing up at Tron.

“I’ll do what I can,” Flynn promised. “He’s not completely corrupted like the others.”

Tron nodded wearily and slumped down against the wall. All the effort he’d been putting out in the past millicycle was hitting him hard, and the emotional stress of Ram’s condition wasn’t exactly helping. Yet still there was work to be done.

“No rest for the wicked,” he muttered, picking up another of Flynn’s User quotes.

With a heavy sigh, the security Program forced himself to stand up. Anon would be waiting for him and they could always get more work done together rather than separately.

Flynn glanced up from his work as Tron made to leave. “You should get some rest, Tron. You’ve been working too much and it’s going to take some time to get Ram back. You won’t be missing anything.”

“No, I’ve got work,” Tron murmured tiredly. “I’ve got a virus to hunt down.”

The User opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Norton, who entered the room in a great state of excitement.

“We’ve found it,” he gushed. “It’s coming from the data streams. All the infected Programs have accessed the system files in the past twelve millicycles. We’ve already pinpointed the exact location of the particle that’s been causing all the trouble, and there’s several monitors already on their way to shut it down. It’s over, Tron.”

Tron was far too emotionally exhausted to react the way he ought to at hearing the news. Instead he simply nodded. “Good. That’s...that’s good.” There was a short pause and he realized perhaps he should say more. “Great job, Norton,” he tacked on hastily.

Norton nodded and crouched down, following Tron's eyes to the shut down Program and continuing in a quieter voice. “Don't worry about overseeing the rest of this,” he said gently. “We can handle it if you'd rather sit it out.”

There was a long pause before the older monitor looked up. “I think I ought to,” he replied softly. “I need to make sure Ram's going to be alright.”

“Are you alright?”

Tron fell silent and looked away. When it became obvious that no reply was forthcoming, Norton straightened up, stretching.

“Well, I'll tell you, I'm certainly looking forward to shutting down for a few millicycles,” he chuckled to himself. “I'd suggest you do the same. Take care of yourself, Tron.”

“Oh. Yes. You too,” came the slightly delayed response. The older monitor's eyes were back on Ram, and he hardly even noticed when Norton left. Everything was starting to blur slightly at the edges and he knew it wouldn't be long before his power drained completely. Maybe the other Program had a point; a quick nap couldn't hurt, right?

Tron's eyes slipped closed and he shut down, his head drooping onto his chest.



He was hardly out for long. Barely half a millicycle later Tron rebooted at a meager sixty percent output. It wasn't much, but he was getting used to running on low energy, and it was better than before. He yawned and stretched, blinking a few times as the world came back into focus.

A whirl of white and a cheerful hummed melody announced the arrival of a visitor. Arms laden with several bottles of premade spiked energy, the Program known as Castor bustled inside, swaying slightly. His pale eyes brightened as they focused in on Flynn and a broad grin split his face.

“I believe you called for me?” he asked in a singsong voice.

Flynn chuckled and got to his feet, gently easing the bottles from Castor's arms and setting them down. “Good to see you too, Zuse. It seems you've already gotten started without us.”

Tron scowled darkly and got to his feet, casting the other Program a glare more suited to something Rinzler would wear beneath his helmet. “You invited him?” he shot at Flynn in disbelief. “This Program is a coward and a traitor. Why did you even rewrite him?”

Castor's smile tightened as his eyes grew cold. “Because I'm the best barkeep in the entire Grid,” he replied snarkily.

The Creator gave Castor a you're-really-not-helping-shut-up look before turning back to address his old friend. “Everyone deserves second chances, Tron,” he said simply, giving him a meaningful glance.

Tron caught Flynn's double meaning and fell into a sulky silence. Of course he would bring that up.

“We're on the same side, Tron,” Castor remarked brightly. “I'm wearing the blue circuitry now, see?” He held his arms out, showing off the tiny slivers of blue running down his sleek white robes.

“You haven't earned that, Castor,” Tron shot back.

“It's Zuse now,” the other Program corrected him. “And have you earned yours?”

In a flash, the monitor had Zuse pinned against the wall, his activated disc out and pressed against the pale flesh of his neck. Tron's eyes were cold and merciless as a harsh raw growl emanated from the back of his throat.

“I helped build the very ground you stand on. I have overseen and protected the Grid to the best of my ability and if you test me again I promise I will end you,” he spat menacingly.

“Tron!” Flynn called sharply. “That's enough.”

No one moved for a nanocycle until finally Tron backed off and tucked his disc away. Zuse swallowed, still feeling the sharp edge at his throat. He exhaled and passed a hand over his eyes. Point duly noted, Tron.

“Now, we're all tired, which is actually why I asked Zuse to come here,” Flynn continued, raising an eyebrow at the overdramatic Program.

“Ah. Of course,” Zuse replied a little shakily, straightening up and smiling tightly. Tron's sudden attack had sobered him up considerably. “Flynn, if I could have some place to mix and store drinks? I've got several more bottles that should be brought in.”

“Never were one to travel light,” the User said with a small chuckle. He reached back for a data pad and entered the correct coding quickly. After a moment, he looked over to the far corner of the room expectantly. Tron and Zuse followed his gaze, waiting.

Pixel by pixel the countertop bar began to rezz, complete with several bar stools. Tron was hardly impressed; he'd watched Flynn build and rebuild his digital home and was familiar with the process. He was close to apathetic to everything at this point to begin with, so he didn't even feel the usual flicker of awe.

Zuse, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He picked up his assortment of bottles and stashed them with a near inaudible squeak of happiness. Flynn chuckled in amusement and stepped forward to rap the bar lightly with his knuckles.

“Get on it, man. Something for every active Program in here, understand? And me,” he added as an afterthought.

“At your service!” replied Zuse, offering a flamboyant bow.

Tron sank back down against the wall again, gazing at Ram's still form. His disc was resting on the ground beside him, and for one insane moment he considered picking it up. For Ram to have caught the virus, he must've accessed the system files at some point. Flynn had mentioned that the actuary had indeed left just after Tron had, and had acted oddly upon his return. His abnormal behavior more recently could, of course, be credited to the virus. But maybe there was more to it than that. Tron couldn't help but calculate that there was a fair chance that the information he'd discovered had contributed to his decline. It was possible that maybe, just maybe, Ram had learned the agonizing truth of Tron's past. If he just checked his disc...

A whole nanocycle later, the monitor rejected the thought. No, Ram would surely have acted differently towards him if he knew. It would have been obvious, particularly to Tron, who knew the little Program better than anyone, excluding Ram's User, of course.

Which brought up a whole new slough of thoughts to consider. Had Ram's User given up on him, or had he been fruitlessly attempting to contact his derezzed Program all these cycles? Or was Flynn his User now since he'd rewritten him?

Too many questions with too few answers, and they didn't even pertain directly to Tron. With a rueful smile, the monitor realized that with the return of his best friend had come the return of his former sentimentality.

“Tron? Care for a drink?”

Tron blinked up at the white-clad Program, who was currently waving a glass of energy at him a slightly apologetic smile.

“No, thank you,” Tron murmured in reply.

Zuse dropped down to the monitor's level and nudged the glass into his hands. “Oh, believe me,” he said brightly. “You need this.”

With a twitch of his lips that could have been a smile, the exhausted Program let his fingers close around the proffered drink and took a sip.

User, why had he never let Zuse mix him something before? The energy surged pleasantly through him, causing his circuits to illuminate briefly and his eyes widened in surprise. He gulped the rest of it down greedily, relishing in the sudden, delicious power.

Zuse's smile widened. “I don't even you've ever had the pleasure of enjoying one of my famous drinks, have you?”

“I...can't say that I have,” Tron admitted, surprising himself with a returning smile.

“Come. I'll mix you another.”

The next millicycle was one of the busiest Tron had ever experienced. It was absolutely essential to locate and contain all of the infected Programs, but the number kept increasing. The virus spread fast and until the source was determined, it was near impossible to keep up with all it.

Try as they might, Tron and Anon couldn't contain all of the infected Programs. A good number of them put up too much of a struggle and had to be derezzed. This bothered Tron, but there was nothing to be done about it. In some cases, it was either a virus or the monitors, and the logical course of action there was impossible to refute.

He found himself at Flynn's doorstep just as the millicycle came to a close. He needed a break, if only for a few nanocycles, and the other monitors were handling things as best they could, well enough to manage without their leader.

And he'd promised Ram he'd come back soon.

The monitor took a deep breath and stepped inside, the darkened panels lighting up beneath his feet. Flynn was sitting cross-legged on the floor, clearly in the middle of meditating, and Tron hesitated. He didn't want to interrupt, and Ram apparently wasn't here. He had half a mind to leave before Flynn uncurled himself from the floor and stood, turning around to face the Program.

“Tron,” he said simply, smiling gently.

“Hello, Flynn,” came the slightly awkward reply. Then his instincts kicked in and he did what he did best these days: he spewed information. “You most likely already know this, but there's been confirmed rumors of a virus in the system. Not as obvious or even as tangible as Abraxas. The source is something much more subtle, but we haven't quite found it yet.”

The User listened carefully, nodding a bit even as a small frown curved his lips downward. “And what have you done to prevent any further infection, then?”

Tron hesitated only half a moment. “All of the system's monitors are working nonstop at locating and capturing infected Programs to keep in the holding facilities at the very edge of the Grid. Norton and his team are searching for the source, but so far there's been no luck.”

“Have them check for similarities in the infected Programs,” Flynn suggested. “You might find something there.”

“I'll let them know,” the monitor replied. “For security reasons, it would be best if you halted your work on rewriting Programs at least until the virus has been stopped. Also, it could be dangerous to have anyone entering or exiting the system right now. The virus may be able to spread to the User world.”

The other considered for a moment, nodding slowly. “Yes, you're right. I'll shoot Sam and Quorra a text and tell them to stay away until further notice.”

He glanced back at the closed door to Ram's room, frowning slightly. Tron followed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Where is he?” he asked curiously.

Flynn opened his mouth to explain Ram had shut himself in his room since Tron's last visit, then decided against it. “I'll go get him,” he said instead. “I'm sure he'd rather not miss out on seeing you. Why don't you sit down?”

The security Program complied even as Flynn got to his feet and padded lightly to Ram's room, bare feet making no sound on the lighted tile. He quietly opened the door and stepped inside. The actuary was sprawled out and powered down on the bed yet again, his mouth half open and his hand drooping off the edge of the bed. The User noted with some concern that he was still worryingly pale, though that could have come from being shut down so often in the past millicycle. What time Ram had spent outside of his room had been limited by his unusually short temper.

Flynn sat down beside Ram, the bed sagging a little at the extra weight. The actuary had been acting extremely odd since his return to Flynn's place. He wondered if perhaps simply the meeting with Tron had been too great of a strain on him so soon after his reboot. Regardless, all this moping around and sleeping couldn't be good for him.

The User got off the bed and shook the little Program lightly. “Get up, man, you've been shut down for ages.”

Ram stirred and immediately scowled darkly. “Don't you know it's rude to wake a Program?” he grumbled, rolling over onto his side and covering his head with his pillow.

Flynn was momentarily taken aback by the irritable attitude of his usually cheery friend. That wasn’t like Ram at all.

“Thought you might like to know that Tron dropped by to see you, but if you'd rather stay in bed, fine by me,” he replied coolly. “I'll let him know you're busy.”

“Tron?” The actuary blinked and sat up. ”He's here?”

The User simply nodded.

Ram slipped out of bed and yawned, stretching. He still felt awful like he could use another three hundred cycles to recharge, but if Tron was here, there was no way he was going to miss that. He tugged anxiously on a stray curl and bit his lip, watching Tron almost shyly as he approached. It was odd. Ram felt vaguely like there ought to be something that should make him feel uncomfortable around his old friend, yet he couldn't place what exactly had changed since the last he'd seen him. The awkward silence stretched on.

“Oh, Tron,” Flynn said suddenly. “You said that you were containing those Programs. Why?”

The monitor hesitated. “I...thought perhaps you might be able to do something to help them.”

Ram blinked, watching the the exchange between the two. All his functions were running much more slowly than usual and it was taking a considerable effort to follow the conversation.

“I might,” the User mused to himself. “That depends on the damage code.”

Tron turned his attention to Ram and nodded. “Hello, Ram.”

The actuary nodded back, his movements slow and deliberate. “Hey.” There was stiffness to him; the way he spoke and just the way he held himself reflected that of a much older and outdated Program. It worried Tron. It seemed like Ram had aged a thousand cycles in the past millicycle and he didn't like it at all.

“Flynn, I could take you to them if you like,” the monitor offered, glancing back at the User.

Flynn stirred, as though rousing himself from a deep sleep, and nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea, Tron. We'll take Ram with us. He could use a little fresh air.”

Ram blinked. “What? No, that's alright. I just need more rest...”

“You've had enough rest,” Flynn told him firmly. “You've been shut down almost the entire time since you've been here.”

The actuary let out an annoyed huffy breath. “You can't make me go anywhere,” he sulked in a tone so unlike his own that made Tron's worry increase tenfold. He hid his surprise and anxiety, however, and addressed the smaller Program himself.

“Please come with us,” he invited, not unkindly. He met Ram's eyes and held his gaze steadily for several nanocycles before the actuary complied.

“I...oh, alright,” Ram relented.


Flynn immediately went to work upon seeing the rows and rows of shut down infected Programs. Abandoning his two companions, he gently unhooked one Program's disc and dived into the coding, murmuring to himself as he worked.

Tron and Ram exchanged glances and couldn't help but grin at each other, both reviving slightly as they did so. Ram's functions were beginning to speed up and he stretched a bit, looking around at the cavernous containment facilities. They didn't do much to hold his attention, however, and he glanced back at his old friend.

“Maybe you could show me more of the system?” he suggested almost shyly, twirling one of his curls absently with a finger.

The monitor thought on that for a moment before nodding. “Anon should be able to hold out a little longer without me,” he decided, giving Ram a tiny smile. “We'll take the Recognizer. Just a quick tour of the Grid, okay, and then I have to get back to work.”

“Sure,” the smaller Program agreed easily. Tron was relieved to hear him talking and acting more like himself and led the way to his Recognizer with much more cheerfulness than before.

Ram's first impression of the Recognizer was that he did not like it. He managed to keep himself quiet as Tron took control of it and gently eased them away from the containment facilities. He leaned back until he was resting against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the buzzing at the back of his head.

Ram's peculiar behavior had Tron anxious once again. Back in the old days, Ram would have been chatting the security Program's ear off. He wouldn't have really said anything worth paying attention to, and honestly sometimes he could be annoying with his pointless talk. Yet now Tron oddly missed that. Maybe it was because hearing Ram talk kept him from thinking too much about things like missing Ram talk. He worried absently that perhaps the actuary had somehow found out about Rinzler. But no, Flynn had mentioned that Ram had been inside since Tron's last visit, and Ram was an open book. If he knew, Tron would know that he knew.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong with him. Ram shivered and breathed in slow, eyes fluttering open as he looked around. This was not a good place to be. He needed to get out of here now.

