Shadow of Doubt

It had started out subtle enough. Every now and then Quorra would play with the chain about Sam's neck - which contained, in essence, the last remaining piece of his father - as he held her in his arms. Or she would be the one to remind him to take it off when he was going to shower or be in any other position that would clearly be less than ideal for the longevity of the chip. However, Sam began to notice a change in Quorra over time. He would sometimes catch her staring at the chip as it hung around his neck, a strange and faraway look in her eyes. Other times she would tell him to take it off just to be on the safe side even if there was no real reason for concern. Quorra had even gone so far as suggesting as casually as possible that they lock it away somewhere for safekeeping.

"Something as important as that needs to be enshrined and preserved," she had said with conviction that sent a shiver down Sam's spine. It wasn't that he disagreed with her assessment. His father's memory did deserve to be enshrined and preserved. It was merely the sound of her voice as she said it. He thought he could detect an eerie pleading in her tone in spite of her merely suggesting the idea and not actually asking him outright.

Sam wondered what it was that had possessed the ISO. He couldn't be sure, but it felt to him as though she were teetering toward obsession. It wasn't until the chip went missing one night from his nightstand that he finally became concerned. Something wasn't right. He was certain Quorra had something to do with it. But why? A million thoughts began to race around in his mind, as though he himself were a computer attempting to calculate a lengthy algorithm.

The first, most obvious and possibly most logical, explanation that occurred to Sam was that she missed Kevin Flynn. However, Sam missed his father too, but he wasn't obsessed with the chip. Sure, he liked to wear it so maybe he was in his own way obsessed, but he often didn't give a second thought to the chain about his neck. He even sometimes forgot when it was there. He then wondered if it was because she had been with the amazing Kevin Flynn longer than Sam had been privileged to be. Cycles were longer than years which meant she had spent even more time with him than Sam would have been able to had his father been in his life. He loved his father, still longed for the relationship they were robbed of, but she had every right to mourn his loss as well. Kevin Flynn had been her savior after all.

And that's when a much more thought-provoking notion occurred to Sam Flynn. Had he taken for granted the sort of feelings that had existed between his father and Quorra? The question began to consume him until he felt his own obsession with the chip growing. He had to find it. He had to make Quorra explain to him exactly what was going on. Sam decided there would be no peace between them until everything was at last out in the open.

Of course, he was a reasonably calm man. He was aggressive at times, stubborn and determined to do things his way, but he had a way of keeping his cool - more so now that he had known his father for a brief time. Sam was sure he could bring up the topic with relative ease and hear her out first. Which is why he wasn't expecting to blurt: "Did you love him?" one night as he was tinkering on his father's Ducati and Quorra was curled up on the couch reading Jules Verne for the millionth time.

He sat up straight as he asked the question, finally unable to hold it in any longer. Quorra closed the book with an awkward expression on her face as she repeated the question inaudibly. "What do you mean, Sam?"

Sam suddenly felt that calm reserve he'd been crediting himself with begin to dissipate. Now all he wanted was answers and he wanted them fast. He looked down at the tool in his hand for a moment, trying to gather himself, before looking at her square in the eyes. "Did you love him?" he repeated. "Did you love Flynn...did you love my father?"

Quorra batted her eyelashes for a moment, tilting her head slightly as if pondering. "Of course I did," she answered after what felt like an eternity. However, it wasn't quite the answer Sam had been expecting. Then again, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't a to the point admission. He set down the tool and brought his hands to his face in slight exasperation. He wasn't quite sure where the conversation should go from here. He heard her make a small noise, as though she wanted to say something else. Sam let his hands fall from his face and sure enough she looked as though she were once again contemplating something. "But, Sam, you mean a different kind of love, don't you?"

Her statement absolutely floored him as he shot to his feet. "And what kind of love did you assume I meant?" It was difficult for his voice to sound raised even when he was agitated.

"The kind of love you had for him," she answered and Sam inwardly kicked himself for not realizing she might have thought he meant that. "Your father was a wonderful man. He took me in, protected me, learned the art of patience so as not to do anything that could lead to my destruction."

Unlike me, Sam immediately remembered how his reckless behavior had led to Quorra's harm. "You were his miracle," Sam looked at her, marveling at how the world could be changed through her if only he understood fully what his father had known about her potential. "He would have done anything to protect you." He recalled the way his father had gushed over her as he fixed her arm and felt uneasiness settle over him once more. "Quorra, where's the chip?" Sam couldn't explain it, but he suddenly wasn't satisfied with her answer.

