A/N: This chapter was powered by peppermint tea :)

To my guest reviewer: Thank you :) I love Raintalker's art so much! With regards to Doug's mirror scene, it's kind of ambiguous how much of it is from his condition and how much is just him stressing about his feelings. He's medicated, remember, but I wanted to put across the idea that it's not always as effective as he'd like, especially when he's under pressure. If he was off the medication, then yes, he'd definitely be dealing with doubts and taunts from the voices.

Chapter Four – The Apology.

Nine days after Chell had made her ill-fated escape attempt, she found herself rebelling again, but unlike before, it was totally by accident. The tests were going well, but they were the most challenging she'd ever faced, requiring every scrap of her concentration. A slight slip caused her to boost off the wall at the wrong angle, sending her drifting far closer to the guarding turret than she'd intended. Before it could fire at her, she swung her right arm, hitting it with the portal device. The gun sparked, tightening on her arm, sending a few tiny pieces of debris floating away. The turret announced a critical error and shut itself down. She glanced at the device, cringing as it sparked again.

"I think you've just declared a break," came Rattmann's voice over the speakers. "I'm turning the gravity on."

Chell nodded, bracing herself.

The voice of the A.I. announcer filled the room. "Gravity active in three, two, one."

She felt her weight shift, and she dropped like a stone, landing safely as the boots absorbed the shock. The door at the end of the room slid open, and Rattmann entered, clutching his folder of notes and looking slightly stressed. The pieces from the device had landed nearby, and he crouched down, picking them all up. Chell felt an absurd instinct to help him, which she immediately quashed.

"I suppose I don't need to tell you that that was against the rules?" he said conversationally.

She shook her head, shrugging.

"I know. It was you or it. I understand. But my superior probably won't."

Chell pulled a face, indicating how much she didn't care about his superior's opinion. He didn't look up, but she got the impression he knew what she was doing. That suspicion was confirmed by his next comment.

"You can stand there and glare at my back all you want, I'm not the one who designed these tests."

'No,' she thought, 'but you are the one making me solve them.'

He finished gathering the pieces and straightened up. "Come on. I need to get that thing off your arm and fix it before anyone notices."

She raised her brows in surprise, but then remembered what his superior had said about him taking responsibility for her actions. He was probably protecting himself more than her. Still, it was a positive side effect.

"They're just going to think you did it on purpose," he went on.

She'd figured that out herself.

"And they'll probably yell at me too."

That caught her off guard. She tried not to let it show.

They crossed the room to the exit, taking a back route through to the equipment room. The attendant was absent, and Chell guessed that Rattmann must have already dismissed him. She pulled off her left glove with her teeth, and held out her right arm. He frowned, examining the device, and she wondered how much damage she'd caused. She didn't much care, but she was curious. He struggled with the clasps for a while before unexpectedly bursting into laughter. Chell gawked at him, concerned that he'd finally descended into insanity.

"It's stuck," he told her between sniggers. "It won't come off."

She resisted the urge to swipe at him, unable to see what was so amusing about it. The damn thing had dug itself into her arm, and it was beginning to hurt.

"I'm sorry!" he went on, the meaning of the words getting lost. "It's just...only you. Nobody else could have gotten themselves into this situation."

Chell frowned slightly, detecting a hint of something that sounded like pride in his voice. It confused her. He met her gaze, trying to control his laughter without a huge amount of success. She felt the corners of her lips twitch against her will. She was struck by the way his amusement transformed his face. The hard lines fell away, his eyes shone brighter, the dark circles becoming less noticeable, making him seem younger, more approachable. If she had been feeling brutally honest, she would have admitted that she kind of liked it.

"Okay," he said, pausing to make sure he was suitably serious. "I'm going to have to sneak you into the lab."

Incredulous, she raised a sarcastic eyebrow, gesturing to the bright orange on her jumpsuit.

"I know, I know, but I don't have any other option."

She held up her free hand, indicating, 'Fine, whatever.'

"Just keep your head down and follow me."

