"The GLaDOS project," Cave announced, forcing Chell to let the words sink in. "I always said that if I die, I want you to put my brain into a computer. And…"—he let out a hollow laugh— "Well, folks, I might just be dying."
Chell's heartbeat was pounding in her ears as she felt a sudden breath of hope. Maybe this is it? If Cave becomes GLaDOS, Caroline wouldn't go berserk. They wouldn't need a Wheatley. Her stomach filled with butterflies. They could both live. They could both be happy.
"But… It's too late for me now."
Just as she'd come to expect from Aperture, she'd barely had enough time to truly register her hopes before they shattered.
"Caroline… My lovely Caroline," he said, turning to his assistant.
"No… Mr. Johnson…"
"My life's work… My dream. My gift..."—he clasped Caroline's hands— "to you."
"Mr. Johnson, I don't want this."
"It's too late for me, Caroline. But you…"
"Sir, I don't want this."
Caroline scanned the crowd for Chell. Her eyes were pleading, hoping, begging for some reassurance. Chell couldn't look into those eyes.
Not a word was exchanged between the two the whole way home.
"You knew about this, didn't you?" Caroline whispered as soon as the front door was closed.
Chell's silence was all the confirmation she needed.
"Can… Can you save me?"
"I don't know." Even if it's possible...
"Can you try?" Caroline's voice was meek. She sounded so delicate, so vulnerable, so… So unlike herself. Chell finally looked into Caroline's eyes. The eyes of a dear, dear friend.
Her heart shattered.
"I can."
Department by department, the employees of Aperture Science moved upwards to their new, pristine offices. Cave and Caroline were the last, sealing everything away behind that huge, vault door.
It was probably quite symbolic, really. Cave's own little way of showing that his faith in the work below, work he'd poured his soul and half a century into, paled in comparison to the faith he had in the GLaDOS project.
This, however made arguing with him about it harder than ever. For the first time in years, Caroline saw that old spark in his eyes. That spark, that once glorious catalyst, now completely overpowered his frail and feeble frame. It made contradicting him seem downright cruel.
As stubborn as he was, the excitement of the move took its toll on Cave. After putting Caroline in charge, he very reluctantly agreed to spend a week at home, in bed.
That Monday, Caroline wore her hair differently.
"Ah Caroline," said an engineer that burst through the door, "we need you upstairs for the—"
"Caroline's not here," said Caroline.
"But you're…"
"Marilyn. Charmed."
She held out her hand for the very puzzled engineer to shake.
"What…"
"Oh yes, my dear cousin Caroline asked me to fill in for her whilst she took a quick and urgent trip to… California."
The engineer raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well in that case, Marilyn, we're going to need you upstairs to fill in for your dear cousin."
"I'm not entirely sure I can be of any help, I'm afraid. Science isn't exactly my forte," said Caroline, twirling her hair around her fingers.
"Yet you're… Stepping in... At a science company."
"Correct."
"What exactly is your forte then?"
"Baking."
There was almost an audible smash as the engineer's patience flew right out of the window. "Right. Caroline. With me. Now."
With a groan and a sigh, Caroline followed.
On Tuesday, she headed straight for Chell and Wheatley's office rather than her own.
A different engineer burst through the door. "Ah, there you are, Caroline. We need you for—"
"No Caroline 'ere, mate," she said in her very best Cockney accent. "I'm, uh, Mrs. Stephens. Wheatley's mum."
"Wrong accent," Wheatley whispered, disguising his words with a cough.
"I've flown all the way out from Bright— Bristol to see my son at work," she continued, now very poorly attempting to imitate Wheatley.
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
"And you both cleared this with Mr. Johnson?"
"Yep. Yeah. All cleared. Completely fine. Nothing to worry about." Wheatley interrupted, mostly to spare his ears from what was essentially the genocide of his accent.
"Right." He smiled. "So, Mrs. Stephens, how are things back in Bristol?"
"Well, uh," Caroline began, "we're still… In the south-west of England… Still… Still straddling that good ol' River Avon. You know?"
"Uh huh. Okay."—The engineer sighed—"Caroline, you're fooling nobody. With me."
Once again, Caroline shuffled along with a sour look on her face.
On Wednesday, Chell went to Caroline's office instead. She had her hair loose around her shoulders and wore one of Caroline's dresses, though she'd cleverly switched the heels that usually went with that outfit with a less-ungodly pair of flats.
"Oh, thank God you're here, Caro—" A third engineer trailed off as Chell turned around, a sweet smile painfully plastered on her face.
"Hang on, aren't you that Chell from testing?" he asked.
"No, I'm Caroline," Chell said.
"She's actually doing this," the engineer muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed, then looked straight at Chell. "Right, where is she?"
"I don't know what you mean," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes.
"You damn well do."
"Not a clue."
"Chell."
"Caroline," Chell replied with a wink.
A second engineer popped his head through the door. "She's up in testing again," he said.
"Thank you."
On Thursday, to nobody's surprise, Cave Johnson hobbled through the doors. After firing the first three people that told him that he "should really be in bed", he fell into Caroline's arms.
"Sir, you—"
"Caroline, if you finish that sentence I swear I will work an all-nighter just to spite you."
"Yes, sir."
Cave positioned himself so that his arm was around Caroline's shoulders, leaning on her for support.
"Not that I'm insinuating that you're not fit for work, sir…"
"Good."
"But why exactly are you here?"
"Science, Caroline."
With the help of his assistant, Cave managed to lower himself into his new office chair.
"Besides," he continued, "new floor, new pre-recorded messages to make."
Despite herself, Caroline allowed the tiniest of smiles to tug at her lips. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson."