AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hi, me again!
I'm pretty happy with most parts of this chapter. To be honest, writing this fic has taught me a lot about just how much the narcotics were taking from me. Writing this felt a lot easier than writing has felt in years - it's like a dirty filter has been taken out of my brain and I can finally think. It's amazing. Sure, the withdrawal is miserable but it's finally gotten just better enough that I'm beginning to notice the benefits of having those opiates out of my system. This fic will always be the one that reminds me of the time I got my mind back.
I don't necessarily think this is the best written thing I've made... but it's different than what I usually make. I actually didn't know I could even do different. Well, one step closer to stepping outside the box. Thanks for reading, you guys.
"Hello?" Hello, is there... is there anyone in there?" Chell slowly stirred from her nap on the couch, jumping to her feet when she heard knocking on her door. She was not used to visitors and there was something about this voice that yanked her straight in to action mode, hackles raised. It seemed oddly familiar, this voice pulling her out of sleep. She looked out the window, noticing it was dark - how long was she napping?
"I'm terribly sorry, I realize just how late it is. I'm sure most humans would be doing that sleeping thing I've heard so much about," the voice went on to say, rambling on, "you know, since it's dark, and since you... probably don't have a built in torch. Anyway, sorry, sorry, I digress. It's um, it's very cold... out here. I was wondering if... if it might possibly be alright with you if I came in?"
That voice was familiar... but different. The pitch was just a slight higher, but the accent and way of speaking were impossible to miss. No. She forced her body to move forward, staring at the baseball bat by her door before snatching it up and placing her hand on the door knob.
"Hello?" the voice called out, "there's no one in there, is there? Bugger that. I've just been talking to myself this entire time, figures, I-"
The voice instantly went silent when the door swung open. Chell took a look at the person standing on her porch - it wasn't what she'd expected to see, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was Wheatley. He stood much taller than her, definitely at least six foot three, and that made her nervous. This look almost suited him - messy, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses, awkward stance. She felt a small pang of sympathy when she saw that he was in an Aperture jumpsuit - she wondered what he'd been put through before coming here. Still, though... she kept the baseball bat held to her side, looking out at him nervously.
He smiled widely when she opened the door, "hello there! Terribly sorry to, t-to disturb you." He was visibly shivering. It was late November in the upper peninsula of Michigan, and his thin jumpsuit did little to protect him from the elements. "I was wondering if you mi-" Wheatley stopped mid sentence, eyes flying open widely when he finally slowed down enough to realize who had opened the door. He never even saw the bat, just took one single look at her face and stumbled backward, tripping off of the large, wrap around porch and in to the thin layer of snow on the ground. She flinched a bit as he fell, slipping on her slippers and walking down the stairs to check on him. He stared up at her, eyes wide with fear as she approached him. He immediately began pushing himself backward through the snow, rushing bewilderedly, "I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know this was your house!" Of course it was her house... it was the only house within several miles. Plus, Chell wasn't ready to live around a lot of people yet. She watched as his eyes finally scanned down and saw the bat. He panicked, chest heaving from the emotions and the cold air, "l-lady, listen I... I'm sorry! I, I never planned for this to happen! I thought, earlier today, I thought I'd still be drifting in s-space by this time tonight but She-" Wheatley's mouth suddenly screwed shut for a moment, before he hurried to say, shakily, "that doesn't matter right now."
Chell frowned, knowing that look. Something horrible had happened to him. She saw the way he looked up at her - he was terrified. Of her. He was a head taller than her and he was cowering on the ground. She sighed, setting the bat down on the porch and approaching him again.
He shoved himself further back in the snow, lifting his arm to cover his face and saying in a very small, panicked voice, "p-please I, I-I'm sorry! If I'd had it my way I'd still be flying around the moon, I s-swear! I... it's what I deserved, I know that, r-really!"
Chell sighed, crouching down in front of him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He yelped, yanking himself back and making small, unfamiliar noises in to his arm. Was... was he crying? That's what it sounded like.
"I w-was bossy, and monstrous, and I t-tried to kill you," Wheatley said, letting out a small cry before going on, "and I'm s-sorry, and I wouldn't blame you if you saw fit to, to kill me, but I'm hoping, just a bit, that you d-don't!" He broke down now, just crying and repeating "I'm sorry," over and over.
Chell stared at him for a moment, studying him. He seemed sincere, and very messed up. As much as she was still very angry with him, she couldn't just leave him out here to die. Damn it. Chell wasn't a murderer or a monster like She would have said. She needed to get him inside and warmed up, and he'd never follow her if he was scared of her. She didn't think she could physically force him inside. Chell reached out and gently laid a hand on top of his head. He flinched, but she kept it there, carefully petting his hair back to convey that she didn't plan on hurting him. He slowly peeled his arm from his face, looking up at her with scared, confused eyes. She tried her best to convey with a very small smile that she was going to help, without conveying forgiveness. She wasn't there yet.
He sniffled, body relaxing just a bit when he saw her face. She nodded, standing up and reaching down with both hands, holding them out for him to grab. He looked at her in confusion for a moment, before realizing what she was suggesting. He took his hands and cautiously placed them in to Chell's, allowing her to shakily help him up to his feet. She held on to his wrist, leading him toward the house and grabbing her baseball bat off of the porch. Chell held the door open, gently ushering him inside. As she shut the heavy wooden door behind them, she noted how Wheatley stood there awkwardly, silently. Silent had never been something Wheatley was good at.
He must have noticed her staring at him, because he looked down at the floorboards, twittering, "very, very nice place you've got, here. Very warm... and it's lacking that, that disgusting white stuff that was on the ground. Big, big plus, there." He slowly looked up at her, studying her face. As usual, she was stoic and hard to read - which was how she liked it. She sighed, going to her hall closet and pulling out a large down blanket. Most of the things she had, like this blanket, were in the house when she found it. She went back over to him, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the couch. She felt him flinch at her touch - he was still afraid. That was alright, she was too.
