A/N: I wrote this while listening to the song All That Matters, from RWBY (by Jeff Williams feat. Casey Lee Williams), and dropped a few lines that from it in.

I know that they're pretty out of character, but this was too sweet a reunion scene to resist writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Portal, if I did, I'd be making Portal 3 instead of writing this. XP

I miss him. The surface is lonely, and the only friend I've ever had is in orbit. Sometimes when insomnia strikes, I watch the night sky. I know I won't be able to see him, but I hope, and my eyes strain to pick out a small blue speck among the stars.

I miss her. Space is lonely, even with another core. The only human who ever cared about me is on Earth, hopefully on the surface where she belongs. Sometimes when we pass over Michigan, I watch the surface. I know I won't be able to see her, but I hope, and my optic strains to pick out an orange jumpsuit while I am among the stars.

I am still angry, still hurt, but I am hurt because he betrayed me after I cared about him. I don't regret anything save pressing that button, but that regret penetrates deeply.

I have no real goals anymore: my freedom has been granted, and my past has promised to leave me alone. Now every day feels the same, and while I relish the sun, wind, and rain, I have nothing to accomplish anymore. I did it all.

The world is open to me, but I don't know what to do with it. It is a strange feeling, not having to fight for my life anymore. I have been extremely lucky, and found a small farmhouse the first day of my new life. It isn't right by the facility, for which I was thankful, about 15 miles away. There was a small, slightly overgrown patch of vegetables I don't know the names of.

Even with all of this, everything I have worked so hard for, I am empty without companionship. I keep myself busy to stop thinking, to stop the longing I feel, but it just makes me more empty.

I try not to care about her anymore, but Caroline is insistent.

Come on, your daughter's lonely. Help her out, please, if not for her then for me. Besides, no Aperture technology should be where Black Mesa could access it. Who knows what they're capable of?

I wasn't listening, or I tried not to, before she said Black Mesa, but there was no question after that.

"Fine," I growl, and activate the "call" mechanism implanted in every piece of Aperture equipment. Soon the moron and the other defective core will land here, and I can send the moron to the surface. Caroline will stop bugging me about it, and maybe Chell, her daughter, not mine, will stop moping around like that. It just looks pitiful, honestly. Truly pathetic. Humans are so weak, but sometimes I long to know more. Databases can only tell you so much, but then I remind myself that I am better than them. Why would I pity, or want to be like something beneath me? I've done what I need to, I've paid my dues. Now I can get back to testing, with them both out of my life.

I am afraid. Why would She bring me back, except to kill me? But then She says She will let me go, She won't kill me, She will send me to the surface.

She has the testing robots take me up to a small house and set me down on the front steps. I am wondering why they took me here when she appears, and I forget everything that has ever come between us, because right now is perfect.

I am coming back to the house from the nearby river when I see him, and I run to the steps. Everything, everything I used to feel anger and hate over, everything I promised I would kill him for is forgotten, and I am crying before I know what is happening. I pick him up, kneeling on the stone, teardrops falling onto the steps. My knees feel cold, but I don't care.

I am laughing and crying, and his lower optic lid is raised in a smile, and I just want to stay here forever.

"Took you long enough to find me," I say, surprising myself with the words. I can't remember ever speaking, but it feels as natural as breathing. My voice is raspy, and I can barely hear it, but it is there. He is stunned by my voice, but then we are talking and laughing again, and all I can hear is his disgustingly adorable accent and my new-found voice.

This is sickeningly sweet, but I can't help but feel glad that Chell is feeling better. Human emotions are annoying, but I can't deny that I care about her. Caroline and I are too similar for me to not think of her as my daughter, even if I won't admit it to her.

I feel strangely proud when she speaks, that she found her voice after so long. I only wish she could speak to me, but I am content to watch her from back here. Is this how mothers feel? They watch their child grow, watch them leave, but still wish they could stay?

I wish she could have stayed.

The sun is setting, but we stay on the porch. Finally, we stop talking, and I sit against the door with him in my lap. The moon rises to our right, while the sun sets to our left. The sky is a magical mixture of yellows, oranges, reds, blues and violets, and more than ever I am grateful for my freedom. For our freedom.

The shadows grow longer, the stars grow brighter, and the full moon seems like it's gleaming just for us. It is a peaceful silence, and I want to stay here, but I want to see what will happen tomorrow. It's perfect.

Together we're here, and we aren't alone anymore, and that's all that matters somehow.