Chapter Text
Sam was still getting over his panic when he looked back and caught sight of plumes of dust in the distance behind them. "I thought you said they couldn't handle this terrain!"
"They've been modified!" Quorra said fiercely, eyes narrowing with concentration. "Hold on! I'm going to try and lose them!"
"Hold on to what?" Sam asked incredulously, but it was too late. A few button keys and the bumpy, dangerously fast ride which had started with the kind of jump that would make Evil Knievel cry seemed tame.
They zigged. They zagged. They sped up and hit the breaks and drifted. At one point, Quorra used a steep incline to try and throw off their pursuers and they actually rolled over mid air, and Sam tried not to scream or puke.
It wasn't enough.
Somehow, between one minute and the next, the top half of the vehicle was gone in a shower of scattering pixels and Sam was plucked from the passenger seat and dragged over the front of a lightcycle. The program who'd caught him immediately veered away and let the two remaining figures close in to distract Quorra.
Sam was momentarily frozen by the bright circuitry of the wheel so close to his face before his brain caught up and he lunged forward as best as he could and dug both of his hands into the gritting dirt that made up the off-Grid environment.
Lightcycles weren't as easy to knock off balance as his Ducati would be in this situation, even considering how poorly his weight was distributed, but a moment of uneven pressure as the program tried to steer and drag Sam up at the same time was enough to send Sam tumbling painfully from the cycle to skid over the stony ground.
Head ringing, dust coating his face and the inside of his mouth, Sam couldn't do anything to take advantage of his momentary freedom as he fought to stay conscious. His hearing returned first, and he couldn't make out purr of the lightcycle approaching.
Maybe I did more damage than I thought...go me.
Feeling vaguely triumphant and explicitly bruised...well, everywhere, unless he was cut or scraped up instead, Sam opened his eyes to see the chaotic, teeming sky of the Grid and took a few breaths, then tensed and started to push himself up on his arms.
The only warning he had of attack was the sound of rocks striking. He barely had time to look up -- it's that guy, I'm so fucked -- before the black-and-red figure blotted out the sky in an impossible tumbling arc, mid-air, that ended with him slamming Sam back into the ground, glowing red disc once more at Sam's throat.
Pain spiked though Sam and his vision went blurry and dim. He might have moaned but he couldn't tell if it was out loud or merely one constant denial of his situation. He tried to regulate his breaths, concentrating on that to push back the darkness encroaching on his vision.
Awareness returned after a moment and he could hear the strange gurgling purr from Clu's office. The Identity Disc was a threatening hum a hair away from his throat, and Sam couldn't see anything in the helmet of the program crouched directly over him but his own warped reflection.
"At least let me see your face," he murmured, coughing from the dry dust still coating his throat. The program didn't respond other than to move the disc back far enough that he didn't decapitate Sam on accident, presumably. "Come on...you're gonna kill me -- derez me -- anyway, right? What's the harm?"
There was a long pause and then lines appeared, bisecting and then quartering the helmet without any visible instigation Sam could see, and he watches the face of his killer appear with detached curiosity.
What? he wondered. But. You look like...Alan. The program stared down at him blankly, giving nothing away. Sam couldn't take that kind of wall on Alan's face and his eyes dropped.
"Tron?" he whispered, eyes locked on the red squares forming a T at the base of the program's neck.
Rinzler -- Tron? -- flicked his wrist and Sam flinched, but didn't feel the bite of the disc. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and realized Tron's second disc had been docked with the first.
Tron was still kneeling on his aching ribs, still seemed tense enough to knock Sam's teeth in and call it a day, but he was apparently in no danger of derezzing at the moment.
They stared at each other in silence until Sam couldn't take it any more. "It is you, isn't it? Tron?"
The gray-blue eyes narrowed. Sam didn't have time to register how bad a sign that was before pressure on his throat cut off his oxygen supply. He struggled reflexively, but the program pinned one hand easily. The other was too weak to pry up his grip alone.
