The song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDbtYSEpVXA
......................


He’s gone. Something gripped Flynn’s heart with an icy iron fist, a feeling he hadn’t had in a longer amount of time than he cared to remember.  Flynn gripped the doorframe just in time to keep himself from falling.  He stumbled back to the living room.  His lightcycle was gone.  Sam, what have you done?

Flynn felt panic rising, but just in time he remembered what to do about it, what he'd always done about it.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then another, focusing on the feel of the air entering and leaving his lungs, and the slight sound it made, and slowly he came back to center.  Soon, his breathing wasn't forced, and he was able to think rationally.

What first?  Figure out what to do.  Find him.  Get him back.  He doesn't know what he's walking into, no, running into, full-tilt.  He doesn't understand how dangerous it is...  Flynn sat and stared out at the sky; it held no solutions for him, never had, but that didn't mean he hadn't kept looking over the years, as if there might be some message up there that he just hadn't found yet.  No wonder the ancients had given way to astrology-- in all that vast space, there must be some answer.  And though Flynn knew better, still he looked.  

When he'd seen Sam standing there-- for a moment, while his conscious mind was asking why Quorra had brought a stranger to him, had risked their safety, something deep inside him was crying out in recognition-- he'd felt things.  Flynn hadn't allowed himself emotions in a very long time.  It was easier to forget, to go numb, to slide into the kind of lethargy he'd been trapped by all this time.  When it began to hurt, he would simply meditate until the calm returned.  Finally he even stopped dreaming about Tron and Sam, and Flynn and his mind and his memories had reached some sort of uneasy truce.

And then Sam had shown up.  Here.  He was here.  And Flynn remembered what happiness was.  And realized he hadn't dared to think he might ever feel it again.

But Sam had pushed him.  Sam was young, impulsive... it was to be expected.  Flynn was the same way at his age.  Couldn't sit still, always had to be doing something, fixing things, finding answers-- now.  It wasn't until he'd been exiled here that he realized that sometimes, running off half-cocked wasn't always the best method for solving a problem.  He'd tried to tell that to Sam, but the apple clearly didn't fall far with this one, and so Sam wouldn't listen.  And now he was gone.

Go after him.  Don't lose him again.  Flynn was resolved, didn't have to think twice.  He stood, closed his eyes briefly and concentrated, and when he opened them again, his clothing was now black.  Black for stealth.  Black to signal a change.  Black for a fight.

He walked out onto the patio and stared at the city.  He hadn't been there for so long... he'd stopped counting the days long ago.  Turning to look behind him, into the place that had been his home since Clu's betrayal, he considered the main room, saw it with new eyes.  This small house had been his entire existence for far too long.  He had Quorra, but she was only one person, and a restless one at that; she didn't like being cooped up all the time and often took the lightrunner into the Outlands.  Or even the city.  As the song said: two can be as bad as one-- it's the loneliest number since the number one. And while he loved Quorra-- she was like a daughter and a friend to him, all rolled into one-- he still missed Sam.  One person, no matter how dear, can never be a substitute for another, and Flynn felt Sam's absence in his life acutely for a long time.  And so they were stuck out here.

Flynn's world had shrunk exponentially.  After a while he didn't even bother to venture into the Outlands anymore.  Despair had laid him low.  Of all places, his own mind was where he found the most space and freedom... until now.  Sam had come.  And Flynn's entire world changed.

Sam was a breath of fresh air injected into a stale room, a beam of light in a dim existence.  He had stepped out of Flynn's dreams and memories and become real, solid flesh and blood.  After years of visions of hugging Sam and waking to find his arms only filled with empty air, that he'd been reaching for a ghost, Sam had appeared here larger than life, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in Flynn's ears as Flynn held him close, reality flooding in and washing away the cobwebs of years' worth of malaise.  Flynn still found him impulsive, but his presence made Flynn realize what he'd given up all that time ago when he'd chosen apathy-- life.

He saw it now.  He'd picked the easy way out.  He'd hidden behind non-action as if it were the answer, the only answer.  It was the safe answer.  Easier than finding another way.  Kevin Flynn had always thought outside the box, looked for all the loopholes.  But for once, everything had just gotten to be too much, and he'd been too tired to fight.  Too tired to fight for himself, for the Grid, for his future.  And he'd become so accustomed to that apathy, that earlier he'd been willing to throw away everything for Sam as well, Sam's future.  Had been ready to quietly resign Sam to the same catatonia, the same endless hell of existence.

