tanks4thememory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tanks4thememory) wrote2020-12-09 10:29 pm
tanks4thememory) wrote2020-12-09 10:29 pm
Two heads are better than one
Who: Clu1 and Clu 2 (a_perfect_end)
The life and times- and sexytimes of Clus One and Two in the ABO universe, collected here for the sake of convenience and avoiding page clutter. Multiple scenarios, lots of fun. Mostly of the NSFW variety.
Where: Their User world abode and possibly other places
When: Some undetermined time post Legacy and after this thread
What: ABO sexytimes and maybe other things; a Clu on Clu catchall
Warnings: VERY NSFW. Multiple kinks, ABO related warnings, sorta incest depending how you view programs from the same User, basically enter at your own risk if you're not into that sort of thing
The life and times- and sexytimes of Clus One and Two in the ABO universe, collected here for the sake of convenience and avoiding page clutter. Multiple scenarios, lots of fun. Mostly of the NSFW variety.
Re: Fractured {angst; hospital setting; injury; possible substance use references}
Clu took a breath that did nothing to slow his racing processes and opened clenched hands that still burned harsh halogen gold. He closed and opened them again, swatting down the urge to force a bit-level scan of the room. As it was, he scraped it with a sweep that returned an alarming number of active scans and readouts, as well as a power level that flickered higher under his attention. There was a dense flow of energy moving under the floor, drawn and directed by the complex code of the outwardly plain medical bed: surface structures there radiated a steady feed to stave off packet loss.
Clu turned and all but sprinted to the bedside.
There were three authorized units in his periphery--those must be his code-brother's assigned compilers--but their minds were on their monitors and had better stay that way, considering.
His code-brother was laid out, held captive by a truly ugly default template, not quite in vertical traction in brief dull grey with his disc balanced awkward on his chest.
There was a hole where his leg should be, capped neat in bright tape, with a matching streak of it across his arm that suggested it hid a small crater. Serious structual damage with moderate ongoing consequences: he must be in intense pain. He was clearly suffering. Only that kept Clu from shouting.
"What were you thinking?" It did for a greeting, gruff and intent. He managed a ragged breath. More than words wanted free, only he was too--frightened/angry/worried, a burst of status tightened down just to his counterpart--to do anything like cry. "You're not even cleared for--hazard crews exist, y'know...and I need you here."
--status?/ok?/worry/worry/worry--
Words were insufficient. He would simply have to demonstrate his feelings. An instant's calculation, and then Clu draped both arms over his code-brother's shoulders, neatly avoiding damage and too near to disturb it, clutched close.
And he gripped him as tight as he dared.
"I, just, need, you."
no subject
Though you wouldn't have known that from the way his code brother came tearing over to his bedside. He tried to offer a sheepish smile, but it apparently had little effect. "Hey, it's not like I planned this," he said, trying to ease the worry being sent his way on tight-band broadcast. "I was sure that wireframe would hold for long enough; I just must've miscalculated somewhere. But it's not really in a hacker's function set to worry about clearance; I saw somewhere I could help, so I-"
His justifications were abruptly cut off by his code-brother wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight. Too tight. While to his credit the admin had been careful to avoid the visible damage there was plenty that was less visible, and it was making itself known under the pressure of the admin's well-meaning grip. Torn between pain and a desire to comfort, he brought his good arm up to wrap loosely around his code-brother's back; while he could move his left one somewhat, it wouldn't quite bend enough to accomplish the task of returning the hug wrapped up as it was.
He sent a firm --status ok-- ping back, but when he spoke, his voice was somewhat strained. "I'm here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere. Though could could you maybe... urgh... hold off on any more hugs like this til I'm repaired? Not that I don't appreciate it, but... OW..."
"Yes, that would probably be for the best," a third voice agreed, as the older female program who seemed to be the senior recompiler approached the bed, looking at tablet with further readouts scrolling across its surface. "The most severe damage is to his left leg and arm, as I'm sure you can tell, but there's a degree of lower level sub-surface damage throughout much of the rest of his body as well. Nothing inherently dangerous on its own, but best not to aggravate it."
