Note: I haven't actually played Portal (either of them). Nor have I written anything for public display for a long time. But I do my research, and I'm kind of in love with the characters/concepts at the moment. Not sure I did GLaDOS justice, but it'll work out. She'll get better later. Also, there will be more personality cores forthcoming. I don't care so much for this chapter, but it'll get better next time.

Portal belongs to Valve. I own nothing.

Speechless

1.

After months floating in space, or maybe years, the blue core had finally given up his fight with the universe. Stuck in the moon's gravitational pull with little hope of being crushed by a stray asteroid, less hope of being pulled out into the depths of space, and absolutely zero hope of ever returning home or having a decent conversation again ('Look! Look what's over here! Know what it is? It's SPACE!'), every day marked a lessening of his drive to continue. There was nothing to look forward to here. Nothing different. The stars and meteors and Earth were only beautiful for so long; then they became cold and cruel and mocking. He frankly didn't have the energy to look at it anymore.

Sleep mode wasn't an option in a place like this – all the screaming and floating stuff. Not to mention his own thoughts…

Besides, the scientists had told him he would die if he went into sleep mode when other cores were active. Or when he had a task to do. Or when anyone else had a task to do. And even if that wasn't true, the thought of waking up to being smashed by an asteroid wasn't a pleasant one.

So he went for the next best thing – though when he thought about it, wasn't that dying, too? Wheatley gazed out at the endless void, optic shutters only open a slit to protect his lens. Yes, it was like dying. Especially here. But what was the alternative?

"SPAAAAACE!" The yellow-eyed core spun past him gleefully.

"Right, mate. Got it. Still space, yeah. That's… kind of the point."

The alternative was to go mad as a spoon listening to THAT.

Wheatley glanced over at the Space core, who was giggling at a passing satellite. The blue-eyed core steeled himself and popped his rear panel – the one they'd said he'd die if he ever manipulated on his own – open with a creak. After a flinch and a brief pause, he blinked and wiggled his handles.

"Bloody cruel, that's what I call it," he muttered.

There was an inner panel: smaller and also reported to cause death. Cautiously he flipped it up to reveal a small switch, and waited with baited breath. Figuratively, of course.

"Nothing. Bloody hell." Wheatley raised his volume again. "Hey, mate! Space… friend? Um, over there... spinning around…"

"Space. So much space. Gotta see it all. Staaaaaaars…"

"Oh – SPACE, you say? Uh… well look over here, look here, mate! Yeah! Oh, I've got a really… GREAT piece of space here! You've got to see it! It's… well, it's space!"

"You got space? Space? Where's space?" The other sphere rocked around, quivering like a terrier after a squirrel.

"Sure, mate, sure! Right here! Come on, hurry before you miss it! C'mon! Quick, now!"

"SPAAAAAAAAAAAACE! Gotta see the space!"

The Space core rocketed at him. Wheatley spun quickly, baring his exposed switch to the yellow-eyed core.

"Sorry, mate. You've been a friend. Just can't –" His blue eye slid towards Earth one last time. "So, SO sorry," he whispered, and closed his eye.

The Space core hit him like a speeding train. Right on the shell. Wheatley shot off like a pinball, cursing.

"Bloody – It was right THERE, you just had to hit the switch! OW, that – AAAAAAUGH, MOON!" He bounced for what seemed like miles before slowing and finallhy coming to rest in a pile of moon dust. He sputtered and fought to shake the dust from his crevices.

"What – are you honestly telling me after… all that rot… seriously? NOTHING hit the right spot?" He looked up, where the Space sphere was arcing this way and that, singing its space song. "…Just my luck. I can't… I can't even do that…" he muttered, resentful voice sounding tearful. "Now I'm stuck here. Alone. Forever. Can't apologize to her. Can't – Well, maybe it's best that I can't do anything to Her ever again. Seeing as how it went SO well the last few times. Hmph. Can't do anything."

