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Fanworks: Fics: Tron: The Greatest Little Deresolution
The Greatest Little Deresolution
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- The Greatest Little Deresolution -
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It's not that he isn't hurt.
It's not even that the injuries aren't bad enough to endanger his life.
Those rocks are big. And, while Ram's aware that none of them landed right on top of him, several did manage to land painful blows against various parts of him as they fell.
During which time he was also, of course, falling from a great height, and hitting the ground very hard.
He's definitely hurt.
When Flynn drags him out of the rubble, what remains of Ram's processes can generate nothing but the most urgent warnings and damage reports.
This should have derezzed him already.
He's not sure why it hasn't.
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When Ram wakes inside the Recognizer, he can't remember much of those moments. The pain, the warnings flashing behind his eyes... and the sensation of being carried over a shoulder...
...could it really have been Flynn's shoulder? Because the energy he sensed, through that contact, was not like the touch of any program he can remember. Nothing in all his experience comes close.
He must be delirious. Glitching. Imagining that memory, because, if he's not... that would mean a User came down from the Realm of the Invisible and carried him to safety.
And he is not ready to believe that.
Not because of a deficiency in his faith, but because of an excess. A User would not intervene in such a small way, when so much more help was needed.
For just one example.... wouldn't a User have bothered to heal his injuries too?
And, as that thought flickers through his subroutines, he notices his system running a new self-diagnostic, and...
It's a strange symphony of machine sound that jostles Ram out of that train of thought, and finally shocks his eyes into opening.
"You see this?"
Ram strains to focus his eyes, to make sense of what he sees. Panels of the floor are lighting up, chiming, beeping, coming to life in all colors of light.
Under Flynn's touch.
"You..."
Who is this Flynn? This stranger he's only known for a microcycle or two, this disoriented program who walks into forcefields, and won his first Ring-Game battle, and knows the name of Tron's User and how to break out of the lightcycle grid, and looks at liquid energy like he's never seen it before and keeps saying words and phrases no one can understand?
"...You shouldn't be able to do that."
Flynn offers no response. Only keeps doing it.
Keeps emitting that strange, almost unbearably intense energy (how could so much of it emanate from within one body?) and stands up, hands raised, face glowing with a wild grin.
And in that wash of raw power, that energized wave crashing through the Recognizer and coursing back and forth through Ram's every process and line of code... Ram begins to let himself acknowledge the results of his self-diagnostic.
Whatever happened while he was being carried... did heal him.
The error messages, for one thing. The warnings that were indicating catastrophic damage: traumatic corruption to his code from his collision with the ground, and from the impact of the rocks...
He recalls the pain of it, pain so crushing that he was trapped for a while in a cycle of losing consciousness and regaining it, only to feel the same pain and pass out again before he could draw breath to cry.
If there hadn't been some repair, that damage would certainly have derezzed him by now.
And instead, he's... functional. Stable. Error messages and damage warnings are still present, but at a non-emergency level that can fade into the background of his thoughts. He is aware of minor injuries. A debugging routine is sorting out some damage to his actuarial functions. His circuitry has been jostled out of alignment; many of his lights are not yet showing the proper color or brightness...
None of which is an immediate concern. He doesn't need actuarial functions here. And circuit lights are mostly organs of communication, for signalling emotional state. Not necessary right now. It's just him and Flynn here, and Flynn's never seemed to need (or even understand) that type of communication.
Flynn is still standing there, in a ridiculous stance with a ridiculous smile on his face, as brilliant cyan light courses along every edge of every structure inside this Recognizer and brings it back to life from the dead.
What... who is this Flynn? Where has he come from, and what is his mission here anyway? What are these strange abilities... is he some holy prophet, who can call upon the Will of the Users?
Or...
And the grin across Flynn's face still looks far too silly for such a sacred moment. "Now for some real User power!" he announces, arms spread out at his sides.
...User power?...
Ram can tell, as he lies there basking in the strange flow of energy, that he is still being healed. Whatever damage remains is still repairing itself by the picocycle, line by line. He feels strength and vitality growing, like color rising in status bars...
And-- Oh.
He catches his breath, tensing in a sudden jolt of sensation, as the sheer voltage emanating from Flynn suddenly jumps in at least a fourfold increase, electrifying every circuit and subroutine in Ram's body.
