Chapter 6

Disclaimer: As said in the other chapters, the characters that make up the Portal universe do not belong to me. They did not originate from my brain. On the other hand, though, this story did. The idea, that is the only thing I own. Everything else belongs to their respective owners.

Summary: ( You know what is going on! If not, or need a quick 're-fresh', if you will, then I suggest clicking on that back button. Skim over the last paragraph or so, hm? )

I do not want to keep you lovely lot waiting; so, without further a do, please enjoy!

"I take it back!" Wheatley declared loudly. "This isn't fun! I'm not having any fun!" Only moments ago he had started to hit the other layers of the atmosphere, so the inky blankness of space was quickly dissolving from his view. And right then, the laws of physics activated; no longer sparing him any lick of mercy - like it had while he was in linear orbit. From the searing heat - most of his metal casing was glowing a dull, smoky red - to the intense vibration and wind-speed, that was threatening to tear his optic, as he entered each new section of atmosphere. He was not enjoying his long-awaited reunion with the blue-green-white marble that was Earth.

He was now plummeting through the last of the exosphere, his path through the watery air producing a massive pressure which smashed the thin oxygen aside in a violent shock-wave; igniting the stream of gasses and remaining space-dust behind him into a shining tail. If he had been given even the slightest of breathers, maybe Wheatley would have acknowledged that coming out from such a painful ordeal, was something breathtaking.

'Oh god, t-this is absolutely painful!' Wheatley announced for about the billionth time since being knocked off course. How did those bloody astronauts deal with this amount of agony? Or, maybe, they did not feel it at all; because of that large, black and white, flying thing? A plane? 'W-Whatever that bloody thing i-is called, I do wish I had one!'

By now, he had breached the mesosphere, the gas and debris he had pulled with him burning even brighter (thank God) in the oxygen-starved air. The increased acceleration had forced his optical plates completely closed; he was not even going to try to look. He was positive that if he did, then in an instant, he would finished; done for. All of his wires and his outer casing would be torn off him. That would hurt.

On the bright side, at least he was not going to see which part of the Earth's surface he was going to crash into. He hoped that it was a good thing, at least.

Accessing what he thought was his vocal processor, Wheatley tried his best to scream. But, it only came out as a gurgle. "Ghhngg!" It was not much, but, to him, it was an excellent try considering the circumstances. Right?

The heat and vibration were becoming unbearable. When was that so-called 'Emergency Shut Down' supposed to kick in? Wheatley could not speak any more - much less think. Having been caught in the grip of G-forces that would have immediately turned any human into jellied pudding. With his outer casing rapidly approaching a temperature of about two thousand degrees Kelvin. So, he abandoned the thought; it did not matter much to him now, anyways.

If he stayed conscious for just a beat or two longer, then he would uttered a relieved sigh. For the same boring and monotone voice that had announced his system failure came back online; sputtering, D-Due to extreme heat levels, a-a-actions for Emergency Shut Down were delayed. We at Aperture Laboratories apologize for th-the i-inconvenience. P-Please prepare for Emergency Shut Down in 3..2..1..

But the prerecorded message was given no response, for Wheatley had already blacked out. Now, with a low moan, the rest of his inner mechanism had followed suit; the only things not temporary dyed a bright red.

By now, which, surely, was hours later, Chell was sitting on the ground. Her eyes remained glued to the seemingly endless surface that was the sky, flickering from star to star. How long had it been now? Minutes? Hours? She could not tell, but it did not matter. That, and the fact she had left her watch back at her apartment.

She swallowed nervously. What if someone had already spotted Wheatley? No, that was not possible.

Was it?

Shifting so that her legs were laid out in front of her, Chell, for the first time since entering her apartment earlier on that evening, yawned. She needed to get some sleep, even if it was only for a few minutes. Little was certainly better than nothing, right? On that note, her eyes began to slowly slide shut -

'No!' Chell scolded, and slapped herself lightly on the cheek. She had to stay awake. To look for Wheatley. And so, she decided, that to fend off the intimidating powers of sleep, entertainment would be required. Looking around, she noticed that there was nothing but wheat.

Twisting the dull, golden-brown plant around her thin fingers, Chell started to hum as best she could. She did not know what exact song she was humming, but for some reason it sounded familiar. As she dragged the edible plant across, it faintly tickled the palms of her hands; almost like a feather would. And she smiled.

Chell looked back up at the sky, noticing that faint wisps of clouds were starting to drift in from her left. A small sense of worry poked at the corner of her mind. When Wheatley came, would she still be able to see him, even with all of those offending clouds in the way?

'Hopefully,' she thought and plopped on her back, using the cut wheat as a pillow. All she could do now was wait, and listen to the owl that hooted along with the crickets that were near by, who were playing to her their wonderful melodies. And hope that she would not miss him.

