Word count: 5,435
Warnings: M/F sex, so a bit NSFW, but I tried to keep it fairly tasteful and in keeping with the style.
A/N: I had to think up a name for the toxic sludge that's first present in test chamber 11, because I don't think it's ever given an official name (or at least, my digging yielded nothing - if it does have an official name, someone please tell me!). So Aperture Science Liquid Deterrent it becomes, mostly because I loved the name 'discouragement beam' for deadly lasers.
Fun fact: This is the penultimate chapter.
As usual, critique is welcome.
-:-
Soft floor. Nice. Springy. Material. A carpet, he supposed, and then stopped. He was dead, he didn't get to suppose. Light cracked his eye open and he forced closed it again.
"Hey. Doug."
No.
"Yes. C'mon. Wakey wakey."
He opened his eye. Henry paced back and forth, like a tiger in a cage, his head tilted up and gaze focused on something far away. Pieces of skin floated from the ground, peeled themselves back onto his face. His lab coat was pristine white and a clipboard and pen replaced the gun in his hand. "So," he said, and tapped the end of his pen against the clipboard, "we're both back."
"Am I dead?"
Henry bent over him, hands on his knees, no bullet hole in his head. His face twisted into something that looked almost like pity. "If you are, you look damn good."
He shut his eye again. "Why?"
"Well, you've got the heartbeat and the brain activity-"
"No." He struggled to focus. "Why'd she do it?"
"Not something I can answer, I'm afraid. I guess she has her own reasons for saving you."
He tried to laugh, but all that came out was something guttural, painful. "Save me. Everyone wants to save me."
"If it's any consolation, I… tried."
Doug's hand found his face, scraped across his beard and then rubbed at his eyes. His side ached, and when he sat up the world tilted and taunted him with black spots. He didn't realise he was sitting on a couch until his head touched his knees. A couch, which meant an employee rec room. He didn't look up, just wrapped his arms around his head and squeezed as though he could crush his own skull. Shame human bones were fairly durable. Happy thoughts seemed to have been sucked out with all his other emotions. A hollow sense of nothing, like a robot ticking over until someone came and turned it off.
His fingers pressed into his eyes and he felt wetness slide down his cheeks. Still nothing there. Even if it was fear, hate, he wanted to feel something.
"Hey," said Henry, and Doug felt him crouch next to him, "look on the bright side. Third time's supposed to be the lucky one. The test subject can't be around forever, can she?"
Doug stood up. Gravity tried to collapse him back, but he gritted his teeth against it. In the corner, the Aperture logo still flickered on a dusty computer screen. He wobbled over to it, drew a path through the dust with his finger. Not dead. Not alive.
He picked up the monitor, tore the cables away. Threw it straight through Henry's head. Then the keyboard, then the mouse.
Henry blinked at him. "What did I do?"
A coffee table upended under Doug's foot. The cheap wood cracked, fragmented. The mouldy mugs shattered against the wall. Fire built inside his chest, blazed in satisfaction when he kicked a dead potted plant across the room. Finally, emotion. He clung to it as it welled behind his teeth and a helpless snarl ripped itself from his lips.
"Hey, Doug?" Henry glided around the upside-down table, spared a brief look at the smashed wood, "I really don't think you should be breaking company property. They're not going to like this-"
"There is no company! Everyone is fucking DEAD!"
The scream tore in his throat, but he didn't care. He picked up a stray mug, threw it in Henry's general direction and missed by several yards. His nails tore against canvas chairs. Splinters jabbed into his palms when he snapped something wooden, something he couldn't see through the red haze. No more Aperture, no more anything. Let it all end.
"So what are you going to do after you've crushed everything in here to dust?" Henry whispered, but it echoed inside Doug's head anyway. "Go and destroy the test chambers, the turrets, GLaDOS? Tear it all apart?"
Doug closed his eyes. Half of a pen bit into his hand. Her words came back, made him swallow in shame.
Nothing is as good at killing as a human.
He dropped the pen. His back hit the wall and he slid down it, wrapped his arms around his knees. "Go away."
Henry flicked into existence beside him. "Excuse me?"
"Go away."
"Is that any way to talk to your supervisor?"
"My supervisor put a bullet in his head because he couldn't stand facing his mistake. He's been dead a long time."
