Hi, all! This is the second to last chapter (don't worry, there will be an epilogue as well). As you noticed, it's all in the present...and it's important so pay attention lol. So please enjoy and please tell me what you think! I love hearing from you, and my reviewers helped keep this story alive. Anyway...enjoy this chapter and R&R! ~Moore12~

Twenty Five

2009

I

Now he'd done it. Even though his processors were running far slower than normal—and the calculations that had kept him alive for so long were getting harder to make—Ram knew he'd done it. Clu had that look in his eyes, that look of not being able to even begin to calculate how to solve a problem. It was that glazed look of confusion, of horror that any program got when asked to solve a problem they couldn't possibly solve based on their programming, a look he had seen many times in his past. And it would hopefully buy the others some time…

As for him, he was just beginning to process that this was probably the end of line for him after all. He could feel data fragmenting, slipping out of all the holds Flynn had placed in him when he "fixed" him the first time after he stupidly ran the light jet into Clu. Not that this was Flynn's fault, he knew; no, the guard punching him hadn't helped matters, knew deep down inside that he was just an outdated actuarial program anyway that, in the end, couldn't take all this abuse. But…still…he wasn't about to quit when he had just gained the advantage, so he quipped even as his CPU pounded, protesting the initiation of his command, "You're not perfect. Never were. Never will be."

Maybe he had pushed just a little too far because the look on Clu's face changed to one of pure hatred. Well, Ram, you really are glitching, he thought, snickering weakly. You pressed your luck when the odds probably weren't good… Before he could really process what was happening—because, well, everything was happening admittedly too fast for him—Clu had shoved him against the device, a wild, cruel look in his eyes he had seen only once before.

"How about you calculate the odds you're going to live through this for me, Ramster," he snarled even though there was a hint of laughter in his voice that Ram figured had something to do with how crazy he was getting…all because of him. Well, you did it, he thought, relief flooding through him even as the device whirred to life. He's glitching, and that's good for…

Pain. So much pain. He couldn't even finish his thought; the moment the device was up and running, there was only pain. He hardly even was aware that he had started howling because pain made up his entire existence. Prompts were screaming at him to move, to struggle at the least, but the functions they were trying to reach were slowly being wiped away. More pain. His vision beginning to fog over—a small, whimpering sob escaped him—he prayed for the first time in cycles…

…dear User please…make it stop…

Data fragmenting…slipping with ease out of the holds Flynn had placed…his coding being ripped apart…pain…so much pain…everything that made him the program he was slipping away…He didn't care at that point what happened to him; he just wanted the pain to stop, for everything to be over. CPU throbbing with pain, a final thought: it'll all be over soon.

Part of him was aware of the laughter in the background the entire time, and then it stopped. And then—to his vague amazement, he was, after all, hardly able to think—the device shuddered to a stop as well. But, really, it meant very little to him; his knees gave out, his circuits sparked painfully, his head hit the ground yet again…Pain. So much pain.

And as he slipped to the ground, he realized his prayer had been answered…just a little too late.

II

He wasn't perfect? His plan wasn't perfect? Trapped in the logic loop that pathetic excuse of a program (even if he was a near glitching perfect actuary) placed him in, the only thing Clu could do was laugh. Laugh at the madness of it all—how could he of all programs not be perfect?—laugh at the viral's screaming as his functions were slowly and painfully absorbed. It didn't matter what Ram thought, he told himself. Because he's about to finally be de-rezzed anyway.

But still…the doubt lingered, straining his processors as his CPU futilely tried to calculate how imperfection had crept into the plan he had been perfecting for so damn long. Wanting to scream himself, Clu turned his attention back to Ram to keep himself from continuing down that dangerous path. He would enjoy his triumph over that stupid pest that always laughed in deresolution's face. Well who's laughing now? he thought, holding back a wild smile the best he could. And this is just the beginning of my triumph.

Just when Ram had fallen silent aside from the occasional whimper (signaling his imminent demise, he knew), everything stopped. It was almost like all of the energy had been sucked out of the room instantly—the lights flickered and went out, the device whirred to a stop, causing Ram to slump to the ground—and all he could do was turn and face down the only occupant in the system who could do such a thing.

What he saw was enough to nearly convince him that maybe, just maybe, his plan wasn't perfect. Because his "creator" had somehow managed to free himself even after he had taken great pains to make sure that would never happen. But there wasn't time for him to try to calculate how it had happened; no, he had to make sure that he restored everything to the way it was before…and protect the disc he had in his possession, the disc he could still use to change everything if he got to the portal first…

Before he could even attempt to flee—even the most basic of commands were more difficult to follow because he was still stuck in that irritating logic loop—a pulse of energy sent him careening into the back wall, causing the disc that mattered more than anything else to skitter away from him. When he managed to pry open his eyes, well aware that everything he had worked so hard for was falling apart right before him, he saw that Flynn had somehow helped his son and the female program escape, and the female was rushing towards where the disc lay on the ground. He couldn't let her get it, and he was in the process of hauling himself to his feet he realized something that only added insult to his injury—she was an ISO. But…but I eliminated them all! he thought wildly, unhooking his identity disc as he scrambled to his feet. But…

Maybe Ram was right after all, he thought as he flung himself towards the disc, well aware if he didn't secure it, it would be all over for him and his perfect—yes, yes it is perfect, he told himself—plan. But…that can't be. Can it?

