Days had turned to weeks, and weeks into a month and before Chell knew it Wheatley found himself back to normal once more. While it had been uplifting to see him finally able to move and fall and basically exist without any fear he'd break any further, she also came to find it was extremely problematic having him with such sudden mobility. When his glasses had come in he had been content with reading most everything around the house, and he finally had taken an interest in the television. This, of course, hadn't proven to be too much trouble; it kept him preoccupied and gave him something to do while she was away at work.

But when the arm was freed, and his side was healed-that was when the trouble began.

Chell couldn't necessarily be angry with him; he had just regained mobility that she was almost positive he'd only had for a short period of time, to begin with. She couldn't blame him for growing restless and wanting to try out new things. And, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt, most times he was actually trying to help around the house. He had never intended to cause more problems. She was even beginning to find he was leaving the house more often.

Wheatley had pitched the largest fit over the change of the weather which, for the most part, had kept him confined to the home. When Chell had picked up a jacket for the male, however, it seemed to give him the push he needed. She was surprised to find him waiting for her at work one day, bundled up and flashing a doofy grin. He still complained about the weather and the cold, but she found it was becoming routine. She couldn't find any complaints; it made walking home a little bit more enjoyable-even she had to admit the company was welcomed.

There was, however, one stipulation that Chell decided it was best to make good on. Wheatley most likely wouldn't be pleased, but she wasn't backing down.

A newspaper was placed in the man's lap, pulling him from the show he was currently watching on the TV-or the tele as he typically referred to it as. He seemed perplexed for a moment, and he made sure to show his confusion to the Lady before him.

"Uh, what's this? I mean I know what this is, a newspaper, obviously; why did you put it on me, I guess is the more appropriate question, yea? Unless you brought it for me to read then, thank you! I'll get to it later, actually, don't really want to read about how the economy is slipping now-whatever that means, really, but it seems depressing either way-"

Wheatley was cut off from his rambling when a tanned finger pointed at the red circle upon the paper's face.

He picked it up after that and examined the item in question.

"The supermarket? It's a lovely little place but I don't really see why you felt the need to circle it! Unless you're really passionate about food. I guess I would have to be too-need it to survive and all."

The look on Chell's face showed she was more than amused by his statement, and her arms found themselves crossing over her chest.

"You're passionate about food?"

"We'll uh-yes?"

"Great, because I got you a job there."

And with that Chell had turned on her feet and made her way into the kitchen.

Wheatley was left in a state of shock, his face displaying an array of emotions before settling on just one. If he were being honest, it was almost as if his brain suffered a momentary malfunction; something he wasn't even aware humans could undergo. It felt as though gears within his head were grinding and he had trouble comprehending the information laid out before him.

After a few brief moments of reflection, however, his wits returned and he threw himself after Chell.

"Wh-hold on a minute um-what-what exactly do you mean you got me a job just to clarify what may be confusing to me."

By this point Chell had taken to washing the usual overflowing pile of dishes that resided in the sink, leaving Wheatley gawking behind her. She hadn't even needed to see his face to guess it's current position.

"You know what a job is, Wheatley."

He can't argue because, yes, of course he knows what a job is, he's had plenty of them, but that certainly isn't what he meant.

"Well, yes, of course I know what a job is but I mean I don't know the human standards for having a job and I don't know if I could actually handle that, what with still getting used to things and I don't want to mess anything up because this body is hard to control!"

"You don't seem to have trouble around here. Believe me, this isn't going to be too much for you to handle."

It was disheartening to know how well the Lady knew him. She always had a comeback to anything he could possibly think of saying. That certainly had not discouraged the male, however, and he was quick to recover.

"But I wouldn't-I mean I had so many jobs back there and every time they just fired me and moved me somewhere else and here I can't do that. Word spreads and back then I was a little robot that a lot of money went into that was still relatively functional, so they couldn't just scrap me or anythin', had to keep me doin' somethin' when nobody else really could. But that wouldn't work here. I just don't want to mess it up."

That had been enough to pull Chell from her current action. She knew Wheatley's excuses well enough to know when he was being genuine and it had caused a pain to rise in her chest to hear him speak the way he had. Shit. She allowed a sigh to pass her lips before she turned to face the other.

