I was at my control panel, standing in the same place I always stood, doing the same thing that I always did.

The only thing that was different was the stillness in the room. I was alone. While it wasn't completely unheard of for me to be the only one working, (I was always working, prototyping as is my basic function,) this time there seemed to be something peculiar about the solitude and the warm silence that surrounded me. Something about it seemed almost significant.

I was lost in it, all of it: The simplicity of my own mind -so limited to what was in front of me because of Clu's handiwork- and the quiet, the satisfaction of work, and the loneliness that somehow, distantly, hurt me. Even a repurposed Yori, incapable of anything but work, knew that someone was missing.

My reverie was broken suddenly as the door opened behind me. Its quiet hiss disrupted my wholesome silence, and I looked up to see who was responsible.

It was Rinzler.

He served a variety of functions for Clu, but that he would be checking on me was, to say the least, unusual. He had been in before of course, he went everywhere, but he was always either acting as the vanguard for Clu's arrival, or trailing behind him. The fact that he was alone now was the strangest part.

What was not unusual, however, was the discomforting focus with which he watched me. That, regardless of his purpose, had always been consistent. Something about me perturbed him, for reasons I was never entirely certain he understood. In fact, I think that in itself was a part of the reasoning. At the time, though, I didn't have the capacity for such considerations. I was otherwise occupied by the typical, mind-numbing state of terror that his presence always inflicted on me. Clu had been very careful to keep that response intact.

"Sir?" I said, "may I help you?" I was improvising somewhat with the title. Nobody ever seemed to address him directly besides Clu, and if he had any kind of rational, formal title, I'd never heard it. He was just . . . there. There to be feared. To enforce. To observe. Not to be talked to.

Besides, Rinzler didn't speak anyway. I waited instead for a physical response from him, maybe that strange noise that he made when he was irritated or restless, (which, at least lately, was most of the time.) But he didn't move, nor make a sound. He simply watched me, and I stood there, unable to even blink out of fear.

Then, suddenly, he crossed the room. He strode with more purpose, more directness of movement, than I had ever seen from him. In an instant, he was there, inches away from me, looming over my head.

I backed frantically into my control panel, my fingers clamping onto its edge as if somehow it could save me from whatever it was that he was going to do. He shadowed me, using one perfect, graceful movement to match my own, never wavering an inch in his distance from me. I looked up into the awesome blackness of his helmet, sensing his scrutiny, the heat of his gaze. A shiver ran through me, a pulse of cold energy shooting through my circuits. I was holding my breath. I was utterly frozen.

And still he didn't move, didn't touch me, didn't make a sound. He simply watched, as if by sheer force of will he could make me do something. . . whatever that something was. I had the overwhelming sense that I was disappointing him, somehow.

I assumed it had to be related to work. That was, after all, the only thing that I did. It took me another nano, however, before I was finally able to choke up the words.

"Di-did y-you need to review my work, sir?"

This had the exact opposite of my intended effect. He snapped, flying forward into a kind of crouch, his hands taking up a grip of their own on my panel as he leaned into me. His helmet was perfectly level with my face now, and so close that the end of my nose was at serious risk of making contact with its cold surface. He was looking me dead in the eye, ( I could feel it,) and that noise was rolling out of him with uncontrolled fury. It throbbed in my ears, beating the air and rumbling in his chest. I could almost feel the vibrations. There was something in it I hadn't heard before. It wasn't the bloodlust or satisfaction of battle; and it wasn't the sound of his restlessness, or the dull seeping out of his innate aggression. This was direct, intentional. Like he was trying to tell me something . . .

I understood, suddenly. He was infuriated with me; infuriated with my simple mind, my endless working. He despised my response, and he wanted me to know that it was wrong. I just didn't understand why.

He snarled a moment longer, but then he did something else, even stranger than anything I'd seen so far.

A ripple of energy burst through him, more like a shock than a shiver, and the noise he was making cut out, abruptly and roughly. It was like it had been strangled out of him. His head jerked down, and to this left, and he seemed frozen there for a moment. And then he shook his head violently, as if he was desperately trying to dispel whatever was going on inside of it. Whatever he was battling was internal, but clearly hurting him. Actually, this was a program who never so much as changed his posture, so "hurting" cannot begin to explain the kind of agony he must have been experiencing in that moment. It was causing me pain just to watch.

