( Single chapter update this week, everyone. Sorry about that. I should also let you know that I will probably not be posting any chapters next week. Reality is... consuming me at the moment. When I come back, however, I promise it'll be worth the wait! :D -Stella

P.S. Regarding Before the Recon, I've been getting a lot of concerned messages regarding North's armor enhancement. Seriously, I know my writing might sound crazy at certain points, but I actually know what I'm doing sometimes. Just trust me, okay? :] )

Sun streamed into my eyes the next morning, jerking me abruptly from sleep. I didn't open my eyes right away. Church was in the base's kitchen making coffee right about now, I was sure. Hopefully he had saved some for me before Caboose decided to feed some to Sheila through her gas tank again.

I opened my eyes and was not in my room at Blue base.

The previous day's events rushed into my mind, and I gasped, sitting straight up and looking around. I was in this apartment. The apartment Church claimed was mine.

Church, my brother.

I still didn't believe it. I didn't remember it.

Glancing around the bedroom, I realized that the other side of the bed was wrinkled and unkempt. My fiancé had slept here. He was somewhere around.

I leapt out of the bed, rushing around and attempting to find the mysterious figure in the apartment, but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until I checked the kitchen for the second time that I saw a quick, handwritten note:

Hey, Ellen—I was so happy to come home to you safe and sound. I didn't want to wake you, so we'll talk tonight when we both get home from work. Love you! –D

I stared at the note. There was only one person I could be betrothed to now.

I swallowed hard and left the slip of paper sitting on the table, not quite sure how to react. I didn't want to think about it. I made sure to change quickly into some nice business attire, grabbing a laptop that could only be mine (it had a sky blue case) and Googling where the Bingle office building was. I printed out the directions and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry on my way out, determinedly thinking about anything else but who shared this apartment with me. I just needed to focus on figuring things out now. I couldn't afford to get distracted.

Entering the apartment complex's parking lot, I remembered the nurse telling me I owned a Chevrolet. Grinning, I pressed the lock button on my keys in the direction of a gorgeous classic Corvette, but that was certainly not the car that honked back at me.

I stared, pressing the lock button again to make sure I wasn't missing anything. My car was no beautiful Stingray convertible, but a shitty, oversized Chevy Sierra. A pickup truck.

Groaning and gazing wistfully at the Corvette, I entered the truck and turned the keys in the ignition, hoping they wouldn't work.

They did.

I sighed and made my way through the city's streets to Bingle, chastising myself for expecting better. When I reached the enormous Bingle headquarters, I parked my awful car and entered the building, heading straight toward the front desk. A map indicated Accounting was on the top floor quite close to the CEO's office. And, of course, the top floor was the eleventh. Typical.

I reached the top floor and tentatively stepped out of the elevator, wondering where to go next. The floor was comprised of a number of roomy cubicles, and I had no idea which one was mine. However… knowing the pattern of numerical events that had happened around here, I could probably guess.

I walked along the rows of cubicles, stopping in front of cubicle 011. The plaque read ELLEN CHURCH.

I rolled my eyes and settled myself into what was apparently my office. Had no one noticed how that number had been haunting me here?

I sat down and opened my laptop, guessing the password correctly and proceeding to check my emails. After going through what work I needed to get done, I found my initial suspicions had been right: Accounting was dull.

"Hello there, Ellen!"

I jumped and spun around. A man was leaning over from the cubicle next to mine, his eyes startlingly blue. He smiled happily at me.

"Remember me? I heard you got a nasty bout of amnesia there, but you've got to remember me! I mean, we've only been working together, for, what, years now? I don't even remember. Anyway, how have you been? I'm surprised you even made it here at all, what with not remembering anything. That would be bloody awful, that would. I don't know how you can deal with that. I can hardly make it here myself, and I take the rail!"

I stared at the rambling man, my jaw hanging open rudely as he continued babbling. Now I was encountering people I had definitely never met before. I went through every CIA Agent I had ever met in my mind, but not one matched the face of this man.

I interrupted his speaking when I figured he wasn't about to stop.

"Um, I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Aw, I can't believe you don't remember!" He held out his hand. "I'm Wheatley, Ellen, remember now?"

I shook his hand, still utterly baffled. "Oh, um, hello. Nice to see you again."

"Like I was saying, you've probably got a minor case of serious brain damage. Not to worry, though, not to worry. You can't get it as bad as those over in Product Testing. I heard that their abilities to speak—"

"Uh, Wheatley, how does everyone know I have amnesia?" I asked him. "Isn't that sort of a private thing?"

"Chell over in Product Testing told me," he said seriously. "You know how she talks."

"Sure," I said slowly. "Listen, can I talk to our boss? Do you know where he is?"

"You want to talk to the boss?" Wheatley said. "Yeah, he's in his office, of course. Always is. Just down the hall over there. He's bloody intimidating, though. Brilliant, though. Never met a smarter man in my—"

"For the love of God," came a monotonous voice from the cubicle on the other side of Wheatley's. "Some of us are trying to work. Do you ever shut up?"

I peeked over and a severe-looking woman was glancing critically at Wheatley, pretty much ignoring me.

"Oh, stop being such a stiff, Glados!" Wheatley replied. "You work so much you're almost like a robot or something."

She rolled her eyes. "Just shut up, you moron."

Wheatley's face darkened at that. "I am not a moron."

I decided that it would be best to leave my two arguing coworkers at that point, and I made my way down the hall Wheatley had indicated. I reached the large office door labeled "CEO" and knocked nervously, hoping against hope that Hale would be sitting at the desk.

"Come in," a voice said from inside.

I opened the office door, expecting my boss to be some serious, intimidating, academic-looking figure.

It was Caboose.