Edit: Went back, fixed a few things.

Umbrella

Chell dragged herself from bed at six, glancing up at the window. It was one of those dark, heavy days, the ones that weighed her down and made her think of things best forgotten. People walked back and forth in the street, dark, heavy, warm coats wrapped around them, turning them into a thick fog to accompany the mood of the day. In fact, the only color she could see was a red umbrella someone had prematurely opened in anticipation of rain as he read the map hanging on the wall across from her apartment. She smiled sleepily and went downstairs to breakfast.

Standing at the bus station at nine, a flash of color caught her eye. A man with a red umbrella stood a little ways off, his face buried in a tourist's map, his eyebrows pulled down in a frown. He had a long yellow raincoat, tall black boots, and thick brown gloves to protect him from the damp and the chill. She smiled to herself, glancing away, thinking about how dry and hot his home must be if this little drizzle made him bundle up so thickly. Glancing back, she caught a flash of glasses and blue eyes, which quickly brought her eyes front-and-center to the bus sign. She could never look at a pair of blue eyes without thinking of him.

Stepping into the diner at twelve, she saw the red umbrella in the stand. The young man stood proudly behind the counter, decked out in a white button-up shirt, black pants and tie. His hair was a tangled mess of wavy strawberry blonde hair, she noticed, and he was truly ridiculously tall. As he typed something into the cash register, she realized he still hadn't taken off his thick leather gloves, and wondered why the manager allowed that.

He looked up.

Blue eyes meet grey. They both freeze.

Chell turned around and walked out. She'd get lunch somewhere else.

Walking in the park at three, she spots a flash of red through the trees. When she goes to investigate, though, it's only a little girl in a colorful raincoat playing in the puddles.

She's strangely disappointed.

Eating dinner at six, she watches the street. Someone with a red umbrella enters the restaurant across the street, and sits down in a window seat. She's made sure she has a good view without being visible herself, feeling a bit like a stalker. She wishes he would look up, but he just stares at his food the whole time, before getting up and leaving the money on the table, supper untouched.

For some reason, watching him disappear into the crowded street, she feels guilty.

Getting everything set up for tomorrow at nine, she glances out the window and feels her heart clench. He's across the street again, looking forlorn and lost under his bright red umbrella. She tells herself he's probably waiting for someone, and that if he's still there in an hour, she'll go talk to him.

At ten it's started to rain again. Through the mist, she can still see that umbrella.

At eleven it's begun in earnest. Though the world is running down her window like cheap watercolors, she can still see him, leaning forwards, looking up and down the street.

At twelve, it is honestly pouring. Her window seems to put everything through a heavy-duty blur filter, but there's still a smudge of red out there. She gives up and goes out.

His watch said it was eleven fifty-five, and he'd begun to think he won't see her again. He was sure this was the address he was given, but he wouldn't put it past Her to have lied about it. One week, he'd asked for, to find his human friend and apologize, and maybe see if she'd take him back. One week, She'd said, and god knows I won't get between the lunatic and what she wants. But if it's not you, and I can almost guarantee it won't be, or if you don't find her, you'll be glad to know that I have your punishment planned out in great detail.

He was shocked he'd gotten the week.

And now, crouched under the bright red umbrella he'd bought on his first day out, he suddenly understood why: the chances of finding one human in a country of thou-no, millions, were so infinitesimal as to be nearly nonexistent. And failing hurt like nothing else, except possibly guilt.

"Hey."

He looks up, surprised, at the voice by his shoulder. She's soaking wet, standing there in nothing but a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, her dark hair plastered against her face and neck. Her smile is tentative, but it's there, though, once she realizes who he is, he doubts it'll last. Still, he gives her a shaky smile of his own.

"Ah, hallo."

For a single second, her shoulders tense. Then, slowly, they relax.

"Can I join you?" she asks, gesturing to the bench. He nods, sliding to the side and lifting his umbrella so that it covers her too. They sit beside eachother in silence for a long thirty seconds. She leans back, her face turned up towards the rain, while he tries to avoid as much of the water as possible.

Finally, she asks the question that's been bothering her all day.

"…Wheatley?"

"Yes, luv?"

More silence.

"...How?"

"How what? Oh, wait, is it the, ah, human thing?"

A nod.

"Not really sure myself, luv. Was paying attention, hard not to, very painful, but still, very technical. Didn't, didn't catch quite everything that was going on at the time. Blacking out definitely didn't help either…"

She snorted. He glances over at her, his nervous, hopeful smile stretched across his face. She just sits there for another few seconds, eyes closed, a passive smirk on her lips.

She sighs. "Why?"

"…Why what? Um…why the human thing, or why the…y'know, Back There."

"Why the red umbrella?"

"What?"

She gives him a look. He glances at his watch before replying. Eleven fifty-seven.

"I…I liked it. It's…cheerful. Encouraging. Like a, a faulty turret, I guess." He stares at his rubber boots, hands clasped between his knees. "Not much red Back There, either. And rain, I mean, water falling from the sky? No thank you! I'd rather not risk shorting out, human or not."

She nods to herself. He seems like himself again: stammering, flustered, nervous Wheatley. And even if he is corrupted, she can defend herself so much easier against a human than a robot.

She makes her decision and stands.

"Would you like to come in? I'll make you something to drink."

I like it better now.

I suppose I should give more info on my version of Wheatley...He's made of several different personalities, all patched together to try to amplify the parts that lined up (the bad ideas, naive/optimistic outlooks, etc.) I'll also be using this as an excuse to use several different versions of human!Wheatley in this. For the record, my own humanization is a shortish android, with faded red-tinted hair, big blue eyes, and white plasic skin (he was the one I pictured for Unbreakable.) The fully human Wheatleys and a couple of other android designs are all based on pictures I've seen and fanfics I've read, thrown together as is convenient and seems to fit the oneshot.

Please Read and Review.