Prompt: Clones have no souls. Like twins.

"So, one, I think the Rattmann needs more love.

Two. In the comic GLaDOS, taunting Doug, threatens to clone him and tells him that clones have no souls. Like twins.

My headcanon: Doug Rattmann had a twin brother who died at an earlier date, possibly during a test.

Do whatever you like with that".

Rating: T

Genre: Family/Drama

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

The third man factor

She always knew the worst things to say.

"Clones have no soul, like twins"

A memory long buried surfaced like an angry cadaver from the grave. Familiar anxiety washed over him, angrily, demanding. It was like a puzzle he hadn't cared enough to solve and now was screaming at him for answers.

He didn't know how he had been capable of forgetting about him, how much time it had passed for his mind to eradicate any thought involving his voice or face.

He shuffled through papers in the cabinet, water beginning to fill his eyes while a lump tried to strangulate him with guilt. It made the situation all the more blurry and strange, he was beginning to feel the corners of his mind rip out, the disassociation characteristic of the beginning of those panic attacks building up and up.

No, no! He didn't have time to curl up in a corner and wait for it to pass, he needed her file right now!

"Shutupshutupshutup-"

He shook his head and resumed searching, holding his fragile mental state together with scotch tape and silicon glue. Later there will be time to cry, to grieve, and to find a way out of the puzzle, right now he needed to locate her and make sure she was safe!

There it was! That single yellowish page would be the first step to getting out of this nightmare. The relief made him tremble a little, but he concentrated: he needed to arrive at the archive.

"Where are you going?"

Faster, faster. He knew the place like the back of his hand, it wasn't difficult for him to arrive, he didn't even need to think where to turn or when to dodge the vision of her cameras, he had installed them himself.

He stumbled over his own feet a few times, but he managed and finally arrived at the front door of the offices. As soon as he saw it, his soul went to his feet: the password, he didn't know the password, this was not his level, the scientists weren´t allowed to know the codes of all the door´s, only an archive employee would know what numbers to dial.

There was no escape.

"Nonononono-"

He felt the blood on his legs leave, something cold and dangerous rose below him. There were claws, maws and daggers pointed at him, immobilizing, they were going to eat him-.

Static filled his head at the image, he was too scared to remember his last dose had lost effect days ago, now he was hopeless against the monsters made of oil, if he had been in the right state of mind, he could have told himself they became worst in tense situations, and he needed to calm down. The voices, who had been comfortably silent until now, returned as soon as the torch of hope fell to the ground, the slip of paper seemed frozen on time, the single image of his only savior disappointed that even putting her on the start on the line for her to do all the job had been too much for him.

"Paranoid Schizophrenia, hallucinations, general unwillingness to work with society. Why don't you go outside and see? None of this is real".

He was too scared to cry, he was convinced he would die some way or the other. Either the worms on his head or the neurotoxin, his will to survive was draining. Come to think of it, he hadn't really been a fan of living until now, he had kept himself busy so his brain had something to chew up while he enjoyed what could only be described as a middle-class dream. He hadn't been happy, how could he? Leaving him alone with his own thoughts was a pathological danger, that's what his file said.

He clutched his head in his hands, pulling at the roots as if he were a kid. He contemplated his life now, his options. The neurotoxin was starting to kick in, he didn't know how he had survived as long with that thing in the air. He was feeling sleepy, not at all what he thought dying of asphyxiation would feel like.

He closed his eyes, relaxing for a bit. The noise in his head stopped a little, the demons probably needed as much oxygen as their host. He leaned into his side, calculating, always calculating, it was what kept him alive up there. W-was it really so bad if he just—fell asleep here? Right now?

Why keep trying? Let´s think of it. At first, there had been a pure, unaltered, primal need of survival, as an injection of liquid fire that stopped him from feeling hunger or tiredness, the only thing on his mind had been to take up a lift and get out of here.

