C35

Insomnia and Coincidence.

Throughout the night, Doug and Wheatley spent their time avoiding Mudcrabs and slaughterfish and splashing their way through the marsh. To them this kept the pair on edge constantly, with hardly any time to rest, lest they be eaten, to Wheatley's main concern.

Although, the main concern faded to a minor concern as they had made it to Morthal. Wheatley's face perked up and nearly cried as they had successfully reached some bout of civilisation. He recalled slaying the Dragon with Chell as a happier moment, and was somewhat proud of himself. Doug was skeptical and found that hard to believe, but he let the elf have his own way in glory. It was still the middle of the night as Doug and Wheatley made their way to the towns local inn.

They sat near the large fire in the middle in the room with Doug holding a bottle of mead and contemplating their next move. He needed to think of the most methodical plan to head back into Arkngthamz and retrieve Caroline's Control Program.

He placed his mead on the ground and leaned over, staring into the middle of the fire and his thoughts automatically pondered into the Dragonborn. No. He couldn't do that. There was no way they could help her at this stage. He couldn't even think properly that he realised his mind was trying to cope with a zen-like state containing his rage. His eyes widened at the prospect that he had gotten so angry, that somehow his mind was maintaining a false sense of calm by focusing on what they could do as this stage. How this affected his own sanity was anyones guess.

And he certainly couldn't forget somehow he could control turrets with magic. Caroline mentioned technopathy before. A type of magitek as it appeared to be. There were books that spoke about it but were mostly fictional works. Didn't stop Aperture from looking into it, however. Speaking of magic, Doug recalled the broken down portal gun back at Proudspire Manor, where the Housecarls were still huddled. It was in pieces yes but as long as the singularity was intact he could still repair it. As one of the few who got to modify the gun in the past he could certainly get it running again.

He looked at Wheatley who leaned back in his chair and fumbled around with his bottle. The poor elf had been through a lot. His clothes were still blood stained from the turrets over cheerful task of dispensing product.

"You think that ruin is gonna be the same as before?" Wheatley asked, breaking the silence.

"I would assume so. What makes you say otherwise?" Doug responded.

Wheatley took a sip.

"Katria said that place was unstable as a dragon locked in a cage. Prone to random earthquakes and stuff. I don't...I don't want to end up getting ourselves killed if you know what I mean."

Doug wracked his brain to figure out how they'd get through it. With the Portal gun in mind he could fix it up with his original idea to modify it to work on relatively non-fluctuating surfaces. '

"You don't have to come with me if you don't want to Wheatley. I can work this out on my own." Doug suggested.

Wheatley's eyes widened as he shot up from his chair and glared at the man.

"Nonononono...uh uh. You're not getting rid of me that easily. Of course you would want to leave me behind for my own safety! Pfff."

Never mind that they had just spent the night avoiding not quite certain death, Doug knew this was basically his facade. He'd known him too long to identify it. If anything, Doug subconsciously wanted Wheatley out of it out of fear for him stuffing up and resulting in possibly losing the Control Program to a cave in.

"If the outlook of it was like before it's definitely got an Aperture influence. We'd need the Portal Gun if we're going to get anywhere. And there's only one gun between us. And it's Chells."

Doug commented. The man dreaded to speak of it and the honest need for it at this moment. He'd told Chell he was going to make some adjustments. And he damn will make some adjustments once he got the pieces. But they were stuck up at Solitude.

Wheatley grumbled. He knew how much Chell hated people touching the device. He was being annoyed for her.

"Yesss keep it yourself then mate. You don't need me after all. Knowing Chell, she'd find out that you'd be using the device without her permission."

Doug rolled his eyes. This was pathetic. He'd helped develop the gun for heavens sake. All he would do was fix it, use it and hand it back to Chell. Simple.

"I just need to make extensive modifications to it. I'll need those materials. I'll have to send a courier to Lydia and Jordis."

Wheatley ended up sculling the rest of the mead.

"Yeah yeah better do it in the morning. I'm exhausted. See you in the mornin'?"

Doug didn't sleep. He was agitated and eager to push forward in his glance to get this over and done with. It may have been the lack of sleep but he was irritated with endless thoughts about how he would go about resolving this. He tried so hard to get the Dragonborn off his mind by analysing the smallest things. He believed the Dragonborn would find him pathetic if he had continued to mooch off her. It was time for Doug to finally prove himself.

It like in the times back at the facility, the mind games that he'd played with GlaDOS and somehow surviving. Part of him was thrilled but his guilt got the better of him that ended getting him shot. He needed to think clearer if he was going to continue to survive.

The power of the technopathy was inviting. To control those who had once called the situation dire in his face was a wonderful feeling. If someone he could recreate and maybe install proper defenses this way without it blowing up in their faces would be fantastic.

He tossed and he turned. He finally gave up and sat up. He had to do something while his mind was wide awake. Stuff this...he had work to do.

