The Things We Do For Science Chapter 43: She's Not There, a Portal + Don't Starve Crossover fanfic

Chapter 43, everybody! In which Maxwell references Quantum Leap—I'm serious, the episode where Al and Sam switch places is what prompted one scene in this. And when I was writing this, I had Santana's cover of "She's Not There" on repeat, hence why it makes an appearance.

Ranter, thanks for the review! Aha, I had to look to see which chapter you meant, and to be honest, I was laughing when I wrote that scene (the idea for it came from a little sketch on DeviantArt of Chell doing the same thing to Wheatley, and it seemed to fit the personalities here :)). To answer your questions, probably because crossovers don't seem to get as much traffic as the main pages for some reason—but it makes your review that much sweeter! :)

Thanks for the review, guest! Hopefully this update fits the bill. :)

He had been over the moon that night, listening to his radio and pulling out the assorted records he had splurged on. Santana's cover of "She's Not There" played, but for once, it didn't strike him as absolutely mocking—it wasn't too late, and she was still there.

And she wanted him back—was willing to take him back.

He had slept a lot more soundly than he normally did that night.

But the next morning, all those quiet niggling doubts assailed him, and by eight o' clock, he was sitting in the waiting area impatiently tapping a tattoo on the floor, hands clenched in front of him.

A few minutes later, just as he was convincing himself she wasn't coming, she walked through the doors.

Charlie.

That absolute unpleasant knot undid itself from his chest as he jumped up and ran over to her, ignoring the glare of the secretary as he hugged her tightly.

"Miss me?" Charlie asked, returning the hug.

"You have no idea," he said, letting go and looking at her. "I thought…well, it doesn't matter what I thought—"

"You thought I wasn't coming."

"Well…."

"You know, I almost did talk myself out of it," she said, lacing her arm through his. "But I changed my mind. I can't leave you by yourself—you'd fall headfirst into a hole."

He leaned a bit so his head was resting on hers. "I'm not completely hopeless."

"Excuse me," Charlie said, addressing the secretary. "On a scale of one to ten, how hopeless do you think Max is?"

"Eight-point-one-three," the secretary replied promptly. "We've already run the tests."

"Ouch," Max muttered.

"I don't think you'll be getting a gold watch on retirement," Charlie informed him.

"Maybe I'll go into radio after this."

"Anything's an improvement," she said, patting him on the chest. "Now come on, let's get this over with."

"Come on; let's get this over with."

He scowled at her, but she ignored it, instead opting to focus on navigating yet another broken testing track, getting up to what looked like office space. Well, this was different, she supposed. And dotted with KVAS' usual insults—like they only employed brain-dead people.

"Do I dare ask?" she asked, pointing out a poster that listed all the ways one shouldn't use a swivel chair.

"OSHA requirements," Maxwell said flatly. No elaboration.

Willow shrugged and continued on her way. "I suppose anyplace that puts something like you in charge isn't all that smart to begin with," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Oh really?" he asked, angry and mocking in tone. "You mean the same place that hired your little boyfriend? And was literally the only place that would take in a louse like you—"

She spun around, portal gun at the ready, pleased to note that he flinched back when she did so. "Listen, pal," she spat. "You're not the boss of anything anymore, so stop acting like it! Right now you're riding on my goodwill, and that's about to run out so back off!"

"Excuse me?" he snapped back. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault!? Why is it my fault!? No wait, let me guess: because I didn't roll over and die like a good little test subject."

"And you killed me, and you thought it was a good idea to press a button I specifically told you not to press!"

"It's not like you ever gave me sound advice to begin with!"

"What are you talking about? I've only ever given you sound advice!"

"And I quote: jump in front of that turret—that'll be good for a laugh! Or how about why don't you just die already?!"

"And if you listened to me, we wouldn't be in this position!"

"Because I'd be dead."

"You seem hung up on that point."

"Hello?! Among the list of things I'd rather not be, dead is one of them!"

"Well, congratulations—that's exactly what you're going to be!"

She was vaguely aware of a new recording starting—and apparently, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Oh, you shut up!" he yelled, spinning to face the hidden speaker and shaking his fist at it. "No one cares! Charlie! Get this louse out of here now! Charlie!"

Willow backed up a few steps, concerned, and seriously thinking about bolting right then and there. Except she didn't—it was like watching a train wreck. She stared at him, how he had lost all composure—and apparently, sanity, if the way he was randomly yelling for Charlie as he paced about, trying to face everywhere at once.

Wait….

I've forgotten more about this place than you'll ever know.

Did he….

"Maxwell!" she yelled, before finally resigning herself to going over to him and bodily grabbing his ridiculously bony arm. "Maxwell!"

"What!?" he snarled, rounding on her.

She took a breath to make herself stay even-keeled. "Who's Charlie?" she asked—because to be honest, she really, really wanted to know.

He blinked and jerked back slightly, like he had just realized she was there in front of him—

Blinked again as what she asked registered and he processed it—

And then his yellow irises fizzed out and he collapsed on himself, falling to a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Okay," she noised, after registering what had happened and moving past disbelief. "Maxwell? Are you all right? You're not dead, are you? I'll kill you if you are."

She kneeled next to him, poked him—still bony, like it was just his skeleton and skin and not much else. His eyes were closed, and when she pulled them open, it was just gray sclera, like it had been. Funny, she remembered them being black….

I'm running on a battery right now….

Maybe that battery had finally run dry.

"Great," she sighed, sitting down next to him. Conventional means to check for signs of life wouldn't work for him, and she didn't like the idea of dragging his comatose body-slash-corpse all the way back up to his chamber. And that was it—she could be sitting next to a corpse right now for all she knew.

She shifted away slightly, reflecting that that was more than a little gross.

And, after a while, she got up and crossed over to an emaciated couch, checked it for tenants, and then flopped down on it.

If she was going to idle for a bit, she wanted to at least catch up on her sleep first.