Fandom: Tron: Legacy
Warnings/Triggers: Rape recovery
Kinkmeme Prompt: Sam gets captured by CLU and is rescued, but not before CLU gets to have his devious rapey ways with the boy. Cue Flynn trying his hardest to comfort and take care of his son in the aftermath.
He's standing in front of his father, his real father this time, being hugged and held and everything is fine, is going to be fine now. Sam can't bring his arms up to embrace the man in return, can only take deep, shuddering breaths as Quorra explains what's happened.
“Clu had him on the Lightcycle grid. I intervened.”
Not soon enough...
Kevin Flynn is asking what brought him here and Sam hears himself answering something about the page, the page that Alan received, but everything is starting to go tunnel-shaped and blurry with more than just the tears in his eyes. He knows it's his father here with him now but all he can see and feel is
cold hands moving over his skin, the bodysuit disintegrating as the man with his father's face sneers down at him, holds him down
The older man is moving away now, saying something about dinner and suddenly all the adrenaline that has been keeping Sam going until now drains out of his body in a shaky rush. “D-dad...?” His own voice sounds very far away and the glowing floor is suddenly very close and Quorra's arms are around him, keeping him from hitting his head. She's calling for Kevin and he feels his father's hands on him, gathering him up into his arms, and he knows, he knows they aren't the same hands, but he can't stop himself from jerking away, still feeling
his wrists bound to bedposts but there's nothing soft beneath him, only hard metal and it's all cold as the man moves over him, that familiar-strange face laughing, mocking
Sam hasn't eaten much today (today? Tonight? Is it still...?) but what little there is comes up onto the pristine white floor by Quorra's knees. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, trying to murmur an apology as his father's hand rubs over his back. He shudders hard, tries not to feel it, tries not to let his memory associate that touch with
the electric tingle of Clu's fingers, touching, penetrating, violating
He can't see, can't move, consumed by the touch and too-recent memory. Dimly, he hears Quorra asking what's wrong and hears his father telling him to just breathe, hold on to him, everything's gonna be fine, but then it all goes gray and for the moment, he feels nothing.
Kevin Flynn sits on the edge of the bed, watching the boy, the man, his son, sleep fitfully. A moan drifts from Sam's lips and Kevin reaches to take his hand, holding tightly, feeling Sam's fingers twitch and curl around his own. “What happened to him, Quorra?” he asks, inclining his head just a bit toward the program standing anxiously to one side.
“I... I don't know,” she answers truthfully, her eyes wide. “I heard the announcement that Clu had captured a User, and that they were going to put him on the games. I got there right as they were starting. He seemed all right then, just confused about what he was supposed to do.”
Kevin nods, his thumb moving in small, soothing circles over Sam's hand. There is a way... it would be an invasion, and it would be better if Sam could tell him what happened, but his son doesn't seem to be in much of a state to be telling him anything right now. And he needs to know...
“His disk,” he says softly. “Let me see his disk.”
Quorra helps him roll Sam onto his side, and the boy thrashes and cries out softly as he's moved. Kevin's hand stroking his hair seems to calm him, though, and he soon rests again, his breathing becoming more even. The skin on his face and neck is flushed, hot and dry, and Kevin asks Quorra to fetch cool water and a cloth. She complies readily, hurrying out of the room, and Kevin is grateful.
He doesn't want her to see whatever might be shown on this disk.
Taking a deep breath, he flicks his fingers over the glowing surface, calling up the most recent entries. He sees Sam going into the old arcade, sees him being sucked into the Grid, captured by the guards, forced into the games... he smiles just a little, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. He skips ahead just a little, frowning as he views Sam's meeting with Clu. Something about the way the program made Sam think he was him for a short time makes Kevin irrationally angry. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to move on.
“I'm not your father, Sam. But I'm very, very happy to see you.”
Kevin watches, feeling an increasing sense of horror as Sam is dragged into a small side room. He watches from Sam's eyes as he's bound, hears his yells of protest, sees Clu's smirking face above him, can almost feel Sam's horror and pain and disgust and he knows exactly what happened to him...