Oh. Oh, he must be in even better health than he thought. Because this sort of sensation...
He is suddenly glad that his circuits are, for now, still misaligned. And that Flynn has never shown any sign of noticing changes in circuit color anyway.
Because, oh, oh, the sensations erupting all over his skin right now should be carrying waves of embarrassingly vibrant purple in their wake, down the azure streams of his lightlines.
Flynn stands at the helm of the Recognizer and glows, like a divine being, and Ram feels pulse after pulse of power summoned toward them. He knows, deep in his code, that the broken Recognizer is rising... reassembling and repairing itself all around them, parts coming together with impacts of energy that shake him to his core.
Ram lies as still as he possibly can. Eyes wide, face almost frozen, knowing that one slip in control could let loose a groan from his throat.
This level of arousal... the shivers of tantalizing pleasure down his circuits... and the firm ache of energy-build already swelling his I/O transmitter... oh, Users. He moves only to part his legs slightly wider, easing some of the pressure forming there.
There's no precedent in his whole memory. And Ram's memory contains more experience in such matters than most other programs have.
He didn't arrive in the ENCOM system so experienced, of course. Tron was his first. It was an encounter rooted in the lonely desperation of imprisonment, at a moment when Ram himself was not yet accustomed to the needs of an ENCOM program body. Even the feeling of his User's Call was new to him, then.
Tron had to teach him about all of it. About the I/O Tower they were locked away from, and the buildup of energy and information that cried out to transmit to his User. Tron had laid gentle hands on him and shown him how, in the absence of that vital connection, they could relieve at least the energy buildup through each other's touch.
Until now, that first time was probably still the greatest pleasure Ram's ever felt. Even if it was only so great because of the newness. It was the first time he ever knew the overwhelming relief of overload... the rush of pent-up energy, bursting free in the form of blinding light and blazing electric heat.
It was the first time he fell into the sublime comfort of afterglow, letting his visual render begin to soften, disintegrate, blur into a soft cloud of energy and light. It was the first time he let himself mingle with the blur that was Tron, a warm, merging glow of feelings, as they drifted back down from the peak of their pleasure.
After that, it was always mostly a desire to pay the favor forward, whenever Ram offered the same touches and teachings to other conscripts.
Especially to those who he could tell stood no chance of survival in the Games.
It was always such an ache, to see when there wasn't any hope. When helping someone prepare for the future was a lost cause.
The only way Ram knew to alleviate that ache was to offer pleasure in place of despair. To ease the final microcycles of another program's life with the only comforts he could give.
And, even though Ram always took plenty of his own pleasure in those times... it seems the Realm of the Invisible is now paying him back a hundredfold for all the pleasure he's given others. The intensity of this power is beyond anything, anything...
...the only thing anywhere near this, in all his memory, is how it feels in the I/O Tower, in the moments before releasing one's transmission to the User. And he knows that only secondhand, from the times he's shared memory with Tron.
If that secondhand memory is anywhere near correct, then this is similar, but immeasurably stronger.
Flynn approaches the controls, now, seeming somehow just as surprised as Ram at what he's done.
"Now this looks promising," he remarks, hands on the steering mechanism. "This is just like the old arcade grips."
Ram has no idea what arcade grips are, or what could possibly be going through Flynn's mind right now. All he can think about is the burn, up and down all his own circuits; the fast pulse of desire calling out between his legs for the I/O Tower, for the touch of a User, for things he's spent his entire life longing for. He knows, right now, no ordinary program's touch could relieve this need.
Whatever this is, it may kill him. Holding him on the brink of overload, with no possibility of release, until he burns himself to oblivion.
But for all his surprise, Flynn also seems totally unaffected by the energy itself.
"Let's get this show on the road," he says, turning the controller, making Ram feel the vibrating jolt of acceleration as the Reco shudders into movement.
"Now we're smokin'!" Flynn looks back over his shoulder at Ram with that endearingly silly grin, and, oh, Ram can't bear this...
Ram's entire form trembles with the pent-up tension of his need. It's all he can do, just to hold himself together, in this shaky approximation of stillness. His own voice quavers as he drags the words out. "How can you steal a Recognizer?"
Flynn's smile turns downward.
"Hey, you okay? You don't look so good. We'll get you fixed up. Hang on."
