Prompt: Wheatley

"Today is my birthday, and I want to know what Wheatley is thinking! On life, on Chell, on anything. I'm not fussy; sphere, android, human, whatever (though slight preference for non-evil). Just let me take a peek inside his moronic little head :B"

Rating: K+

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

I do not intend to take ownership of anything more than the story presented here. Portal belongs to Valve.

"Open up"

The realization of being outside the labs didn't hit him until she found them a place to rest in the outskirts of a possibly desolated Ghost-Town.

While she was accommodating some century-old blankets and trying to get the water system to work, his processors redirected the energy from his legs to his brain, recalling the events that happened between being the massive and monstrous boss of Aperture Science and waking up in the arms of someone he swore had let him go to his doom in the dark side of the moon.

He discovered he had a Black-Box feature too, and in the time that had taken his CPU to recover from being suddenly ripped off the mainframe, it had shown him with very fine detail a first-person view of the final battle between the girl and his emotional yet dangerous self. Without the veil of false betrayal and simulated but at the same time very real sadness, he could see the scenario displayed below him as not a riot, but a desperate attempt at getting him on his senses.

The shame at hearing himself say things so exaggerated to the point to when he believed whole-heartedly that her not catching him (even though they barely knew each other at that point, and that if she had had the intention to catch him would have resulted in a few broken bones) ate his nonexistent stomach and made him want to curl into a ball in hopes that the moment would just disappear from his memory. Their memory, in fact.

So, when the first thing he saw was her face, beaming with the joy of seeing the sunset for (possibly) the first time, he was tempted to run away in hopes that she would just forget him with time. But no, she didn't give up when she held his hands in the vacuum coming from the portal or even when She surely tried to convince her of letting him stay in the Facility for his rightfully deserved punishment, she would not let him go running through the wheat field with no other explanation than "Sorry, um, just, got to go! Have a good life!"

It was as if seeing the sky or feeling the breeze wasn't enough to change his way of solving (evading) problems that had kept him in one piece underground. Neither did standing up and following her to God-knows-where-but-far-from-here, the sight of her guiding him to the unknown was too reminiscent of the way their partnership had started.

She didn't say anything to him in the journey, just occasionally looking over her shoulder to see if he was still there. For his part, he remained silent and at a considerable distance, admiring the scenery before them in an attempt of not thinking about what she was planning to do with him. He asked himself if she was expecting him to follow her, not receiving clear signals of disapproval but still not trusting his interpretation of the indirect ones.

So now he was here, on an old couch, attempting to recall what was his original plan before sitting in the control chair for the first time. He found that as far as plans go, there really hadn't been much of anything in his mind. He would wake a test subject, take them to the central chamber, call up a lift and positively make them deactivate all the security measures that kept Aperture equipment from escaping to the surface for him, then sing their goodbyes and maybe figure out how an apple tree looked and where to find it. He hadn't thought up much time ahead, being that the dream was a fantasy so surreal he had been sure of it being an impossibility.

But it was possible. She had made it possible.

The woman returned from the bathroom. Her struggle with the old pipes had paid off, her face was wet and clean while her hair rested on her shoulders, she was using her band as a bracelet. He looked to the side, evading her questioning gaze.

She seemed to catch his hint, making a nest of the blankets and pillows bellow the couch, on top of an ugly but very soft carpet. When she was satisfied with how padded the bed had been, she went to get her Companion Cube, her only possession, and settled it next to her, as if it were a little girl seeking protection from a teddy bear. A very square teddy bear.

Finally, she arranged some pillow-shaped blankets and put her head on top of them, giving the cube a couple of pats on one of the pink hearts, and closed her eyes, searching for sleep.

Wheatley felt out of place watching the interaction as if he was not the protagonist of a friendship with her anymore but a viewer, an inanimate object seemed to give her more comfort and protection than him, an android who was supposedly designed to take care of people.

