Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beck's every sense was on alert. His wide brown eyes darted back and forth behind the dark visor of the helmet that closely encapsulated the contours of his face, all processes on edge and circuits tense as he crouched and readied himself for the next attack. The young program was decked out in the sleek white battle armor of the Renegade, Tron's distinctive T-shaped emblem of square circuits emblazoning his chest. His shoulder and knee ached where Tron had caught him off guard one too many times and smashed him into the floor of the training room. Beck knew he should have reacted sooner, but had serious doubts that a program such as himself was even written with reflexes capable of that kind of speed. Tron had watched him get up with scorn and barked, "Let's go again, and focus this time!" as if repetition would change the laws of physics. And go again they did. It seemed they had been going at it for an eternity.

The training room was running a simulation of Purgos, the twisting back alleys of inner-city Argon where they had once tracked down Beck's identity disk after it had been stolen. He knew that Tron had chosen this simulation to force him to confront his insecurities and the jumbled memories he associated with the place. The graphics that the training room program used to render environments weren't quite as detailed as the real thing, but close enough to get lost in. Neglected, claustrophobic spaces were stacked and crowded together in a dank and disordered urban sprawl that teetered on the edge of deresolution. A single yellow light guttered somewhere above him, casting long shadows that played tricks on his eyes. Soft rain fell in the areas open to the sky, making surfaces reflective and misleading. In this simulation he didn't just have to look out for Tron, he had to be on guard for the computer's VR riff-raff as well. Fortunately, the computer could be relatively predictable. Tron, however...

He caught a fluid movement in the shadows out of the corner of his eye and spun, kicking out a leg in its direction. Tron, circuits blacked out collar to toe on his stealth suit with only his head bare, easily grabbed his outstretched limb and pulled, using Beck's momentum against him. Users, he was strong! As Beck hit the ground again, he cursed and rolled, letting his already pummeled shoulder absorb the impact. Tron never ceased to amaze him. His design, where graceful form followed function, was immensely powerful, tall, and broad shouldered, yet lithe and flexible- a deadly combination. Despite the fact that his face was all angles, and his profile striking and square jawed, there was a certain elegance to his features embodied by his noble nose and the smooth brown hair he neatly swept back from his temples. Often his gray eyes seemed suspicious and scrutinizing, casting hard glares that only rarely hinted at disguised vulnerability underneath. A faint, pixelated scar running up the left side of Tron's neck was the only outward evidence that he wasn't invincible. Physically, Beck was of an average build, and although he was a lot leaner and not quite as tall as his mentor, he liked to imagine he made up for what he lacked in stature with dexterity and speed. Over the past several decacycles under Tron's training, he had learned to push the boundaries of his programming, but now he seemed to be hitting a wall. Beck narrowly avoided blows aimed towards his vulnerable spots as he attempted to get back on his feet. They sparred, Beck fighting to keep up. Tron was written to be a gladiator, the stuff of legend. He just made it all look so easy. It was simultaneously inspiring and disheartening for the young mechanic. The security program may have been written using an older form of BASIC- obsolete, even- but his User had created him with timeless precision and one objective: victory. And right now, victory against this beast of a program seemed like a delusion to Beck.

"This isn't really a fair fight," Beck panted, grappling with the more experienced program. It felt like he was wrestling one of General Tesler's tanks. He got in a swift jab, which only served to make his hand sore. Tron's response was to put him in a choke hold.

"I know," Tron said, his voice maddeningly even despite his exertions. "I don't understand why you don't use that to your advantage." Beck strained in Tron's iron grip, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"I obviously don't have any advantages." He grunted with effort as he knifed his arms up through Tron's, breaking his hold and managing to stumble out of the way just as Tron lept at him again. "I'm just a mechanic!" He blocked and parried, feeling the last of his energy drain out of him. The security program looked like he could go another twelve rounds. He paused mid stance and glared down at Beck with piercing eyes and a severe frown.

"Are you whining, Renegade?" Tron scolded. Beck felt his circuits burn with shame. Tron relaxed into a casual standing position and crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest. Unsure if the fight was still on or not, Beck wavered, then stood at attention.

"No, sir." he replied. Tron nodded.