Then, after realizing She had blocked all the exits, there had been a plan: to wake up the subject with unmatched tenacity, face an unstoppable force with an unmovable object. It had sounded good at first, but now, laying in the ground, he contemplated more clearly.

What if she (Chell, he remembered) just…didn't do it? He had no way of communicating his plan to her once it was in action, hell, he didn't even know if GLaDOS would accept a test subject he personally picked up, the thing was designed to be even smarter than the scientists who created her, she wouldn't just fall into a trap so obvious! It was the last breath of a desperate soul, of course he hadn't thought of the details.

He could feel his heartbeat slow in his ears, his nose and cheekbones growing cold against the floor. His fingertips twitched a bit at the stimulus, and he realized with relief he could still move them. There was still time but—for what, exactly?

He couldn't smash the door; he had never been a strong individual. An even if he found the strength to stand up and find a chair for assistance, there was an enormous possibility the turrets would get to him, or She would find a way to chop his head off via remote control.

Either way, he would die. But the floor was nice, wasn't it? He could almost imagine it was a real bed. His muscles relaxed; he closed his eyes. Yes, a bed, and now he was trying to sleep after a long day. That would always cheer him up, didn't it? There were no hallucinations in his dreams, sometimes, if he was lucky and had eaten enough before going to bed, he would be in control of them. Wouldn't that be pleasant, to switch controls for a while?

The air was thick, but not enough to stop the fantasy. His lab coat transformed into a blanket, the bags under his eyes were now because of the burning billboards, his messy hair another proof of a fun night on the streets. And all he needed now was a nap, a long nap to wrap it all up.

He slowed his breath, embracing his delusion. The alarms beeped in the distance, he imagined how his body would look like once he was asleep. Would She even bother to clean up the skeletons? Maybe, they had designed Her to be as methodical and sterilized as possible, She wouldn't have a problem with getting rid of all the bodies.

If he didn't do this, Her reign of terror would continue. All of the test subjects, poor souls who were stupid enough to trust a company whose only guarantee was that you would be back home, sometimes in one piece, would be subjected to Her calculated cruelty. Now that he didn't have anything to lose or someone to judge him, he could admit that he didn't care much, he had never met them.

Well, what about the people on the surface? She would eventually run out of lab rats, it´s not a stretch to think She would go up there and harvest some innocents when Her portion proved inefficient for her needs. Was there anyone up there on the surface waiting for him? His condition had pushed all his loved ones away, no one had bothered to mingle with a person who saw things that weren´t there and needed constant reassurance that the world inside his head was not real; they had been disappointed, tired. No one was waiting for his return.

The armor he had developed during those turbulent times prevented him from feeling anything else than just relief. By the time She went about calculating the means of extraction, he would be long gone, that wouldn't be his problem anymore. A ray of anguish filtered through the cracks at the thought; he really was a monster. He was not fit for saving anyone.

The knot began to untangle, the air was silky and surprisingly, not heavy. The soft caress of unconsciousness brushed his hands, his neck, his legs. He embraced his fantasy once more, accepting fate. He could have never made it anyway.

He had never been a hopeful person, life had proven to him that hope only made the inevitable hurt more, but for now, he left himself have hope. Hope for the girl to escape, maybe in 1000 years, maybe in 10, he hoped she would fit her purpose without his help, he hoped she would defeat Her before she ran out of test subjects. He hoped that the people up there would find a way of defeating Her once she arrived, he hoped for his loved ones to forget him with time.

Or not. After all, he would be dead by then, and dead people, don´t hope.

Something tapped his shoulders. He felt as if his soul had returned to his body with a loud smack, and he immediately stood up, resting his back on the wall. The neurotoxin had almost filled the room, how much time he had been laying down? He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, focusing his bleary gaze on the code pad beside the crystal door.

He didn't feel entirely himself, which made him think he had woken up to another set of hallucinations, there was an almost dreamy quilt wrapped around his senses in all of them, making them easy to identify.

He felt something different this time though, a presence. There was fog burning his eyelids and he felt as if his brain was melting in a bowl of soup, but there was certainly someone there. And apparently, he was trying to talk to him.