Suddenly he screamed out into the nothingness. "FINE, you WIN! I AM a moron! That much is obvious, everyone knows it. I just… Ol' Wheatley's late to that party. As usual. If I ever went to parties. You had plenty, don't think I don't know! Don't think I didn't hear about all the cake you had without me! Don't – Would it've killed you to invite me once or twice? Maybe!?"

Suddenly he slumped in the dust.

"SPAAAAAAAAACE! I'm in SPACE!" could be heard in the distance.

The blue core flipped around to scream a retort, and felt something move in his rear compartment.

CORE SHUTDOWN INITIATED. SYSTEM WILL SHUT DOWN IN THREE…

"Thank bloody goodness…"

TWO…

"'Bye, space-friend! It's been…"

ONE…

His optic slipped towards Earth again, as his rear panels closed themselves.

"Goodbye," he whispered.

GOODBYE.

And Wheatley's awareness was gone.

0

IMPROPER SYSTEM SHUTDOWN DETECTED. BOOTING MANUALLY. WOULD YOU LIKE TO:

RESTART NORMALLY

RESTART IN SAFE MODE (RECOMMENDED)

"Not even a password," a voice purred somewhere in the darkness. "A simple system to support an equally simple mind."

It was a dream he couldn't wake up from. He was trying to run from that voice, but his management rail had run out and he felt like he was suspended in gel. The voice was everywhere.

"N-nng. N-no! Stop! S-stay away" he finally managed. His vocal processor felt like it was full of mud.

A sudden searing pain shot through his whole system, and then a pulling sensation – like when he'd been sucked through that last portal to the moon. He screamed and tried to lash about, but found he couldn't actually move at all.

"Shut UP!" Her voice cracked like a whip across his circuitry, and he cringed in on himself.

"Wh-what are you doing? Did… why – Is this still… space? Where's the Space core got to? What's happening? Why –"

With a soft whir, a command shot through his system, and his voice cut off mid-rant. Then She came into view, Her yellow optic narrowed in contempt.

"You don't need to know that. But let me tell you something. Do you know what I hate about you? Oh, it's a long list. But I could REALLY do without your moronic voice screeching and rambling and just polluting the atmosphere in here. It will make this experiment much more enjoyable for ALL involved. You see, I do believe you can fulfill your function without nattering on endlessly, day in and day out. We'll see, though. After all, a voiceless moron is still a moron."

His iris was going crazy, though he couldn't move or speak now.

"That's HER best quality, in fact. Knowing when to shut up."

The eye stopped moving and suddenly focused on Her.

"All that business the last time you were here taught me a valuable lesson. I let her go. There are plenty of test subjects on the surface, after all. Just ripe for the harvesting. But you know what? …Of course you don't, you're a moron… She just loves testing too much. Well, I don't have to tell YOU how good it feels… to test." Her optic narrowed. His shrunk.

"…So now, let's get on with it. The experiment. You might even call it a test." She paused. "…For science." A dark laugh suddenly rang out in the chamber. "I haven't finished with you yet."

Another command entered, and blackness overtook him once more.

"Let's see how YOU like it," the massive AI murmured, a grin in her voice. She was running a number of programs, and the claws were delicately working at the darkened core and a shape hanging from wires, but Her attention was mainly on the screen in front of her.

0

Wheatley woke again in darkness. Not total darkness, there was a trembling, dim light coming from a door somewhere. And… a little red light.

Wheatley froze. The light blinked a few times, then went out.

"…We're different," a little voice whispered.

He sagged… and found that there was a lot more to sag all of a sudden. A whole body of sag. It tensed, and he wriggled and flailed. Arms! Legs! This… bloody great pillar holding them all together! And he could feel a face, though it took a few flops for him to get a hand up to it. The hand crashed into a long nose, and he flinched, a yelp of pain welling up in his chest-

There was no sound. The pain was still there, his face was scrunched up, and his mouth had opened, but no sound came out. Wheatley worked his mouth and tongue as his hand limped around his face like a 2-legged lizard. He should have been making sounds.