“Tron...” he called weakly.

The Program in question was maneuvering a trickier section of the Grid with the over sized Recognizer and couldn't afford to glance back. “Mmm?”

Ram's hands scrabbled for something to hang on to in order to keep himself upright. “Tron,” he repeated, a tone of urgency in his voice this time.

“Hang on, Ram.”

The phrase jolted something in the actuary's memory. He put his hands to his temples, closing his eyes and breathing hard. He hated Recognizers because...because...that's where he'd derezzed...

Pain shot through his skull and he cried out. “Tron!”

The Recognizer slammed to a halt and Tron spun around just in time to see his friend crumpling. He rushed forward to catch him under the elbows and eased him down slowly. Ram's circuits were flashing from white to yellow, a color so horrible that it made Tron's breath catch in his throat.

“No, no, no, no,” he murmured feverishly, panic racing through him as he pulled the little Program into his lap. Yellow circuitry meant only one thing.

Somehow, Ram had been corrupted.

He had the virus.

Ram trembled and whimpered, his body convulsing every now and again in Tron's arms. He latched on to the monitor's wrist and gripped it tightly, breath coming in harsh little gulps. “Tron,” he whispered, undisguised fear obvious in his eyes. “Help.”

Tron had frozen up, unable to take the situation in. The pained whisper from Ram snapped him out of his trance and immediately his CPU began racing for some kind of a solution. There had to be something he could do before Ram was completely infected, right? Some way to stop it, at least some kind of temporary solution until Flynn could fix him properly.

Norton had said the infection took only half a millicycle to complete itself. Flynn's residence had always been carefully maintained to remain bug-free, which meant that Ram must have caught the virus somewhere else in the system. Yet the User had said that his new ward had stayed inside since Tron's visit. This was where things stopped making logical sense. It had been over a full millicycle since Tron's last visit.

Flynn had said all Ram had been doing was sleeping...

That was it! The actuary had been delaying his own infection through shutting down!

“Ram, I need you to listen to me,” Tron said in a calm, firm voice that somehow didn't reflect his inner turmoil in the slightest. The whimpering Program fell silent and nodded, his grip on Tron's wrist tightening. “You need to shut down, Ram.”

Ram's eyes widened. “B-but--”

“No buts. That's for Users,” the monitor retorted, quoting something he'd heard Flynn say cycles ago. “Do it.” In a gentler voice he added, “you'll be alright, Ram. Flynn and I will figure something out. It'll be okay.”

Ram swallowed, his circuits flashing dangerously. “I-I...” he began, but a wave of pain washed over him and he shuddered violently. He squeezed his friend's wrist once, and abruptly went limp, his circuits going dark.

Tron gazed sightlessly at the little Program in his arms, trying to calm the storm inside him. Viruses had never been cured before. What made him think that Flynn would be able to do it this time? What if he'd just lost his best friend? Again?

The thought was so horrible that he trembled and hugged Ram's limp form close. Hesitant fingers gently stroked loose brown curls, as though reassuring himself through touch that he would be able to find some way to cure his friend. This would keep the virus from spreading, at least for now, but as to a permanent fix, he wasn't sure that was attainable.

No, no, he couldn't let himself think like that. Flynn could do it. Ram had believed so strongly in the Users. While Tron's faith had been shaken, he knew it would do no good dwelling on the what-ifs. He had to take Ram back to Flynn and pray that there was something the User could do.

Tron wasn't sure what he would do with himself if he lost Ram again.

Status: Edited

Tron left soon after, much to Ram’s displeasure. As the monitor brushed past, Ram caught him by the elbow, fingers wrapping around his arm tightly.

“Tron,” he began, pleading in his eyes and voice. “Stay with me for a while.”

The security Program smiled tightly and gently unlatched himself from his friend. “I’ll be back, Ram,” he promised. He ruffled the little Program’s curls lightly and swept out the door, leaving Ram gazing dejectedly after him.

“Don’t expect too much too early,” Flynn said after a pause, watching the actuary from his doorway. “He’ll come around eventually, but it’s going to take some time.”

Guilt washed over Ram. “I listened in to your conversation,” he admitted sheepishly.

The User smiled sadly. “I know. I wanted you to. Tron would never willingly let you see how he’s coping right now, yet you needed to know. Ensuring that you overheard what he had to say seemed the best course of action.”

Ram sighed and hugged himself, nodding. Poor Tron. He wished he could help him properly, but without knowing the entire situation, it would be difficult to tell what he could or could not say. He knew more than he had previously, so he was slightly better off, but even so.

An idea slowly began to form and he turned back to the other.

“Flynn, is information in this system free? I mean, can everyone access it?” he asked.

Flynn considered. “Well, almost all of it is available to all Programs. There are some more specific coding details that can only be viewed with admin access as a safety protocol. Are you looking for something in particular?”

Yes. Ram bit down on his lip to keep himself quiet. “Nothing really specific. I just thought I might go check out an I/O tower and see for myself what’s happened,” he explained. “Even in the old system, they kept detailed records on everything that happened.”

The User nodded. “Of course. I was going to rewrite a Program or two, but if you like, I can take you to the closest tower.”

“No, that’s alright,” the actuary replied quickly. “I’d rather go alone, and I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t get lost.”

Ram waved once before stepping outside. The barren, unfriendly terrain of the Outlands greeted him and he glanced over towards where he knew the city lay. He couldn't see it from here. A rack of batons propped up beside the door caught his eye and he reached out to take one. A little marking on the end indicated it was that of a lightcycle and he smiled to himself. That was something he knew well. Ram launched himself forward and pulled the baton apart, watching the ‘cycle rezz around him. It felt more comfortable on all sides than the previous design and the actuary was especially glad that he wasn’t hunched over uncomfortably in an area too small for even him.

The ‘cycle was one of a newer model that Flynn had been working on for some time, an all-terrain bike designed to function on and off the main Grid. It was faster than even the vintage that Clu had captured some cycles previously. It leapt forward, engine purring loudly as it spit out rocks from beneath the tires. Ram let out a shout of excitement, grinning as the wind whipped his curls every which way. There was something about riding a lightcycle that was so exhilarating, and the handling on this one was just beautiful. He sped happily across the rocky Outlands and glanced around, quickly spotting the closest I/O tower.

Even though the system was incredibly different from the one Ram had known, some things had to stay close to the same. The I/O tower was one of those things. Not necessarily that it looked the same, but that it was the same. All of Ram’s functions heightened around it and it sent out the same tingly, crawly feeling.

One lightcycle ride later, Ram found himself gawking up at the tower. As he tucked away his baton, he couldn’t help but wondering absently if his original User was aware that he’d been rebooted. He made a mental note to check if there were any messages left from him.

First things first, to see for himself what had happened in Flynn’s system since its inception. This was the easiest place for Programs to access information directly from the system. Ram approached one of the access panels glowing faintly on the walls and put his hand to it, closing his eyes and diving into the data stream.

At first, the sheer amount of information overwhelmed him and he faltered. Everything flickered oddly at the corners, and then, abruptly, he was fine. Ram relaxed and sifted through the data, easily finding the records of the system.

