"I thought I told you to be careful, Beck."

Yori enters the room with something like a joke, but her voice is far more concerned than amused.

"I thought I was being careful." Beck smirks but it's fragile, and when he meets Yori's exhausted eyes it slips away. Guilt rushes through his systems at an impressive speed, and he bows his head. "Sorry. I'm not very good at that."

"I know." A smile flickers across her face, laced with sympathy when she sees the beta's injuries. There's a deep gash on his right bicep, and his frame is littered with smaller cuts and fractures. She crosses her arms.

"Why are you hiding from the medics?"

He focuses on Yori's voice instead of looking at her, and that might be worse. Her words are stern- backed by concern, with a touch of snark.

It's all too familiar.

Beck shifts in his seat, defensive. He wonders if he can make himself smaller.

"I'm not hiding. I just didn't think I needed them. It's not that bad."

He looks up when he hears the older program huff out a sigh. Yori closes her eyes and tilts her head back, and Beck wonders if she's asking the Users for strength. When her eyes open again her cadence is softer.

"Can I take a look?"

Beck nods once, and pushes down the wave of panic he feels at someone else removing his disc (bad memories). Yori lays a hand on his undamaged arm, transmitting [calm/safe], and he tries to relax. It helps that she sits down next to him so he can see what she's doing.

"Are you a medic?" He asks, knowing full well she isn't.

"No," Yori scans through the damaged code and frowns at how much of it there is. "But I can alter code. I'm a simulations program, remember?"

She offers a small smile, but Beck doesn't meet her gaze. He remains still and silent, even when his code begins to knit back together- which means he's putting some effort into it.

"You're lucky you didn't lose your arm."

Though her tone is gentle, there's a kind of heaviness in Yori's voice. Beck can feel her watching him, and he knows that she's worried, but he also knows that she won't directly ask him what happened. That doesn't mean he shouldn't tell her, though.

"There were more soldiers than we expected," he says quietly.

Yori nods. Part of her wants to push him for more information, or lecture him for getting hurt (Users know Tron would), but she doesn't. Too many other programs came back damaged— or didn't come back at all— for Beck's injuries to be the result of simple carelessness. And, aside from his physical injuries, she can't help but notice how distant he's acting.

His smiles are faint and faltering; he can't seem to look her in the eye. His disc shows that his energy is cycling faster than normal, but he isn't showing any emotion or adrenaline, just tension. He's bottling everything up, and who does that remind her of?

"Well, at least you made it out in one piece. More or less. And you saved a lot of programs scheduled for rectification." She returns his disc, and when their hands touch she transmits [comfort/safe/pride]. The warmth makes Beck feel worse. "We even got a few new recruits."

Yori smiles. She can put a positive spin on all of this. He's okay. Their mission was a success. They're saving innocent programs. And-

"And how many did we lose?"

Yori freezes. Beck's voice is heavy and tired- wrong. His eyes finally meet hers, but there is no light behind them.

She stands a little straighter; tries not to hesitate.

"We saved more programs than we lost."

"That's not an answer."

"...There are going to be setbacks."

"I know. Believe me, I know." Beck digs his palms into his eyes, and his voice glitches. "But I didn't think there would be this many."

Not for the first time, Yori wonders if she's doing the right thing.

Beck has experienced far too much loss to only be a beta. It's easy to forget sometimes, because he's good at hiding it behind too bright smiles and a constant state of motion. He's usually not still long enough to look sad; but in moments like these Yori can see guilt and self-doubt slipping through the cracks. Carrying the mantle of Tron is breaking him, and it's wrong of her to watch it happen and do nothing.

He's a mechanic, she reasons. It's not as if he can't help the resistance in other ways. Forget the Renegade- the last thing they need is to lose Beck.

"You sound like him sometimes."

Beck's voice is a mixture of fondness and grief, and it strikes Yori to her core. Her previous thoughts are whisked away like bits on a breeze.

Beck doesn't talk about Tron very often, but she knows he misses his mentor. It's high praise for anyone to compare her to Tron, but it means even more coming from Beck.

She's not sure what it means that he wants to talk about Tron now. Honestly, she's a little unsure of what to say.

"We spent many cycles together."

That, at least, attributes to their similar behavior.

