Please read: Here's the last chapter (don't worry there is an epilogue as well). Enjoy - and check out the author's note at the end.
Twenty Seven
1985
I
He had found a friend in the bottle, and, man, did it feel good. The more he drank, the more he was able to forget, and forgetting was what he needed to do. He figured if he could forget his pain and his sorrow it would eventually just cease to exist and he could finally get on with the life he had been leading…before. He knew even then that logic wouldn't hold up as soon as he was sober, but that realization didn't stop him from opening another Bud. Forgetting for a little while was good enough for him.
Before he could take the first sip of his third bottle, his phone rang. Grumbling under his breath how it was rude to interrupt his "party," he picked it up and was met by Alan's anxious (and fairly angry) voice, "Flynn, are you planning on picking up Sam anytime soon?"
Right…he was supposed to pick up Sam at Alan's. How did I forget that? he wondered only for a moment before the beer bottle in his hand answered the question for him. Collecting himself, he replied, "Yup. Sorry, man, I totally lost track of time. I'll be right over, I swear."
"Have you been drinking?"
As usual, there was no accusation in Alan's voice; it was just filled with sympathy, something that annoyed the hell out of him. "What's it matter to you, man?" he growled impulsively, more angry about his tone than his question.
"Flynn…" Alan's voice was heavy, frustrated. He hated it, hearing him sound like that helped him to remember things he didn't want to. "I can't have you driving…with Sam in the car when you're drunk. Don't get offended, alright?"
Offended? What right did he honestly have to be offended? Beginning to feel deflated, he decided to turn again to the bottle, hoping it would lift his spirits and help him form an adequate response. All he came up with was what he blurted out seconds later: "Oh come on, man! Back when I was in college, I used…"
"Look," Alan cut him off quickly, which wasn't unexpected but still pissed him off (not that there was anything he could do about it, he knew he really didn't have a leg to stand on), "I can't let you drive with Sam in the car when you're drunk, alright? He can just stay for the night. It's fine. Don't worry about it."
He didn't answer that—didn't fucking feel like it—and, after a moment of awkward silence, Alan hastily said goodbye and hung up. Instead of hanging up, he found himself listening to the dial tone, wondering when everything fell apart and how it had.
Oh yeah, he remembered. And with that, he dropped the phone and chugged his third beer of the night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the bottle would make all his pain go away…
…and when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and no clue where his son was, he blamed the friend that had turned out to be an enemy after all.
II
It had been a week since he last went to the Grid, and, even though he had been working to cut back on his drinking as much as possible, he didn't want to go back just yet. He couldn't face his own creation, not yet, not after what had happened. Going back there a day before the funeral had been a mistake, and he wasn't about to go down that dangerous road again because he figured he would do something stupid. Admittedly, talking to Tron had helped, and he knew that Jordan wouldn't want him to sit around and mope for the rest of his life. But still…
In the Grid he was essentially a god, but in his own world he was just an ordinary human being at the whim of whatever force was out there. He would be the first to admit he wasn't the most religious man in the world, but he still believed firmly that some things were just outside of the control of people…and, even though it hurt to admit it now, he knew it was supposed to be that way. Which was why he couldn't go back to the Grid where he could control over such things, where he had powers no human should have…
Damn it, I need a drink, he thought bitterly as he got up from the couch to get his first beer of the night out of the fridge. If I keep thinking like this, I'll never go back there.
III
He wasn't really surprised by the reaction of the two programs when he walked into the complex. In Grid time, he had been gone for so long after all, and he figured they had probably begun to believe he was never coming back. Upon seeing him, Clu, clearly trying to keep his composure to no avail, rushed over and, with a oh-what-the-hell kind of smile on his face, hugged him. "I knew you would come back!" his program exclaimed after he pulled away, turning only to shoot Tron a smug smile.
Tron, as usual, was more reserved even though he could see the excitement (and relief) in his eyes. He just shook his hand and quickly asked the question he expected he would but was hoping he wouldn't, "Good to have you back, Flynn. Everything's okay now, right?"
"Yeah, man, I just needed some time off, that's all," he replied quickly, hoping the monitor would get the message and realize that now wasn't the time to talk about his problems. If I start talking—or even thinking—about Jordan, this stay won't be very long, he thought as he changed the subject: "So, what'd I miss?"
With a wide smile on his face that almost made him laugh, Clu burst into a long, detailed report of everything that had happened while he was MIA, clearly beyond thrilled to be able to discuss topics relating to his function after so long. And, honestly, it was nice to just stand there and listen to Clu prattle on about how everything in the system was running so smoothly, so perfectly—just as he envisioned it.