"Wheatley, you're not going to get fired. Look-I know the owner. He's a good guy and he understands the circumstances-your injuries. I told him some things about you and he said he'd be more than happy to have an extra set of hands. You're just going to get bored around here anyway. It will be ok. I promise."

While he still seemed adamant about the situation, she could tell he was at least somewhat consoled. She took one last look at him before turning back to her previous activity, leaving Wheatley to flash through a few more emotions before speaking up again.

"Well, if you're sure. I guess it would get pretty boring sitting around here all the time but well, I still don't know the area that well-an', now that I'm thinking about it-"

"We can still walk home together, Wheatley."

And with that, a grin had taken hold of his features. He was pacified, at least for the time being. Though, there was a pit in the bottom of Chell's stomach that made her question whether this decision had been the right one. But she didn't back down; Wheatley was a human now, and a grown man; he could live life like any normal person. Besides, him living in her home without doing anything would have been suspicious. It just didn't look right. She pushed the thought out of her mind and instead took to focusing on the housework.

Everything would work out. She was sure of it.

On their way to work, Wheatley found himself completely overwhelmed with all he suddenly had pushed upon him. In retrospect, Chell probably should have been more upfront with the situation she had created for him. She wasn't lying when she said things would be okay but-well, she had had to explain Wheatley's presence in the town and, more importantly, in her home.

In her defense, what he had told people wasn't exactly a lie but perhaps it wasn't entirely truthful. But how could she ever really describe their relationship? No one would ever believe a word that left her mouth; at times she even reflected on just how unworldly her experiences had truly been. It would have pushed her right back to square one; right back to that jumpy, mute girl who hid within her shell for far too long. Besides, some slight untruths weren't going to hurt anybody. While she wasn't thrilled with the thought, she didn't have time to dwell on a guilty conscience. Her and Wheatley were quickly approaching their destination.

"Wheatley, I need to fill you in on something. I may have told a few fibs to get you this job."

Wheatley seemed—appalled would most likely be the best way to put it. Chell lying were two words he never thought would be strung together within the same sentence. Well, unless it was something along the lines of someone else was lying to Chell. But her being the perpetrator was shocking to him. She didn't appreciate the look of shock on his face, and it was obvious he noticed because it was soon wiped from his features. Instead, he found his hands wringing together, and his sights landed on her.

"Uh what-what exactly did you say? I mean, so I'm not caught off guard, you know?"

Chell sighed, and she carefully brushed a piece of hair from her face, tucking it carefully behind her ear.

"We used to work together. But you got promoted and you acted like a total a-" she quickly stopped herself, and found her lips pursing. Right, perhaps those weren't the right words to use in front of him.

"Well, you didn't exactly treat me great, so I walked out. I hadn't seen you in years, but you were in an accident and, considering you have no family, I agreed to take you in. I told him you're still adjusting to this sort of life and still healing from the accident so he should take it easy on you."

Wheatley had very obvious mixed emotions regarding just what she had told his new boss because, really, it wasn't exactly a lie. However, it did cause the familiar sinking feeling to return. It was eerily similar to the truth and he found himself suddenly perturbed, an odd look crossing his pale features. He did his best to try and forget what had happened all those years ago, what he had done. But now that he thought of it, he had never really earned her forgiveness, she had never made any move to show he was absolved of his previous actions. It only caused more guilt to rise in his chest.

She was still giving him a home, a warm bed to sleep in, clothing, meals-she gave him practically everything even after all he had done. The least he could do was take this job she'd set up for him and work as hard as he could. He at least owed her that much.

"Are you alright?"

Wheatley was visibly startled by the voice and was left gawking at the woman for a few brief moments before he snapped out of his daze. He hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking in the process. He quickly made his way back to Chell's side and passed a sheepish look.

"Sorry." Was his timid response.

"It's fine. I get it, your nervous."

"No, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for all that I did before. I'm really truly sorry."

Chell didn't respond that time. Instead, her lips pursed, drew into a thin line, and then she very gently nodded her head just as she had before.

It wasn't what he wanted, but at least he had tried.

It was only a few short minutes after his apology before they arrive at the market, with Chell leading the way. An older man stood near the register, one Wheatley actually recalled seeing before.