Sam stopped struggling, meeting the program's eyes, otherwise unable to promise not to struggle without access to his windpipe. After a minute, the grip relaxed minutely, and Sam shuddered as he gasped air back in. "Sorry, sorry," he gasped, eyes closing tiredly before he forced them back open. "Didn't mean to upset you."
Sam realized immediately how useless it was to apologize to an apparently murderous computer program, but the words were already out of his mouth. The familiar head tilted a hair and the grip at Sam's throat relaxed a little more, before tightening again. It wasn't enough to completely cut off his air supply this time, but it did limit it, and Sam winced automatically in remembrance.
The grip loosened again.
Sam opened his eyes. Rinzler's head tilted another degree. His grip, again, went just tight enough to constrict Sam's breath. Woozy and in pain, Sam let his head fall back to the ground and tried to breathe through it. Let the crazy program play, he thought distantly. I'll die anyway. Who cares if I go strangled or bisected by a laser-Frisbee?
"Users require air."
Sam looked up tiredly, unable to work up even a little frustration with the program. He was obviously crazy, just like the rest of this world and all Sam could feel was a little regret that Alan would have two Flynns disappear on him in exactly the same way. "Yeah, man. We need it to live."
"Users bleed."
Sam looked at him, distantly curious. "Proved that when you kicked my ass around the court, didn't you?" The angle of Rinzler's head shifted a few degrees and Sam could feel his mouth twitch. Breathing was a bit easier now, at least.
Rinzler's head shifted, maybe to examine the line he'd cut into Sam's arm in the Arena, and Sam shrugged as best as he could with Rinzler still kneeling on his chest. "Don't worry about it, man. Heat of the moment, trying to kill me. It's all good."
The weight on his chest shifted, and Sam moaned, tears stinging his eyes as his sorely abused ribs protested the change in pressure until it disappeared. Rinzler was still crouching over him, but he was kneeling beside Sam now, when Sam forced his eyes open again after the pain had faded back to a dull roar.
Sam watched him without moving. The dude was obviously messed up, whether he really was Tron or not, and Sam was tired and aching as he crashed from the constant flow of adrenalin which had begun when he'd been transported to the Grid. Sorry, Alan...wish you would've come with me. You could probably have kept us out of trouble long enough to figure out what happened to dad.
His ambivalence was tested when Rinzler leaned forward and down, angling his face towards the cut and Sam tried to push himself back. "What are--ow!"
Rinzler's arm pinned him almost as easily as his body had, and the pressure along his sternum reminded him of the tumble he'd just taken. "All right," he gasped, moisture seeping from his eyes as he closed them against the pain. "Please stop."
The arm eased up after a moment, and then something cool, soft and wet pressed to his cheek. Sam wearily cracked his eyes open and blinked at Rinzler. They were so close he could count the program's eyelashes.
Rinzler looked almost thoughtful, like the salt-sour taste of Sam's tears was something he'd never even considered before.
Rinzler slowly traced up the tear tract and then over Sam's eye, and he barely got his lids closed in time. "Oh, God, oh, God that is disgusting, you're licking my eye."
Rinzler withdrew after a minute, and Sam cautiously cracked his eyes open, shuddering in disgust when the eyelashes on the one stuck. Rinzler was still uncomfortably close.
He really does look like Alan, Sam thinks, and that earlier realization that he's not going to be going home hits him again. He closes his eyes as his stomach clenches. "I'm sorry, Alan..."
The choppy hum vibrating through Rinzler into Sam sped up then, and Rinzler pulled back, off of his chest entirely with a frown. He didn't notice Sam's attention. Sam licked his lips and carefully got his arms under his sides to push himself up gingerly, eyes on the enforcer.
Rinzler's head snapped back over to him, one hand lifting as though to grab his disc and Sam froze. "I'm just sitting up!" he hissed, and flinched without thinking. The movement jarred bruises he'd acquired at some point, and the ribs he'd at least bruised on his tumble off of the lightcycle.
Rinzler remained taut, ready to cut him down, but didn't undock his disc, and Sam decided that was as much permission as he was going to get. so he carefully tried to sit up without hurting too badly.