Flynn said they were designed for each other. That even their Users were partners. Sometimes Yori wonders if they're still together, somewhere on the other side of the screen. Considering how they've neglected their counterparts, she's not sure what she wants the answer to be.

It's hard for her to think about Tron. She misses him, constantly, but if she dwells on everything they had and lost she knows she'll fall apart. It won't do any good.

Lost in her own thoughts, she doesn't notice Beck curl away from her.

"I saw him today."

Rinzler, Yori thinks, and then one word carries more (crushing) weight than she cares to unpack. She thinks of Beck's injuries, and his strange behavior, and something in her core freezes.

"He didn't-"

"No. Not me, anyways."

Truthfully, Yori knew the answer before she asked. If Rinzler had gone after Beck, the damage would be much worse. To say the least.

Her hand covers his wrist, and squeezes an old injury she doesn't know is there.

"I'm sorry you had to see him like that." Beck tries to meet her eyes but they're so sad that he has to look away. "I know it's hard."

"You must miss him," he says quietly. Yori notices the deflection, but she lets it slide.

"Always." Somehow her voice is warm. "I wish I had known he was out there before... Maybe I could have found him. Had more time with him." She nudges the younger program, and musters up a smile that's not quite so sad. "And met you sooner."

Beck actually laughs at that, though it's watery.

"I don't think I could've handled both of you lecturing me at once."

"You should've seen the two of us trying to lecture each other," Yori grins.

Beck shakes his head.

"I know from experience that's a lost cause."

"It usually was."

Her smile fades as she pushes down a surge of bitterness. Her last conversation with Tron had practically been an argument, and both of them had lost. The thought makes her ache.

Had Tron missed her, in the cycles when he still remembered who she was? Did he still think of her as his partner, or as another one of the many programs who failed and doubted him?

Yori looks at Beck and hates herself (though his mouth twitches in what might be a smile before she even speaks).

"You said he mentioned me before?"

"Yes."

Beck's cadence is amused and something else, and Yori is too flustered to puzzle out the emotion she can't read. She should look Beck in the eye for the favor she's about to ask, but suddenly her hands seem fascinating.

"Could you tell me what he said?" She glances up at him at the last moment, and has the decency to look guilty.

"I can show you."

Beck's disc is still in his hand, and he waves it at her. He has the memory pulled up before Yori can respond.

"I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this."

The Beck in the hologram sounds lighter, looks younger. There's something teasing and very beta-like in his expression, but the tone of his voice is more pensive; like he's looking for an answer Tron won't give him. "I'm sure a warrior like you never had time for a relationship. You probably think I'm wasting my energy."

Beck says all of this to Tron's back. The older program stands a little ways away, reading information off a screen.

"No," Tron responds, managing to sound both stoic and slightly annoyed, "I had a partner program for hundreds of cycles before your run time."

"What?" Beck sounds so shocked that Yori has to bite back a laugh. "You had a partner program?"

Tron gives him a wry look over his shoulder.

"You don't have to sound so surprised."

Beck starts several sentences that he can't seem to finish. Tron fixes him with another look.

"I'm surprised because you've never mentioned them before!"

"You never asked."

Beck makes an exasperated gesture once the older program's back is turned.

"Her name was Yori."

Tron's voice turns softer when he speaks her name. He types a command on the display in front of him, and an old image of her appears.

Yori's systems flood with grief at her innocent smile- the deep blue of her light lines. Those feelings only intensify when Beck steps closer and she can see part of Tron's face.

He looks the same. Tired, maybe, and a little sad, but alive and so much like she remembered him. For so many cycles he was out there, alone on some desolate corner of the Grid, and she had no idea.

Tron looks at the older version of Yori with reverence. She wonders what he would think of her now.

"We met on the old system. Flynn brought her over with Clu and I."

In the memory Beck stills. He registers that Tron is speaking of her in the past-tense, and takes a few hesitant steps closer.

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know."

Beck would not describe Tron as happy, but he remembers how unusual it was to see him look so openly sad. Tron bows his head in the (defeated) way Yori often does when she thinks about him.

"I never saw her again after the coup. We lived in the capital, but by the time Dyson and Clu were finished the closest city was Argon. I wanted to go look for her, but I was too badly damaged. And even now I can't be away from the healing chamber for too long."

