A/N: So as not to mislead anyone, if you're looking for a completely Sam/Quorra romance fic you're not going to find it in this story. This obviously parallels the movie so you will get hints as you did there, but yeah, nothing too overt. The story is more about Flynn and Sam, but I didn't want to put that as the main characters and make people think this was Flynncest. :| (But this chapter should make the Sam/Quorra shippers happy...)
He's cold, lying on something hard and metallic, leeching all the heat out of his back. His clothes are off and hands are touching him, roaming over his neck and shoulders, cold and warm both and confusing and Sam can't move and everything hurts and is he sleeping or awake and he needs to wake up wake up wake up NOW
Sam comes back to consciousness with a gasp, sitting bolt upright... or trying to, at least. Hands hold him down, soothing voices telling him to relax, to calm down, but his heart is pounding and he cries out, flails, hits his invisible attacker not again, not again, you can't have me again! His shoulder hurts why, why does it hurt, what did you do to me and his head is spinning and it's all dark and blurry and he's going to be sick again but he doesn't and then it all fades to merciful black...
When he comes to again, his head is clearer, the sick-spinning easing into a faint wooziness even as he turns his head slightly. He's still lying on something hard and cold, and he has a brief moment of panic as he realizes that the top half of his suit is off. Drawing in a sharp breath, he tries to struggle upright, but gentle hands hold him down, warm, soothing, easing him back to the floor. Blinking his eyes open, all he can see is a dark sky and clouds overhead, a mockery of stars in the circuits and lights blinking through the cover. Finally, he manages to focus on his father's face above him, concerned and full of care.
His real father, not that younger version, that copy, the one who...
Swallowing, he tries to find his voice. "D-dad? What... where...?"
"Just relax, Sam. We're safe here. You're gonna be okay." His father smiles and squeezes his hand, then pulls away. Sam tries to sit up, but falls back, gasping as pain shoots through his shoulder and arm. He feels Quorra moving behind him, and then he's lying on something softer, pillowed on her leg, and the coolness of her body doesn't feel so bad right now because his skin feels like it's on fire. Everything hurts, and he just wants to go back to sleep...
"Stay with us a minute, kiddo." A hand touches his face, and Sam tries, he really does, forcing his eyes open to focus on the concerned faces above him. He tries a smile, but it feels weak even on his own lips.
"I'm with ya. Not gonna get rid of me just yet." Lying here isn't going to help him stay conscious, though, and so he moves again, trying valiantly to sit up. Quorra is behind him, her body shifting with his, and he finds himself leaning back against her shoulder, breathing heavily. Whatever drug Zuse had given him is obviously still in his system; or perhaps not, perhaps he is simply shutting down, his body overwhelmed with everything that has happened. How long has it been since he'd slipped into the dusty chair underneath the arcade? It feels like a lifetime ago...
He focuses on his father, who is kneeling before him, his fingers spinning a long line of code out of thin air, the code unspooling into a gleaming white strip of cloth. What's that for...? It is only when his father's hands reach for him, gently pulling him upright, and begin wrapping the cloth—the bandage around his chest does he realize what has happened. Glancing down, he sees the angry gash in his skin, the cut still oozing blood, and he swallows and sways slightly, tilting his head forward to lean his forehead against his dad's shoulder.
"Sam...?" His father's voice is concerned, and he feels Quorra's hands steadying him. He takes a few shallow breaths, willing the vertigo away. He can deal with this... pain isn't something new, being a daredevil has had its price in the past. Besides, it gives him something else to focus on, something aside from what had happened only a few hours ago.
"M'okay," he murmurs, pushing himself back again. "M'okay. Go ahead." He lifts his head and tries a weak smile. "Guess... that all didn't go like we planned, huh?"
His father huffs out a breath, and Sam can tell he's agitated. "No. Not quite." His mouth is set in a grim line as he continues binding Sam's shoulder, his hands gentle and sure. "At least we all got out all right."
"Flynn's disk is gone," Quorra says softly, and Kevin shoots her a sharp look. Sam is certain he wasn't supposed to know that, not yet, and some part of him is irritated that they're trying to keep things from him, to protect him. An intense wave of guilt follows that feeling, and he swallows and looks away, focusing on the metallic floor of... wherever it is that they are, he still isn't sure.