His program was just going through some numbers when the front door swung open and in rushed Ram. "Guys, the portal's…" his once exited voice trailed off immediately upon seeing him standing there, alive and well, and he offered an unusually hesitant (and rather sad, he realized with a pang) smile. "Hi, Flynn."
Seeing the little program standing there made him remember. For a moment, he didn't answer; he couldn't because his mind was reeling, torn between feeling sympathy for the program he had screamed at, basically telling him his life didn't matter, and wondering why in the hell programs were allowed second chances and not people. When he looked up from the floor, he saw that Tron was staring at him, concern in his eyes, and Clu just looked…it couldn't be that was a triumphant, smug grin on his face, could it? Forcing himself to focus on Ram—who looked even more concerned than Tron (an open book as always)—he managed what he figured was nothing more than a pained half smile. "Hey, Ram. Good to see you, man."
"You too," Ram replied stiffly, nervously glancing over at Tron who, to his surprise, just shook his head. What's wrong with them? he wondered, beginning to feel indignant even though he was well aware that he was to blame for the actuary's reaction.
Sighing deeply, he collected himself, remembering that they were programs (and not people) and that was why they had different rules. Besides, I can't blame Ram for anything, he thought. He didn't ask for me to bring him back, after all. So he pushed aside his dark thoughts, pushed aside his memories of the loved one he couldn't save, and actually managed a genuine smile.
Without a second thought, he walked over to where Ram stood and wrapped him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he said softly after the actuary tentatively returned it. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did. I was just angry, and I took it out on you."
After breaking off the hug, Ram just smiled, a relieved look in his eyes that was unmistakable. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're okay and things are gonna go back to normal," he said simply.
If only, he thought ruefully even as he smiled encouragingly, even as he exclaimed that they needed to tell him what they'd been up to lately. Things will never be normal again…I just have to accept it…
2009
I
"I have to go back."
The realization hit him, and Flynn just said it aloud, not really caring what Quorra or Sam thought because he knew he had to do this deep down in his very soul. As soon as he had returned to his world, he had accessed the computer and tried to delete Clu only to find out that he had already been deleted. It was then he knew, but he checked anyway and found that Ram (remarkably) and Tron were both still alive. And, after trying to access Ram's file to fix him up (something he knew the little program needed desperately) he found that he couldn't, as was expected given the actuary didn't have a disc on him. After determining he couldn't help from the outside, he knew what he had to do.
"What?" Sam exclaimed, a stunned expression on his face that almost made him flinch. And then he laughed hesitantly, clearly wanting to believe he was joking, and added incredulously, "Why the hell would you want to go back there?"
How could he explain to his son—who probably believes I'm abandoning him again, he realized with a pang—why he needed to go back? He was about to answer, but Quorra beat him to it, a hopeful smile on her face, "You're going back to help Ram, aren't you?"
Well, I wasn't going to explain it like that, but that will have to do, Flynn thought as he cleared his throat and then replied, "The kid deserves a little, don't you think? And I can't access his coding out here, probably because he lost his identity disc. So I need to go back and see what I can do…" Seeing the wounded look on Sam's face, he paused, trying to determine how he could assure him that this wasn't a goodbye. "I won't be gone long. I promise."
Sam just stared at him for a moment, the wounded look on his face quickly transforming to one of anger. "Is this some fucking joke to you? You're safe! Why the hell would you go back there?"
"If it wasn't for Ram, we wouldn't be here, Sam," Quorra replied evenly, shooting him what he could tell was an approving smile. "Besides, I'll be going with him, so I'll make sure he's…"
"You're not coming with me, Q," Flynn said firmly before turning to Sam and adding, "And neither are you Sam…I'm sorry. This is something I have to do."
Before his son or the ISO could interfere, he accessed the laser and initiated his digitization…
II
It was crazy, to be sure, but Tron was running out of options. At the least, there would be precious supplies there to buy Ram more time, at the most, well…he didn't really believe much in miracles anymore. Glancing anxiously over at the little program—that was huddled in the jacket in the seat next to him—he knew he didn't have much time to waste agonizing over where to go. So he landed the light jet (the three-man he had founded parked at the portal) in front of a building he hadn't entered in so long: Flynn's. To keep himself from growling at the thought of the name of the enemy (he's your friend! he reminded himself angrily), he turned his attention back to Ram and said softly, "It's going to be okay, bud. I'll figure something out."
The words felt empty as he gently pulled the actuary out of his seat after opening the door to Flynn's. Even as he carried Ram into the building—hoping there would be something (anything) there that would help him—Tron knew it was no good; the pulsating was impossible to ignore causing the reality of the situation to dawn on him: he could only buy the actuary time and couldn't possibly save him. Still, he had to try…didn't he? After all, wasn't he a lost cause who had been saved?