Apparently the system had been around since just after Ram’s deresolution. He skimmed through the origins of the system, rather pleased to find that Tron had always been an integral part of everything. There was also another there had had helped Flynn and Tron. Codified Likeness Utility, or Clu.

Things went wrong somehow. Clu was corrupted and went rogue. Threatened Flynn and supposedly killed Tron.

Ram shivered violently. So that’s where Tron had got his scar, from fighting for the Users.

Tron, repurposed by Clu into the Black Guard known as Rinzler. Rinzler, Clu’s right hand man, head of the Black Guards…ruthless killer. Slaughtered thousands in the Games, which were once again turned barbaric, and actively participated in the annihilation of the Programs known as ISOs. The genocide of a peaceful people, an extremely unique race that Flynn had been delighted with and Clu had felt threatened by.

Flynn forced into exile with the very last of the ISOs. Quorra. Rinzler searched for them on Clu’s orders but never managed to find or capture them. Assisted in the rectifying of millions of Programs, again on Clu’s orders. Captured the last ISO and brought her to Clu, knowing she faced a fate worse than death.

Yet Sam Flynn had saved her, saved them all. Oddly enough, his life had been spared upon initiation into the Grid during the Games by the same Rinzler.

Rinzler attacked and fired on Sam, Quorra, and Flynn. At the pivotal moment, however, he’d fought back. He turned on Clu. Flynn reintegrated the rogue Program and miraculously survived. Yet the Program he pulled out of the Sea of Simulation was no longer Rinzler, but Tron. He’d emerged horribly scarred, mentally and physically, unable to face what he’d done.

Ram staggered backwards, reeling with the overflow of information. This was what Tron hadn’t wanted him to know. He almost wished he hadn’t sought out the truth himself. It was agonizing to face.

Tron…Tron derezzing millions of innocents…He wouldn’t….

Ram’s breath came in fast and uneven as he trembled. His circuits sparked and flickered uncertainly. It was too much to take in. Too much too compute. His eyes fluttered back into his head and he shut down, collapsing onto the cold ground



Some immeasurable time later, Ram blinked awake, sitting up with a soft groan. An unfamiliar system monitor was kneeling beside him, but they were all unrecognizable with the black helmets that hid their faces from view. He instinctively scanned the Program’s chest, almost relieved to discover that it wasn’t Tron.

“Are you functional?” the monitor asked with a hint of concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ram muttered, massaging his temples. In all honesty he felt awful, oddly weak and shaky. “I think I tried to upload too much information at once.”

“You are Ram?” the stranger guessed.

The actuary blinked and nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, a little confused.

“I am Anon. Flynn sent me after you.”

Oh. Ram nodded again and wondered how long he’d been shut down. Silently, Anon held out a hand for Ram and helped pull him upwards. The actuary gave the other a small smile of thanks.

Now that he thought about it, that had been rather odd. Ram had never been prone to fainting spells and he’d been designed to handle larger amounts of information. That shouldn’t’ve been enough to initiate a shut down. He must just be still adapting to being so newly rerezzed. That might have been too great a strain simply because he was so fresh in this system, not to mention the information had been so deeply personal. That had to be it. There was no other logical explanation.

As he stepped out of the tower, Ram had the oddest feeling that there was something else he had wanted to do here, but he couldn’t think of what it was.

**Scene Change**

Ram felt very strange after that, still unsteady and shivery. Anon, who he had learned had also been recently rerezzed, escorted him back to Flynn’s place before returning to duty with Tron. Ram gave him a small smile goodbye before retreating back inside to Flynn.

The User smiled brightly at the actuary as he entered, which was only just barely returned with a shadow of his usual energy. That was unusual. Immediately Flynn was concerned.

“Everything okay?” he asked, watching the other closely.

“I don’t know,” Ram replied honestly, slumping down into a nearby chair.

“Did something happen?”

The Program shrugged. “Just exploring the system,” he mumbled. “I think I’ll go power down for a while.”

Flynn sighed and nodded. Obviously he wasn’t getting anything out of Ram today. “Go ahead.”

Ram trudged off to the room that was temporarily his, feeling the worried eyes of the Creator on his neck all the way there.

**Scene Change**

Tron sighed to himself as he sped along on his lightcycle, hardly concentrating on where he was going. Ram’s expression when he’d walked away…Tron wished he could explain to him that he was just trying to protect him.

He knew that eventually he would have to tell Ram everything. Ram was not unintelligent and was one of the most stubborn Programs Tron had ever encountered. He would know something was wrong, if he didn’t know yet, and he wouldn’t stop until he knew exactly what was going on. Tron could only sidestep his questions and sympathetic faces for so long, and avoiding him completely was out of the question. That would only serve to hurt them both, not to mention it would upset Flynn.

He derezzed his ‘cycle and approached the silent squadron of monitors. Most of them, like Tron, had until very recently been Black Guards. And as difficult as it was for all of them to move past that, there was no denying that they functioned very well together.

Tron stopped, facing the line of Programs, and rested his hands on his hips.

“Report,” he ordered.

One of the monitors stepped forward. “Rumors of a virus have been confirmed.”

“User,” Tron swore under his breath, his scowl deepening. “Continue.”

The Program stepped back, only to have another monitor take his place. He was the only unhelmeted one of the lot, long black hair only partially hiding the thin scar that ran vertically from brow to chin. “It takes only a half millicycle before total infection is complete. The source is still undetermined. It appears to be originating from something considerably less conspicuous than the Abraxas virus and more like a corrupted data particle, though it is still powerful. Corrupted Programs are two point seven five times stronger after infection.”

Tron took it all in quietly, nodding. “Alright. Split into groups of two or three and take a Recognizer. Those should be able to locate infected Programs. Retrieve all corrupted Programs and take them back to containment centers one and two. Use more if necessary.”

He looked them over, assessing.

“Anon, you're with me. You have your orders. Commence.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Then the scarred Program spoke.

“Tron, wouldn't it be better to simply derezz them? Infected Programs are only destructive and very dangerous to the system. Containing them would only be a waste of space.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Tron's face. It was actually nice to hear some objection after being in the Black Guards for so long.

“We've derezzed too many Programs. These are good people who've been corrupted against their will,” he replied firmly. “Flynn may be able to help them, and we aren't using those facilities for anything at the moment. But I do appreciate you speaking up, Norton. We're stronger when we can talk these things out. Are there any more questions?”

No one spoke and the head of the monitors nodded in satisfaction. “Alright. Time is of the essence. Now get going.”

Status: Edited

Just as the actuary's last thoughts the night previously had been of Tron, so were his first. The ground felt unusually comfortable and Ram wasn't quite ready to get up, just as always. Doubtless Tron was already up and running, and he'd know, just as he always did, the exact moment of Ram's return to consciousness. Must be some sort of security program thing, what with all their scanning processes and intimate knowledge of the system. Tron would be telling him to get up any nanocycle now, maybe teach him something new that would ultimately end up saving his existence at some point during the Games.

Any nanocycle now...Ram didn't bother opening his eyes just yet. Tron had been becoming more taciturn and withdrawn with every passing cycle, and this was one of their few moments where they could talk and enjoy each other's company before some of Sark's lackeys showed up and spoiled Tron's mood.

The security program never made his smaller friend wait this long without saying something. Ram's eyes opened, taking in the tidy white room blankly for a moment before it all came rushing back. He was at Flynn's place, rewritten to adapt to a completely new system. Ram sat up and yawned, stretching and taking in his own unfamiliar circuitry. He ruffled his own curls, which he was actually starting to like now that he was getting used to them.