Chell woke with start the next morning, or at least, it was close to morning. The stars were nothing but faint, glowing masses against the slowly brightening sky now. She ran a hand through her messy hair, pushing back bangs so she could see. With a yawn that nearly popped her jaw from its place, the former test subject proceeded with her morning stretches. Only to freeze a second later.

Wait a minute - it was morning now, but it had been nighttime when she had heard the news report.

She paled. 'Oh no,' and her eyes widened slightly. Had she really fallen asleep? If she did - which she was positive of now - then there was the possibility that she had missed Wheatley.

A sudden cold breeze caressed her face, making her cheeks flush a faint shade of pink. Along the lengths of her arms appeared several, tiny goosebumps; signifying that she was at least a little chilly - as if the chill that raced up her spine was not enough. And then the annoyingly frigid, new-morning gust of wind came back, this time a bit harsher. It was as if it was telling her something - to follow. As odd as it seemed.

And so she did.

Chell cautiously stood up, finally taking notice of her surroundings. Unlike the night before, where animals were continuously calling out to each other, screaming for the receiver to respond, the wheat field was silent. Nothing made a sound, except for the breeze as it ruffled the pointy stalks of wheat and her as she inched about. And Chell realized with a soft chuckle that it probably was not of the best ideas to go in just some random directly. But, something, her gut, was telling her to keep going.

Of all the years that she resided within the many levels of Aperture Laboratories, the first lesson that she had learned was to always, always trust your gut. No matter what. Because, nine times out of ten, Chell had long-since noted, it led her to the correct answer. The only thing that she was not so confident about was what laid on the other end; at the finish line.

Would Wheatley be there, or not?

For the first time in probably a while, Chell was starting to doubt her actions. Her checks puffed as she held a breath in, and then slowly let out to keep from screaming out in frustration. She was getting nowhere. And she was pretty sure that she had passed that same, large pile of moss-covered wood for a third time. Her eyes fell to stare at her feet as they shuffled across the ground. Maybe she made a mistake with trusting her gut this time. It could be possible, right?

Chell frowned, becoming disappointed with herself. She had been too quick to act, and that was what made her angry. Had she not learned by now that to accomplish things, you needed solid proof and not just 'gut feelings'? 'Obviously,' Chell growled, 'I made a mistake.' And then she thrust her arms into the air; having an argument with herself. 'I mean, the chances of me ever finding Wheatley are a million to one! He could have fallen anyw-'

She paused, waiting a moment. What was that? The obnoxiously loud wailing of a nearby Cicada was her only answer. And, when the suspicious sound did not reappear, she continued to trek on.

Her head whipped around to her right, with her eyes narrowing almost accusingly at the pile of wheat stalks. Then the muscles in her face relaxed in one of confusion - none of this looked right. For some reason, she could tell. And, as she bent down to get a closer look, Chell took notice that the plants had been run over; as if by a car. 'Then where are the tire tracks?' She observed.

Very unlike a normal, sane (as if she ever really was) person, Chell followed the trail of compacted plants. And, she noticed, too, that there was a faint burning smell mixed in with the air. She inhaled deeply; yep, definitely smoke. Her eyes widened; where there was smoke, there would be a fire. Since it did not rain last night, Chell clarified, lightening was quickly out of the question. So, the only thing left would be-

"W-Who's th-there?" Asked a weak voice, and filled Chell with surprise that she had actually heard the near inaudible sound.

As she rushed forward, nearly tripping over her own two feet, the female suddenly became overly nervous; way more than ever before. She could feel her palms become slick with sweat, due to her overworked nerves; and she could feel her heart as it beat hard, faster, against her frail rib cage. Her chest heaved as she finally came to a stop in front of a well-sized ditch, having followed a dirt trail. The smell of smoke was more prominent now than before.

Again, the voice asked, "W-Whoever's up there. D-Do you mind helpin' me o-out of 'ere?" There was a quick pause, "please?"

That was when Chell's heart nearly split into two. How could someone ever sound so weak? So, with a splitting heart at the soft plead, she hesitantly walked forward; thoughts spilling forth and threatening to drive her crazy within moments. That voice, it sounded so familiar; so like him. But, with trembling hands, Chell wondered, could it be him?

That was when she decided to try. "W-W-" she coughed, and her eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. Still, even after a year or so of going to speech therapy - courtesy of that old woman next door, she still had trouble talking. "W-Wheatley?"

A long beat of silence was the answer. "O-Oh bloody hell! Chell? I-Is that you, mate?" This time, the voice was coated thickly in that oh-so-wonderful British accent and they sounded happier. Or, almost as if they were relieved.

And she knew, right then, that it was him. Carefully sliding down the decent-sized crater, it was then that she noticed how big the hole really was. Was all this mess made by just him? "Hi," she chirped; just as glad to see her dearest friend.

