Author's Note: I really hope you like this.
Disclaimer: Half Life and it's characters are owned by Valve. I also took the chapter title and few lyrics from Trent Reznor.

Wish

This is the first day of my last days,

I built it up now I take it apart.

Climbed up real high now fall down real far.

No need for me to stay, the last thing left

I just threw it away

The woman lay crumpled and defeated on the floor. The man in her dream had led her to the safe haven and because there was no one else and because she was not feeling particularly hopeful about her sanity anymore, she trusted the man.

She tilted her head and felt the steel floor cool her cheek as she looked down the length of her body. There was moonlight coming in through a window that let her see how torn up her leg was. She was in a hallway and it was cold and she was losing feeling in her leg.

All she wanted to do was watch the moon and the stars out the circle window above her. She closed her eyes and kept seeing stars even as she fell asleep.

In the dark, he came to her.

"You will never survive... if you do not take care of yourself."

She looked at him and said nothing despite the fact that she could now.

"You must survive, my child."

She smiled a small and sad smile into the black. "Doesn't sound so great today."

The man shook his head and knelt down, "I should make you suffer, you will... never learn on your own if I keep... taking care of everything." Then he picked her up and the woman remembered how she hated his touch. As he carried her down the hallway in her dream, she felt the heat and the cold from his hands spread up her legs and into her gut.

She turned her head and groaned into the fabric of his fake business suit but he kept walking on stiffly and with a purpose. Her human robot.

He gently set her down into a bed with very white sheets. "You must prepare yourself... here. It is past the time for you to remember. You are needed... I cannot continue to make excuses for you, child."

The man walked out of the dark room and the woman was left alone in the darkness of sleep.

The woman awoke to her stench and white sheets. She scrambled up out of the bed and limped onto her good foot. Looking down, she saw the bandages that had been wrapped with care around her leg.

It made her laugh a tiny bit, the craziness of her world. Was it any wonder her sanity was a lost cause? A man lived in the walls and shadows of her homes and took care of the little sick show pet. Groom her well, train her tomorrow. Jump through the hoops for the judges behind the mirror.

The woman knelt down onto the cold floor and held her legs to her. She looked around the room now lit up by sunlight pouring through the window. There was dust around the edges and she hoped they left her alone in the room until she was dusty as well.

She wrinkled her nose. There was a funny stench about her.

As she stood up, she noticed all the whiteness outside the tiny window. Curiosity became her sin as she limped to the window and looked out at the world around her.

Snow caps and icy ocean surrounded her on this side and she did indeed notice the soft sway of the place around her. Her safe haven was a ship. She smiled softly and wondered if it was a ship with water for baths or showers in it.

A while later, she found out that it was. Everything surrounding her in the bathroom was shiny and white and automatic. She waved her hand in front of where water faucets should be and steaming water and scented soap began spilling into the tub.

It crossed her mind that she had died and gone to the heaven only meant for her but then she realized her heaven would be on a southern beach near the warmth. And there would be no pain in her leg.

Shedding her clothes, the woman put her unharmed leg in first and lowered her body down before unwrapping the alien bandaging from her leg. She inspected the wound.

"Why can't I put my foot with the stitches in it in the water?" The woman was a girl again and she was small and naked, surrounded by bubbles and warm water and a beautiful woman with short black hair. Mom.

"Because the doc said so and so we don't do it, now c'mere. I missed a spot." Mom reached the washcloth to her face and she giggled, pulling away but she could not go too far of course, otherwise her stitches would go in the water, so she instead splashed water at Mom instead. The payback was brutal.

The woman pulled herself out of the memory that tasted of a forgotten home and let it fall away like waves on the ocean. She was a rock being pulled and pushed every which way, tempted and turned by the sea but too far up the shore to come back.

She dangled her leg over the edge of her tub and used a very white hand towel to gently clean around the wound.

"Bath water temperature falling. Rising to optimum temperature." A cool, feminine voice spoke to her from the ceiling and the woman's movements froze. Her breathing became constricted and she looked around her carefully.

She was back. She was there. Watching her. They all were.

"Go away." She whispered, sinking down into the water. "You cannot reach me here."

She did not leave the bathtub until she was sufficiently pruned up and sure that the robotic voice talking to her only knew how to talk about bath water temperatures.

She had found clothing in her room. There were fancy tuxedos and dresses and regular work clothes and business suits and skirts and ties. She realized she was staying in a couple's suite but she thought it fit her much better.

It was damned hard, however, to find something decent and comfortable to wear. She was wearing a pair of fuzzy slippers with hard soles to spoil her feet and a pair of long pajama bottoms, one leg rolled up so as not to irritate the bandages around her wounded had found a tank top that fit tightly over her chest and shoulders and she wore a sweater she kept unzipped over it.

On top of the dresser was a mirror and a brush. Slowly, the woman picked up the brush and began to comb her hair into becoming tame once again. She was not sure when, but she knew there had been a time when it fell in soft waves to her waist. Now it was only to her shoulders and she hoped it dried into soft black waves again.

