Hiya folks. This is a one-shot that's... a bit different from what I usually write, for reasons I don't really want to go into. A warning though-this is not a happy story.
Thanks to Jaywings and LightningEclipse for beta-reading this for me.
On with the fic.
The dust and smoke cleared, and Wheatley found himself coughing. It was alarming at first—all of the dirt and such spitting out of the sides of his casing in spurts, and the shock of pain that was fading from his systems—but it didn't take him long to realize what it all meant.
"I—I'm alive!" he cried, tipping his faceplate upward as he grinned into the dull gray sky that greeted him between the trees. His eye aperture shrunk—it was bright in spite of the cloud cover, quite different from how things looked in the blackness of space—but the smile remained as he waited for his optic to adjust. "I'm alive! I-I can't believe it, mate! Fell out of the bloody sky like a rocket, and I'm alive!"
He twirled in his casing, only to cringe when the action wound up shoveling even more dirt into him. "Eeauuugh!" His vocal processor simulated a mix of spitting and coughing noises as his systems tried to eject the unwelcome filth from his insides.
"Disgusting—euugh—but, not space dust, at least. Had enough of that crap go through my systems to last a lifetime." With most of the dirt gone, he turned back up to the sky. "And no stars, either! Not a sign of that bloody place—oh, oh, remember that, mate? 'You are not coming back—' Well guess what, lady? Guess who's back? Guess who's not spending the rest of his life in bloody space!"
Wheatley grinned proudly, only for a moment.
"…Space…"
Blinking rapidly, he turned in his casing, cringing again at the dirt but ignoring it otherwise for now. "Oi! Space! You still there?"
Now that he actually took the time to examine his surroundings other than the sky, he found himself in a smoldering, dirt-filled trough—created by his own landing, he would learn later—somewhere in some… place. There were trees all around, much bigger than the plastic things he'd seen in the offices, and more dirt, and some pokey green carpet, and…
And where was Space Core? He'd fallen with him, hadn't he?
"…Hey mate, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know where you are, now!" His optic narrowed as he tried to take a closer look at the forest, only to roll when he realized what he was doing. "What'm I worried about him for?" he muttered, shaking his faceplate. "Drove me nearly bloody bonkers, he did. Nice to have some company up there, but—"
"Sp… ace friend…?"
The weak voice caught him off guard, and he flipped himself completely backward in his casing, turning his optic the right way so he could see properly. In the direction of the voice he noticed quite a few trees that looked a little… broken. And smoking. He didn't immediately see Space Core, but he did see something odd poking out from behind a tree—it looked like the object's impact had nearly snapped the trunk in half.
A handle gave a shuddering wave.
"Oooh, looks like you picked a good spot for a landing, mate," Wheatley said with a chuckle.
"Y-yeah," the other core stammered, struggling to push away from the tree he was partially imbedded into.
"You okay?" Not really concerned with the answer, he began twisting in his casing and pushing out with his handles, trying to squirm his way out of the trough. "We need to find a way out of here—not exactly sure where we're going to go yet, but, we'll figure it out when we get there! Right?"
"Yeah, s-space friend…"
It took Wheatley a little longer than he'd expected to scrabble himself out into the pokey carpet—no, no, grass, that's what this must be—but he was pleased with the progress nonetheless. But when he looked up to see how Space Core was faring, he felt an odd twinge within his circuits.
While he was sure he probably didn't look so good himself, Space Core was… more than a little dented, half of his upper handle was missing, and above all, a large, ugly crack ran down the right side of his faceplate. "Okay mate, sorry if I'm a little harsh here, but you look bloody awful. Seriously, what happened?"
Space Core's body racked in a familiar-looking spark as he rolled his optic in Wheatley's direction. "B… bad landing."
"Oh." Wheatley blinked once, twice, before twitching as well. "Well that's, uh… We'll have to fix that soon, I guess. Shouldn't be a problem. I mean, they've fixed worse back at the facility," he said with a quiet laugh.
Space Core twitched again, but gave him a positive, if tired, look. "Y-yeah. Get fixed. H-heh." He looked around wearily, blinking. "G-go back to space?"
"Wha—no!" Wheatley pulled his faceplate inward in an expression of disgust. "We're not going back to space, mate. We're done with that! C'mon, mate, let's get out of here and… go somewhere! Doesn't matter. We'll find a place!" With that, he tucked his handles in and made an attempt at rolling forward, only to fall back into the trench.
This could take a while.
And a while it was taking.
Even with Wheatley's ingenious "core mobility" method, they were moving at a rate of about a foot an hour. After rolling all day, they'd barely managed a few yards. It would've been a bit faster had Space Core not been stopping and complaining and sparking so often. Wheatley sparked and twitched too, but it wasn't near as bad as what Space was doing.
"Come on!" he called when the other core had stopped for the millionth time.
"Sorry," Space Core grunted, a rare hint of annoyance edging his voice. "H-hard…"
Wheatley only shook his faceplate in response. "We're never going to get anywhere if you don't keep moving!"
So Space Core tried—valiantly, Wheatley had to admit—to keep up with his companion's erratic rolling and squirming movements through the grass, dirt, and leaves.
But less than a minute later he was stopping again with a groan, and Wheatley uttered a growl of annoyance. "Can't you keep a bloody pa…"
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
His voice went down a few decibels. "We… we aren't moving right now, are we?"
Space Core shook his cracked faceplate.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Shuddering, Wheatley carefully turned his faceplate forward, trying to peer through his cracked lens at what, exactly, was making the noise.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"D-d'you see that?" he whispered, optic shrinking. "I think someone's—"
Crunch crunch crunchcrunchcrunch—
"AAAAAAAAAGH!"
He pulled back into his casing, handles clamping around his frame as he shuddered, waiting for the vicious, core-eating forest monster to snap its jaws around him. Or shoot him with guns. Something of the like. He honestly didn't know much about the wildlife of this place, but it had to be bad, surely—
"Ah!"
Something gripped his upper handle firmly and hoisted him off the ground, and he squirmed, flailing his lower handle and twisting his faceplate this way and that. "Lemme go! Lemme go! HELP!"
"H-hey," came Space Core's stutter from behind. "Hey, lady."
Wheatley opened his optic, and his eye shields retracted completely at the unmistakable face before him.
"…Lady?"
Wheatley was not particularly paying attention to the words that were tumbling out of his vocal processor anymore.
"...and then there was the time with the spike plates—well, multiple times actually, if you count the death machine—have I mentioned those? I'm sorry about those, and—and about the bombs, and—oh, part five, that looked like it hurt—I'm so sorry, mate, I didn't mean to hurt you, I honestly…"
And it seemed the lady wasn't paying attention, either.
She had shoved him in a bag to sit on the ground while she'd gone to examine the Space Core, who smiled and stretched out his damaged handles toward her. Wheatley watched the proceedings as he rambled, hoping at some point the lady would turn her attention back to him, but she seemed absorbed in brushing the loose dirt off of Space Core's casing and grabbing at different parts of him, evidently trying to lift him, though never succeeding. After a few minutes of this she appeared satisfied, and turned back to Wheatley.
"...and there was that one test with the bottoml—you are listening to me, right? I ask because you've only just now turned to me since you set me down and you haveeeaAAAAH!" And without a word she heaved the bag up onto her back, leaving Wheatley with a wonderful view of the forest and no view whatsoever of her.
Or the Space Core.
"You're not leavin' him behind, are you, mate?" Wheatley asked, feeling the strange urge to focus on something other than himself for once. "I mean, couldn't blame you, but he's in pretty rough shape and I was hoping you could—"
The sudden dip as the lady stooped down followed by a sharp yelp caused Wheatley to yelp as well. "HEY! What's goin' on?"
"Th-thanks… s-space lady," the Space Core stammered from somewhere nearby.
Wheatley only blinked in confusion. "Did you find out you have a hover unit or something or did she—oh, wait, Lady, you picked him up!"
The other core made a small sound of appreciation, whereas the lady remained silent, as usual. Heaving a sigh, she began marching.
"So ah… does this mean you forgive me?"
Silence.
"...Going to take the utter silence as a very positive maybe."
