Today was very tiring, but refreshing.

Chell was lounging on her bed, her body sprawled out, the bed stripped clean of its covers. She often liked to sleep on it without any filter from the wind. She was that type of person; up and front.

It's rather late; that man she almost killed twice, maybe, took an hour out of her planned schedule. Chell didn't really mind him. He was refreshing. Her bike breaking down made her even more behind. Even though she spent more time out in the sun than she had planned, she wasn't sleepy at all.

Chell listened to the gentle melody from her radio before slowly drifting off to dreamland. Hopefully. Chell ceased to have any dreams since she started working for Aperture—when she was sixteen. It was both a dream and a nightmare being there, and after three whole years, she couldn't decide which one was more appropriate for describing Aperture.

The lights were already off and she was all set and ready for a good night's sleep when the phone rung.

For a split second, she thought it may have been Wheatley before she picked up.

"Thank God," it was Caroline, sounding very anxious over the static. "Delaney, I know it's late, I'm sorry, but there's something wrong with Cave. No one else would pick up. You've got to get to the laboratories now—I can't do this myself."

"What happened?"

"He collapsed. I can't pull him up. It must be that toxic moon dust—I always knew there was something odd about it, but I couldn't bring myself to speak up…."

Slamming the receiver down, Chell put on a thin coat and some boots, grabbed the keys to Aperture, just barely remembering to lock the door before getting on her bike and pedalling as hard as she could down the road.

Wheatley didn't want to go home today. Last time he was there, he fell asleep on the couch and woke up in the shower; he still doesn't know why.

Luckily for him, the night was just the right temperature, with no rainclouds looming in the sky. Set with the fact that no one came by Aperture nowadays, he had a pretty good resting spot on the almost rotten bench obscured with some branches. Well, if no one had tired legs, that is.

His back was laid on the thick, beige coat he brought around often. It was suave, a soft material: perfect for sudden bedding. He had his glasses resting on his chest, rubbing his eyes; it had been a long day.

Then he heard a sound—a whirling sound. It sounded like sixty thousand bees coming his way. Wheatley sat up in alarm, putting his glasses on again; but he could then hear the metal clanking along the whirling, saving him from running as fast as he could away from the trees.

He spotted the bike right away. Immediately, he knew who it belonged to.

Chell was rushing too fast she didn't hear him call out her name. Once again, her bike got the dirt treatment as she ran into the facility.

Aperture looked dark in the full moon, in contrast with the white walls it presented in the clear day. The glass doors were still left open, with Caroline looking out them, holding an arrested look on her face. The moonlight made her seem to glow, since she was wearing her all too famous white dress this evening.

"I thought something had happened to you," Caroline said as soon Chell was in earshot. "The call just cut off—"

"Where's Mr Johnson?"

Caroline stepped back, shocked. Seldom her employees spoke over her. But this is Delaney, she thought, it's expected.

"I—In the office overlooking test chamber sixteen," she was saying, starting to lead Chell to where Cave Johnson was. "I pulled his wheelchair down there…but I wasn't strong enough to lift him up. He's just on the floor…."

And there he was, laid out on broken glass and droplets of conversion gel. His breathing was shallow, and Caroline looked away, feeling his pain too.

Chell immediately went to help, kneeling carefully on the broken glass, making sure that no conversion gel—or to her, gross sticky white stuff—got on her skin.

"Could you bring that to me?" Chell already heaved Cave up halfway, but was struggling keeping his wheelchair in place.

Caroline held it firmly, and Chell brought him there alone. She was a very strong girl, capable of being independent in almost every situation. Caroline brought him back to the decaying lobby as Chell carried his portable life support.

"Thank you," Caroline said as she locked all doors past the lobby. "He just wanted to see how the laboratory was going. I didn't reckon he was—" she stopped dead in the conversation. Chell was confused.

"What's—" Caroline brought her finger to her own lips, signalling silence to Chell. She had heard something rummaging behind the front desk.

