Title: Firewall Pairing: Tron/Female
Series: Tron; Legacy Rating: T Type: Fanfiction
Summary: Set after the events in cyberspace at the close of Tron; Legacy. Finally shaking free of the Rinzler persona forced upon him, Tron seeks to correct the mistakes he made when he turned his back on the user, his friend, Kevin Flynn...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Tron characters or anything from the universe of Tron. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to the makers of Tron for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the actual franchise. Enjoy.
I fight for the users.
All was darkness as Tron sank further and further into the deep abyss of the data stream.
Tron… a small thought fired in the back of his mind, all these years; wasted.
A burn hissed at his back as his data disc began to whir into life and he remembered…
He was of the original system. He was brought over to the new grid by his friend, the human User; Kevin Flynn.
I am Tron, he thought again of the final battle he had faced in defence of his friend… Where Kevin Flyns creation, Clue, had ambushed them in a bid to take over control and create the perfect system… where Tron had fought and died, only to be reprogrammed into a traitor…
I am Tron, his limbs felt like lead.
It made his will all the stronger.
He wouldn't end like this; he wouldn't end while he was known as something else; something that fought all hopes of freedom and oppressed fellow programmes.
I am Tron, he strained against weight of his own, abused body, not Rinzler… I am TRON!
And with that, blue, free energy fired through his veins and systems, forcing his limbs into action as he fought the current.
The darkness was crushing, squeezing at his body until dots of coloured light floated in his vision and, in the back of his mind, Tron knew he was already far too deep.
He had come to his senses too late. And this would be his end… again… in failure.
Barely a few moments away from de-resolution, through the final moments of panic, the light faded and the depth of the data stream stretched onto nothing. Tron regretted his weakness; to have lived so long as Rinzler. To have helped destroy what he was meant to protect. Perhaps this is what he deserved.
And, before he gave in to the terrible weight that pushed on him, Trons eye focused on the hazy light that shone through the waters.
He registered the vague feeling of a hand gripping his and then the sensation of being dragged upward through the current.
Then all was darkness.
Light… Tron processed as his thoughts came into comprehensible data… there is light.
There was also warmth and the soft feel of fabric under and around him.
Tron vaguely wondered if he had reached the next level… but then the ache in his muscles dragged him down and he found that even the act of breathing became a struggle.
"You must remain still," a soft voice urged him from beyond his field of vision, "Your system is undergoing a purge. Looks like your subroutines are kicking out an invading programme."
Tron shifted his eyes down and noted the misty light which surrounded him… he was himself once more and went to reach for his disc…
"Looking for this?" A delicate hand produced a data disc above his face, wiggling it slightly for emphasis. "Don't worry. You can have it back when the process is finished."
Tron felt his lips twitch. But he was unable to move… or speak.
"You are quite an interesting programme," the light voice commented as the disc was withdrawn, "I found you, almost de-rezzed in the depths of the data stream. I've never known any programme survive that far down… you must be pretty robust. Nice buffers."
He felt the purge complete as the light faded back into his body and Tron stretched his legs, feeling each millimetre protest at the action. He was unable to repress the groan as he finally sat upright.
"Hi," a bright face beamed, as the owner of the voice moved toward him, "this is yours."
When Tron blinked, his eyes focused on his data disc then narrowed on the stranger.
She was a short, sort of programme, wearing a cobalt body suit that flowed with blue, crystal energy. She was of the Users… not created by Clue who could only destroy another programme, stealing their identity and skill and then alter their personality.
A wave of bitterness overtook Tron as he thought of how Clue had betrayed his friend and his own creator, Kevin Flynn. Then he shook with barely suppressed rage as he thought of how Clue had re-conditioned him by stripping all the ideals instilled into him by the users and installing his own instructions.
Tron swallowed and returned his attention to the woman who seemed to be coolly assessing him with ice blue eyes.
A medical programme, Tron mused, designed to repair those who become damaged? But why was she not on the grid with the others?
She was not athletic but not overweight either. Was she supposed to be this far away from the main grid? There was one certainty… she had a bright smile, which grew larger as Tron continued to study her.
"You can trust me. I'm quite safe."
He reached out and took his data disc, eying it with uncertainty.
"Hmmm… I did just save you from de-resolution, programme. You could be a little more grateful."
Still unable to speak, for whatever reason, Tron cast a glance around the apartment he was in.
It was a basic, smooth room; filled with clear lines, soft tones and few comforts. There appeared to be little recreational space and Tron could only discern two other rooms beyond the one which they were in. He assumed one was a rest room and the other was a cleaning facility.
"It's not much," the woman smiled at him, "but then, I'm not here very much and I don't have visitors very often… which is probably why I am babbling at you right now." She moved to the large window and indicated to the dark terrain beyond, "You're quite a ways from home you see. Only a few programmes, like me, are designed to function so far off the main grid; which is why I'm here, incidentally, in case anyone gets lost out there."
She moved back to him then, the security codes in Trons programming couldn't help but jerk at the assessed threat… however, she seemed more excited than threatening.
"I'm Sara," she smiled, moving within comfortable distance of Tron and sitting herself on the bed beside him, "Search and Rescue application. I'm designed to seek out and restore programmes that find their way out here. Sometimes that means patching them up but most of the time I just ship them back."
She took his disc from him, putting Tron back on-edge, and, flipping it over in her hands, activated his I.D codex.
"And you're Tron…" she smiled, looking up to him, "security and protective programme. You're designed to go off-grid too. Maybe we have more in common than I first thought."
As passively as he could, Tron reached out and took back his disc, replacing it on his holster and feeling the data connection fire.
It was good to be himself again.
Sara looked intently at him… until he shrugged at her…
"Still can't talk, huh?" Sara asked, sweeping her eyes over his frame, "looked to me like you were rebooting to initial settings. Impressive settings. Do you remember much of what happened to you before you came back on-line here?"
He remembered plenty but erred on the side of caution and shrugged, helplessly at her.
"I saw that battle you were having up there. It looked pretty intense," she said, "no wonder you're finding it hard to access your memory files."
Trons eyes snapped to hers in alarm. He wondered how many others had seen his betrayal of the User; Kevin Flynn.
But Sara remained oblivious to the ache he felt in his heart. She simply smiled and gently said, "How about I resonate some sustenance and you can recharge your energy cells so that, when you're able to talk… you can tell me all about it."
She patted his gloved hand with care and left then, pressing a panel on the wall as she moved to another room.
The floor at Trons feet withdrew, gliding away to reveal a bright pool of energy that lapped about the space like water.
For a moment, Tron felt suspicious but Sara had disappeared, leaving him to his recuperation.
Looking about, Tron removed his data disc and, slipping out of the skin of his uniform, he sank his battered body into the rich liquid, allowing himself to sink his weight and be supported.
Tomorrow, the next battle would come. But for now… he rested.