Disclaimer - I sadly do not own Portal or any of its characters, but I like to bring them out to play sometimes.

A/N: This story came about when I decided to explore the concept of Chell and Doug knowing each other prior to GLaDOS's activation. The way Doug speaks about her in Lab Rat makes me think that they probably don't, however it's a fun idea to play around with here.

I've tried to make this story as canon-compliant as possible, but Valve are purposely vague about their timeline! Everyone has their own ideas about when things take place in the Portal and Half-life universe; this is my version. The dates are mostly to show the passage of time, however, so if they don't match up with your version of events please feel free to ignore!

I've been working on illustrations for this story, which will be posted on my Deviant Art page. Check out the link in my profile :) Illustrations will be posted along with the relevant chapters to avoid spoilers.

I want to say a massive thank you to my friend Tiffany for being my American editor and making sure that nobody sounds too British (with the exception of Wheatley, obviously) :D

1993.
The Mystery of the Vanishing Brit.

Chell didn't like Caroline.

It was a decision she'd reached at the age of eight and nothing would sway her from it. She'd thought it carefully through, and she had more than one reason for her dislike, making it a well-rounded opinion. In her limited experience, that was how adults reached decisions, and she was pleased that she'd mastered it already.

Objectively speaking, it was no real fault of Caroline's that Chell didn't like her, although the young girl was hardly the only one who felt that way. Caroline was a textbook example of single-minded corporate success, beginning with boundless enthusiasm in the 1950s, bypassing the distractions of the 60s, to her taking over the company in the 80s. Keeping her inherited venture afloat through dire financial troubles turned warmth to cold efficiency. She had no time to worry about whether she was liked, just as long as science got done and bills got paid. Outstanding bills hindered the flow of development, halting the progress of science, and she never stood for that. Caroline was a businesswoman and a scientist, and she had little time to be anything else. That was what made her so good at her job.

From Chell's rather unique point of view, Caroline was the matriarch of Aperture Science Laboratories, the proud mother watching over her offspring. So what if her offspring was a sprawling underground fortress of scientific achievement. It made no difference to the way she treated the place. Chell had no time for mother-figures. She'd had two walk out on her. She didn't trust them. Her birth mother had given her up when she was three days old, then, years later, her adopted mother had left too. Caroline reminded Chell of a mother, and so she disliked her.

Secondly, Caroline was her dad's boss, and was therefore the reason why Chell saw more of babysitters during the week than she did of her father. She disliked her for that too. Thirdly, on the few occasions that she had visited her dad's work place, Caroline had almost completely ignored her. On the off chance that she did acknowledge Chell's presence, the stern-featured CEO never remembered who she was.

Chell did not like Caroline.

That said, she did enjoy the rare visits to Aperture. Her dad's work place was mysterious and exciting. The insanely long elevator ride always felt like it was taking her down into the lair of a James Bond villain. Several times she half expected to be greeted by the sight of Caroline in a big office chair, stroking a fluffy Persian cat and speaking in a peculiar accent. That had never happened, of course. Caroline was probably far too busy to sit around stroking cats. Chell had never known what her job entailed, but she gathered it involved a lot of important striding around and shouting at people.

And then, out of the blue, she was gone. Chell's dad stopped talking about her, and Chell hadn't seen her when she'd visited. When she questioned her dad about the grey-haired woman's absence, he'd hesitated and said, "Promotion."

The satisfactory answer and the finality of her dad's tone had led her to only one conclusion: she could happily forget all about Caroline. So she did.

Two years after that, a sitter cancellation after school saw Chell on her way down into the depths of Aperture to wait for her dad to finish work.

After several months of confusion, Caroline had finally been replaced by a man called Lazarus Grey. Chell didn't much like him either. He was too self-important, and nowhere near as impressive as his fancy name seemed to promise. As the elevator reached the floor of her dad's department, Chell kept her eyes peeled for Lazarus's short, dumpy figure. Although he never minded her being there, (provided she stayed in low-clearance areas), she preferred to avoid him where possible. He was puffed-up and irritating, and always spoke to her in a patronising way that made her feel like a toddler. She was ten years old, not stupid. It baffled her that grown-ups got confused over that fact, especially considering that they'd once been ten too.

