Fact: Any rumors about this story being on hiatus for so long because the author was kidnapped by robots and being forced to test for science for the last 14 months are largely exaggerated.

Wheatley tensed.

He opened his mouth to call for his companion, but realised he didn't know her name. Or even if she had one. So instead he resorted to "Hello?" in that peculiar cross of a shout and whisper people tend to use when trying to get the attention of someone without actually being heard.

Without warning the darkness exploded in a bloom of light, leaving him as blind as he had been in the darkness.

"Sorry, I'll adjust the light."

Wheatley rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the dancing spots assaulting his vision, and little by little, he could see the outlines of his environment.

He realised the robot who was hanging a feet above him was the source of the light, her eye shining bright, illuminating their surroundings.

"You have a flashlight? That's handy."

"We should get moving."

"Do you know how to get out of here?"

"Yes."

She turned, sliding away on the metal track she was hanging from. Wheatley decided the 'follow me' was implied and did so. She really wasn't one for small talk, was she? But there was something he needed to find out, and quick.

"Listen, there were people working here once, right? Human people? That would mean they'd have their facilities, the break rooms and such."

"Yes, but I wouldn't think that would take priority-"

"Trust me, it does."

Her gaze lingered on him giving him the feeling he was being sized up. But it didn't take her long to turn again and continue moving in another direction.

"Follow me."

Wheatley was starting to wonder if his guide was just leading him around in circles when she stopped, pointing to a door with her light.

Carefully, Wheatley opened it, but when nothing more threatening than a whiff of stale air assaulted him, he stepped in and found himself in a small room with a couch, some chairs piled on top of each other in a corner, and a small kitchenette.

And more importantly, a door with a sign "toilet".

He stopped and turned towards the ball that was following him to the room.

"Listen, this is the kind of thing that's, well, private, so..."

She stared right back, apparently not taking the hint.

"So... I can't do my business here if you are watching." He clarified.

She backed out of the toilet, and he closed the door after her.

Which caused a new problem.

"Uh, hello?" He opened the door. "It's pitch black in there. I just can't manage without the light. Could you... Close your eyes. Eye, that is. Or whatever it is that you use to look around."

"If I close my shutters, I can't point the light." The ball pointed out. "However, the problem here is that you don't want me to see what you do, correct? I could simply shut down my visual systems for the moment."

"You are doing it now?"

"Yes."

Wheatley stared at the ball and its unblinking 'eye'. He couldn't see any difference compared to how it had looked before. "I-I don't think I can. It's not that It's- You are kinda still staring, even if you don't see- it's a human thing, we need privacy for this kind of thing."

They resolved to have her point the light at the floor just outside the loo and have Wheatley use the reflected light.

After doing his business (in record time), the human stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"You can look now." He turned his attention towards the rest of the room and pointed at the kitchenette. "Can you give me light here?"

He opened the fridge, and closed it almost immediately. It had been taken over by a greenish blue mould, and it might have been just a trick of the light, but he could have sworn it had moved.

In any case, he decided to leave it alone.

A cupboard over the sink, on the other hand, proved to be a veritable treasure-trove.

Canned beans, canned tuna, canned tomato soup, canned something blue with Aperture logo on it (he wasn't about to touch that one)...

"Give me a minute, okay?"

He had to fight to swallow the cold beans, but he was so hungry he didn't care.

"We are going to get out of here, yea? As soon as I've had something to eat."

"Yes, but there's one thing I need to tell you."

Wheatley looked up from his dinner.

What she said next surprised him:

"She doesn't really have your mother."

"I know." The AI must had heard GLaDOS' taunts directed at him.

"My mother is dead," he clarified. "So she can't be here. Unless GLaDOS has found a way to reanimate the dead, which I wouldn't actually put past her, but me mum is buried in England, and I kinda doubt she could..."

He trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with the subject.

"I'm sorry."