Bless Sam.  He refused to go gentle into that good night.  And wouldn't let Flynn go, either.  He'd walked in here, bright, vital, dynamic, and had shaken up Flynn's calm, indifferent Zen world, and Flynn had finally opened his eyes.  And now he was going to go, into whatever might await him out there, and he was going to get Sam back.  Flynn had finally regained what he'd dreamed of and wanted for so long.  He wasn't going to let Sam go again.  Clu.  You took everything from me.  But it ends now.  You can't have my son.

Wasn't it funny that Flynn had spent all this time out here because he was afraid that in fighting Clu, he would lose his life... and now that he had something to live for, now that the danger was greater than ever, he didn't care anymore what he might lose as long as there was still Sam?  Wasn't it funny that while Flynn had progressively felt more and more like an old man-- he certainly wasn't getting any younger, as slow as time seemed to move in here-- now he felt more full of life than he had in as long as he could remember?

He took one last look at the sky.  It was time to leave doubt and fear and indecision-- and yes, non-action-- behind.  It was time to stop living on dreams and memories. It was time to fight for the Grid, to do what he should have done all those years and cycles ago.  It was time to reclaim Kevin Flynn.  It was time to get his son back.

He heard a sound behind him and saw Quorra step out onto the patio.  Her eyes were wide, and in them he saw that she understood what he planned to do.  He spoke first, before she could say anything in protest.

“Prepare the lightrunner, Quorra.  We're going downtown.”

Chaos.  Good news.




Carry me away from this dark and lonely room
Light me in your arms - all I want to know is you
Chase away the darkness with everything you are
I will find my strength in the beat of your heart

Picture book of memories, how we used to be
Some people spend a lifetime waiting for their dreams
But I won't find the answers by looking at the stars
I will find my strength in the beat of your heart

Time held in our hands
Will change into years gone by
If I can hold on to you
I'll leave all my fears behind

Holding on we drift like two flowers on the sea
Riding on the waves letting go of what will be
I won't find the answers by staring at the stars
I've found all my dreams in the beat of your heart


…...............