"That's what I thought. Do it again, and do it better." He turned on his heel and disappeared into a new configuration of the simulation. Beck groaned internally. How many times was he going to have to hear that?! His shoulder was fried and he wanted to quit already and go soak in an energy pool for the rest of the night. And of course, he was scheduled for the early shift at the garage tomorrow. He should have expected he'd be up late either training or on patrol, and judging by the way his circuits ached, he knew he'd feel utterly wrecked in the morning. Still, Tron had a point... Tesler and his minions wouldn't rest, so neither should he… and complaining wouldn't change that. There was only one way to end this simulation. Focusing his resolve, he cautiously crept down the maze of dimly- lit alleyways, eyes peeled.

Two helmeted figures converged on him and he easily held them back. Computer generated opponents… they must be there to distract him. It was tricky, but he simultaneously scanned his surroundings while he kept them at bay. They were able to get in a few stinging punches but nothing he couldn't take. And there, reflected in the slick puddles, was Tron's dark form, pouncing from a hidden angle. Beck made quick work of the sims ganging up on him and met the leaping program head on. He reached out, grabbed dense handfuls of bicep and belly, and hauled him over his head using the program's weight and momentum against him, as Tron had done so many times with Beck. To his surprise, it actually worked. The security program hit the ground like a megabyte of data bricks, and stayed down. The other programs flickered, then disappeared. Beck retracted his helmet and leaped into the air, whooping in victory- he had finally succeeded! Reveling in his moment of glory, he confidently beamed down at Tron, putting his fists on his hips.

"I think we're done for the day," Beck announced. "I don't know about you, but I could use a couple drinks." He raked his fingers through his short black hair, transforming it from helmet-head back into his usual tousled faux hawk. He then waited for Tron to predictably nag at him to stop gloating and go through the simulation yet again. There was always something Beck neglected to notice, some minuscule detail he could improve upon. However, Tron failed to deliver his usual lecture. He was still lying face down in a crumpled heap. Shifting slightly, Tron braced the ground with his elbows, propping himself up, and shook his head as if to clear it.

"That was... very good, Beck..." the deep rumble of his mentor's voice sounded rougher than usual, and slightly breathless. Beck sensed something was off. Tron was usually on his feet by now.

"Hey...you all right?" he asked, bending down to check him out. Tron waved him away.

"I'm fine." He slowly rolled into a sitting position, grimacing.

"You don't look fine."

Tron glared at him the way he always did when he wanted Beck to back off.

"It's just some old injuries flaring up. You should go unwind. You've earned it." Tron ordered the simulation to end. The holograms of jumbled streets and crevices dissolved into the featureless, parallel planes of backlit panels lining the ceiling and floor of the training grid. Beck looked towards the exit, then back at his mentor, who was still sitting hunched over on the floor.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" Beck said, ducking down on one knee and draping one of Tron's long, powerful arms over his shoulders. He wrapped his other arm around Tron's back, gripping his waist, and pulled him to his feet. The security program winced and let out a stifled groan. Beck felt guilt stab at his core. "Geez...I'm so sorry... I never meant to cause any real damage..."

"It's not your fault. You followed your instincts," Tron replied. He leaned on Beck heavily. "Bravo... You're improving." Those last few words sounded a bit too tinged with amazement for Beck's liking, but he let it slide. They made their way towards the healing chamber, but the injured program dug in his heels and forced Beck to put him down on a diagnostic pallet instead. Tron sagged into the 45 degree angle of the pallet, mussed brown hair hanging in his eyes and jaw clenched in pain. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Beck could've sworn that Tron's normally pale scar had lengthened, running from his neck all the way up to his left eye, and was becoming more livid by the minute.

"How is this supposed to do you any good?!" Beck exclaimed. He felt frustration bubbling up inside of him- frustration with himself, with Tron's hard-headed nature, and a deep seated resentment of the coup that had torn him up so badly. Beck was vague on the details, but he knew Dyson and Clu must have done something brutal that left deep scars that went beyond physical. "Let me see," he said in a lame attempt at a commanding tone. Tron grunted.

"Last time I checked, you weren't a medic," he said, his mouth set in a firm line. "I'll be fine. Go hang out with your friends. Blow off some steam."

"Don't try to act so tough," Beck retorted. "Besides, it's way too late to even meet up with anyone." He turned his head and nervously glanced at the glowing tank of energy at the back of the room, thick eyebrows knitting together. "We should really get you in the healing chamber before-"

"Dammit, you have no idea how much I hate that thing!" Tron snapped, making Beck swallow back the rest of his sentence. Barely masking the bitterness in his tone, the older program muttered under his breath, "It's like being trapped in an aquarium."

