The first thing Wheatley noticed when he opened his eyes was that Chell was sitting next to him.

They were back at the hospital in Horizon, and she was sitting next to what used to be her bed in what used to be his chair. Wheatley took a moment to appreciate the irony of this, along with several other things: the fact that he was (alive and) in a bed, and the lovely expression on Chell's face.

She looked enraptured, her head tilted and her brow creased in thought as she read by the glow of the lamplight. She seemed focused, but relaxed. Wheatley hadn't seen Chell look so peaceful since before she'd gotten sick. He watched her for awhile before debating over whether or not he should try to get her attention.

There was no one else around. He thought he'd heard other people earlier, but now it was just the two of them here with the door closed. He wasn't sure why that felt important but it did.

Wheatley was also very tired (which made no sense because he'd just woken up). He reasoned that he could probably go back to sleep and Chell wouldn't notice, but he wanted to talk to her, and that won out.

"Hello." His voice came out a little softer than he meant for it to, but it was still enough to make Chell jump. She gave a little huff of laughter as she looked up, then smiled as her eyes met his. Wheatley turned pink. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt, or startle you or anything." He wrung his hands, staring up at her and trying to think something to say. "Are you okay?"

She looked more than okay.

Her eyes were bright and her color had come back. She looked strong, and mischievous, and too smart for her own good. But she also looked cautious. Instead of really answering his question Chell smiled and shook her head, dubious, as if scolding him.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Wheatley started to say 'Define okay,' but he stopped himself. Physically he felt pretty rotten: everything hurt and he felt sick and exhausted, but mentally he was ecstatic. Couldn't be better. Chell was safe and he was back in Horizon with her. What had been the odds of that happening?

But he couldn't exactly say that, either, so he settled for

"I'll live."

Chell smiled at him, warm and affectionate, and Wheatley smiled back, lopsided and confused. There was that feeling again, that ticklish blooming sensation somewhere in his chest, and it reminded him of something else. Something he wasn't sure had actually happened.

"Sooo," Wheatley started, sinking down into the mattress, "Where exactly would you say we're… at right now? Because I know I'm a little out of it and everything, but I could've sworn that, uh, before I took that little nap there, you— kissed me." Chell's expression was intrigued but not particularly telling. Wheatley scrambled. "Which is okay if it didn't happen! Because, you know, when I thought about the very slim possibility of ever seeing you again, that was nowhere near the reaction I expected." He turned red as she smirked. "And neither was that." He said blankly, fighting the urge to smile. "What's that smile about, lady? What're you up to?"

At that Chell's smirk turned coy. She closed her book, leaving it in the chair as she climbed into bed next to him.

"Oh." Wheatley managed.

Chell's smirk faded to something more gentle as she settled next to him, carefully taking his hands in hers. A little laugh escaped him as she did this, nervous and bubbly, and he found himself inching backward as she came closer, smiling all the while. The light in Chell's eyes was timid and brave, and Wheatley froze, hopeful and terrified as they met his.

Her voice was soft, and her words made it even more beautiful.

"I love you." She said.

And then she kissed him.

It was soft and slow, and Wheatley was too surprised to do anything other than melt against her, his eyes fluttering shut as Chell's hands tangled gently in his hair. His hands slid to her waist seemingly of their own accord, pulling her closer, and he felt her smile before they broke apart.

Chell sat back, giving him room to breathe. She was a lovely shade of pink while Wheatley was red, and the two of them exchanged a sheepish, helpless smile.

Wheatley tried to find his voice (something he'd rarely had trouble with before), but there were tears in his eyes and he couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence. He'd thought he'd never hear Chell say that. He'd thought she would never trust him enough to do that. And now he was just so grateful, and happy, and shocked, he didn't know what to say.

Wheatley choked out a laugh through tears.

"I love you, too."

Chell laid back beside him, smiling brilliantly, and he wrapped an arm around her as her head lulled against his shoulder. She hummed contentedly as they shifted closer together, and Wheatley still couldn't believe that any of this was happening. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to hold her.

"I have for awhile now." Chell admitted. Her voice was low. "But at first I didn't understand it, and then I got sick and I didn't want to hurt you any worse than I already had to." Wheatley closed his eyes and held her harder. "And then I thought I lost you. I was so scared." She buried her face in the crook of his neck as her voice wavered. "You were gone for months. I thought— I really thought you were gone. I thought I would never get to tell you."

"I'm sorry." Wheatley murmured. Chell nudged him, frowning, and he realized his mistake. "I'm— I mean. I'm not! Gone, that is. Look! Hello!" He waved at her, smiling a little too brightly. Hers was much more timid as she peeked up at him. "I'm right here. Very solid and alive, and vocal. About both of those things. If it makes you feel better I'll keep talking for the rest of my life. You'll never have a moment of peace ever again."

