Summer had come and gone, and the world around Chell wilted with the colors of fall. She longed for winter. The cold better suited her mood, and paired with the snow would provide an excuse to stay hauled up at home.
As it was she rarely went farther than the steps of the front porch.
The children tried to help.
They made every excuse to drag Chell out of the house, or else to visit her, as did everyone else.
Most days she found a reason to stay home, but sometimes the quiet or the loneliness got to her, and she oblogied. Today the children had brought her to the farm. The puppy that had scared her half to death all those months ago had grown up to her knees, and spent the afternoon racing between her and the children before settling at Chell's feet. The air was cool and crisp. The trees were weighed down with apples, and she watched the children retrieve them with a bittersweet smile.
Out of habit her gaze was torn between the present and the past— or maybe the future. She kept one eye on the wheat fields whenever she could. She didn't know what she was looking for, or what she would do if or when it came. But still she watched.
"Hey Chell, think fast!"
She caught the apple Daniel tossed her purely out of reflex, and smiled at the surprised expression on his face. She may not be quite as fearsome as she once was (not yet, at least), but that didn't mean she couldn't be if she wanted to.
"Whoa," Auburn breathed. She had climbed to the top of one of the apple trees to take in the view, but the wonder in her expression was accompanied by something else as she pointed towards the fields. "Do you see that?"
Chell was on her feet in an instant, hopes and fears kicking up her heart rate, but she didn't see anything. A few of the other children scrambled into nearby trees to share Auburn's view, and their reactions were similar to hers: hopeful disbelief.
"Is that—"
"It can't be—"
Chell made for the road, and that was when she saw it.
Orange.
Chell ran.
Someone more practical than her yelled, "Get Sam! Get Michael!" and they wouldn't have said that unless they saw a person. She didn't know who or what it was (Hope is the thing with feathers)— all she had seen was a speck of orange in a sea of wheat (That perches in the soul)— but friend or foe, she would meet it head on before it reached Horizon (And sings the tune without the words). Chell was done feeling frightened and helpless (And never stops). This was either someone to help or something to fight, and she would gladly face either one (At all).
She ran faster.
There was nothing but wheat in this direction, and while in theory that should make it easier for Chell to find what she was looking for, she didn't see anything else. If her voice worked she would call to whatever might be out there, and maybe get an answer, but of course it didn't.
None of that stopped her.
She ignored the sting of the wheat against her skin. She ran until her lungs burned, and even then she only stopped because she tripped.
Over something that yelped.
Laying at Chell's feet was a heap of lanky limbs and Aperture orange. Blue eyes met grey (neither one had ever thought they'd see that exact shade again), and Chell froze inside and out, attempting to process more emotions than she knew what to do with.
Wheatley looked up at her as if he had expected to see her there, as if it could be no one else. He looked pitiful, and dirty, and weak, but somehow he was still smiling.
He gave a shaky laugh at Chell's expression, which was one of total, open shock.
"We have got to stop meeting like this."
The sound of his voice was enough to snap Chell out of her reverie. She choked out a shocked little laugh of her own, and in one swift motion she yanked him to his feet and into a hug, and they nearly fell over again. She held Wheatley too tight (because he was alive and real and this proved it), shaking with half hysterical laughter until tears streaked down her face, and then she was sobbing from happiness, which she hadn't known was something that could happen.
There were so many things she wanted to tell him but the words wouldn't come out (Stupid, useless voice-), and even if they did there weren't enough words; words weren't enough. Chell tried to catch her breath as Wheatley traced gentle patterns onto her back, nuzzling into the crook of his neck before pulling away enough so she could see him.
His heart ached at the sight of her eyes, ringed with tears, and so he didn't notice the sudden light in them.
"It's okay, love. I'm right here. I'm s-"
Chell kissed him, putting all words to shame, and Wheatley fell for a very different reason.