That surprised him. He reminded himself it was probably just a programmed response, but she had really sounded apologetic. It was just an AI, but still... GLaDOS was one, and even if she was murderous and utterly bonkers, she still seemed more like a person than a machine.

He studied the pale-green light that he thought of as her eye, trying to make eye contact, hoping that was the right thing to do. From what he recalled, you should never stare at an AI directly in the eye. Or was it wolves?

He flashed a small smile at her. "Don't worry, it's okay. I mean, it's been several years, since she died, at least for me, I guess there has been a LOT of years since then, for her, even though she's dead. You get my point."

"I am not certain I do. Do you mean you have forgotten her?"

"No." Wheatley wondered how he had got himself into a discussion like this. He really wasn't qualified to explain humanity and death to a computer. He tried to remember how it has been handled in those 'very special episodes' on telly.

"It's just that life goes on, you're sad for a while, and then it's less and less every day, you know? Well, you're a robot, so I guess you don't know. But it's just that you have to move on. You meet new people and new things happen to you."

He wanted to change the subject. Well, talking of meeting new people...

"What's your name?"

The metal ball blinked at the question. Wheatley was uncertain if the movements of the plates on its "face" could be interpreted the same way human expressions could, but that had seemed like surprise.

"My designation is Computerized Hacking Enabled Lifeless Lifeform."

"Woah, that's a mouthful. Designated computer hacking life-"

"Computerized Hacking Enabled Lifeless Lifeform."

"Um, yea, it's not that it's not a pretty name, but it is kinda long. Do you have a nickname?"

"A nickname?"

"Like, what friends call you."

"Friends? I think… CHELL would be appropriate."

"Brilliant, Chell it is!" He held out his hand to her, realised she didn't have hand, or anything else to shake, and turned the movement into a little wave. "My name is Stephen Wheatley. Friends call me Stephen, or just Steve."

"Very well. Mr Wheatley, if you have finished your business here, we should get going before she finds a way to get to us."

She turned around, and zoomed off along the rail.

Dejected, he walked after her.

"'Mister' isn't really necessary."

"My apologies. Wheatley, we really need to go now. I have a plan for taking her down, but I'm going to need your help to get access to areas without a management rail."

"Of course."

This really wasn't the time for this, their lives were still in danger.

"Wheatley."

He stopped, shielding his eyes when she turned her eye (and so the light) on him.

"We will defeat her."

When she said it like that, sounding so certain, Wheatley felt that maybe it was really possible. He had done it once before, after all, all by himself.

With the two of them, they could destroy her defences, take care of her, and leave this bloody place.

He nodded:

"Yes, we will."

CHELL wheeled along the management rail, every now and then turning to confirm that the human (Wheatley, she corrected) was still following her.

She had never been the most social of personality constructs, not that she didn't get along with the others, if there was a need (apart from the Anger Core, but no-one got along with Anger Core), but for the most part she had always preferred to have little contact with the others.

So after GLaDOS had been defeated, when Wheatley had defeated her, and the remaining cores had taken over the functions keeping the facility in some kind of working order, she had asked for the job of taking care of the test subjects, something no-one else had wanted to do. She had liked it there. She had very little interaction with those humans, but that was the way she preferred it.

And even when she had tended to them, they had usually been unconscious.

This one... was different.

For one, he talked much more than any she had ever seen, quite often stumbling over his words, repeating things or accentuating his speech with hand-gestures.

And most of his remarks seemed pointless to her. ("Oh, look at those lights!" "It's a long way down, isn't it? I really shouldn't have looked down, AH! Did it again!" "The electricity bill for this place must be huge!"), and for a lot of time she was unsure if he was even expecting an answer, so she only spoke when he asked a direct question.

Then again, she recalled from data, humans were social creatures, and speech was by its very nature social activity, so it was no wonder test subjects on their own wouldn't do much of it.

She accessed her databanks of human behavior, hoping to gain some insight on the matter.