"Identify Alan."
Sam blinked. "OK, but..." he licked his lips. "Uh, you're not going to choke me again if I do, are you?" Rinzler tilted his head, eyes narrowing and overall giving Sam the impression that he was in danger of being strangled right now, which should be his primary concern.
"Right, God, no pressure or anything," Sam muttered. "So...you know how programs are supposed to look like their programmers?" Rinzler didn't move. "Yeah...right, OK. Well, Alan is a programmer." Sam swallowed, looking into that familiar face set in such an alien expression. "He's your programmer."
Rinzler was silent, and Sam took a breath and went for it. "He's your creator...Tron."
Rinzler jerked and Sam flinched, but the program seemed to distract himself and pressed his fist instead to his own head. The gurgling was even louder than before. Sam watched wide-eyed as the program grimaced in pain that only seemed to get worse. He had no doubt if he tried to move, Rinzler would be on him again in a heartbeat, and after experiencing this kind of pain, he'd probably just kill Sam so he didn't have to deal with the trouble. "God...what happened to you?"
"System corrupted," the program ground out, glaring blindly in Sam's direction. "Source identified--"
Shit, Sam thought, backpedaling as the program tensed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa--I didn't do anything, or give you anything that could've corrupted you! When would I have had time in the last two hours? Between the weird strip-search and all the beatings I've been taking?"
The program hesitated and Sam stopped scooting back tentatively. "Just...just, why not run a system scan before you do anything you can't undo?" he offered, hoping it made enough sense to work, and that it would buy him enough time while -- he hoped -- Quorra came back for him. "That'll tell you where the, uh, corruption came from. Right?"
Rinzler's hands clenched into fists and he stared at Sam, jaw tense and brow furrowed.
Please work, Sam prayed silently. "Don't you want to be sure?"
"You'll stay," Rinzler said, looming forward over Sam, voice dropping even lower on the register with the force of his words.
Sam licked his lips. "Yeah, of course, man."
The program was a smudge of motion when he lunged. Sam jerked back automatically, but by then he'd been grabbed and wrapped up in the most menacing bear-hug he'd ever experienced in his life, with Rinzler half-holding up his weight. He couldn't get much leverage, and when he tried pushing tentatively on the program's chest, found him immovable. "What now...?" Sam muttered, shifting where he could to ease the pressure from his new and slightly less new bruises.
"$sammflynn will go to standby during scan," Rinzler said, hand closing once more around Sam's throat. He was close enough that Sam could feel the ticking gurgle even as he struggled vainly against his one-armed almost-hug. His vision started fading as the air in his lungs wasn't recycled and his struggles grew weaker until he finally passed out.
Waking up was strange and abrupt. In an instant, he was suddenly aware, and only the newness of the sensation made him realize he'd been asleep. Or unconscious, he thought as his throat throbbed in reminder. His ribs and his arm were members of the chorus shortly as he was shifted, the movement reminding him of the new and slightly-less-new bruises, all aching and inconsistent.
He was pressed against what felt like another man's chest, and movement transferred to him where his arm was pressed tightly into well-defined pecs. On top of that, he could feel a low buzz all around him, in the arms under his shoulders and legs, from the chest he was pressed to. His mind was blessedly blank, but he could still recall echoes of dread, and part of him could already tell that he'd probably freak out about this later.
Sam opened his eyes onto red and black. Rinzler was apparently carrying him back to Clu bridal style, which just...
"I can walk," Sam offered. The arms tightened around him painfully, but Sam was already hurting enough that it didn't hit him too hard. He looked up from the painfully red emblem on Rinzler's chest and met Rinzler's red-tinged eyes. "Let me walk to my death, at least."
Rinzler's hold relaxed incrementally. "You aren't dying this cycle."
Sam blinked. "Oh." He thought about that for a few steps and then decided he was dead either way. "What exactly do you think Clu's going to do to me?"
Rinzler's jaw went tight. "I'm not taking you to Clu."
"You aren't?" Sam asked dubiously, craning his neck. "Not that I'm not pumped, but uh...why not?"