She heaved another sigh and nudged him with her elbow.
"I'll… I'll stick with that, then," Wheatley muttered, handles drooping. He hoped it wouldn't be too long to… wherever they were going.
It was a nice cabin, made of wood, it appeared, but Wheatley couldn't take his optic off of the lady. She'd set him on a countertop with his back port to the window, through which the fading, reddish glow of the setting sun settled over them. The Space Core had been placed on the other side of the counter, and once more, the lady was hovering around him.
"I-I exist too, you know," Wheatley ventured, only to duck into his casing when the lady shot him a glare. Okay, so that wasn't the best way to approach this. "S-sorry, it's just—yes, he needs repairs, but I think he'll be all right for now. I haven't seen you in years, mate! C-couldn't you—"
"Shhhhhh!"
Her glare did not fade, and she placed a finger at the bottom of his faceplate—what it meant, he wasn't sure, but it made him cringe. She then looked pointedly at something else in the room, and he followed her gaze to the door. When she looked back at him, he returned with an utterly clueless look before the gears clicked.
"OH! Oh, no, no, don't do that, mate, I-I've been outside for long enough today."
"Th-that's space friend," came the Space Core's quiet voice. "D-don't leave him."
"Yes, listen to him," Wheatley said, nodding his faceplate rapidly.
After a moment she looked away, breathing out through her nose, before looking back at Space Core, who continued to smile up at her. Her gaze softened, and she walked out of their sight for a moment.
"Thanks, mate," Wheatley whispered, relaxing in his frame before straining to find the lady again. There was a faint sound of something running through pipes before she returned with a damp cloth, and Wheatley immediately shrank back again. "K-keep that away from me, now."
She ignored him, focusing on the Space Core again and moving to rub the cloth against his damaged frame.
"Hey! Careful, there!" Wheatley shouted, narrowing his optic. "Look mate, cores and water don't mix!"
But she continued to ignore him, carefully rubbing the cloth against the worn metal of the Space Core's casing. Immediately the core began shivering, trying to pull back into his casing only to yelp, twitch, and spark. She stepped back for a moment, then stooped down.
"Shhhh."
It was a gentler sound than the one she'd used on Wheatley, whose faceplate tilted in confusion. "What are you—?"
Space Core calmed a little, and she resumed rubbing the damp cloth against his casing, cleaning off the layers of dirt that marred it. She had to leave their sight every so often to wring out the cloth somewhere, but as she kept up the work, the dulled brownish-gray and black covering the core gave way to a shiny silver-white, and eventually he was completely clean.
"Huh." Wheatley nodded in approval at the sight. "Lookin' better there, ma—"
"AUGH!"
A spasm seized the corrupt core as a few more sparks shot out of his casing, and he shuddered before settling back on the counter. "Ow…"
They stared for a moment before Wheatley gave an awkward cough. "Okay… not completely better, but we're getting there, right?"
"Y… yeah," Space Core replied with a shudder before turning his gaze back to the lady. "G-go back to space now?"
"Told you, mate, we're not doin' that… are we?" He suddenly looked up in alarm at the lady, his optic's aperture shrinking—she wouldn't do that, would she?
But the lady only shook her head. Wheatley relaxed, but the Space Core's upper eye shield drooped.
"But… want to go to space!" he insisted. "Space Core. Built for space. G-gotta go to space."
"I told you, we can't—"
The lady held up her pointer finger at him without looking away from Space Core. She bit her lip, glancing up at something behind them before carefully grabbing the damaged core by the sides and turning him around. She pointed out something to him, but he only tilted his faceplate and twitched again.
"Wanna go to space."
She pointed again.
"But… w-wanna go to space."
She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated motion before stooping down closer to him.
"Just wait."
It was only a whisper, but the sound sent a jolt through Wheatley, who nearly tipped backward in shock. "You can bloody talk?!"
"Oh," Space Core said dully, apparently missing the significance. "Okay."
The lady, meanwhile, gave Wheatley another hard, unwavering look. It remained until he retracted his faceplate into his casing and pulled his handles around his frame. He was starting to get the message, now.
"I… I'm sorry," he whispered, the words feeling heavier than they ever had before. Somehow they seemed to stand on their own, without his feeling the need to ramble.
Her gaze softened, but only a little, and she left his view again before switching on an overhead light and returning with a clean cloth. His casing wasn't as bad as the Space Core's—at least, he didn't think it was—but he could still feel the dirt clinging to him. Still he cringed when he felt the wet cloth against him, and shivered, some self-preservation subroutine making him flail his handles in an attempt to get it away.
"Shhhh."
Handles stilling, he looked up at her again, but she was focused on the side of his casing, not actually looking at his optic.
It was some amount of progress, he hoped.
After a few minutes of quiet cleaning—well, quiet minutes that were broken every few seconds by a comment or two—both of them jumped at a sudden cry.
"AH!" Space Core squawked, flailing his lower, undamaged handle and banging it against the counter. "Space! Look, look at space!"
A quiet sound emanated from the lady's chest—was she choking—no—laughing?—and Wheatley strained to look over at the Space Core. She turned him to see the corrupt core better, and he was finally able to see that the core was staring out the window, where the night sky was clearly visible. The corrupt core was giggling excitedly, but another spark wracked his frame, and he quieted down.
"L-love space," he said quietly, then went silent.
"Well… he's easy to please, at least," Wheatley muttered. He gave a twitch of his own—not as bad as the ones that seized his companion—before looking back at the lady. "Still needs to be fixed up, of course, but that's easily managed, right?"
Not averting her gaze from the Space Core, she nodded slowly. She continued to stare for a moment before tossing the dirty cloth she'd been carrying into another part of the counter—a sink, he could see it now—and turning to leave.
"Ah—wait, lady—!" he called, and she looked back at him, still glaring, but not as harshly as before. He looked away for a moment, uncertain, before trying to look her in the eyes. "You… I-I know you don't want to talk to me, but could you… could you at least tell me your name?"
She huffed out what he could only imagine was an amused sigh before turning around again, resuming walking toward a doorway that led elsewhere. But just before she left the room, she glanced over her shoulder.
"Chell."
And before he could respond, she was gone.
They were left there on the counter for the night. Not the most comfortable place—Wheatley would have very much preferred a rail—but it was better than spending the night on the filthy forest floor. Space Core refused to look away from the window, keeping his optic locked on the sky outside, while Wheatley spent a moment taking in his surroundings. He could see a kitchen and a dining room—things he knew of only because he'd seen them in the abandoned employee wings of Aperture—and another space that was carpeted and had softer-looking furniture.
His upper eye shield drooped.
"...You ever miss home?" he asked, staring dully at the floor.
"Space."
Wheatley sighed. "Should've guessed."
"Love space."
"I know, mate," he replied, turning to look at his companion. "I know you do. But… it's just—here, there's no rails! And it's all… weird and… everything's made out of… plants, or something." He briefly gave the walls a look of disapproval. "It's too organic, you know? Nothing like… there."
He blinked. "Not that I'd want to be with… h-her, I mean."
Come to think of it he wasn't fully sure how much he really missed Aperture—none of the other constructs liked him, parts of the place were falling apart, and… she was there. But there were still rails so he could move, and… and it had been his home. It was the only place he'd ever known, other than space.
"You really don't miss it at all?"
The other core gave what almost sounded like an annoyed growl. "Space."
Wheatley's upper handle quirked—he hadn't expected that harshness. "Okay, mate, no need to be rude about it."
"W-wanna go back to space."
"Yeah, well, there's no going back to there, mate," he grumbled, turning away. "No going home, either, unless you're fond of the bloody incinerator."
"But—wanna go to spa—AAGH!"
Cringing, he looked back at the Space Core, who was shuddering in his casing after the sudden spark and spasm. "Hey," Wheatley said in a gentler tone, "cheer up, mate. You get a nice view of it from here, at least. And the la—uh… Ch… Chell will fix you. Get rid of that nasty sp—" Twitch. "And maybe mine, too."
"Y… yeah," Space Core replied, lacking his usual enthusiasm. "Nice view."
