Opposite

She was orange, strong and stubborn and clever and warm. She fought her way through any challenge presented to her, never stopping, never giving in, solving every puzzle. She at first gave the impression of a clean-cut, linear thinker, until you saw how easily her thoughts could jump out of the box and just keep going. She was covered in scars, old and new, physical and mental, and knew she was broken beyond fixing. She used to consider herself a shallow, one-dimensional person: all she wanted was to escape. She didn't care about her past, she didn't care about where she was, or who She was, all she wanted was out. And then she met him.

It was strange, the contrast between them.

He was blue, nervous and fluttery and bumbling and bright. He stuttered and stammered his way through conversations she took no part in, jumping at the slightest sound, never really sure what he was doing, but convinced that it would all work out in the end. He perhaps had a small streak of pessimism in him somewhere, considering how over the top his panics could be, but he hid it well most of the time. His shell was bright and white, even when it was damaged beyond belief and covered in dirt, one bright blue eye sparkling happily out from behind the grime. He could never be repaired, but he didn't seem to mind, happy to lead the way through the dark halls, forcing away the silence with his chatter, while she never said a word.

She was red, blood pulsing through her veins, her muscles, her heart, her brain. She could dodge and move with accuracy and speed, a blur of action and violence. She'd wanted vengeance for the new friend she'd known for so little time, who'd woken her up and lead her as close to out as she'd ever been. She was going to kill Her all over again, and now that she knew how, she was going to bring Her right back and do it again. For him.

He was yellow, terrified and rushed, desperately trying to keep up. The rails seemed less friendly now that She was back, but without his friend to carry him, he didn't have much choice. He wanted her back, his human friend who listened to his stories and his advice and actually cared enough to pick him up when he fell. Granted, she didn't catch him, but he hadn't expected to fall that fast either; couldn't really blame her, could he? He needed to wait until the time was right, until it was almost safe, at least, to make himself known.

She was teal, sad and tired and oh so free. It made no sense that this thing she'd fought so hard for would hurt so much to finally gain, no matter how bittersweet the means. She'd plowed her way through that wheatfield for days, finally finding her way to a small town. They seemed to be used to people showing up out of the blue, and didn't seem to care. They gave her a small apartment and found her a job. And oh, oh she hates it, because if you never talk, if you can't talk, no one ever even looks at you straight unless they want something from you right now. She learns quickly not to trust anyone who looks at her, because for sure they were using her. She finds herself staring out her window late at night, missing his waterfall voice, and his brilliant gaze, and his mild personality.

He was lilac, guilty and shameful and so very lonely. The other cores were happier arguing amongst themselves than listening to him. He'd spent so much time talking at everyone he'd never realized the difference it made to be listened to until he met her. Sure, she made him flustered and embarrassed and scared, but it was far outweighed by the downright tremendous feeling of getting a smile, or a worried glance, or one of those amazing laughs. He supposed that somewhere down there she was either free or testing; he hoped it was the former. She'd worked so long and hard for it, he prayed to any god that might listen that she'd won her freedom. He didn't know how much life he had in his battery, but he knew that he was going to deserve every second he spent in space for what he did to her. It might not be Android Hell, but for sure it was Purgatory, and he's glad she dropped him and didn't end up here with him, where the only option available would have been death. Still, he misses her intense grey eyes, and her strong hands, and that way she cocked her head to the side to show she was listening when he hesitated. And, above all, he wishes he could apologize.

Blue and orange cannot share a space,

But neither can they part.

The same for friends,

(Those close at heart,)

That no matter what the distance,

Or the actions, or the pain,

Once you've shared that deep connection

You can never be free again.

For once a portal opens

It can never close;

Red and yellow shine their light,

Teal and mauve their glow.

One can move, the other hold

A window to the past,

But until they both are snuffed out

That connection shall ever last.

...I hate sending Wheatley to space...

Was inspired by all those lovely Chelley pics where Chell is done in all orange and Wheatley in blue. I was originally going to stick to the main portal comparison, but it just wasn't done. I wanted to draw out the metaphor more...and then I remembered to co-op. ATLAS's portals are tinted green and purple, while P-body's are yellow and a violently bright shade of red (always throws me whenever I see a pic of it...always!) The poem at the end was a last-minute thing that I think came out pretty well.

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