Just like every other normal day he had spent in the last seven years, as Sam speeded down the highway, he zipped past a traffic cop laying in wait at an intersection, alerting them to his break-neck speed…in fact, it was almost like nothing had changed at all as the officer began his pursuit, lights flashing…Almost. There was that lingering feeling deep in Sam's gut that told him otherwise. The feeling that, from the moment he has stepped foot on the Grid, everything had changed. The pesky motor cop invaded Sam's side mirrors and, bored with the chase, decided to lose him by increasing his speed, ducking in and out of the oncoming traffic. Sam's proclivity towards things fast and dangerous had long been a pattern throughout his life, his preoccupation with his ducati starting with his Dad's old bike….something he had held onto over the years in a desperate attempt to keep the memory of Flynn alive. It was something they had shared, just the two of them. How does she run? He had asked Sam. Better than ever, when I am through. He had answered.

Sam still could hardly wrap his mind around the fact that his Dad had really done it…The Grid. A digital frontier. I tried to picture clusters of information as they moved through the computer. What did they look like? Ships? Motorcycles? Were the circuits like freeways? I kept dreaming of a world I could never see. Then, one day, I got in. Sam could still picture the way his father's eyes had lit up as he told a dorky seven-year-old kid story after story of his adventures with Tron, with Clu. For a moment, at this thought, Sam's eyebrows lowered, mouth turned down in a frown. What was even harder for him to comprehend was that Flynn was dead. He was gone before they ever really had a chance to get back what had already been lost. I would have given all this up, for one more day with you Sam. His throat felt suddenly dry, as he gulped in a breath of air and tried to push away the moisture threatening to spill over his eyes.

As Sam drove his motorcycle onto the docks, the sound of the water lapping against the concrete vaguely reminded him of the sound the Sea of Simulation made as enemy programs had crashed beneath its waves. Although the light-jet battle had been brief, it jarred him to think of how real the Grid still seemed to him now, how real the water had looked, how real the pain in his hand was as he slammed his knuckles into Clu's face….how real the terror had been as he had been forced to let go of his father for the second time in his life. It's time, Sam. The gravel beneath his bike's tires crunched, a sound he had strangely missed when he had been away, as the abandoned repair garage that he called home loomed up in front of him. Sam felt a slight squeeze at his waist and he almost fell off the bike, not quite remembering the weight leaning against his back…that he had someone with him now…Quorra.

She hadn't been that fazed by the screeching pace of his motorcycle…at least, not that he noticed. Then again, it didn't seem like she was fazed by much of anything. Maybe it was because of that selflessness training that she was always talking about, Sam thought, because when she had looked at him outside the arcade and asked him what was next…there had been a look of complete trust in her eyes that he couldn't fathom. He certainly hadn't done much to deserve it. While Quorra had risked herself for him again and again on the Grid, He had merely blundered his way to the portal, not really giving the consequences of his actions much thought. You've done enough, Sam! He thought bitterly. Somewhere along the way, it seemed that Quorra's allegiance to Flynn, to her Creator, had been transferred onto him….it appeared unshakable and unquestioned….and Sam didn't quite know what to do with it. No one had ever given that to him before.

It struck him that he had always felt very alone. First his mother had died, then Dad had disappeared….a flash of memory spurted in his brain…I suppose…Mom and Dad? Flynn had asked him….Yeah, Grandpa when I was twelve and Gran five years later...Even as a kid, he had been pretty solitary, mostly just messing around with the video games at the arcade and after all was said and done, no matter how many surrogate-father-outings Alan had taken him on over the years, Sam preferred it that way. Just him and his bike….and Marve. Sure, there had been some women but it was never serious, being that they were only interested in cooing over his tragic childhood and he was usually preoccupied with his annual company prank on Encom tower. Even when he was with other people…he always felt somewhat out of place.

The motorcycle skidded to a halt, the doors of the garage noisily shutting behind them, as Quorra swiftly alighted from her seat and he adjusted the kickstand. Glancing curiously around her, Sam got the chance to finally take a really good look at her….she looked…real; solid…like she could actually belong here. The blue light that had radiated from her grid suit had certainly given Quorra's face an other-worldly charm but, standing in his living room in normal clothes, and under grimy lighting, Sam realized that she hadn't lost one ounce of that charm…although the normal nonchalance in her step had seemingly been replaced with a more…careful demeanor now.

"Where are we?" She asked, appraising her surroundings with wide blue eyes, a pointed eyebrow raised. "We're just outside the city," Sam replied, getting off his bike and unzipping his leather jacket. "This building used to be a mechanic's garage, back in the day, until they built the docks and it was abandoned." Quorra just looked at him vaguely, as if she didn't really understand what he meant. "So you live here, now?" She clarified and he just nodded as she began to examine the room more thoroughly. "But, where are your books?" She exclaimed, finally, in surprise. Flynn shared his books with me. I've read them all. Now, it was Sam's turn to look vague as he tried to come up with an answer to her question and, just as he was about to try, someone else decided to make his presence known.

A sharp barking sound emanated from the corner of the makeshift apartment and Sam could feel Quorra tense up, startling so bad that her first response was to fling her right hand up like she was about to reach for her disc, her stance in attack-mode. Witnessing this strange set of events, and such an out-of-place reflex, caused Sam to let out a deep chuckle as his dog, Marve, crept out of the shadows to sit at his feet, his bug eyes staring up at Sam, his tail wagging eagerly. It took her about a second but, when she realized what she was about to do, Quorra shot him a quick look of shock and Sam swore that he could just make out an embarrassed blush cross her cheeks as she shifted closer to him. He just shook his head. That damn dog always seemed to have a way of pointing out the things that Sam usually just wanted to brush under the rug…like that fact that, despite her calm exterior, Quorra was probably going over everything in her head again and again…just like he was. Only, now, Sam was finally home…while Quorra was decidedly out of her element.

"Quorra, meet Marve." Sam gestured between the small dog and the alarmed woman beside him, making the introductions. "Marve, meet Quorra….another rescue." At this, Quorra relaxed her stance and smiled brightly at Sam, her eyes crinkling, making his stomach flip over.