She reached up and gently pushed down on his shoulder until he was sitting. He fought her at first, not sure what she was doing. Once he was down, though, he blinked in surprise and said, "oh, this is much more comfortable than the floor I was laying on earlier!" Chell bit the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. She was not ready to laugh in front of him. She shook the blanket out in front of her before reaching around Wheatley's shoulders and draping it over him. He flinched and for a small moment tried to rip himself off of the couch, but after a moment he seemed to realize that he was getting warm. He stared in front of himself for a moment before finally unhunching his tight form and letting his back rest against the back of the couch. "Thank you, that... that's definitely much better," he stammered, before going silent again and staring at the floorboards.
Chell went over to the fireplace, grabbing some wood and adding it to the fire. She needed to warm him up as fast as possible - God only knew how long he'd been out there. Aperture was at least an hour's walk from here. When she turned around she saw a very familiar look on his face. She'd recognize it anywhere. Now that he was safe and warm, and far away from Her, his body was finally allowing him to realize the gravity of everything that had happened to him. She knew, because it had happened to her, too. When she dragged herself away from that God forsaken place and to this house, she had broken down for the first time since waking up in Aperture. Safe, where neither GLaDOS nor Wheatley could hear her.
She could already see the tension building in his face, the determined look of someone trying to not show weakness. She went over and stiffly sat down next to him on the couch, just occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She could see his shoulders tense in an attempt to stop the shaking, and his eyes had gone glassy. She sighed, slowly reaching up and rigidly placing a hand between his shoulder blades. He flinched and she pulled her hand back for just a moment, before putting it back where it was. He flinched again, but more softly. Within a matter of moments his shoulders began shaking more strongly and he was holding back some less than dignified noises. He probably didn't even understand why he was shaking and crying. He probably didn't understand anything. How the hell did this happen? She did vaguely remember Her joking about learning how to reanimate corpses - one of Her many ways of trying to intimidate Chell. Now, she wondered if She wasn't joking.
The dam broke - sobs were ripping out of his throat, now, and she could tell that he couldn't stop it. She watched him pull the blanket tighter around himself, hunching over his knees and almost screaming. Chell frowned, keeping her hand on his back and staying silent, awkwardly looking away at the wall. Part of her wanted to be a bigger comfort but the other part of her wanted to kick his sorry ass right back out in to the snow. She didn't know how to properly help him right now without compromising her own integrity. Chell kept her hand on his back, occasionally patting awkwardly, like someone that was bad with children and trying to comfort a crying child.
"I don't understand w-why, or how, or w-what-" Wheatley stuttered as he sobbed, not even sure how to finish his sentence. That was alright, Chell thought she got the gist of it. She stayed silent, letting him work all of this out. "Why THIS? Why not that, that room of s-screaming robots She was going on about? She sure seemed to like that idea! Why not just, just kill me? Not that I'm complaining about being alive, I just... I just don't understand..."
He went quiet again, just crying quietly in to the blanket. She supposed he wasn't ready to talk about exactly how She made him human - she wasn't sure if he ever would be. Chell wasn't all that surprised that it bothered Wheatley that he didn't understand Her motives. When it came to Her, ignorance was very scary. She kept awkwardly patting his back, watching him calm down almost as quickly as it had started. He was probably too tired to cry more - he looked like he was half dead. He slowly unhunched himself and leaned back against the couch again. "I think there's something wrong with this body," he mused, voice laced with exhaustion, "there's this stuff coming out of my nose, and my... lips? Keep sticking together..."
It soon dawned on Chell that he likely hadn't had any water since gaining this body, and that he just cried... after walking quite a distance. Well damn, she needed to get some water in him right now. She got up from the couch, grabbing a toilet paper roll from the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. She snatched some bottled water from the package on the floor, heading back in to the living room. She noticed how he perked up, staring at her with big eyes as he said, "oh, oh good, you came back. Was... was a little worried, there, for just a moment."
Chell sighed, sitting down next to him and trying to figure out how to convey these things to him. She ripped off some of the toilet paper, put it to her nose and blew, trying to show him what to do. Chell ripped off a bigger section for him, handing it to him and looking on expectantly.
"Uh...?" Wheatley asked, looking confused, not at all understanding why she wanted him to do that. She narrowed her eyes, as if saying 'just do it'. He flinched, "alright, alright... lets give it a go then." He bunched it up to his nose, blowing hard. He looked down at the tissue, recoiling a bit and saying, "oh, oh what IS that?! Is that normal? Am I dying?"
Chell couldn't help but smile a bit at his question. She grabbed more toilet paper and handed it to him, motioning for him to do it again. "Ugh, really?" he asked. She nodded. He sighed, putting it to his face and blowing again. His face relaxed a bit, she could tell he was finally realizing why she told him to do this. "Alright, that's... that's much better, I suppose. Erm, thank you."
She nodded, grabbing the bottle of water and unscrewing it. She put it to her lips, taking a sip to show him what he needed to do. She tried to hand it to him, and he looked at her as if she were trying to kill him. "Are you mad? I shouldn't be within thirty feet of that stuff!" She raised her eyebrow, gesturing at him with her free hand, pointing at his head and then his feet. He was not robotic anymore, he needed this water to live. "Oh, right..." he muttered, having forgotten already. He eyed up the bottle nervously, slowly taking it from her and looking inside of it. "Looks very... wet," he said worriedly, before putting it to his lips and taking the smallest of sips. She watched, waiting for it to register. Within a matter of moments he was downing the entire bottle, a bit too fast, actually. He began to choke, spilling some of it on himself and sputtering a bit as he drank, before he realized he needed to slow down. She gave him a triumphant little smile, like she'd just solved a huge puzzle.