She was so busy watching out for Lazarus that she walked headlong into someone else, a rather annoyed someone who dropped their clipboard and muttered a word that Chell wasn't allowed to use. Only her shock kept her from emitting a nervous giggle. Instead, she leapt back, staring at him in silence.

"Aren't you going to say sorry?" he snapped, gazing in dismay at the jumbled-up papers scattered across the corridor. "You weren't looking where you were going."

"You bumped into me too," Chell said defensively. "That means you weren't either."

The stranger looked somewhat surprised to be talked back to. "What?"

Chell's indignation fizzled out in the face of his astonishment. "I mean…sorry," she backpedalled. Her dad wouldn't like it if she was rude, and she was in no mood to be grounded.

The young man frowned at her, but it wasn't an angry frown, simply a curious, slightly irritated one. She wasn't intimidated by him. He was dressed like a scientist, but he wasn't one. He was too young, and his lab coat didn't fit his skinny frame properly. She guessed he was only a few years older than her, in his late teens at the very most.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she blurted out.

He blinked at her, taken aback. "Why am I dressed in a lab coat in a science lab?" he said slowly, part sarcastic, part patronising, all annoying.

Chell huffed, folding her arms. "You're not a scientist," she pointed out. "You're just a kid."

"I'm eighteen," he fired back indignantly.

She continued to wait for an answer while he scooped up his fallen papers. She debated helping him, but he'd finished before she could reach a decision.

"If you must know," he said eventually, rising to his feet, "I'm here on a student placement."

Chell wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What's that?"

He drew himself up self-importantly. "Like an internship, but more casual. I'm still in college, but Aperture gave a few of us the opportunity to work a couple months here to see what it's really like. If we do well, the company might employ us when we graduate, but that won't be for a while."

As he spoke, Chell recalled her dad mentioning something about college students, and how Aperture couldn't be bothered to organise the proper paperwork for official interns. A kind of work experience was much easier all round, and still might result in new recruits for the company. Chell didn't understand the ins and outs of it, only that Aperture was, once again, not doing things by the book.

"So you're going to work here?" she asked him, suddenly regretting her attitude, hoping it wouldn't get back to her dad.

"Maybe," the boy said with a shrug. "I'll see how things go. But what about you? You're obviously not a student. How did you get down here?"

"Elevator," Chell mumbled, irritated with his superior tones.

Just like the boys at school, she reflected idly.

He glanced briefly at the ceiling and sighed. "I meant how did you get past reception?"

"Joanie knows me," she explained reluctantly." I'm here to see my dad."

"Who's your dad?"

He asked a lot of questions. She wasn't sure she liked that.

"Simon. In the Robotics division," she answered politely.

She saw a flicker of recognition change his expression. "You're Chell," he said. It wasn't a question for once.

"Yes," she confirmed, lifting her chin. "Who are you?"

"I'm Doug," he told her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Hopper or Rattmann?"

"Rattmann," he replied.

"Oh..." She scuffed the toe of her shoe on the carpet. "Well...good."

Her dad had never liked Doug Hopper. He called him a preening sycophant. Chell didn't know what that meant, but she had immediately decided that she never wanted to be called it herself.

A brief smile crossed Doug Rattmann's face, as if he wondered what she'd been told. She didn't enlighten him. It was sheer chance that she'd heard his name before. He was one of only two of the college students who had any real potential, according to her dad.

"Be more careful when you're turning corners, okay?" he told her.

She nodded, biting her tongue against a cheeky "You too".

Shouldering her school bag, she continued on her way. After a few minutes, she realised he was following her. Trying not to smile, she turned and addressed him. "You're lost, aren't you?"

He looked at her moodily, clutching his clipboard to his chest. "What? Of course not."