After a moment, Wheatley simulated a sigh before struggling to scoot himself closer to the other core. He looked out the window as well, gazing up into the heavens. It took a moment, but the Space Core glanced over at him, smiled, and looked back out the window.
Wheatley had to force himself not to make a sound of revulsion as he slowly turned his optic away, hoping his companion wouldn't notice. He'd had enough of a view of space for the rest of his life, thanks. While he wasn't fully sure why he wanted to sit by Space Core and pretend to stare out into that awful place, it felt like the right thing to do, and it seemed to ease the other core a little.
"Well…" he said, after a while, "I guess this place is our home for now. Provided, y'know, the lady doesn't decide to, er, throw us out." He shuddered at the thought.
Twitch. "Huh?"
"You know," Wheatley muttered, tipping his faceplate to one side. "She—er, Chell, you know—acted like she was gonna throw me out, earlier. 'Least, seemed like she was threatening to."
"Huh?"
He glanced at Space Core, who was still absorbed with staring out the window. "You know, Chell?"
"Huh?"
"Gah—that's the lady's name, mate."
"Huh—oh." Blinking a few more times, he seemed to snap out of it as he turned to look at Wheatley again. "Lady… uh… th-throw space friend out?"
"Yeah, that's what I was saying—seemed like she was threatening to." Wheatley shifted around uneasily. "Y-you don't think she would… do you?"
"No." Space Core reached his faceplate out toward Wheatley and nudged him gently with it. "S-space friend stays."
"Yeah… hope so," Wheatley replied, giving the other core a small grin. "You'll stick up for me like you did before, right?"
"Mmmhmm."
After a moment he flipped himself over in his casing to get a better look behind him, but didn't find what he was looking for. "Doesn't look like the lady—y'know, Chell—is gonna be back anytime soon," he muttered, flipping himself back over. "And it's not like we can, y'know, get anywhere, unless we want to drop off the counter. So uh… No point in staying awake. Goodnight, mate."
With that, he initiated sleep mode, barely catching the look Space Core gave him before his eye shields drifted shut.
It was just a few moments of darkness for him, but when Wheatley awoke from sleep mode, he felt his processes running a little more smoothly and his mind a bit clearer.
And something nudging his insides.
"AAGH!" he cried, jumping in his casing and failing his handles. "What the bloody heck?!"
He saw the lady—Chell—suddenly back away from him, holding up her hands defensively. One of them carried a flashlight.
Part of him was glad to see her again, but the other part was a little more than irked at being poked around like that while he was in sleep mode. "Keep your hands to yourself, mate!" he shouted, then briefly twisted a few ways in his casing to test to see if he still in working order. He gave a twitch. "AH! See! Look what you did! Messed with my bloody circuits and—oh. Right, that was there before."
Chell glared at him, and he made an awkward gulping noise.
"Right. Um. Sorry." Pulling his handles in, he took a moment to glance around the room. The sun was out again, he was still on the counter, and Space Core was still sitting next to him, giving him a tired look. He wasn't sure what that was about, so he looked back to the lady. "It's just, uh, sort-of rude to just, y'know, poke through someone's insides. I don't think you're authorized for that sort of thing." He tilted his face. "Are you?"
The lady stooped down, and he suddenly felt the urge to scoot away from her. "Do you want to be fixed, or not?"
"...Oh." So that's what that was about. Fair enough—he had asked if she could fix him. He gave a resigned sigh and relaxed his handles. "All right, then, carry on."
Nodding, the lady grabbed one of his handles and used it to tilt him at an angle, and shone her flashlight into his insides. It was bringing back foggy memories of when the engineers were still working on him, making all sorts of uncomfortable adjustments while he was still online, because apparently putting him in sleep mode to work on him was too much of a bloody hassle or something. Still, the lady surprisingly didn't do much other than move a few wires out of the way here and there, and after a few minutes set him down.
"So what's the verdict? Am I all s—" Twitch. "Gaaaaahhh…" He twisted in his casing and looked at her through a narrowed optic. "I thought you were going to—"
"Shhh!"
Wheatley yelped and ducked into his casing.
Chell glared at him for a moment before turning her gaze to Space Core. The corrupt core gave her a few uncomprehending blinks before humming and stretching out his unbroken handle.
Biting her lip, she took the handle and carefully tilted the core at an angle. Switching the flashlight on again, she shone it into his casing.
Wheatley watched in curiosity as the lady stared blankly into his companion's casing before she leaned in closer and began looking more intently. Were their mechanics really that complicated? ...Well, actually he'd like to think he was a pretty advanced machine, but he had to admit, there were definitely constructs in Aperture with more pistons and gears than he had. And limbs. Bloody limbs.
TWITCH—clunk!
"O-ow!"
He snapped out of his thoughts to see that the lady had accidentally dropped Space Core onto his side. She rubbed his handle apologetically before setting him upright again, then looked into his casing one more time. Brow furrowing, she turned away from him and approached Wheatley again, grabbing him by the handle and turning him so she could look into his casing again.
"Okay, I have to admit, mate, I'm not… fully sure what you're doing. Are you going to fix us, or…?"
She only replied with an annoyed huff before turning back to look into the Space Core again. The other core glanced at him wearily before turning back to the lady, who rubbed the top of his casing before heading into another room. The two cores stared after her until she came back with a tool—a pair of pliers, Wheatley realized—and returned to Space Core's side.
"Um, um…" Space began to scoot backward, but Chell shushed him gently before taking his handle and setting him on his side. Shining her flashlight into his casing again, she stared at something for a few moments before sticking the pliers into his side.
Wheatley's optic went wide. "What are you—"
Chell moved quickly, pulling out several small objects before concentrating on something inside the core and moving the pliers accordingly.
And Space Core gave a startled squawk as she yanked the pliers out, then emitted a quiet moan and let his faceplate clunk onto the side of his casing. Meanwhile, the lady pulled a foreign object out of the pliers and examined it.
It was a long, sharp, wooden shard.
"...Oh." Wheatley's optic shone as a small pinpoint as he stared at the object, then at the others—smaller wooden chunks and sticks. For a moment he wondered how the objects had even gotten into the other core when he remembered that Space had smashed himself through a number of trees before landing. He blinked once, twice, then squirmed in his casing. "Ugh! No wonder he could hardly bloody move."
Heaving a sigh, the lady set Space Core upright before scooping the wooden shards into her hands and tossing them into a trashcan. Wheatley was glad to not have the painful-looking objects in sight, and turned back to his fellow core.
"Well, how're you feeling now, mate?" he asked, tilting his faceplate.
Space Core only glanced back toward the window. "G… go back to space, now?"
Giving an exasperated growl, Wheatley tipped his inner casing back to face the ceiling. "For the last time, mate, we are not going back to sp—OWWW!"
The top-right of his casing smarted sharply for a moment or two before the pain faded, and he could see the lady holding up the flashlight and fixing him with an angry glare. "What was that about?!"
She looked pointedly at his side, where the Space Core was sitting, and he followed her gaze to see that his fellow core was sitting with his faceplate resting against the bottom of his casing, his upper eye shield drooped in a strangely hopeless expression.
Was he even looking at the same core?
He turned to give the lady a baffled look and was about to comment on how strange it was to see the Space Core looking like this, but she still wore the same glare. The gears clicked into place, and his eye aperture shrunk. "Oh. Oh gosh. Agh—I'm sorry mate! Um, er, maybe you'll get to go back to space, I dunno."
Space Core looked back up at him, his optic glowing a little brighter. "Think so?"
"I dunno, maybe." Wheatley shrugged his handles helplessly before giving him an apologetic look. "Didn't mean to be so harsh, though."
"It's okay!" he replied, finally smiling again.
At least Space Core was quick to forgive. If only the lady could be—
Where'd she go?
"Wha?" Wheatley looked around in confusion before twisting in his casing and spotting her at some other part of the room, looking through an enormous book that rivaled some of the manuals he'd seen back in the labs. "What're you doing, lady?"
But Chell ignored him, perusing the book before apparently coming to something that caught her attention. She studied it for a moment before taking something off the wall and pressing a series of buttons on it.
