The redhead was quiet, and kept to herself. When she wasn't scribbling away in her notebook in almost unreadable swirly cursive, she was reading. There was a dense bookshelf in the living room, filled with mainly science textbooks, although there were classics interspersed. Marilyn rarely read the nonfiction, and opted for novels instead. Chell had tried to read a book, to take her mind off the constant cacophony of unanswered questions, but found it impossible. A few days had passed, and Chell lay under a blanket on the sofa, eyes looking up at the ceiling, while Marilyn curled up into an armchair, reading. The only sound between them had been obligatory "are you hungry?" and "excuse me" since the makeshift interrogation session.

"What are you reading?" Chell asked.

Marilyn was taken aback, blinking several times and wincing in response. "...Pride and Prejudice," she replied, voice cracking from underuse.

"Any good?"

"Yes. It's one of my favorites, actually. I've read it more times than I can count."

Chell coughed at the stale conversation. "Mhm." A second passed. Two. Three. "...have you thought any more about what I asked you?"

The book shut with a soft thud. "A bit."

"And...anything?"

"I..." Marilyn turned away. Her eyes were wistful, full of a sadness that reached beyond the room. "You must understand how difficult this is for me. Aperture is...it is not a place I want to remember."

Aperture.

The name clicked like the blink of a camera shutter. Chell pulled at her tank top so she could examine the logo, and the faint outline of the word "Aperture" melted into place. There was a word underneath it that she couldn't make out but she swore she knew, knew it was buried inside archives in her head, but she didn't know how to find it because somehow the map had burned. Her eyelids pinched shut as she combed through her head.

"What was it called?" Chell asked her. "Aperture. Aperture something. What was the other word?" Her words tripped with a grunt and she clasped a hand around her own wrist.

"Laboratories. Aperture Laboratories." Marilyn said the name quietly, as if saying it would transport them back.

Chell's chest rose and fell at a rate that felt too fast but she couldn't slow it. "...How far away are we?" she asked.

Marilyn bit her lip. "I'm not sure." The girl's hand fingered her necklace- a green, marbly pendant on a silver chain -while her eyes focused on the bookshelf. "We can't be far. A few miles, maybe. In fact, the underground tunnels might...they might be under us right now." Marilyn's spare arm rubbed the back of her neck.

Underground? "Marilyn. I don't remember anything. I need every detail, no matter how small. I didn't even know the name of the place, for God's sake."

She saw the girl swallow. "Like I said, I'll...I'll try."

Chell's lips pressed together. She wanted the answers now, not some undetermined time in the future. But Marilyn was her only chance, so she curved her tight lips into a smile. "Fine." A pregnant silence settled over the room as Chell began to pick at her nail beds.

"I meant to tell you that I'm going to get some supplies tomorrow," Marilyn said, eyes on the floor. "It's a little cottage not too far from here. It'd be nice to have some company."

Chell tilted her head. "When do we leave?"

"Dawn."

Dreams were these finicky things.

They would contort her memories until they were indistinguishable from the filler her mind produced. She only got glimpses of her past, and even then, she wasn't sure if they were real or fabricated.

There were a few constants. though.

A tuft of brown hair that wasn't her own. How her hands always seemed poised to hold a weapon of some sort. A yellow light.

But these were fleeting, and only the chopped ingredients of a blended dream. There was no way to piece them together.

However, the name of That Place acted as a sort of strainer that brought the elements into clearer focus. There weren't any more details, but the concept of Aperture Laboratories seemed more familiar, more real. The logo was constantly at the forefront of her mind, as if it had been branded inside her skull. If the trauma was so damaging that two mere words made her knees wobble, perhaps it would be best to let it lie.

But Chell wasn't one to leave things alone.

There were a pair of hiking boots beside her door the next morning. Chell wasn't sure where Marilyn got them, and they were too big in the toe, but she couldn't complain. They were miles above the beat up spring shoes she woke up with.

As they set out, Chell munched on a stale granola bar. The sunrise was familiar, but provided comfort instead of fear.

Marilyn coughed. "So you wanted to know more about Aperture, correct?" she asked.

"Yeah," Chell replied. "By...by the way, thanks for the shoes."

"It's not a problem. I found them a long time ago and they're far too big to fit me..." She coughed again, and Chell noticed a slight accent in her voice. It wasn't American...possibly British? Her basic knowledge was still fuzzy. "As I was saying- Aperture. It started out as a shower curtain company and evolved into a science empire."