He was a tall man but did not match Wheatley's own height. However, what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. He was fit with shaggy brown hair and a scruff on his face to match. Despite his rugged appearance, his eyes were soft, and they took in the lanky man before him. When he was satisfied, his gaze turned back to Chell, and Wheatley noticed the soft smile she gave him in return.

"Good morning, Rick. How are you?" Chell's voice is so soft, it's a tone Wheatley can't help but find himself drawn into. He was still growing used to hearing her speak, even after all that time. It was melodic to him, and this time was no different.

He soon noticed he was being observed once more and it made him want to retreat into himself. His hands clasped and wrung; it was really all he could manage at the moment. That, and a nervous grin, as well as a very vague wave.

"I'm fine, same as always. I'm more interested in your friend, though. I'm assuming you're Wheatley. I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you!"

When a hand was thrust toward Wheatley he knew he had no other choice but to accept. His grip was near bone shattering, and it took all of his being not to allow his smile to falter. When he pulled away he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid grabbing the injured limb. Oh, how pathetic that would make him look!

"It's nice t'meet you too!" Wheatley finally finds himself sputtering, and he could tell Chell was amused with the situation once more by the coy grin that passed her own features.

He didn't know why she felt that way, because he certainly did not find this the least bit amusing.

"I really have to thank you, I haven't worked in a while, actually, so this will be my first job in some time. But uh-! I'm a hard worker so, really, you have nothing to worry about, I'll do my best, whatever you need just say the word an' I'll get it done. You know that old saying, you say jump I'll ask how high? Certainly, like that."

When Rick had begun laughing, Wheatley found himself caught off guard once more. He was only growing more nervous by the second because what on Earth was he missing? Maybe he really wasn't cut out for the human world if he couldn't even pick up on these social cues.

"You really are a talkative one, huh? Chell mentioned that."

Chell, as if knowing it would have brought up some sort of response, decided to interject before Wheatley could get a word in.

"Well, I have to go or I'm going to be late. I'll see you around, Rick."

After she disappeared Wheatley found his heart rate increase tenfold. There had been a point in his life where humans really hadn't fazed him. And yet now, being left alone with a man such as this, seemed agonizing for him. This wasn't what he was cut out for, this was something so entirely foreign to him that he should never have even attempted to act human, to try and blend in, to involve himself in her life.

Rick moved from his spot and Wheatley nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw his figure passing. He stopped when he was a few feet away and gazed back at Wheatley.

"Come on this way. I'm not going to have you do anything too crazy-jeez, you're looking at me like I bite or something. It's alright, there's no need to be so jumpy! I want you to help me stock the shelves, that's all, maybe run the register from time to time. My wife also works here so you won't be overloaded. I really hope you enjoy it here. The last thing I want is for you to be so nervous."

While he had never been one to genuinely appreciate humans, he couldn't help but appreciate what this man had to say. It had been enough to calm his nerves and to even lead him back with him. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, after all.

As Chell made her way back to the market she couldn't manage to shake the nerves building up within her being. Maybe she really had pushed him too hard too quickly-he was obviously uncomfortable. But she was making good on her own word. All he had really done since his return was live off her with the occasional apology. So, really, she shouldn't have felt bad about her decision. Besides, he was a full-grown man who should have had a job. It was a shame she really couldn't convince herself on that one. Wheatley was essentially an overgrown child; there were still certain objects and terms he was oblivious to.

For what it was worth, that quickened her footsteps.

When that messy head of blonde locks met her gaze, she found her nerves rise even higher. The smile on his face, however, caused a calm to wash over her.

"Ah, hello!" It was a shout, and she almost wanted to laugh in response but held back, and instead, she allowed a warm smile to pass instead while she properly approached him.

Chell had gone to ask how things had gone but it seemed Wheatley had beat her to the punch. She decided to turn on her heels and began the walk home as he spoke. It was no surprise when he blindly followed along, babbling on about the day he had experienced.

"It wasn't bad at all! I actually had a relatively good day, which was really—odd, if I'm being honest. I don't think I've ever had a good day at work before. There was always something hectic goin' on before so this was nice. Humans have a lot more room for error, y'know? I mean, I was still made by humans, nothin's perfect, mate, can't be this perfect robot. Not even She was perfect, y'know? I'd hardly count murder as anythin' good—b—sorry."

She had decided to ignore his last bit; he often found ways to bring up unfavorable subjects (more specifically unfavorable to him more than anyone) and she'd learned to simply brush it aside at this stage.

