FOUR

Alan had some reservations about going to the End of Line. He'd never been the partying kind, but at the same time he was intensely curious about the place.

A club. For programs. Who would've thought?

There really was no choice.

Alan gazed at the view in awe as he and Tron took the elevator to the top of the building housing the End of Line. The Grid looked magnificent from these dizzy heights - the precise sharp lines, the colours, and higher up the strange sky, permanently covered with clouds. Had it ever rained here?

When they finally reached the top of the tower and entered the club, Alan looked around curiously. He supposed it looked just like any other club back in his own world, only more... glowy. Tron led him past the area where programs lounged on low sofas and sipped drinks glimmering with unnatural colours, and past the darkened dance floor that made the bright circuitry of the programs, swaying to the music coming from the sound system, stand out even more than usual.

They stopped by the bar. Tron nodded his greeting to the program standing behind the counter.

"The usual times two, Shaddox," he said with a small smile.

The barman - Shaddox - took a good look at Alan and a corner of his mouth twitched in a smile of his own. He looked questioningly at the security program.

"This is my User. Alan_1."

Flynn's frequent visits to the Grid lessened somewhat the impact the news about a User in the system would normally have, but Shaddox's respect was still evident.

"Greetings, Alan_1."

Alan smiled, inclining his head, and took the proffered glass that contained some brightly coloured liquid. He gave it a dubious look and then glanced at Tron.

"Distilled energy," the program explained. "Try it."

Alan took a tentative sip. He expected the tang of alcohol, but to his surprise, it wasn't there and instead the drink had a pleasant refreshing taste. It also tingled slightly in Alan's mouth, almost like fizzy water or champagne. He took another sip, feeling the energy spread through him.

"Nice," he sighed.

He was about to turn around to take a look at the rest of the club, when he felt a hand descend on his shoulder and a voice tickling his ear.

"Well well well, isn't this a lovely surprise?"

Alan blinked at the program that immediately seated himself between him and Tron. Which was a little overfamiliar for Alan's taste. He moved slightly away so that the program had more room and didn't have to be pressed against him so tightly. It didn't make the slightest difference.

"Hello, Zuse." There was definite amusement in Tron's voice.

Ah, so this was Zuse. Somehow Alan didn't quite expect all this... eccentricity. And a British accent to boot. He wondered briefly if the program was perhaps Gem's brother (or whatever the equivalent was called when it came down to programs). Zuse's outfit, the white of his hair and his pale, porcelain complexion made him look similarly enough, but then Alan remembered the Sirens were written by Flynn. Somehow he doubted that was the case with Zuse. He seemed to be something entirely different.

"Dear me," Zuse meanwhile glanced over at Tron, "I have heard the rumours, but seeing really is believing. The fearless protector of the Grid with his precious User."

Zuse's gaze drifted back to Alan and the program stared at the user as if he was about to swallow him with his eyes.

Alan tried to resist the urge to squirm, especially as he finally noticed Zuse's hand had glided down from his shoulder to rest snugly in the crook of Alan's elbow - the touch sly and rather intimate. Alan darted a glance at Tron and caught him frowning slightly at Zuse and his greedy stare.

He took a sip of his drink. Then he cleared his throat. "Well..."

"Oh, and he speaks too." Zuse's grin was nearly blinding up close.

Alan instinctively jerked back, when he suddenly found himself nose to nose with the program.

Tron sighed.

"Zuse, don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked, his tone suggesting Zuse had indeed better have somewhere else to be.

"Relax, pretty." Zuse patted Tron's hand and directed his grin at him.

The endearment caused Alan's raised eyebrow to nearly disappear into his hairline.

"I'm just being a good host, making sure my guests enjoy themselves. Another drink?" The program's eyes danced with mirth.

Alan finally decided to speak up and say more than one word this time.

"Thanks, but we're all right." He slid closer to Tron as Zuse stepped back from the bar.

"Mhm, I'm sure you are." Zuse looked at the pair speculatively, smirking a little. "Nevertheless, allow me this small indulgence. Shaddox," Zuse addressed the barman, "be so kind and pour our guests another round. Only the best." He winked.

With the words "Have fun, my dears." Zuse disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.

"That was... odd," Alan said after a pause during which he and Tron were served their drinks. These ones had a tint of green and there was a small umbrella in each glass.

Tron nodded. "Zuse is unique."

Alan couldn't help but think that whoever wrote Zuse was pretty hard to miss himself. And probably didn't work for Encom. He was reasonably sure he would've remembered meeting someone who was a cross between Ziggy Stardust and Frank-N-Furter. Alan shook his head to get rid of the image.

He finished his drink and frowned at the umbrella in the one Zuse ordered for them. Ah, what the hell; he took a sip and half-turned so that he could watch the dance floor.