He felt a thousand times better than he had the previous millicycle. He was obviously still adjusting to his new coding, but now he felt less like a stranger and more like himself. Ram slid out of bed, pleased to find that this legs were supporting him now that he was back at maximum power, and he carefully remade the wrinkled sheets. He looked around the room curiously, gazing around with interest. He approached the mirror, a little surprised at the reflection that met his gaze. He prodded his rather large nose and tried to calculate what color his eyes were. After a few moments, he grinned at himself and nodded, watching his brown curls flop around with a laugh that was almost a giggle. He liked that face in the mirror. It was definitely still Ram and he nodded approvingly once more. Yep. That would work.

He explored the room for a little longer before growing bored. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the main area of residence. Flynn was nowhere to be found, so Ram took it upon himself to discover a little more about his surroundings. The room intrigued him, filled with all sorts of things he could only assume were digitalized versions of common User items. Ram skipped over to a shelf full of odd rectangles that opened up to reveal sheaves of squiggly symbols. He recognized them as letters, but Ram had never learned how to read this odd language. The actuary had only needed to know how to read binary and other mathematical code. As those were the only languages he had used to communicate with his User, learning to read another had seemed excessive at the time of his initial programming. Now, however, he was reconsidering. Maybe Flynn could teach him to read these confusing squiggles.

He wandered over to the hearth and crouched down beside it, curiously examining the odd data cylinders from which a visible flow of energy and data particles emanated. Yet the oddest part was that it seemed to give off heat. Ram reached out hesitantly to touch it.

A moment later he yanked his hand back with a yelp. The circuitry in his fingertips had turned bright red and throbbed painfully.

“Owwww,” he complained, sucking his hurt fingers and blowing on them lightly.

“Everything okay, Ram?” Flynn stepped in from outside where he'd been meditating, a slight frown on his face. Upon seeing the little actuary crouched in front of the hearth and cradling his fingers, however, he had to fight back a smile.

“It hurt me!” Ram exclaimed, scandalized.

Flynn couldn't help but laugh at the outburst. “It's a fire, man. It gives off heat. It'll burn if you get too close.”

He crossed the distance between them and gently took Ram's wrist, examining his burnt fingers. Interesting. He'd never seen a Program burn before. The circuitry in Ram's fingers glowed scarlet and he did his best to help, sending some Grid energy into the actuary's burns to take the edge off the pain. After a moment the User released his hand and Ram looked at it. His fingertips were still cherry red but the pain had faded.

“Thanks,” he murmured, examining his hand. Flynn's User abilities unsettled him a bit. It would take a while to adjust to that. While he'd always believed in the Users and their godlike powers, it was still unnerving to see someone he had once known and trusted do things that really should not be possible. Ram was hardly unfaithful or disbelieving. It was just that this was Flynn doing all this.

The dull thumping of boots on tile announced a visitor and the two looked up expectantly, Ram still wiggling his red fingers.

Curious to see what Programs in the new system looked like exactly, Ram took in the sleek black suit first, admiring how the design clung to the wearer yet still managed to look stylish. Much more stylish than the ones from the old system, anyway. The visible circuitry was very limited on this Program, only a few white spots here and there. The main feature of the suit, however, was the symbol across the chest: three horizontal squares, with a square coming down vertically from the center square.

Tron.

Caught up in his current objective, Tron hardly gave the actuary a glance before focusing his attention on the User.

“Flynn, I ran into Sam on his way back to the Portal and he mentioned that you—“

Tron trailed off as his eyes went back to the smallish Program beside Flynn. Ram was gazing up steadily at him, lips trembling slightly as he took in the face of his old friend. It was almost exactly the way he remembered it, the strong, almost stern set of the jaw, the dark, intelligent eyes.

But the scar! Horrible lines of damaged coding that stretched from beneath his ear and ran diagonally down the side of his neck before disappearing into his suit. A confused mixture of horror, sympathy, and ardent affection flooded his eyes and made it impossible to speak or even breathe properly.

Tron stared in disbelief at the little actuary, unable to fully comprehend. His gaze flickered to Flynn, questioning. The User nodded, smiling gently. He clapped the two on the shoulders silently and retreated back to his room. He had a feeling he was getting in the way of a reunion that had been fourteen hundred cycles in the making.

Both Programs watched him go before turning back to each other. Ram reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing lightly over the exposed data. Tron winced slightly but made no move to stop him, still watching his oldest friend in awed shock.

Unable to take the suspense any longer, Ram stepped forward and embraced the other tightly. A tiny almost-sob slipped from his lips and he buried his head in Tron’s chest.

Tron blinked, but then the spell broke and his arms wrapped around to hold the smaller Program close. His head dipped down to rest lightly on Ram’s, nuzzling the soft brown curls affectionately. He let out a contented rumble, a soft ‘rrrr’ing sound akin to that of a cat’s purr. Ram giggled a little and snuggled closer. Tron was here now and nothing else mattered.

Tron’s chuckle echoed that of his friend’s. User, it felt so good to laugh again. He breathed in Ram’s temporary “new Program smell” and sighed, purring happily.

At length they broke apart, both grinning in that silly way that better befitted earlier cycles.

“Ram,” Tron said contentedly.

“Hey Tron,” the actuary replied easily, bursting into a happy giggle.

Then they were hugging again, each one laughing like he hadn’t in ages. They were reunited again, the dynamic duo, and there was no way they’d ever be separated again. This time, when they pulled apart, Tron kept a hand on Ram’s shoulder. Ram wound his arm around the other Program’s extended arm and grinned. After being apart for so long, it felt good to keep the contact again.

“You’re back,” Tron commented, making Ram giggle again.

“I guess there’s perks to being friends with a User,” he replied.

“That there is.” It was so much easier to be Tron around Ram. The majority of his warring coding had been modified and adjusted to as close to his original programming as Flynn could manage, but parts of Rinzler simply could not be removed. Clu’s alterations had been in place for too long.

“Tron? Are you okay?” Ram asked worriedly.

Tron blinked again, recollecting himself and nodding. “I was calculating what things will be like now that you’re returned.”

Ram nodded. What would things be like now? Different, obviously. Flynn had warned him Tron wouldn’t quite be himself, at least, not exactly like the Tron he remembered. Ram was already starting to see that.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Ram asked again as the silence stretched on.

“Better now that you’re here,” Tron replied truthfully. “Things have…changed, Ram. I’ve changed.”

Ram sighed a little. “Flynn mentioned that you’d be different.”

A brief flash of panic and pain flickered through the security program’s eyes and Ram frantically wondered what he’d said wrong and if he could take it back.

“Exactly how much did Flynn tell you?” Tron asked, his grip on the actuary’s shoulder growing so tight it was almost painful, yet his voice stayed calm and carefully controlled.

Ram winced slightly. “N-not much. Just that you’d been through a lot.” Ram hated himself for it, but right now, he was almost scared of his friend. “T-Tron is everything okay?”

Perhaps Tron saw that look on his friend’s face, for he quickly let go of the other’s shoulder and forced a smile that the Ram didn’t believe for a nanocycle. “Fine. I’ve just got to talk to Flynn for a moment.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Ram confused and a little hurt.

**Scene Change**

It was only natural that Ram should want to hear what Tron suddenly needed to say to the Creator, so when Tron disappeared into Flynn’s room, the actuary followed to listen at the door.

He hesitated a long moment before it. Honesty and loyalty were programmed into him and was a natural part of his original purposes of serving at an insurance company. This, though, this felt like a violation of trust.