"I'm not discussing this with you, Doug, now get up. We haven't finished our experiment."
Doug leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes. "No."
He floated in the black space behind his eyelids. Henry said something from far away, the words warped and distorted. Doug kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut. Monks in distant lands could stop their hearts from beating, so he had heard. Mind over matter, over body. Stop the heart just through thoughts. He took a deep breath, pictured it throbbing in his chest. Part of him.
Die.
He closed his eyes tighter, dug the heels of his hands into the sockets, saw red burst into a million stars.
Die. End. Cease. Just. STOP.
His heart ignored his brain, beat on, defiant.
How absolutely illogical. He took his hands away from his face, watched the world creep back into focus. Why not crank up the dopamine while he was at it? Why not grow himself another head? Children wished for the impossible, used their imaginations to try and make things happen. Trying to stop his own heart through sheer will was at odds with everything they had taught him. Unscientific. And unscientific things had no place anywhere, or so Aperture said. Was that why they had hired him? Because he had been so… cold?
Yes. He had helped them with tools. With things to hurt. And GLaDOS.
He slumped. Dust motes ghosted in a dim shaft of light. Aperture cradled him as he stared at nothing.
-:-
Doug had gone quiet.
She watched him through the vent grill, her fingers poked through the gaps and her body curled up tight. The portal gun jabbed into her side. He seemed much smaller, a lot less threatening now that he wasn't screaming and breaking things. His body was all angles, elbows and knees jutted beneath his clothes, skin shrunk taut against his skull. Huddled into himself, he closed his eyes. She remembered his hands, warm, pressing to keep the blood inside.
"He won't help you," GLaDOS had said when Chell once stopped to examine one of his paintings, "he can't even help himself. Almost as useless as you. At least he can work out that the cube is not supposed to be in the Aperture Science Liquid Deterrent."
His paintings had told her the story. A dead facility, ruled over by the insane computer. Workers in white coats murdered, though she didn't know the reason why. All gone except him. The broken man who had saved her life.
And then she had to throw down some portals to save his. They were even.
The grill made a small chik sound when she detached it. As gently as she could, Chell lowered it to the ground and unfolded herself, left the portal gun where it was. Her feet touched the carpet just as Doug murmured to himself. Some of the words had the same noise and she waited for a moment, enjoyed the rhythm of them. When he had stopped, she crouched beside him. He nestled his head into his knees, eyes still firmly shut. Too busy giving up to notice her. Black hairs stuck out from his face. She tilted her head, stared at them. Would they feel like her own hair?
She reached out a hand and brushed his cheek with one finger. The hairs poked her skin. Bristly, definitely not like the hair on her head. His face tilted to the side. Their eyes met. So empty. She kept her finger on his cheek.
"Why couldn't you just leave me alone?" His voice cracked, and tears glittered. "Why couldn't you just let it all end? I'm tired of all this, I'm tired…"
She fished his hand from his chest and held it tight. Still warm. He made a funny little hitching noise in his throat, and hid his face again. Words dripped from her brain and died when they reached her tongue. She had been able to talk before she woke up, hadn't she? What had they done to her? Fingers squeezed Doug's hand, and the words were still locked inside her head. They taunted, danced out of reach. She gritted her teeth, stood up, and yanked Doug's arm. He looked at her again, shook his head. Her lip curled and she pulled again, and through the block in her head: up, go, move.
He did nothing. She let his arm drop.
The desire to break things, as he had done, welled inside her. They needed to escape, couldn't he understand that?
"It was nice of you to try." He snuffled into his shirt sleeve. "So nice. I wish they had all been like you. I wish she was…"
Her arms went under his. She heard the small gasp and hauled him to his feet. The smell of blood clogged her nose. Her hand pressed his shoulder against the wall, stopped him from falling again. His eyes went everywhere but her face. The facility rattled around them. GLaDOS wouldn't be too happy at either of their absences, but it didn't feel like she could reach them. Chell took a deep breath. How to make him move? Maybe she could keep shoving him through portals until they found a way out, but he just looked so… fragile. Perhaps she'd sling him over one shoulder and carry him through the facility.
She watched the bloodstains on his shirt heave up and down as he breathed. Her blood. His hands.