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
...
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Kat Wrote:The song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDbtYSEpVXA ...................... He’s gone. Something gripped Flynn’s heart with an icy iron fist, a feeling he hadn’t had in a longer amount of time than he cared to remember. Flynn gripped the doorframe just in time to keep himself from falling. He stumbled back to the living room. His lightcycle was gone. Sam, what have you done? Flynn felt panic rising, but just in time he remembered what to do about it, what he'd always done about it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then another, focusing on the feel of the air entering and leaving his lungs, and the slight sound it made, and slowly he came back to center. Soon, his breathing wasn't forced, and he was able to think rationally. What first? Figure out what to do. Find him. Get him back. He doesn't know what he's walking into, no, running into, full-tilt. He doesn't understand how dangerous it is... Flynn sat and stared out at the sky; it held no solutions for him, never had, but that didn't mean he hadn't kept looking over the years, as if there might be some message up there that he just hadn't found yet. No wonder the ancients had given way to astrology-- in all that vast space, there must be some answer. And though Flynn knew better, still he looked. When he'd seen Sam standing there-- for a moment, while his conscious mind was asking why Quorra had brought a stranger to him, had risked their safety, something deep inside him was crying out in recognition-- he'd felt things. Flynn hadn't allowed himself emotions in a very long time. It was easier to forget, to go numb, to slide into the kind of lethargy he'd been trapped by all this time. When it began to hurt, he would simply meditate until the calm returned. Finally he even stopped dreaming about Tron and Sam, and Flynn and his mind and his memories had reached some sort of uneasy truce. And then Sam had shown up. Here. He was here. And Flynn remembered what happiness was. And realized he hadn't dared to think he might ever feel it again. But Sam had pushed him. Sam was young, impulsive... it was to be expected. Flynn was the same way at his age. Couldn't sit still, always had to be doing something, fixing things, finding answers-- now. It wasn't until he'd been exiled here that he realized that sometimes, running off half-cocked wasn't always the best method for solving a problem. He'd tried to tell that to Sam, but the apple clearly didn't fall far with this one, and so Sam wouldn't listen. And now he was gone. Go after him. Don't lose him again. Flynn was resolved, didn't have to think twice. He stood, closed his eyes briefly and concentrated, and when he opened them again, his clothing was now black. Black for stealth. Black to signal a change. Black for a fight. He walked out onto the patio and stared at the city. He hadn't been there for so long... he'd stopped counting the days long ago. Turning to look behind him, into the place that had been his home since Clu's betrayal, he considered the main room, saw it with new eyes. This small house had been his entire existence for far too long. He had Quorra, but she was only one person, and a restless one at that; she didn't like being cooped up all the time and often took the lightrunner into the Outlands. Or even the city. As the song said: two can be as bad as one-- it's the loneliest number since the number one. And while he loved Quorra-- she was like a daughter and a friend to him, all rolled into one-- he still missed Sam. One person, no matter how dear, can never be a substitute for another, and Flynn felt Sam's absence in his life acutely for a long time. And so they were stuck out here. Flynn's world had shrunk exponentially. After a while he didn't even bother to venture into the Outlands anymore. Despair had laid him low. Of all places, his own mind was where he found the most space and freedom... until now. Sam had come. And Flynn's entire world changed. Sam was a breath of fresh air injected into a stale room, a beam of light in a dim existence. He had stepped out of Flynn's dreams and memories and become real, solid flesh and blood. After years of visions of hugging Sam and waking to find his arms only filled with empty air, that he'd been reaching for a ghost, Sam had appeared here larger than life, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in Flynn's ears as Flynn held him close, reality flooding in and washing away the cobwebs of years' worth of malaise. Flynn still found him impulsive, but his presence made Flynn realize what he'd given up all that time ago when he'd chosen apathy-- life. He saw it now. He'd picked the easy way out. He'd hidden behind non-action as if it were the answer, the only answer. It was the safe answer. Easier than finding another way. Kevin Flynn had always thought outside the box, looked for all the loopholes. But for once, everything had just gotten to be too much, and he'd been too tired to fight. Too tired to fight for himself, for the Grid, for his future. And he'd become so accustomed to that apathy, that earlier he'd been willing to throw away everything for Sam as well, Sam's future. Had been ready to quietly resign Sam to the same catatonia, the same endless hell of existence. Bless Sam. He refused to go gentle into that good night. And wouldn't let Flynn go, either. He'd walked in here, bright, vital, dynamic, and had shaken up Flynn's calm, indifferent Zen world, and Flynn had finally opened his eyes. And now he was going to go, into whatever might await him out there, and he was going to get Sam back. Flynn had finally regained what he'd dreamed of and wanted for so long. He wasn't going to let Sam go again. Clu. You took everything from me. But it ends now. You can't have my son. Wasn't it funny that Flynn had spent all this time out here because he was afraid that in fighting Clu, he would lose his life... and now that he had something to live for, now that the danger was greater than ever, he didn't care anymore what he might lose as long as there was still Sam? Wasn't it funny that while Flynn had progressively felt more and more like an old man-- he certainly wasn't getting any younger, as slow as time seemed to move in here-- now he felt more full of life than he had in as long as he could remember? He took one last look at the sky. It was time to leave doubt and fear and indecision-- and yes, non-action-- behind. It was time to stop living on dreams and memories. It was time to fight for the Grid, to do what he should have done all those years and cycles ago. It was time to reclaim Kevin Flynn. It was time to get his son back. He heard a sound behind him and saw Quorra step out onto the patio. Her eyes were wide, and in them he saw that she understood what he planned to do. He spoke first, before she could say anything in protest. “Prepare the lightrunner, Quorra. We're going downtown.” Chaos. Good news. Carry me away from this dark and lonely room Light me in your arms - all I want to know is you Chase away the darkness with everything you are I will find my strength in the beat of your heart Picture book of memories, how we used to be Some people spend a lifetime waiting for their dreams But I won't find the answers by looking at the stars I will find my strength in the beat of your heart Time held in our hands Will change into years gone by If I can hold on to you I'll leave all my fears behind Holding on we drift like two flowers on the sea Riding on the waves letting go of what will be I won't find the answers by staring at the stars I've found all my dreams in the beat of your heart …............... Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ... And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I really liked this. Excellent incite on Flynn's thoughts on his inaction and Sam's arrival/departure from the safehouse.abortion pills online http://www.kvicksundscupen.se/template/default.aspx?abortion-questions cytotec abortion

I enjoyed this one. I do feel like Flynn had ceased living and moved to existing during his many long years in the Grid. While I can completely understand the value in a person learning they cannot do everything, that sometimes others are more suited to the job (such as the resistance), I don't feel like that was the case here, despite Clu's using Flynn against himself. Sam's plan, while not the best, was at least more than "sit around and wait for someone else to do it."

I actually think there is something alike in Flynn and Sam's nature in the inaction, in a way. Although there's no war on, of course, Sam is doing similarly when it comes to Encom and his life. His shrinking world is in people - there's Alan and Marv and I think that's about it. And Sam has a problem with Encom, but only pranks them instead of trying to affect real change. They aren't identical - not saying that, but I do think finding each other brought life back into both of their lives, in a way.