"Humans (Homo sapiens) are social creatures that require interaction with others of the same species. A prolonged lack of a healthy social environment can contribute toward, or be the result of, many emotional, behavioral and physical disorders including anxiety, panic attacks, eating disorders, addictions, substance abuse, violence and overall disease."

She stopped, surveying the human, trying to spot any possible signs of any of those. Of course she didn't have that much of an idea of what normal human behavior included. For one, was bending double-over and panting heavily a sign of a problem of some kind? It seemed like he couldn't speak properly, which was definitely troubling. Was this a result of talking too much?

She did a quick search on her databanks on this, but it wasn't on her medical database she found a match.

It was a file titled "top 25 human qualities that prove robots are better than humans."

Number 6: "Humans will get out of breath when engaging in physically exerting activities."

Right between "The tendency to form patriarchal societies and wage war based on ideological differences", and "Smelly feet".

Ah, she had been going too fast. Humans needed rest every now and then.

"Do you need to take a break?"

He nodded breathlessly, and sat on the catwalk, leaning against the wall.

Humans and their needs were more complicated than she had ever known. Sure, she had knowledge on the regulations for minimal requirements in storing the test subjects in the relaxation vaults, but surely all he had been doing meant there were additional needs? And she couldn't even provide him with everything the vault had.

She went through the list in her mind.

He was getting enough physical exercise, she was sure, maybe too much. It seemed he was able to find the facilities needed for waste disposal and had found sustenance, although she had no idea how much energy he would need, or if he could get all the nutrients human body needed from them. That all seemed very complicated. But she was fairly certain he would be entirely capable of taking care of that himself. Although, she reminded herself, humans were not solitary creatures, and in their natural environment would live in small groups. So maybe they couldn't take care of their metabolism without the proper social environment.

Again, she worried about his mental well-being. In the vaults the test subjects had been provided with intellectual sustenance in the form of paintings and classical music.

Where could she get something like that for him?

She had no music or literature that could be classified as art stored in her memory.

If she could tap into the main databanks of the facility via wireless connection, she could download some, but that was out of the question.

She would be able to locate her if CHELL tried anything like that.

Apparently he had gotten his ability to speak back.

"Do you know, are there any other people around? Humans, I mean. What happened to all the others that were frozen?"

Of course he would prefer the company of humans. It was understandable, a biological need encoded in his very DNA. Less understandable was the disdain she felt for the question. Deciding to ignore it for now, she filed it away for later introspection.

"They are dead."

She studied his reaction. Widening of eyes, small contraction of pupils, mouth opening slightly to make a small noise she identified as a gasp. Surprise, maybe horror, she decided.

"How? Did she kill them all?"

Again, she felt hesitation.

She didn't really like the subject. What if he would blame her?

She decided to tell him the truth. In the first place, deception was something that didn't come easily for her programming, and if he found out later what had happened, it would be even worse.

"After She, after GLaDOS, was taken down, the safety mechanisms in the main reactor initiated a shutdown. The facility does have emergency reactors for such a situation, but they were never designed to hold on for so long without maintenance, not to mention without the main computer, a lot of the functions were unusable. Part by part, the Relaxation Center went offline, and stopped waking up the test subjects and maintaining the stasis, and eventually they... died."

She glanced at Wheatley. He looked serious, but not angry, at least not yet. So she went on:

"I tried to fix it, but I lacked the programming for such work, and didn't have the materials or tools."

CHELL hesitated. When it had become obvious the Relaxation Center was going off-line, she had tried waking up test subjects. It had not gone well.

For some reason she didn't want to tell him about the others. She reasoned it was because she didn't want to make him think she had failed and cause distrust in her abilities that might prove fatal in the situation they were in.

And it wasn't like it was important, it could easily go unmentioned.

"I was certain there were no test subjects- humans, alive. But when I went through the Relaxation Chambers manually, I found one that was hooked on the main emergency generator and not showing up on the database. Your chamber. And I decided to help at least one human away..."