There was a bottle of pepper spray she had with her always tucked in the pocket of her dress. She quickly brought it out, got into position, slowly inching closer to whatever was behind the counter.

Caroline had frequent attempts on her life. Being Aperture Science's best asset, she was a force to be reckoned with for all rivalling companies. Well, Aperture only had one rival, but it was an aggressive company, often taking huge risks to jump above Aperture.

There was another sound of clanking objects, and whoever was spying on them took their flashlight out first. Then their head.

Caroline aimed right between their eyes.

It was Wheatley, yelling that all too familiar scream of pain. His round glasses protected him from most of the spray, but a few droplets couldn't help but irate his eyes.

He started coughing as Chell and Caroline were both too stunned to do anything. Wheatley stumbled back a bit, trying to speak. "What—what was that—my face, it feels like it's on fire—what the heck was that, Chell?"

Chell.

Caroline felt her world slow down for a moment, only focusing on her. Chell. That was the name of her only child, the one that she left on a doorstep to keep her away from the horrible wrath of science about twenty years ago.

Caroline never took care to learn the first names of her employees. She felt guilty. If this Chell was her Chell, the Chell who was to be safe, far away from any of this, Caroline could laugh. Fate always treated her horribly.

Shaking out of her daze, she reassured herself that it was a pretty common name nowadays. Being a woman of science, she didn't have time for "Names of the Year" tabloids anymore. It's a common name, she told herself. Don't worry about it anymore.

But something was still nagging her, settled in the back of her mind.

Wheatley looked okay, for being exposed to pepper spray. Caroline had seen the affects of a full dosage emptied on one's face. Their eyes would swell up to the point of blindness, just thin buttons on a red face. They would not be able to breathe or speak for a few minutes. At the worst, he would be suffocated, dead by his own skin.

All he had was a slightly swollen right eye. In the dark, it didn't seem that there was anything wrong with him unless you were around a metre from him, just like Chell.

She was dabbing her jacket on his eye, telling him not to cry out in pain. "It's going to be all right," she said. Caroline felt a great rush of affection for her assistant. Chell was both very strong physically and emotionally—anyone would be lucky to meet her. Except Caroline wouldn't be lucky at all if she…No, it's not the time to think about this.

Wheatley's eye made him look like he just recently woke up. There were no more tears coming out, and Chell stopped assisting him. "It's best to not touch it after cleaning it up," she told him. Her hand was seated on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, but Caroline read too much into it.

"M—my apologies," Caroline stuttered. She felt protective of Chell in one way or another. "I am sorry. I had a stressful day, and not once I stopped to think that who ever was intruding would be so close to Delaney." She held out her hand, recovering her conscious.

Wheatley took it after a moment. His hand was calloused, rough against Caroline's soft skin. It was embarrassing—once he got his hand back, he automatically wiped it on his grey sweater, since in his rush he had forgotten to bring his jacket. It would be a miracle if he returned and it was still there, not inhabited by squirrels or blown away by the wind. Both he and Chell kept quiet, afraid of Caroline's new aura.

Caroline felt insulted. "Anyway," she started, forcing herself to go on, "You're…Wheat—Wheatley, correct? It's nice to see you have a…close bond with my assistant." I can't do this. I can't do this. "Take care of her."

Chell's eyes widened like saucers as she understood what Caroline was implying. "No—no, it's not like that. I just met him today. I ran over him twice."

"That's certainly…original."

The three of them felt small, even Caroline. Chell unconsciously moved away from Wheatley, her face sweating a bit. Caroline felt sorry for her. But for the third time today, she forced herself to look at the matter at hand.

"Mr Wheatley," Caroline said, regaining her air of poise, "even though you are a close friend of…Chell Delaney, there was no reason for you to trespass on property."

He opened his mouth to complain, but Chell had already come up with an alibi and spoke over him. "I was with him when you called me," she spoke rapidly, a complete difference from her usual airy self. "While I was rushing, I forgot…my…watch."

"Your watch?" Caroline raised an eyebrow.

Chell forced out a laugh. "You know how bad I am with time, heck, I took six minutes instead of five, back then hours ago."