"Tron?" Torn from his dark thoughts, he almost dropped Ram in shock at the sound of a too familiar voice calling his name. When he collected himself, Tron looked up from the little program to see Flynn standing before him and froze immediately. It was almost like he was being torn in two different directions; one side wanting to finish the terrible User (his enemy) off, the other side trying to talk him out of it, reminding him that Flynn was his friend and always had been. Unable to hold back a growl—after all that time, all those cycles as Rinzler, some things couldn't be changed—he somehow managed to reply evenly, "Flynn…Ram needs help."
With those words, Tron laid Ram's still, broken body onto the floor and moved aside for the User—who, he knew, could do more for the poor little program than he could—to take a look. His mind reeling, he watched as Flynn knelt down at Ram's side, looking him over with a sad (it couldn't be, could it?) and helpless expression on his face. While he has so much he wants to say to the User—he was so very close to unleashing all the painful cycles he had endured just because Flynn couldn't listen to anyone but himself or his program—he knew he had to stay focused on Ram. "What's wrong?" he asked stiffly.
Sighing heavily, Flynn responded, "I don't know if there's anything I can do, Tron. Without his disc, I can't fix any of this." He paused, and it was hard for Tron to even look at him, and reached down to pull the jacket tighter around the damaged program. "I…I was hoping you might have found it and didn't put it back on him."
"I don't know where it could possibly be," Tron said nervously, well aware where this conversation was going. He was about to yell at the User, tell him that doing nothing wasn't an option, when he remembered. There are no such things as miracles, he told himself. And Users aren't as all-powerful as you once naively believed.
For a moment, there was only silence. Tron didn't want to feel angry, didn't want to feel betrayed, but he did. A memory surfaced, hidden for so very long, as he watch Flynn take the second to last vial from the jacket and gently pour its contents down Ram's throat. Grappling with the memory, he didn't trust himself to speak but then, when the User didn't say anything, blurted out the question: "If Ram de-rezzes, you won't be able to rewrite him, will you?"
"I was hoping you wouldn't ask," Flynn sighed yet again, looking down at Ram with a look of indescribable sadness on his face. "But I'm not going to lie to you. I can't because I don't have him backed up anywhere. I don't even have his memories backed up, Tron. The last time, Roy gave me his coding and a memory chip, so…he was the same Ram when I rewrote him. If I rewrote him this time…"
A shudder of understanding shook him to his very core, and Tron couldn't help but finish the User's sentence: "He wouldn't be the same Ram."
"Exactly," Flynn murmured, shaking his head as he did. "I wish it wasn't true, but after Jordan died, I made the decision not to back any of you guys up. And, now…damn it, if anybody deserves a second chance it's this guy."
Tron could barely look at Ram at that point—no, he couldn't see past the severe damage on his face, he couldn't see past the fact that his old friend was about to de-rezz (yet again) because of Flynn's stupidity. To keep himself from attacking Flynn, he unhooked the discs from his back and spun then idly, wanting more than anything to escape what was happening. And that was when it hit him: "I have two discs."
"So?" Flynn looked up from Ram to stare at him incredulously.
"Couldn't you erase everything on one of them and then copy Ram onto it?" Based on the look on Flynn's face, Tron assumed his idea was stupid, but he didn't care. They had to try to do something, after all; he couldn't live with himself knowing they had just let Ram de-rezz without even making a single attempt to save him.
"If only it was that simple," Flynn replied miserably, reaching down only to pat Ram on the shoulder. "But, hell, it's worth a shot."
It wouldn't do any good; he knew that then, and he knew he had to get out of there before he did anything drastic…
III
Flynn wasn't surprised when Tron's idea didn't work, but failing to make any difference still tore his heart in two. Pouring the last vial of pure energy down Ram's throat, he realized it was probably time to say his goodbyes to the little program who had so willingly given up his own life to save theirs. Damn it, man, he thought bitterly as he rested his hand on the actuary's limp one. Just because you didn't want to play God anymore, you hurt Ram, and he always believed in you…didn't he?
Honestly, he wouldn't blame the actuary if he had given up all hope in him (and the Users in general, for that matter). But…still…Ram was about to de-rezz, and the only reason he was going to was because he had helped them. Kid probably was only doing it to help the other programs, he realized, a small, sad smile crossing his face. "I'm sorry, Ram," he said finally, trying his best to hold back his tears. "I'm so sorry. If…if I could do it all over again, I would've listened to you, and I would've definitely backed you up."
