Hey everybody! Thanks to everybody who has reviewed; you all are really the only reason why I'm still writing this. This chapter introduces two new themes, so I hope you enjoy it. Plot twists abound. R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~
Nineteen
1985
I
"Flynn, is there something wrong?" Ram asked worriedly, staring up at him with fearful eyes.
Sighing deeply—well aware that he had just completely torn apart many of his blueprints in a fit of rage—he replied, unable to keep his voice from cracking, "No, nothing's wrong."
For a moment, they just stood there, and it almost felt like the silence could crush him. Finally, Ram spoke again, his voice hesitant: "Are you sure?"
What was he supposed to say? How could he possibly explain death to a program that had absolutely no idea what it was? Still, he needed to talk, and if Ram wanted to listen he would. "I…I lost someone…my wife." I couldn't even get the sentence out before starting to cry like a baby, he thought ruefully as he offered the program what he knew must be a pitiful excuse for a smile. Catching himself the best he could, he continued, "She…she was in a car accident. And, and I didn't even get to say goodbye, man!"
When he looked up from the ground, he saw that Ram was clearly speechless. He was staring at him with wide, pain filled eyes—he clearly never thought Users could die, he thought dryly—and, when he finally spoke, his voice was ragged: "Flynn…I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do…"
He didn't know why he did it, but he didn't respond to Ram's offer; instead, he continued his previous chain of thought, acting as if the program hadn't spoken at all. "I got to the hospital…and it was too late. She didn't even…wake up before…And…there was nothing I could do!" No longer trying to hold back his sobs, he kept going, "There was nothing I could do, man! I…I couldn't save her…I didn't even get to say goodbye. The world's…too…cruel, too…imperfect. This…never should have happened…It's not fair, man!"
"Flynn…" Ram's voice trailed off. The look in his eyes seemed oddly familiar—the pain, the sadness—but he couldn't place where he had seen it before and didn't care to. Not now. Not after what had happened to Jordan. Not after having his life practically destroyed. Sighing, the little program said hesitantly, "I'm really sorry. I…I know what it's like, and…"
Even though deep down inside, he knew Ram, in a way, did know what it was like, even though he knew it was just an innocent comment from an individual who couldn't really understand death, something inside of him snapped. Maybe he just wanted to take his anger out on someone, maybe Ram was just a convenient target. He didn't know, and he didn't even stop to consider it before lashing out. "And what the hell would you know about it? Fuck, man! Jordan…died! She's never coming back! So what the fuck would you know about any of this!"
Blinking—a wounded expression on his face—Ram fumbled through a timid apology: "Flynn, I-I…I'm sorry…You're…right, I don't get…it."
Once again, he ignored the little actuary, this time to keep yelling at him. "You're just a program, man! So don't act like you understand anything, alright? Just…leave me alone."
"Flynn," stubborn as always—he would have laughed in any other set of circumstances—Ram tried again, his voice wavering horribly.
He didn't let him get any farther than his name; "Get out!" he yelled, not at all concerned about hurting the little program because he himself was hurt. Part of him wanted to make Ram pay for acting like he understood his pain…understood his loss…
After Ram slipped out—not before whispering again that he was really sorry—he sat in the silence and cried just as hard as he did that terrible day…
II
He found Ram sitting outside on the ground, idly spinning his identity disc, staring blankly out into the distance at something he could tell wasn't there. Sighing deeply, he walked over to the little program and sat down beside him; he doesn't even know I'm here, he thought, trying to calculate what was wrong to no avail. "Hey, Ram, what's up?" he asked, breaking the weighty silence.
Ram flinched at the sound of his voice, but quickly seemed to regain his composure. "You should probably go talk to Flynn," he said simply without even turning to look at him; he was clearly trying to mask his pain behind apparent indifference, but he knew him well enough to tell he was hurting.
"What happened?" he probed, not about to let the actuary get away with sending him to Flynn for answers.
"What I meant," Ram muttered sadly—clearly trying to dodge the question by giving him something to do, "is that Flynn needs…someone to talk to."
