Wheatley didn't know what to do.
Chell always forgave him—he had a streak of dumb decisions—but this time, he didn't even know how to begin telling her what happened.
The house was gone with no hope of it ever coming back.
It happened like this; when Chell decided she needed some pampering, she left with a few words and a grateful kiss at Wheatley's eager approval. Neither of them needed to remind the other that it was their anniversary, and Wheatley wanted to surprise Chell with a romantic dinner.
He'd had good intentions! He began to make her favorite dinner—spaghetti and meatballs with cheese-filled garlic bread sticks—and decided he was going to make her a chocolate cake. That bloody cake GLaDOS had never rewarded her with would never be forgotten again, Wheatley promised himself. He would make Chell plenty of cake to make up for the loss of it at the facility, and to begin making up for all the mistakes he'd made there.
He was preparing to put the cake in the over when Chell called briefly to tell him she'd be home in an hour or so and not to burn the house down. Wheatley chuckled as they hung up. Burn the house down. Had she forgotten who he was?
Well, obviously not. Wheatley lit several small candles and made a romantic setting for dinner at the table. The cake was baking and the spaghetti and garlic bread sticks were nearly done. Everything was going swimmingly, so he decided to sit down on the couch and charge.
Wheatley had plans. Wheatley had big plans. He was going to propose. Tonight. Chell and him had been together for a full two years and he decided that it was time to take that next step. He dozed on the couch, dreaming about the possibilities.
The fire alarm woke him up and before he had even opened his eyes, he was coughing and choking on the smoke. Heat nearly burnt his face as sweat dotted his body. Dear lord, how long had he been asleep? Wheatley unplugged himself and made a mad dash for the door, hesitating before running back into the insanity to grab Chell's ring.
He had barely made it outside when he watched the house collapse and within ten minutes, the flames had engulfed and destroyed what was left. Wheatley's eyes filled with tears as he contemplated what Chell might do. He had messed up BIG this time. How could he be so bloody stupid? He had almost no hope that Chell would still say yes to him, if she even stayed with him. He'd be lucky if she ever spoke for him again. He realized that he may never be gifted with her voice again. He didn't know what to do.
So, he hopelessly sat on the sidewalk and watched his future burn and turn to ash before him. As he stared, he wondered when Chell would be arriving. Hadn't an hour already passed?
That was when Wheatley noticed Chell's red car was parked right on the side of the street by the mailbox. He saw it with his own eyes, but it hadn't registered. He peered inside and noted that Chell was nowhere to be found. Where was she? His anxiety was building and a heart-wrenching thought struck him. She was inside. She had to be! He was so confused and afraid, but suddenly he was bashed with a driving force.
"Chell? Love! Are you in there?!" Wheatley's voice held back no terror and grew quite loud. He ran to the house of flames and began to pull at the charred pieces. Though it was hot on his hands and the smoke burnt his throat, he continued digging through while he pleaded with fate that she was okay. Tears grew more and more fierce while he tore through the still burning bits-of-house.
"Chell! Love, please be okay…" His false hope was useless and as he tore through the rubble, he saw a hint of orange cloth. He ran to it and picked the rubble off to find his Chell, burnt and charmed and covered in blood. Her hair clung to her face from sweat.
She wasn't breathing.
"Oh no." Wheatley covered his face, breathless. The tears stopped abruptly as shock filled his circuits. He couldn't function properly. "Chell." He picked her up and pulled her mangled body closer to him, laying her head carefully on his lap. He peeled the hair off her face and wiped the sweat and rubble off. Her face, luckily, had taken no damage. She was just as beautiful as ever, but more peaceful.
"No. Chell. No no. No, you've been so strong and cunning. How the hell did a house fire—" He couldn't bring himself to finish the statement.
He began to cry again and touched her cheek softly. No. This couldn't be happening. Not to Chell. Not like this. No!
Wheatley screamed and sat upright on the couch. His breath was ragged and he was confused. He looked around the inside of the undamaged house. He glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. He was asleep for ten minutes. He could smell the cake, no doubt finished, and he jumped off the couch, his cord coming unplugged. Bloody hell, it was only a dream.
He was shaking as he took the cake out of the oven. Adrenaline pumped through him as he noted that the spaghetti and bread sticks were done as well. Wheatley took several deep breaths to calm himself. It was just a dream, he told himself. Chell was okay. She was okay and the house was fine and still standing and everything was okay.
The cake cooled down enough for him to frost it and add the little whipped cream globs with red candies in each one. Traditionally, the red candies were supposed to be cherries as they were at the facility, but he knew Chell hated cherries.
Just as Wheatley had set the table and put the food out, the front door opened and Chell walked in. Her orange dress hugged her in all the right places and fanned down at her hips, reaching just above her knees. Her dark brown hair was down today and it curled all the way down to her chest. Her gray eyes were wide with curiosity as she took in the scene, and she looked to him for the answer to her silent question.
"Well, Love, surprise! It's our… you know, our anniversary, and… and all that… And I was trying to… to make it special and do something… special." A blush covered his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his head.
Chell smiled and her eyes sparkled. She walked over to him and looked up at him, waiting for him to explain more.
"Oh, uh… you don't… uhm, wow. Well." His blush darkened. "I made your favorite, spaghetti and meatballs with cheese-filled garlic bread sticks. And, and afterward I thought that maybe we should have a special dessert, a cake—"
Chell stopped him by planting a kiss on Wheatley's lips and his tension melted away. He closed his eyes and kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her.
She had NO idea how good it made him feel to know she was safe, in his arms, not dead in a house fire…