Those hairs jabbed her palm when she held his face still. Look, she said to him in her head, look at me. Dark irises jerked up to hers and then dashed away. His pupils were different sizes. She tilted her head, tried to catch his gaze again-
and then his hand was in her hair. He leaned forward and she didn't even have time to blink before his mouth touched hers.
It… wasn't entirely unpleasant. His lips were dry, and he quivered so badly that she worried he might fall over, but he didn't force or insist. Her own lips felt strange, warm and oversensitive. Her stomach swooped as though she had just jumped from a floor portal to a wall one. The twist. The giddiness.
The pressure eased. Warm breath blew against her cheek. Doug backed against the wall again and touched his mouth with his fingers. His gaze went back to the floor. "That was… sorry. That was inappropriate." She shook her head at him. "No? But you're a – I mean, I didn't-"
She was the one to press forward this time. He was still trying to talk when she kissed him, so she slid her tongue against his lips. His little yelp made her smile. When she pulled away, his eyes seemed to be a little unfocused. "Very inappropriate." His voice had gone deeper, and she wondered if hers would have done too. She let him go, moved to retrieve the portal gun, but the look of desperation on his face made her stop.
"Don't," he said, and took a step forward, his body against hers, "don't leave again."
She raised her eyebrows. Her finger jabbed at his chest.
"Yes, I know I'm a hypocrite. It's a great part of human nature. 'Judge not lest ye be judged', or something. But everyone does. They always do." He bit the nail on his thumb. "Watch out for me? I trust myself less than I trust GLaDOS." Chell pointed at herself. His face tinged with pink. "I trust you completely."
Even if she'd had her voice, she wouldn't know what to say to that.
She took his hand. It still trembled in hers, and she kept him close in case he fell down. He needed food, water. When she picked up the portal gun, she remembered the fruit he had given her. Maybe there was some more in the facility.
Portal gun at the ready, they slipped out of the room.
Corridors carved a labyrinth in front of them. She followed the signs on a few: Employee Lounge 3a, Cafeteria, Level 7 Laboratory, but it wasn't until they found one labelled Showers that Doug took any notice. "We're on the other side of the facility?" He tapped the sign, eyes wide, thumbnail still between his teeth. "Can we go here? Please? This blood really… I don't like being covered in it. Even if it is yours. I mean," he said and turned to stare at the wall, "not that I… oh, Jesus, shut up."
A shower. Water falling from the sky. She remembered that much. Yes, washing away some of the sweat might be nice. Doug mumbled at the wall until she led him in the direction of the arrow. The lights flicked on in the next corridor when they walked down it. Doug looked up, squinted at them. She could see the difference between his pupils a lot better when the light hit them. "We'd stay down here for a long time, sometimes. I think the longest I went without being on the surface was… four months. Four and a half. Just working, all the time. The others complained, but I loved it. I didn't have anything to go back to, you see." He went quiet for a moment and then chuckled. "Henry and I, we'd sometimes stay up for three, four days solid in the lab. Then, when we were high on sleep deprivation and coffee, we'd play with the portal gun. Nearly killed each other a couple of times, but we had a good laugh afterwards."
And now everyone was dead. How was she supposed to feel about that? The people who had created GLaDOS, who didn't really seem to care about anything except tests, all gone except Doug. Had this all been a good thing?
They turned a corner. The shower room door was clearly labelled, but Doug took one look and then pressed against her back. His forehead met her shoulder blade and she could hear the long, dragged moans of "no, no no nonono."
A woman sat slumped against the door. Her head had fallen forward so that her yellow hair covered her face, but Chell didn't need to get any closer to see that she had been dead for a long time. The stink had hit her, such an instinctive smell of wrong that she considered backing off. Blood had pooled around the corpse, now no more than a dried stain the colour of rust. A trail of it splattered up the floor of the corridor and then around another corner.
"Turrets," Doug whispered behind her. She turned to soothe him, but he stared straight through her, eyes glassy and thumbnail dripping red. She eased it out of his mouth and he grabbed her fingers. "Raise the dead," he said, voice low as though afraid he would wake up the corpse, "tear them down. We don't have to go in there."
She shrugged one shoulder and gave him a pat. He clung to the wall when she let go of him. If the floor had been a portal surface, she could have moved the body easily enough to the end of the corridor, but it looked like she was going to have to touch the woman.