Ram hangs on, barely hangs on.
To his sanity. To his breathing. To his whole physical render. Because underneath the shell of his skin, underneath the still-incongruously-dim lights of his injured circuitry, he is a roiling inferno, about to go up in a fireball. He feels sure that one single too-sudden motion, one too-intense feeling, would blow him apart, shatter him into a thousand pieces...
And Flynn has no idea.
But as the pressure rises to unbearable levels in the swell of his I/O circuits... as his entire skin blazes with the sensation of circuitry that ought to be strobing every needy shade of violet... Ram knows that Flynn is right.
Yes, yes, Flynn is clearly saying those words only to be comforting. Flynn has no idea how or where he can actually get Ram "fixed up." Flynn is quite obviously not aware of much, and certainly not the extent of his own power. Whatever divinity exists inside of Flynn, it hides in the invisible realm of his subconscious.
But Ram knows that down there, deeper, beneath whatever conscious processes are swirling across the surface of that enigmatic mind... Flynn can heal him. Is already healing him.
Flynn has the one last thing Ram needs, to finish the healing and save him.
Ram knows it, as deep as his core binary.
Even if Flynn still has no idea.
"Come here." Ram moves his arm vaguely, eyes still laser-focused on Flynn.
With a quick motion of his hand, Flynn shuts off the steering device and crosses the small room. And oh, Ram can feel it, the power surge closer and closer to completion, with each step toward him...
It feels like one single movement, one final step, when Flynn falls to his knees at Ram's side, grasping the hands Ram didn't even realize he was stretching out.
And that handclasp completes a circuit, a conduit of raw power that glows and rages through Ram's entire form so intensely that he goes still, totally still, for a few moments.
Then it hits him.
He arches, stiffens, hands gripping onto Flynn's as if no other solid matter exists in the universe... he cannot feel anything else, not the floor, not his injuries, nothing but the penetrating jolts of energy pulsing into him, Flynn's touch like a power source more pure and strong than any spring, any energy-wall.
The energy rips through him. Overloads him, hard, fast, in one blast of unbearable pleasure. One, then two, then a third in the space of two picocycles. Ram can't move with the pure sensation of it, the power mercilessly using his body and his mind, leaving space for nothing else.
One electrifying energy rush after another. Coursing into him so violently that it overflows him in an instant, bursting out in pulses of heat-energy that shiver from his body to leave the air charged and the floor red-hot, and still the power flows, endless... the force of his climax so unimaginable that he cannot even move, can only clench every muscle in his body in that trembling arch of submission.
It's probably just a picocycle or two but he has no real sense of time. Enough sensation is happening inside him for a thousand cycles, this is like nothing that has ever happened in this entire system...
He is vaguely aware that he's been crying out. The kinds of soft, desperate cries that he makes without control, in the wildest moments of pleasure... cries of prayer to the Users.
And, oh, Users, he knows, now, through this touch. He knows what this power is; he can no longer deny it to himself. Knows what Flynn is.
But he still needs to hear the answer, to see it in those eyes...
"Are you a User?"
A nod, a rueful smile, give Ram his affirmation... just as the flow of power into his hands finally begins to ease up.
He's still so high on it; dizzy with it.
Consciousness is falling away so fast he's disoriented. He's going to dissolve into the afterglow before he can even ask any more questions and no, no, no that can't happen because he doesn't know what will happen to him now. He might fall unconscious for a microcycle or more, after overloading like that. And he can't lose consciousness now, he can't, he still has to make sure Flynn will...
"Flynn," he murmurs, drawing on the last of his strength, as he feels his circuits finally flaring back to life, cycling irregularly through blue and red with occasional little violet aftershocks between. "...Help Tron?"
Flynn nods, again and again, mouth forming the shape of "yes" as if to say, of course I will, of course, it's all I want in the world.
And at that sight, that affirmation of his faith in the User... Ram sighs in utter relief and lets go.
He feels himself dissolve into his post-overload energy-glow, much faster, much more completely, than ever before in his life. Sucked away into it like a whirlpool. Thought is gone in an instant. Not even emotion or physical sensation follows him into it, this time. Only oblivion.
----
When Ram comes back to consciousness, lying on the ground in the bottom of the canyon, it's light that wakes him.
Otherworldly light. An eerily beautiful shimmer of blending colors he's never seen before, coursing down the channel like a river of glow.
