Please read: Hey everybody! Hope you enjoy the latest chapter! Just wanted to let you know that, after this chapter, this fanfic is going to diverge from the movie a lot more. Excited? I am! Anyway, R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~

Ten

1988

I

"I don't know," the little program said thoughtfully as he stared down into his glass of pure energy, the nonalcoholic version. "There's just something about him I don't like."

"Come on, Ram," he laughed, not wanting to downplay his friend's fears but hoping that he'd stop worrying for a few micros and have a good time, "There's nothing wrong with Clu. Flynn created him. Besides, the Users are always there for us; they wouldn't do anything to harm us."

Shrugging sheepishly, Ram smiled at the use of his old saying, a saying that helped propel them both through even the most brutal of cycles on the old Game Grid. But that smile quickly faded into a sad smirk, and he muttered sarcastically, "Come on, the guy doesn't give ya the creeps at all? Jeez, it's like he's Flynn's evil backup or something."

He didn't know what to say to that. For as long as he had known Ram, he never seemed the type to worry, to dwell on things outside of his control. He always seemed to take things in stride, even back in the Game Grid where he used to make Sark glitch over his sarcastic comebacks just for fun. But he just couldn't get over his suspicions that Clu wasn't the great program he was cracked up to be. Finally, he thought of an appropriate comeback: "Oh, come on, buddy, you want to tell me that Clu's a villain…like the MCP."

"No," Ram laughed in response, a smile forming on his face yet again, the fear gone from his eyes. "I'm just saying there's something not right about him, ya know?"

"Did he call you a virus again today?" he asked innocently, struggling to keep the laughter from his voice.

His old friend clearly knew him well enough to know he was kidding because he just chuckled. "Nah," he replied, his classic smirk playing on his face, "Just said I was about as useful as a bit. Bet he didn't know he was talkin' to a former undefeated gaming champion!"

Taking another sip of his drink—Zuse knew how to make the best drinks in the city, that was for sure—he laughed, "User, Ram, I bet you could send that glitching viral right to the recycling bin if he had the guts to challenge you."

"Yeah!" Ram exclaimed, the old joy and fire back in his eyes again. "I'd show him he isn't as amazingly wonderful as his User would have him believe, teach him not to underestimate me ever again!"

Something about that comment didn't sit well with him, largely because it almost seemed as if Ram was really frustrated with Flynn and not his program…it almost seemed like he wanted to challenge Clu to prove something to Flynn. Sure, the User had some flaws—namely that he seemed to only listen to himself and Clu sometimes—but that didn't mean he didn't respect other the programs. We were made to fight for the Users, and we work specifically for Flynn, he thought as he stared at his old friend. What's Ram getting at? Fairly confused—and wanting answers he knew Ram wouldn't give him unless directly challenged—he asked, "User, buddy, this isn't even about Clu, is it?"

Ram stared at him for a moment—he could tell his friend had figured him out—and sighed. "Look, Tron," he replied, his voice surprisingly nervous, "I dunno…I just don't trust Clu, alright?"

He took another sip of his drink, deciding that he didn't want to deal with this right now. For the love of the Users, can't Ram have a good time anymore? he thought surprisingly bitter about what was happening. And then he remembered how much he had pouted back in the old Game Grid, how he had often ignored Ram to futilely calculate ways to escape. But…still…that was different, and he was about to tell Ram what he really felt about his sudden distrust of the User who had restored him when Zuse interrupted him.

"Care for another, dear?"the barkeeper asked, smiling his typical rather fake smile. "You look like you could use one, if you don't mind me saying."

"Sure, why not?" he muttered in response; when he looked over at Ram, he realized he was just staring vacantly into his drink, a fairly broken expression on his face.

Still, he wasn't about to admit he was right about Flynn. He just couldn't be…

II

Because Tron's CPU was on the fritz after a drinking binge—he had been awoken to Ram struggling to drag the powered down security program into the compound—he decided it would be best to leave him behind for this trip to visit the ISOs. And, as he maneuvered the three-man light jet through a particularly difficult section of the Outlands, he was beginning to regret that decision.