The sight wasn't much different from what could be seen in a normal club on any Friday night. Not that Alan had any great experience with weekend clubbing, but programs looked enough like people and they were having fun and Alan was pretty sure that back in the real world things would look more or less the same.

The music filling the club was some modern electronic thing. Alan supposed it only made sense. He unconsciously bobbed his head to the rhythm, feeling the bass notes thrum gently in his bones. Even though the music wasn't especially loud, it seemed to permeate the very air.

Or maybe it was the drink talking. Alan glanced suspiciously at his glass, wondering just how much alcohol was in it. Didn't taste like he could get a hangover from it, but that didn't mean anything. Eventually, though, he shrugged and deciding to live a little, took another swallow.

"Do you want to dance?"

Alan nearly sprayed his drink out through his nose, hearing Tron's question.

"What?" he managed between coughs.

Tron looked at him worried. "I asked if you wanted to dance."

He moved closer and pounded Alan on the back helpfully. "Are you all right?"

"Sure, fine," Alan rasped, catching Tron's arm and bringing it to his side. Any more of Tron's help and he was sure he was gonna have his lungs pounded right out of him.

"Isn't it something Users do as well? Dancing, I mean." Tron still had that worried look, now tinged with fear that despite the rapport they shared, he somehow managed to offend his user after all.

"No, we do dance." Alan grimaced slightly, seeing Tron's face brighten up at his words.

"It's just that men don't dance with other men." Alan looked pointedly at his program, but all he got in return was a puzzled frown.

"Why not?"

Alan coughed once, glanced to the side and decided he didn't feel like explaining social taboos today. "I have no idea."

He cleared his throat and took a gulp of his drink. Then he sneaked a look at the dance floor. Maybe it was the music - the melody winding around him and persuasive - maybe there was alcohol in his drink, but Alan realised dancing, even with his obviously male program, wasn't perhaps such a bad idea. He could certainly try.

Tron was still trying to decode the whole not-dancing-with-men issue, when Alan decided to stop overthinking this so much and just 'go with the flow'. He had definitely been spending too much time around Flynn.

"I'd like to dance, though."

"Really?" Tron grinned and at Alan's answering nod, didn't waste more time, grabbing Alan's hand instead. "Come on then."

Once on the dance floor, Tron released his user and began to gently sway to the pulsating rhythm. Alan would have never suspected himself of such grace, but looking at his program moving so sensuously, he thought that maybe he himself didn't look like a total dork while dancing after all.

Nah, he probably did. Tron was athletic, sinfully agile and fought like a dream - unlike Alan himself - but, ah, who cared anyway? Alan let the music take over, still glancing at his program from time to time.

The dance floor was pretty crowded. The programs brushed against Alan and each time someone touched his circuits, accidentally or not, he felt an electric spark. The sensation was stronger when it was his own program touching him, but still, it was sort of nice.

Tron half-turned away from Alan to speak to a female program dancing at his side, and Alan's eyes fell to the two small circles of light low on Tron's back. They stood out - bright blue on the black of the program's armour - and Alan suddenly wanted to touch them. He reached out and traced one circle with his fingertips. It glowed brighter and Alan pressed his hand flat against it, completely covering the node. It pulsed warmly under his palm and he moved even closer to Tron, drawn by the twinkling blue of the other circle. Before he could touch it, though, his wrist was caught in a firm grip and the little warm circuit was gone from under his other hand as Tron faced him again.

"I don't think it's a good idea to do it here, Alan_1."

They stood still now, only centimetres apart and Tron looked like he was smirking. Subtly, but it was there.

"No?" A note of challenge crept into Alan's voice. "Why not?"

Tron moved his hand - the one currently not busy with holding Alan's wrist - down over his user's back to press and rub against one of the circles on Alan's own suit. Alan sucked in a sharp breath and arched against Tron, the momentary pulse of violet lighting up his circuitry definitely not unnoticed by his program.

"That's why." Tron was definitely smirking now.

He leant closer to Alan's ear. "But we could take it somewhere else, if you want."

Alan was unaware that his smile, meeting the playful challenge in Tron's eyes, looked downright evil.

"Lead on," he breathed into the program's ear.

Tron abruptly turned away and never releasing Alan's hand, led him towards the back of the club.

"My my, would you look at that." Sitting on one of the low couches and watching the pair depart for one of the club's private rooms, Zuse fanned himself theatrically. "I bet there will be some lovely interfacing going on tonight."

Sitting right next to Zuse, Gem only nodded distractedly, still staring in the direction of the dance floor, the light pink flush of her circuitry slowly dissipating.

Zuse stroked his cane, glancing at her, and grinned to himself. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some... private matters to attend to. Would you care to join me?"