Wheatley knew it was coming. He had lost his vocal processor and hearing a long time ago. His vision was so faded he could only see the contrast of light and dark, not that there was anything he wanted to see anyway.

Everything hurt. His wires were frayed and his poles broken, he knew. There was always a sharp pain in the diodes down his left side. He opened his optic plates about half an inch, the limit he could open them, and after a minute or so could see enough to tell him he was on the dark side of the moon.

A memory file suddenly began to play automatically, yet another clue that it was fast approching. In the memory, Space was malfuntioning badly and short circuting, fast aproching the moon.

That was all that was in the file. Most of his memories were corupted, but he deleted as many as he could to prolong it from happening. He would have looked for Space, but he was having trouble simply seeing the moon, let alone the empty shell of a core!

He tried to sigh before remembering that he couldn't, and felt a stab of pain before his vision blanked out completely. He closed his optic plates with a grating pain, and knew that he would be unable to open them again, another clue of the approach of it.

The only thing he had was his processor, his brain, but he tried to not think hard so as to not damage it. Another memory file began to play. "I AM NOT! A! MORON!", and then there was the itch, the death traps, fire, bombs, voices in his head, gel, that portal gun firing, and he was in space and the moon and earth and

Wheatley pulled himself out of the memory, feeling his processor begin to overheat badly. He wondered why he was trying so hard to stay alive. A memory file then popped up, one that was now his only reason to try to stay alive.

He had to do it. That was the one thing he had to do before it came. Why don't you just give up?, said a voice that sounded like Her. Voices in his head. Another clue.

Wheatley thought, I...I have to...tell the lady...that...that... As his processor trailed off, he suddenly felt something he had not felt in a long time. It was warmth.

Wheatley wondered if he was falling into the sun. He wanted to see it, or hear it, or scream, but he couldn't. Suddenly, the warmth felt stronger on his sides, and his pain began to disappear.

He opened his optic plates, slowly at first, then quickly when he realized he could. In front of him was the lady, but different than when he last saw her.

She didn't have the portal gun, or the orange jumpsuit that all the test subjects wore. But that wasn't the most suprising thing. She seemed to be made of pure light, and the robe she was wearing looked liked it was made of moonlight and sunlight.

"What is it you what to tell me?", she asked. Wheatley was stunned. She had never spoken before, yes, and he lost his hearing a long time ago yes, but her voice was perfect and beutiful, better than he ever imagined it would sound like, and he was stunned.

"I-" His vocal processor was fixed! " I wanted to say..." Wheatley thought of all his rehersing, planning, and practicing. He worried about what to say and how to say it.

Now it was clear about what he had to do. "I'm sorry." Wheatley's optic twitched downward in shame, unable to look at her.

"I forgive you."

Wheatley was so shocked he looked back up at the lady, only to see her smile and turn to leave. "Wait! Where are you going?", Wheatley called out to her. She smiled back at him and said,

"You'll find out." And then there was a flash of bright light. And suddenly there was warmth.

He looked around and saw Space happily jabbering about space. He looked around quickly, trying to find the one who he wanted to see the most.

Then, he turned. And she was there. And everything was good and happy.