"What happened?"
Finally turning to face him, Ram sighed, no longer trying to his pain, "Flynn's…wife de-died. So you should probably go talk to him 'cause…you'd understand better than me."
With a pang, he thought of Yori. It wasn't too long ago he lost his beloved partner because neither he nor Flynn had thought that she would need an upgrade to come onto the Grid…she had crashed almost instantly and was gone before he really knew what happened.
Ram's dejected voice tore him from his thoughts: "User, why do I always say the wrong thing?"
"I'm fine," he replied quickly, well aware that this wasn't only about him, that something had happened between him and Flynn. "And…I'm sure you were just trying to help Flynn."
"Apparently deresolution isn't like 'death,'" Ram stated wryly. He had gone back to staring out into the distance and what he had just said probably wasn't even meant for him. "But…"
And then it hit him, and he knew exactly what was wrong with his old friend. Flynn must have told him that he didn't understand that his wife—what was the word?—died, didn't understand his pain, he thought. And that must have made him think that the fact he de-rezzed…didn't really matter. Offering Ram a weak smile, he asked, for the actuary's benefit and his own, "What was it like?"
Ram started at the question—he knew from experience that he never wanted to talk about his deresolution—but then answered slowly, "It was…painful. I knew what was happening long before Flynn did, I guess. That was the worst part, really. The waiting. Not the pain. It probably wouldn't…be as bad if it happened fast, ya know?" Pausing, he finally turned to face him with sorrow filled eyes. "At the end, I didn't really feel anything but the pain…and then, it was over. Everything…faded away. It all went black…kinda like being powered down but not…"
Nodding—if Yori had to de-rezz, at least it wasn't drawn out like poor Ram's was, at least she wasn't in pain for too long, he told himself—he tried to offer the actuary a smile but it wouldn't come. He didn't trust himself to speak, to tell Ram that he understood when all he understood was loss and not deresolution itself, so he didn't.
They sat in silence for a few micros before the little actuary finally pushed himself to his feet. A weak smile on his face, he just said softly, "Thanks for listening, Tron. You should probably go help Flynn out now. He…needs it."
As soon as Ram was gone—he took the light runner and ran, clearly trying to escape something he still didn't understand—he got up and made his way into the compound. Letting himself into Flynn's office without knocking, he found the User slumped over his desk, shredded blue prints all over the floor. "Flynn, are you alright?"
"Do I look alright, man?" Flynn snapped, looking up at him with red eyes.
"I heard about what happened," he replied steadily, trying his best not to let the User's anger keep him from trying to help, "and I'm really sorry…"
It almost seemed like all of the fight left him upon hearing those words because Flynn just stared at him brokenly. He didn't offer a quick retort, didn't yell at him about how he didn't understand. Knowing he had to help him—even if he didn't want it—he continued softly, his voice cracking horribly, "I know that…it's not the same for programs, but when I lost Yori…I didn't know what I was going to do. It felt like half of me was lost…forever."
"How did you…how were you able…" Flynn's voice trailed off; the broken expression on his face was enough to make him reconsider everything he had thought he knew about Users. They can get hurt…just like programs, he realized, the thought enough to make his CPU protest.
Still, now wasn't the time to think about that. Realizing what Flynn was asking him, he responded, trying to keep his voice from quivering, "Move on? You never…really do. I mean, most of the time, I feel alright. But, once in awhile, I see something that reminds me of her, and…it hurts. But…the thing is: I know she'd want me to keep living my life. So…I hold on to my memories of her, and I do the best I can in everything I do…because that's what she would want."
As soon as he was finished, the silence returned. It almost felt, to him at least, like Yori was present in the room in some sense…and he knew she would be proud of him. Finally, Flynn spoke, his voice stronger than before, "Thanks, Tron. That was…exactly what I needed to hear."
2009
I
"I don't care what Ram said!" Sam growled, pacing around the deck of the solar surfer. "We have to save Dad!"