In the moments before it washes over him, he doesn't even think of fearing it.
In the moments after, he feels it only as a pleasant warmth, and... a sense of hope.
There's some information carried in that rush of light, he realizes, sitting up shakily among the now-glimmering stones. It feels like a Change in the system. Like an I/O beam, maybe. Like a residual echo of User-power, after all of that...
Ram leaps to his feet, shaking all over.
He was touched by a User.
Touched, physically. Intimately. To the point of overload. Oh, Users. Flynn must have overloaded him straight through the floor of the Recognizer.
He's never heard of becoming that incorporeal during afterglow.
But then, he's also never heard of a User in the system... going around putting his hands on programs... pouring that kind of power into them...
Ram takes a step, still shaky. And finds that more steps come naturally to him, carrying him across the rough and shining ground.
He walks for a very long time. Walks along the floor of the canyon, no idea where he's going, just exploring, for now.
Something, he knows, must have happened while he was out.
Something... good.
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He doesn't know how long he walks, exploring the new colors and shapes and freedom of this place. It might be several microcycles, but he doesn't run out of energy, or run out of wonder.
He's crossing a strange shimmery plain, lined with glowing violet stripes, at the foot of an I/O Tower, when he finally crosses paths with the two of them.
"Tron!"
He breaks into a run, and collides with his friend in a hug that knocks them to the ground.
It's only when he comes back to his senses, recovering from how good Tron's arms feel around him, how good it feels to finally, finally, see a familiar face, feel a familiar touch, in this strange new world... that he glances up and takes an actual look at the other figure.
"Yori?"
He doesn't recognize her by sight, not really. But he's heard enough stories, even shared a few memories, from Tron, and... it can only be Yori.
She's smiling down at them, and then Ram becomes aware that he's just tackled her partner to the floor, out of nowhere. "Um. Sorry." He beams up at her, still nestled in Tron's embrace. "I'm Ram."
"I've heard about you." Yori's voice is sweet, kind. So is her face. Ram loves her immediately. But there's wonder in her voice, too. "Tron thought you were dead."
"Thank the Users," Tron's still murmuring against Ram's shoulder, arms still almost painfully tight. "Thank the Users. You remember me... That means you aren't rerezzed from a backup, right?"
"Not.... no, not exactly." Ram heats all over with a blush. He notices, in an additional surge of embarrassment, that his circuits are back to full function, showing that blush in a luminescent lavender-pink.
"But Flynn thought you derezzed?" Tron presses.
"I... I suppose he did." Ram thinks back to it.
Apparently Users aren't all-knowing. Or even, always, non-oblivious. And, from Flynn's viewpoint... if he wasn't all-knowing... and was kind of oblivious, as he'd really seemed to be... then, Ram guesses that must've looked a lot like him dying.
Ram strokes the side of Tron's face. "So, Flynn found you, afterwards?"
"Yes." There's love and joy in that smile on Tron's face.
"He helped you?"
"Yes." Tron smiles brighter.
Ram nuzzles Tron's neck. "Oh, good. That's good."
"But he's gone now," Yori adds. "He threw himself into the MCP, to distract it... to help Tron. But he didn't seem to think it would derezz him! So... maybe it didn't? If he really was a User."
"I'm sure he's fine," Ram says, feeling absolute confidence in his own voice. "I'm sure he went exactly where he needed to go."
And then, Tron's hands are on the sides of Ram's face, drawing him in close, and, oh, OH...
How did it never occur to Ram to try this, in all the times he's touched and been touched? Mouth on mouth... sharing tastes and breaths, electric sparks of sensation in the warm wet slide and pressure of lips on lips, tongues on tongues... the feel of moaning into Tron's mouth as hands clasp their faces even harder together, and oh, the deep colors of pleasure that he feels spreading into each and every circuit from this new experience...
"Shall we go home, you two?"
It's Yori's voice, Yori's delighted smile, that finally makes the two of them pull apart.
Ram blinks into Yori's gaze, grinning sheepishly. "Um. Home? Where's that?"
And she leans in, hands in Ram's hair, lips following where Tron's went... leaving a new taste, a new flavor of electricity, on Ram's tongue.
"We'll show you."
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Fanworks: Fics: Tron: The Greatest Little Deresolution
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