The Things We Do For Science Chapter 60: You Are Not A Good Person, a Portal + Don't Starve Crossover fanfic

Chapter 60, everybody! Alright, back on track for now—kind of. Had to send my big computer to the shop which ended up taking a couple of months but hey, now we're back. Also got a job in the interim writing for CBR, and even wrote an article on Why We Want Portal 3, so if you'd like a sampler of my nonfiction writing take a friendly faith plate over to CBR-dot-com and check it out. :D

As I said on Ghost's Fury, I'm hoping to update this one every two weeks until it's finished, so…here we go.

Thanks for the review, Anon! Been making slow progress, but I'll never leave a fic unfinished. :D Yes…good Wilson, think about what you've done.

Thanks for the review(s?), Guest! I'm glad you're enjoying this so much. :D Oh yes do it. And yes, you did see a WX reference. ;)

Thanks for the review, Guest! I love villains like that too, and I'm glad villainous-Wilson is coming across well—writing him as the villain is hard, surprisingly!

Thanks for the review, Guest! I know, right? I kinda knew it was coming from what I had read before starting the game, but when I finally got to that point it was like "No Wheatley no!" D:

Thanks for the review, Nick! Glad you've been enjoying it thus far! And AAAAAAAA thank you to you and your friend Lea this is maybe the third fanfic I've done that's ever gotten fan art I faved it on Tumblr IT IS LOVELY AND BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU AAAAAAA! 3

S for Super, thanks for the review! Ah thank you, I'm glad you like it! It's been fun mixing the two together—hopefully it continues to please! :D

Willow and Maxwell were both steaming when they finally reached the elevator, didn't talk to each other for several long minutes afterwards.

"Now that wasn't fair," Maxwell said finally, glaring at her. "I didn't deserve any of that."

"You deserved all of it," Willow shot back. "That wasn't funny!"

"No, it wasn't funny when you set me on fire. When your hair is on fire, then it's funny."

She nearly choked holding in her next response—remember why you're doing this, she reminded herself.

And she had to remind herself why she was even bothering with this man instead of throwing him into an acid pit. She needed him to swap out with Wilson, because she could still save him he wasn't dead with the facility using his corpse as a puppet she didn't believe that she did not.

…But the alternative was the concept that Wilson was in control, had taken a swan dive off the deep end and had plans to take her with him.

Either way, she couldn't keep saying derogatory things about Maxwell, because if she did Wilson might finally snap and drop a mashy spike plate on him under the guise of acquiescing to her requests. And then where would she be?

Actually, that was a good question.

"So if there's no one running the facility, would we still be able to escape?" she asked Maxwell.

"Oh sure," he told her. "Especially if you love the smell of fallout in the morning. There's at least one nuclear reactor running the place, and if you're lucky the failsafes haven't degraded to nothing. Let's see, average human goes about four miles an hour, if you run you might make it out of the initial blast range."

That is of course assuming I didn't fix YOUR mess, Wilson snapped. Not that you really want to go up there.

"He's got a point there."

Maybe ignoring them both was the answer. That could be it.

Although she couldn't help but notice that the next three tests had thermal discouragement beams involved.

"Wow," Maxwell commented. "I don't recall being this petty."

I don't recall anyone asking your opinion, Wilson said, looking like he was perusing an instruction manual. Not for several tests now, actually.

Willow couldn't help but give Maxwell a pointed look—Maxwell gave a sort of helpless gesture, expression saying we've had this conversation. Multiple times.

Maybe he's outlived his usefulness?

"No talking like that," Willow said immediately. "No talking like Maxwell."

"Ooh, I'm hurt," Maxwell sneered—something seemed to occur to him. "Besides, it's not like you needed the help—who designed these anyway, a two-year-old?"

Like your opinion really matters.

"I think you'll find it does."

Wilson gave Willow a seriously? look—she threw her hands up and stalked off. "I'm not getting involved."

"Wow, that's a first."

"You shut up."

The rest of the test went smoothly enough.

Very nice, Wilson commented, marking something down.

"Yeah," Maxwell said snidely. "And all she had to do was pull that lever."

What lever? I'm sorry, were your eyes malfunctioning?

"Maybe. Refresh my memory on what she had to do?"

Push the butyyiiEEARGH!

Willow gasped, rounded on Maxwell, busy cackling to himself.

"What, that was funny!" Maxwell protested. "And fine, I'll pay for that later, but this was worth it."

"What was that!?"

"Ah. Well, remember how I keep telling you I can't help you with the tests?" he asked, before jerking his head at the dead screen. "That's why. I'm going to say he'll be out for a while, seeing as how that's his first time." His expression suddenly sharpened. "So now would be a good time to try staging an escape."