His self-loathing escalated from there, he rested his head on top of his legs and hid his face in his arms, watching her sleeping form below. He found it odd that she was so willingly letting herself be vulnerable in front of him as if his psychotic episode had been a nightmare long forgotten.

Had she forgiven him?

If he had been in her position, you could bet he would be sleeping peacefully with the knowledge that his former friend was serving as a new type of batter of whatever gory recipe GLaDOS would have come up with by the time he was outside, completely secure in the fact that she would never hurt him again. And even if he had been forced to travel along with her, he sure as hell wouldn't have let her sleep near him.

He wouldn't have forgiven her.

He saw her rise from the blankets, she had probably noticed that he was thinking of something. He hid his face in his hands again, simultaneously preventing her from asking something and (hopefully) giving the illusion he was asleep, or whatever she thought he did to recharge.

Her silhouette remained there, and after a few moments, the filthy mattress gave a quiet thump to indicate she had lost interest in his insomnia.

But before he could go back to his misery while observing her sleeping form, he hears her clear her throat, less like she needs water and more like she is trying to grab his attention.

He tries to be oblivious, pretending innocence above his usual lack of smarts. He doesn't want to talk now, not to her, its too recent, he hasn't even planned what to say or where to begin like he usually does. Just give him more time, like some hours, or a day, or a week…a vacation period? Yeah, that sounds alright.

She clicks her tongue as she brushes his leg, and the soft touch almost makes him roll out of the couch in a panicked yelp.

"What?!"

You heard me the first time, her eyes say.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. So what? I don't want to talk about it. Go to recharge or something, I´m sure that teddy bear of yours will ensure you have a nice rest" he says, unintentionally giving away a bit of what he was thinking about.

She looks at him confused before she puts the pieces together and signals to the cube, but he once again has already hidden his face in hopes of her following his advice. She is not having it.

"What's on your mind?"

The sound is awfully scratchy, but quiet too, like the paws of a mouse moving through an old carpet. He has heard her make sounds before, like when recovering from a nasty fall or when she grumbled with anger when he inevitably got them lost down there, but it was never a sentence.

"What?" he says, even though he heard her loud and clear. It's mostly out of disbelief than actual clarification, she seems to notice this.

Back in the test chambers, he imagined often what her voice would sound like when the vote of silence was broken. He would imagine her thanking him for everything and maybe explaining some things, sometimes they got to have a real conversation, even if in his fantasy he was the only one doing the talking.

He tries to elaborate further, wanting to ask her so many things about her voice like why you are talking to me and why does it matter you are finally doing it, but the look she gives him communicates that she didn't use her voice for him to ask. It was for answers.

The dam breaks. He isn't accustomed to keeping things inside, maybe because of programming. It's something he just does, saying everything that is on his mind, particularly if it bothers him. Her question is the perfect excuse, but he still wants to have time to plan one million scenarios if things go wrong with his sudden honesty.

He grumbles and tries to not show his amazement at her not-so-damaged vocal cords, tightening his body into a ball and turning away from her.

Another touch, this one more insistent, makes him look at the woman in front of him and he notices that her genuine interest is not accompanied by annoyance. She just wants to know what is keeping him awake now.

"What do you think?" He says, his bratty tone only serves as a shield in case apparent good intentions turn against him.

She notes his sarcasm and turns her head side to side.

I don't know, she frowns.

There is so much he wants to say. That he thinks she is crazy for bringing him along, that he still doesn't think they are on good terms (probably never be), that he is ashamed of the way he treated her, but most importantly, that he wants to apologize but doesn't know-how.

At last, he comes up with an answer.

"I'm scared" He mutters, still not meeting her eyes. It sounds ridiculous coming from him since just a few hours ago he was the one to fear, but his core programming can't help itself at saying more or less what he is thinking.

He waits for her to use that new voice to laugh mockingly at him.

"Why?"