"You're coming with me, right?"

"You don't think I should stay here?"

That was surprising. She had fully expected him to think she belonged to Aperture, where she had been built and were meant for. After all, the scientists and engineers who had made her had been human, so she had assumed this human would have the same priorities they had.

But Wheatley appeared to have a different view on things. "Why would I? I don't want to. So I don't see any reason for you to. I mean, if you want to, stay here that is, fine, as long as you help me out first, but of course I would prefer getting out of here together."

"I will get out of here."

She announced defiantly, searching for his face for any sign of negative response. She found none, and in fact, he smiled at the idea, and seemed delighted.

It was an odd thing, she thought. She had assumed he would have been annoyed or maybe angry at her for wanting to abandon her designated task.

Maybe after they got out of there, she could stay with him.

That was a weird thought.

But it was a logical one. She would require help, at least at first, just to get around in the outside world.

And he had come from outside, he would know about it, but since everyone he had known had died he would require companionship at least until he re-established his social connections.

It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

"The door... It's manually locked. I can't hack it."

"This door?" Wheatley pointed to the door with a window.

She nodded.

He smiled. "I reckon I can do something about this. Make meself useful for a change."

"You can unlock it?"

"Yea, a regular Master of unlocking, that's me. That was a joke, by the way, I guess you wouldn't know, but there was this old video-game with really bad voice acting, and with that line, I guess you'd have to play it yourself, trust me, it was hilarious. Right, the door, just wait a sec…"

He looked around the room, which was furnished like an office, with computer, cabinets and chairs. He walked to them, CHELL sliding after him, curious:

"What? What are you doing with that chair?"

She watched him walk to the door carrying the chair and lift it, turn his face away, and bring the chair down on the window, breaking it.

She blinked.
"Oh, well, that worked. Crude, but it worked."

Carefully, he unlocked the door reaching through the window:

"Ta-daa! Open."

"Yes. It is."

"Um, what are we doing here?"

"GLaDOS has two main defense-systems: Her turrets, and the neurotoxin. For us to have any hope when confronting her, we have to first sabotage those."

"Co-confronting her?"

"Yes."

"Not that it doesn't sound all very heroic and stuff, but why won't we just silently sneak quietly out of the back door? Cowardice is totally underappreciated, you know."

"To get to the main entrance, we would have to go through her chamber. It's the only part of the facility she can't move and so block the exit. There might be a way out through the bottom of the facility, but I don't know how far it even goes."

"Wouldn't it be safer, though?"

"Most likely not."

"Erm, I guess I trust your judgement. So, what are we doing here? Destroy the place?"

"Yes. Or perhaps our sabotage could be subtler?"

"Like how? By just wrecking a part of it?"

"Maybe. Although I was thinking more along the lines of replacing the template with a defective one."

"This one?" Wheatley lifted the turret from the pedestal.

"Template missing. Continuing from memory." The computer announced.

"Yes, now we need to sabotage it. There should be tools in that compartment."

"Star shaped bolts? Never seen those."

"Any facility can use the normal bolts. But here in Aperture Science we are not followers, but leaders, who will take new, fresh viewpoints and think outside the box, unlike Black Mesa."

"Who's Black Mesa?"

"I don't know. All I know that according to the database they are 'cheating jerkfaces'. Once you're out, you should probably try to avoid them."

"Sure." Wheatley stared at the turret's insides behind the back panel. Deciding to apply the knowledge of machines he had acquired over the years, he jammed the screwdriver into an important-looking part and was showered in sparks. "AAH! I'm okay, though!"

"Ah, good idea, taking advantage of the weakness of the power-coupling transistors in the flux capacitor." CHELL observed. "That was always considered a weakness in this model."

"Yeah, figured so."

GLaDOS went through the video-feeds of surveillance cameras from everywhere from the facility. No sign of her test-subject.

