Wheatley awoke to the sound of a plonkdownstairs. Groggily, he turned to the alarm clock. The harsh red digits read 2:37 AM. He quickly noticed the empty space beside him and scrambled for his glasses.
Oh no. Ohhhh no. She had found them. She had found them and now She was going to take his wife away from him, from this life that they had built. He began mentally preparing himself for the confrontation- would it be turrets? Or maybe those testing droids? Or maybe both? Maybe She had detached from the mainframe and somehow inserted Herself into a droid? Just the thought of seeing Her again made him walk faster. His feet nearly tripped over themselves as he flew onto the ground floor.
Like a turret scrambling to fire, he examined the living room. No signs of a struggle. He made his way to the office, ready to strike anything that would get in the way of-
Chell slouched on top of her desk, in a sleep as deep as Space Core's love for the cosmos. A single desk lamp illuminated the back of her head. The front was buried in the leather bound notebook he had gotten her for their anniversary. She had this habit- which was pretty cute, actually, when it wasn't making his blood pressure increase exponentially -of staying up late and falling asleep while writing.
"Chell?" He nudged her. Still asleep. It looked like he might be carrying her up the stairs tonight. After checking to make sure she still had a pulse- after what they had been through, you could never be too careful- he slung her left arm over his shoulders and hoisted her up, catching the underside of her knees with his right arm and her torso with his left. A page of the notebook clung to her cheek before falling.
As he prepared to climb the stairs, her voice- unmistakable even under the veil of sleepiness -broke the silence.
"Thank you."
"No problem, dear." He paused. "Although, sometimes, I would appreciate if you didn't stay up until the ungodly hours of the night."
Her soft chuckle nearly blended with the air.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead."