Chapter 44, everyone, and happy Cinco de Mayo! With that, welcome to the first-year anniversary of this fic! :D I need to get busy on this thing….

We also reference Michaela-Le-Mongoola's Portal fic "The Human Vault" here, which is a good story—go check it out. :)

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Portal © 2007 Valve

She was woken by a low groaning.

She sat up, terrified that it might be some rotten monster trying to sneak up on her or the facility caving in on itself—but no, it was neither of those, she saw when she noticed Maxwell stirring.

"It's about time," she scolded, popping up and crossing over, scooping up the portal gun as she went. "Come on, let's go."

She reached his side as he rubbed at his face. "What happened?" he asked, before glaring up at her with suspicion. "You didn't hit me again, did you?"

"I have more pressing matters than your well-deserved punishment," she said, stepping over him and heading for a passage she had earlier identified as a viable means out. She reached the door, paused, turned to face him. "What, you don't remember anything?"

He had been struggling upright, but stopped to give her an I can't believe you're that stupid look. "Sure," he drawled. "I remember everything—that's why I asked what happened; I wanted to see if you did."

"Whatever," she said, waving him off. "Now come on—we lost enough time with you fooling around."

There was a definite problem with this last year, in that Max's superior was no longer the proper Mr. Johnson. Instead, he was stuck with this…goon Lucian, the maggot that walked like a man.

Charlie didn't like him either, the way he eyed her like she was a piece of meat…it took all of Max's self-control not to punch his lights out whenever he did—he might not be fired, but he was certain Lucian could make his last months on the job miserable.

So he made sure to be between Charlie and Lucian at all times, including when they were in the recording studio, which had required moving the mikes around, which irritated the sound boys, but who cared what they thought?

Not that he was able to catch every sly glance and dig—the kind that made Max want to relocate every last one of Lucian's teeth. But Charlie brushed it off, was very good at brushing it off—worryingly so.

It occurred to Max that she must have encountered this sort of thing every day before she met him—and after they separated.

Again, it made him want to kick himself for ever prompting their separation.

On the positive side, Charlie could give as good as she got, prompting rounds of snickers from anyone within earshot and causing Lucian to flush beet red. Ah, Max wished he had a camera.

And Charlie had been right—being together was making things fly faster, getting their old camaraderie back and building off of each other like they used to. And recorded for posterity, on top of that.

He was at his best, on top of his game right now, slinging zingers left and right and sounding like he had in years past, before the years of employ here had made him bitter. Ah, bliss.

Which meant that it had to at least attempt to go sideways.

Lucian had managed to catch him one day, buttonhole him in one of the offices.

"It's come to my attention your contract is about to expire," Lucian said.

"Wow," Max said drily. "He can state the obvious—good for you."

Lucian stayed straight-faced, although his neck started to color—over the past several months, Max had found every possible way to get under his skin, and he was now attempting to beat his best record in making him crack. Let's see if he beat it.

"I was thinking about renewing your contract," Lucian said.

"Aw, you would miss me," Max said, stopping short of grabbing Lucian's nose and swinging him back and forth by it. "But alas, I have prior engagements. Ones that don't involve you."

"Oh yes, you're lovely…ex-wife."

Max eyed him narrowly. "You'd better drop the ex there."

"Oh, but I had heard you were estranged," Lucian said, smiling—oh boy, he was detecting an in and going for it.

"Temporarily," Max corrected. "But then she saw you and said 'ew, I don't want to be single with that in the pool.'"

Mwaha, successfully turned back.

"Funny, I always thought she was desperate, marrying someone like you," Lucian said. "Ugly inside and out and nearly twice her age—tell me, did she do it because she didn't want to be an old maid? Or maybe you got her remarkably drunk one night—no wait, I know: hypnotism. Isn't that what you stage magicians do?"

Max's temper flared, and it was only through a great deal of self-control that he didn't throttle Lucian right now. "And that right there," he said, struggling to keep his voice jovially insulting. "Is why I'm not signing on for another year with you people."

And with that, he turned on his heel and retreated for the recording studio. Charlie was already there, looking at him with concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like you just hit someone."

He braced himself against the little music stand and forced himself to take a deep breath. "I wanted to," he admitted. "But common sense and that little voice that sounds like you intervened."

"Aw, I have my own little voice inside your head?" she asked, shuffling the papers.

"I'm surprised it didn't agree with me—punching Lucian seems like an endeavor you'd enjoy."

"I can't punch him—I'm a lady."

"So what's the option available to you?"

She gave that some long thought. "Waiting until we're in a crowded bar and then screaming that he's trying to violate me."

Max couldn't help the eyebrow that snuck up. "Uh…huh," he noised, glancing at the sound guys—still fiddling.

When he spoke to her next, it was in an undertone. "Charlie, why did you marry me?"

"Huh?" she asked.