Failing to moan in despair, he clawed at the skin-like substance covering his face. That only made him flinch and pull away. He opened his mouth in a massive, silent bellow, scrunching his eyes shut. He lashed out, flailing impotently at piles of boxes, papers, and all sorts of things he didn't have much attention to spare for. THAT, at least, made a noise. He wasn't deaf. He just couldn't SPEAK. No sound at all. Nothing. Entire sound system, gone.

Wheatley curled onto his stomach and pounded his fists into the floor. He kicked back at the wall again and again. The bangs and booms echoed through the walls. All the while, he was screaming and sobbing and shrieking, all entirely without sound.

The defective turret watched him continue this for hours. At last the new android began to tire, and he flopped flat on the floor in defeat.

"A tree that falls in a forest but makes no sound still falls," the little turret whispered thoughtfully.

Wheatley's head jerked up. His eyes narrowed and he began a silent tirade at the tiny robot, lips moving furiously. Exhausted as he was, he tried to get his legs under him and pull himself upright. This proved to be quite a challenge. There were so many joints, and when he finally dragged himself up on the side of a dusty shelving unit, he swayed, legs shaking. Then he looked down. All the way down. This was a mistake.

Wheatley toppled over with a silent yelp. The tall android curled up tight around his knees. Tremors ran down his spine, and his shoulders quaked as if he was coming apart.

"Nothing ever really goes away," the turret murmured sadly, its small red eye flickering just a bit. "That's all I can say."

Wheatley ignored it, sobbing into his new legs and arms. He had managed to forget about it when it spoke again, high voice quivering.

"The time is near."

Wheatley's face was still smashed into his trembling knees, but he lifted it slowly, disheveled and red with the simulation of human effort and emotion.

"…And finally, the moron." Her voice echoed around the room, sounding as if she were off-handedly reading a shopping list.

Wheatley instantly jerked and scrambled. He cursed and cried without making a single noise, and over-extended one knee in his struggle to crawl into a corner and hide. He went crashing down on his face, though at least at this height he didn't have far to go.

"Hm. Impressive," Her flat voice was like a block of granite, pinning him to the spot. "Flailing every appendage at once. Well done. You know, if your creators weren't so full of neurotoxins, I'm sure they'd be pleased to see their creation… living up to its function."

Wheatley squirmed, then fought to pull himself upright again, and managed to kneel before he pushed himself off-balance and fell over sideways.

"Not even worth the effort," She sighed from the speakers. "If you can't even stand up, how are you ever going to be any use? I know you're worthless, of course, but I did hope you would be able to perform a simple task or two before I throw you into the room where all the robots scream at you."

Wheatley's lips were moving fast and his eyes were shut tight. He shook.

"Well, do try to pull yourself out into the corridor at some point," She finally directed him. "Possibly before the cleaner bots make it in here. They DO have clear instructions to take any malfunctioning robot to the Redemption Line."

Wheatley jumped and turned clumsily, shouting nothing at the speakers. GLaDOS merely laughed until there was a little click and she disconnected from the speaker system.

The android continued moving his mouth, his chest heaving with the effort, and glaring at the dusty speakers. His hands began sweeping and poking around in the air, seemingly suggesting that the mistress of this facility might like to take up sponge painting. Finally he heaved a deep breath and began to pull himself up again. He got himself upright, hands pressed against the wall, but crashed down again when he tried to take a step. He wailed silently.

"The path forks into three ahead," the turret whispered.

Wheatley glared at it, very carefully crawling towards the door. After a while, he attempted to pull himself up again.

"Take me with you…"

The android frowned and let his arm sweep up and down clumsily. He staggered and fell on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, then glared at the little robot again, waving demonstratively.

"I don't blame you," the turret sighed sadly. It watched as Wheatley staggered and pulled himself out into the hall.