At this he looks at her like she just turned into a mantis-men, eyes bulging in disbelief.

"Why? What?! You were there with me! Everything that happened down there, the transfer, the lift, t-the testing! I booby t-trapped the stalemate button! I blew up everything! You almost became a space popsicle down there! She almost killed me! And you…saved me. And I don't know why"

She seems surprised like she had just remembered something important. Pretty bloody important, he thinks. But she lets him continue, noticing that he is not finished.

"I am scared about what you are going to do with me. If I were you-" he cuts himself off, deciding to avoid the whole murder-cake scenario for her sake "I-I mean, I wouldn't do it? Bring me along, that is. Don't even start about the forgiveness part, that is way out of my league"

He checks if she is still listening. She still is.

"And I´m knackered. That trip probably scraped off the soles of my boots, y´know? But you probably have it worst, being human and all"

He stares at her legs, where the long fall boots were supposed to be. He wants to ask where they got lost but bites his tongue in favor of not going to a tangent. She is listening to him; he doesn't want to ruin it.

The atmosphere has changed, now more relaxed but still not quite comfy. He needs to say the other thing, it's like a little rock on the bottom of his shoe. He must get rid of it.

"I ruined it. It feels like-like if your guts were ripped from you. I´m gutted-that's the word? I think that's the word, very fitting, I say. Not like I have guts or anything, that would be kind of gross since they would be floating inside of me being squishy and- "he bites his tongue again.

"And you were there, seconds away from freedom. And then this stupid idiot takes it upon himself to be insufferable and bossy and all goes to the drain"

He thinks she might try to comfort him, but she just nods in agreement. Huh, kind of rude.

"I thought I could. Not being a moron anymore, not conspire and sabotage the only good idea I came up with. Turns out you were not the only one disappointed lady, we were both gutted"

He didn't realize until now that she is sitting beside him on the old couch, not touching but still very close.

"I´m scared this is the only thing I can be. And I don't know if you have brain damage or you are as unfortunate in that department as me, but we don't fit together anymore. I ruined it, kapoof! All gone, the exit is in the bottom at the right, thank you for coming"

He feels like something just came out of his chest, a pleasurable sensation being a result of him following the protocols as he should instead of receiving real comfort for opening to someone else like humans do. Still, it feels good, so why should he question it?

The woman looks at him again, probably to see if he is finished. After a moment of silence in which he basks in the afterglow of simulated comfort, she stands up and goes to the end of the small lounge, he hides his face in his arms in shame for opening up. Just when he thinks she has abandoned him in favor of something more interesting to do, she returns, the big, burned, and sorry excuse for a cube in her hands.

She places it beside him on the couch while she sits on the oppositive end.

She looks at him empathetically, eyes hooded in exhaustion and patience. She is letting him continue talking.

"U-um, okay? Not sure why you thought it was necessary to leave this thing beside me, but okay, I guess. I suppose it's kind of a human ritual…what, you want me to hold it?"

She puts her only possession in his gangly arms, and he is not sure whether to refuse or to keep talking. He chooses the latter and accommodates the cube more comfortably against his torso.

"Well anyway, that's that…quite comfy, heh? I never would have imagined that- well, it doesn't really look comfy, can't blame me. But it has…something, the little guy. Or girl. Do you think it would be mad if I called it something other than it? Maybe it needs a name. Surely it can't be traveling with us without a name, it would be weird, after everything it has been through, I think it deserves it- Sorry! I didn't mean to say us! Just- you. Traveling with you. Being your friend, without the murdering part. I should probably stop saying that, it's making you uncomfortable-"

She nods no, a thing that surprises him, but greatly so. It feels good to be heard, even if it's just rambling.