"A what?" Beck had never heard that term before.

"Never mind," said Tron.

"Just tell me...unless you think I'm too stupid to understand?" Beck challenged. He was done with Tron's condescending attitude, which always seemed to surface when Beck was only trying to help.

"No-but-well..." Tron noticed a flicker of hurt pass across Beck's face and fumbled for an explanation. "...It's a glass container that holds water... and a simulated environment for shiny little entities called 'fish'..." he saw that he was already losing Beck.

"Entities...like...ISO's?" Inquired the trainee, his expressive brown eyes wary and belying his confusion.

"No." Tron sighed. "It's something from the User world...so it's hard to describe."

Beck was stunned. He looked upon the injured program with awe.

"You know about the User world?" he asked, leaning forward, intrigued.

Tron chose his words carefully.

"As you know, I worked closely with Kevin Flynn. He explained many details of his world to me, that's all."

Beck didn't look convinced.

"You've actually been there, haven't you?" he asked.

Ignoring Beck's inquiry, Tron reached back behind his shoulder blades and removed his personal disc. Holding it parallel to the floor in front of him, he brought up a holographic schematic of his system made of pinpoints of light hovering above the interface. "Beck, If you don't mind, I need to take care of this," he said impatiently. He swiped through several skins he had programmed for himself and chose his default setting. Streaks of pixels in his suit flipped and melted away, revealing broad symmetrical lines of glowing circuitry. The injury was immediately apparent, as one of the main circuit lines on his left side sported a geometric web of flickering teal cracks. Beck grimaced.

"I'll go get you some energy." He stood up and Tron looked relieved, as if hopefully this whole line of questioning could be avoided. Beck had gotten to the doorway when he turned around and called out, "Don't think you're off the hook- when I get back, you're gonna tell me what a fish is." Tron huffed in response.

Chapter Text

There was a natural energy spring under their base of operations. Beck had gone down into the damp and crystalline depths of the subterranean level once or twice, and seen the series of ingenious pumps and machinery that transformed it into a power source that fed the whole complex. In a corner of the main hall, a fountain of the stuff bubbled into a small reservoir that had been carved out of the natural stone which surrounded them. Beck grabbed a pitcher resting on the lip of the fountain and filled it to the brim. Then, unable to resist the temptation of raw, unfiltered energy, he cupped his hand and dipped it in the pool and brought it to his lips. It was bitingly cold and refreshing, and tingled in his chest effervescently. He gulped down a few more handfuls and a pleasant buzz worked its way up to his head. Energy kept programs alive, but he had to be careful- too much from a pure source such as this could make him intoxicated. Tearing himself away, he brought the glowing pitcher and two glass tumblers back to Tron's room and stopped dead in his tracks. Beck tried not to stare. Tron had derezzed part of the suit that covered his torso, exposing intricate patterns of alien circuitry disrupted by extensive scars. Extensive wasn't even the right adjective to describe the twisted gouges of dark pixels- No regular program could have survived wounds like that. An ugly splotch of aggravated teal pixels glowed around the scars. Tron was busy trying to upload a patch onto the damaged code through his identity disk. Of course, Beck thought, being a security program, he must know how to initiate damage repairs. Maybe while working side by side with Kevin Flynn for so many cycles he had also picked up a trick or two from the User. It must have been how he was able to survive whatever happened during the coup...

Beck cleared his throat. Tron looked up, blinking as if he had forgotten the other program was still around, then gestured towards a small end table.

"You can just leave that there."

Beck ignored him and pulled up a chair across from the injured program. He sat down, poured Tron a glass of energy, and handed it to him. He wanted to show the other program that the scars didn't phase him, but the glass trembled in his hand. What Tron had meant during their match when he said that Beck had the advantage suddenly dawned on him. Beck was young and hadn't really suffered through that much yet. Tron, on the other hand... The security program was so impenetrable and stoic that it was easy to forget that he was running damaged. Despite his debilitating wounds, every day he pushed himself to the limit so that the Renegade would have that much more of a chance of succeeding against the myriad of programs that threatened Argon.

"Users...I'm so sorry. I should have realized-"

"Don't worry, Beck- I'll be okay," Tron interrupted gently, taking the glass. It was hard to read the expression on his long, chiseled features. However, to Beck's surprise, Tron didn't tell him to go away. The older program drank small sips, letting the energy roll around on his tongue, savoring it. Beck felt slightly embarrassed for indulging himself at the source. He wished he had even a quarter of the patience and discipline of his mentor. He poured himself half a glass and stared into its depths, swirling the energy round and round.