Immediately, that familiar blue optic locked on her. "Oh thank God that you're here! I-I thought that I was gonna be stuck down 'ere forever; you know, with having no legs or anything." He suddenly twitched, little sparks bursting free from his side. "But it's certainly been a long time since I've seen ya' mate, besides when I belled you. How've you ah been?"

As the personality core was talking, Chell noticed how he would scrunch his optic up in pain; the metal eyelid making the shrunken, blue circle into a mere nothing. And when he would twitch every other beat, sparks flying from either corner of his metal body. Chell knew that GLaDOS had messed the little robot up bad, but she never actually noticed how bad. Now she regretted it. Maybe she could have done something?

"-ou okay, Chell? You alright there, mate?"

Snapping out of her stare, Chell smiled and nodded. She scooted closer and reached her arms out, planning to pick up the abused machine. If it was any possible, Wheatley looked as if he gave the sun a high-five; he was that badly burned. His metal casing, now, was not as hot any longer, having been a result of breaking free of the Earth's atmosphere hours earlier, and was nothing but the color black.

Wheatley, still thinking that he was over one hundred degrees, cried out a warning, "N-No, no! Don't touch me! You'll get- ow!" He jumped.

But she did not care anymore, and so, she brought him close to her chest; embracing him in a tight hug. Sure, he was still a little warm, but it was nothing that she could not handle. Dirt and grime could be seen, along with specks of wheat, peeking out from the spaces in his metal form. Wanting to get a head start, Chell lifted a hand and picked out the offending pieces of dirt. "I'm f-fine."

"Oh, so you are then. Sorry, just assumed that I was still bloody hot an' all." Wheatley mumbled as he looked her small frame over. He was right after all - she looked terrible sick. "Say, Chell, luv', you feelin' alright? You don't look good at all. Bloody terrible, -" he rambled.

Chell squeezed him tighter. "I'm fine." She firmly answered. "B-But Wheatley o-okay?" Inwardly, she screamed; the limited speech was starting to get annoying.

Wheatley's bright blue optic instantly snapped to the ground, to which he suddenly found to be incredibly interesting. His handle bars twitched of their own accord, and it caused a few drops of sticky, black oil to leak from the middle. "I'm just a bit sore, to be honest mate. The meeting with the ground isn't as pleasant as you think it is. And the re-entry, bloody hell, that was pure agony, it was! Of course, I'm feeling better now," he was looking back up at her now, with his voice not above a whisper. "Being with you an' all,"

A soft blush came to her cheeks. Instead, she circled her arms further around and pressed her forehead against the top of his head. For a moment, she wanted to yell at Wheatley, he was making her want to talk much more than she could. She only hoped that he got the hint.

And he did. The bottom half of his metal eyelid inched up, making him seem to have a joyful expression. "I know, luv'. I missed you too," but the comfortable silence was soon shattered to pieces as Wheatley continued to talk. "Hey, mate, I have an idea. How-How about we go back to your place and get something to eat? Do you have any cake, in that tiny flat o' yours? I don't know 'bout you, but I could sure use some cake right now; what do ya' think, luv'?"

The only think that Chell could do was laugh. 'Typical Wheatley,' she mused, once standing. And as they started their slow walk back to the apartment complex, she became lost in her thoughts - the rambling of Wheatley being drowned out. Even though he had betrayed her all that time ago and tried to kill her, she could not find it in herself to simply not forgive him. She could not do it - simple as that. What point was there after all? What would staying mad accomplish, really?

For a second, Chell pondered, was there, perhaps, a different reason entirely?

She glanced down at the oblivious core, and smiled. Yeah, that was it - there had to be something else. Maybe it was the similarity the two shared; how Wheatley understood what it was like to be alone, mocked about, underestimated. Misunderstood. Maybe that was the reason their friendship had sparked so quickly - because they knew what it was like to be in each other's shoes.

"-what do you think, Chell?" Wheatley asked, and once again, knocking her out of her revere.

"Sure," she whispered, holding the core that she deemed special even closer. There just had to be reason why she forgave him as quickly as she had; because, even she did not even know. "Now, cake," she promised him. She would figure the solution to that soon. She had a bunch of years left to do, anyways.

Right now, the two of them had a date with some cake.

Fin.

A/N: Well. Interesting. Was the ending okay?

As you all know, this was the very last chapter of A Thousand Years. And I want to thank all you such lovely lads and lassies that decided to stick around until now! It means a great deal to me. (: So, thanks~ here's a slice of cake for you!

How many of you like Rise of the Guardians? Maybe How To Train Your Dragon? Or, do you have something else that you would like to see written out? Let me know!

Once again, I thank you a billion times for taking time out of your time to review, send me a PM, follow, or favorite this story! You all are such incredible people. Oh, and keep your eye out for anything new from me!

Until next time, ¡Adiós!