Yori

He's not well—I can see it in the way he moves, even though he doesn't stop to try and talk to me. Instead, he moves to the control panel and starts opening up file after file, never finishing with any of them, as if by trying to do everything at once he can force the world back into a sense of order, as if it will make dead programs stay dead, and old code stay just that: code.

"Tron— "

He doesn't answer me. The helmet is still on, which is never a good sign. It means that there is something that he doesn't want me to see in his expression. I wish he wouldn't. I know that he must be conflicted; angry . . . Honestly, he's probably a mess. But he does that. I'm used to him retracting back into himself as if containing his pain, anger, and regret can somehow spare the rest of us the effects of it. It never does. But this . . . I don't know what to think of this. Had I not just seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it myself; there's a part of me that even now is struggling to process the visual input from a nano ago, which is intent on disproving it somehow.

He was supposed to be dead . . .

Well, dead is the term we've been using. Can something be dead that was only ever an extension of something else? I have always thought—and Tron has never corrected me— that Rinzler was more or less his own individual; that he had his own personality and his own guidelines and goals—most of which were enforced on him by Clu—that, though they had been twisted out of Tron's code, were too much a distortion to really be Tron anymore. I've always thought of him as a separate entity, albeit an entity who was like Tron in some ways, deep down, simply because he came from the same code, but I have never . . . It never occurred to me that one could exist without the other. That the files Tron is missing (mostly memory files and combat subroutines and a few of Clu's upgrades, including, of course, the filters, restrictions, and commands that held Rinzler back and forced him to cooperate) couldn't possibly be enough to create an entirely new program . . . let alone one that seems to be, well, functional.

What is he, an ISO with basic framework? Basic memories? Basic source code?

How much of Tron is still in him?

I wish I hadn't asked that question the moment I think it. It's too close to another question, one I used to ask myself a lot when Tron first returned but which—thankfully—I have had to ask less up until just now.

How much of Rinzler is there in Tron?

I shudder, suddenly overcome by the horrible sensation that I'm going to receive an answer to that question that I don't like.

Tron is still desperately trying to lose himself in the files in front of him, opening and digging through more sub-routines than our horribly overworked systems can handle. Another nano passes, and the control panel turns to static, an error warning flashing across every screen of the control center. For a moment, he just stands there and stares at it, almost shaking.

And then without warning he slams his fist down on the control panel, punching a pixelated gash into its surface. Several more warning alarms sound, turning the room to red and yellow and ringing loudly through the room.

He just stands there.

He doesn't even pick up his fist—he just leans into the panel, crunching more data under his weight, gripping the edge of it with his other hand, circuits pulsing with fury and users know what else. I step up behind him gingerly, reaching around him without touching him to silence the damage warnings.

He doesn't move. His helmet is impenetrable and black, and if he's looking at me, I can't tell.

I don't know what to say to him. He's in shock, and yet he's so angry, maybe, maybe even . . .

. . . Is Tron afraid?

I'm not sure I've ever seen him afraid of someone, so I can't say. Concerned, yes. Worried, yes. But really, truly frightened of another program? No. No, the only person he fears is—

Is himself.

He doesn't talk about it. But I know. He still keeps himself from standby with his thoughts, dwelling on what he did as Rinzler, on what he never did to stop Clu, of the ways his resistance failed, and the games. He tries never to talk about Clu's games. All he'll admit about those memories is that they are dominated by a few very specific emotions: Joy, pleasure, and liberation. Despite all the killing that they involved.

I don't know how to tell him that if he's somehow blaming himself for this, he's insane, that there was no way he could have known the sea would use Rinzler of all programs as a template for an ISO, that the sea could even still make ISOs. I don't know how to tell him that we can get this under control, that it's not too late. I don't know how to tell him that this won't be the end of us, or that I at least need him to believe it won't be. I don't know how to ease the pain he's in, because I can't even begin to understand it. I'm not sure even he does.

So I don't say anything. Instead, I stand close behind him, and run my hands along his broad shoulders. He doesn't react, so I wrap my arms around him completely, resting my cheek against the back of his shoulder and allowing my eyes to fall shut. After a moment he turns his head to look at me, and the helmet finally comes down. I almost wish it hadn't. His eyes are conflicted, full and overloading, and they look so desperate despite his hard expression. I can't look at them for long. Instead I sneak under his arm, wedging myself between him and the control panel. I take his face in my hands, and lower his head so that his forehead rests against mine.

We stay like that for what seems like a long time, and it isn't long enough.

Author's note: Chapter ten, woohoo! Thank you to all of you who have been reading, extra thanks to those of you who have been reviewing, and extra extra thanks to Cyberbutterfly and ScribeOfRED for betaing this chapter!

Also, I now have a fic (it's one chapter long now but will develop alongside this one) posted called "Meanwhile in the Real World" that follow Sam, Quorra, Lora, and Alan and the events that unfold OUTSIDE of the grid while Rinzler wreaks havoc inside of it. It will intercept with Regensis later on, and all of those characters will also show up here later, but for now you can keep up with the users' perspectives via "Meanwhile". :)

Anyway, once again, thanks for reading!

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