Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Portal/Portal 2 does not belong to me, and neither do the characters. Instead, that all belongs to the game's respective owners. However, I would not mind hanging out with Wheatley for a bit. (:

Summary: It is two hundred years after the unfortunate events at the Aperture Laboratories. And nearly eight hundred years since his banishment into deep space. With plenty of time to think over his injustice, Wheatley wants to apologize. On the verge of completely giving up and abandoning the idea ( due to utter irritation ), what does he do when the opportunity to right his wrongs comes knocking? After so long, what does he finally decide to say? (Rated T because I'm paranoid)

I hope that you enjoy!

"Spaaaacee!" Cried a high-pitched voice, which cracked as the word extended beyond its natural capacity. The sound grew louder the closer that it neared him and he struggled to reach the stray core.

"Oh for the love of- would you hold still, mate!" Wheatley pleaded, his own accented voice clearly coated in irritation. They had been at this for hours, and yet had they been able to make up any ground. With sparking circuits, the damaged sphere took another look behind him; only to gasp. "O-Oh dear. That's not good, not good at all!"

There it was again! "Woo-hoo! Spaaaaacee!"

Wheatley felt himself jerk forward, hoping to come within reach. Unfortunately, his hopes were denied and it seemed as if the last of the patience that fate seemed to have with him vanished. And he could not help but groan rather loud in exasperation. How hard was it to just sit -

CLANG!

The battered machine's optic snapped shut as a yelp of surprise escaped. Once again, he could feel himself rapidly spinning, and, if he were human - for sure - his latest meal would be launching itself from his throat. Finally stopping, after too long of a moment, Wheatley shook himself; "Oh, yeah, I'm getting real sick of all this bloody spinning, most definitely." He stopped. "Now would ya' look at that!"

Somehow, that collision with the space core - although, most involuntarily - had caused him to get even closer to one of the Earth's satellites! Wheatley nearly fell over with relief; he was not going to miss it after all. 'Now, if only I can get close enough to,' he trailed off, sensors beeping loudly with a sudden burst of cleverness.

Wheatley turned back around, for probably the twentieth time in that same hour. "Hey, buddy, do you mind doing that-that- whatever ya' did again? One more time, maybe? Please?" He gestured to the oblivious satellite's bulky, metal form. "It would be a great pleasure if you did, just one more time. Bang into me so I can get over there, to that big metal, spinning-thing. I need to bell a mate."

To his very surprise, the yellow-tinted optic of the second core swiveled around to meet his equally bright one. A confused glance was also shot his way; unsure of what was supposed to happen. And a single world, which was nearly driving Wheatley insane, slipped forth, "space?"

Wheatley rolled his eye in a wide arch. "Yes, yes, space, this has to deal with space. Now, if you want to stay in space, be my guest, but I need to get over there. But, if I don't, than something very, truly bad will happen; something truly awful." The 'more advanced' machine explained, suddenly coming up with another idea. "If I don't get over there then-then space will," he gasped, "explode!"

And just like he planned, the space obsessed core recoiled in utter fright. Yellow eye shrinking into a much smaller size, Wheatley watched as it started to shake. Then, a loud exclaim filled the empty, dark span of space; "Nooooo!"

"Then bloody hit me! So I can save space!" Wheatley, equally loud, shouted. He was just about fed up with this bloody machine! "Do it now! I don't have any bloody time to wa- ow!"

BANG!

"Yes, ow, right. Ow, that did hurt, a lot," Wheatley mumbled, just about to shoot a nasty look at the second sphere; which was now huffing out of pure anger. "Oh, wow, man. Mate, don't you look a bit angry. No, a lot, actually."

Suddenly appearing next to him, the space core growled; seemingly to transform into an entirely different entity. "Save space, now."

And that was just the right motivation Wheatley needed.

"O-Okay, wow. Yes, I will get right on it. Saving space," he mumbled, focusing, now, all of his attention on the motionless satellite. "Getting right on it. Lots of buttons, let's see here. How 'bout this one, right here?"

There was a sharp bing; the normally soft sound seeming to echo around them; and the long since untouched machine hummed to life. The machine's computer was the next thing to come online, a quick flash of white light announcing its arrival. Numbers appeared, followed closely by many letters - all jumbled together to form a complicated code.

Systems online.

Wheatley whistled. "Fancy,"

Model Alpha-Delta 9.0 is ready to continue. Voice authorization is required.

At this Wheatley nearly short-circuited. 'Voice authorization' - how was he supposed to do that? It was not like he knew this machine's engineers. In an action that was similar to clearing one's throat, he finally said, "The name's Wheatley, mate. Personality core, I am. Best one tha' you'll ever-"

Mimicking the robot's accent, the satellite announced, name Wheatley not authorized. Prepare for complete computer shut down, in one minute.

The two brightly lit cores started to panic, their resolve over the years rapidly turning into dust. Optics widening, they began to shout rushed nonsense; hoping that their newest companion would be of accepting. "Ahh!" The space core yelped.

"Alright! Alright! Don't panic! Don't panic, there's no need to panic!" Wheatley reasoned, his own voice climbing to new, higher octaves. "A-Aha! Found something! N-NA-NASA." He sounded out, the red, flashing light on the satellite's monitor being ignored as it continued to count down. "What kind of name is that, NASA? Who exactly does this bloody, stupid machine belong to an-?"

Underneath the initials was a bold phrase. United States of America.

"Bloody brilliant." Wheatley mumbled, suddenly growing annoyed. "Americans - those bloody idiots! Now we'll never figure out what the password is! It could be anything! Anything at all! For all we know, it could be panther spelled backwards!"

Password accepted. Canceling computer shut down.

The space core blinked; "Whoa,"

Ready to continue. Enter coordinates.

"Oh, wow, bloody lucky we are! What do you think, mate?" Wheatley wondered aloud, only to keep his one-eyed gaze on the revolving satellite. "Okay, here we go. Aperture Laboratories. Do you know where that is? I do hope so, because I want to go there. I do, actually, really badly."

Coordinates accepted. Aperture Laboratories. Is this location correct?

"Yes! Yes, it is!" Wheatley cheered, completely forgetting about the intense look that was being sent his way by his other companion. Another soft bing was heard before the screen was altered, moving at a fast pace towards his voiced location. He took a breath, 'well, I guess it's now or never.'

Error. Coordinates too far to travel. Cannot continue with procedure.

And then it was all completely shattered. The well-deserving robot's hopes were destroyed.

Just like that. In a way that so unbelievably easy.

Wait. Really?

A/N: Well, how was it? It was dreadful, absolutely so, wasn't it?

I know that this is no excuse, but, I have been having a terrible case of writer's block. And, only now, is my brain starting to come back online - creatively, at least. So, I'm sorry that it's so choppy and..stuff. I'm still a bit rusty. I certainly hope that it goes away soon, though. I do hate it, quite actually. /: Oh, and I, also, apologize for how short this one is. Deeply sorry.

Anyways, I hope that the first part of this two-shot is worthy enough of your oh-so-lovely reviews! If you catch anything that should be of fixing, please let me know! (Which is probably everything..)

Aaand..I'm done talking..now. Right now.

Actually, I lied! Whoops - sorry 'bout that! See that button right down there? If you click it, I will give you a cookie! Wait, no, how about a donut, huh? (: Go ahead! Click. It.

Until next time, ¡Adiós!