[closed] i thought you died alone

[alan_1]

Who: Alan Bradley and Kevin Flynn
When: Early October, after this mess
Where: The Ingress Memorial
What: Alan and Flynn catch up after 20+ years.
Warnings: SAD OLD MEN BEING SAD AND OLD.


[More than anyone, Alan has spent a long time imagining Flynn’s return. He’d wanted to be there to see that moment more than anything. He had imagined joy, relief, vindication.

He hadn’t imagined he’d be so damn scared.

He closes the door behind them in the Ingress Memorial. He hardly could’ve taken Flynn back to his own residence, given his neighbors. That he had even remembered how to get here in his current state is a miracle. He turns to face Flynn, still quietly awed at seeing his friend’s face lined with age. It’s funny; he had never realized before now that his mental image of Flynn was permanently stuck in the 80s: a mercurial young visionary rhapsodizing about changing the world. It’s almost—almost—enough to quiet the lingering fears that he’s fooled himself again.

The silence drags on, Alan still keeping his back flat to the door as if he might bolt. After a few more moments, he finally speaks.]

I’m sorry. It’s just… [A fragile flash of a smile, humor to hide a harder truth behind the words.] I think part of me is still afraid you’re going to disappear.

[It’s a concession to his own uncertainty: a moment for the dream to end or the trick to reveal itself.

They’re the only traces of Flynn he’s had for the past twenty-one years.]

Comments

[gridfather]

[ A flicker of temptation had burned in him during their retreat, the need to take Bradley by the arm, to be sure that there was flesh and blood and bone and breathing, heart-beating human User beside him, not the steady hum of circuits and neatly-arranged voxels. The side of his hand brushes Alan's sleeve, and they're back where he started, the nautilus-shell of twisted metal keeping silent vigil in this strange room.

The dust on the floor has since been disturbed by other feet. More questions, for sure.

Right now though, now's the time to put those aside. He steps in to enfold his old friend in a hug. ]

No.

[ Alan is blessedly, breathlessly mortal. Grief and regret suddenly ride high in his throat. ]

Thank you for looking after Sam.

[alan_1]

[Alan can feel his heart in his throat as Flynn approaches, some cynical corner of his mind still whispering that this isn’t happening. It’s just a dream or a trick and the second Flynn gets close enough, the illusion will fade away like it always does.

So when Flynn pulls him into a hug that is solid and warm and real, it’s all Alan can do to stand there frozen in shock for a few moments. And then Flynn murmurs his thanks and the last remnants of Alan’s stubborn disbelief leave him with a sigh. The tower of his spine crumbles forward as he finally, finally lets himself just believe, arms wrapping around a friend who has for so long been an absence by his side.]

I should’ve gone to the arcade the second I got your page. [The words come out in a choked rush of regret, his mistakes feeling all the sharper in the presence of the man he had believed dead for the past two years.] I’m so sorry, Flynn. I sent him in there.

[Sent him into the same system where Clu had shattered Tron and imprisoned Flynn. He doesn't deserve any thanks for almost damning Sam to the same fate.]

[gridfather]

Alan, no.

[ Let go, so his hands can rise to hover so briefly at Alan's face and rest, finally, on his shoulders. There's an air of deliberateness to the motion, mindful. Flynn is still and steadfast, a sharp contrast with the restless, almost manic energy he once exuded as a much younger man. ]

You didn't know. You couldn't have known.

[alan_1]

[On some level, Alan knows that Flynn is right. He had no reason to expect anything dangerous would be waiting for Sam at the arcade. But ignorance doesn’t feel like much of an excuse given the consequences. If he had just gone to check first, if he hadn’t assumed he knew best by saving it as a lesson for Sam, maybe none of it would have happened.

Maybe Flynn wouldn’t have had to die to save his son.]

You’re here now. [It’s a quiet concession, words still tinged with awe. If Alan can’t forgive his own mistakes, he can at least acknowledge that they seem far smaller next to that truth. He takes a shaky breath and manages to smile, doing his best to focus now on Flynn: his voice, his calm gaze, the solid, undeniably real weight of his hands on his shoulders.] That’s all I can ask for.

[gridfather]

Yeah. It's been a long time.

[ Alan isn't alone in his awe. The light of wonder, of admiration and unashamed joy gleam so very bright in Flynn's eyes.

Ah, heck with it. Getting teleported out of your digital prison and discovering your equally-as-grey bff is on the very same alien space station as you is one of those once in a lifetime kinda deals, so.

Have another big hug, Alan. ]