The smell got worse the closer Chell came to the corpse. She inhaled through her mouth, but then she could almost taste it. Looked like she was going to have to get used to it quickly.
One withered hand lay on the woman's lap. Her white coat looked too big on her shrunken frame and as Chell peered closer, she could read the woman's name tag. Maris Devita. Maybe Doug had known her.
Chell bunched the collar of the woman's coat in her fist. Her knuckles brushed dead flesh. She pulled, and the smell crawled up her nostrils, rolled her stomach. With a creak, the woman's head fell backwards, and Chell caught a glimpse of leathered skin, of lips peeled away to bare teeth. She focused on the end of the corridor after that, not on the body dragging behind her, or Doug watching, just on reaching that one simple goal.
Her thoughts about the woman went away, hid themselves.
Turrets chirped around a corner. She let the body fall from her grasp. Hair fluttered, caught for a brief moment in the air before it covered the woman's face again. A hand fell over the other. Sleeping. It could have been him.
Doug knelt with his face pressed against the wall. She came closer and put her hand on his shoulder, shook him. He turned his face up, the corner of his mouth smudged with blood.
"She took him away. I looked one day and he wasn't there. She took him." He wobbled to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. "I was good, I tried to find him. I… did try to find him, didn't I? I remember I was looking for something. Was it you?"
She took his hand, led him to the door. He kept his eyes on her. They walked into the room and the lights popped on, illuminated row after row of lockers and a long, white-tiled area for the showers. Doug let her go and ran his fingertips over the nearest locker. He tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. Nor would the next one. He rubbed his eyes. "There were keys. I need some new clothes. A towel."
Her hand went to the small of his back, and she nudged him towards the showers. Doug smiled. "I smell that bad?" She raised her eyebrows. "All right, I get the hint."
The way he kept slipping back and forth in coherence made her frown. He didn't seem dangerous, not towards her, but even he couldn't trust himself. Could she?
She watched as he stood to the side and pulled a lever on the nearest shower. When water hissed from the silver head on the wall, she turned away, examined the lockers. The metal doors seemed flimsy, enough force applied, or something wedged in the small gap could maybe open them.
She brought the portal gun up, tested the prongs. Her finger curled around one and pulled it to the side. Durable. Small enough to slide in the gap and use to break the door open and just hope they wouldn't snap.
The metal rasped when she pushed the portal gun against the pivot. Inside, the lock began to give. It took a few more heaves until the door popped open. Inside, nothing. She inspected the portal gun for damage and tried again.
Five lockers later, she found one towel and a shirt. Thirteen lockers later: another towel, a white coat and a picture of a woman in her underwear. She left the picture where it was. Maybe Doug would appreciate it, but it wasn't a vital thing.
He had his back to her when she approached, his clothes in a haphazard pile on the floor. He had found a bar of soap somewhere and was busy scrubbing it into his hair. The water ran red down his legs, swirled a pinkish-orange into the drain. She folded the towels over her arm, left the shirt, coat and portal gun on the floor, and reached around the spray to tap his shoulder. His yelp made her draw back. He turned, and his hands clasped between his legs. His face went that odd shade of pink again.
"Chell!" Soap dribbled from his hair and into his eye. He withdrew one hand and rubbed at the eye with a knuckle. "Ow!"
She tilted her head and held out a towel. He grabbed it, pressed it against his eye and shut the other. "Thanks. But. Uh…"
Her jumpsuit unzipped down the front. She detached the leg braces and set them next to the portal gun. Her shirt was almost as bloody as his, and when she took it off, the bullet wounds snagged the fabric. They had scabbed over a while ago, and now she didn't even feel them. The tight vest came next, then the thin pants, then she let her hair out of the ponytail to fall to her shoulders. Chell stretched, smiled at the feel of air hitting her bare skin, and stepped into the shower next to Doug.
The water streamed over her. A perfect temperature. Doug still rubbed his eyes, grumbled into the towel. She placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to take the soap from him. He jumped and dropped the towel into the water.
His eyes went to her chest. Then went wide. He squawked, put a hand over his face and turned away. "I didn't see anything! I mean, I saw… things, but I didn't mean to! Sorry!"