"Alright," Wheatley said after finishing the bottle, "I can see why you wanted me to do that, now. Very clever." He sat the empty bottle down, leaning back in to the couch and looking dazed. He must have been exhausted. She could see his eyes getting heavy, but he was fighting it. He knew what sleep was, sure, but she assumed he had no idea what being tired felt like. That was alright, from the looks of it he wouldn't be able to fight it very long.
She was right - he was out within minutes. She looked him over, making sure he was out before getting up and heading to the kitchen. She sat down at the table, cradling her face in her hands and getting ready to wait. Not only was she not tired because of her nap, but she didn't think she could sleep with him in the house. She couldn't just leave him out there to die, and sure, he seemed harmless enough... but Chell didn't trust it.
Chell was in the kitchen, cooking some eggs and toast for the both of them. She zoned out a bit as she watched the eggs sizzle, thinking back to Wheatley's first night here and how much things had changed. He'd changed, she'd changed. It was a lot easier to figure out who you were when Aperture wasn't breathing down your neck, she figured. She'd woken up around an hour prior, and decided not to wake him. He probably needed the extra sleep after that nightmare.
"That smells nice," she heard a voice come from behind her. She turned, smiling a bit when she saw the massive case of bedhead that he had. She turned the stovetop off, grabbing a spatula and flipping the eggs on to two plates. She set the plates on the table, along with a third plate stacked high with toast. She sat down, smiling as he sat down and immediately began shoveling the eggs in to his mouth. Convincing Wheatley that eating was necessary was very difficult the first time, but he'd since grown to seriously love food.
He looked up at her, blinking and asking, "what're you grinning at? Do I have something on my face?" It had happened a few times.
She shook her head, just smiling, and then began eating her own eggs. As she ate she thought back to last night. Wheatley hadn't woken her with a nightmare like that since his first night here. She remembered waking up at the table to the sound of him screaming, that first night, and having to do quite a bit of miming to explain that it was a dream. It had been difficult to calm him down that first night - she was afraid to even touch him half the time, almost as if her hand would burst in to flames if she did. Last night was much easier. She still got nightmares, herself, and she couldn't stand by while he suffered, anymore. It had been enough.
She bet the moon was something that he thought about frequently. He never talked about it, though, which was very strange for Wheatley. She'd stayed awake for quite a while last night after getting him back to sleep, just thinking. She didn't know if she could help him any more than she already had, without speaking. Was she ready for that? After six months, she thought she might be.
There was a long silence, followed by a quiet, "Wheatley."
"Yes, love?" Wheatley asked, before immediately realizing what had just happened. His fork fell out of his fingers and splattered in to his eggs, and he stared up at her like she'd just sprouted an extra head. "Wait, did, did you just talk?" he asked, rushing to say, "I'm not complaining, no, about you talking! Not that it's a bad thing, though, if you can't talk and I was just hearing things. That's it, right? I was just hearing things? Good ol' Wheatley's just not used to these new audio processors."
She smiled a bit as she listened to his rambling, before a tiny smirk came to her face and she said simply, "apple."
He stared at her, mouth agape for a moment, before stuttering, "you... you can talk...?" She nodded, and he went on to exclaim, "that's bloody amazing! Do you have any idea how amazing that is? You were in stasis for a ridiculously long time, and you've not got even the smallest case of brain damage! That's marvelous, just fantastic!" he rambled, before smiling up at her and asking, "how come you never said anything before?"
She could practically see Wheatley as a core in her head as he went on and on about how marvelous this was; she pictured him moving his eye everywhere in his usual animated fashion. He was somehow less animated as a human. She thought on that question for a moment, before saying simply, "I don't speak to people I'm not sure I can trust." She didn't think that would hurt his feelings - she doubted that he expected her to have trusted him, even before he became corrupt. They never really knew each other all that well in Aperture, though she had at least grown to not fear him like she did the rest of, well, everything else in Aperture - too bad that hadn't lasted long.
"Ah, I suppose that makes sense, I-" Wheatley started, before stopping part way through his sentence and murmuring, "...wait. Wait, does that... does that mean you trust me?" Another nod. She watched as a whole slew of emotions ran across his face. Relief, happiness, fear, anger, guilt. He looked down at the table and away from her eyes, before getting to his feet and saying, "I'll um, I'll be right back." She watched as he got up and went straight to his room, shutting the door.
She sighed, giving him a few minutes before deciding that she really shouldn't leave him alone. Chell got up, heading back to his room and knocking on the door. There was a pause, followed by a quiet, "come in". She opened the door, heading inside the room and sitting down next to Wheatley on the bed.
He looked over at her for a short moment before his eyes darted to his lap. "You know, I've been dreaming about hearing you say that, or perhaps pantomime that, for years," he said quietly, "but now that you have..." He didn't seem to know how to describe what he was feeling.
Chell figured that what he was describing was guilt. She frowned, staying quiet for a moment before saying what she felt needed to be said, "Wheatley. I'm sorry that I couldn't think of a different way to get you out of that chassis." She meant that. Wheatley had been here for around half of a year, and in that time it dawned on her that there was something very wrong with that chassis. It seemed to corrupt things - first Caroline, and then Wheatley. After seeing how Wheatley responded to seeing the moon last night, she couldn't help but wish she'd been able to save her own life and somehow gotten him out of there with her.
"...What?" Wheatley asked, voice laced with disbelief, "what on earth are you sorry for?" Before Chell could answer, he was already ranting, "it was hardly your fault, was it? You couldn't have bloody well asked 'hey, Wheatley, I know you're all... evil and such, right now, but do you think you could kindly just pop out of that chassis, there?' I don't think that would have gone over well... pretty, pretty sure I would have used that opportunity to squish you with a mashy spike plate, and then I'd hate myself even more than I already do! So. So... apology not accepted, missy, because you have nothing to apologize for."
Chell watched him sadly as he rambled, taking her hand and putting it over his when he said he hated himself. "No," he said, hesitating before pulling his hand out of hers, "no, just... just... I'm going to take a nap." Wheatley swung his legs up on to the bed and laid down, facing away from Chell.