She wasn't sure which part of that she wanted to be outraged about, but the idea of escaping was too good to pass up—comb the available area from top to bottom, even try the elevators—but apparently with the main processor out, it wouldn't run. And the rest of the test chamber was sealed tighter than a drum—Wilson hadn't been kidding about tightening the place up.

"Well great," Maxwell muttered, finally conceding defeat and sitting against the wall. "So that's out."

"No," she said, pacing back and forth. "There's got to be something we missed. A loose panel somewhere, a crack in the wall, something."

"Much as I hate to say it, you probably put the worst person possible in charge. At least if it had been you we'd be sitting in an ash pile by now." Maxwell paused, giving that some thought. "We'd also all be dead, but I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have lingered too much."

"Can you do me a favor and just—not talk unless you have something useful to offer?"

"Probably not," Maxwell said. "You weren't the first test subject to give me the silent treatment, and honestly for like ninety-nine percent of the time I was the only intelligent person in the conversation."

She huffed, stalked away, steaming—there had to be something….

It was during the time they had escaped, when they were off the test tracks—they were taking a break, catching their breath, Maxwell ranting in the background…decided to discuss what amounted to ridiculousness.

"So if you were in charge of this nuthouse, what would you do?" she asked.

"Throw that guy in a shredder," Wilson muttered, leaning against the wall with his head back and eyes closed. Maxwell had gotten some extra volume, would go for another few minutes before finally shutting up for a while.

"Well yeah, that's a given—I'm serious."

He was quiet for a long while.

"I'd actually turn this place into a proper scientific facility," he said finally. "None of this tormenting people for kicks stuff—actual science that helps people."

She blinked at him. "Seriously?"

His expression crumpled in frustration, finally opened his eyes to look at her. "Well, what would you do?"

"Burn this place to the ground."

He sighed. "Not that that isn't a fine-sounding idea, but…." Look around. "Fine, I wouldn't want to stay here after having these experiences. Maybe a nicer scientific facility elsewhere."

"So you'd do the same sort of thing?"

"Not the same sort of thing," he said, looking down at his wringing hands. "But…I went to a lot of trouble and hard work to get…well, not here, but…to be a scientist. I don't want to just—throw it all away because one sadistic person tried to ruin it all."

"But you'd still do this sort of thing."

"Not this but—" He huffed, looked away. "Science that helps people…forget it."

She huffed and looked away as well—she couldn't see this as being anything but a reminder of their time here.

Now, reflecting on that, she thought that maybe she shouldn't be so surprised at his behavior now. If…if this was still her Wilson, then that meant he had what he wanted most handed to him, and wouldn't he be the fool to let it go?

Except he was a fool for holding on, and she couldn't seem to shake him of it.

Sigh, go back to in front of Maxwell, sit down. "So we don't have the escape opportunity now—is there a chance we might have one later? Where there's a chance the area behind the curtain is exposed?"

He wasn't looking at her—glanced at her, looked away again. "You mean the part where he kills us."

"What?"

"What what? Was I speaking in code or something? The facility will be getting tired of us, will be feeding him the idea of getting rid of us. Me for being the outmode and you for being…well, you. Eventually he'll go with that idea."

"You're saying Wilson will kill us—kill me." She shook her head. "No. You, maybe, but—"

"But nothing. Refresh my memory on how you ended up down in the dumps with me in the first place."

She huffed, looked away—didn't have a counter to that.

"Didn't think so," he sneered. "Eventually he'll come around to the idea that you're more trouble than he's worth and cut his losses. Hopefully sooner rather than later."

She glared at him. "He'll be killing you too, you know."

"Yeah," he muttered, brushing down the front of his jumpsuit like he was searching for pockets, finally giving up on that; looked at her. "But the last time I was in the position to make that decision with you—last two times, actually—you escaped. Think you can make it three for three?"

She blinked; considered. She had been telling him to come up with something that got them out, and she couldn't argue with the fact that this was it.

The only problem was, this plan hinged on the concept that Wilson would try to kill her.

I don't want it to be true, she thought looking across the test chamber to the dead screen. I don't want it to be true, but I know it's likely. I might be blinding myself to the possibility because I don't want to think about what that means—that the Wilson I know is gone.

That I might have to escape this place on my own.

That thought hurt, worse than when she had been dropped down the shaft into the old facility—at least then she had a slim hope, that she could save him. But now….

Now she realized she might have to move on without him. Have to give up on Wilson if she wanted to escape.

I don't want to. But if I can't save him…if he's beyond my help….

Then I just have to get used to being alone and free. Focus on that—don't focus on being alone.

Focus on being free.