She looked up, and adjusted the thin, pale green, transparent visor that wrapped around over her eyes slightly before giving his code brother a polite nod. "Administrator," she greeted him formally. "I'm Gana, the senior recompiler at this facility. I admittedly wasn't expecting you quite so soon, but now that you're here, I can give both you and your brother his status update at once."
no subject
He'd bypassed any kind of status information and no few safety controls to arrive this quickly. He'd acted with, not no forethought, but almost none, and certainly out of desperation.
To pop in facing the drywall hadn't been great for his ego. Still. His temper wouldn't exactly help, and anyway the sight of his code-brother trussed up like that, in literal pieces, had short-circuited it entirely.
Of course the hacker had wanted to help. He was built for chance analysis and fine-tuned for narrow escapes, and he had a certain warmth, besides. He had a strong collaborative bent, and people liked him--a thing Clu himself struggled with and almost envied--except, he liked it, too.
It was one of the things that was perfect about his code-brother.
His code-brother who was trying to insist it wasn't so bad, offering up a wan, sheepish grin and some null strings about his function set that made Clu snort, just softly, even as he filed away a flag to talk about that later. Much later. When all this was over, and both the project and his code-brother were more stable.
Users granting that he got better. Certainly Clu would do everything he could to help that happen.
He leaned into the hug, trying to get hold of the way his queue raced a little for the thin patter of his right hand (his
only--) It wasn't until things came back status ok, brisk enough to sting, that Clu relaxed at all.Only, maybe he was gripping too tight? His code-brother winced with a low, pained noise.
"Oh! Yeah, I'm, sorry, I--" Clu let go instantly, pulled himself upright with a bit of a jolt. "Yeah, man. Sorry."
His title certainly snapped him to attention. If the head recompiler wanted him to keep his hands strictly to himself, it must be serious. And what she said was entirely sensible: he did not want to injure his code-brother further. He still wanted to be near him, though, to be here in a raw, literal way that ended in an awkward sort of pat to his code-brother's good hand.
She was crisp and no-nonsense, making brisk work of a data readout that crossed his eyes a little, and there was a decided square set to her shoulders that suggested he'd better not get between her and her patient.
He needed neither scans nor pings to know that making her angry would be. Counterproductive.
"Greetings," he managed, his usual--scripted, entirely rote, a touch too chipper; he could probably cough out that particular polite bit in the midst of his own deresolution. "Head Compiler Gana."
And he stepped to the side with the same sort of nod. After all, authority recognized authority.
"Highly efficient," with an approving rumble. "Please do."
no subject
His assessment of Gana was an accurate one, but she smiled slightly at having her authority in this particular part of the Grid recognized. Her expression regained its seriousness though, as she brought up a window bearing the damage readout on Clu with a few taps of her datapad, projected so that they both could see. "The patient suffered low to mid-level code fracturing to 65% of his shell and more severe damage to another 20% as a combined result of a fall from a significant height and the impact of several pieces of debris. His left leg was already derezzed below the knee when he was brought in, but we were able to stabilize it to prevent the damage from cascading any further. We were concerned that he was going to lose most of the left arm too, given the particular pattern of damage to that area, but we managed to stabilize it and keep it largely in one piece." As she described the damage, she indicated the relevant sections on the projection, aware that medical projections could be a bit cryptic to those not in her profession. "Yellow on the projection indicates mild damage, orange indicates moderate damage, and red indicates severe damage, while green is intact code."
There was... a rather alarming amount of red on the projection, unsurprisingly centered in his left leg and arm, and much of it surrounded by orange. Yellow was more evenly distributed, but really only his head and right arm seemed to be entirely in green. Gana swiped a finger across her pad to shift the projection to a different view, a sphere of multiple layers of code instead of a general physical overview. "Fortunately, when the Creator built him, he made him sturdy. As you can see here..."- she zoomed in through several different layers of code to show an inner section, one almost entirely in green- "...his core coding- directive, personality, memory, and function data- are all intact. There was some minor damage to his energy distribution algorithms, but nothing that can't be repaired by a combination of our skills and his own self-repair functions."