"So what's a fish?" he asked. Tron shrugged. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he finished fiddling with his code and rezzed the pixels of his suit back into place. After he re-docked his identity disc, he went into recovery mode and reclined back on the angled surface of the pallet, quietly nursing his drink. Beck was about to give up waiting when Tron haltingly broke the silence in a hushed voice.

"It's like a different type of program. Except... nobody programmed it. It has eyes... but not exactly like ours… they're round and on either side of its head… and a little oblong body covered in reflective pixels. And it's got transparent fins… kind of like solar sails… but flowing… and it uses them to propel itself because it actually lives in the water."

Beck tried to picture such a creature. It was too strange. "How big is it?" he asked.

"They come in different sizes," replied Tron. "Flynn kept small ones in an aquarium, about this big." He spread his forefinger and thumb apart a few centimeters. "They were orange and silver, but he called them 'goldfish.' ...He let me feed them..." Tron's pale eyes held a far away expression. "They were beautiful. He said that some grow even bigger than Users, but those live in the Sea."

"Users have a Sea of Simulation, too?" Beck took a slow sip from his glass, contemplating this revelation. "So how do you feed fish energy if they live in the water?"

"Users and their pets… and other life-forms… have to ingest energy in solid form."

"Like crystals?"

Tron shook his head. "They sort of eat each other." At Beck's shocked reaction, he backtracked. "I know how bizarre that sounds, and it's not that simple. Users don't eat other Users, but they eat other life forms to absorb their energy, and those life forms have energy because they ate other, simpler life forms, which in turn ate simpler life forms, and so on and so forth. But the Users prepare their food first, before they ingest it, in some sort of ritual that makes it look less like the thing it once was. I can't explain it. It's just very, very different, and complicated. It was overwhelming at the time. Everything in the User world was extremely difficult for me to process." He glanced up at Beck, who was listening in rapt attention. "Flynn called the User world 'Analog.' It's another state of being. He had warned me that I might be completely incompatible with it. I took a big risk when I decided to go Analog."

Beck shivered. "What was it like?"

Again, it seemed to take the security program a lot of effort to put his experience into words.

"It was so bright there... so very bright and warm outside, it nearly overloaded my circuits. All the heat and light came from a burning disk that traveled across the sky." He closed his eyes, accessing his memories. "It burned yellow instead of blue."

"Yellow..."

"Yes. Fire burns yellow and orange there."

Beck tried to flip the colors in his mind, a simple reversal but one he had never considered before. Yellow...the color of Clu...

He wondered if it had any significance, considering Clu was a direct copy of his User.

"When the burning disk disappeared, things were much more bearable. Then it looked almost like the Grid. And instead of the burning disc, there was another, smaller disc in the sky that glowed with a pale light, and thousands of points of light up in the blackness, like winking pixels. According to Flynn, those were also burning disks, but an incredible distance away."

Tron seemed reluctant to continue, but Beck urged him on, fascinated.

"Users live in cities just like programs do here on the grid. Things weren't actually much different in that respect. But you wouldn't believe the diversity of things that are ALIVE just everywhere you go in the User world. They don't look like us, but still have a level of consciousness. Things that fly… and sing… crawl and flutter around… things rooted to the ground that grow tall like antenna arrays with thousands of green bits on top that constantly fall off and regenerate… even parts of the ground that you walk on are covered with a green layer that's alive... and they just take all this life for granted."

Beck couldn't wrap his head around the concept. Living ground?

"There was this thing Flynn called a 'cat.'" Tron continued. "Flynn said it was a common User companion, that came and went as it pleased. It was about a foot tall, walked around on four legs, and it was covered from head to toe in hair. Imagine, hair all over, decorated with the most intricate patterns! With ears like radar dishes on top of its head and a long part on the back end- like a cable- that waved around for balance. It had a face with big green eyes, a tiny nose, a little pink mouth full of sharp teeth… and it rubbed hair all over our legs and said 'miaouw.'"

Beck concealed a snort of laughter with his fist. He knew it was blasphemy to laugh at anything of Flynn's, but the high pitched noise Tron made sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

"Miaouw...? What does that mean?"