"Still good at button-pressing, I'll give you that," Wheatley commented absently, though he still watched in utter confusion. He perked up when she glanced back at him for a moment, but his upper handle lowered in a frown when she walked out of the room and began talking in a hushed voice. "What was that about?"
He turned back to Space Core, who looked like he was about to reply when another spasm seized him. A few sparks shot out of his casing and scattered on the counter, and the core settled, heaving a tired, static-y sigh.
Shifting uneasily in his casing, Wheatley turned back to the doorway that the lady had disappeared through. In a few moments she was back, marching through the door and hanging the object she'd been carrying back up on the wall. She stared at it for a moment before turning to the cores, and Wheatley tried to speak up: "What did—"
"Getting some help," she sighed, then shook her head and began rearranging some of the items sitting around the room.
"Huh." Wheatley relaxed, then gave Space Core a smile. "Hear that, mate? She's gonna call in some, er, reinforcements, and we'll both be good as new!"
The Space Core perked up again, returning Wheatley's smile. "Yeah, fixed. A-and… back to space?"
"Er…"
He held his metaphorical tongue for a moment, glancing at the lady again. She was still cleaning up things and did not look at him, but he didn't trust her not to strike him again if he upset the Space Core. But even so… He looked back at the other core, who was looking at him expectantly, and remembered the sad look he'd seen him with earlier—and how unlike him it had been.
He didn't want to see that look again.
Clearing his nonexistent throat, Wheatley scooted closer to Space Core and tapped his upper handle lightly on the other core's casing. "I guess we'll see, mate."
The corrupt core's optic shone brightly, and he giggled. "Yeah! We'll—"
TWITCH—spark.
"...W-we'll see."
Chell looked up at the two cores, then up at the clock, and resumed organizing the house.
Wheatley immediately disliked the man.
He was skinny and tall, having to duck to get through the doorway, and he wore a coat that clearly hadn't been sent through the wash in a while. After dropping a huge, clunky toolbox to the floor, he, nonsensically, used said coat to try to clean his glasses.
He reminded the core of an intern that was supposed to be working in one of the offices, not the labs, and that had apparently thought it was appropriate to shove some trash into the side of Wheatley's casing when he couldn't find the trashcan.
"So you said it was two robots—like, old camera-bots?" the mechanic asked, trying in vain to brush some dust from his coat.
"Something like that." The way Chell spoke reminded him of the way some of the female scientists would speak when one of the male ones—or Rick—would be hanging over them and asking them one too many questions. Though honestly he wouldn't have been surprised if she spoke to everyone that way.
"Eh, don't usually see too many people repurposing those things." The man shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and scrutinized the room around him. "Usually just bust 'em open to take out the ba—" His eyes fell on Wheatley and he gave a jump. "...Those aren't camera-bots."
"Yeah, we're cores, mate," Wheatley snapped, optic narrowing. "Took you long enough to figure that one out, did it?"
The mechanic's already large eyes widened. "Uh…"
Chell shot him a glare before looking back at the man. "I know they're not what you usually work with. Can you do anything?"
"Well…" He glanced down at his tool box, then back at the cores before shrugging nonchalantly. "I can give it a shot."
She stared at him unwaveringly, but Wheatley caught her burying her face in her hands when the man turned away again.
"Right!" he said, clapping his hands together and picking up his toolbox, which left some oil-stains on the floor. "Let's take a look."
When the man slammed the toolbox onto the counter, Wheatley heard the Space Core scoot a bit closer to his side, and Wheatley fixed the man with a glare. "Hey, are you sure you're qualified to poke us with those gloves of yours? This is some advanced technology you're dealing with, mate."
The mechanic quirked an eyebrow. "You might be a bit more advanced in speech, but I've dealt with Combine technology before. You can't be any more advanced than that."
"Ooooh, you think so, mate? You really think you can handle the ol' Aperture tech? Probably couldn't repair your way out of a paper ba—" He caught the lady fiddling with a flashlight while keeping her gaze trained on him. "—aaaaand nevermind. Go ahead. Obviously, uh, well-trained for the job." He settled in his casing and heaved a sigh, tensing his handles.
"Tch. Let's see how 'advanced' you are." With that, he grabbed Wheatley by both handles and hoisted him up into the air, turning him this way and that.
Wheatley kept still only because his programming forced him to do that when he was held by the handles. Every other part of him wanted to squirm out of the mechanic's grip and hopefully land directly onto one of his massive feet. He gave a twitch.
"Ah! There's your problem." He set Wheatley down, then opened his tool kit, shuffling through the items and letting a screwdriver and a lug nut or six drop onto the counter. After a few moments he apparently found the tools he needed, and began setting them up.
Wheatley turned back to Chell, giving her a distrustful look. He narrowed his optic and shook his faceplate, and was about to say something to the mechanic when he suddenly detected the temperature rapidly increasing somewhere off to his side. "What the—"
The man tipped him to his side and reached in, and Wheatley screamed when he felt a searing pain somewhere in his internals. "HELP ME, LADY! HELP! HE'S BLOODY KILLING ME! HE'S MELTING ME FROM THE INSIDE OUT! HELP! HELP! I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GOING TO BLOODY DIE HE'S BLOODY MURDERING ME HE'S KILLING ME HE—"
He suddenly realized that the white-hot pain was long-since gone, and the mechanic had already set him upright. Blinking, he slowly shifted from one side of his casing to the other, and realized that a nagging pain—one that had been there so long he'd forgotten it had even existed—was no longer there.
He also no longer felt like he was on the verge of another annoying twitch.
"Oh."
The mechanic straightened, his back popping as he leaned back triumphantly. "Yeah, that required some real advanced repairs, there."
Wheatley sank into his casing, but glared at the man, biting back any gratefulness he had for the mechanic's fixing some broken wires. He flexed his handles, wincing at the feeling of grease left over from the man's gloves.
"Now let's look at this one," he said with a cocky smirk, turning to look at the Space Core. But he paused, his smile fading a little before he hummed and reached toward the other core's handles.
Space Core began making stammering noises, and pressed closer to his companion, who became more alert. Wheatley pushed himself up on his lower handle, leaning closer to Space Core and narrowing his optic further at the mechanic. "You be careful with him, mate!"
"Yeah, I know," the mechanic sighed, and immediately grabbed the Space Core by his broken handle.
"AUGH!" The core gave a nasty spark and tipped back, swinging his lower handle frantically and striking the man in the hand with it.
"Agh!" The man drew back, rubbing his hand, and Wheatley flexed his own handles a few times.
"Hey! You hurt him! If you try that again I'll bloody—hey—!"
Suddenly he was pulled backward to the other side of the counter, and Chell stooped down and fixed him with a tense glare. Shuddering, he let his handles droop and gave her an apologetic look.
The mechanic, meanwhile, looked more than a little annoyed. "Do you mind keeping these things under control when you call someone in?" He shook his head, rubbing his hand again. "Yeesh…"
The Space Core was shaking, and again Wheatley felt that twinge of wrongness at seeing the core shivering with something other than excitement. He stretched his pistons to try to reach closer to the other core, but Chell only pulled him back farther.
Once again the man stooped down, his brow furrowing as he pulled the Space Core closer—by the lower handle this time—and peered into his casing. After a minute or so he pulled out a pen light, shining it in and turning the core at a few different angles.
For a moment, Wheatley forgot how much he hated the man as he watched the Space Core's expression. There was fear—which he would expect from any construct having its insides examined by a stranger—but there was something else there that he couldn't place. It took him a moment to realize that Chell had loosened her grip on him, and he looked up to see that she was focused on the corrupt core as well.
"Eh." The man straightened, and everyone looked up. "Can I see that other one again?"
"But you already fixed me!" Wheatley protested. Chell only pushed him across the counter and crossed her arms.
The mechanic gave him a look before stooping down and shining the pen light into his casing. Wheatley made a disgusted sound, but cooperated, keeping his optic trained on the man's expression.
It was one of concern.
He moved away from Wheatley and back over to the Space Core, looking into his casing again, then shook his head.
"What?" Wheatley asked, pushing himself up on his lower handle. "What is it?"