She nuzzled him, her face hidden once again, and Wheatley swore he could feel her smile.

"Good."

"I missed you, too." He said softly. "And… I'm glad you did. Tell me." Wheatley felt his face turn red as his head came to rest atop hers. "I love you, too. But you already knew that, didn't you? I never stopped. Even when you told me to." He remembered where they were (she had almost died in this room), and it felt like too much. He swallowed. "I wanted to tell you again. I tried, but I thought— It seemed wrong." Wheatley smiled wryly, holding up his hand which now had a tube in the back of it. "But now we've switched."

"You'll live." Chell reminded him. The light in her eyes was almost teasing, but she took his hand with all the gentleness he'd once used to take hers. "You need some fluids, and food, and rest, but you're going to be okay."

Well, that was a relief.

"And you're already okay?" Wheatley asked. He knew it seemed silly to her, but the last time he'd seen her she'd still looked sick, and when he'd asked her a minute ago she hadn't really answered him.

Chell smiled, squeezing his hand.

"I am now."

Something in his chest fluttered pleasantly.

"And you're not mad at me?" Wheatley winced.

Maybe that had been a stupid question.

"I should be." Chell said pointedly. Her expression was close to one of her warning looks, but something about it was a little more teasing.

"Which means you're not." Wheatley half boasted, half asked.

"But I should be." Chell repeated. She relented when she saw the grin on his face, sleepy and utterly adoring. "We'll talk about it later." She said.

Wheatley knew that was Chell for 'You're still in trouble.'

So he was surprised when she ran a hand through his hair, her voice turning softer.

"You should go back to sleep."

"Only if you will, too." Wheatley hummed, leaning into her touch. "Don't make me steal your book."

Chell smiled to herself as she turned out the light, and fought the urge to shake her head.

"Stubborn."

Chell and Wheatley sat on the couch, curled up together under a pile of blankets. They had been home for several days now, and they'd spent most of that time cuddling, and talking, and lounging to the drum of the rain on the roof. When the weather cleared they would go on an outing with the town's children, but for now they enjoyed the calm of each other's company.

"I still can't believe you cut your hair." Wheatley lamented, running his fingers through what was left of Chell's hair.

Claire had called it a pixie cut. It was shorter than Chell had ever worn her hair, but it was different, freeing, and she liked it. After she'd Returned for the second time everything felt out of her hands, and so she'd changed one of the few things she could still control.

Chell smiled at him teasingly.

"You don't like it?" She asked.

"I didn't say that!" Wheatley said, insulted at the idea that he would ever insult her. "It's just—" He gestured vaguely. "No more ponytails."

Chell nodded, something in her expression turning a little more solemn.

"That's the idea." She said.

Wheatley watched as she returned to scanning through the book of poems, looking for something he imagined she'd know when she saw it.

Every time he looked at her he was reminded of how lucky he was. Lucky that she was safe, lucky that she forgave him, lucky that she loved him. Lucky that he was here with her again. Wheatley was the luckiest person on Earth, and all because of her.

He nuzzled her gently, and Chell felt much the same way.

She knew that soon they would need to talk about more complicated things: memories, and emotions, and past decisions neither one of them had any right to make— but they would make it through all of that because they had made it through everything else. For now Chell was content to think of Spring. She thought of the future, of gardens, and smiled at the book in her lap.

"New feet within my garden go,

New fingers stir the sod;

A troubadour upon the elm

Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green,

New weary sleep below;

And still the pensive spring returns,

And still the punctual snow..."

The End

(For now, at least.)

Thank you so much to everyone who stuck around through that massive hiatus, thank you to everyone who read, and if you left reviews and or bought me a coffee you have my eternal gratitude. Thank you all so much. I'm more grateful than I can put into words.

Once again, I'd like to give a huge thank you to The_Pie_Is_A_Lie and mango-sass for betaing. Thank you to wheatleyandchell (faroutfangirl) for your constant support (and live-blogging this entire fic!). Thank you to the portal writer's discord and everyone who's listened to me fight with and rant about Pieces over the years. And thank you, thank you, thank you to those of you who stuck around through my many hiatuses to read this ending. You have been so patient and kind, and your support has meant the world. Thank you!

As some of you may know, Pieces was originally supposed to be 64 chapters long, and was cut down to 40. I've already gotten several comments asking for a sequel to Pieces. While I appreciate the sentiment, I seriously doubt that will happen. I started working on Pieces in 2015 and just finished it this year, so I'm ready to work on other things. I will, however, write more drabbles for the Pieces-verse, and maybe one day you'll get to see some of those cut chapters.

Until then, I'm happy to talk with you guys and answer any questions you might have. Thanks again! ^^