She was still uncertain how he had escaped.

It must have been luck, a hitch in the elevator system. She had ran a full diagnostic, and she couldn't see any way even for his violent behavior and habit of ruining any piece of technologically advanced equipment he came in contact with could have caused the elevator to end up in the wrong chamber.

Had it been luck?

She was trying to calculate what he would do.

Try to escape? Get to her and murder her? Find the turret manufacturing facility so he could kill as many defenseless robots as possible?

But if that was what she was expecting, it probably wasn't what he was planning to do...

Thinking about it made her feel worse. And now that she had no test subjects, she was unable to test, and the hardwired need for it was hampering her ability to think...

Yes, getting the co-operative bots ready and that project running would have to be a priority.

He would turn up, and maybe it was even better not to press the issue.

A rat was most dangerous when driven into a corner, after all.

She focused on putting the final touches on the two robots.

Once she got them to test, she could devote her full attention to her little pest-problem.

Maybe she could even use these two to solve that issue. She had become aware of just how limited her reach was in some parts of the facility, it would be useful to have robots that could move freely on her disposal.

"That's our handiwork, right?" Wheatley pointed at the non-defective turrets falling to the incinerator after failing to match the broken template.

"Almost makes you feel sorry for them. Of course just almost, they're just robots, after all-"

He stopped, realising who he was talking to. He hurried to continue:

"I mean, nothing wrong with being a robot, really. I'll tell you, robots, love them! Their way of working with electricity instead of food, very practical, and-"

He tried to think of a quality shared by the robots here that didn't include murder.

"And their sphericalness, very nice. Uh... And it's not like the turrets are the same thing you are, right? I mean, do you feel pain? Cos, if you do I feel even worse for not catching you back then when you dropped from your railing, not that I don't feel pretty terrible about it right now!"

He stopped, trying to recall what his point had been to begin with.

"I can feel pain."

"Oh."

Wheatley glanced around the office-like area she was leading him through, trying to find some source of conversation.

"Ah, um, hey, potato batteries! We made one once back in school! Do you know how that works? It's really weird."

"A potato battery is an electrochemical battery, otherwise known as an electrochemical cell. An electrochemical cell is a cell in which chemical energy is converted to electric energy by a spontaneous electron transfer. In the case of the potato, the zinc in the nail reacts with the copper wire. Since the potato keeps them apart, the electron transfer has to take place over the copper wires of the circuit, which channels the energy into the light or other device."

"Well, it does. But still, really fun. But that, though," he pointed at another project, "dangerous. I don't know how they let little kids play with something like that. I can tell you from experience, the baking soda volcanoes are just disasters waiting to happen, ready to spew their acidic contents all over the- OUH!"

He had, due to the limited light and his lack of attention to his surroundings, hit his head to a panel hanging from the ceiling.

"Do you need art?"

She sounded worried. Not that the words made much sense. Deciding to just ignore it as a robot-thing, he shook his head, cringing at the pain. "Not really, no."

"The room neurotoxin is produced and stored in is close. Are you well enough to keep walking?"

"Yea. Wait a second, they keep the neurotoxin right next to the childcare? I'm pretty sure that's against some kind of law. I mean, I got fired from my job at the kindergarten for less than that. Mustard isn't even poisonous, even if you get covered in it!"

"There are safeguards in place. Even if a child happened to wander out of the designated child-care area and get past the several locked doors, the neurotoxin canisters clearly read 'Not suitable for children under 18'"

"Ah, okay then. But if the place is so well protected, how are we going to get in?"

"I can open the computerized locks, and you are capable of getting past the defences I can do nothing about. We will be fine."

She demonstrated this by unlocking the door, and letting them in to the neurotoxin production room.

"Blimey, that's big," Wheatley pointed at the huge container of neurotoxin middle of the chamber. "I guess she must need a lot of it, after all, this place is huge. So, what are we going to do about it?"