Slowly, though, he flexed his shoulders, and lifted his head, pulling it back. His hands still seemed locked to the panel next to mine. His head rolled around on his neck till he was facing me again, chest heaving. I found myself looking dead center at his helmet once again with my fixated, terrified eyes.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he unlocked his grip, and stood up straight, abnormally straight for him, really. Still, he didn't move away from me.

Instead, he drew himself, somehow, closer, and reached up. His movement was forceful and direct, and I suspected he was battling himself to manage even this small motion. I couldn't comprehend why, though; but then, he put his hands on either side of my face.

My mind became instantly and entirely blank. I could perceive nothing outside of those hands. They were big, his palms cradling what seemed to be the whole of my jaw, but they were also fantastically gentle. His thumbs rested against my cheeks, the fabric of his uniform smooth against my skin. I could also feel his fingers pressing gently into my neck. They'd found their way under my hair, all the way to skin and fabric. I could feel the tension that was coursing through him from the constant, even force of his grip. He was trying to convey something very forceful. But he was also being remarkably delicate. The combination was instantly powerful; I hadn't been this aware of any one sensation in a long, long, time. And yet, with one touch it was all rushing back, more vivid and beautiful than I could ever have imagined it would be.

I closed my eyes, lost in the feeling, but a quick, sharp motion; a tightening and then loosening in his grip, made me open them again. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them. They were determined, passionately and relentlessly seeking something in my own gaze. He emitted a low sound.

It wasn't the growl of before. Instead, it was . . . soft. It was somehow more vocal, less animal. It wasn't really pleased, exactly, but it was at least resigned. It was really more of a purr, steady and warm, than a growl .

Thing started to change inside of me as he held me there. Seemingly natural urges to work and calculate suddenly seemed weird and excessive. Memory files began to open up and search and repair functions began self activating and running amuck in my internal system. For a moment, I felt weak. But then, it was gone. I felt clean, clarity lighting up my mind for the first time since Clu had first touched my disk. A progress bar popped up and told me that broken code was being deleted, and a moment later, it was all over.

I was me again. I was Yori.

His hands slipped from my face, and he watched me a moment longer in silence before he turned on his heel and swept towards the door. I sprinted after him.

"Wait," I said, and as I reached out for him I realized that my circuits had returned to blue. The orange had been nothing but a self inflicted mask all along.

He let me put my hand on his broad shoulder as he drew to a halt, but I could sense already that he had accomplished his goal, and that my time with this (by his usual standards) irrational form of Rinzler was coming to a close. I dropped my hand though, and looked up steadily at the helmet that shielded his face from me. I was glad that he kept it there, keeping Tron's face separated from the being that he'd become.

"Thank you," I said, and I put my fingertips against the T on his chest for just an instant. In a way, I was addressing Tron with the gesture, wherever he was inside of that mass of corrupted code that had created Rinzler.

As I lowered my hand again, though, he moved in that fluid, impossibly fast way to take both of my hands in his, instead. His grip was a little uncomfortable, but not threatening.

Not entirely sure why, I bent my elbow, and lifted his hand up to my face. Hesitantly, gently, for an immeasurable moment, I pressed my lips against it. The circuits of his fingers melted into blue.

I slipped my hand from his grip then, and turned to go. I knew that this was my only chance at escape, and that my time was running out. Still, I was saddened. For one tiny fragment of a moment, I had sensed in him everything that had made me love Tron, and I wished that I could have stayed.

I looked longingly over my shoulder as the door shut behind me, just to get one final look at him. I saw that he was standing there, frozen, staring silently and fixatedly at his blue-lit hand.

And then the door was there between us, and I was sprinting away.

He had left a baton in my hand.

I was finally free.

Author's note: As I did for chapter 19 with "Different," I wanted to tell this chapter from Rinzler's point of view. If anybody is interested, "Perfect" is now up on my author's page. As always, your critique in encouraged! I do take it seriously, and you DO help me make these stories better by reviewing!

Thanks again for reading!

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