After shedding her long fall boots, she did as he instructed, trying not to appear too inquisitive as he led her through a part of the facility she'd never seen before. They didn't meet many people, and those they did were too wrapped up in their own business to notice her. A blue-optic core eyed her curiously as it zipped past on the overhead management rail, but said nothing about her presence there. Finally, they reached the door they needed. Rattmann swiped his I.D. card, and they left the corridor. He locked the door behind them, just in case.

The room was small and brightly lit. Its dazzling, sterile white walls were such a contrast to the corridors that Chell had to take a few moments for her eyes to adjust. There was an angled drawing board, and a workbench, scattered with tools, and various bits and pieces. The walls were dotted with helpful warning signs, as well as one or two bizarre motivational posters.

'Is grinding up moon rocks too expensive?' asked one. 'Why not just go to the moon?' Underneath was a disturbing image of the moon, sporting a face with two portals in place of eyes.

'Know your allergens,' stated another. 'Pollen. Animal dander. Plastics. Anti-Matter.'

Chell wrinkled her nose and turned away.

"I know," said Rattmann, taking in her expression. "We're obliged to put those up. Take a seat." He gestured to a tall stool by the side of the workbench.

She hopped up onto it, resting her right arm on the chipped wooden surface. The footrest was cold against her bare feet, but then everything here was cold. Rattmann flicked on a desk lamp, angling it so the beam shone down on the device. Chell glanced at him sceptically, hoping he knew what he was doing. She didn't like the idea of having the darned thing fastened to her wrist for all eternity.

He looked at her briefly before turning back to the device. "Don't worry. I helped design this. I'd say fixing it shouldn't be a problem, but knowing you..." He shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if I have to write it off."

She frowned, but he shot her a quick smile that let her know he was joking. The concept was practically alien to her after so many weeks of his coldness and insensitivity. She wasn't one to bear a grudge though, Aperture Laboratories excepted, and she preferred his kindness to the way he was before. So she gave a small smile in return, dropping it quickly before the situation could get any more strange.

He worked in silence for a while, and she watched, noting how precise he was about which components went where, setting himself a map on the desktop.

"You, uh, were doing well up until this happened," he said at length. "In case you were wondering."

Chell nodded. She knew she'd been doing well. She was still alive.

"I...er, I wasn't always fair on you before. In the beginning, I mean. I didn't really appreciate how much of a trial those tests are. I'm sorry."

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. When he glanced up, she settled for a diplomatic nod.

"Look," he went on, "I shouldn't be saying this to you, but I'm starting to see what's going on here. And it isn't what it should be. Not if this company had a shred of decency in it. I've been...well, disillusioned is too kind a word. Blind. Stupid." He gave a quiet huff of a sigh. "What I'm trying to say is that I see why you're fighting back. But you shouldn't draw so much attention to yourself. It could have negative effects."

'I have to,' she thought in response. 'What else can I do?'

"Once I get back to Earth, I've had it with this company. I'm walking the moment I get off the shuttle."

Chell looked at him in surprise. She would never have guessed that he felt that strongly about Aperture, as if he hated them as much as she did.

"God, I shouldn't have told you that either," he said, lowering his screwdriver and rubbing his eyes. "Well, I'm guessing that you won't go telling anyone. I'd appreciate that."

She found herself nodding in agreement. She didn't want to betray his trust. That thought was strange too.

"Thanks."

Chell shot him another brief smile, and he returned it, holding her gaze just a little too long. A ripple of suspicion swept through her mind, but he turned back to his work before she could attempt to read anything in his expression.

"I know you can talk," he said, moving the light, his eyes darting here and there as he assessed the damage. "If you were truly mute, you'd probably know sign language."

She crossed her legs, resting her free elbow on her knee, propping her chin on her hand. He was right, of course. She wouldn't even know where to begin with sign language.

"It's okay," he continued. "It's your decision. But if you do decide to talk…well, you've probably got a lot to say that I should probably listen to. And if that happens to involve a few colourful words, I figure I deserve them."