"I..." she looked like a deer in headlights. Quorra was genuine in everything she said or felt. Perhaps she could even be labeled naive. Thus, she struggled to mask her emotions. She looked as though a kid caught with its hand in the cookie jar and Sam knew it was because she was guilty. He could also see her struggle over how to respond. She was imperfect, but lying and stealing still didn't seem to become her. "I hid it," she finally answered, dropping her head as she did. "I didn't mean to," she wore her vulnerability on her sleeve and Sam was certain he'd never seen her so at a loss. Even when his father was sacrificing himself on their behalf, she had generally accepted that it was what he wanted. "I just couldn't look at it anymore. I couldn't bear it, Sam. I don't know how to explain, but it was like a shadow, a shadow of confusion I couldn't escape. I just..." her voice cracked and a few tears ran down her cheeks.

Sam quickly moved to sit next to her. "I miss him too, Quorra. I...I know it's hard, but it's like you said before. It's what he wanted. We have to remember that," he placed an arm around her shoulder but was surprised at how she suddenly went limp to his touch. "What's wrong?" Sam removed his arm and looked at her. He hoped to God he hadn't offended her to the point of pushing her away.

"Sam, I..." she bit her lip and looked away for a moment."I don't know how I loved him," the confession seemed to rattle the entire room as she turned her body from him completely in disgrace.

Sam took a deep breath as he grappled with what this meant for him, for them. "You mean..." he let his sentence trail, hoping she would fill in the blanks for him.

"I don't know," she turned back to face him again. She attempted to put her emotions into words. "On the grid, your father was my...constant," she began hesitantly. "He was the reason I survived. Although he often told me I was one of the reasons he chose to survive," she glanced at nothing in particular as she recalled her life with Kevin Flynn. "I loved him deeply for his dedication to me. He was like a master or a teacher, the way he taught me of this world...the world he told me over and over I was destined to change. I believed him. I admired him. And by extension, I admired and trusted you, Sam, when you arrived." She paused to gather more thoughts. Sam thought about what she had said so far, realizing how it made sense now why she hadn't seemed all that physically attracted to him in spite of her willingness to sacrifice for him. "I only understood love in its purest form, Sam," her voice invaded his thoughts. "I bound myself to your father, willing to love him for an eternity of cycles, but it wasn't..."

"It wasn't romance?" Sam wasn't sure if it was a question or a sincere wish.

She sighed deeply. "What is romance?" She looked at him, as though daring him to come up with a suitable explanation of the word. "In my short time here, it seems harder to describe than the sun. It wasn't until I came here that I understood my attraction to you more fully. Suddenly, there were senses and thoughts and possibilities that books had failed to give me. I could feel, Sam," she laughed giddily and he couldn't help but smile at her innocence. "But...feelings..." her mood fell a little as she struggled now to continue.

"But feelings have a way of making things difficult," he gave a sort of bemused chucked in spite of himself. He knew it all too well. He'd struggled with how to handle his own emotions for years upon years.

"Oh they're wonderful," she wanted him to realize she wouldn't trade feeling and experiencing his world for anything. "But they are confusing. More confusing than emotions were on the grid. I don't know what happened, but I started thinking about your father a lot." Sam became noticeably tenser, but let her continue. "When I would see his chip around your neck, I would remember his smile or his patience or something else about him. Sometimes it was just a simple memory of us together. But then I would look up at your face and remember how amazing you are and that you're right here in front of me...like my own miracle." She reached out to touch his face and to both of their surprise, he didn't flinch beneath her hand. "But..." she let her hand fall."The feelings started getting stronger. More frequent. And your necklace, the chip, it was taunting me. I thought maybe if I didn't have to look at it anymore, I wouldn't be so confused. Maybe I wouldn't be plagued with the question I didn't dare ask."

There was a long silence, only the low hum of the outdoors penetrating the walls and filling the space. "What question?" Sam finally burst the thick bubble that surrounded them. "I have to know, Quorra."

"But you've already asked it for me, Sam," she responded, the expression on her face was not one he would easily forget. "Did I love him?"

The End

Author's Note - Yes, an A/N after and not before. Not sure where this idea came from. I watched TRON: Legacy for the first time a few days ago and this little plot bunny decided to eat my brain until I unleashed it. It's not the best written thing and I don't even really know if it's accurate - since I've not ever really been into the fandom and the movie wasn't the easiest to follow at parts compared to the first one (sorry, yes, I am a poser or something, I realize this). But I tried my best. So if it sucks and you feel the need to flame, go for it. Let it be known that I do ship Sam/Quorra first, but the thought of Flynn/Quorra just seriously fascinates me for some reason. BTW, this story is meant to be sort of an in the balance leave you guessing type thing. So it's marked complete for now. But I'm sporadic and that could easily change if I feel like exploring this particular plot further.

ETA: I realized too late that I was mistakenly referring to Sam's necklace as a chip instead of a flash drive. Not sure what came over me since I'm much more tech savvy than that. My apologies...but I'm also too lazy to go through and edit out every instance of the mistake.

Disclaimer: If you think I own TRON in any part or portion, I would not be writing fanfiction...well, maybe that's not true, but I don't own TRON okay thanks.