"I'll hack into the computer systems to close them down. Just a moment."

The rings surrounding her eyes started spinning in a way Wheatley supposed signified hacking."There's a small problem," she informed him.

"What!?"

"I can close down the system, but I can't be certain she won't notice it immediately and override my commands. I need to find another way around this."

Wheatley left her to work on it, and wandered around the room, feeling useless.

Chell only noticed what he was up to when there was a huge crash.

"I didn't mean to!" Wheatley yelled. "There was this big red button, and I just-"

"That's ingenious!" The robot exclaimed. "Physical damage will be much more difficult for her to fix! You're great at sabotage!"

"So I have been told. Usually not in such a positive way, though."

"Keep at it!"

Few more button-presses later all of the tubes leading to the big container were severed. It was only at this point that Wheatley thought of the repercussions of letting the deadly gas in the room he was currently in.

But he didn't have much time to worry about that, seeing how the huge container was being crushed by the air-pressure and it seemed like the whole room was following its example.

"Wheatley!"

He turned to see his companion ball being sucked towards the broken tube, getting ripped from the railing by the air-current.

Wheatley grabbed her from the handles. But the current of air was far more powerful than he thought, and with a yelp, Wheatley was dragged in with her.

"Well, that was unexpected. Still, this should take us directly to her. Although I was planning to get us some weaponry before confronting her."

Wheatley hadn't thought that far. But now that they were going to her so fast, too fast in fact, he realised that he hadn't thought of what they would do when they actually faced the computer.

His companion didn't seem too worried:

"But who needs that? You have arms and legs! Just kick her! And punch! We can do this!"

Wheatley would have voiced his concerns, but before he could, their journey came to a quick halt, the floor suddenly under his feet. Disoriented, still gripping CHELL, Wheatley stood up, head spinning.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"So that was your plan? Barge in my chamber and make a horrible mess?"

Wheatley instinctively froze, hoping against all hope it wasn't him she was talking to, maybe, just maybe, she was monologuing to herself, and when he slowly lifted his head he wouldn't be facing the beast...

No such luck.

"Don't worry. You achieved your objective, if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure it will take me days to get all the blood off."

He could see several turrets lowered around him.

"Are you sure about this?", he whispered to the core he was holding.

One of the turrets exploded. And it didn't seem like the others were working either, their guns emptily clicking.

"Go!"

She whispered.

"Go for the optic!"

Wheatley picked up one of the turrets and threw it at GLaDOS.

She effortlessly avoided it.

"See? No turrets! And no neurotoxin either. So your best bet is just to let us go, really. Or we will, kick you! A lot. Or actually you're kinda hanging too high for that, but I can still punch you! But you should really let us go, I'll explain why, in fact, we didn't just sabotage the neurotoxin and turrets, no. We put a bomb, a computer bomb in your main shaft-computer-thing, I'm a bit vague on the details, but the point is, if you don't let us go right now, it will blow up!"

"When did you prepare something like that?" CHELL asked, surprised.

"Sssh! I'm trying to trick her!"

"I see."

"As amusing as collecting data on human/computer synchronized idiocy is," GLaDOS interrupted, "I'd appreciate it if you just died now."

"No!" The small ball sounded defiant.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do?" Wheatley wished his voice could have sounded a bit less shaky.

"Nothing." GLaDOS answered.

"Huh?"

"We are just going to sit here. And eventually you will die of carbon dioxide poisoning, seeing how I don't feel like keeping the air conditioning on. Or maybe I manage to repair the turrets or the neurotoxin before that, and solve this little issue that way. I think it would take a long time for you to produce enough carbon dioxide to kill yourself in a room this big, but we can make a scientific experiment out of it. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

Before Wheatley could figure the best way to express what was in his mind, ("AAAAA! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!") in a way that could possibly lead to not dying in some horrible way, a disembodied voice ran through the room:

"Warning: Central core is eighty percent corrupt."