She wished he would stop apologising. All she wanted was the soap. She picked it up from where it had fallen onto the tiles. Held it to her nose. Just chemicals. Clean chemicals, but still chemicals. She passed it over her body, liked the way it left a slick trail behind on her skin. Under her arms she scrubbed hard, the bubbles frothing through the hair there and taking away the stale smell of her sweat. Doug had some good ideas. Throwing himself into a pit hadn't been one, of course, but this felt better than completing a test chamber.
Using her fingers, she combed the soap through her hair, then let the water blast it away. Next to her, Doug cleared his throat.
"You took the bandages off."
She shrugged at his back. If he would just look at her, he'd see she didn't need them. She rolled her eyes and grasped his wrist. He trembled. She made his fingertips trace the bullet wounds. When she took her hand away, he kept his there, touching. "You…"
He turned, slow. Looked. Frowned.
"Augmented healing," he said, as though that explained everything. "They must have done something to you. I don't have anything to do with the test subjects, so I don't know what-" He inhaled, sharp and loud. "Test… subjects. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
Her arms wound around his neck. He made a little 'oh' noise and she kissed him again.
-:-
He had no idea what to do with his hands.
They hovered over Chell's hips. He shouldn't have been so afraid to touch her, but Henry still lingered in his head, silent. She was stronger. Doug felt him seethe when he kissed her back. Aperture stopped existing. Everything they had done, everything... he had done, disappeared in her scent and touch.
His hands finally decided to rest on her lower back. That seemed safe enough. Her cheek brushed his, and her own hands touched his chest, fingertips finding every protruding rib. He wished he wasn't shaking so damn much. A thumb skimmed his nipple and he jerked. She studied his face, did it again. Now that was certainly an interesting sensation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice gave him an anatomy lesson. He tried to ignore it, focused on her finger tracing a scar that cut a bald swathe through his pubic hair.
"Work-related injury," he said into the side of her neck. Even after three years he wasn't convinced it was an accident. She explored the scar, then the rest of his hips. Maybe he should do something more than just cling to her. Maybe he should put his hands… where? Oh, God, what did you do with hands during sex? Was this a normal dilemma?
Wait, sex?
It was like a little light bulb had gone on in his brain. It had all happened so naturally that he hadn't really acknowledged it for what it was. Chell kissed him again, and his hands slid up her sides. Water dripped off the tip of her nose. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. About how sorry he was, how much he enjoyed being with her. How much he loved her.
Her hand dipped between his legs, and all rational thoughts were sucked into a vacuum. He made a tiny, desperate noise that could have been her name. She stroked. He trembled. Wanted.
He wasn't quite sure how he ended up on the floor, but with Chell pressed against him, under him, he didn't care. Their foreheads bumped together. His palm pushed against flesh hotter than fire, slicker than the soap. He could hear himself panting against her neck and felt her own chest move against his. A tongue swiped his neck. Water streamed off his neck, ran down to trickle onto her body. He pulled back, waited until she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Do you forgive me?"
Legs wrapped around his waist. He choked, gasped when her hips rolled against him. He felt her smile against his cheek. Couldn't help but smile back. "I love you."
Her nails bit into his shoulders when he pushed inside her.
Black hair streamed over the tiles when she tilted her head back, breathed hard. His trembling had turned to full-blown shivering. Pleasure strangled him. He found her lips and kissed her deep, moved his hips and felt her tense against him.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been happy. He couldn't remember the last person he had touched. But he would always remember this, the feel of her arms, the taste of her lips, the way her body arched up and joined to his. Nothing would get between them. GLaDOS would have to kill him before he let her go.
Don't think about her, the voice, the real voice in the back of his head said, she doesn't deserve to be part of this. This is one thing she will never have.
A moan dragged itself from him. The human experience. Pain, death and… this. Happiness beyond anything GLaDOS would experience. Even if she killed him she couldn't take it away.
Chell's hand disappeared between their bodies. Her other one caught in his hair, tangled itself and clenched, unclenched, over and over. He kept moving. Couldn't stop, even if he'd wanted to.
Her body tensed. A wire pulled tight. His mouth stayed on hers. Her breath hitched, sounded like sobs, the closest to words she could get.
He held onto her when she collapsed. Kissed her again. Strained. Rushed pleas made it past his lips as whispers. She nuzzled the side of his face, blew a long, tired breath over his cheek. He moved faster. Tension knotted itself in his stomach, a white-hot mass that built and built and built. She smiled. Devious. Slid her thumbs against his nipples.
