Disclaimer: Tron and all the characters in the movie belong to Disney. I just like to play with them on occasion.
A/N: This is a slow growing Tron/Sam story. So for anyone who doesn't like slash, I suggest you don't read on. For those who are looking for PWP, you won't find that here either. Thanks for reading on if you do. :3
The circuits that race up and down the programs suit are a firework riot of flickering red and white lights when Sam finds him.
After a week of searching, the User almost gave up. Quorra hadn't been as believing in the old programs survival rates, saying the Sea of Simulation had no doubt swallowed him up or he'd been derezzed along with Clu and Flynn. She wasn't unkind, just matter of fact and sympathetic. But Sam had been stubbornly optimistic.
But finding a barely lit mess that was both Rinzler and Tron all at once made Sam wonder what he could do for his fathers once upon a time best friend. That self-doubt was a taunt though, growing in Sam's belly until it became a challenge to himself as he dragged the program out of the sea's shallows and onto the craggy shore to crouch beside the unresponsive body.
"How do I fix a program corrupted twenty years ago, huh?" He wondered out loud, looking down at his helmeted patient.
Rolling the program onto his side, Sam detached the identity disk and activated it, letting the code stream up and out like modern art in computer code, the DNA that made up each program. It should have been Alan's clean cut code and data and it was still there, intact. But the hack job done to the programs original code made Sam want to wretch. It was less a reprogramming and more like a hostile take over. It was a miracle Tron managed to break through Rinzler even for those few minutes to save them all.
Letting the disk sit on Tron's chest, the code lit up the User's face, reflecting in his eyes. Only then did Sam sigh heavily.
"Here goes."
It took hours that Sam could count and then he simply lost track of time as he slowly, carefully picked the entwined lines of code apart and tossed away the trash that had morphed the Grids champion into Clu's vicious lapdog. Sam saved what he could of Tron's original code, but some still had to be rewritten from what he'd studied from Alan's old work. Other times, Sam just had to wing it.
The behavioral department was easy to clean up, but it was Tron's memory data that made Sam pause. It was layers upon layer of blue code with red so tightly wound around it that removing it would change who Tron was too completely. As much as Sam wanted to save the program that had been his childhood hero for the past twenty years, he wasn't about to play God. Even to save Tron from his memories.
By the time Sam finished his legs ache from kneeling on the hard ground, his skin cold from Tron's wet upper body resting against his thighs. Only after he closes the disk down do Sam's fingers move from the pulse point he'd found just under the rim of the programs helmet, the steady beat had kept him company through his work. But now was the moment of truth. Sliding out from under the program, Sam reattached the disk and watched with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension as the new code uploaded.
When the last kilobyte finally settled in, the program arched, a rasping gasp reverberating through the helmet still in place. Sam moved forward quickly, putting a hand out to reassure as he'd done when Quorra rebooted. But the moment his hand touched the programs suit it lit up bright enough to make Sam squint and shield his eyes. When his vision adjusted it was very clear that something was wrong. One half of Tron's bodysuit was a blinding white, the other half a molten red.
Sam leaned forward to get a closer look, but there was no time when a hand fisted painfully in his short hair and dragged him directly towards the blurring, blinding path of an activated light disk. A murderous pair of eyes , one red, the other blue glared at Sam with clear intent to end the User in his grip. And with alarming clarity, Sam realized he hadn't named this almost composite program. What did you call a new collection of data who'd been to hell and back and still managed to help save the world?
"Tron!" Sam shouted, eyes slamming shut tight as he waited for the pain that would end him.
A few heartbeats later he could hear the disk just under his chin, but no pain followed. In fact, nothing happened and only after Sam relearned the art of breathing did he manage to crack one eye open and then the other when he saw the look of shock and disbelief on Tron's face.
"…Sam?"
The voice was rough with disuse, but it was still familiar in an eerie way. In fact, Tron looked and sounded so much like Alan the first time Sam showed up with a broken arm and a sloppy grin that it was suddenly very awkward rather then alarming.
Sam let out a rush of air he never remembered holding in. "Yeah, hi." He said with a weak grin.
How Tron knew his name was a mystery. Either it was memories from his time as Rinzler or his dad had been really chatty about his real world life.
Either way it wasn't important when, as Sam watched, the red slowly started to fade from Tron's eye and circuits. It was the same moment the security program realized he had an active light disk to the throat of Kevin Flynn's son. Tron pulled back like touching Sam burned, light disk deactivating as it hit the ground while the program stumbled to his feet. He didn't manage to maintain any semblance of balance for long.
Sam quickly shot up to his feet, two hands grasping Tron's upper arms before he could crumple to the ground and pressing his hip into the programs to keep his knees from buckling. When Tron tried to jerk back on instinct, Sam held tighter.
"Whoa! Take it easy. We're good, okay…Just, calm down for a second before you fry all the new wiring." He said with a forced little laugh, trying to assure the still discombobulated program.
Those glowing blue eyes looked at Sam wearily, but leaned against the support he was being given, hands grasping the User's shoulders to give off the illusion of balance regained. Sam didn't buy it and only loosened his grip rather then let go. Still, Tron straightened to his full, straight height with Sam as his minor crutch and the younger Flynn felt the old childhood admiration for the program flicker to life.
"Clu?" Tron asked hesitantly and if not in his stance, Sam could hear the exhaustion in that voice.
"Gone…" Sam paused for a moment and those perceptive eyes narrowed but waited silently for the User to continue. "Dad too."
Tron exhaled heavily as his eyes slid shut, grip tighter on Sam's shoulders for a moment. All the grief the program was willing to show. It was more then Sam ever expected to see. "Flynn…" Tron shook his head. "Reintegration."
It wasn't a question. Sam nodded all the same.
A long silence followed and after a moment, Sam started to feel Tron's weight pressing down on him. Readjusting, he pulled a lightcycle baton from the holster on his calf. Tron stared at it a moment.
"Think you can ride?" Sam asked with a raised brow. It sounded like a dare.
Tron gave a small snort and grabbed the baton, trying to take one confident stride forward and immediately crumpled with an undignified grunt.
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes before grabbing one of Tron's arms and slinging it over his shoulders to get the program back to his feet. Sam gave Tron a smug look.
"Happy now?"
Tron looked at him sidelong. "Yes."
Sam laughed and took the bar from Tron. "Good. But if you tip us over I'm leaving your outdated ass behind."
It got the response Sam was looking for when Tron gave a small growl and a small twitch of his mouth betrayed a restrained smile. "I'll show you outdated, Flynn." One step later, the security program winced. "Later."
Sam just shook his head and chuckled. "I think we're gonna get along just fine."
What the User tried not to focus on was the thin veins of red buried here and there in the blue circuits.
A/N: Reviews are love and keep me going. 3