"In short, Administrator," she said, directing this particular comment solely to him, "I'm glad to report that your brother will live to be a helpful nuisance another millicycle." She gave him another small smile, this one of mingled amusement and reassurance. He hadn't exactly been subtle about how worried he'd been, and his earlier than expected arrival had only proved his desperation to get there. She knew very well how long it would've taken him to get there using the pointer she'd issued had he read the whole thing and used proper safeties.
The smile faded from her expression once again though as she continued. "However, I must stress that the patient still suffered serious damage, and the only reason his condition isn't any worse is how solidly he's put together. Your average data pusher would have been completely derezzed. The chances of the construction workers he helped to rescue avoiding such a fate are only somewhat better."
She directed her next comment at Clu alone. "To summarize, you're a very well-built program, but you still only survived this by a combination of sturdy coding and sheer luck, and that's not a combination of factors you want to rely on to save you in the future, am I clear?"
"Eh, luck and sturdy coding is how I've survived most of my runtime," Clu said, offering her the most charming smile he could muster under the circumstances. "Why stop now?" The smile had no effect though, and Gana simply narrowed her eyes at him, regarding him steadily that way until the smile faltered and he held up his good hand slightly in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright, message received, loud and clear."
"Good," she said. "Now, do either of you have any questions before I go over his treatment plan?"
no subject
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when his code-brother relaxed into the gentle waves of treatment with a sigh. They were taking good care of him. He held on to his code-brother's hand, careful, beaming softly for status ok clean as a hug.
Gana brightened for her due, and that was good. Clu's code-brother had been teaching him--or had reminded him, really--about the value of delegation. A perfectly run system ran perfectly when its experts were trusted to do their job.
She did not melt at all for The Smile, the overtly innocent charm that was too, too often his own kryptonite. Clu was entirely grateful for that, if a touch sheepish for her knowing grin. He'd rushed here in a panic, and other programs might've used that--pushed for leverage, stored it for a threat, or cringed at him to curry favor. She simply took it in stride.
That warmth faded with her explanation, her factual, crisp tone overlaying the grim display before them with soothing logic. There was so much red, great sizzling blocks of orange punched through it like the windows of a burning house. Only his core was intact, the rational heart of him bright and steady. He was well now, but the damage itself was dire. Gana took the time to explain to them both, regarding each one in turn with a level stare. They'd both better be on their best behavior--her patient to take his medicine, and Clu to see that he did.
She smiled at him in recognition and broke the tension: his code-brother would, in fact, live to fight another day.
Questions? He had about 1024 of them, but most he dismissed as emotional or irrelevant. Finally:
"Yes. A few: are there any special instructions beyond the treatment plan itself? How long should it be before I let him jump out of any more windows, for instance, or take a 'cycle anywhere?" Clu hummed thoughtfully and schooled his face into absolute neutrality. "And--may I have your contact information?"
no subject
At his code-brother's questions, Gana nodded. "Ideally, one would hope that any further jumping out of windows would be avoided altogether," she said somewhat wryly, "though that would likely be asking too much of programs so closely tied to the Creator. As for more standard and less inadvisable forms of physical activity, though, your brother will be restricted to data-work only for two centi-cycles following his release. That means no cycle riding, visiting the game grid as anything but a spectator, or other forms of strenuous physical activity during that period."
"Two centicycles? Seriously?", Clu interrupted. Did he survive his injuries only to be condemned to derezz from sheer boredom?
"That's the minimum recovery period recommended for damage this extensive," Gana said sternly. "If you intend to be stubborn about it, I can always make it longer."