Still. He had to know. Tron was different and he needed Ram’s help. Somehow, deep in his CPU, he knew this. His programming was the way it was so that he could best help people. And no one, no one, was more important to him than Tron.

Decision made, Ram leaned in against the door and pressed his ear to it.

**Scene Change**

“Flynn, how could you do this?” Tron fumed, glaring angrily at the User.

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Tron. I brought him back for you. You need a friend who understands you. That will help you. You needed Ram.”

“This isn’t about me!” Tron shouted, pacing back and forth. “It’s about him! He might have understood me before, but not since he derezzed, and certainly not now. How can I even face him after what I’ve done? How can I tell him?”

Flynn tolerated the Program’s anger silently and without moving. “I know this is hard on you, but—“

“Hard on me, Flynn? On me? Have you thought about Ram at all? He looks up to me! He respects me! If I tell him, it’ll destroy him!”

The Creator sighed heavily. “Listen, man, I’m sorry you feel that way.” His voice grew firm. “But Ram’s stronger than he was before, and you aren’t going to be able to move past this without someone there for you all the time, someone who cares about you. I can’t do that because of the other duties I have to the Grid, but Ram can. It’s in his programming.”

“I can’t hurt him like this,” Tron murmured, sinking down to sit on the bed beside his old friend. He slumped forward, head in his hands. “What I’ve become…I can’t let him see that. Just the look on his face when he saw my scar…I don’t think I can do that to him.”

Flynn put a reassuring arm around the security program’s shoulders and squeezed lightly. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he said gently. “You’re Tron again. Not Rinzler. That’s your past, and I know how strong you are. You can do this. It won’t be easy, but you can do it. We both know Ram well enough to know that he’ll never give up on you.”

“But can he forgive me? I’ve…Flynn, I’ve…done horrible things. If I can’t even forgive myself, then how can I expect him to?”

**Scene Change**

Ram had listened enough. He pulled away from the door and sunk down into a sitting position, contemplating. What was it Tron had done that he thought Ram couldn’t forgive him for? Ram would always forgive him, didn’t he know that? Tron meant so much to him. As the Champion of the Game Grid, he’d protected his little friend and taught him everything he knew about combat. Granted, Ram wasn’t half as good as Tron was, but the things that he’d learned had kept him alive . He and Tron had nurtured their faith in the Users together, kept each other going when it seemed like the torment would never end. He trusted and admired him above all other Programs.

Tron knew all that. How could he not? So what was it that he’d done that he was so afraid of telling Ram?

Status: Edited

“Oh my User,” Ram groaned as he came to. Everything ached, his circuits sparking painfully here and there in the rebooting process. The little Program blinked, his blurry surroundings slowly solidifying into distinguishable shapes.

He realized with a jolt of panic that he had absolutely no idea where he was. The rocky terrain was completely unfamiliar. It didn't even look like the same system! He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring how his legs shook violently beneath him. He gave them an annoyed glance, irritated with his own functions. Yet instead he found himself gasping, his knees buckling with shock and bringing him back down to the ground hard.

Ram whimpered a little, forcing himself into a sitting position. He held his arms out in front of him, examining them with a mixture of fear and awe.

It looked as though he'd been completely rewritten. Instead of his usual grey with bright blue circuitry, his color scheme had changed to black with bluish-white circuitry. Even the criss-crossing patterns all over his body were different than he remembered.

Ram panicked, cradling his head in his hands. Yet even that felt wrong. Instead of the cool, hard surface of his helm, the actuary's fingers met thick, curly hair.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It was impossible, wasn't it? The only thing that could have possibly rewritten him would have had to have been--

From the back of Ram's hard drive, a memory resurfaced. The light cycles destroyed...agony throbbing through all his circuits...Flynn carrying him...the Recognizer...Flynn had done something to it...because he was...he was...

Pain flashed through the Program's head and he winced, rubbing his temples.

“Flynn's a User,” he murmured aloud, trying to make sense of his confused memories.

“Very good Ram, you're remembering quickly,” came an approving voice from behind. Ram started in surprise and turned to face the voice, blinking rapidly. An old man sat cross-legged behind the Program, wearing a kind smile behind his gray-and-white speckled beard. He looked vaguely familiar and the actuary frowned, trying to recall.

“Take it easy, man,” the stranger chuckled good-naturedly. “Don't push yourself. Take it slow. It'll all come back eventually.”

Ram was far too stubborn for that. His frown deepened and he thought hard. The voice and vernacular triggered something in his memory but he couldn't quite connect the dots just yet.

“Seriously, Ram, I mean it,” the man said, now adopting a tone of anxiety. “You've got through some serious recoding. You're not looking too good, man.”

That phrase....he knew he'd heard it before. Ram peered at the familiar stranger once more, straining to look past the beard.

“Flynn!” he exclaimed suddenly, eyes widening.

A grin stole across the User's face. “Welcome back, Ram.”

The little Program laughed, beaming at his friend. “You rewrote me?”

Flynn nodded. “I got your coding from Roy and did the best I could. I did have to adjust your programming a bit to fit the system,” he explained. “You were a little outdated. No offense, man.”

Ram took it in, nodding slowly. He ran a hand through his curls, feeling the alien-ness of it. Judging by Flynn's appearance, Ram had been gone for a long time. His last few memories resurfaced again and he winced.

“I derezzed, huh?” he asked softly.

Flynn's grin disappeared and he nodded soberly. “Ages ago,” he replied in an equally soft voice.

Ram swallowed. “Uh, how long, exactly?”

The User did some quick math in his head. Ram had been gone for seven years before Flynn found himself trapped by his own creation. Then there was the conversion from years into cycles. “Fourteen hundred cycles,” he answered finally. “Roughly.”

“Oh User,” the actuary breathed softly. Fourteen hundred cycles...That was an incredibly long time. He could hardly calculate that. It was much longer than he'd even lived.

“A lot of things have changed, Ram,” Flynn said gently, reaching out to take the little Program by the shoulders. “But just remember that Tron and I will always be your friends. We've got a lot of influence in this system. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, okay?” He squeezed the other's shoulders and smiled kindly at him.

Ram was clearly having difficulty with this, but he smiled all the same, or at least attempted to. One part of what Flynn said greatly attracted his attention and he chose to address that.

“Can...can I see Tron?” he asked hesitantly.

Flynn smiled in understanding and nodded. Tron and Ram had been close when he'd fallen into the Games with them. No doubt Tron was as eager to see his old friend as Ram was. He stood and offered the actuary a hand up.

“You need some time to recharge and rest. I'll take you back to my place and maybe Tron will stop by, alright? I don't want to have you exerting yourself too much too early.”

Ram took the proffered hand, pulling himself up. He nodded and stood, his legs shaking slightly beneath him. The User caught him under the elbow, keeping a hand there as a support, should Ram's strength fail him again.

“This is a new system entirely?” Ram asked, looking around curiously as he stumbled along beside Flynn.

“Mostly,” came the reply. “After everything with the MCP, I figured I may as well rebuild the system to help it recover more quickly. So, I took some of the basic coding from the old system and created the Grid. A few of the more important Programs from the old system were adjusted to function in a more effective way so the whole thing could advance and work out properly.”

Ram blinked in some surprise. The User had obviously grown out of being the clumsy, hyperactive person he'd remembered. He was older, of course, and more mature, more serious. Less playful. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing remained to be seen.

“If anyone had told me that you would go so far as to do that when I first met you...” he laughed.