She watched her reflection with a stillness about her as she finished with the brush. She had wide green eyes.

"Like Dad."

She saw the man in her dreams and dropped the brush. She shook her head. Wrong Dad. Not him.

The woman saw how her dark eyebrows furrowed and her wide, full lips began to quiver and she thought the woman in her reflection looked silly and childish when she became upset.

So she schooled her features and looked at herself evenly once again, putting troubling thoughts out of her mind. Or thoughts about the lack of troubling thoughts, but she did not want to think in that circle any more.

With one last look at the nameless woman in the mirror, the woman walked into the hallway and saw many doors. She looked around and with a cold stab of fear, she realized that she had no weapon at her side. Nor had she seen any of her well earned weapons in her room.

The woman scanned the room and began tearing the blankets off the bed and when that proved unsuccessful, she rummaged through the closet and dresser, pulling shelves and clothes out until the once tidy room looked like a mad house.

Her eyes began to get watery and she scrunched up her face, already feeling the sickening wave of failure and loneliness of losing her only possessions left. She had no memories to cling on to, save the insanity of her nightmares. No name and no... one. No one. Just the cold metal of stolen weapons at her side in the night and the warm vibrations they spread when they were faithful to her.

Faithful.

"You euthanized your faithful Companion Cube more quickly than any other test subject on record, congratulations."

"Every opportunity to succeed..." The woman muttered into her hands as she sat on the floor amongst piles of expensive clothing. "There was even going to be a party for me."

She laughed softly and looked down at her tanned hands as they shook. How could she leave and face the hallways and doors without her companions - her weapons.

I invited your best friend the Companion Cube. Of course, he couldn't come because you murdered him. All your other friends couldn't come either because you don't have any other friends. Because of how unlikeable you are. It says so here in your personnel file: Unlikeable. Liked by no one.

Dr. Dominic had tried to teach her how to keep good care of her weapons. How to clean them. Shine 'em all up and then out to war again. Training. War.

"You did very well today, daughter, but why did you leave your sword lying on the ground?"

"I'm not your daughter." She had said and the doctor slapped her across the face so that the woman, then a teenager, fell to the ground. She knew not to fight back. Fighting back brought in the party associates.

A bitter, unlikeable loner whose passing shall not be mourned. 'Shall not be mourned.' That's exactly what it says.

"Very formal," She whispered. "Very official."

The sound of a loud crash broke the woman out of her pity party and she hopped to her feet, feeling the power at her bare hands. Even if she had no shotgun, she felt the memories of training. Even if they felt like the memories of someone else.

She left the room and cocked her head, trying to decide where the noise came from when it came again. It sounded like pots and pans crashing to the floor and she felt the sound stir something familiar inside. Another memory.

But she had no time for that.

As she made her way silently down the hallway, she heard someone using foul language. Male. Mature. On her ship.

She stood outside the door the cursing was coming from and jumped back when it slid open. Damn technology and the non-stealthiness of it all. She leaned back against the wall, out of sight, but not before noticing the back of a man with black hair.

"Who's there?" He called out and she immediately felt an odd sensation in her chest just at the sound of it. Obviously he was an enemy who had to be terminated for the odd sensation to stop. "I warn you I am armed."

Lie. The woman decided but she had noticed that he was a relatively larger man and slipped into a nearby dark room with another pair of automated doors just as she saw the door to the man and the kitchen slide shut.

As she waited in the dark, she backed into something hard and became aware of how heavy her breathing was. How safe was this safe haven? Not even alone for a whole day.

Something hard fell into her shoulder and she caught it instinctively. A book. Heavy one too.

As she tried to calm herself down and listen above the beating of her heart and her own panting, she heard heavy footsteps walk past her doorway. The rush of being on the hunt was coming back and she decided there was no better time than now to strike.

With a firm grip on the book, she burst out of the room and prepared to hit the man in the back of the head.

Only the man had heard her and turned around. He dodged the blow quickly and she ran into the wall but only let that stop her for a moment before pushing herself back into the little battle the day had to offer.

"Hey, what're ya doin'? Can't you see I'm human, dollface?" The guy asked, dodging out of her reach once again.

She said nothing and aimed a punch at his jaw, only to have him catch her wrist and use it to get the leverage to push her onto the floor. The man knelt down and pushed a strong knee into her chest but she still had her legs free.

"Cut it out, wiggle worm!" He grunted and held her legs still when she tried to squirm.

"Stop calling me names." She said and punched him in the face. It was not enough to get him off but it was enough for her to earn a very angry look as the man shifted to straddle her legs and hold both of her small wrists still with one large hand.

"That wasn't very nice." He told her and she noticed a scar on his temple, the slight gray in his hair and the obvious kindness in his eyes a moment before he pulled a pistol out and aimed it at her throat.

Oh. He is armed.