Science. The word triggered a flood of anxiety. Her feet continued to walk but her mind enveloped inside itself, while her physical surroundings blurred into the background.

There were white walls and orange and blue and the stench of bleach so strong it burned your nostrils for hours and and and-

She had stopped walking, lost in her thoughts. Her mind was tumbling in fits and starts, with garbled bits of sights coming into her consciousness rapid-fire, but anxiety about something was at the forefront. She could unearth no reason for the anxiety other than don't take me back don't take me back don't-

There's still Science to do!

Her mind was crashing, overloading with emotions that she couldn't handle and you monster you monster you monster

"Stop!" she yelled. "Marilyn. Stop." Her breath was ragged and deliberate. It was only until she refocused on her physical surroundings that she noticed Marilyn with a consoling hand on her shoulder. How did she end up sitting on the ground?

"Are you alright?" Marilyn asked. Her words were filled with a friendliness Chell hadn't known for a while- in fact, while the emotions seemed familiar, she couldn't ever recall someone showing empathy.

"Do you want to go back?" she asked. Did she?

"No. It's fine," Chell said. "It'd take us just as long to get back as it would to get there, right?" Marilyn nodded in reply.

Boots crunched in the sand.

"I know what it's like, the anxiety," the redhead said quietly. "I have it too."

Chell nodded in reply, her hands beginning to stop shaking and her breathing leveling. The girl looked down at her hands and continued walking, a pursed frown on her face as if she were remembering something painful.

"You're in a much better place than I was, to tell the truth," she said. "Once I found the house, I didn't leave for a week. It was only when I almost ran out of food that I went outside. Even then, I..." she trailed off. "...I ran back in after a minute. I couldn't do it."

Chell swallowed. If she had her memory, she probably would have been in a worse state than Marilyn was. Forgetting was a curse, but it was a curse with a few benefits.

"Then why do you have multiple safehouses?" Chell asked. "If you're so scared to leave the house...why not just have it all in one central location?"

"I did. I was working on moving what I found to the main house and I stopped for the night. I went back to one of the smaller houses the next morning and everything I had left was gone. It wasn't ransacked, just...taken. Since then I realized the risks of putting all my eggs in one basket, so I spread them out. Most of the supplies are still at the big house, but I have stashes hidden throughout the area. It means there's still survivors, though. As terrified as I am, getting out of the house is one of the only ways there's a chance of finding them. It's good to walk around, too. I need to build my strength."

Maybe it was rude, but Chell noticed Marilyn's gaunt frame and thought the same thing. Looking at her own arms, she noticed how muscular they were. She was fit without the slightest clue of why.

Soon the forest transitioned into an open, sandy road. Unruly blades of grass were on either side of the path, as if they were guarding. Who they were defending- them or That Place -Chell didn't know.

"We're almost there," Marilyn said, breaking the stale silence. They made a turn onto a path with sparse trees, and a blue cottage was nestled in. Marilyn stopped in her tracks and held out her arm. Chell kept walking.

"Someone's there," Marilyn whispered, and pointed to a broken window. Shards of a flowerpot lay among the shattered glass. She was right. Chell could hear the rustling of someone in the kitchen, and her anxiety flared up. This wasn't a good idea, but one of the things she didn't lose in her amnesia was her perseverance.

And then, a voice with a thick British accent. "Bloody hell...is there honestly nothing in this house to eat?"

Chell's feet skidded in the dirt at the voice, only a few feet away from the window. It was...familiar. Her head throbbed, screaming at her to stop, that pushing would only cause pain. But she swallowed and skirted closer to the open window, eventually standing underneath it. She glanced at Marilyn, who stood, terrified, a bit away. Her new boots crunched on the glass.

There was the shuffling of feet, and a disheveled man came into view. A tie was wrapped around his arm, and bits of grass and twigs were tangled in his brown hair. He was in a vest and dress shirt, oddly enough. He adjusted his glasses, examining her, as if he couldn't believe what was in front of him.

"Oh my God. It's you," he said, dumbstruck.

Thank you to my awesome beta, alisonster, and my awesome friends, starry-nightengale and PortalPanda for inspiration and encouragement! And thank you for being so patient! Hopefully the wait for the next chapter won't be as long. You can follow me on tumblr wheatleyandchell for updates! Have a great day!