A/N: I'd just like to take a minute to say a huge, belated THANK YOU for all of the reviews! Each and every one brings a smile to my face. I feel now that I have many high expectations to live up to, and I'll strive to not disappoint. :D

- Suspended Animation for 9 9 9 9 9 9 -

The door opened.

On the other side stood a petite woman with ashen skin and black hair tied in a loose ponytail. She stared up at the blue-glowing sphere above her with wide grey eyes, and it was only her incredible reserves of self-control that kept her from shouting out. Fortunately, he took care of the shouting.

"AAAH! Aaah! Oh, god, you look terr- uh, good. Lookin' good, actually. Are you okay? Are you - no, you no what, never mind. I tell you how you look, you look top-of-the-line, ready to take on any one of those other test subjects, yeah, with their... um... muscles... and ample amounts of food, and... you know what, I'm sure you'll be fine. You'll have no trouble taking care of yourself, I can tell that right now, yes, just looking at you." He peered at her, his optic tilting slightly to one side. "You can take care of yourself, right?"

She was way ahead of him, already sizing him up, already trying to make sense of what he meant by those other test subjects, and making out the tiny Aperture Science logo by his optic. So she was still trapped. She hadn't escaped. Nothing had changed.

But there was a silence. The personality sphere was still staring at her. She nodded, to answer his question.

"Ah, great! Knew it. Knew ol' Wheatley had picked a winner. Um, what should I call you?"

She shrugged. She remembered her name, one of the few rock-solid, reliable things that she could remember ("Chell," a simple sound, but fundamental to her), but she didn't care what "Wheatley" called her. What if he was only another offshoot of her? Chell did not believe in giving her, or part of her, or anything that answered to her, the satisfaction of speech.

"Eh? Shrug? W-well, you can be that way, sure..." he was moving now, moving on the track in the ceiling to a panel directly above her bed. "Maybe you can't remember. You might have a smidgen of the ol' brain damage - typical of tests subjects who've been in suspended animation for a few months, and you've been in for quite a lot longer - but don't you worry about it, I'm going to get us out of here. Um, yes, you might want to hold on to something tight, and - " he darted his optic towards the ceiling, not as if looking for something, but as if distracted, "What's that saying that she's been bandying about lately? Ah! And may the odds be evened in your favor, lass!"

And as he vanished into the ceiling port, Chell got the horrible premonition that he wasn't joking when he said "Hold on tight."

- Testing Observation Decks -

Chell, her orange jumpsuit knotted around her waist, jogged through the halls and cubicles of what the Personality Sphere beside her had dubbed the Testing Observation Decks, listening to that same sphere's exposition of current events.

"So, a few weeks ago this bloke comes in –rust! Rusty patch on the floor! – real unhealthy looking fellow, not that I am an expert on health in the slightest… though I probably should be…" Wheatley cleared his electronic throat nervously. "But this man did not look it. Anyway, so he attaches this generator to the structure, feeding it from Outside, can you believe it? And he woke Her up, and she began to clean up the facility like it was, I don't know, Christmas, and the Prime Minister is coming down for plum pudding – watch out for those wires there."

The wires led to a circuitboard, which blocked the entire rest of the hallway. All right. Dead end. Chell looked up and saw a gap in the wall, and beyond, a light – a sterile, fluorescent light that suggested testing. She looked for a way to climb up…

"And then, two days ago, they bring humans down here. While I know there's perfectly good test subjects lurking around in the annexes and things! And now we're back in business, except there's 24 tests going on at once. Well, there were. Now it's… just sixteen. It's very weird, a big booming noise goes off every time one of them fails their test. Do you follow?"

She nodded, squeezing her way through a narrow crawlspace to emerge in the observation deck on the other side, where –

"There, see? Through the glass? That's a test in progress, that is—Whoa!" he cried at her reaction. She ran straight to the glass, her eyes fixed on the test subject.

