It hurt.

Everything bloody hurt.

And Wheatley couldn't do anything. He couldn't move. He couldn't open his shutter. He couldn't even say anything. He was thrashing in his own mind, trying to wake up from this nightmare of an operation or whatever She was doing to him.

Then the pain just... stopped.

He still felt tingly all over, but he no longer felt like screaming.

"Transfer complete. Waking subject..."

Air hissed. Light bombarded his optic, which shouldn't be possible because it was closed.

"Oh, you've done it, haven't you?" he moaned. Wheatley felt a little bubble of relief from hearing his own voice. But the fact he had to breathe felt so wrong, yet it also felt so natural.

It was confusing.

"Subject, please remove yourself from the stasis pod, or you will be forcefully ejected."

Trouble there, though, he had no idea how to work a human body. Opening his eyes was similar enough to opening his optics, but anything else was a mystery. He tried to lift an arm and immediately gave up the attempt. How did humans live if their limbs were as heavy as lead? And the lady, she seemed to move so easily! She had been jumping and whipping her portal gun everywhere without any sign of fatigue. Or at least, he didn't think she seemed to get tired.

While he pondered the mysteries of how she could've done such a task, the pod tilted to the side. With a yelp, he hit the floor, entangled in blankets. The pillow fell on top of him.

"Subject ejected."

That was uncalled for.

"Look at you, lying on the floor," She said, voice dripping with contempt. "Do you have any idea how dirty those tiles are? No one's cleaned them for over twenty years."

That, admittedly, sounded very gross. But he wasn't doing it on purpose, it was just very hard to move limbs that didn't exist before, thank you very much.

"After you're done rolling in filth, head to the elevator down the hall. It will take you to the first test chamber. Try not to contaminate anything on the way there."

As quickly as it came, Her message ended. The buzz of the lights filled the new silence, and it was rather eerie (how had he never realized how creepy it sounded?). He wanted to get that sound out of his head as soon as he could. And besides, the faster he was out of the room, the less She'd try to something extra to punish him.

With a great effort, Wheatley lifted his head up. The door was still open, which was good. He doubted he could've opened it, hacking or otherwise. There wasn't much of the hallway he could see from here. It didn't seem a pleasant idea, hauling himself along the floor.

He attempted to stand up by using the stasis pod as support. His hands, slow and sweating and fumbling, couldn't get a grip on the slippery sides and slid right off the glass.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, "new plan. Crawling it is."

He feebly kicked off whatever bit of the blanket that still clung to him and began dragging himself along the floor. It was slow, and it used a lot of his energy, and the floor was bloody cold, but it was progress. As he reached the doorframe, he felt a little thrill of pride. Dragging oneself a meter was an impressive feat, right? And the hallway, it couldn't be a few more meters long.

As he pulled his head past the door, though, Wheatley's heart fell. The hallway stretched on for much longer than he anticipated. It was hard to tell just how long it was from his position and state of vision (why did everything seem so blurred?), but it was clear that it was much longer than a few yards.

He stopped, exhausted physically from hauling himself the short distance and mentally from seeing the daunting distance ahead. Giving up seemed a nice option. He wouldn't have to move any further. He could just relax as much as he could under the circumstances- at least until She comes back with punishments to inflict on him. She could kill him much easier while he was in this state. And it didn't sound too bad- humans die really easily, don't they?

She didn't.

You threw bombs at her, trapped the stalemate, and she still survived. She went through so much more than you, and she came out alive. Now look at yourself. You're sniveling on a dirty floor. What have you done so far? What have you done that was so hard, you just gave up?

And you told yourself you'd find her so you can apologize. Aren't you going to fulfill that? Or is it just another empty statement you made?

It really bothered him that his internal voice sounded like Her, but it was still right. He had a lady to find, and the journey was definitely going to take more than a hundred meters.

Wheatley began to painstakingly drag himself down the hallway.

It took a ridiculously long time, but after many breaks, he made it to the elevator. His arms felt heavy, yet limp. Like big lead noodles.

Yeah. That comparison seemed right.

Despite the accomplishment, he found he had a new problem; he had to stand up to use the elevator. It even had a sticker on its glass that said, "We are not responsible for any amputations caused from misuse. Please stand in elevator. Do not lie on the floor."

He had no idea what amputation was, but he had a feeling he didn't want to find out.

Wheatley reached for a bar-thing mounted on the wall. His fingers barely brushed against it before his arm gave out.

"C'mon, Wheatley... you just need to scoot over, just a bit." If anything, talking to himself seemed weirder than before. But it was encouraging, so he kept at it. "Just a bit from- yes, that's right. You got it, Wheatley. You can do this."

He reached for the bar again and grabbed it. For a moment, he stared at his hand was a mix of shock and awe. He was holding onto something!

"That's... really good! Now, you got to..." With his other hand, he grabbed the bar. Having both hands there made his spine curve awkwardly, but it didn't seem to be harming him.

"Would you look at that!" he exclaimed to no one in particular. "You've got both hands on! Now you just need to get onto your feet. Shouldn't be a problem- humans have to do it all the time, right? They get out of bed- well, actually, I've never seen one get out of bed, they were always in it, or out of it, or being a bloody skeleton in the bed. But they have to be able to get up, right? They always started in bed..."

He pulled himself up a bit. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to more-or-less tuck his legs under him. With some more shifting, he was properly able to place his feet on the ground..

"This is bit like her crouching, isn't it? And all she did was bend her legs... so you just need to... straighten them... to stand."

Carefully, carefully, he straightened his legs, always using the bar as a support. Before he knew it, bam! He was standing!

It was exciting, to stand up for the first time. Yes, his feet were both pointed inward, which didn't seem at all normal. And he was wobbling.

But he was standing! With standing would come walking, and running, and jumping, and all those wonderful ways of movement humans had. But first- the elevator.

Wheatley lifted one hand off the bar. Without its support, he came dangerously close to falling, but he managed to keep himself steady. He shuffled a bit to face the entrance of the elevator and just lunged for it.

To his pleasant surprise, he hit the glass at the back of the elevator. Wheatley pressed his hands against the sides to stabilize himself.

The elevator doors slid shut behind him and began its descent.

"Wonderful," She sniped. "You made it. I wasn't aware anyone could blabber to himself so much. But now I know. I'll keep it in mind."

That killed his mood fairly quickly.