III

"You'll need this," Gem said softly, handing him a small case containing five vials of pure energy. "Take one if you feel like your system is running slower than it should."

Only nodding in response, Tron took the vials and stuffed them into a pocket of the jacket he was wearing to conserve as much energy as possible. After she handed him a light jet baton, she added, clearly trying to hide the concern in her voice, "I know you said that you wanted to go alone, but if you ever need any backup, there are some rebels…"

Trailing off most likely due to his lack of response, they stood there in an awkward silence for a long moment; he didn't trust her and wasn't about to give away any of his plans, after all. Finally, he decided it would be best to say goodbye and get on his way, but Gem continued: "Look, Tron, Castor may have been on Clu's side, but that was only because he wanted to gain more influence so he could help the programs, alright? And you can say the same of me: I honestly don't care about Flynn or the new User but if they're the only ones who can save us, I'll stand by them. So…if you think this is all some trap, it's not."

Tron did his best to smile at the siren but found he couldn't. Thankfully, he managed to suppress the growl he felt rumbling underneath the surface. He didn't care about the politics. He honestly didn't even stop to wonder whether or not this all was some big trap. All he cared about was finding his true self in the mess of written over coding he was, and he knew destroying Clu would be the end of his long and painful life as Rinzler. And—deep inside, buried underneath Clu's modifications, obscured by all the error messages he kept encountering—he heard it. It was faint, and he couldn't make out the words, but he heard it, heard it for the first time in so long.

And then it was gone, and his CPU scrambled to remember but encountered another error message instead. Knowing he couldn't wait anymore, he said goodbye to Gem and left without another word.

The light jet rezzing around him, he shot into the sky, straining to hear it again because he knew it was important, knew it defined his previous existence, knew it…

Error.

Somehow, someway, he would find freedom again; that was all he knew for sure…

Error – or was it?

IV

If anybody believed in second chances, it was Flynn. Watching as Clu struggled to his feet only to lunge towards his disc, he didn't feel angry or even betrayed. Only moments ago, he had wanted to destroy Clu—make him pay for all the pain and suffering he had caused in a system that had been better than he could have ever imagined—but now he only felt sympathy for him. In that one moment he was almost able to forget Clu's crimes and see him only as the misguided…son he had created, but it only took one look at Ram's crumpled form to remind him what Clu really was.

Still, he had created Clu to build the perfect system and, man, had the program tried his best, even if his view was extremely warped. What the hell is wrong with you, man? he wondered as he watched Quorra secure the disc. You've already made too many mistakes to make that one…

They had to get out of there before he did something stupid; he was well aware of that now. Ripping a chute off the back of one of the damaged guards, Flynn yelled, "Party's over! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Sam, who had secured his own chute, got the message and, de-rezzing a guard, rushed to the window. Quorra clearly didn't though, which didn't surprise Flynn at all even though she had the disc that held the key to the world's future. Instead of retreating to get the hell out of there before Clu called for backup, she had run over to help Ram who, he could tell even from where he was standing, couldn't be saved at this point. Unfortunately we don't have time, he thought sadly, yelling at her to get over there immediately. I'd have to find his disc—and I don't know where the hell Clu put it—and it would take awhile for me to fix all the damage…let alone for him to reboot properly. And I can't let Quorra sacrifice herself for some program…

Before he could do anything, Clu was up again—the kid really won't quit, will he? he thought dryly—and rushing towards Quorra, his disc a deadly blur. Without even thinking, Flynn fired another energy pulse into his program to buy them some more time…

And, as he watched Quorra kneel at Ram's side, he remembered what he had told the little program what felt like ages ago and believed it fully for the first time.

V

"Go."

She almost didn't hear him, and, for a micro, she wanted to believe she hadn't. Staring down at the little program's face—she almost couldn't bear to because the ugly mess of scars on the right side of his face was back (clearly all the fixes Flynn had done hadn't held up to the torture he had been put through)—Quorra wanted more than anything to believe she wasn't seeing what she was seeing. "Ram…" her voice trailed off because she didn't know what she could possibly say to make any of this better; no, she knew nothing she said would help at this point.

"It's…ok." Ram's voice was barely a whisper, and she had to get closer to make out what he was trying to say. "You…got to."

"No," Quorra replied firmly, glancing over her shoulder to see Clu struggling to get back to his feet, something she thought he wouldn't be doing for a few more micros after being hit by that blast of energy. "I-I can't."