"Wheatley..." Chell tried, but was soon cut off.
"Sod off!" the former core snapped, for the first time since becoming human.
Chell sighed, getting up off of the bed and heading for the door. Her blood was boiling, all she was trying to do was help. However, the moment she made it to the door she heard him call out, "no, no, I'm sorry! Please, p-please come back I... I didn't mean it. I... I don't know why I thought that was a good idea..."
He sounded so small and sad, and frustrated. It was hard to stay angry. She paused in the doorway, hanging on to the door jam. She heard him shift in the bed, turning to look at her. She could practically feel his eyes in the back of her head, wondering if she'd stay or leave. Wheatley was almost childlike, to her. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, even after all these months. Sure, he'd gotten eating, drinking and walking down pat, but his social skills and ability to cope with negative emotions left a lot to be desired. After living with him for six months, she definitely wanted to help him... but she'd been struggling to figure out how. She hadn't been in to town many times - usually it was only when she needed something she couldn't grow herself, if it was winter, or when she needed something that would spoil. She'd get in and out as fast as possible, not wanting to talk to the people that were so interested in this new face. She did occasionally see a few things, though, while she was being quiet and pretending not to be there, sneaking around behind buildings.
She turned in the doorway to face him, seeing immediate relief in his eyes as she did. Well, it was now or never, she supposed. She put on a determined face and strode across the floor to get to him. He looked worried for a moment, but didn't have much time to react. She reached down, grabbing his ear in a firm grip and pulling up.
"Ow ow ow ow ow, hey!" Wheatley cried out, immediately sitting up in the bed to relieve the pressure on his ear, "that hurts, you know!"
Chell was pleased to see that he no longer assumed she was trying to hurt him, but right now maybe a little pain was needed. She crawled in to the center of the bed, knowing that this was the only place this would work, with his height. She kept a hang on his ear, sitting down with her legs straight in front of her, before yanking him down over her lap. He let out a loud huff as his chest hit the mattress, looking back at her in confusion. She let go of his ear, and he stayed where she'd put him, just asking, "um... what exactly are we doing? Aren't you uncomfortable, with me crushing you?"
"You're not crushing me," Chell assured him, before sighing and saying, "and we're... going to talk."
"Um... I know you're sort of new to this... this whole talking thing," Wheatley said, "and I know I'm decently new to this human thing, but I don't think this is how people usually talk?"
"That's because we're doing a bit more than talking," Chell explained, noticing that her back was already straining to stay sitting upright with someone so much taller than her over her lap. She reached for the head of the bed, grabbing two pillows and wedging them, stacked behind her back. That was much more comfortable.
"What do you mean, a bit more than talki- OW!" Wheatley yelped, jolting a bit as Chell pulled her hand back and landed it on his backside. "You, you hit me!" he proclaimed in very real surprise.
Chell was actually relieved to hear the surprise in his voice. "No, I spanked you," she clarified, "there's a difference."
There was a long pause before Wheatley mused, "it felt like hitting, love."
Chell did her best not to roll her eyes. "I'm sure it did," she said, doing her best to figure out how to word this, "but I... think this might be the only thing I can do that might help, right now."
"Not very clear, really, on how hitting - spanking, me? Will help anything," Wheatley said, looking confused.
Chell sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She had no idea how to verbalize why she felt this would help. This was one of the many reasons she hated talking... her words always became jumbled in her head and before she knew it, they were coming out wrong. She didn't think she could just begin wailing on him before talking to him about it first. She didn't want him reverting back to that terrified lump in the snow. She took a deep breath, before trying, "do you think you might be able to try to trust me? I know what... I'm asking isn't easy."
"I do trust you," Wheatley immediately answered, "didn't, didn't you know that?" There was a long pause - Chell didn't know how to answer that. She really hadn't assumed he trusted her. After all, before becoming human, Wheatley had spent half of his time knowing Chell, well... trying to kill her. When she didn't answer, he hurried to say, "you've never really given me a reason to not trust you. You've always done exactly what you've said you'd do, erm, implied you'd do. No surprises." Well, she was pretty sure he hadn't been expecting her to open a portal to the moon.
"Wheatley..." Chell said in surprise.
"So, if you think whatever this is will help, then I'm willing to try," Wheatley said wearily, "though it seems kind of counterproductive, not really sure how it's meant to help, really. But! But, if you say so, I suppose. You've been human... quite a lot longer than me."
Chell just sat there in shock for a moment, unable to move or speak. That was a huge bomb he just dropped on her. It didn't upset her, like it had Wheatley earlier - it just shocked her. "Alright," she said, "if you're sure." If you're sure? She needed to toughen up a little if she was going to do this - he'd already said yes. Still, something inside her told her to double check.
Wheatley let out a tiny, deep chuckle, "I'm not sure about bloody anything. I'll let you sort all that out, I think."
Chell pursed her lips together, not sure if that made her feel honored or scared. Maybe both. Yes, definitely both. She hoped she wouldn't mess this up. 'Well,' she thought, taking a deep breath, 'here goes nothing.' She pulled her hand back, landing it moderately over the seat of his pajama pants. He yelped a little, jolting - he probably hadn't expected it, despite everything. She knew she'd have to do more than that, but this wasn't easy. Every time he flinched, she could feel it. She noticed how he was already grabbing on to the sheets in anticipation, and her heart clenched. Oh, she hadn't expected this to be so hard.
She looked at her left arm, which was kind of just leaning down in to the bed, and decided she should probably use it for something. She reached over and placed it between his shoulders, gently leaving it there. She could feel him tense, before feeling him relax just a bit - that was the response she was hoping for. Once she was confident he was calm, she pulled her hand back yet again, but didn't stop at one swat this time. It didn't take long before he was squirming over her lap, but was amazingly not trying to get up. She took a short moment to admire that, before taking her left hand off of his shoulders and snaking that arm around his waist, to somewhat hold him in place. She realized, though, that it wasn't only good for holding him in place - he seemed to relax more as she did so.
She kept the swats moderate, not willing to go any harder just yet. He was new to organic pain and the last thing she wanted was to push him too far. "You've been awfully quiet since coming here, Wheatley..." she explained.
"I... a-ah! Have I?" He asked, wincing every few swats, "I m-mean... did you really want me to be more talkative?'
"Maybe not in the beginning," Chell admitted, "but that really didn't last long. Eventually it just made me worry." Before he could respond, she moved her swats a little lower and asked, "you think about the moon a lot, don't you?"
Wheatley let out a little whine as the attention went lower, before burying his face in to the bed and asking, "do we really have to talk about that...?"
"That depends," Chell mused, thinking for a moment before asking, "why don't you want to talk about it?"
Wheatley clammed up, now, which Chell knew was a bad sign. She ventured a little lower, slowly, not completely sure how low was too low. She reached the soft under curve of his backside, and he immediately yelped and kicked one of his long legs out. "Wheatley," she said firmly, landing a few good pops to his under curve again. She was expecting an answer.
When she kept her focus to that rather sensitive area, he let out somewhat of a squeak and then a yelp. He yanked on the sheets a bit and almost growled, before he finally just snapped, "because I don't deserve to talk about it!"
Part of Chell had expected to hear something like that, but the other part still hadn't been prepared to hear it. She honestly didn't blame him for feeling that way, in fact, six months ago she would have agreed with him. Just because she understood, though, didn't mean she wouldn't try to convince him otherwise. "You're wrong," she said bluntly, landing her hand a little harder, alternating both sides.
"...What?" Wheatley asked, looking genuinely surprised. He wasn't flinching nearly as much, maybe he was getting used to it, or maybe he was too focused on what she was saying. She wasn't sure.
"I said, you're wrong," Chell repeated, "you deserve to talk about it, Wheatley. I can't even imagine how horrible it was, out there."
"Who cares how horrible it was," Wheatley said, voice laced with disbelief and the tiniest hint of anger, "are you forgetting about that time that I tried to bloody kill you?"
Chell sighed, stopping the spanking for a moment and resting her hand on his backside. "No, I never forgot," she said honestly, watching as his shoulders slumped. "Just because I've not forgotten, doesn't mean I don't understand what happened. Wheatley, you had no more control over what happened to you than Caroline did," she explained.
"Right, Caroline," Wheatley agreed, before asking, "um... who's Caroline?"
Oh, right... he hadn't had access to the Old Aperture buildings, he wouldn't have known. She tightened her arm around his waist, knowing this was going to be a lot of information to digest. "She wasn't always insane, you know," Chell explained softly, "She was human, and they forced Her in to that chassis, I think."
"She? What do you mean sh-" Wheatley asked, before stopping and going completely still, "no, no that can't be right. Are you sure about that?"
"Right before She let me go, She admitted to being Caroline," Chell said, trying to convince him, "but for one reason or another, She didn't know... until we found the pre-recorded messages of Caroline and her boss, down in Old Aperture."
"What was She like?" Wheatley asked, now sounding curious.
Chell thought for a moment, before saying thoughtfully, "happy, mostly. Chipper, really. She didn't really sound like a homicidal supercomputer." She was quiet for a moment, before saying, "I'm pretty sure that Caroline saved my life."
There was a silence, and for a brief moment it looked like Wheatley might believe her, that it might not be his fault he went corrupt. Suddenly, though, he shook his head from side to side, "maybe, maybe it was because She was human. I was, I was designed to be an idiot. I just... I'm just a moron, like She said. That's why it all went belly up..."
"Wheatley," Chell tried to reason with him, but she couldn't get many words out before he interrupted.
"No," Wheatley whined, covering his ears with his hands like a child, "I've never had a good idea in my life!" She sighed, realizing that she might have to step things up a bit. She took a deep breath, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his pajama pants and wrestling them down to his knees clumsily. Wheatley took one hand off of one of his ears, looking back and asking, "what are you doing?" Luckily, Wheatley didn't really have a concept of modesty - he was just confused.
Chell answered his question with a firm smack to the center of his backside. He yelped loudly, pulling on the sheets and kicking a leg out. It looked like she was right to assume he'd have an incredibly low pain tolerance. It looked like Wheatley understood why she'd pulled his pants down, now, as he was immediately twittering, "is that, is that really necessary? Because I, I could feel it just fine before!"
She ignored his question for now, swatting over his boxers in a quick rhythm before asking, "you've never had a good idea in your life?"
He grit his teeth, burying his face in to the sheets and saying, "how could I have? They o-OW! They literally created me for the sole purpose of being an idiot, just to take Her down." He paused for a moment before saying bitterly, "and apparently I couldn't even do that right." The longer she swatted, the more she had to grip his waist to keep him in place. He occasionally let out little sounds of displeasure, but oddly enough he didn't argue about the spanking. He really did trust her, didn't he? That really was terrifying.
Chell could feel herself beginning to get just a little angry - it made her pretty angry to know that those scientists created a sentient being just to program it to screw up over and over again. Even before Wheatley became corrupt, Chell could tell that he'd felt small and insignificant - always wondering why he was passed up for a job or told to never turn parts of him on. Really, what harm could he have done with a flashlight? She took a deep breath, sighing and moving her swats down lower again, "what about sabotaging the turrets and the neurotoxin generator?"
Wheatley whimpered and whined as she went lower, occasionally pounding a foot in to the bed. Once he heard her question, there was a very long silence, before Wheatley finally asked in a small voice, "w-wasn't... wasn't that your idea?"
She shook her head, "no, that was your idea. You told me about it right after you saved me from Her. Don't you remember that? How you saved me?" She moved the swats back to his under curves, remembering his reaction to that last time. She did her best to keep his mind partly on the spanking - it seemed to force him to speak plainly, rather than dance around the subject or try to play it off with fast words.