Rinzler looked down at Sam. His jaw was still tight, but that was the only visible reaction. The change of angle lengthened the shadows on his face, distorted the familiar features. "That information is privileged."
Sam couldn't move. The steady motion of walking flexed against Sam's back as his arms swayed with Sam's weight in response to his steps continued rubbing against Sam's arm. The weight of the stare down at him was arresting. Rinzler didn't seem to need to blink, and Sam didn't want to risk it. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of something and one wrong move would get him tossed over the edge.
The terrain saved him from eye-strain. A small imperfection, loose rocks under Rinzler's next step, sent him stumbling forward and broke the eye-contact. He automatically tightened his grip on Sam, pulling him close to his chest as he got himself back under control. The tighter grip jostled his arm, tore open the scab and pulled Sam's skin where dried blood had glued the lightsuit down. Sam's vision went dark with the pain all over again.
Sam came to slower, the next time he woke. It actually felt like waking, rather than an abrupt return to consciousness.
"My logs were heavily encrypted, but it wasn't enough to keep me out," Rinzler's voice was the same rumbling growl from before, but shaping the words sharper now.
"O...K?" Sam said, blinking until his blurred, tired vision cleared. He was laid out in a soft patch of what looked like sand. Rinzler was crouched beside a faintly glowing pool of liquid, hands braced on his thighs and clenching rhythmically.
Rinzler turned his head slowly, so slowly his hair barely ruffled where it brushed his temple. "$flynn was the first to make changes to my base code without authorization from my User. Clu was the last."
Sam swallowed. "Ah."
"I'm not Tron." Rinzler reached out and gripped Sam's shoulder. His grip was too strong -- he might bruise over the cut from the Arena. He stared at Sam, grip tightening faintly before he surged forward and tugged Sam toward him. Their faces were close enough for Sam to feel his breath bounce off of Rinzler's mouth.
"I was. But now I don't fight for anyone," Rinzler insisted, voice sharp. His eyes held Sam. "I fight for me."
"OK," Sam breathed, nodding quickly. Rinzler's eyes shifted to his mouth and Sam licked his lips automatically.
The warm-wet slide of his tongue was chased by Rinzler's mouth, sliding faintly in the thin trail of spit Sam had left behind. Sam hummed, startled, but he Rinzler didn't let him pull back.
"He taught us this," Rinzler snarled into Sam's mouth, then took his bottom lip between his teeth.
Wait, Sam thought, who did what-- but his thoughts scattered when Rinzler bit, hard enough to break the skin. Sam shrieked in startled protest and tugged back against his grip automatically. Rinzler let him back, eyes fierce on Sam's face as he lifted a hand to his mouth protectively.
"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, the words clumsy as he tried not to purse his injured lip.
"That was how I was taught to kiss a User," Rinzler muttered, eyes narrowing.
Sam swallowed. Potential scenarios ran through his mind, and most of them weren't pleasant: if Rinzler was going to take -- could he? Did he have the parts necessary to rape someone? "I don't like that kind of kissing," Sam whispered inanely as his brain tried to wrap around the idea of being possibly raped by a computer program.
Rinzler cocked his head, eyes darting down to Sam's hand covering the wound, and then he reached up and tugged it away to observe the wound he'd made. After a minute, he looked up. "Show me."
That pulled Sam from the confusing whirl of thoughts in his head and he remembered his earlier question of who had taught Tron -- or Rinzler -- to kiss like that, but Rinzler's expression wasn't inviting additional commentary. Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tongue prodding the inside of his lip where it was still seeping blood.
Show me. He wasn't unattractive, Sam told himself. It wouldn't be a hardship if he didn't draw blood or break a bone with every move. He shifted perceptible and Sam swallowed. Time was up, and there was really only one choice to make. "OK, OK," he murmured, holding up his free hand, palm out. "I just...jeez, man, you can't get too upset if I'm slow. I've had a pretty rough night."
Rinzler nodded dismissively, and Sam had another few seconds to be wildly uncertain about the whole thing before he was leaning in again, mouth slanting over Sam's with much less pressure than before, and no teeth.