Silence was all that answered him, and Flynn wished that Tron had stayed. But he understood why the monitor had left on what he knew was a futile mission to find Ram's disc, only based on the fact that Clu must have had it last: he didn't want to see his friend's deresolution. Sighing deeply, he continued, well aware that the actuary couldn't hear him but still feeling the need to talk to him anyway, "Most of all…I'm sorry I treated you like you were just a bunch of lines of code and nothing else. I only did that because…well…after Jordan died, I couldn't accept that you…got a second chance…But…none of that was your fault, and I'm…"
Choking back a harsh sob, Flynn began to cry uncontrollably. Blinded by his tears, he didn't notice that one had slid down his chin and dripped onto Ram's face. He also didn't notice that Ram's nose twitched ever so slightly at the sensation, eyes fluttering a little.
Drip.
When he managed to open his eye, he found his vision was blurry, clouded by his agony. Still…here? he wondered, only dully surprised because, well, he had seen it all.
Drip.
It was still raining—a system sad to see him go crying to wash away his sins. But…that didn't make sense. Even though he was damaged and completely unaware of where he was, how he had gotten there and how in the name of the Users he was still alive, he could tell he was inside. And then he realized someone was kneeling over him but…it couldn't be could it?
"Flynn?"
A small, ragged voice tore Flynn from his thoughts, and he stared down at the actuary in wonder. Ram stared back at him in equal wonder (and even more disbelief) and continued in a pained, halting whimper: "You came…back…for me?"
"Yeah, of course," Flynn answered, trying to hide the sadness in his voice the best he could as he squeezed Ram's hand. He stopped when Ram didn't squeeze his hand back—he can't even accomplish the most basic of functions, he realized with a pang—because he didn't trust himself to say anything more.
"Ya…glitching?" Ram wheezed—or was it a chuckle? Flynn couldn't tell, but based on the mischievous glint in the program's otherwise foggy eye it was meant to be a chuckle. For a moment, he was convinced the actuary was going to continue, but he didn't; instead, he just let out a low whimper of pain.
"Ram…" How could he possibly explain to Ram that he couldn't do anything to save him? How could he possibly apologize for all the pain he caused him in his life? His processors were whirring unhealthily, his circuits dully flickering, his good eye growing more and more unfocused and fogged with each passing moment. He didn't have much time left to say what he needed to say. So he weakly chuckled in response and then said, trying to keep himself from crying, "No, I'm not glitching. I just…I'm sorry, Ram. I'm sorry I acted like you were just a program and never listened to you, and I'm sorry I didn't back you up…I just…after Jordan…"
Ram couldn't move, or he would have squeezed Flynn's hand back. The pain was worse than before, which was saying something, and he could feel his coding crumbling away. It was almost over—which at that point, was more of a relief than anything—and he managed to smile at the User because he could tell he meant what he was saying. Besides, he had known all along he hadn't been backed up, so he didn't feel betrayed. Just…happy to know Flynn actually cared. "Flynn…" he rasped, gathering the last of his strength to be able to speak. "All…of us…die. What…matters is what…we do before. It's…okay."
"Ram…" Flynn's voice trailed off again, and, as the fog completely filled his vision, he could barely make out the User was crying…Ram would have told him to stop, but he was in too much pain and couldn't waste words repeating what he had just essentially said, couldn't even whimper in pain. No…he had to save his strength to be able to make his one last request…that was all that mattered now anyway…
"Flynn," Ram swallowed, his voice cracking with pain, when he didn't finish his thought. "Take…care of…everyone for…me, alright?"
"Alright," Flynn replied, smiling down at the program, hoping the promise would somehow comfort him. It was all he could do at that point, and he couldn't help but cry as Ram's circuits flickered weakly twice before going dark, as his good eye slipped closed once more, as a smile crossed his gaunt, damaged face…about to de-rezz once again…and, yet, somehow clearly at peace with everything…
Drip.
Drip.
It wasn't raining. The User was crying. The pain was too great, he could hardly think anymore. Data fragmenting, coding crumbling, it was over, wasn't it? Not a false alarm? Not just a forced shut down? They'd do alright without him, he knew that now. Besides, he was free. Smiling…he slipped away into the blackness, crumbling into nothingness…finally set free from all his pain…
"Goodbye, kid," Flynn murmured as he watched Ram's slight form shatter before his eyes, his pixels cascading to the ground, mirroring the movement of his blinding tears…
A/N: (please read): Hey all! I put this at the bottom b/c I didn't want to give the ending away. Wasn't it a long chapter lol? Anyway...I hope you enjoyed this story (I know I really enjoyed writing it). This isn't the end because there still is an epilogue but I figured I'd put this here. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, the story in general and the characters. I really want to know what you thought of the ending and the story as a whole. I really appreciate hearing from you and since it's basically over I'm hoping to get some feedback. So please review and, once again, I hope you all enjoyed it (even though the ending was sad). ~Moore12~