Flynn grinned, a remnant of that attitude Ram knew reappearing. “I know.”

“You've changed a lot, Flynn,” the Program commented.

The User's smile faded slightly. “I suppose I have,” he replied more seriously. “We all have.”


**Scene Change**


By the time they made it to Flynn's main residence, someone was already waiting there. Two someones, actually, both curled comfortably against each other in one of the couches. A dark haired girl unfolded herself from the couch and stood, gently shrugging off the arm of the man beside her. Ram's attention was instantly drawn to the shimmering mark on a her arm. It was an unusual pattern, different from anything he'd ever seen before, and it pulsed with an odd bluish light. She caught his glance, her pale eyes focusing in on him and watching him curiously.

“Sam, Quorra.” Flynn smiled at the two, throwing an arm around Ram's shoulders and gently nudging him forward to approach the visitors. “Meet Ram. We were in the Games together back in the old system.”

The girl smiled suddenly, her face lighting up as she stepped forward and held out a hand to the newly rebooted Program. “I'm Quorra,” she said with a cooked grin. “I'm an ISO. Flynn took care of me for a thousand cycles.”

Ram grinned and took the proffered hand. Quorra's grip was firm and strong despite her small, slim fingers. It wasn't hard for him to recognize that look in her. He'd seen it plenty in the Games. This girl was all too familiar with combat, combat she'd been forced into. “Nice to meetcha,” Ram replied brightly.

“And you,” she replied, smiling. She shot her companion a Look and he got up from the couch with slight reluctance, offering Ram a sheepish grin.

“Sam Flynn,” he said by way of introduction. “User. Flynn's my dad.”

The actuary's grin widened. “A User! It's an honor.”

Sam shrugged and didn't reply, sharing a quick smile with Quorra. Flynn clapped Ram on the shoulder and released him, giving him a little push towards the seat that Sam and Quorra had just vacated. “Sit down and make yourself at home, Ram. I have a feeling these two came here for a reason.”

The younger Flynn nodded and launched into it right away. “ENCOM wants you at the gala. The Board Chairman,” he smirked, “thought it would be a good idea. No one knows you're alive yet, and he figured that stocks would go way up when you make your appearance.”

Flynn smiled wryly. “Oh, Alan thinks that, does he? Have you introduced Quorra to the public yet?”

The ISO shifted uncomfortably. “I'm no good with crowds just yet,” she admitted. “I spent too much of my time avoiding them. And honestly people don't have any reason to believe I am what I say I am.” She hesitated for a moment. “But if you introduce me, not at the gala, but later, then maybe it would work better.”

“Sounding like a User already, Q,” Flynn commented approvingly. Quorra beamed. “Well, I don't know,” he continued thoughtfully. “Those are great ideas, but give your old man a little time to think about it, alright?”

Sam grinned. “About that...Alan's already promised the board something amazing this year. He's been telling them that this gala will bring the spirit of Kevin Flynn back into ENCOM beyond anything we've seen since the eighties.”

“It's your company, Flynn,” Quorra tacked on helpfully. “We need your help.”

The older man chuckled, smiling fondly at the couple before him. “Your company now, kiddo,” he told Sam. “But since you two are so insistent...I suppose I'll make a cameo at the gala.”

“Great,” replied Sam, clearly pleased. “Thanks Dad.”

“Sure. Now why don't you two run back home and let Alan know I'll be around?”

The ISO hesitated. “There was something I've been wanting to ask you,” she began, looking up at her mentor from beneath dark lashes.

“What's up, Q?”

“Sam said he'd buy me a motorcycle if you said that it was okay,” she said in a rush. “I know, here I can drive or fly just about whatever I want, but not out there. Sam has his Ducati and I just thought I could use one of my own or when I'm not with him, and you know how good I am when it comes to vehicles of any sort--”

“Hey, slow down, man!” Flynn interrupted, laughing. “That's fine by me, just be careful.”

Quorra clapped her hands together excitedly and hugged her mentor tightly. “Thank you Flynn!”

Sam rolled his eyes at her slightly exaggerated response and tucked her under his arm after she released his father.

“Alright, we'll get out of your hair now,” Sam said loudly. “Alan wants all of us at his place for dinner some time, if you feel like dropping by.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Flynn agreed. “I've got a few more Programs to rewrite and get them settled before I can. I was thinking once I get enough Security Programs running that I'd take Tron out with me.”

The ISO raised a dubious eyebrow. “You think he's ready for that? After everything that's happened?”

“Well, having Ram around ought to help him. Those two were tight, man. They fought together in the Games ages before I showed up.” They all glanced over at the little actuary, who'd clearly dozed off, his head slumped onto his chest. Flynn smiled slightly. “Okay, you two, watch out for each other. I've got this guy I need to take care of.”

“See you around, Dad.”

“Bye, Flynn.” Quorra stretched up on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek and he chuckled, ruffling her short hair. She smiled brightly at him and turned to leave, threading her fingers through Sam's and waving with her free hand. Flynn turned back to face his new ward.

“Never have kids,” he told the sleeping Program with a small smile. “They figure out exactly how to get to you.”

He sat down beside Ram and put a hand on his cheek. The actuary stirred, stifling a yawn as he blinked sleepily at the User.

“Ooops, sorry Flynn,” he apologized, stretching a bit. “I only meant to close my eyes and I guess I just powered down by accident.”

“Don't apologize, man. You need your rest. I just thought you'd be more comfortable on the bed.”

“Bed?” Ram lit up visibly. He hadn't seen a bed since before his time in the Games. For over 200 millicycles he'd had to make do with sleeping on the ground, which usually left him achy and sore when he rebooted.

Flynn chuckled at his old friend's reaction. “There's two extra rooms. You can user one for as long as you like until you're ready to find your own place.”

“Thank you!” the Program exclaimed sincerely, more than a little excited about the thought of a bed.

“Come on.” The User smiled kindly and took Ram's forearm to pull him up. The smaller of the two teetered a bit before finding his feet and grinned sheepishly. He really needed to recharge.

Flynn made sure to keep a supporting arm around Ram's shoulders as he guided him gently into the room that had once been Quorra's. It was clean and tidy, the main feature being the medium sized bed against the wall and the small lamp beside it. Directly across from the bed was the long rectangular window that looked out on the small area that served as a backyard, the pool of shimmering energy casting a frail shaky glow on the window. Beside that was the oval shaped mirror and pure white dresser.

All Ram really noticed was the neatly made bed, so warm and inviting. He collapsed into it with a happy little sigh, curling up on it and promptly shutting down. The last coherent thoughts running through his CPU were of Tron.

Prefaced by this and this

Continued over here

Characters in this log: Zuse (creepyguitar) and Ram (religiousnut).




Zuse had gotten very good over his many cycles at recognizing a Program in need. While most of them had different ways of dealing with it, there were really only several ways a Program would react, and to the practiced eye, it was easy to spot.

He had no trouble at all identifying this one. He fell into that category of Programs that were just obvious. That shy, hesitant demeanor, like he'd rather be anywhere than here, gave him the look of one that had lost a great deal in a short time.

Too many Programs were coming to him looking like that nowadays. Zuse was no miracle worker. He was far from it. He was simply very well informed.

Sliding easily into his guise of Castor, the End of Line host assumed his position behind the bar and smiled brightly at the lost Program.

