He was prone to panic attacks. He couldn't explain it – or, rather, he could, but was far from willing to admit, even to himself, that there were still traces of the Chassis's paranoia in him. He sat up in the middle of the night, half expecting her to come down stairs wielding the portal gun that she'd kept hidden until the opportune moment. He panicked when she wanted to plug him in and let him charge. He was convinced that she would leave him plugged him, half-dead, and do away with him. He fought her once, wrapping his fingers around her wrist as she reached up to access his port. She glared at him, unwavering when he pushed back, her eyes wide and fearful and warning him, but then she'd seen the look on his face – terrified and terribly sorry – and she'd stopped, setting the cord on the table between them.
He looked between it and her, his hands trembling. It was there, that poison voice in the back of his mind that constantly hissed her plans at him. He worried at his bottom lip as the thoughts pushed through his mainframe. "She's going to get you. She's going to get you. Get her."
He backed up, settling back into the couch and shaking violently. It was never hard to ignore that faint voice – he never wanted to hurt Chell – but just the fact that it was still there frightened him. He took a deep breath and looked up to find her standing over him, smiling apologetically and resting a hand atop his head. They'd ended the night together in each others' arms, a silent promise that neither one was going to abandon the other. He let her plug him in and they fell asleep together. It was the act of ultimate trust for him then, to let her lay with him as he was asleep and vulnerable and unable to do anything.
There were many nights like this, though not all of them ended so pleasantly. More often than not, it would end in a shouting match that dredged up each opponent's worst fears and memories; they each dealt their most painful blows, and the night would end in anger and bitter tears.
But, for the most part, things were pleasant between them, despite the challenges. On nights when neither one of the were at fault – instead, their past haunted them – he was allowed in her room, to sit quietly with her on the bed, cradling her as she shuddered in his arms. Other times, she comforted him, holding him close as he rambled out his senseless stream of apologies as he pressed his face into her stomach. She touched his hair, his face and his hands; she rubbed small circled into his shoulders. It was a reassuring touch that told him that they were on equal ground again. She grabbed his hand as he sat sullenly in front of her, legs crossed, boney knees sticking out at odd angles. She raised his hand to her mouth and gently pressed her lips to the pads of his fingers. He watched in mild confusion as her lips curved into a smile against his hand.
He didn't get this one. He understood most of her gestures: the hand holding, the rocking, the general closeness – he knew these affectionate gestures from his days working with the humans at Aperture – the month or two he'd spent monitoring the testing track had taught him about Human comfort; the time he'd spent working with Aperture's potential customers had taught him that hand holding, hand shaking, it all had to do with familiarity. But this was new.
He pulled his hand back, smiling nervously. He wasn't an idiot, though – it was obvious that, whatever that lips thing was, it was supposed to convey affection. He shifted uncomfortably. Affection, as nice as it was, especially from her, was still foreign to him. It hadn't come as a surprise to Chell that he had hardly been shown the bare minimum of kindness at the facility, let alone affection or compassion. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that this level of familiarity was something he'd never experienced before, having been so accustomed to being kicked around.
She pulled him forward gently and leaned in to meet him, planting a kiss on his cheek. She felt him stiffen underneath her, his muscles tensed and unsure as she backed away. The look on his face was priceless, and she couldn't help but grin. His features expressed a slight pleasure, but pure and utter confusion dominated his expressions, showing through the half-smile and evident in the fact that he didn't keep his gaze still for more than a few seconds. She placed another kiss on his forehead and heard the small noise he made when she did so, chuckling softly as she lay down in her bed, burying herself under the covers. He sat there, absently trying to decide what the appropriate response would be. Silently, he moved around the side of the bed and sat behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, smiling contentedly as she drifted off to sleep. He wasn't quite sure what that was all about but, he decided, he liked it.