AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi, it's been a while! Man, have I been on an adventure the past three weeks. Bit of an explanation, here, so if you don't want to read it just go on ahead and skip down to below the line, to the story! I was lucky enough to gain a sit down job about six months ago, and the narcotics I was using to treat the EDS pain were messing with my heart... so I told the doctor I don't want them anymore. Been weaning off for months, but the final drop to 0mg was devastating - immediate severe opiate withdrawal, on top of other already present health issues. It's been a wild ride, one I'm actually still on as I write this.

Almost every video game I've tried to play has just frustrated me to tears, either because I felt too ill to play or was too frustrated to play a game where I was in constant combat. I couldn't even touch Dragon's Dogma, haha. I finished Portal last year, and decided that now would be the perfect time to give Portal 2 a try. Challenging, so it keeps your mind busy, but slow paced with no real timer, most of the time. Cue my latest obsession.

I really did not think that this fic was going to be a thing. I am still constantly asking myself how this became a thing I wanted to write, because it wasn't always. When I finished the second game, my husband saw how much I liked it and asked me if I planned on writing a fic about it, and I said no, and I meant it. Told him I couldn't really see it fitting in to what I usually write about. His response was, "nah, you're gonna write one... about butts." To which I promptly insisted I wouldn't. He was right... and he's SUCH a good man for not saying "I told you so"! Then I found the internet... and the whole human Wheatley niche. I fell fast, haha. Yes, I know it's been five years since the last game was released, and human Wheatley has been done to death. I know it's not my most original idea, however, I don't care. Both playing Portal and writing this fic have gotten me through something so horrible I didn't think I'd pull through it in one piece. I'm decently happy with this chapter, but so far, I'm very happy with Chapter Two... and for once in my life I have a ton of ideas for future chapters.

I've proofread everything a ton of times, but I am pretty sick, so please be patient with me! I hope you guys enjoy reading this one even a fraction of how much I enjoyed writing it.

EDIT: Soooo... I originally wrote this chapter three days in to my withdrawal... and I just didn't like it. I ended up re-writing it... and then promptly uploaded the old one! I just fixed it, haha.

"GRAB ME, GRAB ME, GRAB ME, GRAB MEEE!"

Wheatley flung upright in his bed, gasping for air and frantically grabbing at the sheets. He was drenched in sweat and lightly trembling, trying to get his grip on reality back. These dream things were really becoming a pain - he'd been having them almost every night for six months. Just as he began to get cemented back in to reality, he noticed the huge, white sphere hovering just outside of his window. Wheatley gasped and instinctively flung his body off of the bed, landing with a loud thud and a bit of a yelp.

He hurried to push himself back in to the nearest corner, his rather long limbs tangling up in the process and drastically slowing him down, but he eventually got there. He whimpered, shutting his eyes tightly as he saw the moon a second time, trying to shove himself even further in to the corner. All he could hear in his head was the loud whooshing sound of being sucked out in to the vacuum of space, followed by deafening and painful silence. Everything was so empty, so unfathomably vast and terrifying. He couldn't even seem to hear Space Sphere right now, all he could think about was the silence. In this moment he was back there again... alone, scared, and sorry.

Wheatley was partially yanked back in to reality by gentle fingers weaving through his newly acquired hair. He flinched a bit, looking up and seeing a Chell shaped blur in front of him. Stupid human eyes, with their stupid imperfections and stupid glasses. He didn't know how to react to her presence. On one hand, he was happy to realize he was not, in fact, floating in space... but on the other hand, Chell had never given him much more than a pat on the back, in his time here. Sure, they were on friendly terms, now, but Wheatley didn't think it would be appreciated if he just grabbed on to her like he wanted to, right now. He was speechless, just staring up at her, eyes occasionally darting around the room as he tried to completely pull himself out of this nightmare that he seemed to have one foot inside of.

Wheatley flinched as he saw her reach out, before going still as she rubbed her hand up and down his arm. He trembled for a moment, before reaching out with both hands and latching on to her sleeves. He couldn't help himself anymore. Wheatley hung on tightly, like he was trying not to fly away for a second time. He looked over her shoulder worriedly at the window, staring at the moon, as if trying to wish it away. He wanted to talk all of this away, like he usually did, but he was so upset he just didn't know how. That seemed to be happening to him a lot, since getting this body.

He whimpered and hung on tighter when he felt her try to pull her arms away. She let out a soft, sad sigh, squeezing his forearms. 'Let go,' he assumed she was saying. He shut his eyes tightly, letting go of her arms and pushing himself further back in to the corner, or at least trying to. Soon, he could feel shifting on the old floorboards, and heard the sound of the curtains closing. Wheatley slowly cracked open one eye, noticing that Chell had hidden the moon from their view. She knew. Of course she bloody knew, she always knew everything. He often thought he was being sneaky, but she always figured him out, like some kind of puzzle. It frustrated him - he didn't want her to know. He didn't deserve to be traumatized by his time in space.

Chell came back over to him, reaching down with both arms and trying to help him up. He shakily got to his feet, knees wobbling... he could still feel his heart beating heavily with anxiety. She motioned for him to lay down, and he stared at the bed hesitantly before slowly crawling in to it and laying down on his back. As she draped the blanket over him, he began to feel the panic rising in his chest, again. The emptiness, the space, was just all around him. He hung on tightly to the sheets, fear etched all over his face, though he didn't know that it was that obvious.

Wheatley could see her standing over him, not sure why she was still there. He looked at her in confusion as she sat down next to him, swinging her legs up on to the bed and resting her back against the headboard. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she reached over and pulled on his left shoulder. At first he couldn't understand just what it is she wanted, but as she kept pulling he began to realize that she wanted him to lay on his side. Odd. He did as she 'asked', rolling on to his side and latching back on to the sheets. Before he had much time to think, Chell was reaching behind his back and pulling him closer, until his head was on her lap.

The empty space was dissolving, and Wheatley was beginning to feel anchored down, again. His shoulders finally loosened a bit, and it was easier to breathe. It took a moment for him to understand the significance of what had just happened, once he felt calmer. This was huge, Wheatley assumed. He didn't know much about humans, their limits, or their... folklore, but he felt like this had to be a huge step for Chell. Maybe she'd forgiven him? No, that wasn't possible - he didn't think it would ever be possible. That was alright, he didn't deserve it.

Wheatley bit down on his lip, tearing up and trying to mask the emotion in his voice. "Sorry, I'm sorry. You were, you were fast asleep, probably, and here I am waking you up," he twittered, "I'm fine, really, I'm alright. Was just one of those... nightmare things, nothing serious. Nothing to write home about. Just a... just a dream. About Aperture." He heard her let out a sad little sigh that plainly said she wasn't buying that. There was a pause before he finally admitted, "alright, okay, it was about the moon. Not that you should think I'm cross, no, about the moon! No, not like I gave you much of a choice, did I? With the... the bombs, and the neurotoxin, and the, the mashy spike plates." He laughed nervously, trying to sound nonchalant, before clamming right back up, like before.

He felt her reach up and begin to pet the sticky hair off of his forehead, before carding his fingers through his hair gently. The fact that she responded so gently dug deeply in to him, and made the lump in his throat begin climbing. He buried his face down in to her lap, letting out a tiny sound of frustration, followed by a quiet sob. He whimpered as she smoothed her hand over his back in an effort to comfort him, before giving in and crying softly in to her lap. Between sobs he could hear her making soft shushing sounds. These sounds were the closest Wheatley had ever gotten to hearing her speak. Despite her attempts at comfort, Wheatley found himself continuing to cry, angry at himself for not being able to stop. Angry at himself for many things, like his nightmares, and his inability to hide his fear of the moon from Chell.

The longer he cried, the harder it became to continue said crying... as the fingers in his hair and the hand on his back were making it difficult to continue. Oh, he was so tired, and his eyes burned. Maybe if he closed them, just for a bit, they would stop burning. Just for a bit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know, this was a rather small chapter, for me, but it just felt like enough at the time. The next chapter is significantly longer, with more dialogue.

Thanks for reading!
Johnna