Wheatley let out a squeak, followed by a string of unintelligible protests, when she kept her attention focused on that very sensitive area. She could see the words beginning to register, as he began to go quiet with thought, after that first outburst. His shoulders were tense, trembling just a bit. "O-Oh yeah," he said, letting out a sad little laugh, "I'd... forgotten. While I was... gone..."
Chell realized, now, that he'd likely spent his entire time in space thinking about how badly he had messed up... he probably didn't think about much else.
"See?" Chell asked, swatting his under curves harder, "you've had good ideas. Do you even realize how fast things went downhill?"
Wheatley shakily reached up to take his glasses off, setting them next to himself and biting down on his lip, shaking his head. "I... I don't remember... a lot of it was a blur, except for the, the most painful bits. Why does that even matter?" He couldn't seem to stop his squirming, or his kicking legs... swatting here seemed to get his attention. He buried his face in to his arms, hanging on to the sheets with clenched fists.
"Wheatley, you went from your usual self to just plain insane in less than a minute," Chell said, being painfully blunt, "do you really think that's normal?"
"I..." Wheatley said weakly, "I... probably not, I suppose." His voice was getting watery, she could hear that he was about to break.
"You deserve to be able to talk about this, about everything," Chell said firmly, planning on wrapping this up, "burying it down isn't going to help you, I promise. You don't have to talk about the moon if you don't want to, I'm not going to force you... but if you ever try to stuff your feelings down again, I will do this again. I promise that, too. Do you understand?" She needed him to understand that she was here, now. She needed him to understand that this wasn't his awkward first night back. She swatted his under curves rather hard for a moment, occasionally catching his thighs, to try to get her point across.
Wheatley was squirming wildly by now, pajama pants being kicked down to his ankles in the frenzy. He let out a few whimpers and said shakily, "yes, I... I und-" she could feel him holding his breath for a moment, though that didn't last long. He puffed that air out and took in a shuddering breath, before letting out a choked sob, followed by, "I c-called you... f-fatty fatty no-pa-harents!" He finally just collapsed, not struggling anymore, just sobbing in to the sheets.
If Chell weren't so worried about him, she'd be laughing, right now. Even when Wheatley had first said it, she'd struggled to take it seriously. It seemed to weigh heavily on his mind, though, so she would treat it seriously. Her heart felt like it was being ripped out, listening to those sounds. She stayed her hand, acting on instinct and reaching down to pull him up. It took several tries, as he was at least a head taller than her and was crying so hard that his long limbs didn't want to work, but she eventually coaxed him up. He covered his face with his arm, unable to calm his cries. Wheatley swayed a bit, and Chell soon realized that she needed to get him laying down. She looked him over worriedly, wondering if she'd pushed him too far. Chell reached out and gently touched his shoulder, beyond relieved when he didn't pull away or even flinch. She put the pillows back at the head of the bed, one next to the other. "Alright," Chell said softly as she attempted to get him to lay down, "you, you did great. Come on..."
She had to repeat herself a few times before she finally saw her words registering on Wheatley's face. Chell sighed in relief when he finally laid down, but he was a crumpled up mess on the blankets. She looked down at him for a moment before joining him, at this point needing to comfort him almost as much as he needed to be comforted. Without even thinking, Chell reached over and pulled him in closely, cradling his head to her chest protectively.
Wheatley only seemed to sob harder at the affection, reaching up and hanging on to her shirt with tight fists. "I d-didn't mean it, when I s-said that!" he exclaimed, body trembling, "I don't know w-why, why I said that!"
Chell held him tighter with one arm, reaching up and petting his hair back. "I know... I always knew," she admitted, "it's alright..."
Wheatley shook, words pouring out of his mouth now - he just couldn't stop. "I called you, called you s-selfish... and bossy..." he whimpered, "when you'd never even s-said a word!"
Chell smiled sadly, carding her fingers through his hair and saying softly, "I know... that's alright, too."
He whimpered, stuttering, "and I p-punched you down an elevator shaft!" He tightened his grip on her shirt, "I was... was more angry at Her, d-didn't stop to think that you were i-in there too. I c-certainly didn't think the floor was going to give out f-from underneath you, I promise! It's one of the stupidest things I've done..."
"Part of me assumed that much," Chell murmured, "that you didn't mean to do it." The other part of her had thought that maybe he really was trying to kill her, right then... though she didn't think it was a good idea to tell him that.
He sniffled, shoulders shaking like he was trying to hold something back. He buried his face in to her shirt, hanging on tighter and bawling, practically yelling, "I a-asked you to j-jump in to a pit! A deadly p-pit!" Wheatley trembled hard as he said that, gagging and coughing for a moment from how hard he was crying. His sobs were becoming more frantic - Chell could tell that this memory weighed extraordinarily heavily on him. Before she could respond more words were tumbling out of his mouth, "a-and then, later, I... I asked you to th-throw yourself in to a m-masher!" He buried his face in to her as deeply as he could, bawling so hard that it was almost screaming. She'd never seen such remorse, before.
Chell frowned, thinking back to the moment Wheatley almost succeeded in killing her. She was lucky enough to have portaled away from him and his 'mashy spike plates' just in time, and as she was running away, she could hear his panicked voice screaming, "come back!" Against her better judgement, she went back - something in her wanted to be able to reason with him. She was going to talk to him. When she got there, though, he proceeded to ask her if she would kindly throw herself in to that pit. That had been the last time she'd considered talking to him until today. As for the masher incident, by that time Chell knew that Wheatley was too far gone and that reasoning with him was not an option. She knew that she'd most likely have to kill him. Thank God it hadn't come to that... though the moon wasn't exactly a mercy.