"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "If I hadn't gone off there alone..."
"Sam," his father begins, but Sam cuts him off.
"I just... couldn't stand being helpless anymore... I had to do something..." His breath hitches and the floor blurs in front of him. "I had to try... and it all went wrong..."
"Sam..."
"I couldn't... I couldn't do anything..." Sam's breath is coming in little gasps now, his chest tight. "And he saw that... he was going to..." The memory of Zuse standing over him swims back through his mind's eye, hazy from the drug, but clear in intent. That mocking smile, the insidious touches, the way the program knew what had happened and was going to do the same thing... "Oh god, he was going to..."
"Sam!" He can't seem to get enough air, and his father's arms are holding him now, pulling him away from Quorra, keeping him from drowning in the guilt and repulsion.
"M'sorry... m'sorry..." he gasps over and over, eyes tightly closed. "M'sorry..." He's shaking again, hands balled into fists against his father's chest. The tears come this time, falling down his face almost unnoticed, but unable to be held back, and he's not even sure what he's apologizing for any more. Sorry for not coming to the arcade sooner... sorry for giving up on his father so many years before... sorry for letting Clu take him... sorry for being weak...
"It's not your fault, Sam." Gentle fingers card through his hair, warm and reassuring, and slowly, Sam begins to calm. "You have to believe that."
Kevin holds his son carefully, feeling him relax against him, the choking sobs easing into soft sighs and slower breathing. It hurts to see Sam like this, broken and hurt, and he knows now that he will do anything to make it right. Even if Sam is no longer the little boy he left behind so many cycles... years ago, he is still his son, and he will still protect him.
When Sam seems to be asleep, Flynn eases him back, and Quorra reaches out to help support him. Kevin smiles tightly, nodding at her in thanks, and quickly finishes bandaging the wound in Sam's shoulder. He flicks his fingers over the code in Sam's disc, easily rerezzing his suit over the binding and helping to hold it in place. Gently, he helps to settle Sam back against Quorra, who shifts to lean against one of the railing posts, holding Sam easily in her arms.
"Quorra... if something happens to me... make sure you get him out," Kevin says softly, reaching up to brush his fingertips lightly over Sam's pale cheek. The boy's face is shiny with sweat, and his skin is hot to the touch... not a good sign at all. He needs a hospital and real treatment, but Kevin isn't even sure if his injuries will transfer, once he returns to the User—the real world. He hopes they won't, for Sam's sake.
Quorra's eyes are wide and searching as she looks at him, her mouth set in a grim line. "Kevin. Nothing's going to happen to you. It... it can't..."
Kevin smiles and turns his attention on her for the moment, to the girl... the woman who has become like his daughter over these many cycles. "Removing myself from the equation, remember?" he says, touching her hand where it rests on Sam's chest. "Just... promise me you'll get him home."
She takes a deep breath and turns her hand, curling her fingers around his briefly. "I promise."
Good girl. Kevin squeezes her hand, then moves to stand, pulling a small vial out of the inner pocket of his robe. "Here. Give him this when he wakes up. It won't help as much as it would a program, but it might do a little good." He hands her the liquid energy, then stretches, taking a deep breath as he looks over the dark landscape surrounding them. "I'm gonna go knock on the sky and listen to the sound." He doesn't particularly want to leave Sam's side, not right now, but... he has a feeling that Sam and Quorra should talk, without his interference. Turning to walk away, he pauses, glancing back at the girl. "And hey... maybe you should tell him a bit about... yourself when he does, okay?" he says with a grin and a wink, then moves off a short distance to kneel on the cold metal deck of the Sailer.
Sam doesn't realize when he's drifted off again, but becomes aware of awakening. He's half-lying on the floor, leaning back against on something soft, his suit once again covering him. Tilting his head down, he sees a dark-gloved arm wrapped gently around him. "Quorra...?" He looks up curiously, meeting her gaze.
"Hey." Her smile is warm, even though her body is cool, and Sam finds that he doesn't mind her touch. "Back with us now?"
"Yeah..." Sam lifts his head, finds himself still dizzy, and lets it fall back again. "Where are we, anyway?"
"Solar Sailer transport, on the way to the portal," Quorra answers, settling him back against her shoulder. "Here... drink this." A small vial is held in front of him. "Your father said it would help."
