As she pulled into her familiar parking space outside the familiar building, Caroline felt a peculiar mix of relief and trepidation. Seeing the facility again felt like coming home—but she wasn't out of the woods yet. She could only hope her boss would listen to what she had to say. Mr. Johnson, I made a terrible mistake. Aperture is where I belong. I'd like to come back, sir. I'm begging to come back.

He would be completely justified if he didn't hear her out. She had been the one to leave, after all. It was her mistake. But… she missed him enough to swallow her pride. Maybe he missed her enough to forgive.

Please, please take me back.

She half-crept down the empty hallways of the Enrichment Center, careful that her clicking heels made as little noise as possible, and beyond thankful he hadn't thought to take her keys. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene—but this late at night, the place was deserted. Except for one person.

I love you. I'm sorry. Please.

At last she reached her destination. The outer office felt as comfortable as her own bedroom—and as if it had been her bedroom, she immediately noticed that her things had been touched. Stray pens and pencils littered her desk, her paper tray was much too close to empty, and the cord of her phone was tangled as if someone had been playing with it. Apprehensively, she took a peek into her file cabinet—but the damage there was minimal. She let out a sigh of relief. It looked like her replacement had merely skimmed her files, decided not to tamper with her system, and instead stuffed all the new paperwork into one large folder in the back of the bottom drawer. Messy and unprofessional, but nothing she couldn't fix after taking her job back from this shoddy temp.

At least, she hoped it was a temp. He couldn't possibly have replaced her so quickly, or with someone so inept. He wouldn't stand for it. She wouldn't stand for it. As soon as she was reinstated, she'd teach whoever this fill-in was a little lesson in proper filing. Resisting the urge to straighten out her things now, she tugged at her dress and tried to smooth out her nerves. No matter how confident she tried to be, the thought wouldn't stop nagging at the back of her mind: What if he doesn't want me back?

He will.

But what if he doesn't?

She felt her worries threatening to overwhelm her, and quickly quashed them. She wasn't backing down now. It was time to go home. As her fingers settled on the doorknob, a fragment of an old quote replaced the fear. If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it's yours.

It made her feel oddly peaceful. She smiled—Well, Mr. Johnson, I guess I'm your girl after all—and pushed open the door.

The man slumped at the desk was barely Cave Johnson. He lay inert on a stack of papers, broad shoulders collapsed, arms folded over his head as if blocking out the world. She'd never seen him look so hopeless. At the sound of the door opening he raised his head just slightly, letting her glimpse unkempt hair and a scruff of unshaven stubble. Seeing her boss degenerate to this pitiful mess in barely a week made a lump rise to her throat. She stepped into the room.

He blinked hazily, not looking at the door. "Hell, Gina, I thought I told you to go home—"

"Mr. Johnson?"

He stiffened as if struck by lightning. The eyes that met hers were bloodshot, and his face was blotchy, but she smelled no trace of alcohol on his breath. If she didn't know better, she'd say he'd been crying. His mouth dropped open as if to speak, but he only managed to gape for a moment before swallowing and trying again. "You… you came back."

Relief flooded warm through her veins. "I came back."

It took him a while to simply process what he was seeing—his girl, his Caroline, standing just where she'd stood one awful week ago, smiling softly like an answered prayer. He'd never been a religious man, but hell if she didn't look like an angel.

Until Wolfe's insidious voice murmured in his head: Quite a woman, isn't she?

As she watched, the incredulous light in his face snuffed out.

Her smile faltered—but she wouldn't let it stop her. Again she stepped determinedly forward. "Sir, I—"

"So how d'you like sucking cock at Black Mesa?"

"…What?"

Her voice was a whisper of shock. Suddenly the hope of reconciliation felt cold in her stomach. The man staring back at her looked unforgiving and cruel.

He glowered up from the desk, jaw clenched, eyes hard. "Heard about your new friends, kiddo. How many of 'em have you fucked so far? Going straight to the top, or working your way up slow?"

"Mr. Johnson—"

"You tramp. You goddamn tramp. Pranced off to Black Mesa like this place meant nothing." His words were sharp with bitterness—she flinched as they cut into her like knives. "Bet they're better than ol' Cave ever was, right? They're better at a lotta things. America's Number One Science Company." An ugly sneer contorted his features as he rose to his feet and advanced on her. "Bet you couldn't wait for a piece of that, after all these years working for second best. You were itching to jump ship. How much did they offer you to sell me out?"

"Mr. Johnson!"

"C'mon, what was it?" he goaded cruelly. "Double your salary? Triple? Or just the chance to get away from your rotten old boss?" He looked like an animal baring his teeth with that sneer. "Oh, you must've hated it here, with a second-best reputation and a dirty old man like me breathing down your neck. Did it feel good to get rid of Cave Johnson? The crazy old nutcase?"