The silence in the cockpit was overwhelming and very uncomfortable. As soon as Clu had found out his User was bringing Ram along as well, he had descended into a moody silence. And the little actuary had spent the entire trip staring out the window vacantly, not excitedly asking questions like he usually did whenever he took him anywhere. What's wrong with them? he had to wonder.

"Flynn," Ram said softly, finally breaking the oppressive silence, "I overheard an ISO at the club yesterday, and they're real concerned about something. Do you want me to check it out?"

He didn't even look at me when he asked that, he realized as he looked over at the actuarial program. What's gotten into him lately? But instead of asking him that question, he replied, "Sure that sounds good, Ram. But what exactly are they worried about?"

The little actuary shrugged and answered noncommittally, "I dunno, he was just talking to Zuse about securing his alliance…it's probably nothing…"

Even though there was clearly more to this story than Ram was letting on, he decided to let it go. Besides, for the most part, he trusted the actuary and figured he was probably telling the truth. And he really didn't need Ram hanging around when he talked to the ISOs about their plans…and his to make them a permanent residence on the Grid. That was what was important.

He turned to Clu—about to go through all the details of their latest trip—and noticed that his program was glaring at the actuary, a vicious scowl on his face. As soon as he felt his User's eyes on him, it vanished instantly—maybe I just imagined it…he thought—and he smiled. "What's the plan?" he asked excitedly.

Dismissing what he had seen—besides, Ram and Clu had never really gotten along very well anyway—he grinned at his program. Everything's good, he told himself, completely confident in that fact. Nothing to worry about…

2009

I

Flynn didn't even get up when he heard someone enter his house. He didn't want to admit to himself that everything was most likely about to change, that maybe his strategy wasn't going to work anymore. If a new player is in the game it's going to change everything…on both sides, he thought, more nervous than he thought he would be. But it won't if I can help it…

"Flynn," Quorra's soft voice tore him from his thoughts. "There's someone here to see you."

As he got up—barely hearing Quorra's explanation that she found him on the light cycle grid and had to intervene—he saw a person he knew instantly even though he didn't fully recognize him. His son…the one person he loved more than anything in the entire world…was there. Emotions pelted through him—shock, joy, fear—and he stepped forward to wrap Sam in a tight hug. He had never thought he would see him again, and part of him still couldn't fully believe what was happening.

"Dad…" Sam's voice trailed off as he returned the hug. He was clearly as choked up as he was because he didn't say anything more.

They stayed like that for a few moments—finally reunited after so many years, Flynn didn't want to let go and clearly Sam didn't either—before Flynn finally broke it off. "Sam? How…how did you get here?"

"Dad, I got your page," Sam smiled, and the sight was enough to tear Flynn's heart into shreds. Page? he thought, already well aware of what that meant even though he didn't want to admit it. Clu…Clu wanted to bring somebody from the outside here. But why?

"Sam," he said softly, hoping the truth wouldn't hurt him too badly…wouldn't make him think he wasn't happy to see him. "I didn't send you a page but…I'm so happy to see you…"

He was happy when Sam didn't even flinch at learning that his father hadn't sent for him, instead opting to ask, "So…you've been stuck here? That's why you never came back…right?"

Sighing deeply, Flynn responded—seeing his son on the Grid was bringing up so many painful memories—trying to hide his pain, "That's right, kiddo. I wanted to get home so badly but…the portal closed." Hoping to change the topic—more than anything, he just wanted to see what had been going on in his now-adult son's life—he said, chuckling, "Wow, you've changed a lot."

Sam smiled brightly and replied, the laughter in his voice Flynn had been missing for all these years, "The years haven't been too kind to you, huh, Dad?"

Laughing, he was about to offer a quick comeback when Quorra stepped in. "I hate to interrupt you guys," she said apologetically. "But there's something you need to attend to, Flynn."