Clu grumbled something uncomplimentary in binary, but sighed and relented with a nod. Best not to push his luck; recompilers at her clearance level had the ability to enforce their restrictions by temporarily limiting patients access if it was suspected that they would deliberately flout their advice. Plus, it was never a good idea to upset those who'd be working on your coding. Not that he thought they'd do anything unbecoming of their function, but they could be more or less gentle in their ministrations, and he preferred more.
At Clu's nod, Gana continued. "We will provide instructions for some basic stretches designed to promote optimum energy flow to the reconstructed limbs during recovery, and other gentle physical activity such as walking and micocycle to mirocycle tasks around the patient's residence should be fine in reasonable amounts. In fact, a certain level of gentle physical activity is recommended to prevent minor function lockups in reconstructed limbs. Also, we'll want him to increase his per-microcycle energy intake by 10% initially. Provided his recovery is going smoothly by that point, it can be cut back to only an extra 5% after the first centicycle if he so chooses. No high grade though; the last thing a recovering patient needs is a shock to the system, or the other complications that tend to come along with high grade consumption."
"After the two centicycle period, he'll return here for one final check, and provided we deem him sufficiently recovered, he'll be free to resume his normal functions. All this will be in the data packet we'll give the two of you on his release, along with an expected timeline for his recovery and potential issues to look out for, as well as my contact information here at the facility, as well as the contact frequency for the recompiler on duty, if I'm not personally available."
no subject
He squinted for Gana's wry tone, seasoned with experience--the value ranges were right, and her clearance level was high enough. He pondered that, and thought. She just might have met Flynn herself. Certainly that would've been a--dynamic introduction. As for never again jumping out of windows, or off cliffs into the energy springs, or, oh, from moving bikes--especially if a wager were involved--?
Clu blinked. Twice. Cleared his throat.
"Yeah, uh--" he spread his hands, too narrow and decorous for a shrug, and grinned sheepishly at her in a somewhat chagrined echo of his code-brother's charm. "I'm afraid the best we can offer is to follow your recovery instructions very," he glanced at his code-brother, "very precisely."
Though--for the binary under his counterpart's breath, Clu snickered. That, more than anything, was a good sign: his code-brother's spirits were undimmed by anything so ordinary as a mere brush with deresolution.
He listened intently for Gana's instructions, the bluster and worry of moments before fading into complete attention, and total respect for both her authority and her evident expertise. The damage, while extensive, indicated recovery possible and even likely, so long as they followed her advice.
And he fully intended to see that they did. With or without her personal number.
"Yes," nodding, abrupt and total agreement. "Absolutely no high-grade. I'll add some time for free roaming--walking only--to his duty schedule, and we'll figure out the rest."
And on a tight, tight band he flashed his code-brother the radiant image of them leaning together over the same data pad, working an urgent data allocation, busy minds and questing fingers after the same, mutual problem set...And, perhaps, an incidental packet suggesting that sometimes, just sometimes, that extra energy ration might be gently hand-fed to him on occasion by a solicitous admin.
"Don't worry," he hummed, turning that grin on his code-brother. "I'm sure we can find something interesting for you to do."
And after a moment, Clu turned a somewhat more wholesome variation of that same smile on her.
"Thank you," quiet, sincere, "Head Compiler Gana, for your diligence and hard work. You, and your team, have my gratitude."
no subject
Clu, for his part, listened to the instructions as well. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, having extra time to roam. Maybe he could explore parts of the city he seldom frequented? Or take a trip to the archives to do some data-diving; he hadn't had the time to just dig through data just for the pleasure of doing so in awhile. Or maybe...
His processes were rerouted slightly by the tight band transmission his code-brother sent him. He didn't know about huddling over a single datapad like that, but hand feeding him energy was both oddly sweet and every bit as cheeky and self-indulgent as he'd come to expect from the admin when they were alone together. Honestly sometimes he wondered if the cheekiness came from the bit of code they shared. He couldn't quite marshal the resources to send back any images of his own, but his code brother would receive a mix of affection and impertinent amusement right back before they both returned their full focus to Gana.