He quickly turns the video feed off as he hears the door open behind him. Quorra doesn't need to see this... she wouldn't understand, and he doesn't want to explain.
“Is Sam Flynn all right?” Quorra's voice is soft as she moves to his side, setting the requested items on the side table. She tilts her head to one side, observing the expression that Kevin can feel on his own face. “Are you all right?”
Kevin takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. Be still. Be calm. For Sam's sake, if nothing else. “He was hurt by Clu,” he says, finally. “But we're going to help him now.”
When Sam comes back to awareness, he's lying on something soft, and something cool is resting on his forehead. He can hear hushed voices beside him, and he strains to focus on the words, though he quickly determines it doesn't matter. His father's voice is distinct, soothing, calming, nothing like that... that thing that touched him...
laughing harshly, mocking, cold voice, cold body, electric cold hands everywhere all over him
He gasps and jolts, having drifted into a dark half-sleep again, the memories too vivid in that dream state. Struggling against the blankets covering him, he pushes himself upright, feeling constricted, his chest tight and heavy, his breath catching.
“Easy, kiddo.” A hand rests on his shoulder, large and warm even through the thick fabric of his strange clothing, steadying him, and he forces himself not to pull away. “You're okay now. You're safe here.” He can feel his father's presence next to him, but he can't look at him yet, can't see that older face that seems so much like that one
sneering down at him, speaking in his father's voice, saying dirty, horrible things
Sam drops his head, draws in a few gulps of air, and slowly the room stops spinning around him. A glass is pressed into his hand, and he brings it to his mouth, willing his hand to stop shaking enough so that he can sip the faintly-glowing blue liquid. It's cool and tingles slightly on his tongue, and he feels better as it washes the foul taste from his mouth and settles his stomach. Quorra takes the glass from him when he's finished, setting it on the bedside table before sitting beside him, her eyes wide and curious in her pale face, questions on her lips that Sam doesn't want to answer, not now, not ever.
He feels his father's hand on his back again, sliding the identity disk into place, and he looks at him sharply, finally meeting his eyes. The terrible sadness in that older face tells him everything he never wanted to know... his father saw it all. Sam feels like crying, but he won't, he presses his lips in a firm line and jerks his chin up slightly.
The older Flynn nods, just faintly. I saw.
Sam's eyes flicker over to the girl, still sitting beside him, looking between father and son with confusion. Did she...?
A quick shake of the head. No.
Sam slumps in relief, sliding back down onto the pillows. He doesn't want to sleep again, not yet, the memories too vivid in his dreams. But everything hurts right now... and if he could just close his eyes again...
The touch on his arm makes him twitch and flinch away before he can stop himself. He blinks and looks up at his father, then forces a smile that he knows looks fake, forces his hand to move and curl around his dad's fingers. “I'll be okay,” he says with more conviction than he feels. Right now, he feels like falling apart or being sick again or maybe going out and killing that bastard or just going home and forgetting this place and maybe it'll just be a bad dream after all. His fingers are clutching his father's hand tightly, too tight, and he knows he has to be hurting him, but the older man doesn't complain, simply wraps his other hand around Sam's, pulling it to his chest and holding it there, sharing warmth.
“Course you will,” Flynn says, and Sam knows he's doing the same, projecting more confidence than he feels. He appreciates the effort, and moves his fingers just a little against his father's hand.
Quorra shifts beside him, and Sam turns his attention to her after a moment. “Clu... hurt you?” she asks, her voice quiet. He knows she's curious, knows she's worried, but he can't, he can't tell her what happened. It would be best if she never knew.
At least his father understands that.
“Yeah, he did.” Sam tries out another shaky smile, attempting to reassure her. “He's... not a good guy, huh?” He looks to his father, questions in his eyes and on his lips. “You always told me about him, though. Tron and Clu... they helped you, right? What happened? Who is he? Why... why...?”
Kevin closes his eyes a moment, then begins to speak.
