This is a one-shot that takes place after Able's death. This involves Beck and Tron, trying to sift through their emotions. The italics are Beck's thoughts.
The cycle seemed to drag on forever. Beck wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting in the club, but he knew it was getting dangerously close to curfew. He knew he had to get up and go back to the garage...but he was stuck, it felt. He was in so much emotional turmoil that it hurt to breathe; to even move. He hadn't said much since he got here, just enough to keep asking for more drinks and to acknowledge the program who had come by to ask him if he was okay. He had given a curt nod and a mumbled "yes," to the well meaning female program who had asked. He had then given her a look he wasn't sure was polite or borderline rude, and she had left. As he sat there through that long time, his thoughts seemed to crush in on his mind, squeezing the feeling out of his body, save for the breaths that seemed to shove daggers through his sternum. One thought swam above them all.
It's all my fault.
He kept thinking that sentence, feeling the weight and severity of what had happened every passing moment. Able was dead. He was really gone, and Beck could have saved him. If he'd only gotten there sooner. Mara blamed the Renegade, and quite frankly, Beck did too. He blamed himself for what had happened, for letting Cyrus get so out of control. He was too late, and Beck would have to deal with it for the rest of his existence. Tron was trying to help, but in emotional matters, Beck knew he didn't really know how to help. Tron had told him that it wasn't his fault, but Beck didn't listen. What does you know anyway? You don't understand! He had shouted those words to his mentor, his friend. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. Of course Tron understood. He had lost a friend as well. He saw the look in Tron's eyes, on his face. The pain was evident in the way he held himself.
Beck's thoughts came back to the situation at hand as The Grid alerted the programs to the curfew. He pushed himself out of his seat, and took a deep breath. He would have to face everyone at the Garage, and he wasn't sure he could look at Mara knowing that Able could have been saved. If he told her what he was, who he was, he'd probably be derezzed by her. And he would understand. He walked out of the club, slightly dizzy from all the energy he'd drunk that night. But as he was walking, he decided on a new route for the night. He could not go back yet, he needed more time. He rezzed his bike and started for the Outlands.
When he arrived, he went inside to find Tron. He was at his usual place, monitoring the city, making sure all was well. Beck walked in, not bothering to step light as he usually did when entering the room. Tron would know he was here anyway, so what was the point on sneaking in on him? Tron turned as Beck sat in the chair, letting out a deep sigh. Tron said nothing, and that was good. All Beck needed was the presence of another program, one that knew everything, and didn't judge him.
As the silence went on, broken only by the sound of Tron sitting in the chair next to Beck, he felt a crushing weight in his core. He was broken, and there was nothing he could do to stop the tears that he felt approaching rapidly. He hunched over, hiding his face in his hands. The racking sobs shook his body, and he felt the hot tears on his hands and face. He was only slightly aware of the arm around his shoulders, comforting him. He was more aware of being pulled into a standing position and being engulfed in a strong hug. When he was done, he tried to pull away, suddenly feeling embarrassed that Tron had seen him like that. But Tron's grip remained tight, and Beck suddenly had the realisation that Tron was in as much pain as he was, if not more. Abel had been a very close friend of his, almost as old a program as Tron himself.
"I'm okay, Tron," he murmured, trying to assure his friend.
"I know," the program said, and released Beck from the hug. Beck was surprised to see that Tron's cheeks were wet as well, and his normally stone faced expression was broken. His eyes looked more tired than usual, and his mouth was not set in his usual frown. He looked… crushed, showing more emotion than Beck had ever seen.
"You can stay here tonight," Tron said, answering the question Beck was about to ask. "You know where the room is," he said as he moved towards the door. He brought a hand to his face. looking almost surprised as it came away wet with tears. He continued to walk away, but Beck caught him by the elbow before he got too far.
"Thank you," he said, and released Tron's arm. Tron looked at him, his face contorted in an effort to stay stoic.
"You'll be okay," Tron replied. "Whatever you may think, it is not your fault. There was nothing we could have done. He died for you and your friends. Able died a hero." He turned away after that, but paused at the doorway. "Get some rest, Beck." And with that, he walked out.
Beck went to his room, and sat on the bed. His thoughts seemed to consume him as soon as he was alone. He almost wished Tron hadn't left.
One thing was for sure, there was no climbing out of this dark pit of misery he had fallen into. He didn't want to go back to work and face Mara and not have Able to talk to anymore. Able, the only one besides Tron who knew he was the Renegade. Able had been the only one he could talk to about everything. Sure, Tron was his friend, but when it came to just talking, Tron fell very short in that area.
Beck decided to go into sleep mode, so his thoughts wouldn't keep him from the rest he so desperately needed. As his eyes drifted shut, he thought he saw Able, in the corner of the room. But as he fell asleep, he thought he heard Able's voice.
"Be safe."