Gana for her part smiled slightly at the admin's words. "It's in part thanks to him that we don't have more patients on our hands tonight," she said. "So he has ours as well. As will you if you can manage to keep him on task through his recovery."
"The working copy of his code should be fully compiled by the next up cycle, and then we can really get to work. The first stage will be cleaning up all the widespread damage; not only will it make him vastly more comfortable, it'll also ensure that the more extensive reconstructions have a solid codebase and proper energy channels to connect to. As for right now, though, it's late, and it's my professional opinion that you should both likely get some rest."
"And provided you do rest," she said to the Admin, "I can make arrangements for you to stay the rest af the down cycle, if you wish. Barring another emergency, we shouldn't have need of the spare bed in this room, and while it's hardly standard procedure, given what I've seen, I imagine you both would sleep better for it under the circumstances." To say that the admin's worry had been blatantly obvious was something of an understatement, after all.
There was indeed a second bed in the room, closer to the admin's arrival point than the bed Clu currently lay in, and currently inactive and unoccupied. If two patients were to share the room, a privacy screen could be rezzed up around either one, or both, though that was hardly necessary at present. Though the screens didn't prevent anyone from entering or leaving the area around the beds, they muted most sound and visual input from outside that might disturb a patient's rest, while still allowing the recompilers easy access via scans.
"I've got no objections if he wants to stay," Clu said. Then with a bit of a smirk, he added, "Would prevent any more reckless pointer usage for the time being at least." Yeah, don't think he'd forgotten that, dear brother.
no subject
His code-brother encouraged that same energy, tweaked at his competitive nature and added a potent mix of calculated insight and the vibrant challenge of dare you, which naturally Clu couldn't refuse. They were building many good things together this way: the Argon reclamation initiative, these new dwellings, the refineries to support them all--
So. If dare you was sometimes also about, say, who cycled best from in front of the handlebars, well. It worked out in the end. Most of the time.
And Gana's demeanor with them both suggested she'd had quite a bit of practical knowledge handling similar experiences.
His code-brother had saved every program on that ledge from certain destruction. He'd put a game face on his own evident suffering, and even had some spare charm for Gana's direct, forthright assessments of exactly how close he'd come to--the end of everything.
The hacker was glitching well brave enough for the both of them. They'd make it through this yet.
Clu grinned softly, wondering how best to make a gift of his code-brother's newly enforced spare time. He had the access, and certainly his code-brother had earned the right. Maybe he'd like a tour of the repair stations, rather than asset recall? Or maybe just--the chance to wander the city, free of formal tasklists for a while--see the archives, or the gardens that were just getting sorted for next-cyle planting nearby.
And as for keeping his brother out of mischief, oh. The trick would be keeping them both busy enough--not least because even now, his code-brother was able to muster a bright burst of that warm, wry amusement Clu found so intriguing.
And for the rest of it: "Mmm. Good." Not only was he relieved that the workup of the hacker's code would be available statem; Clu ejoyed a solid plan almost as much as others might like a hot meal. "Thank you, Head Compiler. Please let me know if I can provide more than," he cleared his throat, "ah, staying out of your way, and I'll do my best."
"Rest?" He blinked. Twice. Obviously, his code-brother needed it, but--but! "I--wh--"
What could he do? What could he say? Somehow he did not think but my Grid needs me or you're not the boss of me would impress her in the least. Especially not after he'd made an idiot of himself barreling down here in a rush that would've knocked lesser programs for a loop. At least he wasn't backscattering the whole operating room anymore.
Besides, she had a point: he was well overdue for sleep mode. And also, somewhat, keeping his code-brother from achieving it. Except that--someone needed to look out for him: see to it that he got his rest. Keep him out of mischief and in good working order. And most especially to keep him company.