Tron turns to face Beck properly, and Yori finally sees the scar on his face. Corroded voxels climb up his neck, blotting his face with deadened gray, and something in her core burns.

Rumors that Dyson was derezzed have been circulating for cycles. If she ever learns they aren't true, she might track him down and finish the job herself.

"I've always wanted to visit Tron City," Beck offers, wearing a grin. (Yori doesn't miss the way he emphasizes those last two words, trying to get a reaction from the older program.) He's obviously trying to lighten the mood, and it works in the past as well as the present.

"No, Beck," Tron's voice is filled with well-worn patience, and (maybe) a bit of gratitude. "The capitol is the heart of the occupation. It's too dangerous. And besides, I need you here."

His posture straightens as his gaze returns to Yori's photo. He manages to sound a little more confident. Hopeful.

"Yori could always take care of herself. She was smart. Resourceful. She helped Flynn code that city. There are plenty of places where she could lay low that not even the Creator knows about."

Next to her, Beck gives a little snort. The two of them are sitting in such a place right now; an underground base that Clu (and Flynn) know nothing about.

Back when the Grid was new, and she and Tron were the only programs on it, Yori was encouraged to help Flynn with his creations and add whatever she pleased. To her surprise, Flynn liked the idea of the Grid holding secrets, even from himself. ("Throw in some Easter eggs. What can it hurt?") That's one thing she's grateful for; those are the places she and others fled to after the coup. They now house the Uprising.

"Wow," Past-Beck crosses his arms. "Sounds like she could be an asset to the Uprising."

Yori smirks. He was still trying to build a case to go and find her.

"Yes. But she could also be gone," Tron says. Beck and Yori stop smiling. "If Clu hasn't derezzed her or worse, seeking her out would only put her in danger. Put all of us in danger. I don't think she would want us to take that risk."

"I'm sorry," Beck relents.

"So am I," Tron sighs. "It's hard for me to know who to trust sometimes. I've been betrayed so many times… I always knew I could count on her. And I'm glad that I can count on you."

Tron gives Beck a rare smile, and then the memory is gone.

Yori looks up and Beck is halfway across the room.

He's turned so she can't see his face, but she hears him take a shuddering breath. His arms are crossed, and he grips his frame like he might break his own code.

"I'm sorry."

The words are so quiet Yori almost doesn't hear them. She frowns- stands up but doesn't move. She wants to reach out and offer reassurance, but she gets the feeling it would only make things worse.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," she says. Her words are soft, but she's using her Leader of the Uprising voice.

Everyone treats Beck like he's some innocent victim of everything that's fallen apart around him, but they're wrong- they don't understand. Heat catches in his core, and all the grief and anger and hurt that's been building for cycles explodes.

"I failed him! What happened to him was my fault!"

"What are you talking about?"

"He was damaged by Clu and Dyson. His code was being eaten by a virus, and it kept getting worse. His systems couldn't heal themselves. When you're rectified, your code is repaired before you're reprogrammed. It was my idea to let him be captured. I thought I could stop the process before it was finished, but I wasn't fast enough."

Beck's voice is warped somehow; bitter and broken.

"He was fine for cycles. He was healed. He could fight. He was himself again. He was hopeful. He even talked about— trying to find you." His gaze flickers to Yori, who's now standing in front of him. "But it was just a trick. The reprogramming took over slowly. The occupation learned everything he knew. He turned against me."

And- some Tron- he ran.

"Clu took Tron and destroyed Argon. And it's all my fault."

"Beck,"

"If I had been faster— if I had noticed that something was wrong— if we hadn't followed my stupid plan-"

"Beck," Yori lays a hand on his arm, and he's so worked up he's almost overheating. "What would've happened if you didn't try to save Tron?"

He meets her gaze; angry and calm.

"Systems failure." Something in her core stutters, but Beck only shakes his head. "It still would've been better. He would rather be dead than have Clu use him like this."

"But he wouldn't blame you for what happened."

"I blame me."

"Well I don't," she snaps, and that makes him pause. They both know that counts for something (who has more right to be angry about Tron's "death" than the program designed to spend her runtime with him?)- and she can be just as stubborn as he can. "Clu and Dyson are the ones who hurt him, Beck. You tried to help him. You're just one program. You can't be expected to fix everything all by yourself."