"I want to know."

She looked at him for the longest time, then finally smiled and came over, hugging him tightly.

"I married you because I love you," she said. "With your eagerness and how nice you were…and your goofy glasses."

"My goofy glasses?" he echoed, lost.

"Yes, those goofy glasses on top of a beanpole. You were adorable."

"You married me because I was adorable," Max repeated, deadpan.

"It was a contributing factor."

He couldn't help but sag at that.

She hugged him tighter. "Listen, I love you, and nothing's going to change that. I loved you when we parted ways, I loved you while we were apart, I love you now." She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. "Besides, with a mook like Lucian around, I don't dare be single."

"See, that's what I said," Max said.

"Don't tell me he got to you."

"He was the one I wanted to punch."

"Did you?"

"I had words with him. Pointed ones."

"Maybe we should lure him to a bar."

"I kind of like that idea."

"We need a sound check," one of the studio guys said.

In response, Charlie reached up and pulled a microphone down to her.

"Testing, testing," she chimed, mouth close to the mike. "I'd like to have it put on the record and played a dozen times a day: one Charlize Cameron Carter loves William Maxwell Carter. And Lucian Johnson can go jump off a bridge."

"Motion seconded on all counts," Max said, leaning into the mike.

"You have to say it."

He smiled at her, marveled at how she could dispel anything bad happening to him.

"I, William Maxwell Carter, do love and cherish one Charlize Cameron Carter," he said. "And Lucian Johnson can get hit by a freight train after he jumps off that bridge."

She laughed, and they hugged and kissed, despite the noises of disgust from the sound guys.

Max ignored them.

They didn't matter.

Willow looked down into the depths, where a testing track was dashed against the rocks and half-submerged in the acid water below. Again, recordings of these people lost forever.

She sighed and continued on—musing about what was lost down here wasn't getting them any closer to where they needed to be.

"How much longer?" she asked.

"Why do you keep asking me?" Maxwell sighed, trailing after her.

"And I quote: I've forgotten more about this place than you'll ever know. So how much longer?"

"I think I liked it better when you didn't listen to me. Firstly, did it ever occur to you that that might be one of those things I forgot? Secondly, have you seen the place?" here he gestured about. "Even if I did bother to remember the layout down here, it's trashed now—probably caused by system failures when someone disabled the main computer."

"Then why am I even bothering with you?"

Maxwell's expression told her that he was reminding himself that he needed her in order to get out of here. Obviously, it was causing him quite a bit of pain to swallow most of his immediate comebacks.

"Fine," he spat. "I'll give you that one."

"Oh goody."

With that, she jaunted over to an opening in the ceiling, peered upwards…the roof of the cavern didn't seem to be getting any closer.

"Tell me this, then," she asked. "Did any elevators down here survive? You do remember that, right?"

"Terribly sorry—I was focused on fixing the parts of the facility I actually intended to use."

"How are you getting back again? Or did you like playing with bunny rabbits?"

That prompted Maxwell to stomp in an irritated circle before stopping, one hand to his forehead, one hand on his hip. Wow—normally, this would have resulted in turrets being dropped on her head. It was nice to see how much she got to him.

"There's a service elevator," he sighed finally. "Nigh indestructible, in case of emergencies." Glance about, getting his bearings…and then he pointed off at an angle to their current trajectory. "Best I can figure, it's that way."

"It's better than nothing," she said, shrugging and starting in that direction—

She froze and spun to face him.

"You do realize that if this is a trick to kill me, you'll be stuck down here?"

That nasty, nasty grin. "You do realize that if it is a trick, I still know where the exit is. So you're just going to have to trust me, aren't you?" he sneered.

"Do I look stupid?"

"You don't want me answering that question."

"You know what—stay here. I don't need you."

"Sure, you do that," he called after her retreating form. "We'll just both stay down here until you die, and then I go and find my way out anyway. And if by some quirk chance I don't yank your boyfriend out of the throne and throw him down here, then he gets to be the one to rot on that throne, going slowly insane and never giving you another thought."

That was it—she reached down, selected a manageable piece of rubble, and pitched it. Maxwell barely had enough time to react, which meant that it hit his shoulder instead of his chest. He still went down for the count.

"Listen you," she snarled, coming over to stand over him. "You are not as indispensable as you think you are, you are not as important as you think you are, and if you ever talk about Wilson again, I'm going to knock all your teeth out so you can't. Do I make myself clear!?"

Narrow-eyed glare—like he was calculating just how far he could push it.

"Inescapably," he said finally.

"Good," she said, walking briskly away.

"Hey genius!" he called after her. "Exit's the other way!"

"Remember what I said about you not being important?" she tossed back. "I don't need you—I'll find my way out myself."

She clambered up the next wall of fallen rubble.

"Fine," she heard him mutter. "Your funeral."

And yet he still followed her.

Just what she needed.