DISCLAIMER: Any fanfiction writer who claims to own TRON: Legacy will lie about other things, too.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I thought it was interesting how Alan looked after Sam throughout the film and wondered how he came to take on that role. Also Bruce Boxleitner is the man and I wanted to write a fic with his character in it.

On a much less significant note, this is my attempt to answer "Where did Sam end up when he ran away from his grandparents'?"

THE ONLY THING

By Christina TM

"ALAN!"

Over the years Alan Bradley had gotten used to the many ways his wife called his name. There was the tentative "I think something's wrong" call, like the time she broke her key off in the car door. Then there was the sharper "You're a dead man" call she used when Alan forgot to put the steak in the refrigerator or something of the sort. And the exasperated, weary sigh when she had misspelled something or balanced the checkbook improperly.

Last but not least, there was the "Drop everything; this is life or death" call. And that was what he'd just heard.

Alan bounded up the basement stairs two by two, anxious to see what had Lora so wound up. "Lora?" He called. Where is she?

"Alan! Out here!"

Alan opened the door to his front porch. Lora was crouched on the sidewalk, getting soaked in the driving rain. "Lora, are you all right? What's wrong?"

Lora turned to look at him. "It's Sam." As if that explained everything.

"What…" Alan flipped the porch light on. Sure enough, Lora was cradling Sam Flynn in her arms. A damaged bicycle lay on the sidewalk. "What's he doing here? Get him inside."

"Come on, Sam," Lora coaxed, hauling Sam to his feet and leading him into the Bradleys' home. Alan could see a sizeable cut on Sam's forearm.

"I'll take him. You call Kevin's folks," Alan instructed, leading Sam into the bathroom. "Sam, what are you doing here?" He wrapped a towel around the drenched boy's shoulders.

"I…I ran away from Grandma and Grandpa's," Sam sniffled as Alan sat him on the edge of the bathtub.

"You ran away?" Alan almost asked, but held his tongue. An interrogation would just make things worse. He wet a washcloth and set to work cleaning the gash. Once the blood was gone, he could see that the cut wasn't so bad after all.

"And my bike crashed outside," Sam continued.

"Hello, Peggy? This is Lora Bradley…Alan Bradley's wife…" Lora was clearly on the phone with Sam's grandparents.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Sam asked in a small voice.

Alan glanced up at the boy. "I'm sure your grandparents are just glad you're safe." He reached behind him for a tube of antibiotic ointment.

"My bike…" Sam sniffed. "I…I wrecked it."

"Sh, you didn't wreck it," Alan assured.

"Yes, he's here," Lora was saying. "Well, yes, but he crashed his bike…Alan's with him…"

Alan placed a bandage over Sam's cut. "I'll fix your bike," he promised, almost unthinkingly.

Sam shook his head as his composure began to crack. "No, no, it's broken…"

Alan reached forward and gathered Sam into his arms. He had a feeling this was more about Kevin and less about the bike. "It's not wrecked, Sam. We can fix it."

Sam buried his face into the crook of Alan's neck. With some effort, Alan stood up and ambled out of the bathroom to the living room and settled himself and Sam on the couch as gently as he could.

Lora hustled in from the kitchen. "Sam, your grandparents are coming to get you," she said.

Sam's only response was to burrow closer to Alan. Alan nodded up at his wife, who gave an understanding smile and slipped out of the room.

"It's OK, kiddo." Alan patted Sam's back as the child cried on his shirt. "You're gonna be OK."

I don't know where you went, Kevin, Alan thought. I don't know where and I don't know why. But I promise you that as long as I'm around, I will take care of this son of yours.

After all, the only thing either of them had left of Kevin was each other.