"Quorra!" she heard Flynn yell, but she didn't want to listen to him; she didn't want to run away and hide when that's what she had been doing for most of her life. Why does he seem to think I matter more than he does? she thought even as she tried to calculate how she could possibly save Ram. That doesn't make any sense…

So she didn't get up to obediently return the disc to her mentor, instead reaching down to try to pick up Ram. But, to her surprise, the little program pushed her away, a defiant glitter in his remaining eye she had seen many times.

"Ya…glitching?" he asked weakly, a small smirk forming on his gaunt face that made her smile even though it also made her feel as if she was being torn apart pixel by pixel. And then he added, his voice cracking as he did, "Ya got…t-to go. Now."

Her mind racing, she still tried to figure out a solution even though she knew, deep down inside, that Ram was right. Based on the damage he had sustained, he wouldn't last long, and they had to get to the portal to make sure Clu and his army of repurposed programs couldn't get out. The disc she was holding was the only thing that was ensuring the User world's survival, and she couldn't let that fall into Clu's hands again. And, based on the small smile and the hopefulness in his eyes, Ram felt exactly the same way.

"Ram, I'm sorry," Quorra whispered, reaching down to take the little program by the hand for only a moment. "I-I…"

"Don't…be," he only murmured in response, cutting her off and gently pulling his hand away. "Now go."

And she went without another thought even though every fiber of her being protested her decision, decrying her for her cowardice and selfishness even though she still was all too aware it was the right (and only) thing she could do.

VI

With a crash, Sam launched himself through the window, holding on to a nearly unresponsive Quorra for dear life, his dad right behind. His adrenaline pumping—he could still almost see himself de-rezzing guard after guard after his dad managed to free himself by wiggling out of his restraints—he managed a soft landing and then spun around to check on his dad who just pointed at a light jet that was parked nearby.

"Let's go!" Sam exclaimed, wanting more than anything in the world right then to get the hell out of this place before anything else crazy happened. "We're almost there! Just a little further!"

He didn't think he could possibly be surprised by anything anymore (no, not after everything he had been through) but he couldn't help but chuckle in amazement when his dad just punched a guard in the face to get the program to let them take the light jet. Despite that, he didn't feel truly safe until they were off the ground, and his dad steered them out of the rectifier and off to the portal that would save them…and let him have his father back after all the years.

Sam was about to start talking about everything they were going to do as soon as they got back—they, after all, had a lot of catching up to do—when something stopped him. An uncomfortable, painful silence seemed to have descended on the ISO and his dad, and, for whatever reason, he didn't trust himself to break it. So they sat like that for what felt like ages, nobody saying anything at all, until the portal came into sight.

"Quorra," his dad said softly, his voice filled with pain (which Sam didn't understand because wasn't he about to go home? shouldn't he be happy about that?), "I'm sorry. There was nothing…"

"It doesn't matter now," Quorra replied, cutting him off before he could even finish his thought. And then she added, her voice wavering, "What's done is…done."

"It shouldn't have happened," his dad continued, acting almost as if the ISO had never spoken. For a moment, he fell silent as he piloted the light jet to the ground. When he spoke again, his voice was high and angry and clearly wasn't directed at Quorra: "Goddamn it, Ram! Why'd you have to go and do that?"

Sam never liked silence, and this silence was especially weighty and pain filled. He could almost feel himself tearing up even though he had hardly known the little program. The guy gave his life for us, he thought, watching his dad and Quorra's reflections in the light jet's windshield. He really did. Finally, Quorra broke the silence, a resolute, though miserable, look in her eyes. "He thought it was right," she offered, a small smile tracing her lips. "Now…let's go so it's not all in vain."

VII

He couldn't let this happen. Not after everything that had happened, not after he had finally found away to save everything he cared about. He couldn't. Even though his CPU screamed in protest, even though all of his processors were slowly and steadily failing, he couldn't just lay there while everything fell apart yet again before his eyes.

Biting his lip to keep from howling because of the brutal pain, he managed to push himself to his knees before he collapsed again. Please, he thought miserably, the pain fogging his vision, making his circuits flicker wildly. Please…I got to…finish…what I started.

Prompts issued futile commands to functions that couldn't possibly initiate, let alone carry out what was normally so simple…His CPU raced, trying to find a solution, any solution, that would help him complete the only objective that had survived over the last 20 years…The pixels around his damaged eye flaked slowly away, reminding him what was happening, that he couldn't escape it this time.

He also knew he couldn't live with himself if he let this happen. If you…don't do this, you're as glitching…worthless as he said, he told himself, trying to, through sheer will, force himself to his feet. You knew…there was a…0% chance you'd…make it. So…go out with a bang.

Smirking his class smirk—you'll teach…him to think…before he messes with you—Ram forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth in pain. This isn't over, he reminded himself as he, on badly shaking legs, limped to where a guard's discarded light jet baton lay, just begging him to come and take it. He's…not going to win this time.

Rezzing the light jet around him and managing not to scream in pain, he shot off in the direction Clu had gone, remembering how wildly the admin had been laughing as he went, using it to fuel his rage. He…thinks it's…over, he thought, keeping the smirk on his face. But…it's not…