Tron shrugged. "I have no idea. Flynn said that it wasn't speech, just noise, but the cat was still able to communicate with him."

"Weird. What did it want?" asked Beck.

"It just wanted to eat and go to sleep on Flynn's couch," replied Tron. He continued, voice full of wonder, "It was the softest thing I've ever touched. Users seem to just have them around so that they can feel how soft they are. They vibrate like they have a motor, but they aren't mechanical at all."

Beck wished he could see images or recordings of the incredible things Tron was describing to help him visualize them, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. Still, he had so many questions... dare he even ask the one foremost in his mind? He decided to press his luck.

"Did you meet your User?"

Tron was silent for a few minutes. Then, in a quiet voice he answered, "Yes. I met Alan-One, my User."

Gaping silently, Beck wondered what he would say if he ever came face-to-face with his User. He had a feeling they wouldn't be too happy to learn that Beck was overriding his mechanic functions in favor of being the Renegade. Tron spoke with utmost reverence.

"He was very wise and kind... and concerned. He was angry with Flynn."

"Flynn? But why?!" Users had disagreements?

"He said Flynn shouldn't have brought me out of the Grid. You see… everything in the User world was very highly rendered, down to the tiniest detail. I didn't know so many colors, textures, or sounds could exist simultaneously… I was confronted with too much information to process. I had never experienced so many different sensations all at once. I… couldn't handle it. They had to send me back." He slowly came out of his reverie. Beck realized Tron was trembling slightly. He studied Beck's face warily without saying anything further, as if he was afraid the young program might think he was insane. On the contrary, Beck felt humbled. Tron had never really opened up to him about much of anything... and to hear him talk about something as sacred as the User world was the last thing he expected.

"So... you said nobody programmed 'living things.' Where do these things come from in the User world? Who programs the Users?" Beck asked. He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, brow furrowed, and immediately regretted the question. "Sorry, I'm probably asking too much..." Tron shook his head.

"Not at all. No one programs the Users... though... they do have some sort of code deep down inside. Flynn's told me that much. They create new Users by mixing parts of their data together. It's the same for other life forms. Every new combination of their codes grows into a new entity." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Believe me, I had all of the same questions, and more. Flynn said that Users often ask these questions of their own existence. Some even believe they are programmed by mysterious Users who have an influence beyond their own sphere of understanding." Beck pondered that concept. It was like two mirrors infinitely reflecting each other.

"This conversation has gotten too deep for me," he joked, flashing Tron a rueful smile.

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that..." said the security program. "You're too philosophical for your own good sometimes." He downed the remainder of the energy in his glass. Beck poured him another. Tron raised an eyebrow.

"Trying to get me drunk?" he queried, raising the glass to his lips. Beck shook his head.

"I wasn't sure you could even GET drunk," he said.

"I most certainly can," said Tron, and the extra emphasis he put on "certainly" made Beck laugh.

"Please tell me there's a story about that," pleaded Beck. "Or several!" But no matter how much he tried to wheedle the information out of him, Tron resisted.

"I think I've told enough stories. It's your turn," said Tron.

"Me?" Beck asked, feeling put on the spot. "I can't top what you just told me. Up until I became the Renegade, my life wasn't all that exciting."

"That doesn't matter."

Beck eventually gave in. He told the tale of one of Bodhi's last inception celebrations, and how Zed and Mara were still too young to go bar hopping, so they had to mask the ages on their disks. Fortunately, Bodhi was really good at forging code. It was why he had worked on the more complicated jobs at Abel's Garage, especially hacking older models that were now rendered obsolete. Beck described their progressively more outlandish antics that night, from Bodhi and Beck creatively defacing Clu propaganda to Mara getting propositioned by a pair of popular MP3 programs on tour at the 0001001 Club.

"...And oh man...you should've seen the look on poor Zed's face when Mara acted like she was legitimately considering taking them up on the offer. He was sooooo pissed. You see... Zed is completely, madly in love with her. It's totally obvious to everyone except Mara." Beck had to stop to catch his breath because he was laughing so much at the memory. To his surprise, Tron actually cracked a smile. It was a strange and rare sight… no doubt partially influenced by the raw energy Beck kept refilling his glass with. But he was smiling nevertheless.

"I like how you describe your friends," Tron said. "They sound like a good bunch." He put his left arm behind his head, reclining with his glass of energy resting on his chest, fingers draped over the top. "So what happened next?"