Sam startled at the feel, the weight sliding over his mouth a surprise even after watching Rinzler close the distance between them. The hole Rinzler had bitten in his lip twinged, and Rinzler started the same suction as before, which seemed like a bad sign. "Wait," Sam mumbled against his mouth. "Let me--"
Rinzler backed off and Sam tilted his head. Tron's hand was still tight on his shoulder, fingers brushing his neck over the lightsuit. He pushed his lips against Rinzler's gently, moved his head back and forth. Even that soft pressure twinged, but it was easier to deal with when Sam was in control of the motion. Rinzler's lips were firm against his, and Sam eased his own open, sucking gently.
It was actually kind of nice. Rinzler tasted like copper, or ozone, and his mouth slowly relaxed in response to Sam's continuous pressure. Sam nuzzled his lips again before sliding his tongue out to dip into the crack of his lips and back. He repeated the motion, increasing the force of his mouth against Rinzler's his mouth was soft enough to rest open faintly when Sam let off on the pressure. The next time he pressured forward with his tongue, he kept up with it, sliding between Rinzler's lips easily and shaping the different textures of his teeth and gums.
He forgot about the pain in his lip entirely until he pulled back and saw Rinzler's mouth was faintly bruised and swollen from their kiss and he bit his own lip to curb his response, causing a stab of pain and a rush of saliva.
"I see," Rinzler murmured, voice buzzing in a soft, wet hush of sound over Sam's sensitive mouth.
Sam blinked. "Huh?"
Rinzler leaned forward, tugging Sam's shoulder more gently than he had. Sam automatically slid his hands over Rinzler's hips in response to the approach and found himself cupping two small pinpricks of light, warm against his palms as Rinzler used his technique against him coaxingly.
Rinzler's mouth hummed very faintly against Sam's, and Sam's hands flexed, grip tightening, and he shifted forward without thinking, his leg pressing easily into the space between Rinzler's. I can do this.
Rinzler pulled back and smirked when Sam tried to follow and couldn't move against the grip on his shoulder. "The initial lesson was given in force," Rinzler murmured. "You prefer stealth and subtlety."
Sam frowned curiously, but before he could ask Rinzler what he meant, the program leaned forward and Sam found his hair being gripped as Rinzler pressed his mouth to the side of his throat, then his head was angled to the side and Rinzler shifted his mouth, rubbing his lips over the dip in Sam's neck. His stomach clenched, fear and lust combining as Rinzler's mouth moved over bruises he'd made with his fingers.
"You bend," Rinzler murmured into his neck.
Sam had to strain against his hold to meet his eyes, but he managed it. "What?"
"You bend for me," Rinzler said, pulling back.
I bend? Sam wondered. "You mean...I'm doing what you want?"
Rinzler cocked his head and then nodded once.
Sam laughed softly, shrugging the shoulder Rinzler was still gripping. It was almost a normal laugh. "I don't...I mean, don't get me wrong, you're attractive, but I didn't chose to start...this."
"I know," Rinzler said, eyes hot. "I did."
Sam realized he would probably be horrified by this guy's sexual history. "Right, and I'm...we can do what you want, just...well, what do you want?" He took the time to really look around. The area they were in seemed like a natural oasis, almost. Outcroppings of rock half again as tall as Sam or Rinzler stretched up in staggered lines, sheltering the pool from the digital wind. He could make out a vague glow over the set angling out to the left. The beacon shined in the middle, bright enough to see from any point in the digital world. "Where are we, anyway?"
Rinzler cocked his head. "A natural energy pool a quarter cycle from the Grid." Sam nodded slowly and arched his eyebrows. Rinzler flexed the hand still buried in Sam's hair and Sam shivered as the tips of his fingers dragged over his scalp gently. "I want you."
Sam swallowed. "I got that," he said, mouth quirking. "But what do you want from me, exactly? I don't know how things work here."