"Do you know her? Wait – now that I look at it – the two of you do look rather alike…"

Chell ran her hands over the frosted window, the glass whole and only semi-transparent. Then she saw that the test subject had stopped running. She was looking up – Chell waved, her hands feeling absurdly light without the weight of the portal gun. She saw the figure, in a red and black jumpsuit, give a cautious wave back. Chell wanted to break the glass, leap down below, and greet the first human she'd seen since – since she woke up the first time – but she could never forget the security cameras.

She would see Chell. She would spray her with neurotoxin on the spot, her and the human down there.

She stepped back from the glass, freezing the memory in her mind's eye of the girl below her, with her braid of dark hair and her eyes like a kestrel, even through the distortion of the window.

'I will find her,' Chell promised herself. 'I will know her name.'

Behind her, Wheatley was still wittering away. "… Not that I have much experience, recently, that is to say, with humans and human appearance, but I can make out – you know, dark hair, gray eyes, kind of petite-looking, eyes like, like whatchamacallems…" She looked at him, and his voice trailed off. "Yes?"

"Get me down to her. Without the security cameras seeing."

He started briefly at the sound of her voice, but he wasn't stunned for long. "What? Oh, yes – of course – I can do that easy – easy peasy lemon squeezy! You just leave it to old Wheatley here."

- Test In Progress: Do Not Enter -

In the testing chamber, Katniss tried to focus on the test – Aerial Faith Plates and a tricky looking Emancipation Grid – but she was rattled by that grief encounter. A person behind the glass? She'd hoped there had been people to watch over her, even if they were Gamemakers, but her better sense told her that she was alone, alone underground – don't think about that – and probably miles away from Peeta.

But a person – in an orange suit, dressed like a criminal – Katniss hopped up and down, looking like a jogger prepared for run – it was a person, and who was it? Another tribute? Someone from outside who had gotten in? Why would they try to get in?

Focus. This was the Game. Keep doing the test. Loneliness is normal for a Game. Except she hadn't expected to be lonely… she'd expected to be with Peeta until she died, to conspire with him.

(Someone behind the glass…)

Focus on the test, and maybe the way will be clear.

Besides, at the end of this test, there might be food.

Katniss cradled the black portal device and shot two flame-colored portals – one red, and one yellow. Her tests had been geared for her archery skills: the only portal-able surfaces were small and tended to be either hard to spot or moving very quickly. She made sure to occasionally rest, hugging her abdomen where a fictional fetus was growing, and to sigh audibly for Peeta from time to time.

Hopefully that made enough of a good show.

- Relaxation Vault -

Adrenal vapor and artificial light: you may be confused about the passage of time.

GLaDOS kept the test subjects on a rotating wheel, so that every hour of the day there were multiple tests going, and at least four test subjects getting sleep. More efficient for her observation purposes, more fun for the audience at home. (Although that some Gamemakers in the Capitol thought that this infinite capacity supercomputer could have taken a few lessons in plotting and dramatic tension.)

But Chell, safely ensconced in the abandoned human observation rooms, was watching the tests in progress with a very different opinion – evaluating each subject that was still alive, asking, why were they in here? Where they had come from? Why were they numbered in that order?

Chell was patient. She waited until Test Subject 24 was safely in the Relaxation Vault, with the red beams of turrets forming an enneagram around her, chorusing "Good night" like a carillion of bells. She bided her time, before Wheatley could – hopefully subtly – override the security cameras and allow Chell the chance to talk to the girl. In the meantime, she watched Test Subject 24 on the cameras, as she got ready to sleep.

Chell was just reflecting that she had never gotten time to sleep when she took her tests, but the girl's next move surprised her. The test subject had moved onto the bed, but was still sitting up. She rubbed her stomach with one hand, and was singing. Singing a lullaby.

Chell gaped. "She's pregnant?"

"What?" Wheatley asked. "Oh, pregnant? You mean that thing you humans do when you get read to pop out another one? Oh, that's a nasty way to be, I've heard. Renders you entirely unfit for testing."