But as he tries to keep the flow going, he notices that just getting it out is not enough anymore. His circuits keep putting the real issue in the front of the row, no matter how many times he replaces it. This is a problem, a malfunction that needs to be taken care of as quickly as possible, or else, the equipment may result in one or more failures regarding the firewalls that connect his stimuli of simulated emotions and protect them from being all over the place. This, Wheatley thinks, may have been useful for the scientists and their routine checkups on the equipment, it would have been a hell of a lot easier to know what exactly was wrong with a patient if the patient knew almost as much of medicine as you. Or computer medicine, in this case.

"What do I do to stop feeling this way?" he says plainly, in all his honesty he is desperate to find an answer.

In the past, he could have searched for advice in equipment more sophisticated than himself, maybe even a technician if this issue had occurred when they were still around. The best next thing now was her; it was like asking for dating advice from the person you want to date. Not that Wheatley knew anything about dating, or asking for advice, it seems.

"How do I fix this?" he murmurs to the cube in hopes of finally hearing it and confirming true the rumor of them being helpful in times of need. Surely, they would be helpful to androids too, not just humans.

"You can be optimistic about it. Use your voice to say ´Hey Wheatley, don't worry, everything will be alright! Don't put the long face, you look awful when you do that! Here we have the Sun and the wheat field, we are free! She is not chasing after us anymore, that is the most important thing. And yeah, you tried to kill me but that is history now, water under the bridge! I completely forgive you; I know it wasn't you, it was Her! She and her big and cursed body turned the best android in the world into an evil overlord, you don't have it in you to be mean and evil, you know that! So, let's just forget it all and continue with our plan, why don't we go to search for real apples in the morning? I know you would love to search for an apple tree, maybe I can even say it properly this time, or jump while I say it, two for one! I will protect you from the rain and those deer that love to eat metal flesh, and you don't have to do absolutely anything to repay me, what you have done is enough! ´"

He imitates her in a high-pitched voice, nothing like the raspy one his companion has demonstrated to have, but she seems to catch the point and rolls her eyes, not exasperated but amused.

At this, he continued, patting the hearts of the cube absently.

"And that would be great, absolutely lovely, to know that I don't have anything to worry about. It would take a lot of weight off my shoulders, like, a ton. But then again, that doesn't sound like something you would say, even if you could stretch your tongue so you can talk all that without coughing a bit, seeing your condition. Pessimistic fits better with you, a bit of realism to pop the bubble so I don't get my hopes up, don't forget my place. What about this? ´Oh Wheatley, you just don't get it. I actually didn't save you so you can travel along with me and cube. You are hopeless out here, without rails or protection from the rain, I took you with me so you can suffer for your actions! Not only I never liked you, but you also always talked too much; that little show you put down there convinced me that when the murder-deer are done with you, I will put every part of your metal skeleton to use, at least your eyes will make nice pendants. I will never forgive you, not in a million years. Now shut up before I decide to use you as jewelry before your punishment even begins´".

He is exaggerating, of course, but that doesn't mean a part of him doesn't believe she really is never going to trust him ever again; forgiveness is something not everyone deserves, worst, not everyone is able to forgive. He had never been particularly lucky, so he supposes he is on the side of the losers, again.

He hugs the cube to his chest, scared of what option she will pick. Neither of them felt right if he had to be honest.

The first one feels too easy, and he knew easy things (being granted absolute power with a quick transfer) didn't last long. It had to be difficult, like getting the nanobots to work with you, to be permanent. And she could be lying, she seemed to be a better liar than him.

The second one is even worst, ten types of worst. If she nodded her head to that one, he would have to activate the auto-destruction protocol on himself while she was asleep. He would not stay to see himself become a pair of earrings.

She appears to contemplate the two options severely, her thoughtful expression is severe. Or she just thinks he is crazy. It unnerves him either way.

"How about a hug?"

"Huh?"

As he looks up, she detangles the cube from his grasp and puts it to the side. He feels without protection, he had grown fond of the cube in such little time, it gave his hands something to do more than fidget with themselves. It maybe had to do something with the companion cube´s purpose as a whole, but now he felt a bit insecure, in the open.