"So, you enjoyed it then?"

"Yes! It wasn't anything terribly hard, and he—Rick, that was his name, right?—was very nice, very considerate. His wife came in a bit later an' I got to talk to her too—Stacey, I believe her name was? Yes, very nice couple, I think I will really like it there, actually."

It was enough to cause Chell to smile. It was nice to know she had done something right, and it was nice to hear Wheatley felt like he fit in somewhere. From the sound of things, he hadn't had a place in quite a while, if ever. But it wasn't as if that was anything new to her. Even back then it was rather apparent he didn't fit in with the rest of the individuals in the underground facility. Nothing down there had ever given her even the slightest inclination that it could be trusted; aside from that one very peculiar turret which to this day she still debated whether she had truly met or not. Either way, she had almost instantly trusted that little blue ball upon their first meeting and to this day she couldn't explain why.

And of course, that had to have been the case. Nothing was simple with her.

"Chell?"

She didn't even miss a beat upon being brought back to reality, and instead, she moved her hands into her pockets, and her gaze remained on the road ahead.

"Sorry, I was thinking about what to make tonight."

"Oh—well, if we ever need anything you could always ask me to get it from here on out!"

Chell sighed in response, and, for a brief moment, allowed a slight grin to toy at her lips.

"Yea, I could. Thank you, Wheatley."

The rest of the night was rather routine; the pair had slipped into a familiar schedule over the past month. Wheatley would set the table while Chell cooked dinner, the two would eat, and after cleaning up, they would end up on the couch together, partaking in their own activities. Wheatley most always found himself preoccupied with a book; often times to be polite to Chell. He had noticed that she preferred reading over the tele, so it was something he had reserved for when she was out, or when she was busying herself with something that didn't require silence.

Wheatley had come to enjoy their evening time together. Even if there were no spoken words between them he would relish the peace and the time spent together. He was coming to find that words really had not needed to be spoken to appreciate someone else's company, and he hoped Chell would feel the same. At the very least he was proud he could show some restraint. It was why he found himself disappointed when Chell had wished him an early goodnight. But he smiled, nonetheless, no longer needing her help with two functioning arms. Chell was often tired from work, and she deserved her alone space as much as he.

As Chell readied herself for bed she couldn't help but replay the events of their first meeting in her mind, and everything that followed. Even as she laid her head to rest she couldn't shake the thoughts from her head, or the question of why. Why Wheatley, why had she chosen to trust him above anything else, or really, anything at all? She had met personality cores prior and had had little remorse when disposing of them. But Wheatley had been different. Perhaps it was the humanity within him that drew her to the little core, that gained her trust and her undivided attention. Because, when it really came down to it, Wheatley had been the most humane being Chell had met in Aperture.

It was almost funny when she thought of it; that had been the one thing that drew her to him. If she were being honest, there had been a time where she wholeheartedly believed the two of them would escape together. She had no idea what she would have done with such a bulky core; establishing a life on her own was hard enough, having to do so with such an odd, unexplainable robot would have doubled the issues. But she didn't care back then, all she knew was that she couldn't leave something like Wheatley behind. Not after all he had done for her—not after what she had seen in him.

The moment he had turned on her had ripped her heart out. Tore it to pieces. But she still tried to save him regardless. Because deep down she knew that ungodly fear she had heard just before she let go; she knew that look of pure terror she had briefly seen before he was gone forever—or at least so she thought.

She wanted to save him because deep down she knew there was a good reason to. He wasn't just some hunk of metal, and if she could have saved that she would have.

The screaming draws her from her haze of brief periods of sleep and thought, and Chell finds herself shooting upright, heart pounding against her chest. The numbers on her alarm make her want to gag, but when the shouting doesn't die down, Chell finds herself lunging from her bed and reappearing in the living room.

Unfortunately, this had also come to be somewhat of a habit for the core-made-man. Chell had become accustomed to these nightly episodes and was somewhat upset because Wheatley had been so good as of late. She was surprised, however, to find the blonde already awake and sitting upright with a frantic gaze searching in the direction of the kitchen. It scared Chell, watching his franticness, his fear, and for a moment she stood in silence watching him search. The actions are ones far too familiar to her, and she vaguely wonders if this is how she had been seen so many years ago.

"Wheatley?" She finally speaks up, her voices smooth and calming.

"I saw somethin' s-somethin' in the window, I swear there was—red, little red light an'—an' I thought, oh I thought it was a turret—in the window, but that would be silly an'—blinked so many times but it didn't—it was still there—I don't know—no, it was definitely there I'm awake! I saw it I did, I saw it!"

"Wheatley, it was just a nightmare."

"No! Lady—Chell, listen I saw it, I did, I swear—"

"Wheatley, there's nothing there."

As if to prove her point, Chell had made her way into the kitchen and pulled back the curtains just to prove the total lack of life. Wheatley seemed unconvinced, and it worried her just how shaken he was. She decided it best to completely close the curtains before rejoining him on the couch, as was becoming a habit.

The two sat in silence for some time. Wheatley slowly recovered, his breathing evened out, and before long they were back to normal, both sitting silently on the make-shift bed. Her previous thoughts still mulling in her head, Chell decided that she would take a different approach this evening.

"I used to see that a lot too, you know. In the windows. Everywhere."

Wheatley looked rather surprised by this knowledge, and his blurred gaze turned toward the lady.

"What—no, you?"

Chell simply nodded in response, and it completely shook his beliefs yet again. Wheatley had thought he knew the lady so well; thought he had her down to the science. And each time he believed so she destroyed any preconceived notions. He had believed her to be the strongest person he knew; the fact that she could be haunted by demons was unbelievable to him. But then again; it was so strong of her to admit such. He had been too sheepish to do so, had refused to utter a word. His lips pursed, brows furrowed. It was time little old Wheatley became less predictable. If Chell could talk about it, then so could he.

"I—down there she—I guess that's why I'm seein' things. When I was down there she did a lot of stuff an'—I think about it a lot. I still feel it. The worst was the shocking; I thought my circuits would fry an' when this happened—"

His breath caught in his throat, and Chell watched him with mild surprise painted across her face. She found her tongue running over her dry lips, and then made a move she would never have expected herself to make.

A hand made its way onto Wheatley's back and began to gently rub soothing circles. Her vision, however, was diverted elsewhere as she thought. Wheatley momentarily shied from the touch, but soon sunk into the comforting motion. A foreign, but welcomed action.

"Thank you. For telling me—I know it's hard." She had yet to tell anyone of just how affected she had been by GLaDOS; by him. She knew it took a lot of courage, and the fact he had even somewhat confided in her was appreciated.

At some point the two of them found themselves lying side by side, staring at the ceiling above them, listening to the sound of their own breathing and the occasional gust of wind outside.

"Wheatley? It was a turret then, right?" Her curiosity got the best of her; and besides, it was time to prove her suspicions right.

"Yea, that caused most of the damage."

"I figured. Hurts like a bitch."

It caused his insides to twist, but for once he felt they were having a genuine connection, they had something they could agree on even if he had been the one to put her through the same experience.

"Yea, it did hurt like a bitch."

Chell laughed, and Wheatley jolted at the sound. It wasn't something he heard often, let alone as pure as this. He found his heart fluttering at the sound, at the thought of being able to make her laugh, and he soon found a heat rising in his face.

"I've never heard you really curse before. It's odd."

"I don't do it all that often. Maybe it won't stick."

"Save it for when you really need it. It will carry more weight."

Wheatley paused, allowed a crooked grin to pass over his lips.

"Yea, I guess you're right."

And then they laid in silence again, with Wheatley replaying that beautiful laugh in his mind. Before long he'd noticed Chell's rhythmic breathing had slowed, and upon inspection, he found she had fallen asleep at his side. Never before had he realized just how beautiful the Lady—Chell, was. He had seen dozens—no, hundreds of sleeping humans in his lifetime and yet none could ever hold a candle to the woman at his side. He had never known her to look so peaceful, so elegant and yet do all of this without trying. It causes that odd feeling in his chest to return, and his breath to momentarily catch in his throat. As he laid back he made it a point to glue to sight to memory so that he could hold onto that sight indefinitely. His eyes closed, and his breathing soon slowed, content to feel the warmth of the woman by his side.

The red light in the windowsill dimmed as he succumbed to sleep, and he dozed off to the sound of gentle breathing, and the distant crow of a bird.