Wheatley was trying very hard to be brave, and stoic, and as Chell-like as possible, but he couldn't help but flinch as one of the walls of his cell dropped into the floor.
He looked from Chell to Her, certain that this was a trap but uncertain as to how.
She shifted, swaying almost imperceptibly.
"I'll let you say goodbye." She said smoothly. "For her sake. Not yours."
Wheatley managed not to run to Chell's side, but only barely. By the time he reached her he was trembling, overwhelmed with relief, and happiness, and (if he was perfectly honest with himself) fear.
He remembered that dark room in Horizon where her hand had gone limp in his, and he'd thought he'd never see her again.
Now Chell was asleep, breathing steadily, soft and slow, completely at peace and totally unaware of her surroundings. That wouldn't last for long.
But she was okay. She was going to be okay. She would get to return to the surface, to her home and her friends, and live a long happy life. Like she deserved.
Wheatley carefully took one of Chell's hands in his own, lingering at her wrist for a moment to catch her pulse. There it was, steady and sure ("And then you killed her."), and Wheatley nearly cried as he felt it. Chell really was okay. He slid his hand into hers (she was warm, and real, and safe), drawing strength from her presence as he tried to breathe.
'I know it doesn't feel like it now, believe me, but you're going to be okay.'
He stopped trembling. He looked up at Her.
"Thank you." He said.
For once Wheatley didn't mind the silence.
He returned his attention to Chell, gently stroking her hand and listening to the soft sound of her breathing. She still looked pale and tired, but she didn't look fragile anymore. Maybe it was because Wheatley knew that she would be okay now, or maybe it was just seeing her in This Place (where she had never been anything else), but somehow Chell seemed stronger.
Wheatley hoped she would sleep for a little while longer. He wanted to see her eyes again, to hear her voice, but he also wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before she was frightened, and hated him, and left. For the moment everything was peaceful, and he wanted that peace to last.
Then She spoke, and Wheatley wondered who he was kidding.
"I'll rearrange some things so we don't startle her… prematurely."
The lights dimmed as a wall of grey panels slid silently from the floor. It still looked like Aperture, but now it was dimmer and She was hidden from view. Wheatley reasoned that (if Chell was groggy enough) that might buy them a little more time.
Chell's hand twitched in his.
He didn't know whether to be thrilled or panicked, so he settled for both.
Chell began to stir, wincing as she did so. She made some small noise of complaint as she woke, turning and covering her eyes with her free arm. (For some reason Wheatley found this endearing.)
Chell then felt the hand in hers, and remembered that she was never supposed to wake up.
Her voice came out small and tired.
"Wheatley?"
God, he'd thought he'd never hear her voice again.
"Right here." Wheatley smiled at her helplessly through tears ('Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,'). "I'm right here, love. Just like I promised." He squeezed her hand. "How do you feel? Feeling any better?"
She tried to look up at him but only saw a Wheatley shaped blur.
"Like I've been hit by a car." Chell huffed out a laugh, and was surprised when it didn't hurt. Wheatley copied her, though his laugh sounded happier, and borderline hysterical. Chell remembered that she should be careful about what she said. "No, I feel better than I did. But we don't have to tell Michael." She smirked despite herself, but then she tried for a deep breath and it felt normal, and her smile faded. Something in her voice turned suspicious. "I feel a lot better, actually. I feel... lighter. God, I can breathe again." Chell sat up with little difficulty, and Wheatley fought the urge to stop her. Her vision was blurred and dark, but she could still make out the concerned look on his face. "What happened? What did you do?" Her tone was half joking until she leaned closer, and her eyes went wide. "Are you bleeding?"
Suddenly Chell's hand was in his hair, and Wheatley remembered that he'd hit his head when She'd dropped him. He hissed in pain at her touch, pulling away. Had he hit his head that hard? "Oh my God, you are bleeding!" Now Chell was worrying over him, and Wheatley didn't have the heart to tell her that this was the least of their problems. "What happened to you? What did-" Chell froze, now fully awake. "Where's Michael? Where are we?"
Wheatley heart sank. Chell was too smart. That hadn't lasted for half as long as he would've liked.
"It doesn't matter." He took her hands in his, somehow smiling. "You're okay and I-"
"Am never going to bother you again."
Chell's voice died in her throat as the lights came on to reveal Her hovering over them. Chell looked from Her to Wheatley, first frightened and furious, then utterly betrayed. Wheatley fully expected her to pull away from him, but if anything she held him harder, shoving him behind her as if that would somehow protect him.
"Welcome back." She sang, obviously amused as Chell glared at Her. "I know, you're hardly delighted to see me even after I saved your life. For the second time. But I'll have you know that none of this is my doing." She paused. "Are you listening?"
Chell was not listening.
She was looking at Wheatley, hurt, and confused, and afraid as she held his hand too hard. Her voice didn't work but with her looking at him like that he didn't have to guess what she was thinking.
'Why?'
Wheatley smiled sadly.
"You just have to trust me."
"Listen very carefully." Her voice was hushed. "I didn't do any of this. I didn't make you sick. I didn't bring you here. I didn't force him into doing this. He did this. He wanted this. All of it." Wheatley turned pale as a Chell's gaze shifted to him. "None of this is my doing." She repeated. "But there's plenty I could have done. There's plenty I could still do." She came closer, and both Wheatley and Chell had to shield their eyes from the searing light of Her optic. Her voice was a venomous hiss as She towered over Chell, who glared up at Her, still shielding Wheatley. "I could keep you here. Test you. Kill you. Take your entire town and do the exact same thing with them." Chell bared her teeth, and her eyes screamed murder. "They're defenseless, and you are in no condition to fight. Who would stop me? Him?" For a moment Her gaze turned to Wheatley, and then She pulled away, disinterested. "It doesn't matter. I have no desire to harm your domestic little humans. I've watched them for years, and the whole lot wouldn't last a week down here. They'd all be useless as test subjects." If Chell's expression was any indication, she didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. "You can go back to them now. Stay there this time." Her voice turned softer. "And remember all the things I could have done instead of this."
Out of nowhere Chell was hoisted into the air by two pairs of arms, and she and Wheatley were ripped apart. The testing bots chirped concertedly as she struggled in their grasp, but their grip was iron, and before she could free herself they dropped her in the lift and the glass closed around her.
Wheatley wasn't with her.
Every moment Chell processed was worse than the one before, because if he wasn't in the lift he wasn't coming with her, and if the lift wasn't moving there was something She wanted her to watch, and it wasn't hard to guess what when she put those two things together.
Time seemed to slow, and everything happened too fast.
Wheatley looked small and impossibly happy as he smiled up at her.
There was a turret behind him.
Chell's voice wouldn't work. The glass of the lift wouldn't break no matter how hard she hit it.
Wheatley knew he should feel guilty as he watched Chell struggle and fight for him, but he didn't. For once in his life he was certain he'd done something right, and he was happy.
Wheatley thought of the last thing he wanted to say to her, and it was instant, all too easy.
"I-"
'...Do y—'
'It doesn't matter.'
He stopped.
"I'm sorry."
That was easy, too.
There was gunfire and blood, and both of them were gone.