A/N: Those of you who are familiar with my other stories might be thinking, "You are not seriously starting a fourth story, are you?" The short answer is… yes. But hear me out! This story is only going to have three chapters and possibly an epilogue because it doesn't really have a clear, well-defined end to it, but rather merely intends to convey a single, important moment in time that serves as the beginning for a much bigger story – a story I have no intention of writing but each of you can imagine in your own head if you wish, the story of life.
This story is the second Portal fanfic I ever came up with, the first one after Close to the Edge. It was my attempt to come up with an idea for something very simple that I could make into a one-shot. However, once the story started to form in my head, it quickly became apparent dividing it into three chapters would be most logical. I started writing the first chapter on my laptop well over a year ago one afternoon when I was away from home. I got about a third of it done, but didn't come back to it until now when I found myself having some problems with the chapter I'm currently working on and wanted to take some time off from it working on something else, so that I could then return to it with a (hopefully) new, fresh perspective.
This fic isn't unfortunately high on my priority list, so don't expect the other chapters to come out with any sort of regularity. The next one might appear a month from now, or six months from now; it all depends on when I feel like setting some time aside for finishing this story.
As always, if you feel like leaving some feedback and telling what you think, it is much appreciated but naturally entirely up to your own discretion. I will let you get to the story now.
It's past midnight and I'm walking through the streets of yet another city left crippled by several centuries of Combine oppression. That's what I've been told at least. I wasn't exactly around to see any of it, so all I know is based on things others have told me and a great deal of that information comes from stories that have been passed down from person to person for several generations, making their accuracy questionable to say the least. Not that the past really matters to me that much, but at least it explains why most of the streets, save for the very center of the city, are always so quiet at night.
My apartment is located near the outskirts of town and most of the buildings in the area are completely empty, even ones that are in good enough shape to be habitable. Humanity's fight for freedom had been long and bloody, leaving the population of Earth just a shadow of its former six billion. Nobody actually knows what the current total is, but judging from the state of the formerly great cities now turned into ghost towns, mankind has a long road ahead of it before things start to look like the turn of the millennium again. I personally rather like the peace and quiet, and that's one of the reasons why I spend pretty much all of my evenings strolling around the city.
Naturally a woman walking alone at night tends to attract the attention of the lowlives of society from time to time, but I know how to look after myself. Just earlier tonight I was approached by a shady guy who appeared in front of me from one of the almost pitch black alleys. He smelled worse than the garbage cans he'd been hiding behind and it was obvious what he wanted even before he opened his mouth, which smelled even worse than the thick odor floating around him. I've seen plenty of his kind in the past, and much worse. Whatever it was he had to say didn't interest me and before he could finish his second sentence the impact of my right foot meeting his crotch at high velocity managed to interrupt him and fill the air with his loud screams instead. I didn't really like the cries the man who had fallen to his knees was using to pollute the area within an at least two-block radius, but that issue was resolved quite nicely when my knee got acquainted with his disgusting face.
I'd left the guy curled up on the walkway and carried on going my merry way. Just as I was about to pass the man I noticed a knife lying next to him. Somehow I had managed to fail to notice that the shady character had been armed, although I wouldn't have changed my approach even if I had seen the blade; it would take more than that to scare me. A gun or a group of guys would definitely have made me rethink my strategy, but a lone knifeman barely even registers on my radar as a potential threat. I've faced situations in the past where a quick escape was the only rational option, but thanks to the fact that I'm a good runner and quite acrobatic, I've never been in any serious danger. Besides, every time I arrive in a new city it's typically enough that I teach a couple of fellows to leave this missy alone during her nightly walks before word gets around and all the robbers and perverts in the neighborhood know better than to mess with me.
Of course I'm not taking the small risk of getting mugged every time I leave my apartment after sunset just to get some fresh air. What I'm interested in is to slowly but steadily map out every part of the city I'm occupying at the time to form a better picture of my surroundings in an attempt to aid me in finding what I've been looking for over two years now. Or at least that's how I started out, but nowadays it's more of a habit and an attempt to escape the boredom of my daily life. But most importantly I'm looking for a chance to get drunk! Every night a different bar, that's my goal. If I don't find one, I usually wait till the next night and if that one if fruitless as well I'm forced to settle for the one that's closest to where ever my stroll happens to have taken me.