"Well, I can do this," the mechanic said, grabbing some of the tools he'd used before—a soldering iron, among other things, Wheatley noted—and tipping the Space Core onto his side again. The core's optic flew open and its aperture contracted to its narrowest point as the man got to work on some broken wires. Space simulated a few soft "ow, ow, ow" sounds every so often, but otherwise remained surprisingly quiet. When the man finally pulled his tools away and set the core upright, Space Core's upper eye shield drooped and his faceplate fell. It wasn't a hopeless expression, though—only a tired one.
But the repairs were done, and Wheatley smiled at his companion. "There! Isn't that better, mate? 'S a bit rough goin' through that, yeah, but it's all over with now."
For a moment he thought the Space Core was going to reply, but instead he was seized with another spasm, and sparks showered the counter. "Urk…!"
Wheatley's optic widened, then narrowed as he swung his faceplate toward the mechanic. "I thought you fixed him!"
The mechanic drew in a breath, pointedly ignoring Wheatley and looking at Chell instead. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Talk about what?!" Wheatley blurted, his optic's aperture narrowing into a white-hot pinpoint. "You said you'd fix him and you didn't! Go finish the bloody job!"
Chell didn't look particularly happy either, but she stepped away from the counter and led the man into another room, her movements stiff.
As he watched the two leave, Wheatley wasn't sure whether he felt more angry at the mechanic for not doing his job or at Chell for not telling him off. Instead he turned to Space Core, giving an annoyed growl. "Honestly, mate? That guy has no clue what he's doing."
Space Core only gave another staticky sigh. "Yeah."
"You feelin' better, at least?" He tried to scoot himself closer, but stopped when he nearly tipped himself onto his side. "I mean, he did fix up those wires. So that's a bit better, innit?"
Blink, blink. "Yeah."
That horrible, uneasy feeling crept over Wheatley at seeing Space Core like this. He fidgeted in place for a moment before scooting closer to the core. "Hey," he began, trying to put on a more positive front, "it'll be all right. After she tells this guy off, we'll find someone else who can patch you up, right?"
Finally Space Core looked up, giving a small smile. "Yeah. F-fix up. Get better."
The door opened, and both cores turned to see the two humans step out, the mechanic making exasperated gestures with his arms. "...so maybe there's someone else, but it's not me, okay?"
Chell bore a rather sour expression, but did not respond otherwise.
No matter—Wheatley would do it for her. "Oh, so you're admitting it then?" he called out, and the mechanic shot him an offended look before turning back to Chell.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'll call you if I find something, but don't get your hopes up."
Again, Chell said nothing, at least for the moment, instead looking over at a bag sitting on a chair nearby. She marched to it and began digging through it. "How much do I owe you?"
Wheatley looked back to Space Core while the humans worked out the boring payment details. Space Core at least looked more alert now, trying to flip himself back in his casing to look out the window. But something within him ground noisily, preventing him from turning all the way, and a few more sparks shot out of his casing.
"No space yet," Wheatley said quietly, while Space readjusted himself with a disappointed whine.
The door opened and closed, indicating the mechanic's departure, and Wheatley spun in his casing. "Well then! Good ridd—AGH hey!"
Chell had yanked him aside by his handles, and leaned down to glare at him. "You are not helping."
"And that guy was?" he spat, only to begin stammering when the lady began to lift him off the table. "Wait wait wait where are you—"
"Lady?" Space Core's eye aperture shrunk as he watched her.
But the lady said nothing, only hauling Wheatley toward the door. Even he knew what that meant.
"NO!" he cried, wishing he could flail his handles. "I won't do it again, mate, promise…!"
Chell ignored his cries, but stopped at hearing a shout from the counter.
"No, p-please!" came Space Core's stammering voice. "K-keep space friend? Please?"
Wheatley swiveled his optic between the lady's face and his companion's optic, waiting to see what would happen, and finally Chell heaved a defeated sigh, walking back to the kitchen and setting him back on the counter.
"Thank you thank you thank you thank you," Wheatley gasped, shutting his optic in relief before opening it to grin at Space Core. He dropped the look when Chell leaned in close, and he quailed back.
"I'm only doing this for him," she whispered. Leaning back, she rubbed Space Core's lower handle at the joint before turning around.
Narrowing his eye shields, Wheatley waited until she was halfway across the room before retorting: "I'm still right!"
She stopped, and he went on, "That guy did not help! Space still needs to be fixed, and he didn't do his job!"
Behind him, Space Core gave a sigh. "Still not in space."
"Yeah! So—so we need to find someone else who can fix him up, okay?"
"Yes." Chell did not turn around. "Okay." She stood where she was for a moment before walking stiffly back to a table that stood against the wall. The massive book she'd been looking through earlier was still sitting there, and she began to flip through it again. Evidently she found something else useful, because she pulled the device off of the wall and began punching buttons on it before carrying it into another room.
"Don't worry about it, mate," Wheatley said gently, looking back at Space Core again. "She'll find someone else, then they'll come and—well, you'll have to go through some bloody annoying repairs first—but then you'll get better, and we can forget about this mess."
"Then space?"
Hesitating, he glanced back toward the closed door. The lady's voice was, strangely, not hushed at all this time, but he still couldn't make out the words.
He shook his face and shrugged his handles. "I dunno, maybe. ...Probably."
Wheatley wasn't entirely sure of the reason, but Chell had placed them elsewhere. Not outside, thank goodness, but it was still an odd location. Instead of being perched atop the counter, they were now sitting on a couch.
Or well, he was sitting on the couch. Space Core was sitting on Chell's lap, and she was sitting on the opposite end of the couch. Wheatley was only there because Space had begged for him to stay nearby—the lady had planned on leaving him sitting in the kitchen.
She was currently reading a book and idly rubbing the top of Space Core's casing every so often, like the way people did with cats. Wheatley had seen it before during that whole Bring Your Cat to Work Day thing—the scientists seemed quite happy whenever the animals would interrupt their work to jump on their laps, and the humans would respond by petting them. It irked him—he wasn't allowed to interrupt their work, but if a cat did it, it was perfectly fine.
This situation irked him, too.
"Why the favoritism?" he asked suddenly, eying the lady through a narrowed optic. "Don't think I haven't noticed. I mean, yeah, he's hurt and all, but…"
Chell looked down at the Space Core, who was faced away from her, and waited to see if he would say something before turning to Wheatley. "He was on my side."
"And I wasn't?" Wheatley started, only for his eye aperture to contract when he considered his question for half a second longer. "Oh. Um. Right. Okay. Point taken." Slowly he pulled his faceplate inward and curled his handles around his casing, feeling his systems heat up briefly in embarrassment.
Once again the lady went quiet, going back to reading her book and leaving him to fidget uneasily. He hated the silence. It wasn't as bad as the vacuum of space, but even so, it had been enough to drive him nearly bonkers. Granted, Space Core had been there with him, so it wasn't entirely silent all the time. Space talked too—incessantly, almost—which also got on his nerves a bit. But… better than nothing, he supposed.
Speaking of Space, he hadn't said anything in a while, had he? "Hey Space, are you—"
"He was upset," Chell said suddenly, and Wheatley snapped his attention back to her. She only regarded him coolly before continuing. "You were asleep last night."
"...Well, yeah," Wheatley replied, flipping his upper handle in a wide swoop. "S'bloody boring when it's too dark to see and no one to talk to."
"He wanted to talk to you."
He pulled his faceplate inward, narrowing his eye shields. "He wha? Well, why didn't he say somethin'? And why doesn't he say something now, anyway?"
Chell exhaled through her nose, frowning at him, then leaned down to look at Space Core. Suddenly her brow furrowed, and she tapped him on the side before turning him.
His optic was open, and blank.
"SPACE!" Wheatley cried, eye shields flying open and handles flailing. "Hey, wake up, mate! What're you doing?!"
Chell shook the damaged core a few times, then smacked him with the palm of her hand. Nothing happened—the core's optic remained blank. Biting her lip, she looked up helplessly at Wheatley.
"W-well don't look at me like that, mate, I don't know what he's doing! I mean, agh… Could be asleep and forgot to shut his eye shields or something—I don't know! Never bloody went to sleep like that."
