(Look! I'm alive. I'm sorry. Don't hate me. I saw all your favouriting and commenting and I was always astounded by you amazing people, liking my story...finding my story after so long since the last update... Fantastic. Just fantastic. So…I finally got my stuff together to bring you another development. Don't hate me. If there are still people who are interested in this little bit of fic, let me know in the comments.)

Age: Thirteen years. Third Year. Height: Four feet, eleven inches. Race: unknown. Ability: unknown. Build: Athletic.

Tense.

Scared.

Angry.

Cautious.

And to think she was once cautious herself of this person.

"It's been a long time." Gladys's eyebrows barely rose as she spoke, her face barely moved. A marble bust would show more expression. Gladys bent forward, taking Chell's chin in hand and tilting it forward. Then to the side, to the other. No scars, no marks. A beautiful specimen. Perfect again. And that was just brilliant.

Wheatley stood off to the side, dodging that glare of the professor. He watched as slowly Chell's own gaze began to harden from surprise to her own form of anger. He was pretty sure the temperature actually dropped.

"It's been a long time." Gladys bent forward, placing a hand under Chell's chin, tilting it forward and then to side, as if she were inspecting the girl. The way an aunt greeted a precious niece. Or a collector inspected a possibly faulty piece of merchandise. Wheatley blinked a few times, his heart beginning to quicken and he didn't know why. Something about the way they didn't break the gaze, the way Chell's body seemed to be shaking so thoroughly under her cloak that she vibrated.

"How have you been?" Professor Gladys straightened her back, towering over them again. So tall, Wheatley wrinkled his nose, taking a step further, to place Chell directly between the new professor and himself. The iciness of her voice, not even trying to hide the dripping disdain, it spoke volumes. Volumes and volumes that he did not quite understand.

But it wasn't directed at him for once, and he didn't plan on it changing targets, so Wheatley held his tongue. And, of course, so did Chell. She stood, straight, jaw clenched and Wheatley watched her chest expand in a sudden, sharp intake of breath.

When she finally broke the staring match—that's what it seemed like to Wheatley— it was like cutting a taut cord. The tension broke and dissipated. Chell flicked a glance to her left and right, to all the students and teachers in the Great Hall, all sitting and talking and laughing and paying no mind to the third year and the new teacher.

Chell smiled, dipped her head ever so slightly, turned on her heel and briskly walked away. Wheatley froze, suddenly under the stare of this woman's piercing yellow eyes. It didn't take him a beat of his pounding heart any longer to turn tail and follow after Chell, taking wide, hasty strides.

He felt safer as soon as they were out of the Great Hall, out of sight out of mind. But Chell kept going, nearly running, staring straight ahead. Wheatley followed, unsure what to do, confused, but he followed.

"Chell, are you alright? Did you forget something? I forgot to ask her if she knew my father, I bet she does. Not that I'd want to hold a longer conversation with her, eh? Bloody scary woman, and yellow eyes, I wonder what that's about? Even without them, she'd be a frightful sight. Even you looked scared—"

"I am not scared of her!"

Chell reared up on him, making Wheatley skid to a stop and quickly back up. Here's another one with scary eyes. Chell's greys bore down on him. Bore up at him, really. Wheatley pulled at his collar, giving himself some air, backing up, away from Chell. She had been angry at him before…but not so fiercely, so sharply. She had certainly never snapped at him. Chell scoffed, turning back around and hurrying down the hall. Only a moment of hesitation before Wheatley continued after her.

She only slowed when they came to a door that opened up the courtyard. She opened the door and took a deep, desperate breath of fresh air. Chell stepped out into the courtyard, slowly, until she came to the ring of green, lush grass around a small fountain. She leaned over the fountain's brim, doubling over and taking rapid, panicked gasps. Like she had been holding her breath the entire time.

Wheatley came up behind her, ringing his tie. There was no one else in the courtyard, he wasn't even sure he had ever been here before, or even seen it. The way Chell's shoulders relaxed at last, though, Wheatley thought that maybe she came here often without him. He stared at her back for a long while as her breathing slowed from panicked panting to a slower, controlled rhythm. And though her shoulders were no longer bunched up at her ears, Chell was still shaking.

"So, do you know her?"

Chell's head came up once and back down, but she didn't look at him.

"Not friendly though?"

A slow shake to either side.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Chell lowered herself to the ground, leaning against the raised fountain. She shook her head as she hugged her knees to herself.

"Oh." Wheatley shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Erm…well…I guess I should go?"

He waited for an affirmation. It seemed like the thing to say. That's what you did, right? You left a mate alone when they were having an episode? At least, Chell didn't seem like someone who liked people hovering over her. And God, he didn't want her to glare at him like that again.

But Chell looked up at Wheatley. Her lip quivered, slightly, so slightly he barely caught it. But he did. And suddenly, he didn't want her to be alone. What if she wasn't okay? What if she changed her mind and then she wouldn't have anyone to talk to. And then she would be cross with him for leaving, right?

Wheatley plopped down beside her, smiling to see her expression change to surprise instead of that pallid, sickly look of fear.

"Well, I guess we'll have to sit here in silence, right? I don't mind. I like meditating, that's what it is right, meditating? I think it's fun, clears your mind. Sometimes I sit in the morning and…erm…take a count of 50? Yeah, 50. Slow and steady, letting myself relax and when I'm done, I know I'm ready to start the day. I could take on anything. Yep, nothing like a good, long period of silence. Nothing like it at all. You could say I'm a bit of an expert of sitting alone and enjoying my own company. Yep. Good ol' reliable silence. One time—"

"Wheatley."

Chell was looking at him again, the corner of her mouth twitching up. He stared back, mouth hanging open slightly before gulping and looking up at the sky. He lifted one of his arms and ruffled Chell's hair, something he had never done before. She had never seemed so…vulnerable though. Wheatley couldn't think of a single time she had been, well, scared. Never. Not that she was. She had said so herself.

"S-sorry. Guess talking about meditating isn't actually meditating. Though I guess there is some calming effects of talking, I know I always talk when I get stressed or nervous or scared—"

"Wheatley."

"Oh, sorry."

"You meditate?" Chell cocked an eyebrow, her voice was low, distant, not actually focused on here and now.

"I said I did, didn't I?" Wheatley cleared his throat. "Meditate. Meditate. Meditating. Well it's all about the breathing, right? Let's try again. Meditate, Med. . Let's start with…erm. Oh! Counting. Let's count. Ready? One…two…three…"

Chell stared but joined in on the count of twelve when she realized he wasn't going to stop. Her heart was still racing but she focused on Wheatley's voice, his sure, silly counting, and joined him. Focus on the here, on now. Not the past.

Not…her.