"You are," she challenged. "You're following me. Before, you were going the other way."

Doug gave a sigh, looking an interesting mixture of defeated and embarrassed. He probably didn't like being confronted by a girl, she decided.

"Okay," he said finally. "I'm meant to be in Robotics this afternoon. I've only been here two weeks, I haven't learned where everything is."

"Why didn't you just say?" Chell asked. "I know the way."

"I…should have. Sorry."

She beamed at him. She wasn't used to adults apologising to her. Even though he barely qualified, she would take it.

"S'okay. Come on."

They walked the corridors in silence, Chell confidently leading, Doug hunching his shoulders, as if he preferred not to be seen taking directions from a ten-year-old. Within twelve minutes they had reached the lab her dad shared with two of his co-workers.

"Hi, Dad," she greeted as they walked in.

At her words, her father glanced up. "Hi, honey," he replied with a weary smile. He was looking tired. There were splashes of oil marring the brightness of his lab coat. His russet hair was starting to turn salt-and-pepper, and faint lines at the corners of his eyes were beginning to look more pronounced. Chell hadn't noticed it before today, but he was looking older, more stressed, and there was less of a sparkle in his dark eyes.

"Rattmann," he added, his voice a stern bark, "you're late."

Doug straightened up. "Yes. Sorry, sir. I…er….was…."

"I fell over," Chell spoke up. "My stuff spilled everywhere. Doug helped me pick it all up."

Her dad peered at them both. Chell wasn't sure if he believed her or not.

"Were you hurt?" he asked after a pause.

"No."

Another long pause followed. Then her dad gave a nod. "Good. Rattmann, go next door to the store room and get files 1138 and 1139."

Doug nodded and did as he was told. Chell perched herself on a tall stool, leaning her elbows on the work bench.

"So…exactly how lost was he?" her dad asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Chell's eyes widened in surprise, then she grinned. "Completely! He was going totally the wrong way."

He chuckled briefly. "It was kind of you to cover for him, but don't make a habit of lying like that, okay?"

"Does it still count if you caught me?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"Yes. In fact, I'd say it counts more."

She frowned. "Oh."

"What homework have you got?"

Chell pulled a face. "Science and math."

"Why the long face?" he asked, tapping her on the nose. "You're good at both of those."

"But I don't like them," she declared dramatically.

"We all have to do things we don't like," he said, his expression unsympathetic. "It's part of growing up."

"Can I not, then?" Chell muttered stubbornly.

Her dad laughed. "Go ahead. You'll save me a fortune on clothes if you stop growing."

Doug returned to the room, the box files under his arm. "Found them, sir."

"I have a meeting to go to," her dad told him. "Every month Robotics meets with Artificial Intelligence, since we often work closely together. It's authorised personnel only, I'm afraid, and I can't let you do anything practical without someone supervising you. So I want you to take a look at the notes in these files and see if you can come up with any ideas to solve the problems we've run up against."

"Okay," Doug said with a nod, eyeing the box files. "Are they cancelled projects?"

"Not if you come up with solutions! I've got to run. See you later. You," he pointed at Chell, "homework."

She rolled her eyes, but dragged her books out of her bag.

Her dad headed for the door through to the conference room, where his colleagues were gathered. Then he snapped his fingers and turned.

"Oh, I'm expecting someone. An employee. I've forgotten his name but he's tall, British and wears glasses. When he turns up, send him through."

"No problem," Doug assured.

Her dad disappeared into the conference room, the door closing firmly behind him. Chell exchanged a glance with Doug, then they both got to work. Fifteen minutes in, she had almost completed her math homework, and glanced up to see how her companion was doing. Doug was looking very solemn, frowning down at the pages in the files as if they were personally ruining his afternoon. He was an odd-looking boy, awkward and serious, yet coupled with the cockiness that every teenager possessed. He had a thick mop of untidy black hair, and curiously mismatched blue eyes. His face was beginning to lose its childish roundness, and his nose looked as if it needed growing into. The girls at school insisted that teenage boys were handsome, (always chattering about this TV star and that boy band member), but this one certainly wasn't. Chell, in all her ten-year-old wisdom, was beginning to think that the girls at school didn't really know what they were talking about.