More than that, Gana's arch slight smile and crisp, factual tone said she knew, but was not about to make either a weapon or a favor out of helping them keep their privacy. Not that they were hiding it, but. Lesser units might have pried or wheedled. She only offered, with class and dignity.
Which was somewhat more than he had managed, bolting down here half on fire.
"I can stay?" Quietly, a little surprised. He hadn't thought it was an option. Decisively, shoulders squared: "Thank you, yes; I'll stay."
That with a lift of his chin. He could be moved, but not easily.
...Except, perhaps, by the lateness of the cycle itself. He stifled a yawn--a User leftover, weird reflex that spooked some functions--and smirked over at his code-brother.
He knew, he knew, he was never hearing the end of the pointer thing. Not that it would stop him teasing back.
"I dunno," softly. "Someone's gotta protect you from yourself."
no subject
And yes, occasionally, to see who best drove a lightcycle backwards. Because sometimes you just needed that kind of data. For reasons. And there was only one way to get it.
Right now though, Clu was content to lay where he was. The medical bed helped significantly, but most everything still hurt. It was just rendered down to the sort of dull hurt that made one not want to move much, as opposed to feeling like someone had a shock staff jammed into his left arm and side. Enough to subdue even him, but not enough to rob him of his sense of humor or all of his natural charm.
Not that Gana was impressed by said charm. Or the admin's aborted denial. The slight smile didn't falter as she waited to see if he'd actually try and counter her. To claim, to the head recompiler of this facility, that he knew better than her what a healthy amount of downtime was for a program of his caliber. Or that he got said amount of downtime regularly when her in-built scanners could glitching well read his energy levels. The latter she couldn't do anything about at present, but tonight? Tonight he was in her domain. And if he wanted to stay there, he'd play by her rules.
She did quirk an eyebrow at the odd reflex, but as it was clearly harmless, she merely nodded. "I'll go make the arrangements then," she said. "It shouldn't take long." Her smile became more amused as the two code-brothers teased one another, but she merely turned and headed out of the room, leaving her two subordinates behind to monitor things.
Clu smirked at the admn's return teasing; it was equal parts cheeky and tired. "You know, normally I'd object to that, but at the moment, I'll give it to you."
He sighed and let his head settle back on the bed's headrest. The two other recompilers in the room seemed content to pay attention to their monitors, giving him and his code-brother as much privacy as was practical. And with the urgency of the admin's arrival now canceled, and Gana out of the room, this left an air of mild awkwardness between them. Or at least it seemed so to him. "...You really were worried about me, weren't you?", he finally said. The teasing had been put aside, replaced with something more thoughtful. "I mean I figured that you'd probly come down, but not in the middle of a downcycle. And definitely not the way you did." As much as he planned to tease his code-brother about it later, he really hadn't been prepared for him to come blazing in on a pointer in a panic like that. Like he expected Clu might derezz on him if he hadn't made it there right that instant.
no subject
He nodded his thanks, but she was already on her way to finalize arrangements. Her subordinates were busy over their monitors, optimizing a dataflow he could detect but not read, not from here--and he wouldn't have pried into it. Their function was to support Gana, and hers to see that his code-brother healed as well as they could manage.
Clu would do his best to help. By fits and starts, he was learning not to interfere with experts, trusting them to know their tasklists better than he did. This was in no small part due to his code-brother's efforts, that constant and steady urge by word and deed to work together, to trust more in others and rely on their abilities without controlling them so tightly. To do better.
He'd stormed down here all ablaze, fearing the worst was in progress or had already happened, and instead he'd found an elite operating unit taking excellent care of his code-brother. He was utterly superfluous to that and maybe a bit of a risk; a delegated visitor who clearly hadn't read the whole thing--or really, any of it--before slapping Yes and launching himself at the pointer.
Raised eyebrows were the least he'd deserved from Gana, for that, and damn well better than he'd have managed if their positions were reversed.