Ram glanced around the lighted club nervously. He could hardly believe he was doing this. Crowds tended to make him shy and uncomfortable, but there were more important things to worry about aside from focusing on his own anxiety. It was his job as a friend and simply as Program that cared to do this for Tron. He just had to remember that getting Tron back was what was important right now. Ram took in a deep breath, his eyes eventually coming to rest on the bartender. He seemed friendly enough, and Quorra had told him that this was the best place to go for help. With a little more confidence, he approached the bar.

The poor Program didn't belong here at all, Castor thought with some amusement. With a smile that didn't quite meet his pale eyes, he greeted the newcomer.

“Welcome, welcome! How can I serve you?” he exclaimed warmly.

Ram returned the smile hesitantly. “Uh, actually, I'm looking for someone.” He faltered for a moment before continuing. “I was told that I could find Zuse here.”

“Mmm, yes, most cycles you can,” came the ambiguous reply. The barkeep smiled wryly. “I'm afraid no one can see Zuse without going through me first. You understand, of cousre, that he is an incredibly busy Program. In rather high demand as of late.”

The Actuarial Program nodded slowly, biting his lip. “What do I need to do?” he asked resignedly. He was willing to sacrifice just about anything to get the help that Tron so desperately needed.

Castor beamed. “Ah, humility. What a rare character flaw. Care to identify yourself?”

“Ram,” the other replied with a bite of impatience. “Actuarial Program.”

“Really? How fascinating! Your kind are so uncommon these days. I'm Castor, at your service. Your host,” he made a sweeping, flamboyant bow before stepping out from behind the bar and clasping both hands around a decorative cane. “Why don't you come with me and I'll see what I can do for you?”

Without waiting for a reply, he strode off carelessly through the club. Programs parted to allow him to pass and he smiled brightly in thanks. He seemed to know everyone there individually, calling them all by name and chatting briefly with a few of them here and there.

Castor caught one particularly attractive Program under the elbow and beamed at her. “Ah, Gem, darling, do keep an eye on things for me, won't you? I have some business to attend to.”

Gem nodded and smiled coyly at him from under her thick lashes. “Of course,” she purred, a robot-like undertone to her voice. She eyed Ram with interest, running her hands down her slim and curvy frame. If he could have blushed, he would have, instead giving her a small embarrassed smile.

A flight of illuminated stairs descended from the roof and Ram blinked, watching with some fascination. Even before the MCP trapped him in the Games, he'd stayed away from the city and large numbers of other Programs. He'd been a little more sheltered, which was why he'd stayed so innocent for so long. Not to mention the Grid had been an entirely different place when he'd known it. It had been much smaller then, and Programs had been kinder, for the most part.

Ram was interrupted from his thoughts by the tapping of Castor's cane on the stairs and he followed quickly. It seemed he was all sorts of awkward this microcycle.

“This is my personal lounge,” Castor explained, twirling his cane absently. He was very interested to hear what Ram requested. Clearly he must want it badly if he had brought himself to a place that he was noticeably unfamiliar with. “It's where I have my more private conferences with individual Programs.”

At a gesture from Castor's cane, Ram sat down on the cushy couch and looked around, taking in the tasteful surroundings with wide eyes. “It's very nice,” he murmured, struck by the richness of it all.

“Yes it is, isn't it? I pride myself on my designing,” Castor replied loftily. “And my drinks,” he added as an afterthought, already mixing up two of them.

Ram was starting to get rather frustrated. “Can you help me or not? This is really kinda important and I need to speak to Zuse.”

The barkeep chuckled good-naturedly. “All good things come to those who wait,” he said in a sing-song voice. He offered the Actuary a drink before sitting down across from him with his own. “Now, what can I do for you?” He crossed one leg over the other and smirked in a self-satisfied way, waiting.

Ram was confused at first. Castor knew exactly what Ram had been asking for. He'd repeated it several times now. He opened his mouth to tell him so, and how he had half a mind to just leave and look somewhere else for help. The words were almost out when it hit him and he blinked.

“You're Zuse?” he asked in some surprise.

This was Zuse's favorite part, watching their faces when they figured it out. He grinned and raised his glass. This mask of Castor really did wonders for his ego.

“The one and only,” came the smug reply. “I had to reinvent myself after the Purge, for the mutual benefit of everyone. I'm sure you understand.”

Ram's nod was rather hesitant. Was this really the wise and clever Zuse Quorra had told him to look for? He just seemed incredibly spoiled and narcissistic. Ram had his doubts of how much help he could gain from this eccentric Program.

“Guess so,” he replied with a shrug. There was another moment's pause before he launched into his reason for coming. “I need help. For my friend, I mean. He needs help.”

“How noble of you,” Zuse commented dryly. “Do continue.”

Zuse's dryness was only serving to discourage the Actuary further. He took a sip of his drink and felt the energy course through his circuits. A faint smile crossed his lips as the sensation took him back momentarily to a happier time. The recollection of being with his best friends encouraged him to continue. He had to do this, no matter how foolish or painful it seemed. He had to do something, and this was his best shot.

“He's been repurposed,” Ram stared to explain, his voice stronger than before, though the words caused him pain. “It's been really hard on him, to say the least. Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“Ooooooh! I knew this was going to be something exciting!” the other Program gushed enthusiastically. “I could practically taste it! Mmmm, yes, this is just the sort of challenge I've been needing!”

Zuse continued on in this vein or some time. Ram let him go for a few nanocycles until his impatience started to bubble up again. Tron didn't have the time for these insignificant delays and Ram was itching to get his best friend back as quickly as possible.

“Can you help or not?!” he interrupted loudly, cutting off the exciteable Program.

Zuse blinked, temporarily taken aback. No one had ever yelled at him like that. Well, maybe Quorra had, but that was cycles and cycles ago and she'd been playful about it. He recovered quickly, his smile reappearing.

“Oh, certainly,” he replied smoothly, spinning the little decorative umbrella in his drink. “But not right away. I can sort through the system's files and attempt to dig something up for you, but as I am unfamilliar with the subject, I can't guarantee that there even is something in Flynn's files that will help.”

Ram made a soft despairing sound and choked down half of his drink moodily.

“Oh, don't you fret,” Zuse chuckled. “Doubtless I can do something. I am rather clever, after all.”

“You think you can come up with a solution on your own?” Ram asked doubtfully. Was Zuse actually suggesting he knew more than the Users, because that's what it sounded like to him.

The barkeep stood, easily putting away his drink in one dainty swig and setting the glass down on the counter. He smirked, positively oozing with confidence.

“Creativity is in my programming,” he assured Ram. “Come back in a cycle or two. I'll be sure to have some ideas for your friend.”

The Actuarial Program stood as well, the beginnings of hope curving his lips upwards. His conference with Zuse was obviously over and the horrible desperation that had been suffocating him since learning the full extent of Tron's condition had lessened somewhat.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Of course,” Zuse replied, draping an arm loosely around the other Program's shoulders and guiding him out of the lounge. He stopped suddenly and glanced sideways at Ram. “Oh, and I shall most likely need to know...What exactly has your friend's programming changed into?”

Ram's smile faded. “He's a Black Guard now,” he murmured softly.

“Oooh, bad luck!” commented Zuse brightly.

They stepped back out into the main area of the club, the noise almost deafening after the silence of Zuse's private lounge.

“Until next time,” the barkeep said loudly, releasing him. Without waiting for an answer, he strode off into the mass of Programs and melted from view, leaving a considerably more cheerful Ram alone. He couldn't wait to tell Tron the good news.

This is the saddest, most heartbreaking thread in the world. :CCCCCC