The sound of running footsteps cut through her reflections, and Doug glanced up from his work. A tall, lanky man skidded to a halt just inside the door, his glasses slipping to the end of his nose. He was panting hard, trying to untangle a pen from his I.D. lanyard without much success. He jabbed his glasses into place with a finger, then sent Chell a grin.

"Hello," he said brightly. "You're a bit young to be working here, aren't you?"

She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, so she smiled politely and said nothing.

"I know I'm late, right," he went on, "but just how late are we talking? I mean, can I blame it on pedestrian traffic or, or, or..." He halted and switched track. "How long has the meeting been going on? Do...do you know? Does either of you know? Because I'm supposed to... You know the junction, right? Down the corridor there? You can turn left or right, and this office is to the right? Only went left, didn't I! Don't want to blow my chances, so I don't, um, don't exactly want to admit that I got lost. Seems a bit, y'know, unprofessional and what have you."

"The meeting's being going on for about fifteen minutes," Doug told him when he paused for breath. "They said you could go straight in."

"Right. Right...Right-o. Thanks, mate. Just...going to go on through this door then. Nothing to be nervous about. Just a performance review. I've done it before, I'll do it again. Do it lots of times, probably."

Chell glanced at Doug. He raised an eyebrow at her and she tried not to giggle. The British man was a panic attack waiting to happen.

"Okay," he said resolutely. "I'm ready."

Without looking back, he knocked tentatively on the conference room door, then entered the meeting.

"That was weird," declared Chell.

"Very," Doug agreed.

Silence settled over the lab once more. Chell finished her math and started on the science. Despite the appropriate surroundings, she found herself struggling with it, feeling the time drag the grumpier she got. She huffed, sending loose strands of hair flying away from her face, and let her forehead sink down onto the page with a quiet thunk.

She sat like that for a few moments, then heard Doug say calmly, "I'm pretty sure absorbing knowledge like that doesn't actually work."

"How do you know?" she demanded sulkily.

"Because I've tried."

"When?" she asked, lifting her head.

He put down the page he was reading, frowning as he considered. "Two weeks ago," he stated eventually.

"What happened?"

"My girlfriend laughed at me and I didn't learn anything."

Chell pulled a face, but found nothing to say.

Doug got up from his seat and walked around the table to look over her shoulder. "What are you stuck on?" Although his intervention was kind, the tone of his voice implied that he was quite pleased to flaunt some of his knowledge.

Chell explained, gesturing to the question with the end of her pencil. Doug read it swiftly, then pointed her in the right direction without giving away the answer.

"Can't you just tell me?" she whined in exasperation.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't learn if I do that," he said imperiously.

She fixed him with a glare and was irritated to see him holding back a smile.

"You're really annoying," she stated.

"Yep," he replied, unruffled. "Until you figure out the answer. Then you'll like me."

He returned to his problem-solving looking decidedly smug. Chell reluctantly turned back to her textbook, not wanting to take his advice on principle, but desperately wanting to finish her homework. The two sides of her fought it out for a few minutes before she backed down. She read through the question again, keeping Doug's pointers in mind. In a single victorious move, everything fell into place in her brain, the solution fitting neatly into the picture with a satisfying click, like closing the door on a room recently tidied. She scribbled it down at once.

"Told you," Doug said, his tone distinctly complacent.

"I still don't like you, though," she shot back, but she couldn't help grinning at him.

She raced through the rest in record time, then sat in silent triumph, doodling cats on her school bag. The backpack was already covered in fading grey lines where she'd scribbled previous cartoony animals.

"Why cats?" Doug asked, apparently easily distracted as he tried to think something through.

Chell shrugged. "I like cats. They're smart and cute and they can take care of themselves. With dogs you have to do everything for them. That's why Dad says I can't have one. But cats are good too."