The look he gives her is just softer than a glare.

"He was."

Yori's circuits run cold with fury and grief.

"No, Beck. He wasn't. It was never supposed to be like this." Her voice trembles with a desperate edge. Does she have any hope of getting Beck to understand this when Tron himself didn't? "At one point Tron had an entire team of security programs to help him. Tron had—" Clu? Dyson? Flynn? Her? "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Her words feel small and inadequate, and Beck doesn't bother responding to them. He's turned away from her; she can't tell what he's thinking.

All of this feels too familiar. Yori remembers another conversation like this one- another stubborn Tron who she lost almost immediately after.

"Don't you think I blame myself too?" She asks.

The anger in Beck's eyes falters.

"What?"

"Even before Clu turned traitor, there was a lot of unrest on the Grid." Yori starts to pace. "It was becoming more and more dangerous all the time. Tron kept getting hurt. Programs were disappearing, and everyone had loud opinions about the ISOs. I tried to convince Tron to share his concerns with Flynn. I don't think he really understood how bad things got sometimes when he wasn't here. But Tron couldn't bring himself to question the Users." She drops back into her seat, catching her head in her hands. "I should've gone to Flynn myself. I should have tried harder— to find Tron after the coup. Maybe if I had— Maybe none of this would have happened."

She stops, and there is sorrow in her eyes, but there's something pointed there too.

"... I guess we could do this all cycle," Beck mumbles. Then, after a pause, "Besides, our plans have a lot of contingencies. Tron would never approve of any plan with that many ifs."

"No. He wouldn't."

Beck sighs, plops down next to her and slouches in his seat. Yori can practically feel his anger fading to fatigue.

"I wish we could do something."

Her light-lines burn a little brighter, but her voice is soft.

"We are doing something."

"You know what I mean. I wish we could help him."

"So do I. Believe me." It hurts knowing that some part of Tron is out there and she can't save him. Yori will always hope for a reunion with Tron- "But Rinzler isn't Tron. You and I are all that's left of him now. Us and the resistance. We carry his legacy." The two of them share heavy, broken smiles. "He would be proud of you, Beck. And what happened to him is not your fault. It's not."

Beck crosses his arms, nonplused.

"It's nice of you to say that, but you can't honestly tell me you believe that and then blame yourself." He looks earnest and the tiniest bit smug as he gives her a gentle nudge. "What happened to Tron wasn't your fault, either. He would be proud of you, too."

(She thinks of her red light-lines and wishes she could believe him.)

Now it's Yori's turn to sigh, as if she can shake off cycles worth of weight in grief and pressure.

"But I'm not him," She says, and she hates the weakness in her voice. "Neither of us are. And we've both seen what it was like to be Tron. It's almost more than a program can take."

Which brings them back to how this conversation started.

"I wonder if you shouldn't take a break for a while."

"What?"

Beck's tone is only slightly more incredulous than when Yori's accused him of breaking something he definitely broke.

"I think it might be good for all of us to lay low," she emphasizes. "If there were more soldiers there today- and higher ranking ones- it means the occupation is beginning to predict our moves. And there are rumors on the inside that Clu is up to something big. If they're true, we're all going to need our strength for whatever that is."

Her serious expression devolves as the beta huffs out a sigh.

"Take some time off, Beck. Get some rest. It won't derez you."

"It might," he grumbles.

"Now who sounds like Tron?" Yori smirks, and that shuts him up so fast she has to laugh. Beck can't quite bite back a smile, either. She's glad to see him happy again, but there's one more serious thing she needs to say.

"Thank you for sharing that memory with me."

Yori's eyes are still a brilliant blue, even if her light-lines aren't. If she glows like that just talking about Tron, the two of them together must have really been a sight.

Beck's smile turns softer as he gives a little nod.

"You're welcome."

"You can talk to me about him, you know. About anything. I tried to tell him he couldn't do everything by himself. You don't have to, either." Yori gives his arm a squeeze, transmitting [pride/gratitude]. Beck pings them right back. "We're going to get through this together. We have to."

In another moment of weakness she adds, "I can't lose you, too."

Beck leans against her.

"You won't."