"Sir, don't say that—"

"I guess you'd rather take it from your new bosses, huh?" His tone was approaching a yell. "Do the Black Mesa boys fuck better than me?"

"What are you talking about?" Her voice hitched up an octave in pain, and she stumbled back, eyes wide.

He surged forward and grabbed her by the upper arm, yanking her to within an inch of his face. He was livid with rage, eyes blazing, expression twisted in a snarl. A vein in his forehead throbbed. "Don't try that on me," he spat. "Your buddy came by to kiss and tell."

"Wh—"

"Your pal Wolfe. Don't play dumb. He dropped in today. Said you had a nice conversation."

"He—what?" She choked on sudden panic.

"I thought you were different, you goddamn tramp. I thought you were mine."

His rough growl was thick with the pain of betrayal. She heard it, and felt her heart break for him. "Oh, sir—"

"You always had your eye on someone else, you cheating little traitor—"

"Whatever he told you, it wasn't true—"

"I thought this place meant something to you!", that's

She felt tears sting her eyes. "It does, Mr. Johnson—god, it does—"

"You think you can lie to me?" he roared. "I know what you did!"

"I—"

As his grip on her clenched tighter, his free hand snatched something from his desk. He brandished it like damning evidence. "You left this in his hotel room."

It stopped her cold. Her scarf. It was her lost scarf, the one that Wolfe had ripped from her throat. She couldn't breathe. She knew what he was thinking—and she was terrified.

"Why—"

"H-he lied—"

"—were you taking your clothes off—"

"I didn't touch him—"

"—IN HIS HOTEL ROOM?"

"We only talked!"

"YOU GODDAMN LIAR!"

He threw down the scarf and jerked her close again, pain shooting through her arm as his fingers crushed her in their grip. She whimpered pleadingly, "I didn't do anything, I didn't—"

"Did you have fun with that Black Mesa bastard?" he seethed through gritted teeth. "Nice change from your old boss, huh?"

"Mr. Johnson—"

"A crazy old man doing second-rate science. No wonder you were so damn keen to leave."

"Sir—"

"You always wanted to worm your way to the top, didn't you?" he snarled. "You had this planned right from the beginning. Hop into bed with me, steal my secrets, and then use 'em to get what you were really aiming for." His frame shook with pent-up anger. "It was always Black Mesa. It was never me. You used me and you used my company so you could get in good with them, you backstabbing bitch—"

"No—"

"You never gave a damn about Aperture Science!"

"That is not true!" She bristled. Suddenly hot with indignation, her back stiffened, and she looked him straight in the eye. "I have been nothing but loyal to this company—"

"Oh, like hell—"

"—and if you think for one minute that I would betray you—"

"Like hell—"

"—you've got another damn thing coming!"

"Yeah? What about when you were FUCKING A BLACK MESA REP LAST NIGHT?"

"I did not have sex with Richard Wolfe, and I did not sell you out!"

"YOU LYING WHORE!"

He shoved her away, and she stumbled, catching herself clumsily as she hit the wall. The word knocked the wind out of her more than the impact. It left a moment of silence in its wake, hanging breathless and irrevocable between them. She'd heard the word before—but never from him.

Something snapped.

As she looked up at her boss, her face hardened into an impassive mask. The eyes that met his were stony and cold.

"Get the hell out," he growled. "Get the hell out, and don't even think about coming back."

He expected her to cower. She didn't. Drawing herself up tall, almost his height in her heels, she fixed him with a frigid stare. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson." The once loving words cut him to the bone.

She turned her back to him, crossed the short distance to the door, and shut it with a sharp snap behind her.

Her footsteps clicked quickly through the halls—walking, not running—not bothering to be quiet. She kept up her pace until she was safely in her car. Once behind the wheel, she allowed only a moment for her heartbeat to steady. A single hitching breath let tears slip out—but businesslike fingers brushed them from her cheeks. No more crying. Not for him.

Her voice was soft but steady as she whispered, "Goodbye, sir."

She drove into the night without looking back.

.

"Superior Suites? I'm looking for Mr. Wolfe. Is he still in residence…? Room 203… Wonderful, thank you."

Her fingers tapped impatiently against the receiver. A moment passed while the front desk put her through—a moment longer as the phone rang in his room—and then a voice answered, "Hello?"

"Mr. Wolfe… Richard. This is Caroline. I've had a change of heart." Her words were firm and resolute. "I'm not Cave Johnson's girl anymore."

If it doesn't come back, it was never yours at all.