"Did you ever hear about Schrödinger's Cat?"

"Shrow...ding...what?"

"Schrödinger's Cat," he elaborated, rhythmically tapping his pen against the work bench. "It's an experiment, kind of. A thought experiment to make us think about reality."

Chell rested her chin on her hand, eyeing him sceptically. "Why would I want to think about that? I'm in reality."

"But what you perceive as reality might be different to what someone else does."

"What's that got to do with a cat?"

He shifted in his seat, straightening up as he prepared to explain. "Okay. A cat goes into a box with a container of poison. The box is sealed for one hour. The container might break and poison the cat, or it might not. There's no way of knowing while the box is sealed, so theoretically the cat is both dead and alive at the same time."

"It can't be," Chell argued. "It has to be one or the other."

"But we don't know which if the box is sealed." His eyes were bright, his voice more animated than it had been so far. He was very enthusiastic about science, Chell noted.

"So just look inside," she said slowly, wondering why he hadn't thought of that before. Perhaps all that science had clouded his common sense.

"After the hour is up, you look inside," he told her. "Then it becomes one or the other. One reality or another."

"So they count it as both because they don't know for sure?" she asked.

"Basically, yes. It's a lot more complex, obviously, but–"

"Why can't they just say that they don't know?" she interrupted, frowning. "Why do they have to get all complicated and drag reality into it and stuff?"

Doug stared at her for a long moment and she realised he had no answer. She tried not to smile smugly.

"Because..." he began lamely.

The slam of the conference room door made them both jump as it swung open and hit the wall. The bespectacled British man hurtled out, followed by Chell's dad and two of his co-workers. One of them swiftly moved to block the door to the main corridor.

"No, no, no, no!" the British man was yelling. "You can't make me! It's insane, mate! No way."

"Calm down," her dad said, his voice authoritative. "You're getting carried away."

"Too bloody right, I am! By you lot! I'm not doing it!"

"Think it through," his colleague said smoothly. "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Once in a lifetime. Is that meant to be funny?" the British man snapped, jabbing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "I have thought it through, and I'm leaving. Right now."

Her dad reached out a hand, placing it on the man's arm. He jerked away immediately.

"Get off!"

In a calm voice, her dad suggested, "Come back into the conference room and we can discuss this rationally and in private."

The British man scoffed. "Yeah, we all know why you want to discuss it in private. You don't want anyone to know, do you? What about the politics?"

One of the co-workers, Sarah, frowned. "Politics?"

The British man considered briefly. "No...the other one. Ethics, that's it. What about the bloody ethics, eh? Have you thought about that?"

"We have the full cooperation of Lazarus Grey," her dad told him. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Oh really?" the Brit said with heavy sarcasm, hands on his hips. "So why aren't you doing it then?"

Chell's dad attempted an encouraging smile. "Because none of us are qualified like you. We need you, your skill set. Your talent for...saying the right things."

"Flattery isn't persuasive, you know. You've not properly tested it, have you?" the British man yelled, tracing a wonky oval on the floor with his erratic pacing. "It's, it's a prototype piece of technology and you want to just...just throw someone's personality in there willy nilly–"

Her dad held up his hands, cutting him off. "Okay, look. Nobody is going to make you do anything. All we want is for you to come back into the meeting and discuss all the aspects of it. If you're still against it by then...well, we'll be disappointed, but we'll just find someone else. Okay?"

"I'm not going to change my mind," the British man declared, halting his pacing and folding his arms.

"Finish hearing us out anyway."

It was not a suggestion, but an order. Chell didn't much like the hard, cold edge to her dad's voice.

The British man's shoulders slumped. "All right. But it won't make any difference, I'm telling you that now."

With visible reluctance, he stomped back into the conference room. Chell saw her dad exchange a glance with his co-workers. She didn't know what the look was supposed to mean, but she instinctively didn't like it. Like the coldness in his voice, it didn't suit him and didn't bear any relation to the man she knew. He sent her a glance as he headed back, and she stared at him with wide eyes, hoping for a reassuring smile. She didn't get one. He was a stranger.