Chell glanced up at him, pondering. She was cautiously growing to like this new Doug Rattmann, who shared so many of her own opinions about Aperture. Although she still wasn't sure about him, part of her instinctively knew that there'd come a time when she would talk to him. But it wasn't today.

"You must absolutely hate me," he muttered, almost to himself. He sounded thoroughly convinced, and quite dejected about the fact.

Chell shook her head. She didn't hate him. She never had, although she'd never really understood why, all things considered.

He lifted his head, eyes wide in surprise. "Really?"

She shrugged, self-conscious.

"You're much more generous than I'd be," he confessed.

Chell didn't feel particularly generous, but she accepted the compliment with another shrug.

He worked in silence for a while, and she studied the room. For a science lab, it wasn't very interesting. It was more like a personal work room. It was obviously only him that used it, as she recognised his handwriting on the papers stuck up on the notice board. She figured the other scientists had rooms like it as well. There was a used coffee cup weighing down some notes on a shelf. He took his coffee black, she noticed, observing the drip marks down the side. So did she.

"Any thoughts on what I can tell Peter about what happened to the turret?" he spoke up suddenly.

She smiled wryly, shaking her head. That was his problem. She wasn't that generous.

"I guess I'll think of something. Natural causes, maybe."

Chell gave a silent snigger, just a quick huff of breath.

"Not plausible? Okay. Judging by this, you gave it one hell of a whack."

She pulled a face. The thing had been about to kill her, of course she'd hit it hard.

"Not that you would, but don't worry about it. We have spares in storage. It'll just get replaced."

Chell rolled her eyes. 'Yeah,' she thought, 'that's just great.'

He shot her a sidelong glance from where he was bending over his work. "That's what I thought you'd say. Well...you know what I mean."

'Getting to be an expert at reading my face, are you, Mr. Rattmann?' she asked in her head. 'There's no need to be so smug. I'm not exactly subtle.'

Still, she couldn't deny that it was nice to have a conversation of sorts, even if it was mostly one-sided. At the beginning, she'd had the other test subjects to talk to, but then they'd given up, becoming almost entirely introverted. Now they barely spoke a word. Their quarters had become as silent as a tomb.

She couldn't imagine ever giving up herself, but sometimes it was tempting. In her heart of hearts she knew that she probably wouldn't survive testing. One mistake would be all it would take, and she wasn't perfect. It would be easier, kinder, to just give up and accept it, but she knew herself too well. She'd go down fighting, rebelling, screaming her outrage to the world. Well, to the moon. And her friends would be told a lie about a tragic accident, if they hadn't been told that already. 119 days was a long time to be missing. For the first time, she was grateful that she didn't have a family worrying about her.

Chell gave a quiet sigh. The danger, the monotony, and the hopelessness of it all got to her sometimes. She always fought it, used it as incentive to keep going, but she still felt it. And every time, it wore her down just a little bit more. Eventually she knew she'd break. Everyone had their breaking point. She was just hoping that she'd die before they found hers. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Doug lowered his tools, frowning slightly as he studied her. He stared at the desk momentarily, seemingly gathering his thoughts before looking back up.

"I know I can't possibly relate to what you're going through," he began. "But you should know, I want to get out of here too. If I think of a way, I'll make sure that we both go. I owe you that much."

Unexpectedly, she felt a wave of warmth and gratitude towards him. She didn't dare pin her hopes on what he'd said, but the fact that he'd said it meant more to her than she wanted to admit. She tentatively reached out, placing her left hand on his forearm. He stiffened like a startled cat, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

He glanced down at her hand before meeting her gaze. She nodded, smiling, knowing it was the best thank you she could give at that moment. Perhaps in the future, if he succeeded, she'd thank him in words. She didn't think it was likely, though. Maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit, but observing what was going on wasn't enough. If he didn't start acting, he'd never get home. And she would die in a test chamber.