"Hullo! Looks like you are in a bit of a problem, mate".

He looked up. That voice, the voice. It was not possible.

"Ugh, not gonna lie, you look like you went to hell and back, haven´t you been shaving as I taught you? Your hair is a mess too. A shower would suit you right now, wouldn't it? I think the showers are next to the recreation field if I am not mistaken—I could, but, as you know, it´s difficult for me to make mistakes. Let it to your big brother to be right 80% of the time, that´s why I have you though, to cover that 20% area of opportunity. The opportunity is for you, if you couldn't tell, just to rectify".

Where was he? He couldn't spot it in the room, but he knew he was there, this was not just another auditory hallucination, he felt his voice ring in his ears, the distortion caused by the big, empty room moving the vowels away from each other. And that accent…he thought he had forgotten about it, not even his dreams housed such vivid detail. It was as if he was standing there next to him.

"Oh, we have a lot of catching up to do, don't you think, Doug? How much it has been, four, five years? I can´t really tell, you know, I am going to spoil you the experience a bit—it sometimes feels as if just mere seconds had passed, and sometimes it´s like millennia! Like waiting for the bus, mental, don´t you think? But enough talking about me, it´s you I want to talk about!

So, how have you been? Do you still live with your mum in that crummy apartment? I sure hope not- Don´t take me out of proportion or anything, but I never really liked your mum. She is uhh, a bit weird. I am sure she is a great mum and all, keeping you blind to my existence for some years, but still, I don't really like her vibe, with all the symbols and esoteric signs placed on your fridge. Maybe it´s natural, now that I think of it, she never liked me either, which is fair really, I don't blame her, I think if I had been in her position, I too would have had some beef with the oldest son of my husband which I never really knew about.

Wow, I hadn't really thought of it, but bloody hell, our old man sure was busy, huh? Ha, I could never be in time with a schedule like his! First, wake up, shower, have the portfolio ready and get little Wheats to school before 6, then, hop onto the first ocean liner and travel all the way to Michigan, preferably before 8. Kiss the wife good morning, read the newspaper, greet a little baby Doug and then take a cab to arrive at work at 10, where Mr. Jhonson will be waiting for you. After you spend all day stacking papers, go back to your wife, greet the baby, and sing them lullabies so they can´t hear you sneaking out of the house. Take the last ocean liner, hop into a can again, arrive home, teach your little guy how to make quadratic equations so he can do his homework with help of his pops. Then go to sleep and repeat over and over again! No wonder he died young, he practically lived as twice as recommended, haha!"

"Wheatley?" he interrupted, grasping at nothing "W-what are you doing here?"

"I already told you" He answered in a tone of reprimand, as if he was angry he had to repeat himself "It looks like you need a bit of help here, don´t you think?"

He felt the presence moving again, this time towards the crystal door. He swore he could see his face, expectant, framed glasses standing crookedly from a long, thin nose.

"Mr. Rattman, your presence is needed here. I know I told you we had a lot of catching up to do, but you know, things get complicated out of nowhere sometimes, so why don't we catch up while we dial the code? It could be fun, my co-workers always said I was a genius at multitasking, maybe you can learn a thing or two".

His head was swimming, fading. The voice was still real, but the force had been draining from his legs while the apparition spoke. He didn't know if he could make it to the offices.

"H-hey, Doug, look at me. I know you are feeling dizzy right now, but we have to start moving. The thing is not going to solve itself, you know. That would defeat the purpose of a lock. C´mon, I know the password, I used to work down here, remember? In fact, we used to work down here! N-not in the same field, of course, never was good with Chemistry, I remember failing the final 2 times before some bloke sold me the answers. And what a bargain, 2 pounds for saying goodbye to Ms. Mackwell forever! I do not regret it, that was a good investment".

