AN: Hey everyone! I'm momoni920 and I'll be writing this chapter of Everyday, Since Leaving. I'm totally stoked to be helping my best friend with her new project. We've been writing stories together for four years now, and, personally, I think our styles mesh well together. Of course, I'll let you lovely readers be the final judges of that. Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter!

Everyday, Since Leaving

Chapter 9

Chell woke lying on her back, staring blindly into the darkness. For a moment, she thought her eyes might still be closed. Her adrenaline started pumping when she blinked, realizing that they were open, and she flashed on the last few times she'd been in mysterious, dark rooms…

She lay still, allowing her eyes time adjust to the dim light and her body time to calm down and observe her surroundings as best they could. She could not tell how big the room was, as it extended around her until it faded into darkness. From behind her, fluorescent lights shone faintly, casting a sickly pallor to the place. It was damp, and smelled musty, all signs of being deep underground. She remembered falling, far and fast, and was thankful both for her long fall boots and the soft thing her head was resting on…

Wheatley!

She sat up quickly, not paying attention to the dizziness it caused her, and turned to look at the skinny man she had been using as a pillow. His lips were parted slightly, shallow little breaths escaping them. Chell closed her eyes and sighed as the chief of her worries left her. He was alive.

It was only then that she realized a dull pain in her left hand, the one she hadn't moved since waking. Testing it cautiously, she moved her index finger, a small twitch up and down. That was fine. No broken bones there. The rest of her fingers passed the test as well. Gingerly, she attempted the same movement with her entire hand and hissed in pain.

Wrist it is, then.

As she let the pain subside, she explored the room with her eyes. There were rocks and gravel all around them, but it vanished in a sea of fog into the distance. They were also covered in a layer of the stuff. Spotting her pack next to Wheatley's unmoving form, she reached over him and dragged it closer. She rifled through it, but found no first aid kit.

Why wouldn't we pack a first aid kit?

Oh, that's right. She'd had Wheatley through it over the ledge so he could move more freely. She should've had him put the important materials in her bag…

Luckily, she had packed a knife with her. Lamenting the necessary loss, Chell tore into the orange cloth from her jumpsuit. Ripping a length of the material away, she wrapped her hand with the impromptu bandage, using Wheatley's chest as a table and tying the ends with her teeth.

After she'd finished doctoring herself, she was able to tend more diligently to Wheatley. She gently reached behind his neck to check the scab she'd noticed the day before. A little wet with blood, but it hadn't cracked. She breathed another sigh of relief and made a note to be careful with the injury in the future. If it reopened now, before it had fully healed, he could bleed to death, and she would be able to do nothing but watch.

She continued her inspection, checking his collarbone and ribs for injuries, running her working hand over his wiry frame, putting pressure here and there. Nothing seemed out of place, and he wasn't bleeding. Her long fall boots had done their job.

Chell allowed her silver eyes to travel back to his face. He'd lost his glasses in the fall, and a few strands of hair clung to his forehead. If not for the creases between his eyebrows, he could've been sleeping. As it was, he looked like he was having a nightmare. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over his forehead, brushing the hair away and smoothing the troubled creases. He sighed, almost contently, and his breathing became more normal.

As she withdrew her hand, she caught a glimpse of her numerical tattoo under the loose white fabric on her right wrist. The one she couldn't even remember getting, but had woken up with, seemingly ages ago.

122-7605

That was who she was. That simple number, inked into her skin, was her whole identity.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. She sniffed once, trying to rid herself of the feeling, and it was all over. The salty water streamed down her cheeks as she bent over and sobbed into Wheatley's chest, gripping the dusty fabric of his shirt.

How long had it been since she last cried? Maybe she'd scraped her elbow as a child and called for her parents to kiss it and make it better. That was a different life, a different person. She couldn't remember her parents, but she did know who she was and where she'd led her friend. The one place she'd never wanted to see again, and now, she sensed, she would never escape. GLaDOS had deleted Caroline, the one part of her that had ever been human, that had held any compassion at all. Chell would never again see the sun, the moon, the stars. Never again would she laugh in the rain with Wheatley.

"Ch…ell…"

Her head snapped up. Wheatley's eyes were still closed and, as far as she could tell, he'd made no movement at all. Chell wiped her tears away and moved closer to his face, still leaning over him. Resting her hand near his head, she held her breath and listened.

Maybe I imagined it…

"Chell…"

Barely even a whisper, Wheatley spoke her name in his sleep. Such a small sound, and yet it gave her so much hope. She smiled to herself, eyes still watery, and ran her thumb lightly along Wheatley's cheekbone. She might've been hallucinating, but she could swear he smiled back.

She would get through this. If not for herself, then for the kind man that so easily and selflessly accepted her.

Back to business again, Chell sat up and grabbed her pack, carefully putting it on. She then turned the torso of her jumpsuit into a makeshift sling to help her hold her wrist still, with her left elbow sitting in the large sleeve and a new knot tied beneath her injured wrist. Granted, the backpack and sling combo made her look like a lopsided hunchback, but it would have to do.

She observed her next obstacle; Wheatley still lay dreaming peacefully. She didn't want to drag him across the rocky floor, and frankly, she didn't know if she could using only one hand.

Moving so she was on his left side, she crouched down and grabbed his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. Then she wrapped her own arm around his waist and hoisted him to a somewhat standing position.

Good thing he's so skinny and has such long arms.

Adjusting her grip on her friend, Chell set off grimly towards the source of light.