Still. Their dedicated work and tireless expertise didn't mean his code brother was out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot--the scans of him blooming red as a fireplace poker, bitter orange like a house on fire, were proof enough of that--echoed in Gana's detailed reports and in her monitoring suite, who were still actively coordinating an impressive energy management routine, power so dense through the environment he could half feel it, even though it was tightly routed to their patient.
His code-brother, who settled back on the medical bed with a deep, gauzy sort of sigh and a slight squint, an almost tremor not quite blocked out by what had to be an intense and thorough relief script.
Clu did not stare at the network of surgical tape and instead looked down at himself, even as he moved to take his code-brother's hand.
Clu looked down at their hands. He looked at his feet. Felt the quiet hum of the room sort of stretch out between them.
Gasped on the inhale for that soft, matter-of-fact question. "Of course I--" but it was surprise, not anger, that lifted his voice a few notches. "Yes! I thought," unmentionable, terrible thing that might still happen; Clu held it at bay with the truth: "you are very important to me, and I was, I am, worried about you." There was no way to gentle that, but: "You know, Jarvis is losing his mind about it--like, more than usual? We all care about you, man; the whole suite. I had to get down here and see for myself," grinning, tiredly, "but for them, too. We're glad you're okay." Softly. "I'm glad."
no subject
Where once he would have been barking orders and trying to shove himself into task sets that he was in no way built or trained for just to maintain control and avoid showing fear or weakness, the admin was allowing the recompilers to do their jobs. Allowing Gana to dictate terms to him, even! He'd come a long, long way, and if the progress had at times been as awkward and halting as trying to fly a damaged recognizer, it was progress still. And the state of the Grid improved along with the state of its admin, the new construction project being just one example, which was its own cause for celebration.
At present though, he returned the handclasp, processing over the feelings his brother was professing. And not just his own either, but Jarvis and apparently the whole suite at Central Processing. All worried about him. All caring about him. He found he didn't know quite what to do with this data, drafting and discarding a few responses before finally settling on, "Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as used to the idea of me being in danger as I am."
After a brief pause, he continued. "A hacker's function set is dangerous; there's just no getting around it. I got used to the idea pretty quick that every time I went out on a mission, there was a chance I wasn't going to come back. Had to; if I was too focused on worrying about that, I wouldn't have been able to perform my function. And as time went on and the MCP got more and more powerful, every mission got more and more dangerous. I didn't really get close to anyone in my home system for just that reason. There were plenty of programs I knew reasonably well and liked, and who presumably liked me too, but no one I was really friends with. Even in my own system, I was always just... passing through, to some extent."
"Of course the odds finally caught up to me when the MCP's forces did, and that was the end of that, til I was brought back online here. Just in time to be smack in the middle of a narrowly averted viral apocalypse. By the time I found my footing after that, it was back to business as usual. The next task, the next mission. Always on the run, always just passing through. Observing everything and everyone without really being a part of what they were doing, avoiding security with the odds getting longer every time. The odds caught up to me here too, eventually of course, though with thankfully much better results."
"But even for a little while after that, everything was a risk vs reward calculation, like it had always been. Even something as simple as visiting a recompiler." He didn't let go of his brother's hand, but instead indicating their general surroundings by angling his head combined with a gesture of his left hand that didn't bother lifting the arm. "Always had to decide whether it was more of a risk to deal with an injury I got while on a mission, or seek out medical help. Not that I thought they'd turn me away, but they were bound to turn me in after I was repaired, if not before. So I had to decide which was the bigger risk to the mission. More often than not, I wound up just working around it. Life was dangerous, injuries happened, I just had to deal and move on." He shrugged slightly.
Another brief pause. "Guess what I'm saying is that I'm just... not really used to being part of a suite. At least not the parts that involve people worrying about me like this. I mean I knew Jarvis worried, but he's Jarvis, you know? He worries about everything. Probably even worries about his worries. But with it being more than that, for you and him and everyone... Guess I'm still kinda new to factoring that in. To having someone waiting up for me."