Rinzler squeezed his shoulder and then pressed that hand to Sam's lower back, pressed forward, forcing another shudder from him as the pressure pushed Sam's hips forward, rubbing his crotch against the thigh between his legs. "I'll show you."
Sam licked his lips and blew out a breath. "Yeah, OK," he whispered, eyes dropping to Rinzler's mouth. "If I uh, need a minute, can I say...?"
Rinzler settled back and frowned faintly. "What do you mean?"
Sam blinked and then tilted his own head. "I've taken a beating tonight," he said slowly, trying to sound casual. Not accusatory. That would probably go over as well as bath time with Marv, only Rinzler was exponentially more dangerous than his dog.
"Where else are you damaged?"
Sam lowered his hand slowly, and then, eyes on Rinzler, he prodded carefully around the edges of the worst aches around his ribs, feeling for cracks. "I've got bruises all over," he muttered. "Before I got here, I was--well, I guess it doesn't matter what I was doing, really, but I ran into a light-pole pretty hard, and my knees got shredded when I landed -- the arena didn't exactly help with either of those."
Rinzler reached out, obviously about to poke Sam's ribs, and Sam automatically flinched, his own hand spreading wide and tensing protectively. Rinzler stopped and Sam hesitantly looked back up.
Rinzler frowned. "Show me."
Sam tilted his head and shook it helplessly. "Uh...OK? But I don't know how to get out of this thing," he said, tapping the a piece of the chest armor in demonstration.
Rinzler cocked his head and then shrugged, reaching out toward one of the white circles near Sam's shoulders. He traced the edge and then pressed his fist to it. Sam had a disorienting moment of double vision -- or double sensation -- and then that faded, and Rinzler's hand was in direct contact with his skin, smoothing out over his chest and stroking down with his fingers. He brushed the first of the bruises and Sam hissed, eyes closing automatically.
Rinzler paused, then moved up a bit and traced the edge of the reddened, swelling flesh. Sam's eyes opened after a minute, and he relaxed slowly as the touch stayed mostly off the bruises. Finally, his fingers settled over an unbruised section of Sam's torso. "A program would have derezzed if these blows had landed," he murmured, eyes intent on Sam's face.
"I know how to take a punch, I guess." Sam shrugged. Some of them are yours, he thought.
"I will be careful," Rinzler said slowly. "You'll show me your way to engage when your self-repair has finished."
Sam had enough time to think what? before Rinzler reached behind him, plucking his disc free from a port which shouldn't be there if Sam wasn't wearing the armor any more. He watched, confusion growing as Rinzler twisted, releasing Sam's shoulder and stepped back as he reached behind his own back to undock his identity disc.
Sam frowned as he pressed the discs together. The red and white lights both flared, strobing rather than merging as he might've expected them to, in hindsight. After a third flash, the discs separated and Rinzler grabbed Sam's shoulder and levered him around again.
Sam craned his head, looking back as Rinzler realigned the white disc and then Sam felt it click into place. The same shiver of sensation moved through him as it had the first time, but instead of fading away completely, this time it left a hum of...focus, perhaps. Something like that. Sam didn't have the words for it, yet.
Rinzler had redocked his own disc by the time Sam could think past the strange sensation, and he smiled. "We're compatible."
Sam stared at the first honest smile he'd seen on that face and then that focus, that attention expanded at the same time Rinzler's eyes narrowed with intent, and Sam gasped. "That's you?"
Rinzler nodded and settled his free hand over Sam's hip even as his internal presence coaxed Sam's up, rubbing and sparking. Sam moaned, hands flying to Rinzler's arms to steady himself as lightning raced up his spine from the inside out.
Rinzler rubbed Sam's hip. "Pay attention, User."
Sam swallowed thickly, hands clenching around Rinzler's biceps and took a deep breath. "You should definitely call me Sam," he said, and tried to stretch out along the connection Rinzler had somehow forged between their discs, like Rinzler was doing.
Rinzler twitched, circuits flaring with it before he laughed and slid back into Sam's space fully. "You're a fast learner...Sam."
Sam smirked. "Give me another hour and I'll blow your mind."