Title: Tick-Tock

Rating: T for now

Warnings/Pairings: Chell/Wheatley, Cave/Caroline, Spoilers for Portal 2.

Summary: Tick: A young man watches as his friends are corrupted in the name of science. Tock: A young woman by the name of Chell brings down the tyrant who destroyed Aperture Science; several hundred years years after it would do any good.

Chapter 1: Tick

"Look at that!"

Jonathan Cole glared daggers as his friend Brent's accompanying arm jostle very nearly cost him a precariously balanced cafeteria tray of tea and scones. The lazy git didn't even have the courtesy to help him carry a few things. "I might be able to if you'd considered lending me a hand once in a while." He grumbled, gratefully setting his burden down in the midst of the small study group that had assembled in the University's union for a cram session. Straightening, he followed the pointing and snickering of his fellows to a table in the darkest back corner of the common hall.

The two-person table was tucked away in the far shadows with its sole occupant scooted as far back into the lowlight as he could manage, evidently hoping to escape notice. With his scruffy hair and lanky six-foot-something-very-tall frame, the man could not be more conspicuous if he was wearing a bright red sweater, which as it so happened, he was.

"Wheatley." Brent hissed, a predatory smile making its way across his face. "Oh I hope he's read today's paper. Maybe he'd finally just leave the class now that the love of his life is officially married."

"Oh, Cave! Teach me Science and then you can help me find my arsehole!" Another boy in the group adopted a high falsetto, evidently meant to be a impression of the unfortunate Wheatley. "I'm too stupid to do it on my own!"

"Teach me the science of buggering another man up the-"

"Leave him alone would you, mate? It's not his fault he's rubbish at Science!" Cole cut into the beastly ribbing his so-called friends were taking. He knew he had a reputation to think of but the words were out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions of showing support for Wheatley Harris.

"Thinking of joining him at the bottom of the class then Cole? Or do you want to be his private tutor? Go on, maybe the two of you can move to America and work for Cave Johnston together. As test subjects!"

The table burst into a renewed outbreak of snickering. Jonathan watched the lone student hunch up against the jeering he could no doubt hear in the small room with a renewed measure of sympathy.

To the amazement of all with himself included, he snatched up two of the teas and the whole plate of scones and marched himself over to the far back table.

No laughter followed him as the remainder of the group realized that they were now short one snack and they fell to squabbling over who would have to buy the replacement.

"Ah…sorry about them…" John muttered, shoving the plate and one of the Styrofoam cups across the table. "They're just stressed with their revisions."

"I…I, yes yes of course. Ah, is that – is that for me? How much do I owe you?"

John nodded. "Sure, and ah, don't bother. Get me next time. I don't suppose you'd like a partner for studying, would you?"

"Really? Hah, you want my input? MY Input?"

Wheatley had never quite fit in at Oxford. The more polite students would have called him 'tenacious'. The less polite chose the term 'moronic'. He was the son of a wealthy man. 'Duke' Harris had a small amount of land and the title to match and thus had pulled many strings including donating the Harris hall of residence to admit Wheatley to the prestigious institution. Most of his class hated him and John would have agreed had the other boy been coasting on his family's name and wealth. The problem was: Wheatley loved science and tried his best but he was positively terrible at it himself.

John tried to hide his grimace. "Sure."

"Oh. You meant it that way." Wheatley heaved a defeated sounding sigh. "I know, I'm rubbish at this."

"I don't think so. Well, not totally. You just…go for the messiest solution." John frowned and glanced back at his old revisions group which evidently had forgotten his dramatic exit. He lowered his voice nonetheless. "For example, I agree with you about…her."

It took Wheatley a moment to divine as to whom he was referring to but a second later he'd careened all the upper half of his lanky frame over the desk in a conspirator's posture toward John, sloshing the tea over his textbook and the counter. "Caroline?" he all but whispered as he blotted the stain with a grubby tissue. "Aww, she's a creeper mate. I don't doubt that one's a nasty piece of work. Ah, and if anyone knows a thing or two about a nasty piece of work, it's me. You know, because…because of my dad and all."

John was well aware that the clumsy gangling Wheatley was not lacking in female appeal, but a great deal of that had more to do with his father's title and wealth rather than any particular charm on the young man's part. "I just don't understand how almost overnight she was involved in every inner working of that company. Then, Johnson gets sick and he up and marries his precious assistant, offering her full control of Aperture. Mighty suspicious if you ask me."

"You actually agree with me? You're not just having a go?"

"Look, we both want to work for Aperture for the same reasons. Cave Johnson is one of the most brilliant minds of our day. He's a humanitarian, helping those less fortunate while still contributing to Science. One can't help but notice all the problems started when Caroline came into the picture."

Wheatley was uncharacteristically silent, his eyes darting in all directions as though he expected Aperture representatives to come breaking down the door any moment. Finally, he settled on staring at his hands. "I really need to pass this test. Really, really badly. Like so bad I might die or something if I don't. Well, maybe not dying for real, but something. Something bad. Maybe throwing up."

Marveling at how Wheatley seemed to manage to ramble even when he was clearly miserable, John gave him a light punch on the arm. "Don't worry, we'll both graduate."

In reply, Wheatley unzipped his cardigan and pulled out a thick fold of paper from a hidden inside pocket. "Your friend..er study group was right. I did apply to be a test subject at Aperture. I know my grades aren't on par for a proper position."

Cole reached out his hand and took the papers, a practiced academic's eye sweeping the agreements and clauses. "It's pretty solid. Lots of conditions here…" he trailed off, catching Wheatley's gaze and holding it.

"It's all I'm good for."

"Hey mate, don't say that."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. See here? Opportunity for promotion." Cole neglected to state the addendum that said 'if you live."

"Yeah."

Cole put a hand on his classmate's shoulder. "I promise, I'll get you through."

Cole found Wheatley to be a charming friend and an even better student. While his work was never A-grade material he attacked it with a passion that the best students in the class could not match. His old study group tried to dissuade his friendship with the class misfit, but Cole had found genuine companionship

"Look. We admire your dedication to the bloke, but you can give it up tomorrow. We're all going out to the pub, drop the loser and come with!" Brent had his head halfway into Cole's door and for once the young man could not decide on an excuse.

"Alright."

"Knew we hadn't lost you yet!"

When eighteen hundred rolled around, Cole turned in his paper a half hour ahead of the rest of the class. He cast a glance back at Wheatley who was still bent over his final, his head in his hand. Cole put his fingers in his pocket, crossing them as he left the hall.

A few drinks later and Cole was about ready to forget Wheatley. He wheeled around and looked into the smartly dressed chest of a man just a head taller than himself, cursing himself mentally for indulging in alcohol.

"Mr John Cole?" the man asked.

"Yeah?"

"We're pleased to offer you a job at Aperture Science."

John Cole's mouth dropped open. His vision didn't swim, his gaze never wavered but he couldn't stop himself from signing the papers. Aperture had it's legendary hold.