When they had the lab to themselves again, she and Doug exchanged concerned, confused looks. They didn't talk about it. Doug went back to his file notes and Chell tried to read a book. The words kept swirling in front of her and she couldn't concentrate. Something about the conversation she'd witnessed spooked her, triggered by some warning instinct that she wasn't yet old enough to fully understand. Doug's silence indicated that he was troubled too. He was nearly grown up, she thought. If he was disturbed by it, then her instinct was right.

She flinched when the conference room door opened again an hour later, letting out a steady stream of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence staff members. Her dad strode out last, smiling. All traces of aloofness were gone. So, it seemed, was the British man. The conference room was quiet.

"Good news, we've settled on a date for Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. It will be in three weeks, on Friday." He rested a hand on Chell's shoulder. "You'll come and make a potato battery, won't you?"

"I already made one in school," she answered, her voice quiet.

"Then you'll know what to do. Come on, let's get you home. Rattmann, you can go too. Report to me in the morning, provided you can find your way here without my daughter's help."

Doug's expression would have been amusing if Chell had been in a laughing mood. His mouth opened, but no words came out of it.

"Yes, sir," he managed eventually.

Chell hopped down off her stool and picked up her bag. Her dad gathered his things while Doug tidied his work into neat piles. The three of them walked the corridors to the elevator in silence. The doors closed, and they found themselves on their way up to the world above.

Chell stared at the wall ahead of her, it's outdated, grey surface blurring before her eyes. All she could think about were snippets of the conversation she'd heard, the British man's utter panic.

'It's insane, mate!...it's a prototype piece of technology and you want to just...just throw someone's personality in there.'

She couldn't see how that was possible, and concluded that she must have misunderstood. Chell was a clever child who was fully aware of how little she knew about her dad's work. She didn't want to make snap judgments about things she didn't understand, but her intuition was already racing ahead of her rational thoughts, making her uneasy and apprehensive. She desperately wanted a comforting, simple explanation that would vanish her fears, but that strange, frosty edge to her dad's countenance made her think twice about seeking one.

In her peripheral vision, Doug made a sudden movement, drawing her out of her thoughts. As she turned towards him, his whole posture stiffened and his eyes grew wide.

"No," he muttered, a note of alarm in his voice. "What is that?"

"What?" her dad said, sounding confused.

"Can you hear that? The...shouting… Didn't you hear it?"

He looked at them each in turn, and both Chell and her dad shook their heads. Her dad eyed him warily.

"That's the second time this week that this has happened, by all accounts. Are you feeling okay? Are you getting enough sleep?"

Doug hesitated, then shook his head. "Maybe not. I've been working hard. I'll..."

He paused again, and Chell had the distinct impression that he was hearing something else. She frowned and watched him swallow hard, his hands gripping the railing that lined the sides of the elevator.

"I'll make sure I get an early night," he finished eventually.

"Good idea," said her dad, clasping his hands behind his back. When the elevator reached the top, he strode out first, barking his goodbye on his way out of the front door, car keys already in hand.

Chell halted a few steps out of the elevator, pivoting to look back at the student. He had turned a shade paler, his expression worried. Despite her young age, she could tell it was a worry he was used to and tired of, a worry that plagued him and made him look older than his years.

"Not again," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He glanced at her, surprised. "I'm fine. Thanks."

She shrugged, accepting his answer but unsure if she believed it. "Thanks for the help," she said, shifting her bag's weight onto the other shoulder.

A small, forced smile found its way onto his face. "Likewise."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm thanking you for your help too."

"Oh. You're welcome."

"Chell!" her dad hollered, unlocking the car.

Forgetting a farewell, she ran over, diving into the backseat as he started the engine. The vehicle pulled away from the Aperture parking lot and Chell slumped in her seat, her mind already turning over everything she had seen that afternoon and what it meant. She knew – although she didn't yet understand – that it meant something.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. This is going to be a long ride!