She broke eye contact, withdrawing her hand, feeling a little foolish but unsure as to why. She wondered if she ought to be thinking more positively, but she was always wary of disappointment. Sometimes it could be more crushing than sorrow or anger.

Doug continued with his repairs, removing a series of tiny screws and transistors. After another period of silence, he spoke up again.

"I never really intended to be a scientist. When I was younger, I always thought I'd be a librarian, something quiet and peaceful. But the science bug bit me. I was fascinated, couldn't stop studying how things are created, how the universe works. Then when I was diagnosed, I started to think that I could find a cure somehow."

She frowned, confused as to why he was confiding in her, feeling absurdly flattered that he was, and puzzled as to what he was trying to cure.

A look of practiced wariness crossed his face. "I...uh...I have schizophrenia. Controlled. Mostly."

Chell nodded, slotting the knowledge into place. A lot of things made more sense. They called him 'the crazy one', which, she now thought, didn't really seem fair.

"A lot of people judged me by it," he said, his tone a little too blank to be entirely natural. "Still do, actually, although I've grown a thicker skin. Not everyone does, I should point that out. Most of my co-workers don't seem to care. But earlier in my life I lost out on a lot of opportunities because of it." He dropped his screwdriver with a clatter, and picked it back up. "I don't really know why I'm telling you all this," he confessed, sending her a small apologetic smile. "I want you to understand, I guess. I wasn't always...how I have been. I got...bitter. With the world and everyone in it. Being judged for a condition that I didn't want, and certainly couldn't help, was so unfair. I just wanted to lash out. I couldn't do that, so I protected myself. I just thought of myself, blocked out anything to do with anyone else, telling myself that I didn't care. It got easier, I'm ashamed to admit."

Chell found herself awkwardly sympathising with him, understanding why he'd acted the way he had. Part of her didn't want to. It had been far easier to resent him before she'd understood why. But now...she couldn't even swear that she wouldn't have done the same in his position.

"Anyway, I had a moment of realisation...that that wasn't me. The man I'd become...wasn't the man I was. And wasn't the man I wanted to be." He placed the screwdriver on the desk, tampering with the device with his long, ink-stained fingers. "You actually triggered that."

She looked at him sharply, feeling the frown cross her brow. He didn't glance up, but she could see from the faint blush on his cheek that he was aware of her stare.

"Every day, in every test, I'd see you keep fighting. You never give up, never let yourself become what Aperture wants you to be: compliant, hassle-free...disposable. It made me reassess my own life. I didn't fight like you. I got defensive, and I nearly lost myself. Well not anymore. I'm done with being that person. It's going to take time, but I'll learn to fight."

Even if she'd been inclined to speak, she wouldn't have known what to say to a declaration like that.

"I just wanted you to know that you've made a difference here. Even if it's only with me. And that I'm sorry for being an asshole and treating you the way I did."

Chell considered his words. She forgave him, she realised. She hadn't even thought about it, it had just happened. But she couldn't tell him. The words simply wouldn't come out, and she still wasn't even sure about breaking her silence. While her right hand was trapped, she couldn't write it down either, although that seemed a little cheap somehow. Fortunately, he seemed to pick up on her dilemma.

"I know you may never forgive me, but-"

She shook her head, and he glanced up.

"What?" His eyes widened a fraction. "You do forgive me?"

Hoping her sincerity was visible in her eyes, she gave a nod.

"Why?"

She sent him an exasperated look, and he laughed briefly.

"Sorry. Not that I'm not glad. Overwhelmingly, actually. But I'm surprised."

Chell shrugged. It wasn't something she could explain.

"Okay, I get it. Thank you. I don't think I deserve it, but I will, I promise you."

She didn't have time to react to that, as he gave a grunt and tugged the clasps of the device open. Feeling flooded back into her numb hand, tingling its way along her fingers. She wiggled them experimentally.

"There we go."

Chell breathed a sigh of relief. It had been surprisingly painful. She lifted her arm out of the device. He caught it, gripping it gently just before the elbow.

