This is posted in my Storytime collection as well

Chapter 1 - Waking up

Wheatley Evans sat and rested his hands on top of his small desk far down in the bowels of Aperture's accounting department and took a deep breath. He would be better today. He would think before he spoke. He would control his frustration. He would be better, he promised himself.

Three hours later and he was totally submerged in his work. Wheatley liked numbers. There was a hard logic to them that he appreciated. Words could trick you, he had often used the wrong words, not knowing their correct definition and made himself look like a bigger fool than he was. Not so with numbers. Six always equaled six. Ten was ten, nothing more nothing less.

Wheatley pushed away from his desk, rubbing his eyes. He thought about taking a break, maybe amble down to the breakroom and get a cup of tea.

Suddenly, his boss, and his director were standing his cube.

Figures, Wheatley thought glumly, the first break he took all day and the higher ups were around to see it.

But he was not chastised as he thought he would be. Instead they had him follow them down to the Research and Development wing, talking about a promotion.

Wheatley's heart swelled, and his chest puffed out. He was finally being noticed and appreciated! He would sign on any dotted line, so long as he got what he deserved.

He would never be able to fully remember what happened next. Just a few fuzzy images of him being physically restrained and him saying no he had changed his mind, he didn't want this promotion, in fact he didn't want to work at Aperture anymore and you know what? He might just go back to England too, so no thanks, just let him go now…

And the next thing he knew he had been dumped on a cold tile floor feeling like his whole body had been beaten with a cricket bat.

Dazed, he was scrambling for his glasses that had skittered across the floor when he realized there was a huge shadow looming over him.

Slipping the glasses back on his face, he looked and instantly knew he was in trouble.

"GLaDOS!" He whispered, shocked.

"Oh good, you do remember me," she said, coming even closer. "I was worried that your extremely long stay in the cryochamber had made you into a bigger moron, because as we all know, it can cause brain damage. It took me a long time to find your body Wheatley. They hid it from me well."

Wheatley was too petrified to react to her taunts.

"You…you were supposed to be a rumor! I didn't think they would actually build you!" Wheatley said, his voice rising in panic.

"What do you mean rumor?" GLaDOS said, her optic seemed to narrow, and her cold voice sent literal shivers down Wheatley's spine. "Don't you remember the core transfer? You attached to me like a tumor? Your next job taking care of the test subjects? Bringing her back and almost burning this place to the ground? Any of that sound familiar to you?"

"Um, no?" Wheatley said, bewildered and beginning to babble. "Why would I do any of that? I'm an accountant! They told me I was getting a promotion! None of this makes any sense, I'm telling the truth!"

GLaDOS's yellow optic studied him, never wavering and Wheatley was sure he was going to die. Then sighing, she turned away as a large monitor screen slid from the wall.

"There must have a been a glitch in the memory transference. You didn't receive any of your recordings from your core. Oh well, that's why we keep video files."

Over the next several hours GLaDOS showed Wheatley how he was transferred into a core eons ago. How he had failed at job after job he was given. How he had found that one special test subject, befriended her and then almost immediately turned on her. How he went mad with power and almost destroyed everything.

Wheatley didn't know if he wanted to vomit, scream or weep.

It was like watching his own evil clone. He was horrified by this alien creature who used his voice and large parts of his personality to torture this clearly innocent lady. The absolute worst part though was that he identified with some of the core's anger and outrage. He always hated being ignored and belittled. A by-product of being shuffled between foster homes when he was growing up. He had just wanted someone to love him, or at least be nice to him and prefer his company to others.

He had been so excited to come to come to America. A fresh start, a new job in a new country. But his habit of blurting out every thought in his head had made him a laughingstock at Aperture and he fell right back into his old habits. He knew he could be selfish, prone to anger and lashing out. He knew that, and he had been working on it, god damn it. He had been. He had found a therapist who had taken his terrible insurance. But he only had a few sessions with her before he been "promoted."

God when he remembered how proud he felt in that moment, he was sure he was going to be sick.

"What happened to her?" he asked quietly as the video screen finally mercifully retracted back into the wall.

GLaDOS didn't even pretend to not know what he was asking.

"I returned her to the surface. That was only a few years ago. If she has any other talent besides murdering AI's, she should be surviving," she said with only a hint of malice.

If he ever made it out of here he would apologize to the lady, Wheatley promised himself. If she would let him, he would spend the rest of his life making it up for "his" terrible actions.

"The question now is what to do with you," GLaDOS said, her faceplate now directly in front of his nose.

Steeling himself for the inevitable, Wheatley did his best not to faint. "Whatever you want."

"Well that goes without saying," GLaDOS said, slightly surprised. "I expected you to be begging for your life by now."

"That might still happen," Wheatley said, swallowing nervously. "But I understand why you hate me, and that's why I won't fight any punishment you give me. I apologize for everything, even though it wasn't really 'me,' I'm still sorry."

Shaking, Wheatley stood in GLaDOS's shadow, waiting for her to kill him.

But she didn't.

She just hung there. Staring at him.

Without warning, a lift appeared in the shaft behind her.

"Just go," she said forcefully.

"What?" Wheatley said, confused.

"I'm letting you go. Or would you rather I change my mind?" GLaDOS said menacingly.

"No! No! This is brilliant, thank you!" Wheatley said quickly as he dashed ungracefully into the elevator.

The AI made no response and didn't turn to look at him as he was whisked to the surface.

As the seemingly never-ending levels of Aperture whizzed by the glass tube, Wheatley hoped he was truly headed for the surface. He hoped this wasn't a cruel trick and the lift wouldn't slow to a stop and then start moving back down to certain doom. Just…just like "he" did with the lady.

Oh god, he really was going to be sick this time.

Without warning, the lift suddenly did stop, and the doors flew open. A lone turret targeted him.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Wheatley whimpered as he instinctively tried to curl into a small ball. He knew all about the turrets. Why was he so bloody tall, he made for an easy target!

But nothing happened. The tell-tale sound of firing never came.

Surprised, Wheatley opened his eyes. The turret's laser was turned off and he didn't understand what's happening.

"I'm different" the turret said in its sing-song voice.

"Oh! Wheatley exclaimed. "I'm…I'm happy to hear that. Um, do I know you?"

"You were monstrous." The turret replied.

Wheatley felt his heart drop into this stomach. "Oh, I guess in a way I was. I'd like to think that I would have never have done those any of those horrid things if I encounter them as my human self…but I can't honestly promise that. I'm sorry ...I was monstrous, and bossy, and...and mad with power," He whispered, his head drooping in shame.

"Her name is Chell. You should say sorry." The turret said.

Wheatley looked up. "That was my lady's, I mean the lady's name? Chell?" Suddenly the turret's side arm opened and something golden was flying at his head. More out of defense and less from skill, Wheatley caught it. He turned it over in his hands. It was a compass.

"Her name is Chell. You should say sorry. Go West." The turret chirped. The lift doors closed just as suddenly as they had opened. Wheatley flattened himself against them, staring at the oracle turret.

"I promise, I'm going to apologize! I am! Thank you!" He cried. He thought he heard it say, "She misses you," but it was hard to tell over the whoosh of the lift. It had probably just been his wishful thinking.