"Just ignore that." GLaDOS advised.

"Alternate core detected."

Confused, Wheatley turned to the ball in his hands for explanation, in hopes it didn't mean death and pain.

"It must mean me." Her voice was thoughtful.

"So?" Wheatley prompted. "What does it mean? What can we do?"

"Don't even think about it." GLaDOS said.

"But we are thinking about it!" The smaller robot announced.

"Um, I'm not thinking about it." Wheatley corrected. "At least I don't think so. What is it we are thinking about?"

"GLaDOS is in charge of the facility because she, or rather her personality core, is connected to the main computer body. But the core can be changed and replaced with another."

Wheatley was starting to catch on. "You mean we can take her out and put you in?"

She moved her optic up and down in a way he had come to interpret as a nod.

A smile spread on his face

"Brilliant. What do you want me to do?"

"It's fine. Just ignore me and my opinion. I'm used to it." The voice of the huge robot was mockingly weary. "Of course a psychopath such as yourself would jump at the opportunity to add 'Grand theft robot-body' to your CV alongside of 'Premeditated murder', 'Destruction of property', and 'Lowering the average IQ of any human group you happen to wander into'."

"Put me in there, that port you see over there." CHELL instructed her companion. "Yes, that one. The same way you did once before, remember? Watch your fingers."

The cheerful computer voice, that Wheatley supposed was the voice of systems not under GLaDOS's control, inquired: "Replacement Core, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Corrupted Core, are you ready?"

"No. No, no nonono no." The panic in her voice gave Wheatley hope. This might actually work.

"Stalemate detected."

"It seems we are going with my plan of seeing how long it takes for a human to suffocate, after all." But GLaDOS's relief was premature.

"Stalemate Resolution Associate: Please press the Stalemate Resolution Button."

"That's you, Wheatley! Press the button!"

A button? He could see a button in a corner, similar to the ones in the tests.

"Oh, no, you don't."

A floor-panel rose, pushing him away from the button.

"Hm, I wonder if I can improvise?" GLaDOS mused.

Wheatley jumped out of the way, just in time to avoid being caught in a mechanic claw rising from the floor.

"Come on, don't be foolish." Her tone of voice was frustrated. "You will die, it's a certainty. Here's a little scientific fact for you: Dying by carbon dioxide poisoning is extremely painful. Chosen as the 'Worst way to die' at least twenty times by the International Euthanasia Enthusiast Association."

Wheatley did his best to ignore the thoughts of suffocating, and attempted to use as little oxygen as possible while running around the room, dodging the plates that lazily moved, trying to catch him.

"But you know what way to die is easy? Your skull being crushed by a giant claw. You know who also died that way? Elizabeth the First. True story. Your Queen. In fact, in Elizabethan England it was considered an honor to die by having your skull crushed by a giant claw."

Wheatley had finally figured out how to avoid the panels, and got to the button, pushing it, before she could get to him.

The effect was immediate. The panels stopped moving, and the claw went limp, falling on the floor.

"Nooooo-"

Wheatley flinched at the mechanized scream. Had it been GLaDOS? Or Chell? Was she okay?

The panels that had hidden the exchange process from him receded, and he could see the giant robot body.

And in there, replacing the head-piece now laying on the floor, was the little metal ball.

Carefully, Wheatley took a step closer the giant robot body that moved a bit uncertainly.

"Chell?"

She opened her eye. "Yes. Just give me a minute… To get used to this."

"Can we get away from here? No offense, but this place is creeping me out a bit."

"I understand. Let me get an elevator for you. We can use it to escape this place."

Wheatley stepped in the lift that rose slowly to the height of where Chell now hung.

Wheatley smiled encouragingly:

"It's okay, I'll be ready to catch you this time. Although it would help if you reached out to me so I could take hold of you first, and then you could de-attach yourself. Could you do that?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around.

"Do we have to leave right now?"