Meanwhile, the lady turned Space Core until he was entirely facing her, and shook him again a few times, a bit more roughly than before.
A thought struck Wheatley—hopefully a good one, he hoped—and he struggled to scoot himself closer across the couch's soft surface. "Hey, hey, wait," he said, and the lady looked back at him. "Do you hear anything?"
The lady went still, Wheatley followed suit, and the two listened. Sure enough, there was a very faint whirring noise coming from somewhere within the Space Core's frame.
"Well, that's good enough news," Wheatley said, relaxing. "Pretty sure it's just a hiccup in one of his systems somewhere. He'll be back on—"
Twitch.
"Ah! There we go!"
The Space Core blinked a few times, his optic shining a dull yellow, and looked up at the lady. "Oh. H-hi lady. Hiii…"
"There, see?" Wheatley grinned up at the lady. "Everything's fine."
Chell wrapped her arms around the corrupt core and leaned her head against him.
Eye shields narrowing, Wheatley gave an annoyed hum. "Well, anyway, and I heard you calling someone else, I think? So he'll be fine soon, aaand… we can move on. To… whatever we're going to move on to. Not really sure what you had in mind, but, honestly, anything's better than sitting on a table all day."
"...Yes," she replied after some time. "I did call someone else. A few someones."
"There you go, mate!" He turned his attention back to the Space Core, who regarded him from underneath one of Chell's arms. "Hear that? You'll have a few someones working on you next time! It'll be like old times back in the lab—er, well, actually, not exactly fun times, then, but you get what I'm saying—they'll patch you up."
Space Core nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah!"
There—the lady was doing her part and gathering other humans to fix up Space Core, and then Space Core would feel better, and the lady would maybe stop being angry at him, and then everything would be great!
Odd that the lady wasn't smiling, though.
She put them back on the counter for the night, close to the window. It annoyed Wheatley that they would, once again, have to sit next to a clear view of what had essentially been their prison for the last few years. He got that Space Core still wanted to see it, but honestly, Wheatley preferred the couch. He could've probably been left there, except Space was insistent on his staying around at all times. They'd have to work at it, he supposed.
Maybe they could even do that now!
He could scoot off a few inches and stay that way for tonight, then the next night, a whole foot, then the night after that, a few yards—wait, would that put him off the counter? Probably not, anyway—after that he'd—
"Space friend?"
Wheatley groaned internally before turning back to Space Core. "Yeah, mate?"
"See space?"
This again? He shut his optic, pulling his handles against his casing for a moment before turning to face the window again. "Y-yeah, mate, I see it."
"Wh-wha'd'you see?"
"Umm..." Squinting, he looked out the window and up at the starry expanse, wishing that a whole flock of clouds would spontaneously cover the sky. "I see… er… space."
Space Core whined, and the squeaking, grinding sounds accompanying the vocalization indicated he was rolling his face. "But wha'd'you see?"
"Why do you—" Wheatley had turned to give him an accusing look, but it melted at seeing the sheer desperation and sadness in the other core's contracted optic. Guiltily he looked back out the window. "I see… stars. In a bunch of blackness."
"Yeah! Yeah, yeah. The moon? See it?"
The moon can go bloody—
The corrupt core gave a violent spark.
"Yeah, mate, I see it."
"What's—what's it look like? The moon—what's the moon like?"
"It's… agh. Big and white. And… Well, wait." He blinked up at the celestial object, tilting his faceplate. "I thought the moon was supposed to be round, but it's more… oval-ish?"
"G-gibbous phase, heh! Stars? What about stars?"
"Already told you, mate, there are stars—"
"What stars? C-constellations?"
Oh, those. He'd heard a never-ending string of their names back in space, but he was never good at remembering which ones were which. "Umm… Orion. Definitely Orion. That's the… that's the one that looks like a spoon, right?"
"Hmm. Big Dipper. Or Little Dipper."
"Dunno if I see those, mate. Or, uh, any of the other ones, actually? I'm not..." Wheatley looked helplessly back at Space Core, only to flinch when he saw the core with his faceplate resting on the bottom of his casing. His optic almost looked blank, but he knew the aperture was contracted, hiding the core's yellow iris. It looked so wrong. Why was he so upset? This wasn't right, it wasn't right at all— "Actually, now that I look, a little, I think I can see them!"
Space Core looked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah! They're all bright, and, uh… there's…" What was the name, what was the name… "The… N… North Star!"
"Yeah! Yeah! Polaris!" The core giggled. "What else?"
Wheatley continued to rattle off the names of whatever constellations he could remember. Occasionally Space Core would ask him what they looked like, and if he couldn't remember, he would bluff it. The other core didn't seem to care, and was back to giggling and babbling like his usual self, aside from when his internals would spasm and spark.
It was… strangely comforting. He'd spent several years in space with the other core, and now that they were in a new place, it felt… nice to have something familiar when the lady wasn't around. Granted, even the lady's being around wasn't always so comforting, given how she'd been acting toward him. But…
"Hey, mate?" Wheatley asked, interrupting another one of the Space Core's ramblings about the celestial bodies.
"Yeah?"
He was surprised at how quickly the core changed gears, but went on, "Er… thanks for not letting the lady throw me out. Again."
"Heh! N-no problem, space friend."
Wheatley turned to smile at his companion, who smiled back, his eye aperture now fully expanded. But then Wheatley paused, his smile fading—was his own optic glitching? Because he was pretty sure Space Core's optic was supposed to be bright yellow, not dull ochre.
"Stars?" the corrupt core asked, turning back to the window, and Wheatley shook his faceplate.
"Yeah, I think I see… Cygnus the duck out there."
The two cores stayed awake all night counting the stars, talking, and enjoying one-another's company. They'd been so preoccupied that it caught Wheatley by surprise to hear Chell suddenly approaching them.
"Lady?" he asked, flipping himself in his casing. "What're you doing up so l—wait."
Blinking, he flipped himself back over to see that the sun was already rising. "Oh."
Chell turned him around to face out into the room, but that was about all the attention she paid him otherwise. She turned Space around too, patting him on the top of his hull. The core blinked and hummed at her, but said nothing else, and she shrugged and moved into the kitchen.
"I did talk to him last night," Wheatley called to her. He nodded at Space Core, who gave him a confused look, before looking back to the lady. "So you can't get mad at me for that one." But slowly he remembered what Chell had told him yesterday, and turned back to the Space Core. "Er, other than talking about the stars, though, was there… something you wanted to talk to me about?"
Space Core blinked. "Huh?"
"Well, y'know, the lady was just telling me that you'd wanted to talk to me about something last night, er, the night before. What was it?"
Blink, blink. "...Huh?"
Wheatley laughed. "Well, I guess it wasn't all that important if you can't remember it, eh?"
Chell, who had been over by the fridge, was now focused on the cores again, her brow furrowed. Meanwhile, Space Core was looking around, blinking frantically.
"Wh… where's space?" he asked.
"Er, it's gone for now," Wheatley replied. "Sun's up now."
"No—no—was in space. Wh-where—where—where'd it go—where'd it go—" His movements were growing more frantic and desperate, his optic's aperture expanding and contracting wildly. "Where'd it go—where'd it go—"
What was he—? "Hey, mate, calm down—"
The lady was immediately at Space's side, crouching down so her face was level with his optic. "Do you remember me?" she asked, her voice even.
"W-well I should hope so!" Wheatley sputtered. "We've only been staying at your house two bloody days!"
"SHHH!"
Space Core was starting to tremble as he looked back and forth, optic narrowing in an upset expression. "Um, um, I-I d… don't…" he stammered, fighting to get the words out between panicked gasps. "D-d… d-dunno…"
Slowly the realization dawned upon Wheatley of what might be happening to the other core. Giving a nervous laugh, he tried to scoot closer to him. "Y-you remember me, right?"
But Space only shook his faceplate again, shutting his optic. "I-I dunno!" he cried, his voice sounding choked. "Sh-should know, d-don't know, sh-should… wh-where's space…"
Chell was staring at a blank spot on the counter next to the Space Core as she rubbed the top of his casing. The core's speech had degenerated into shuddering gasps and whimpers.