"Chell," he whispered. Then again. Again.
The tension snapped.
Her name caught in his throat. Pleasure stabbed in waves, jolts that shuddered through his body. She clung on, held him close as he cried out. Then again. Again.
The waves slowed. His cries trickled to whimpers, then silence. Face pressed into Chell's neck, he tried to slow his breathing. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
Once he'd recovered himself enough, he looked down. Grey eyes blinked up at him, and hands cupped his face. "I love you," he said to her, and she nodded, just once, pressed her fingers against his chest. He kissed her forehead, then withdrew, let the water run over his stomach.
He lay on his back. Closed his eyes. The world became a hiss of water. Aperture slunk back into existence like a kicked dog. Endorphins scattered his emotions. Happiness. Satisfaction. The absence of fear. Right then, he was safe, and Chell was with him. All he needed. They could make a plan, escape would become something more substantial than a vague fantasy that played in his head at night. She had the portal gun, he had knowledge of the facility. Escape. He'd see the sun again.
Water pattered onto his face. He squinted up to see Chell's cupped hands opening, and then a deluge hit him. He spluttered, sat up. She retreated, her eyes wide, innocent. Playing. She was playing with him. How long had it been since he'd done that? He lay back down. When she came closer, he shot up, smacked the stream of water at her. She rolled away, slid the soap across the tiles at him. It hit his leg with a gentle nudge, but he rolled into a ball, hugged his leg and moaned.
Her smile warmed him more than their love making. He stopped pretending to be injured, and sat up, scooted until his back hit the wall. She walked over, sat beside him. Their feet stayed in the spray of water. His arm went over her shoulders.
"I'm glad you saved me," he said. It sounded idiotic, so he tried again. "I… what I said before. About how you shouldn't have?" She blinked at him. "It's complicated. Really, really complicated. More complicated than the components of that portal gun. Than the inside of Cave Johnson's mind."
No reaction at the name. Should he have expected one?
"I'm not… all right." He stared across at the opposite wall. Not even the endorphins could chase away the lump in his throat. "It's in my head. Like a chemical imbalance, or so the theory goes. It makes me see things. People. I had pills that kept it in check, but there's only two left, and I've got a feeling no one's making them anymore." He pointed at the ceiling. "She said things were happening outside. I don't know what. She likes to lie to me. Told me once that sharks had grown legs and were killing all the humans. Then it was the plants that were killing the humans. Then aliens." He laughed, then wished he hadn't. "I never know when to believe her."
Her hand squeezed his.
"We have to get out of here, though. No matter what's out there, can't be as bad as in here, right?"
She didn't smile. Her eyes went to the ceiling. Maybe GLaDOS had been telling her things too. Desperation clutched him. "Chell?" Her eyes met his. "We have to get out of here."
After staring at him for a moment, she nodded. He smiled. "Good. Great. Thank you."
He should have been standing up, getting dressed and trying to come up with some sort of plan, but all he wanted to do was sit there with her, at least until the water ran cold. He smiled to himself. Aperture Science. The water would run out before it ran cold.
Her fingernails tickled along the inside of his thigh. He poked her arm. Her fingers went higher. They both smiled. He leaned in to kiss her.
The lights went out.
He started, jumped to his feet. Beside him, Chell patted his leg, stood up too. Just the dark. The motion sensor lights probably hadn't picked them up for a little bit and had shut off. But then why weren't they back on? He moved his arm, walked forward a few steps. Nothing. He breathed through his mouth. Not enough oxygen. Too fast.
He pressed back against the wall. His hand found Chell's arm, gripped it a bit tighter than he'd intended. She smacked his shoulder and he let go. "Sorry. I just… why are they off?"
He could almost hear her thinking. You should know, you fix the broken things in here.
"They don't go off," he whispered, mouth dry, "they shouldn't be off."
A hum. A dull green glow lit the room up from the ceiling. Emergency lights. The facility must be running the base amount of power needed.
He knew who controlled it. He didn't need to say her name again. But there was no reason for it, no reason to turn the lights out to try and scare test subjects when she knew the emergency power would kick in. Unless…
Chell was a glowing green angel under the lights. When he turned to her, she tilted her head at him, frowned. He cleared his throat, couldn't quite believe the words he was about to say.
"I think she's off."