He tells Sam of the Grid, things he already knew or had figured out... when he was going to “the office,” that he was really coming there. He speaks of the “miracle,” the ISOs, then Clu's betrayal and Tron's demise. There's more, about the portal, about the disk, but Sam barely hears that. Sam watches his father's face, trying to memorize every wrinkle, every line, trying to wipe the memory of the younger version of that face
smirking above him, hands pinning him down, forcing him open
He shudders and draws in a shaky breath, interrupting the end of his father's story. “Sam...?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Just...” He swallows and starts to sit up, and immediately both Kevin and Quorra's hands are on his shoulders and back, helping him. Reaching for the drink by the bed again, he tries to calm. He hates feeling like this, hates feeling weak and sick and hurt and powerless and he needs to do something or he's going to go crazy with it. “I hate this!” he bursts out, throwing the glass across the room and watching it shatter in a glowing mess against the white wall. “I keep... I keep seeing it and feeling it and I can't stop it and dad, dad, can't we just go home now?”
He's shaking, shaking so hard he thinks he'll fly apart, teeth chattering with the force of it, like he's cold and will never be warm again. His father's arms are warm and strong, and Sam buries his face in his shoulder, fists balled in the coarse white fabric at his back.
Kevin holds his son, hands moving in slow, comforting circles over his back as he tries to ease the tremors still wracking his body. A shifting on the bed catches his attention, and he meets Quorra's eyes as she kneels beside Sam, anxious and eager to help. He shakes his head just slightly.
Right now, even he doesn't know what to do. He may be the Creator here, but right now he's only a father with a hurt son, a son he hasn't seen in twenty years. He can't just program a few lines of code to fix him... this is going to take much more than even the comfort and care he can provide here.
He has to get Sam home. No matter what the cost.
“Quorra,” he says softly. “You told me once about a program who might be able to help us. Zuse? We're going to see him.”
Quorra's eyes grow wide. “You can't! As soon as you're on the Grid, Clu will...”
“I know that.” He cuts her off, still holding Sam tightly in his arms. Sam has stilled now, and by the slight tilt of his head, he can tell his son is listening to the conversation. He also knows that this is exactly what Clu wants, what he's planned all along by hurting Sam like this, but he'll be damned if he's going to let his son out of his sight for one moment right now. “It doesn't matter. Get the light-runner and my light-cycle ready. We're going into town.”
To her credit, Quorra doesn't argue further. With an inclination of her head, she acquiesces, and slides off the bed to follow his orders. Once she's gone, Flynn lets out a heavy sigh and strokes his hand lightly down Sam's back again. “You doing okay there, kiddo?”
Sam draws in a shaky breath and lifts his head, not quite meeting Kevin's eyes. It hurts, but he can understand why it would be difficult for his son to look at him. After all, it was a program with his face who...
No. He can't think about it right now. Sam... Sam is the important thing.
“I've been better,” Sam says, a faint hint of dry humor back in his tone, though his voice is raspy. Kevin forces himself to chuckle, resting his hand on the back of Sam's neck.
“No kidding.” He rests his forehead lightly against Sam's, feels the faint fever, wonders again if he's making the right choice. “Quorra's right, you know,” he says softly. “This is exactly what Clu wants... he wants me on the Grid, you and me, heading for that portal. He's gonna stop at nothing to get this disk, just so he can get to our world. Not a good thing, man. Guy doesn't dig imperfection... and what's more imperfect than our world?” He's rambling now, he knows it, but Sam's so quiet and still, he needs something to fill the silence. Funny, how he'd trained himself to appreciate calm, stillness, quiet, and now all he wants is to hear another word from his boy. “We could just wait it out, let the resistance take care of Clu. We'd be safe here...”
“No!” The word is spoken sharply, and Sam jerks away, his eyes wide. “No... we're going home, you said we're going...!” He's shaking again, and Kevin quickly moves to grab his hands, holding them tightly.
“We're going. Don't worry. I was just... talking.” He smiles, hoping to reassure Sam, trying to stop those convulsive tremors that keep making his son's teeth chatter as though he's freezing. Finally, after a long moment, Sam takes a deep, shuddering breath and pulls one hand away, raking it through his short hair.
“Sorry, dad. It's all just so...” He shrugs helplessly, and Kevin squeezes his shoulder.
“I know. Just hang in there.”