"Is that blood?" he said, frowning.

Chell figured it was a rhetorical question, since he was already examining her wrist. He peeled off her glove and rolled her sleeve up. Her skin was dotted with bruises, bleeding from a cut across her wrist where a fragment of metal had scraped it.

"Why didn't you let me know?" he asked.

She fixed him with a relatively blank stare, unsure what to convey. It hadn't been bothering her that much, and he wouldn't have been able to get the damned thing off her any faster.

Doug crossed the room to the shelves, full of dull-looking scientific textbooks, and took a medi kit from the top. Chell bit her lip, slightly embarrassed at the fuss he was making. He pulled an antiseptic wipe from its packet and began to clean the cut. She tried not to wince at the sting of it.

"Sorry, did that hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Liar."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he smiled.

"You don't always have to be tough as nails, you know."

She nodded, thinking, 'I do.'

"You'll always be strong. Admitting that you're in pain won't change that."

She knew he was right, but somehow it was easier to keep up the facade. He threw the antiseptic wipe in the direction of the trash, and rifled around in the kit. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, pulling out a roll of surgical tape and a small pair of scissors. He cut strips and gently pressed them into place, closing the cut.

Chell watched him work, studying what she could see of his face as he bent over her arm. His fingers were cold, but so was her skin. He was trying so hard to change, she couldn't help but be touched by it. That, coupled with all the other little things she kept noticing about him, meant that he would be occupying her thoughts for a long while. She knew herself well enough to realise that. They were on the same side. They hadn't always been, but they were now. Whatever happened to her, and she was still convinced that it wouldn't be good, she was comforted knowing she had an ally.

He wrapped gauze around her wrist, tying it securely, then carefully rolled her sleeve back down. She bobbed her head in thanks. He met her gaze, a spark of earnestness in his mismatched eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry this happened, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to talk to you. I can't pretend to know what your life is like here, but...just...you're not alone, okay?"

Chell smiled, a small, slightly despondent smile. She had no reason to linger there now, and she dreaded going back to the silence of the living dead. She almost laughed at the complete turnaround of preferring his company to theirs. Perhaps she should have scolded herself for her own fickleness, but she didn't have the energy or inclination for it. Moreover, she didn't care.

"I'm going to say that you beat that test," Doug told her.

'Doug', she noticed, not 'Rattmann'. She'd been referring to him by his first name without even realising.

"But I can't get you out of the others, you'll have to go back and do them tomorrow."

She sighed, but nodded. She understood why he couldn't get her out of the tests, and she supposed it would feel different knowing that he had her back. In whatever capacity he was able, of course.

"I'll escort you out. If you're ready."

Chell slipped down off the stool, cringing as her feet hit the cold tiles. She followed him back through the corridors, depressingly grey and dull after the bright white room, out into the main thoroughfare.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, by way of a parting.

Nodding, she watched him turn and disappear back through the door. She was actually sorry to see him go, she realised.

'Honestly,' she scolded herself, beginning the tedious walk back to her quarters, 'the first sign of kindness and you become as clingy as a limpet!'

But kindness was attractive, she'd always thought that. And he...well. Before the past week or so, she'd managed to be intrigued without particularly caring. Now she did care. Only a little, but enough to send her mind wandering where she'd rather it didn't.

'You really want your life to be any more complicated?' she asked internally.

But she disregarded it almost at once. She didn't care about complication. In fact, with her life as monotonous as it was, she wasn't at all sure that complication wasn't part of the attraction.

'No,' she thought, being excruciatingly honest with herself, 'it's just him. And you thought it before, you just felt guilty about it because he was an asshole.'

She didn't know what would come of it, if anything, but she looked forward to finding out. Maybe that was foolish, she didn't know. But anything to keep from thinking about the next test.

A/N: I really liked the idea of Chell accidentally vandalising Aperture property, as opposed to canon where she does it on purpose! Then it became clear that it was a good excuse for a little Chell/Doug bonding. I like it when that happens.