Title: New Father

Rating: T.

Warnings/Pairings: Douglas Rattmann as a single father, Spoilers for Portal/2

Summary: Douglas Rattmann was never cut out to be a parent, but he finds himself thrust into the role when a young girl is orphaned under his watch.

Author's Notes: One thing about participating in a kink meme finds you somewhat obligated to do a fill. This isn't the kinkiest of fills but the idea gave my heart strings a wee tug. I think perhaps – and here I hate to sort of write a 'rationalization' or an 'explanation' but – my Rattmann here is the same guy as in Tick-Tock, just in a different situation. Tick-Tock as you will find is about grey areas and this is the story where Douglas Rattmann isn't "Aperture Scientist Extraordinaire" or "Crazy test subject". Instead he's a man who sort of got a chance to help out another person and did in his own way. At any rate I cleaned this up a little.

Chapter 1

Fact: Douglas Rattmann was not very good with other people.

Fact: Especially women.

He wasn't precisely dancing around naked on a table under the influence of three very rum-laced eggnogs at the Aperture Christmas party (like that poor Wheatley fellow) and not even Laura from Accounting had blamed him when he shoved a hand into her generous cleavage to keep some deadly acid water from spilling down her front.

Actually, Laura had been very grateful that she hadn't died or been disfigured but in spite of her best efforts to reward Douglas for his heroics, he simply bowed away with embarrassment.

"Listen Boss." The test subject named Rick sauntered up to him. "Sorry about takin' Laura away from you but your problem is, you have no moves. I have a black belt in both accounting and the bedroom. No contest here. But hey. We got a bunch of new test subjects in tomorrow. Aw sure, bunch of them are hobos but hey, we're rich right? Maybe one of them will be hot."

Rattmann considered the proposition. He was lonely. He wasn't flashy or conventionally attractive but he had a lot of things going for him. He was healthy. He didn't drink or smoke. He made a lot of money. He had a PhD in Science and liked to draw. Sure, a lot of women thought those things were interesting but for some reason they wanted men like Rick. Confident men. Doug was about as confident as a ball of string. He sucked the tip of one of the fountain pens he insisted on using until he tasted ink and had to spit into his rubbish bin.

The problem was that he hated the hobos. Not because they were people who were down on their luck, but because a lot of them felt worldly around him and while he never made fun of them for their shortcomings in life, they seemed to feel the need to antagonize him.

"Would you look at this one?" a particularly weedy looking man with protuberant buck teeth and a milky eye gestured at Doug. "Can't even get his clothes on."

Self consciously, Rattmann glanced at his misbuttoned labcoat. "This way please." He said softly.

"BARBIE, GET OVER HERE!" the man hollered. The woman who looked up and lumbered over could not have looked less like the toy doll she shared a name with. She was obviously obese to the point of unhealthiness, wearing clothes some two sizes too small. She was dragging a little girl, skinny and dressed in something from a Church donation bin along with her. The hue of the girl's skin and her colourless eyes suggested firmly that there had been some sort of adultery involved in her creation.

"Here." 'Barbie' handed the girl off to Doug as though he was supposed to know what to do with her. One of the other scientists took the couple off to the testing area. The girl was quiet and said nothing but looked up at him with a demanding expression.

"Uhhh…" Doug was not used to speaking to other humans. "Would you like um…a cookie or something?"

She thought about this and nodded, trailing obediently behind him as he went to the testing observatory.

The young girl didn't say a word but sat eating stale raisin cookies from the bag Rattmann had found in the break room with a cup of strong black tea and playing solitaire games on his computer monitor. At least that's what he thought she was doing.

When he turned around for the first time, she was in his files. He jumped up in alarm but the girl was solving the tests he'd made. Solving them like a pro. He forgot to watch the test subjects as she executed virtual solutions in rapid succession.

A siren broke both their concentration. In the chamber below, two forms bobbed in the acid water. Rattmann covered the child's eyes, shielding her from her parents grisly demise.