He had almost forgotten about that. Their dad had occupied some kind of important role in the company before his early passing, and as it turned out, he had gotten the two of them a job as an emergency plan, it was as if he knew he was going to die soon. He had met his half brother there, a googled-eyed giant who talked too much for his taste, and on top of that, seemed completely enthusiastic about getting to know his long-lost half-brother, even with the implications his existence brought to the table. He was too stupid for his own good.

"Come here, slowly, don't want you to fall halfway through, you could break your leg in the state you are in. There, there—oh, t-there is a chair blocking the path, dodge it! Yeah yeah, now we are talking! Come here, put your hand in the monitor…there we go, wasn't that easy? Okay, so, repeat after me: 1-1-2-2-089. Got it? Let me repeat it, 1-1-2-2-089. Aaaand there we go, open sesame!"

Deathly fumes escaped the glass door in an instant, he had been leaning his poor figure on it and as a result, he fell right in his face, probably breaking his nose. A strangled yowl of pain was swallowed by the floor, the intake of breath made him realize that he was finally breathing normally again, long exhales drowning his thirsty lungs in a waterfall of oxygen. He sounded like a seal taking his first breath.

His mind was clearing. The mystic fog characteristic of his hallucinations vanished, and he laid there, astonished and relieved that he was alive.

"Oops, don't want you to forget about this, do we?"

Her file appeared in front of him, seemingly washed over by the wind coming from a vent. Although her photograph hadn't changed, she didn't seem disappointed anymore, just determined. She had given him another chance.

He tried to locate him again, and this time, he was visible. He was there, as gangly and smiley as always. A tornado of questions, pleas, and acknowledgments overtook him, his eyes watered at finally seeing him again.

"Why are you here?" he said, thinking with his heart "Aren't you supposed to…transcend? To leave?"

"I´m afraid I can´t, mate. There are so many things that seem…lost. I don't know, it´s if I am me but not all of me? Like if something, a part of me, is locked away somewhere, don´t really know how to describe it—but anyway, I was there, walking about, trying to find it, and then I saw you fidgeting with the keyboard, and I said, hey, isn't that good old Doug boy? What is he doing here, all alone? And then I decided to help you and all that. You seem really keen on saving that test subject, don't you? I think I saw her a couple of times on registration, a nasty piece of work she was, always screaming and grunting, I would recommend for you to find another one but hey, to each their own. Do you think that when she wakes up, she will help me find it, that other me? I seem to have lost it some time ago, maybe after the transfer. By the way, do you know what happened after the transfer? Everything feels like it has gone through a blender up here, maybe I should notify the research team about the side effects. Just tell mum I´ll be back by Monday, okay? She hates when I don't call her, she´ll probably think I died or something":

This was too much, too much. He gritted his teeth, tasting hour-long beans with underlying sickness. So he didn't know? He wouldn't be the one to tell him. That other part of him probably had been roaming around the Facility without a care in the world for 5 years and he would never be able to find it. Anguish broke him once again, and without the threat of Neurotoxin on his mind, he cried, face hidden between his arms.

"H-hey, don´t be like that! I hate when people cry, I-I don't know what I am supposed to do! Do I just stand here, how do I make it stop? Nono, wait, you must let it out right now, so it doesn't become worse later. Save your strength, something tells me you are going to need it—Yeah, good job, you are doing great! Inhale, exhale, repeat. There, we good now? How are you doing now? Better, right? Good, that´s good. It´s okay to cry, don´t let anyone tell you otherwise, that thing about boys not crying? Nah, rubbish mate, everyone cries, even the tough ones, can you believe that? A-and that´s okay, nothing to worry about. Just let it all out, one tear at a time, your big brother will protect you, okay?