She stretches her arms, signaling for him to join her. He is hesitant.

What is it with her today? Back in the facility she wouldn't talk or let him touch her, now, after all the murder scenario she wants to perform a social ritual in him, a homicidal A.I?

Then it clicks. His internal reference archive for human behavior has stayed dormant since being ripped from the chassis, it only finished healing, and now interprets the gestures and actions of his companion as if they were analyzed in broad daylight.

Comfort.

Empathy is the ability to experience for yourself, a feeling that another person is experiencing. If we perceive that a person is suffering, it is likely that we not only understand why they are suffering - sympathy - but also that we experience the suffering.

When you do a deed of kindness for another person, your brain releases certain neurotransmitters such as Oxytocin, Dopamine, and Serotonin, which not only help to counteract stress but also makes you feel happy, relaxed, and calm.

Human beings help other human beings.

Listening, being there, sharing things, embrace one another.

He slowly reaches out for her; he hasn't been hugged in…never. But he does know the theory behind it.

She accepts his shaking hands and insecure posture, little by little engulfing him in the natural warmth a machine can never hope to recreate. While he has his head on her shoulder, he starts to feel something bloom in him, like opening up but much, much better. He slowly relaxes, accommodating his arms in the silhouette of her slender figure, and he thinks he can hear her smile with relief.

"I saved you because I wanted to" she whispers in his ear. "You deserve freedom, just like me. I couldn't let you down there. It didn't feel right."

"What are you planning to do with me?" he says, unable to hold his tongue this time.

She seems to enjoy the simulated heat his core produces and adjusts herself, so her head is resting on top of it.

"Nothing Wheatley" Hearing his name for the first time in millennia sends a spark through his body "I don't have plans anymore."

The embrace continues but he doesn't feel the need to break it, her revelation calmed him down more than he wants to admit, and he asks the other question that is bugging him.

"Do you forgive me?" his voice has now the volume of a mouse´s steps too.

"I don't know" She breaks the embrace, leaving him dazed. Those chemicals in his "brain", they are playing with his programming like if it was soccer.

It's fair, he thinks. Like a middle ground between the first and second option. It's just like her to be neither one nor the other.

"Is there a chance?" He wants to know; hard work always pays off.

She accommodates the sheets on the bed below him while she signals for him to return her geometrical stuffed animal. He does, and by the time she is neatly tucked between the pillows, she answers him.

"You will have to stay to find out".

No more words are exchanged that night, at least, not at loud. His mind rages from side to side while she sleeps, both comforted by her actions and doubtful about what to do next.

She is not going to kill him, she considers him a human being, she is willing to give him a chance to prove himself.

He lays down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It feels so ethereal to all be resolved by a conversation, even more with it being a short one, it almost feels unreal. But she has made it real, it should not surprise him.

What do we do now, Wheats? He asks himself. He doesn't know, apart from trying to get those nice feelings, combined with synthetic oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. His reference software offers advice again.

Humans usually comfort in the same way they wish to be comforted.

This puts a smile on his face as he decides his next course of action.

He will stay, and little by little, make it up to her.

Who knows? Maybe one day he can be the one to hug first.

A/N: God this was so hard to finish, the prompt was too vague, and I spent days trying to come up with an ending, but I wanted to give this anon a BD present anyway!

I actually started writing it almost one month ago and couldn't for the life of me finish it. I was going to give up and try to fill another one, but things got a bit tricky with that one too and I said: "Oh well, let's get done with this!"

I am going to try to fill another one this week, I need to get more fills done, and with this pace, I am going anywhere!

I still think the ending is a bit rushed, but tell me what you think, I could use some advice, particularly with the blonde bloke, I keep picking prompts with him, but I can't get him to sound in character…

Maybe next time I will hit the nail in the head, that's how it goes right? I am going to edit this in the morning, that's for sure.

Anyway, thank you for reading!