"I…I don't know what…"

The girl pulled his hand away from her face, not even noticing as the skeleton of the once enormous Barbie, now dissolved of flesh, slipped below the surface. She tugged at him and he could only get up, follow her to the work station and let her show him her own 'test chambers'.

Rattmann swallowed a lump in his throat. "V…Very good. Very good." He repeated.

The girl beamed at him and he picked up the phone to call Cave Johnson personally. He didn't know what he would say.

"Wait…" Doug poked his head back in. "Do you have a name?"

She snatched up a paper and wrote it down. Her writing was atrocious but Rattmann wasn't surprised by her literacy. It was a mystery as to where she'd learned, but he suspected she must have gone to school at some point.

"Chell." He pronounced it as 'shell'.

She shook her head vigorously and underlined the 'Ch'.

"Chuh?" He tried again. "Chell?"

This time she nodded.

"Well, Chell…um…you'll have to come home with me. Just for tonight. It's um…okay – I'll get you pajamas and a toothbrush…and wash your clothes!"

She nodded affably as though he'd told her nothing more unusual than the fact that the weather would be sunny tomorrow.

"Okay. You sit here…and..um…don't look out that window or…touch anything. Please?"

Chell nodded.

"Okay. Just..watch…my…just watch my desk." He thought better of it and gave her the keyboard to his computer. "And…play."

She gave him another smile that never seemed to reach her eyes. Very odd for a young girl. He noticed there were crumbs on her cheek and he brushed them off.

"Mr. Johnson, the…um…Puttertons…well, kind of died in Chamber 18 and they had a kid. I think I have to take her home. With me, I mean." Rattmann knew there were strict policies about involving the police in Aperture business.

"Is this gonna cost me anything Rattmann?"

"Well no, but I'll have to…"

"Fine fine, do whatever you need to do. Don't talk to me about your family Rattmann. I don't care."

"She's not my…okay Sir. Long as it's okay."

"Whatever. Do you need a personal day?"

"No Sir."

"Then get back to work!" There was a decisive click on the other end.

With that said, the scientist stood in the office hall, the dead phone held limply in his hand. Maybe this wouldn't be bad. The girl was quiet and smart and didn't whinge or squall like some other kids. He opened up the office door, noticing she'd put his desk into order and had even located two pen caps he thought he'd lost.

"Okay Chell, it's um…time. Come on."

She hopped out of her seat and followed him out the door. He wondered if she was actually mute or just unwilling to speak. He wasn't a fan of childish or adult chatter so he dismissed the idea and counted his blessings.

She pet his moss green ford all over before climbing in, as though to thank it for the ride it was about to give her. He marveled at the way she was more an adult than him in some ways but almost behind her years in others.

"Hey, Chell, do you like Spaghetti?"

She shrugged.

He didn't speak again. Both of them seemed fine with that idea. The radio played some sad slow song and she tossed her head to the beat.

Rattmann's attempt at spaghetti was a culinary disaster. All the noodles stuck together and the tomato sauce was Dolmio stir-in. He also forgot to warm the sauce up but she ate a generous portion including the chewy stuck-together noodles and drank two glasses of milk, then smiled at the conclusion of the meal and gave her stomach a gentle pat.

He gave her one of his t-shirts to wear as a nightgown and then put on the evening news, largely ignoring it in favour of the crossword in the local paper.

Chell emerged from the toilet, wearing the shirt which reached her knees and suddenly reached across him and corrected his answer for three-down. By this point it did not come as a surprise to realize she was right and that the fact that six-across now made perfect sense.

They sat there for a few hours with him passing her the pen when she tugged at his sleeve. He looked over at her when he got to the unsolved twenty-three across but she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder, her mouth slightly open and drooling. He plucked a tissue from the side table, cleaned her up and for the first time in Douglas Rattmann's life, the throw blanket on the back of the couch covered two.