I always wanted a little brother, you know. Someone I could play games with o-or go throw eggs to the principal´s office or go watch scary movies, the good stuff! I always felt kind of alone, to be honest, all of my friends had brothers or sisters while in my house I just had mum and some toys, no one to play with when I wasn't in school. That´s why when mum told me about you, I was so excited! Couldn't sleep all night because I imagined how you would look like or what kinds of things you would be able to do that I wouldn't a-and what I would teach you and all…I was scared you would hate me. But then I saw you, you little thing, and I said wow, I have so much to learn from this guy! I just was really glad you were as scared as me like you also didn't know what to expect. I try to not think about dad´s life too much, but I think he was planning on introducing us to each other at some point. Maybe he thought I wouldn't be as good of a big brother as me or something, but either way, I am glad I got to meet you. I just wished we had more time—like another week or something".

He looked up. Blue eyes, similar to his own, sprayed sunshine on him, the touch of affection and kindness he hadn´t admitted he was starving for hitting him with full force. For once, the world didn't feel as unforgiving and unfair. A complete stranger had been there, caring for him for the sole reason of sharing a blood bond without expecting anything in return. He searched in his eyes for forgiveness, for strength, and for answers, not knowing how to put its essence into words.

He smiled back and tapped his shoulder, reassuring.

"Well, now that that is taken care of, I am afraid I have to go. Don´t hesitate to call for help though, I may be here for a while. Until then, I think there is an angry test subject waiting for you over there, you don't want to keep her waiting, she got mad the last time someone took too much time with her meal".

"No, please!" He blurted out before he felt him vanish, leaking his presence between the metal walls. He yowled again, alone and mortified, seemingly finally free of his psychotic episode. He took her file and squished it in one of his palms, once again defeated in the face of impotence.

Seconds passed, the noise in his head returning. What had just happened? Some kind of message from the underworld? The possibility of all just being a hallucination formed by his still alive and kicking will survive reminding him a password was rising, but he didn't have time to ponder now. He had things to rearrange.

"Have you come back to your senses, Rat Man? We can do this all day, I locate where you are and direct neurotoxin through the vents, then you find another room and the circle repeats itself. I am not running out of poison anytime soon, so who do you think it´s going to fall first?"

"Shut up"

He dialed her number slowly, making sure things aligned. To his surprise, it seemed that She was not directly connected to the data banks, at least not fully. She wouldn't know what he moved or discarded, She was just following orders, as much as that may upset Her.

He fled out of the room, any prior thought involving defeat and surrender abandoned him. The girl was in position, so know it was just a matter of waiting for Her to make her next move. The maze wouldn't be as easy for her to navigate, so he went on making preparations and collecting as many office supplies and paint as he could, along with some bottles of water and cans of food that would prove vital in the near future.

As he avoided turrets and recollected items, he couldn't help but pray an omen to his kin. Wherever he was, in limbo or heaven, he hoped he would find peace some way or another, that he would forgive him for being such a coward, he prayed he would live up to the expectations of his older brother.

He wouldn't give up again, even if this determination made him end up like him.

A/N: Hello dear readers, we meet once again! I am having trouble meeting my 10-day uploading schedule, sorry for that, there are things in the real world that need my attention and sometimes I just am not in the mood for writing x_x

I know the prompt above suggested Doug having a twin, but I thought putting a character we already know about in that position would give me more stuff to work with, and I had never seen Wheatley and Doug related in any other fill so yay me for writing something original! This turned out to be larger than I thought it would, but sometimes the story needs more pages to develop itself.

Now, on to the Third Man Factor: from what I have seen, it´s this phenomenon in which, and I quote, "people at the very edge of death often sense an unseen presence beside them who encourages them to make one final effort to survive. This incorporeal being offers a feeling of hope, protection, and guidance, and leaves the person convinced he or she is not alone". I am a fan of readers having their own interpretation of what I write, but yeah, I basically based this spiritual encounter on this.

Also, if you couldn´t tell, what Wheatley is looking for is um—his brain scan: core Wheatley. I didn't know how to incorporate it into the story, but he went missing after it (someone doesn't seem to know how to put a man together as well as they said they did) some time ago and Doug felt kind of guilty about not even trying to have a real connection with him and not looking for him afterward. So I think they made amends here, a happy ending for everyone!

Thank you for reading, sorry for the long note! I sometimes can´t help it hehe.