"Oh, uh, Zed got up in their visors and started yelling, but it was like, drunk yelling where he was a slurring, garbled mess, not making ANY sense, and we had to hold him back..." Beck started laughing again. "The DJ's didn't want any part of that scene, so they just turned the music up really, really loud to drown him out. And then... then Zed told Mara he had something he had to tell her, but no matter how many times he repeated himself, she couldn't understand what he was saying. No one could hear themselves think inside the club, so we had to go outside."

"And then?" Tron asked, voice full of anticipation.

"He just passed out cold before he could say anything!" exclaimed Beck. Tron burst out laughing. Beck could barely finish the story, he was laughing so hard himself. "What a lightweight, you know? Mara had to princess carry him all the way back to his bunk. Of course, we were all a little worried, but Bodhi said he would stay with him and make sure he was all right. Other than having a hangover that made him grumpy as hell, Zed was fine the next day. And from that point on he refused to listen to Daft Punk." A mischievous look twinkled in Beck's eyes. "So Bodhi and I downloaded their entire discography and snuck it into the playlist at the garage!" Beck listened to Tron's deep, resonant guffaws and decided that winning the training simulation hadn't been the ultimate victory that day. After their mirth tapered off, Tron gazed over at Beck with regret in his eyes.

"I'm sorry you all lost Bodhi."

"Yeah... I miss him so much sometimes..." Beck trailed off , unable to express the emptiness that still haunted him deep down inside.

The tips of Tron's fingers delicately traced the rim of his glass. "You know… I was ported over from another system- the old Encom System. You're probably too young to even know what that was."

Beck thought of the unfamiliar patterns of circuitry he had seen underneath Tron's outer skin. There was something foreign about the flowing, convoluted designs, a curving harmony that was lacking in the geometric right angles and minimalism of the Grid… something echoed in Tron's build- angular contours that were gracefully streamlined.

"Back when I was around your age, a power-hungry program called the MCP had just taken over, and I was thrown into the Games with a program named Ram. We went through a lot together. He was an insurance program, and wasn't exactly cut out for the arena, but somehow he was able to transcend his programming." Tron paused. "He was a good friend. I know neither of us would have made it without the other." Another, longer pause. "He gave his life helping Kevin Flynn and I escape the Game Grid."

Tron was always catching Beck off guard, it seemed. It was easier for Beck to envision a User cat than a younger Tron with a BFF. Tron must have noticed the incredulity on his face, because he said, with a sad smile, "Yes, Beck, even I was young once. I had companions… and even a partner- Yori- before Clu and Dyson took everything away from me. She was so beautiful, and incredibly clever, too."

It was even more difficult to imagine Tron with a partner. He just seemed so emotionally walled off. But then again, things hadn't been easy for him over the last kilocycle. And maybe it just took him a while to warm up to programs before he could express himself in front of them, lest he seem vulnerable. He was certainly being more open now than any other time Beck had ever witnessed. Beck desperately wished he could delete all the depressing and traumatic things that had happened in Tron's life. It was easy to see Tron as a gruff and strict taskmaster lacking a social life because he was a perfectionist, when in actuality, all of his friends were deleted, repurposed, or left behind in another system.

"I'm sorry," said Beck.

"There's no need to apologize," Tron told him. "All that is in the past now." A long, tired sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes and fell silent. After a while, Beck started to wonder if he had powered down. He got up and gingerly took the glass out of Tron's grasp, being careful not to disturb him, and placed it on the table. Then he started towards the door.

"Beck..." Tron called out drowsily. Beck stopped and turned around.

"Yeah?"

"...It's nice to have someone to talk to again."

Beck wasn't sure how to respond. He tried not to dwell on how isolated the program must feel when he wasn't around.

"Anytime," he finally managed to say. With that, he turned out the lights, and left the room.

He was sleepy himself, and knew that he wouldn't be able to stay awake if he tried to drive his lightcycle back to the city. Moving through a blur of exhaustion, Beck found his way to a couch downstairs and sprawled across its smooth surface, his long legs dangling off the edge. Bits and pieces of what Tron had told him swirled around in his mind like the energy had swirled in his glass. He was glad they finally had a conversation that didn't revolve around the rebellion. It was touching to know that Tron was finally feeling comfortable enough around him to let down his guard. But what extraordinary things Tron had experienced! Beck supposed that it only made sense... Tron was an extraordinary program.

Beck slowly drifted off into sleep mode and dreamed of Analog...