It's a glitch in his processor, Wheatley reminded himself, giving a twitch that was not a symptom of broken wires. Cautiously he scooted closer to the other core and nudged him with his faceplate. That's all it is. He'll be fine in a few minutes.
None of them said anything—Chell only kept stroking the top of Space Core's casing, Wheatley stayed leaning against him, and Space continued to whimper.
ZAP!
Space Core gave a violent spasm, knocking Wheatley backward and causing Chell to jump back. He writhed in his casing for a moment before settling, twitching, and finally resting his faceplate on the counter.
"S-Spacey…?" Wheatley stammered, turning in his casing to look back at the core.
It was a second before Space Core spoke. "S-sorry, space friend…" he said quietly, shutting his optic. "Sorry, lady."
Chell let out a deep breath, and Wheatley mimicked the sound. "Oh bloody heck mate, you gave us a scare," he gasped. As the lady reached over to set him upright, he relaxed, grinning over at his friend. "Don't worry, mate, we've got it all taken care of! Pretty soon, now, those blokes the lady called will come and fix you up, and you won't have to worry about your processor bugging out on you like that."
Space Core opened his optic, giving a small smile. "Yeah."
"Right! So, when are they coming in?" He turned to the lady, but blinked when he found her staring at him, her expression unreadable. "Er… Did you hear me? Those people you called—when're they coming in?"
Sighing, Chell reached out and hoisted Wheatley off the counter.
"AGH!"
"No!" Space Core cried, reaching out with his faceplate and cringing when his damaged pistons ground within him. "No, no!"
"We'll be back," Chell said gently, rubbing the other core's faceplate with her thumb. He gave an uneasy whine, but pulled his faceplate in again, giving her a pitiful look.
"But—where are we going?" Wheatley asked, straining his optic to look up at the lady as she carried him into another room and shut the door. When she didn't answer immediately, he looked around—this room reminded him a bit of the extended relaxation center, what with the bed and all.
Speaking of, the lady sat him on said bed, and took a seat next to him.
"So… what are we doing in here?"
"I told you I called some people. I didn't say they'd be coming in."
Wheatley blinked. "Er, what? But… why wouldn't they come in?"
"Repairs cost money." Pausing, she looked over at a bag that was sitting on a dresser. "I don't have enough."
"...Oh." He blinked a few more times, then gave a nervous grin. "Well, uh, not exactly well-versed in, uh, finances, and all, but I'm assuming money is something you can earn?"
She didn't answer.
"Yes, pretty sure it's something you earn, so, you don't have the money for repairs now, but you'll have it later. Right?"
Chell bit her lip.
"I mean, yeah, sucks to be poor Spacey, being stuck like that for a while, but so long as he knows he'll get fixed up later, I'm sure he'll be fine."
She looked down at the floor, and Wheatley rolled his faceplate, thinking. "Or you could, I dunno, give 'em an I.O.U. or something. Pay 'em later, right? You… you can do that, right?"
"No."
Wheatley pulled his faceplate inward. "Wh—no? Well, tell 'em you've got a friend who's hurt, and needs to be fixed up, and you'll just have to pay 'em l—"
"You think I didn't try that?" she snapped, shooting a glare at him. He flinched back, and she looked aside again.
"Well how'm I supposed to know?!" he countered, feeling something burning within him as he let the words tumble out of his processor. "You haven't exactly been good about communication, lady. Though I guess that's no real surprise, coming from someone who never said a bloody word to me for years. And someone who has a tendency of letting poor, defenseless cores get hurt—oooh, is that surfacing again, then, luv?"
She struck him, knocking him off the bed, and he yelped, more out of surprise than any actual pain. His optic swiveled up to look at her as she glared down at him—her arm was still outstretched, palm out, but it took him a moment to realize she was shaking.
Giving a shudder of his own, his optic narrowed. "What is wrong with you, lady?"
For a moment, he thought she was going to say something—and oh, he would've loved to hear it—but instead she stooped down, grabbed his upper handle, and hauled him roughly out of the room.
As soon as they were out the door, Space Core looked up. "Oh, oh! You're back?" he asked, pushing himself up on his lower handle for half a second.
Chell gave him a look—what it was, Wheatley couldn't see—then dropped Wheatley onto the counter next to him. Before he could even catch her eye, she was already storming back into her room. His optic contracted sharply in anger, and he shouted after her, "Y-you bloody—"
SLAM.
...Well, fine, he couldn't think of a good curse anyway.
Wheatley sank back into his casing, rolling his optic over to look at Space Core. The corrupt core was smiling, so there was that, at least, though he did wonder about his optic's change in color. Unless it had always been that way and Wheatley's own optic was playing tricks on him.
Space's smile faded. "Sad lady," he remarked with a glance in the door's general direction, then gave a twitch.
"Doubt it," Wheatley muttered, narrowing his optic. "Mad is more like it. I don't think that lady could care about someone if her bloody life depended on it." Which it did, at one point, he thought, and shuddered. ...All she had to do was catch me.
No, stop, forget it. In the past.
A zapping and grinding noise drew him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Space Core seizing with another spasm. ...This isn't in the past, though, he thought.
"D… don't think so?" Space managed to choke out, twitching again before settling on the counter.
Looking his companion up and down and taking in the damage, Wheatley heaved a sigh, then shut his optic. "I… don't know, mate." If she did, she'd probably do something to help you.
"But… Ch-Chell is nice."
His optic flew open and locked onto the other core. "You're off your bloody rocker," he snapped, eye shields narrowing.
"T… tried to fix. D-didn't… throw you out. Let us—l-let us look at stars."
"Oh, yeah, real nice of her. What a—what a bloody ol' saint."
Plink, plink. "S-space friend…?"
"What makes you say she's so nice when she doesn't bloody even care enough to fix you?"
And immediately his handles clamped around his frame and he yanked his faceplate inward. "Oooh…"
The Space Core blinked once, twice, and slowly tilted his faceplate. "H… huh?"
"Nothing—nothing, you know what? Forget I said anything—you'll get fixed soon and you won't have to worry about it, right mate?"
"R… right." Space rested his faceplate against the bottom of his casing, simulating a staticky sigh. "Soon fixed. Soon space."
And just as he looked almost comfortable, another spasm seized him, sparks dancing around his casing as his whole frame shook and his innards ground. Wheatley flinched away from the sight, feeling a strange, sick feeling somewhere in his system. It did not ease when the Space Core finally settled again, humming a quiet, "s-soon."
Wheatley worked his handles and outer frame until he had a better view of the other core. Even with his cracked optic he could see the damage clearly—the half-missing upper handle, the cracks and dents that still riddled the core's casing and faceplate, the occasional sparks from deeper within him… And there were the sounds, too—those grinding, rattling noises as the core moved, and the loud whirring noises from within him, as though his processor were working twice as hard as normal.
A thought occurred to him.
And he pulled away from it so quickly that his processor reeled. No, no, no, don't even think of that, mate. Of course that won't happen. Everything'll be just fine. The lady's just being bloody stupid right now—stubborn, that's what she is, that's what she's always been—but she'll come around, and she'll pay someone to fix him up proper, then we can move on. That's it. That's all it is.
"You'll be fine, mate," he said absently.
So absently he wasn't even sure whom he was talking to.
The day trudged on in agonizing slowness. Space was quieter than usual, and Wheatley rarely saw the lady. When he did, it was when she was going into the kitchen to eat something, and she never said anything to them. She would rub the Space Core's lower handle as she walked by, but never even glanced at Wheatley. In return, he never said a word to her, either.
Not directly, anyway.
"You'll be better soon, mate," he said to Space with deliberate volume when the lady was leaving the kitchen. "Nothin' to worry about, I'm sure."
She walked past, her gaze straight ahead.
Meanwhile, the Space Core only blinked slowly, shifting in his casing again. It ground noisily, enough to make Wheatley flinch.
"That doesn't sound fun, mate," he said, loudly, but the lady shut the door to her room behind her.
Suddenly he bashed his lower handle against the counter and scooted to face his companion again. "Don't bloody act like that, though—you're going to get better."
