Chapter Text
Tron expects a lot of bizarre things to happen, most of them dangerous to himself or the other programs of the Grid, but he does not expect Beck to show up after a scouting mission cradling a tiny Grid cat in his arms.
“Beck,” he began. “What’s that in your arms?” Tron leveled the other program with an unimpressed stare, arms crossed.
“Um.” Beck shifted on his feet, clearly nervous. “I found this little Grid cat while I was out scouting, and I, um. Brought it with me?” He searched Tron’s face for a reaction, whose features remained in an unimpressed grimace. Like always.
Tron simply raised an eyebrow.
Beck glanced away before looking down at the bundle in his arms, curled up and unresponsive - probably in a forced rest cycle. “Look, I couldn’t just leave it! It was all alone, and it looked hungry! Please, Tron, it needs a place to stay and I can’t keep it at the garage! Able will kill me and the cat would only get in the way.”
Tron sighed deeply, closing his eyes and slowly opening them. It had been a long cycle, his code was aching, he could feel his scars crawling up his neck, and he just wanted to sink into his energy tank and power off some subroutines for a while. He should have known better than to assume Beck would stay out of trouble. It looked hungry? Tron struggled enough to smuggle the energy he needed to keep his wounds at bay, how was he going to find the resources to keep a grid cat alive? And if he let the thing stay here? Would Beck take it as a sign that it was okay to bring every Flynn-forsaken Grid creature to the hideout to seek refuge? What a mess.
“Tron? Hey, Tron, you in there? You spaced out for a mili.” Beck was still holding the grid cat, and his head was tilted in query.
“I’m fine, Beck. It’s just been a long cycle.” He walked towards Beck, who opened his arms to allow a better view of the sleeping cat. It looked so… peaceful. The cat had tiny chunks of code missing, a sure sign of a frantic life in the city, and its circuits were dull, but it truly seemed to trust Beck - otherwise it wouldn’t have let itself be captured, Tron was sure of that. It reminded Tron of another life.
Glitch it.
“Fine. The Grid cat can stay here.” Beck grinned, a dazzling display of youthful exuberance. “ But, ” Tron began, holding up a finger in warning, “only until its wounds have healed. Then we’ll decide what to do with it.” He watched Beck’s smile widen, and he nodded in agreement, practically radiating happiness and relief.
Tron turned to leave, striding towards a hallway off to the left, motioning for Beck to follow. “Before you ran into our… friend here, what did you learn?”
“Not much, to be honest. The occupation has been scrambling to reassemble after our last strike. The pseudo-virus worked just like a charm. They’ll be out of commission for the next couple of cycles.”
“Good, good. But don’t start relaxing, Beck. They could be planning something.” Tron turned a corner into another hallway and stopped in front of a doorway. “Keep an eye out. Did you see anyone you recognized?”
“No, just the standard-” Beck stopped speaking once he and Tron stepped past the doorway. Inside was a room, comforting and cozy like an apartment in the city - entirely unlike the cold edges and echoey chambers of the rest of Tron’s hideout. “What,” Beck began, “is this? ”
The room wasn’t large, but it was tastefully decorated. Shelves stood against the back wall, though they were mostly filled with spare parts and bits of code, clearly an abandoned project, or, at the very least, junk storage. Next to the door, a pristine couch and two matching armchairs surrounded a low table that was stacked with datapads and more bits of code in a similar state of abandon as those found on the shelves - despite the presence of a work table nestled against the far wall. The work table had an array of tools cluttered on it, and a decommissioned Bit lay haphazardly on the edge, looking like it would roll off the table at half a thought. Across from the couch, a large monitor hung on the wall, ready to display information or alerts to whatever program found themselves in the room. Though it appeared to be lived in, the room had a distinct air of disuse.
Tron must be in a lot of pain , Beck thought to himself, trying to hide a wry smile. Or be incredibly lazy. Otherwise he’d never allow a mess like this.
“It’s a living room, Beck. Haven’t you seen one before?”
Beck scoffed. “Of course I have! But I didn’t know… I didn’t think that, you know…” He trailed off, clearly embarrassed, but tried to hide it by looking around the room.
“What, Beck? You thought I just lived in the energy tank all the time?”
“Well, no… maybe. A little bit.”
Tron rolled his eyes, though there wasn’t any real exasperation or annoyance about it, simply an old habit that came from working with Flynn for so long. He knelt in front of the low table and scooped as much junk as he could off of it as he could. “Put the grid cat on the table, please. I’d like to examine its wounds.”