Caroline did not understand anything she was saying, and just nodded, faking agreement.

"I'll vouch for him," Chell continued, changing the topic. "If you're gonna fine him for trespassing, just take it out my pay."

Wheatley was startled. "Chell, you don't have—"

"I wasn't going to charge him anyway," Caroline cut him off, grabbing the handles of Cave's wheelchair. "I'm not that kind of person. You're both dismissed. Thank you." She pushed him, struggling a bit, out the glass doors.

"I'm sorry—I," Wheatley started once Caroline was full out of earshot. He brought his hands to his face, seemingly to shield himself from whatever Chell had to say to him. "I saw you on your bike. Biking down here. You looked worried and I—I thought the worst. My fault. I'm sorry."

She didn't answer.

Wheatley sighed. I knew I wasn't destined to have any friends. "I know. I'll—I'll be taking my leave—"

Chell punched him in the shoulder.

It was meant to be a friendly punch, like all those surfer dudes on television did, but Wheatley was caught so off guard he stumbled over. His arms and legs were all out of place, and Chell was on the floor too, laughing loudly.

Wheatley couldn't help but laugh too. And they both were on the rough, dull carpet of Aperture Laboratories, holding their stomachs tightly, laughing their asses off.

Wheatley was panting quickly when he spoke again. "What—what time is it?"

"I don't know."

"You're supposed to be the one with the watch."

"You're supposed to be the one who brought it to me!" She hit him again, much more lightly than the time before.

Wheatley chuckled. It was genuine, but a laugh of exhaustion. "It's really late," he told Chell, looking through the entrance to see the moon. It was dipping under the horizon, and he could only tell from it's light. "You—you should sleep. Work tomorrow, right?"

Chell stared at her pyjama bottoms. "Yeah," she answered, her voice lowering.

"Don't—don't look so down," his tone was rising frantically and nervousness. "Sorry," he managed to get out, before taking a deep breath and standing up. "My fault, really. But you do need your sleep either way."

He let out a hand for her, and Chell took it naturally, as if it was something both of them did every day.

"It's okay," she wiped all the dust from her clothes. "You too—you know—sleep."

"Right."

"Yeah."

She hated this feeling—one moment they can feel like friends with a long history, but another moment passes and they're strangers passing by on the pavement again.

"I'll be going now," Chell forced out, lunging quite hastily for the door. "I can bike you home if you'd like."

Wheatley felt embarrassment. Chell shouldn't know that he spent half of his nights on a rotten bench. "No, no, no—No, that's okay. It's fine. Thank you."

She thought something was wrong, for him to suddenly outburst like that. But, for once in her life, she felt too scared to speak her mind.

She held the door out for him, and then locked the lobby. Maybe Caroline absconding made her forget about everything else. Understandable. Chell shrugged to herself.

"I—goodnight, Chell." Wheatley refused to meet her eyes. Staring down at his shoes, he slowly backed away from her. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, right?

"Goodnight. Are you sure you're going to be okay alone?" She had her bike out and ready now, straddling it.

All the tiredness of the situation suddenly hit Wheatley, and he felt exhausted. "Yeah—yeah, I'm pretty sure," he said, combing his hand through his hair to keep him awake. "Thanks—Thanks for everything, Chell."

"Bye, Wheatley." She started pedalling away from him.

"Bye," He replied. But she was already half way down the road, probably with something else on her mind.

Wheatley turned back to the rotten bench he often had made home. Luckily, there wasn't squirrels playing hide-and-seek in his jacket, and it didn't get blown away, leaving him uncomfortable the whole night.

Laying back down on the suave, he wondered if Chell would keep her word about tomorrow—and realised how great of a friend she was. To him, it was odd calling a girl you met by getting squashed by her bicycle's tires a friend, but he felt not calling her so would be an insult.

Chell was a very good person, just taking his fines in a heartbeat. He couldn't repay her for what she had done for him this entire day, but maybe, he could settle the debt just a little bit tomorrow.