Wheatley yawned as he stretched his elongated limbs and the subtle cracks of his joints played in a near perfect harmony for that brief moment. He rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the room and went out to find Doug. Upon questioning the Innkeeper they mentioned that he went outside and never came back in. They recalled that he was busy mumbling to himself and was in such a rush that the only words he heard come out of his mouth was that he had work to do and was going to get it done.

The elf wandered around town to search for Doug, wondering where the bloody hell he banked off to. He had been impatient the night before. Wheatley made all sorts of assumptions and one of his responses was that he refused to believe that he left and gotten eaten or something. Wheatley felt alone as he surmised Dougs statements prior, saying that Wheatley didn't have to go if he didn't want to. Was he really that useless? No. Wheatley held a desire to help out. Not that he...really had that before. Wheatley hardly knew what his own desires were let alone the true meaning of it.

Maybe it was a human thing. Maybe it was an elf thing. It was in deep contrast to before where really the only honest part of him was admitting he wanted to save his own skin...or core. Skyrim had it's affect on people. It somehow turned selfish people into their own version of being heroes. And it did the opposite on others but that was besides the fact that Wheatley was changing. For better or for worse he wasn't sure yet.

The day he'd help save Morthal from the Dragon was..unforgettable. The townspeople seemed to remember him as he wandered around town, thanking him from protecting their city. He smiled as his cheeks warmed up. To be a hero. It would certainly bring light to where his heart once grew darkness, to those terrible days back in the facility.

It was certainly infectious though. He had the Dragonborn to thank for that. In adaption to what a completely different atmosphere had brought, that its most infamous features looked far more appealing. For a weird, odd reason.

"Wheatley!"

Wheatley almost pissed himself as Doug come up from behind with his horse Alice in tow. Wheatley raised an eyebrow.

"Good God Douggie. You look awful." Wheatley commented. He noticed a peculiar white and black object hanging off it.

"What...where did you get that?" Wheatley asked, surprised.

Doug chuckled. Every time Wheatley had that look on his face, he was amused. Particularly when Wheatley would boast and you'd show him something ten times better than what he came up with and the smile would be wiped away from that stupid face of his.

"It's interesting how much time you have when you're not sleeping. You of all people should know that."

Wheatley wasn't vaguely impressed. How racist for him to mock his former AI form!

"How rude! I had times when I was sleeping! Sheesh, we're not all that different. I had an internal alarm to wake me up. But there are times where I didn't set it to the right time...or the right date for that matter. But that's besides the point. Where did you-"Doug smiled. Wheatley was right. Doug had larger dark circles around his eyes and his wrinkles a little more pronounced than before. It drew a pit of sickness in Wheatley's stomach. He's seen that look before...he responded with swallowing his own saliva. He imagined Doug in charge of Aperture...if Wheatley himself acted the way he did, with Doug's state of mind, who knows what he could do? The elf was glad Doug was on their side and had more common sense than to fiddle with the stuff he didn't know.

"If you must know I grabbed hold of a courier passing by and got Lydia to send the materials down to me." Doug replied.

That was surprising. Doug must be really on to something. He normally did that under pressure.

"Wait, Lydia is here? Where is she? Did you tel-" Wheatley pondered.

Doug interrupted in greater haste as he adjusted the harness on his horse.

"She had to go back to Whiterun. We discussed the situation regarding the where abouts of the Dragonborn. She said she might get a team to figure out where she went. Most likely the Companions."

That was much to Wheatley's relief. While an insomniac Doug was one to be concerned about it really took hold of what he could do in this time. It took Wheatley back to old times where Doug at one stage refused to take his allocated breaks and often had to relay information back and forth to their coworkers.

"Oh good. So, did Lydia fix the gun herself?" Wheatley surmised.

Doug rose an eyebrow.

"What? No! I did."

Good God it was worse than he thought. He was going through his obsessive phase again. While this made Doug focus, he was more prone to being irritated and angry at the slightest error in his calculations...and the idiocy of other people. He wasn't as tolerable.

"Of course it looks more like Dwemer technology since I had to implement dwarven metals into it as well as various gems, included soul gems to get it in practical working condition. Looks patchy but I assure you she'll work better than before."

Wheatley had seen bits and pieces of Dwemer stuff but never really got into looking at the properly. The device did have bits of the aforementioned dwarven metals molded between remnants and recovered Aperture grade plastics and metals. Heavens know what else he did with it.

"I sincerely hope you're right. So...we headin' off to Arkngthamz now or?" Wheatley queried, wanting to get the show on the road.

Doug nodded.

"Certainly. The second we retrieve the the Control Program, the moment Caroline get's off our backs and then we'll focus on finding the Dragonborn!"

Short Chapter I know. But they're finally on the road! And the next chapter I know for sure is quite long so far.