My life hadn't been boring at first because there was so much for me to learn about living on the surface after I escaped from Aperture, but without an education no one was willing to hire me for a job that paid more than peanuts, even though I am more capable than most of the employees currently working in the companies I applied to. When I tried to tell this to the ones interviewing me their usual response was to either laugh at me or remove me from the building when I lost my temper. And I used to get mad quite easily in the beginning. After hearing the same complaints about my behavior from numerous different people I finally made it a goal for myself to learn to grow more tolerant of the people around me and also to start controlling my own emotional responses better. Well, it wasn't actually the verbal comments that I got, but rather the three consecutive times I got thrown out of a small town I'd arrived to, that encouraged me to try to get along with people better.
When I finally accepted the fact that I wasn't going to get a job that required any kind of intellectual skills, I found myself working in restaurants and stores serving customers and later in simple office buildings taking care of the dullest forms of paperwork imaginable. Any hopes of getting a promotion were made futile by the fact that I keep moving from one city to another every couple of months. But quite quickly I came to realize that I don't actually have any use for the extra money I could be making in a better job because I live in the smallest and least expensive apartments I can find, and have close to no material possessions apart from my more than modest collection of necessary clothes for different occasions and a couple of bags for transporting them when I switch apartments.
Being forced to endure the repetitive nature of my work assignments day after day combined with the fact that all my search efforts have turned out nothing useful, has slowly gnawed my morale over the months and lately I've found myself moving through life void of purpose. I don't really get along with people very well, but I've always felt content being alone so that has never been an issue for me. However lately I haven't been able to avoid wondering what purpose is there to my existence. Nothing I do affects anyone's life in any meaningful way and whether I exist or not hardly makes a difference. As the days, weeks and months pass by, every moment seems less meaningful than the previous, and slowly the world has started to lose any color it once might have had. For all this time among these people I've been searching for something, but I think I might've already lost hope of ever finding what I'm looking for somewhere along the road. The people I pass on the street are all starting to look faceless to me, so many countless faces have I seen over my time outside the underground research facility. Why do I keep doing this? Because I'm afraid to give up my search and move on? No. Because there is no other meaning to my existence beside my search.
As I'm wallowing in my gloomy thoughts, a blinking neon sign catches my attention from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to the side and to my joy spot precisely the thing I was looking for: a club, one I haven't visited before. Without a second thought I begin descending the stairs down to the entrance. As I slowly open the old thick wooden door the familiar smell of cigarettes and alcohol greets me and I can't help but laugh to myself at the irony that the counter at an unfamiliar bar is where I feel most at home these days. Oh how far my life has sunk. Not that it matters to anyone but me. With a purposeful stride I make my way over to the bar and take a seat. I catch the bartender's eye and he walks over to me.
"What can I get you on this fine evening, Miss?"
"Vodka shot. No, make it two."
"Now, now. How about I give you one drink for now and we can talk about a second after you are finished with that, young lady."
I give the sturdy man probably the most intense, cold stare he has gotten in his life which he obviously wasn't expecting and has no hope of matching. I watch all of his confidence slowly dissipate under my unyielding glare and without a word he places two glasses on the table and fills them to the brim. I hand him a single bill and tell him to keep the change; I have no use for money beyond paying my rent and getting wasted anyway. The man gives me a quick look from which I can tell I have already earned some respect in his eyes, but then immediately turns away to serve his other customers, afraid that I disprove of him looking at me. I laugh and down the first shot in one go. Men. They think they are so tough.
I glance at my second drink but decide to let it wait for a moment longer. Leisurely I turn in my seat and let my eyes wander around the room. The place is neither a high-class establishment nor is it an intolerable hellhole. The decor is reasonably tasteful and traditional in its mostly wooden furnishing, although there are some modern touches as well. Most importantly, the thing that often makes many clubs unbearable places to try to spend any kind of extended period of time in – obnoxiously loud music – isn't thankfully an issue here. The PA system is playing a deep and sensual house track at a fairly low level that seems perfect for creating the right kind of mood. Despite the moderate volume the incredibly deep, full-bodied soothing bass can clearly be heard. The steady pulsation is very comforting and really helps put my mind at ease for a while. I am happy to have stumbled across this slightly secluded place.
Since it is a Friday evening quite a lot of people have found their way here, even though the club is slightly outside the heart of the city and in a more quiet part of town. Some people are dancing on the dance floor to the slow, primitively seductive beat and I'm not sure whether I want to join them or blow half of my week's earnings at this bar downing more drinks than the bartender has probably ever seen a girl pour down her throat over the course of a single evening. I must say that the prospect of drinking till my mind goes numb and I am temporarily freed of all my insecurities and inhibitions does sound very attractive.