"S-sorry, space friend," Space replied, shifting in his casing again. "Hurts."
"Nngh…" His anger quickly faded and his gaze softened. "Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to—why are you acting like this? You know they're—the lady's going to send someone else to help you. I-I mean, I'm sure you feel like crap, but don't look so…"
Space's optic slid shut. "Just w-want space."
"Space! Right!" Wheatley perked up, nudging the other core with his faceplate. "See? There's somethin' to look forward to—it'll be night soon—already getting dark—and you'll be able to see all the bloody stars you want! Stare at 'em all night long!"
Humming, Space Core opened his optic to give a small smile. "L-love space."
Relief washed over him at the sight. "Yes. There, see? It's not so bad! Just—just think about all the stars you'll get to see, right? You'll be okay!"
"...Yeah." Heaving a staticky sigh, he tried to settle onto the counter again, relaxing.
Only for his frame to seize up in another spasm.
Frantically Wheatley scooted away to avoid the sparks. "It's okay—you'll be all right—"
Except the lady isn't trying to get help anymore—
Wheatley's optic narrowed, the aperture contracting to a pinprick.
"CHELL!"
It was a few moments before the door opened, and Chell stared at him from across the room.
"All right, lady, when are we getting a mechanic to come and look at him?"
He heard Space give a quiet moan beside him, but ignored it for the time being. The lady, meanwhile, began to approach him, and he kept his gaze trained on her.
"We're not putting this off, luv—when're you gonna have someone come over? You and I both know he's not well-off, and—" He'd turned to look at the Space Core to affirm his assertion, only to find the core's optic had gone black again. Growling in utter frustration, he bashed his handle against the counter again, leaving a mark.
When the lady leaned her palms against the counter and looked down at him, he prepared to launch into another rant, but something about her expression made him pause. Her eyes looked different, though he couldn't place how.
She drew in a shaking breath. "Space Core is not going to get better."
Wheatley blinked, the words not immediately processing. "W-well what're you talking about?" he stammered automatically, optic darting between the Space Core's still—but whirring—body and the lady's face. Yes, her eyes were different—they were… shining? It didn't matter. "O-of course he's not going to get better, mate, not unless you bloody call someone to h—"
"The mechanic told me something," she said, leaning down closer. He stared into her eyes, expression shifting to one of consternation. "Both his processor and his main power source are extensively damaged."
"N-no they aren't," he replied. He could hear his own processor whirring loudly.
"They're not going to last."
"That's—l-lady do you know how hard it is to hurt us that badly?"
"You fell from space, Wheatley."
"So-bloody-what?!" he blurted, spinning in his casing and fixing her with a glare. "Would you look at me, luv? I fell from space! Right as bloody rain! Not a thing wrong with me!"
Chell pulled away, drawing in another shaky breath. "You were lucky, Wheatley."
"Obviously not if I landed smack dab next to you!" He could feel his casing begin to tremble, though he fought to keep still. "I-I know what this is, lady. I-I know what you're about! Didn't want to forgive me, no, of course, wouldn't want to show a—a kind gesture to any cores about!"
He turned away, partially because he was starting to hate looking at her and partially because his vision was blurring for some reason. "Y-you know what I saw, mate? You know what I saw when I was in the—th-the chassis? I saw you. I saw videos of you being your usual murderous self—and not just with her, ooooh no! No no no, you know what I saw? Yeah—saw you killing cores! Dropping 'em down the incinerator! Wha'd they do to you? Nothing! Get a kick out of that, did you? Murdering helpless, defenseless cores?"
He swung around to glare at her again. "What's a few more, then? What's a few more to a murderer like you? Is that it?"
Her unwavering glare did not surprise him, but her next words did. "You want to leave him like this?" she asked quietly.
"...What?"
Her gaze was steady, even if her voice was shaking. "Do you want to leave him in pain until his processor shuts down?"
"It's not going to!" he countered, shaking his faceplate until he was dizzy. "You're stupid, mate! Bloody stubborn idiot! Call the mechanic!" But she didn't respond, and he drew his handles in, shaking. "You're right—I-I don't want him to be in pain, so call the mechanic! You can't keep dodging it, lady! Call—"
"Space…?"
The quiet voice silenced them.
Wheatley slowly turned back, and his mind went blank of everything but the scene before him.
Space's optic was a dull, dark yellow, the iris nearly hidden by his drooping eye shields. The loud whirring of his processor was stuttering, but there was another noise—a grinding of metal against metal as the core repeatedly tried to lift his faceplate, only for it to fall back down with a soft clunk.
"Space...?" he repeated, the voice a foreign, weak whisper.
For once in his life, Wheatley could not formulate words. Normally they came spilling out of him, unhinged, but now, he had nothing. No jokes, no questions, no encouragement. Nothing. He didn't feel as though his vocal processor had been torn out—he felt as though it had never existed in the first place.
"Space...?"
Neither of them knew how long they'd been staring at Space Core in silence, but finally something clicked in Wheatley's mind—his friend wanted to look up at space, but could no longer lift his faceplate. But even if he could, he wasn't even facing the window, and judging by his actions, he didn't even realize it.
The one thing in his life he cared about most, and he couldn't see it.
Slowly the thoughts came together in his mind: He knew the sounds. He knew the symptoms Space was exhibiting. He knew everything. He knew it all along. It clicked, in part of his mind, but the rest of him was slow to follow.
"We need to do something," he said suddenly, calmly, the words sounding detached from the rest of him.
And without a word, Chell let out a breath and stooped down to pick Wheatley up. He made no protests as she carried him outside and set him on the front porch—instead his gaze turned up to the sky, where the stars, one by one, shone out of the blackness. In spite of how loathe he'd been to look at them before, now, he felt like the world would drop from beneath him if he looked away.
It felt entirely too long before the lady returned, carrying Space with her, and Wheatley did not turn to look at them when she took a seat next to him, his companion nestled carefully in her lap.
"Th-that took a while," Wheatley stammered. Chell only hummed in reply.
He finally tore his gaze away from the stars to look, and something within him gave a lurch at seeing Space again.
The one thing that made him happy more than anything else, and he wasn't even trying to look at it anymore. Instead he only shifted every few moments, as though no position he could fit himself into felt right. He wasn't speaking.
Now Wheatley knew for sure his vocal processor was there, because it hurt. "Spacey?" he ventured.
Space did not respond other than giving a slow, delayed blink.
The pain within his vocal processor had hitched to a sharp stab, warping his voice to a higher pitch."Up—t-turn… turn his faceplate up."
The lady shifted him in her lap and touched the bottom of his faceplate lightly, tipping it up toward the sky. Space Core did not respond.
For a fleeting second he thought that was it, but he could still hear the struggling, stuttering whii—r-r-r from within the core. No, he was still fighting.
The words came tumbling out again. "There's… th-there's stars, mate." Please look. "All—a-all of the stars are there." Just one more look, please. "Big Dipper, Little Dipper, a-all… all of the dippers, the North Star…" One last look and I'll never ask you again. "P-Polaris, C… Cygnus, Drac-c-co…" I'll never yell at you or be hard on you again, I'm sorry. "There's… there's the moon!" I'm sorry, just one more look, don't forget me. "C-can't you s-s-see it?"
Can't you see me?
Whii-r-r-r-r…
Chell shifted, and he tore his gaze away from Space, only for a moment. He could see her reaching into her pocket, and suddenly he wanted to stare at the other core all the longer, his optic locked onto the dim yellow light.
She turned him away from the stars, and Wheatley kept his optic fixed on him, forcing himself not to look at the objects the lady had retrieved with shaking hands. But he found out quickly that one was a pen light anyway, as it snapped on to shine inside the core's casing. He had an idea for what the second one was, as it was pushed into the core's side.
I'm sorry.
The lifeless core's optic suddenly widened, and a shudder racked his frame, but he didn't speak as Chell moved the tool.
I'm sorry, mate…
Chell drew in a breath.
Don't forget me.
Space Core seized up, his faceplate straining upward, then finally settled, the dim light from his optic fading, matching the blackness of space.