Something I need to attend to? Flynn wondered, staring at Quorra in disbelief. What the hell is she talking about? My son's here and I just want to…damn it, what else did the cat drag in? Without saying another word, Quorra answered his question, gesturing to a small body lying on the ground near the entrance to the room. It was Sam who offered the explanation, "He saved my life, Dad. We figured you could fix him up…"

"I can try, but I won't guarantee anything," Flynn said softly as he walked over to where the program was lying, his dull circuits flickering weakly. "But I can tell you already he's not looking too good."

He quickly unhooked the program's identity disc and rolled him onto his back. He was oddly familiar looking—maybe it was the circuitry, maybe it was his body type—and Flynn paused at the realization. But it can't be, he thought. It's been 20 years; he can't still be alive.

Even though it was admittedly an unnecessary waste of precious time—he could tell just by looking at him the program didn't have much time left in him—he de-rezzed the black face shield that was hiding his face from view. He had to know what he was dealing with.

The face shield de-rezzed, revealing a painfully familiar face…that was now severely damaged. Ram, Flynn thought, trying his best to hide from Quorra and Sam that he was upset, that he knew this program and once called him a friend. What did they do to you?

II

Clearly, there was something Flynn wasn't telling them. Quorra watched him closely as he went to work—accessing the program's coding on his identity disc and working to find and fix the damaged areas—and wondered what he knew that they didn't. He knows this program, she guessed as she glanced down at the program's badly damaged face. And I do too…but from where? And what's his name?

She tried to look past all of the terrible damage—it was hard to even look at the program given that almost half of his face was missing—to determine where she knew him from but found she couldn't remember. Even though she doubted that Flynn would tell her the truth, she decided to ask anyway. "Flynn," she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "I've seen this program before…from a long time ago. Do you know who he is?"

Sighing deeply, Flynn didn't even look up from his work. After removing yet another portion of damaged coding, he responded, his voice unusually sad even though he didn't acknowledge he knew the program, "The disc says his name's Ram, Q."

A weighty silence descended on them as Flynn continued sifting through the program's coding. She looked over at Sam and saw that he was staring at his father in amazement—clearly, he doesn't know what he's capable of, she thought, suppressing a small chuckle—before returning her attention to the damaged program that she knew was important somehow.

Awhile later, Flynn stopped. "Well, I've done all I can do," he stated as he rolled the program over and attached his identity disc to his back once more. "All we can do is hope he reboots properly."

That was when Quorra realized something…Flynn was afraid…

III

Pain. So much pain. His circuits sparking, Ram rebooted, his processors whirring unhealthily. What was happening? Where was he? It felt like cycles had passed before the pain subsided enough for him to crack open his good eye. What…what's going on? he wondered. He felt different, and his CPU tried desperately to calculate where he was.

It all came back to him in an instant—meeting the User, fighting Rinzler, escaping Jarvis and Clu only to go back to save the User again—but, still, it didn't make sense. I can't still be alive, he thought even as he realized he was lying on the floor in the entrance way of a room. User, I crashed a light jet…

Ram tried to push himself into a sitting position only to fall back to the floor, pain shooting through all of his processors. Despite the pain, he managed to brush a hand across his face—which felt so different—and he realized the right side of his face had been restored. What? That can't be…he thought, desperately trying to determine what was going on. Only a User…

It hit him like an identity disc to the gut, and a familiar voice—one he had never wanted to hear again in his life—confirmed what he had already figured out on his own: "Take it easy, man," Flynn ordered, his voice filled with—clearly fake, he thought, rage building inside of him—compassion. "You're not looking too good."

He wasn't just going to lay there and listen to the User who abandoned him, who left him to rot in that cell, who never listened to him even when he was telling the truth, preach at him. He didn't care if he strained his processors—dooming him to deresolution yet again—he wasn't going to take this…wasn't going to let the oh-so-wonderful-and-benevolent "creator" hold this over his head to be able to not listen to him some more.

Summoning all of his energy, Ram unhooked his identity disc from his back and scrambled to his feet—ignoring the pain that signaled his processors were protesting this movement. In one swift movement, he charged the great—and not so powerful, he thought, snickering at Flynn's shocked gasp—User and pinned him to the ground, pushing his identity disc to his throat.