Quorra watched him nervously, hoping he wasn't planning on doing anything too rash. Even though she didn't want to agree with Ram—who had given Sam Flynn's disc before the attack just in case anything bad happened—she had to admit he was right. As much as she cared about Flynn, she knew it was important to get Sam to the portal and out of here…where he could potentially erase Clu from the outside…
Wait, she thought, unable to fully process what was happening. If we erase Clu from the outside, and Flynn is still in here…he'll never survive the event. He'll…die.
Thinking back on all of the books Flynn had her read over the long, lonely cycles they spent together—not listening to a word Sam was saying anymore—she realized that Sam, and not the program (who had tried to kill Flynn for user's sake) was right. "Alright, you're right!" she exclaimed, ready and willing to fight for the User who had saved her life. "We'll find your dad, and then we'll get out and erase Clu."
Sam just smiled—clearly happy to once again have her on his side—and asked, "So…what do we do? I mean…do you know where…"
He didn't get to finish his thought, and Quorra didn't get to even think of an answer, not that she really knew what to do, not when she was fairly certain Clu would be holding Flynn somewhere in his command ship. Because out of the gray haze shot a light jet with…white circuitry. Ram? Quorra thought, amazed that the little program had survived a fight with Rinzler. He just won't go off line, will he?
As soon as he was overtop the solar surfer, Ram de-rezzed the light jet and landed easily on his feet on the deck. It was hard not to notice the haunted expression on his face—he almost looks like he's seen a (what's it called) ghost, she thought worriedly. His eyes were wild, darting nervously in every direction and, when he finally spoke, his voice cracked even though his words were brave, "A'ight…time to get ya to the portal."
Clearly sensitivity wasn't one of Sam's strong points, because the User just snarled, ignoring that Ram was clearly shaken, "We're not going to the portal. We're going to save my dad. And if you don't want to help, that's fine. But don't try to stop us."
"Are you glitching?" Ram shot back, staring at the User in disbelief, a furious look on his face. "Ya can't just walk into Clu's command ship! Not if you want to live!"
"He's my dad," Sam argued, stalking over to where the little program stood to loom over him in what was, Quorra could tell, an attempt at intimidating him. "And you don't leave your family behind. We're on the same team! I can't just…" For a moment, Sam paused, studying Ram intently, before adding, "But you wouldn't understand that."
"You think I don't get it?" Ram growled, the haunted look in his eyes replaced with one of sheer anguish. "Ya don't know half of what I've been through, half of what I've done just to…fight…"
Before he could continue, Quorra interfered; she knew she had to because she could tell that Ram was shattering right in front of her. Taking him by the shoulders—she was surprised that he didn't resist, didn't offer some quip that he could take care of himself—she led him gently away from Sam before asking the question she knew had to be asked: "What happened back there?"
II
All of his fight had left him. Normally, Ram would have pushed Quorra away, muttering something along the lines of "just 'cause I'm an actuarial program doesn't mean I can't take care of myself," but he couldn't. He could still see the explosion, could see the End of Line blowing up…with his best friend still inside. He had known what Tron was planning when he left, knew he was going to drop a light grenade and take the Black Guard with him. And he had ran, abandoning him to…save himself. What kind of a program am I? he thought bitterly as he let Quorra wrap her arm around his shoulders, let her sit him down on the deck of the solar surfer.
Sighing deeply, he relented and rested his head on Quorra's shoulder. Why does she care about me? he had to wonder, watching a perplexed—his pride's got wounded, he almost chuckled—out of the corner of his eye. Why do I matter when a User needs help? "What happened to you?" Quorra's voice tore Ram from his thoughts, and he was actually fairly shocked by the question, by the fact she even thought to ask. Because he could tell she was asking a general question…not just about what had just happened. She really…cares about me, he thought, allowing himself to hope for only a moment before allowing his distrusting side to take hold of him once more. Or else…she just wants something like everyone else…
"You have no idea," he replied weakly, well aware there was no turning back now…