She had to admit, those two things were a much bigger deal to her than 'fatty fatty no-parents' and him calling her bossy... however, she understood that he wasn't in complete control. She'd forgiven him at least a month ago. Chell sighed softly, wrapping both arms around him, now, and squeezing. "I know..." she whispered, "I know you did. I forgive you."
Wheatley suddenly went silent and still, and Chell could feel a bomb about to explode. She bit her lip, waiting - sure enough, he completely broke, letting out a very painful, guttural sound followed by heavy sobbing. She held him tightly, making soft shushing sounds. Wheatley took a shaky breath, suddenly talking at a thousand miles a minute. "It was lonely, it was so, so lonely," he sobbed, "it was so quiet, and vast, and t-terrible! Space S-Sphere got knocked out of orbit only one month in - got to, got to go on the bloody space adventure of his dreams, he did, and I was... I was alone! For t-two years, just... no one, no one was there. All I could think about was, was y-you, the whole time!"
Chell felt her heart twist as he finally began talking about the moon. Maybe some forgiveness was what he needed to finally tell her about it. She let him talk, not wanting to interrupt him now that he was finally allowing himself to feel it. "I'm so sorry," she whispered when he finished, petting his hair back, "so sorry that you went through that. You're here, now... and I'm not going to let anything happen to you, do you understand?"
Wheatley slowly peeled his face away from her shirt, looking up at her and studying her face. His face was flushed and his eyes were red and puffy. She smiled gently at him, a smile that was very different from the one she gave him on his first night, out in the snow in the front yard. This one conveyed forgiveness. His face twisted, and he nodded his head up and down in a typically animated fashion, before burying his face back in to her chest and letting out another sob.
Chell wrapped her arms back around him, smoothing one hand up and down his back. She felt him bury his face in to her deeper, felt him take a shuddering breath and then let out another choked sob. "I... I thought She was going to k-kill me," he stuttered, "but She did, did... this, instead!" He gestured down weakly at himself for a moment, before hanging on tighter, "a-and, it hurt! It hurt a lot more than when we t-transferred me in to that chassis, and, and... a-and-"
Wheatley was beginning to hyperventilate. Chell gently pet his hair back, murmuring, "shh, it's alright... you can tell me all about it when you're ready. It doesn't have to be now." He nodded in to her chest, looking like he'd wanted to talk about it but then suddenly changed his mind. He was beginning to sound more and more like a scared child. She smoothed her hand over his back again, murmuring, "it's alright... She's not coming anywhere near you ever again. I would never let Her." She felt something in his shoulders loosen just a bit when she said that.
He let go of her shirt, slowly wrapping his arms underneath her and around her waist, seemingly trying to find a way to hang on tighter. Chell let him, readjusting herself to get comfortable before wrapping both arms back around him. He sobbed, the sound slightly muffled by her chest. "m'sorry!" Wheatley hung on tighter, "m'sorry I, I can't seem to stop I... I don't know what's wrong with me..."
Chell smiled sadly, reaching up with one hand and carding her fingers through his hair. "There's nothing wrong with you," she promised, "you just need to let it happen." She knew this must feel very different than the occasional short, emotional outbursts he'd had before. He needed to let himself feel this, though. He'd been way too calm for someone that had been through what he'd been through... it must have been festering for quite a while. Some of it was two years old - it needed to come out.
"W-Why do I need to let it happen," Wheatley quickly asked, hanging on tightly and asking between sobs, "why on earth would I, would I w-want to let this happen? It's rather unpleasant, I, I don't-"
"Shhh," Chell tried, giving him a small squeeze and pitching her voice as gently as it would go, "if there's anything I've learned in the past two years, it's that you can't go around a problem this big, Wheatley. You just... have to go through it. Nothing is going to get any better until you let yourself to feel these things..."
Wheatley whimpered and hung on tightly, crying harder for a moment. He didn't look happy at all about having to work through anything. She could understand why. Chell murmured, "I know, it's horrible... but it's going to get better." She ran her fingers through his hair, which had grown a bit longer and shaggier after six months, "and you don't have to do it alone." Sometimes she wished she'd had someone right after Aperture... though part of her knew that she wouldn't have trusted a single soul when first escaping.
Wheatley, though, did need someone. He grabbed on to a fistful of her shirt as he tightened his grip on her waist, asking uncharacteristically quietly, "I... I don't?"
"No," Chell promised, giving him a squeeze, "you're stuck with me, now." She had to admit, she'd grown attached to him. She didn't think she could abandon him.
Wheatley's crying began to slow down and quiet a bit. He hiccuped, beginning to relax against her as he cried quietly every now and then. "I..." he said, exhaustion filling his voice, "I'd like that, very much, I think... being stuck with you."
Chell smiled, petting his hair back and just letting him calm down naturally. After a few more minutes the crying stopped, and his breathing became more even. She could tell he was struggling to breathe through his nose, so she ruffled his hair softly and said, "I'm going to go get you some tissue, alright?"
Wheatley whined just a bit, before slowly unwrapping his arms from her waist and shifting his head and torso off of her. She smiled, promising, "I'll be right back," before getting to her feet.
As she headed toward the door he called out, voice a bit hoarse, "um, if, if it's not too much trouble, I think I'd really like some water, too. Please. Not sure why, but I am suddenly absolutely parched."
"I'd think so," Chell said, heading to the bathroom and grabbing a roll of toilet paper. She then went to the kitchen, grabbing him a bottle of water, unable to help but smile when she realized she was doing exactly what she'd done his first night here, but this time she wouldn't have to try to force him to drink. Thank God. She made her way back to the room, and stopped when she saw a very worried look on his face. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Ummm..." Wheatley started, "I changed position, and heard a... a cracking sound. I went to go look for the sound but I can't really see that well without my glasses, and then I realized..."
"Oh no," Chell muttered, hastening to the bed and finding his glasses. They were still at the foot of his bed where he'd left them, only now they were broken in half. She looked up at him, and immediately saw tears brimming his eyes again - he was likely still feeling emotional, which was to be expected. She smiled to try to reassure him, though she knew from this distance he likely couldn't see much of the smile. "It's alright, Wheatley," she said gently, "we'll fix them."