"But I appreciate it. And I'll... try and do better." It was a quiet revelation, no drums or horns of fireworks, no User-bright light from above. But then noise would have cheapened it somehow. The revelation that the independence he'd always been proud of no longer meant that he stood apart, that he was just passing through... that he was now part of a suite, that he had friends and loved ones who worried about him, cared about him, feared for him... It was an epiphany that, now that he'd been struck with it, he wondered how he hadn't noticed it sooner. Something so simple, yet so profound and powerful, that he wondered if his brother could sense it dawning on him via the contact of their clasped hands?
Whether or not he could though, he'd definitely feel it when Clu squeezed his hand, and see it when he gave him a small, warm smile. "I'm glad you came," he said. "And I care about all of you too. Not sure I realized how much before."
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Clu wondered if maybe he was clinging too tight, if maybe it was unfair of him to be so upset, when his code-brother was used to being in danger, clearly programmed to expect and handle a certain amount of risk, and after all was made as sturdily as he himself was--
And if it was harrowing, to listen to his code-brother describe solitude as his default, a calculated state embraced of pure necessity--well. Clu also understood that. Clu, who was less flexible than his fellow functions, but more intricate and many orders more powerful, such that he was forever holding himself a bit rigid, because when he did lash out, it was often permanent.
He had done a great long list of irrevocable things, but. He could not have imagined doing any of them alone. Not truly. And he never was, never had been, except once--and then only because he had pushed it, or pushed himself outside of it--
Still.
Central was one unit, of which his core team were another, smaller part, the linchpin of a vast and complex system. He could not imagine a Grid without them in it. In which they did not all affect each other, for good or ill; bound together in weakness or in strength. Clu amplified whatever he was put to. Drew out whatever could be made, perfect and entire, from the potentials before him.
And his-code brother was shifting that in new and important directions. For all of them.
Clu thrilled to their shared appetite for narrow margins in speed and escape. Held close their common tendency to carve a problem to its bases. And he'd come to rely on the hacker's bravery--more than Clu had ever realized! Especially at first.
But never once had it occurred to him that this...might be hurting his code-brother. Or at the very least pushing him to take damaging risks. Had been from the start, since they'd plunged into what he'd made of the Sea herself and done their level best. That wound in the system still wasn't closed, might never be completely whole.
He could not linger long on that thought. Not with everything they'd just gone through and everything around them still very much the way it was.
Besides--
"Well, I mean, Jarvis is the embodiment of a hard-coded argument in favor of decaf, but yeah he--" How to put this? Precisely, if not perfectly, and with gentle affection: "he doesn't hover for just anybody, man."
Mostly for the two of them. And it got on Clu's nerves--like, totally--but it was also invaluable to be reminded to eat, to drink, to rest, tirelessly by someone whose own anxiety was his main fuel in turn. It dawned on Clu, holding his code-brother's hand and listening to him talk of the odds forever growing longer, and how new it was to have someone waiting up for him, that Clu should tell them more, show them more, how very much he appreciated that.
So Clu held his hand, and just listened, even as something sparked along their grasp--realization, or epiphany: as it dawned on his code-brother, or quietly between them, just how important he was to all of them.
No fanfare. No parade. No fireworks. There would be no statue.
But--
"I've watched you," Clu said at last. "I've studied you very carefully. And y'know what? You take risks like others breathe, and you do play the odds, but you also call me on my nonsense, and look out for the others, too--even with me in your way!" A well of feelings he wasn't sure what to do with, frustration and worry and affection and--oh--something more, too, something so ancient he was afraid to use its name, fierce and bright.
It roughened his voice. "But do you know what the data says? Because the data don't lie."
"Every time, you went out of your way, you took the outsize risk," Gently, so gently, leaned down to put his pressed his lips there, just over their hands, because it wouldn't hurt him that way and it couldn't hurt to demonstrate, "you were doing it to help."
He snorted softly, drew to standing, but didn't let go and didn't look away.
"I'm amazed you didn't notice that we noticed."