“Oh, sure.” Beck gently placed the still-sleeping cat flat on the table, frowning slightly at its state. He thought that the trip over here and the arrival to Tron’s base would have woken it up by now. He watched as Tron unceremoniously dumped the spare parts in his arms onto one of the armchairs.
When Tron turned around, he froze. One of the cat’s legs was missing. Poor thing. What happened to you?
He knelt at the low table once again, slowly and more carefully this time. He reached out a hand to pet the grid cat’s flank gently before he tapped at the cat’s identity chip, nestled in its flank - as most were for the various animal programs of the Grid. Error messages popped up instantly, and Tron sighed deeply. His work was cut out for him this time. “Beck, would you grab me my tools?”
Tron didn’t wait for a response. He began scrolling through each message from the cat’s code and running diagnostic scans in the background. He worked carefully, taking his time with each individual malfunction. The tiny scrapes in the cat’s code slowly began to reform on their own after a little meddling, but the larger, more internal injuries would take somewhat more finesse.
Beck had placed various tools from the workbench on the far end of the table where Tron was working, and he now sat in the clean armchair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, elbows on his knees as he quietly watched his mentor at work. Had he the expertise, Beck would have offered to help, but his experience lay with vehicles; a careless hand would only lead to a smarting spark or a pinched finger on a light cycle, but a creature of the Grid… it could mean deresolution. So, he sat, and he observed. Besides, if Tron needed any help, he would ask. At least, Beck hoped he would.
After a long period of silence accented only by occasional sounds of Tron’s tools being moved, the Grid cat’s circuits began to stutter into brightness. Leaning back, Tron sighs heavily through his nose and stretches his arms. He opened his mouth to inform Beck, but when Tron looked over, his apprentice had fallen asleep in the chair.
“Beck,” says Tron softly, with a sort of fondness he surprised himself with. “Wake up.”
Beck’s circuits flashed slightly as he opened his eyes, returning from a light rest cycle. “How’s the cat?”
“She’ll be just fine. Aside from her leg, she’s back to perfect functionality. She just needs a moment to boot up again.” Both programs turned their tired gazes towards the cat.
A beat passed. Two. Three.
Beck held his breath, and Tron clenched his jaw.
And then the Grid cat twitched, her circuits flaring a blinding bright blue before calming once more.
Beck and Tron relaxed and watched as the little cat opened her eyes.
“Thank Flynn,” Beck whispered. “I was so worried about you, little one!” He extended a cautious hand, palm up and open as Tron watched.
The cat slowly rose to her feet, untrusting of the strange programs that towered over her, but sniffed warily at Beck’s fingers nonetheless.
“Mmrp?” The cat chirped and nuzzled Beck’s hand, hopping forward on the table to reach him.
Grinning, Beck looked at Tron. “Isn’t she cute?”
“Very,” Tron replied, raising an eyebrow in attempts to hide a smirk. He watched as Beck gently pet the cat and mumbled loving praise to her as she cautiously began to explore her surroundings. She sniffed at Tron’s discarded tools, though she kept a watchful eye on her surroundings. Eventually, the Grid cat turned her attention towards Tron. She blinked at him and abruptly leapt into Beck’s lap.
Laughing, Beck said to Tron, “No appreciation for hard work in this house, huh?”
“And you’re surprised by this?”
Beck only laughed harder as he placed a gentle hand on the cat’s side, stroking it.
The three sat in silence for a while, though Beck and Tron remained sitting while the cat explored her new surroundings.
Eventually, the cat grew more bold, warming up to her new companions. She jumped up on the back of the couch and flicked her tail before jumping on Tron’s shoulders, claws out.
“Ow!” Tron reached behind himself and grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck. Beck looked on, his expression torn between horror and laughter. “I. Am not furniture, you little Grid bug. Try again.” He put her down on the table, and Beck watched as program and cat stared each other down. Truly, it was a sight to behold.
Beck cleared his throat awkwardly, his time as the Renegade telling him that a fight was about to break out. “It’s getting late, I should probably head back to Argon now. Are you two going to be alright?”
The cat sat back on her haunches, conceding the battle of will - for now. Tron nodded to Beck. “We’ll be fine here. Travel safe, Beck. I’ll lock up after you leave.”
Beck nodded and pet the cat one last time before he turned and left the living room. Before long, the slam of a door echoed through the base.
“Well.” Tron stood up and crossed his arms. “Now what, little Grid bug?”