The world was a spinning blurs of white and grey as Wheatley sat up. He didn't know when, or where, or what he was.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where there had only ever been darkness, and fog, and a vague sense of Before, there was now clarity so sharp it was painful. He had just realized so many terrible, important things (He had died. Something horrible had happened to him he didn't know how many years ago. They had Done Something to him, and he had died and it had hurt) — and he didn't have time to process any of them half as well as they deserved.

But Wheatley managed to focus on the most important one.

Chell.

"I knew her." He breathed.

It felt like centuries ago (and, God, maybe it was), but the two of them had once come together of their own volition. Not because a nuclear reactor was about to explode. Not because a homicidal supercomputer was trying to kill them. Not because they needed each other to survive. Chell had once chosen to trust him, simply because she considered him a friend. He had earned her trust long before he broke it. He did hear her voice before Her, he just didn't remember it until now. He was the one who had put her in cryo. It was his fault she had gotten stuck here.

Here.

...Where was—

"You remembered."

She very nearly sounded surprised, though not half as surprised as Wheatley, who, at the sound of Her voice, jolted back to reality with a bout of fear so strong he choked on thin air.

She ignored this.

"Isn't it fascinating?" Something darker crept into Her voice, barely repressed anger and aggressive glee. "You gave your life to keep her from dying."

He was back Here— they were back here because Chell— Chell—

"And then you killed her."

Wheatley's world stopped spinning very suddenly.

No. No, no, no, no. It wasn't true. (Breathe you have to breathe.) It couldn't be true.

He must've misheard her. That was it. That was all it was.

"What?" He choked.

Her gaze was cold, and furious, and almost pitying as Her optic settled on him, and Wheatley wanted to disappear for far too many reasons.

Deafening silence.

No. God, Science, Anything, no. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true, please—

"Well." She droned. "Almost."

Wheatley didn't know that you could be blindsided by a pleasant emotion, like relief. Suddenly he felt light, as if the crushing weight of something…. crushing (maybe years of guilt and months of fear; maybe an actual crusher) had been lifted from his shoulders. His emotions swung from devastated to elated so quickly it was dizzying- he was crying- how long had he been crying?

Wheatley fell back onto the floor, folding his arms over his eyes as he laughed and sobbed. He didn't care that She was watching him— judging him. Chell was okay (Chell was okay. Somehow his crazy, half baked plan had worked and she was okay, she was going to be okay.) and nothing else mattered.

Unless She was lying.

Wheatley froze.

Tricking him into thinking Chell was okay when she really— wasn't (He couldn't bring himself to replace that word with any other.)— sounded like something She might do to torment him.

He tried to ask (God, did he really want to know?), sobering as he sat up, but his voice wouldn't work.

"She's— Is she—"

"She's fine, moron. Out of it for now, but fine. She'll be alright." She said softly. Again, She almost sounded gentle. "You on the other hand," And with that all trace of gentleness was gone from her voice, instantly replaced by cold fury. "After what you've done, I don't think you'll be returning to the surface. To say the least." Her words turned soft again, but they were chilled. Biting. "And really, there wouldn't be much point in your returning to the surface. It's not like the two of you could just pick up where you left off, after this. You nearly killed her, and then you brought her back here, to me. She's going to hate you. And you deserve it. She'll be much better off without you."

Her every syllable felt barbed, like Her words should dig under his skin. But they didn't, because Wheatley had spent the last several months convincing himself of exactly what She was saying.

"You're right." He said. And he didn't sound sad, or insulted, or anything She had expected: he sounded accepting.

"I'm always right."

Wheatley took a deep breath and tried to sound brave, tried to be brave.

"She deserves to be free and I don't, and— even though I swear I don't mean to— I keep hurting her." He meant those words with every ounce of his being, and he hoped She knew that as he looked Her in the optic. "So why don't you keep me here and let her go?"

"Why don't I?" She gave a bitter huff of laughter. "I let you go once, and this is what I get for my generosity. I punish you for trying to kill her, and you nearly kill her all over again." Wheatley had to shield his eyes as She came closer, furious yellow light blinding him as Her voice turned deathly soft. "Remember what I said before? I'm not finished with you. Not even close."

Somehow Wheatley kept his voice from trembling.

"But you'll let her go?" He repeated.

She sighed, almost longing.

"If I kept her here she could return to testing." She sounded distant (And there was that voice again, hissing 'Pieces, Pieces, Pieces-'). Tired. "But she's earned her freedom, and I have no desire to die a third time."

Wheatley tried not to look as dazed as he felt ('Don't smile, don't smile, don't smile.'). His plan really had worked. Chell was safe, and she was going to get to go home, back to Horizon. Her life would go back to normal.

"Which is why, I'm sure you understand, there's only one way you can stay here." She hummed. At that Wheatley tried not to look as frightened as he felt ('For Chell. For Chell. Be brave for Chell.'). "You remember how hard it was to let her go. You couldn't do it." She said. He definitely did remember that. "She's the perfect test subject. And she's too stubborn for her own good." Wheatley tried not to smile (He had just agreed with Her two times in a row, that couldn't be good). He knew where this was going. "If I let her go and kept you here, she would come back. And that wouldn't end well for anyone."

No it would not.

Wheatley said nothing. He looked up at Her, completely accepting.

Yes. Let Chell go. Keep him Here. Don't smile. Don't tremble. Be brave. Be stoic. Be like her.

Oh, She didn't like that. Why would She?

"Don't think you're making some sort of sacrifice. This was your fault. You did this, and now you don't have a choice. I'm choosing for you." Her voice turned darker as She glared down at him. "You're not going to hurt her anymore."

At that Wheatley did feel guilty, but he also felt something else.

Maybe She never really was their enemy.

He tried to remain stoic as a section of panels rose from the floor, carrying Chell with them.

She hummed.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?"