I smile to myself and let my gaze travel around the rest of the room while I weigh my options in my head. Then suddenly I'm pulled from my thoughts as my eyes think they saw something. I carefully survey the scene in front of me but can't detect anything of interest. Concluding it must've been nothing, I am about to return to my second shot when my eyes drift over the booth closest to the bathrooms. Unable to believe what I think I just saw I have to do a double take, then a triple take. Rubbing my eyes to see if they are playing tricks on me, I stare at the person sitting with their back to the way leading to the restrooms with my mouth hanging open. It can't be her.
But it is. There is no question about it. That face is the one I could never fail to recognize; it is simply impossible. Feeling rejuvenated and more alive than I've felt in over two years, I stand up from my seat and take a few steps towards the bathrooms, almost as if in a trance. The bartender calls to me and asks if I'm not going to finish my second shot. I tell him he can drink it himself or give it to a customer, I don't care. With my eyes fixed on the table I continue walking, trying not to draw anyone's gaze, especially not hers. If she sees me out of the blue like this she is going to freak out, no question about it. I need to be careful.
The lighting in here is kind of dim and I can only see the side of her face, but she seems to have changed surprisingly little from when I last saw her. She's probably a bit healthier and she has obviously dressed up a bit for this evening and put some makeup on, but apart from that she doesn't look that different from how I remember her. She still even has that ponytail.
She is sitting at the table with a man. Reasonably handsome, but nothing special. Personally I wouldn't have bothered with someone like him, but hey, who am I to tell anyone who they should date? Fortunately the bar area is situated about a foot lower than the dance floor and the tables surrounding it, with a couple of steps in between. In addition the booths have quite high seats, so I manage to slip past the table the two are sitting at without much trouble. To avoid raising suspicion, I enter the ladies' room and spend a couple of minutes there before coming back out.
I lean right against their booth and pretend to look like I'm waiting for a friend who went to the bathroom. Straining my ears I am happy to find that I am able to listen into their conversation with relative ease. It doesn't take me long to be able to tell that the two have only met tonight at this club. The guy talks quite a lot and is obviously very interested in his female company. He on the other hand clearly doesn't realize it himself, but a woman like myself is able to tell from small little things that his feelings are not reciprocated. It doesn't surprise me when after listening to their conversation for a few minutes the girl pretends to get a phone call and tells the guy she has to go take it outside. What incredible luck I had, she was just about to leave!
I'm extremely nervous when the girl descends the couple of steps and passes only a couple of meters in front of me, but luckily she doesn't even think about looking back. I wait for her to get halfway across the way to the front door before I start moving after her. When right before the exit she slips the cell phone she has been holding in her hand the whole time casually into her jeans' pocket, I am not the least bit surprised.
I manage to slip out of the door right before it closes and with light steps I ascend the stairs after the girl as quietly as I can. Once we are on the street it becomes easier to trail her while keeping my distance and staying in the shadows. Since it is already past two a.m. there aren't all that many people out on the street, which is both good and bad. Good, because I don't have to worry about anyone noticing I'm secretly following this girl. Bad, because there is hardly any noise to mask my footsteps so I have to be extra cautious. Despite how anxious I am about not being spotted, oh how excited I am as well! I can hardly contain my excitement. I thought this day would never come, and now that it has, I can only wonder if I'm simply dreaming. Never in the past two years have I been even half this happy after just one drink!
When my target finally enters an apartment building I feel like yelling out in victory. But I of course restrain myself and stop to stand on a nearby street corner. A minute later I observe a light come on on the second floor and wonder what I should do. Too excited to wait till morning, I go to the front door. To my slight displeasure it is equipped with a keypad, but the four numbers that have been used the most are worn and it doesn't take me many tries to find the correct combination. How pathetic.
In the entrance hall I take a look at the list of tenants and smile as I spot the name I have been aching to know for over two years. There are only two apartments per floor in this rather modest-sized building, so deducing that the married couple living in 2B isn't who I'm looking for wasn't a very difficult conclusion to make. No, the single girl living in 2A, she's the one.
As I start slowly climbing the old wooden staircase I do my best to try to contain my zest. So long I have waited for this moment; I can hardly believe it is finally here. Finally I am atop the squeaky stairs and find myself standing in front of apartment 2A. The name on the door reads: Carla Jenkins. I take a deep breath and knock on the door.
I found her.
My search is finally over.