Sam looks at the flask dubiously, but takes it with his right hand, wincing as even the small movement causes a shift to his opposite shoulder. He swallows the contents in two swift gulps, feeling warmth immediately spread through his body, along with a surge of energy like he's just mainlined espresso. He feels better than he has in hours, though he isn't about to go base-jumping off any buildings any time soon. "Whoa... what is this stuff?"
"Concentrated energy," Quorra explains, helping him to settle more comfortably against her. "It would help a program more, if we'd suffered a catastrophic reboot, but I think it can help you Users too."
Sam notices that the lines on his suit are glowing brighter, even as he shifts to rest against Quorra's shoulder again. "Where's dad?"
"Over there," Quorra responds with a nod of her head, and Sam focuses further down the walkway, seeing the darker silhouette of the man kneeling before an unfurled sail of light. A bright glow illuminates him, gleaming from an unknown source beyond, and Sam almost laughs... the man really does look like some sort of mystical deity. Perhaps he is, to these programs here.
"How did you find him?" he asks, curious as to how and why a program like Quorra was living with his father. What was so special about her? Why had his dad chosen her as an... apprentice?
Quorra is quiet a moment, and Sam has to twist around slightly to see her expression. She's chewing on her lip, her eyes distant. He's about to ask her what's wrong when she begins to speak. "It was during the Purge," she says quietly. "Clu was relentless. The Black Guards were executing ISOs in the streets. Everyone I knew... disappeared." She turns her head, shifting so she can look down at Sam, her unearthly eyes sad and full of pain. "Then they came for me."
Sam's eyes widen. "You're an ISO." It all makes sense now. His father hasn't just been keeping her as a companion or an apprentice, he's been protecting her, all this time.
She nods, taking a shaky breath. "Yeah. The last one, from what I know."
Sitting up a bit more, Sam turns his body so he can watch her face, though his head still rests on her shoulder. "Go on..."
Swallowing, Quorra appears to regain some of her composure. As she tells the story of her rescue, Sam can see the adoration in her eyes, the care for his father, the devotion to the Creator of the system, and he feels a pang of... what? Jealousy? Sadness? Loss? She had all these years with his father, and he lost him when he was only a boy. But he can't begrudge her the time, not really. How much has she lost, in comparison? She's the last of her kind, the only ISO left, if she's correct... no wonder his dad's been looking after her.
"He'll want you to go back with us," Sam says quietly as Quorra falls silent at the end of her story. "You okay with that?"
"Of course," Quorra replies without hesitation, her arm tightening slightly around Sam. "He's told me so much of the User world, I'd love to see it. And I've read all the books he's shared with me. There's so many, but Jules Verne is my favorite... do you know Jules Verne?"
"Sure..." Sam murmurs sleepily, lulled by the rumble of the Sailer and the soft-yet-solid comfort of the girl holding him.
"What's he like?" Quorra's voice is excited, innocent, and Sam nearly laughs. It's... good, to feel something that isn't pain, or fear, or anything that makes him want to just forget this whole nightmare that began when he was sucked into this world.
Sighing softly, Sam turns his head to look at the front of the Sailer, watching the play of lights across the bow and the aurora borealis of energy dancing in the black sky above them. The bright gleam of the portal beckons them onward, leading them to hope and home. "Quite the view," he says, his voice slurred. He really just wants to sleep, and wonders how long this trip will be. He could sleep here... he's safe, Quorra is a comforting presence behind him, her touch not bringing the shivers of revulsion he's felt at any other hands. She's speaking again, talking about the portal, the way the glow told them the Creator was with them again, and his mind wanders as the world begins to blur into light and noise but then she's asking him something...
"Huh?"
"The sun. I've always imagined this to be like the sun... what's it like?"
Sam blinks slowly. He'd never thought about it... there is no sun on the Grid, is there? It's been dark since he arrived, the only light being from the programs themselves or the buildings around them. "Man... I've never had to describe it before." He glances back, and Quorra's face is eager, expectant, shining in admiration, and he smiles faintly. "Warm... radiant..." His eyes are closing again, against his will, and his head lolls against her shoulder, cool against his flushed, heated cheek. "Beauti... ful..."