Wheatley's lower lip trembled a bit, before asking, "...how?"
Chell took a deep breath, trying to keep the fear from leaching in to her voice, "we'll go in to town."
Wheatley gulped a bit, asking nervously, "w-we?" The few times they'd needed something, Chell had gotten on her bike and ridden in to town, while Wheatley stayed home.
"Yes, we," Chell informed him, "I don't think this is something I can get fixed without you there." She watched him, seeing how nervous this made him. It made her nervous, too - there was no way they'd be able to get these fixed without having to actually talk to people, possibly more than one. Oh boy. She took a deep breath, setting his glasses on the nightstand and saying, "it's alright, later we'll tape them together so you can see until we leave, tomorrow. For now, though..." Chell handed him the toilet paper roll, "it's best to just take it easy."
Wheatley looked like he was beginning to calm down from the mild scare he'd just had. He sat up, wincing a little before taking the roll of toilet paper, ripping off a large chunk and immediately blowing his nose, not even questioning it this time. "Ugh," he groaned, trying to clean up his face, as he blew a bit too hard and not all of it made it to the tissue. "This stuff is proper disgusting," he said, grabbing more paper off of the roll and blowing once more. He got a flustered look on his face - he'd cried a long time and he was badly congested. He went through three more tissues, groaning, "never bloody ends, does it?" After the fifth tissue, he finally stopped, looking happy to be done with that.
Chell smiled, unscrewing the top of the water bottle and offering it to him. Wheatley set the tissues on the nightstand, taking the bottle and immediately downing at least half of it. He stopped to breathe, just long enough to say "thank you," as he gestured to the water. He downed the rest of the bottle, setting it down on the nightstand before unceremoniously plopping himself back down on to the bed. Chell chuckled a bit, laying back down next to him. He looked absolutely exhausted, and he'd only woken up less than an hour ago. His eyes almost looked glazed over, like he was suddenly in a haze. She wondered if that was normal.
She reached out and pet his hair back, and he looked up at her with tired eyes. He didn't look sad, just completely out of it. After seeing him break so badly, she was overcome with the sudden urge to make him laugh. Chell slowly looked at him, questioning if this kind of humor would help or hurt. She stared at him for a while longer, before asking, "hey, there wasn't really a pony farm in that pit, right?"
Wheatley stared at her in surprise for a moment, before his face began twisting up. Oh no. Chell began to panic, thinking she'd upset him... until she realized that his face was contorting in to a laugh. He threw his head back, letting out the first real, genuine laugh she'd ever heard him make. He rolled over and laid his head back on her chest. "No," he said, chuckling in to her shirt, "no, there wasn't a pony farm... or any nice looking fellas." He wrapped his arms back around her waist, hanging on loosely.
Chell chuckled and wrapped her arms back around him when he laid his head back on her chest. She was surprised he was so willing to just hang right back on to her, but she supposed he wasn't a 'normal' person. She watched him laugh, noticing how much his demeanor had changed compared to the last six months. He chuckled a little more before going quiet and resting against her. "I'm knackered," he exclaimed, before saying, "don't think I could sleep if I tried, though... did only just wake up. Probably... probably a bad idea, that... to sleep some more."
Chell gave him a small squeeze, "well, you don't have to sleep. You don't have to get up, either, if you don't want to. We can just stay here for a while." It wasn't like they had too much to do, other than fix his glasses.
"I think I like that idea," Wheatley said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "my, my head kind of hurts, suddenly... one of those headache things, I bet."
Chell frowned, explaining, "yeah, those can happen when you cry. It's because your mucus, that stuff you blew out of your nose, is getting backed up... and also you're dehydrated... that's why you were so thirsty." She would take every little opportunity to teach Wheatley new things about his body, now that she was speaking. He deserved to know how the damn thing worked. Chell reached one hand up, placing her fingers just below his skull and massaging, trying to help the pain.
"Oh, I suppose that makes sense, the-" Wheatley stopped mid-sentence, before going on to make quite a few unintelligible sounds in to her shoulder, his head laying limp against her. "Wha... whatever it is you're d-doing," he stuttered, occasionally losing his ability to speak, "is... just tremendous."
She laughed under her breath a bit, continuing to rub there for a bit longer before stopping. Chell returned both arms to around his torso, and that's when it dawned on her that Wheatley's pants were still tangled around his ankles. "Are you cold?" she asked, giving him a squeeze.
"Mmm?" Wheatley hummed in a tired voice, "m'not hungry." Chell laughed softly when she realized he'd begun falling asleep, after all. The neck rub probably didn't help things. She moved to get up so she could cover him with the blanket, but he hung on tighter as she did. She smiled, going still and letting him fully fall asleep. It definitely didn't take long - within around two to three more minutes he was completely limp against her, chest rising and falling slowly and evenly. She very gently began to maneuver herself from underneath him, struggling a bit at first to unwrap his arms from her waist. Chell eventually escaped, getting up and going around to his side of the bed. Most of the covers were still at the foot of the bed from when he'd woken up, so she simply wrestled them out from under his feet and carefully pulled them up and over him.
She reached down and gently ran her hand through his hair, making sure he was completely asleep. When he didn't respond to her touch, she looked over at the broken glasses on the nightstand. She picked the pieces up, sighing a bit and realizing she should try to do something temporary to fix them. She looked down at him one more time to make sure he was alright, before quietly making her way out of the room. She'd wake him in an hour or so - he obviously needed the nap.
Chell looked down at the glasses as she walked. She didn't regret that experience - she was glad the two of them had gotten somewhere. However, now they had to go in to town. And talk. To people. She sighed again, before reminding herself that it was worth the progress.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Thanks for reading, guys. I'm pretty excited to write the next chapter, I've got quite a few ideas!