"That's a very nice gun you have there." She told him, wondering why the hell he got a gun.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

She tore her eyes away from the shiny metal and looked up at him. There were small lines around his eyes and mouth. Laugh and worry lines. They deepened as he made a face like he was in some pain and she wondered if he was beat up already from just a hit in the jaw... but then she was the one pinned to the floor under a strong man with a gun so it did not really matter.

"And my clip is far from empty, however you're the first human that has tried to kill me in a while so I'm intrigued as to why you would go about doing such a thing like that. I'd rather hear a story than be forced to shoot a hole through that pretty face."

He called my face pretty.

No, this is flattery. A tactic used in hostage situations to brainwash and distract and... he has a gun and he is on my damn ship!

"I was not going to kill you." She said.

"Obviously."

"I mean I did not plan on killing you," she shifted uncomfortably under that steady gaze and felt her palms grow sweaty. "Not right away anyway."

"Well, that's... something. I guess." He shifted over her and looked up at her hands. "You gotta name, girl?"

"Woman. Not a girl."

He rolled his eyes and she realized she was being annoying. Then she told herself it did not matter.

"You got a name, woman?" He tried again.

She did not want to give the answer but she shook her head.

"Well what do you mean by that?" He asked, confusion clouding his kind eyes. She noticed that he kept the gun steady and his grip tight. She was getting the feeling that she would not be slipping out of this one soon and it was embarrassing to her.

"I mean no, sir, now would you please get off?" She asked in what she hoped was a kind voice, however the man was not fooled.

He shook his head. "I saw those moves of yours. If I was younger and still just a security guard you probably would have had me, but I'm Barney Calhoun. Gonna have to try better than that to fool me anymore."

"I'll remember that."

Barney Calhoun sighed and sat up slightly, but did not release his hold on her. Instead he put the pistol away and looked down at her wearily.

"So listen, No-Name... what's your deal? Where the hell are we?"

"A safe place as far as I knew, until you showed up in my kitchen."

"Yeah, I did do the whole showing up uninvited thing, didn't I?" Barney shrugged and looked down at her expectantly, as if he did not much care about being uninvited or that he was straddling the self-proclaimed owner of the ship.

The woman sighed and looked at a wall. "I don't know what 'my deal' is. I got lost and ended up here. The end."

"Your forgot the part where you started killing innocent bystanders."

"I got lost, started killing innocent bystanders and then ended up here and tried to keep up with my killing habits. The end." The said bitterly and to her annoyance Mr. Barney Calhoun just laughed. She could feel the vibrations from his body against hers and she shifted awkwardly at the closeness of him. It was suddenly not hostile when he was above her laughing with kind eyes like that. It felt intimate and familiar and it needed to stop.

Moving fast, the woman delivered a swift head butt and saw blood spurt from his nose as he rolled away, grabbing for his gun. She made to run for it but ended up limping away into her room but no gunfire went off, only the heavy footsteps gave away her follower.

She turned around and went to push the button to shut and lock the bedroom door put he was too quick. With one hand on his nose, he used the other to keep the door from sliding shut and walked into the room. The woman backed away and picked up a vase before jumping onto the bed to get the higher ground.

"Look, I do not want to kill you as you are a regular, in the loose sense of the word, human being. But I warn you, I am very... skilled with... fighting! So stay away!" The woman warned, raising the vase in warning, though she was seeming to forget all that she had learned in a matter of seconds the closer Barney Calhoun got to her.

He reached down and picked up a sock from the mess she had made earlier. "Is this clean?" He asked and without waiting for an answer, covered his nose. She watched him dab at it and look at it in the mirror.

Finally, with a roll of her eyes, she let the vase drop safely onto the mattress and jumped down. Barney watched her movements closely in the mirror and she realized his lack of intimidation with her made her nervous and slightly annoyed. Stopping a few feet from him, she said in annoyance, "You're supposed to tilt your head back with a bloody nose."

Barney turned to look at her and did as she said but kept any eye on her.

"Nasty looking limp you have there," he told her and she nodded.

"Nasty looking nose."

Barney shrugged.

She looked down at her bandaged leg before making eye contact again, "I hope that's not the reason you refrained from shooting me."

"I don't kill humans if I can help it. I shoot 'em in the back even less."

As he said this, she looked around her messy room and wondered at the feeling of awkwardness and shamefulness in her. She was only trying to protect herself and she would still do so if this Barney guy tried to pull anything, human or not.

"I can't remember most of my life," she blurted out. When he turned those kind eyes on her again, she could not help but keep explaining herself to him. "I escaped from a place that did stuff to... I think they took away my past but that's why I don't have a name. That's why I'm No-Name."

As the silence stretched on while Barney soaked this information in and took the sock away from his red, but dry, nose, the woman felt like a fool for giving him such information about herself. When faced with such a feeling, her first instinct was to kick Barney in the head and throw him out, but she refrained. Instead, she waited bravely for this stranger to respond to her confession.

"How do you feel about the name Chell?"

The woman tested it in her head and out loud a few times. It fit.

"I like it. What's it from?"

Barney shrugged and threw the bloody sock into the wastebasket, "I knew a cat named Chell once. I guess you reminded me of it."