Chell shrugged, and glanced again at the number of tests the girl had completed. She seemed to be doing pretty well for herself.

After a decent interval of time, Chell gave the signal to Wheatley.

"All right, commencing break-in… Um. We've been over this. Can't do this while you're watching." Obligingly, Chell turned around. "Thanks muchly! Right, then," he said, with much self-importance. "Hello, down there! Yes, lovely to see you, Aperture Science Panopticon Enforcement Agent, how are you doing? Oh, just charming. How about, how about I let you go out for a bit of a night on the town… I'll take it over for, say, an hour or two, maybe not even that – no, no, you really, really want to take a break, Panopticon Enforcer, and don't you dare call distress—aha, right, much better, I told you so, didn't I? All clear!" he added to Chell. "Just hop on down, I'm looping the security footage as we speak. And I'll give you a holler if there're any problems, don't you worry about a thing."

Chell didn't need telling twice. She turned on her handheld lamp (powered by two potato batteries) and fastened it to her jumpsuit, around her waist. Then she entered the ventilation ducts that she'd memorized earlier in the day (? It was day, right?) and lifted up the loose panel in the floor.

The panel opened into the Relaxation Vault's ceiling. Below, Test Subject 24 was stirring restlessly in her dreams.

Chell dropped to the floor, her long-fall boots absorbing the shock and sound. She approached the sleeper – she was younger than Chell, that surprised her – with the intent of shaking her arm to wake her up.

Something made her think better of it: even in sleep, the girl's face looked hardened and angry, and the way she was twitching and muttering in her sleep made Chell think she was in the midst of a nightmare.

So instead Chell picked up the radio on the nightstand and turned it on.

Some muzak that in a less civilized age might have passed for salsa blared from Chell's hand. The test subject's eyes flitted open. She turned over, and her eyes met Chell's.

Chell just had time to register that her eyes were grey ('like mine') before the girl swung a fist at Chell, who dodged barely. The radio skidded away into the corner. Yes, shaking her by the arm would not have been a good move at all. But Chell appraised the situation at once, and took advantage. She gripped the girl's wrist like a portal device, and stared her down. "I don't want to hurt you," she said in a very low, very even voice.

"Of course you do," the girl answered. "Only one of us can win."

"No," Chell shook her head. "That's not it at all. Not at all."

The girl lashed at her again, but Chell had two hands. She stopped her. "I am not the enemy!"

For some reason that phrase stopped the girl, made her look at Chell – really look, not just glance to make sure of what she was fighting. She relaxed slightly. "You're the one – I saw you – behind the glass."

Chell nodded.

Still the girl was silent. She twisted her head around, checking corner after corner, and in a flash Chell realized what she was looking for. "The cameras are off."

She turned to face Chell again, the bones of her face thrown into stark relief by the yellow light of the lamp. "Are you sure?"

Wheatley was still up in the observation deck, probably wittering away to himself, cheerily incompetent, but he said he would stand guard. Chell had to believe him, just for now. "Yes."

The girl gave a deep sigh of relief. "What's your name?"

"My name is Chell." That was the first time that Chell could remember saying those words aloud, and a shiver went over her.

"What District are you from?"

"District?"

"You look like you could be from the Seam – where are you from?"

"I have no idea. Where are you from?"

"District…" the girl's eyes widened. "You don't even know me."

Chell's cheek twitched. 'Bit of an ego, have we?' "No, I don't."

"I'm from District Twelve." She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, and her hand absentmindedly continued running the length of her braid.

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"But it has to. You're a tribute, aren't you?"

"Tribute?"

"You weren't Reaped? You didn't win any Games?"

"No, I haven't – what Games? And you haven't told me your name."

The girl gave Chell a shrewd, appraising look before answering. Then she folded her legs under her and said, "My name is Katniss Everdeen. I was the victor of the Seventy-Fourth annual Hunger Games."

Chell offered, hesitantly, "Congratulations?"

Katniss gave Chell a smile, a clenched-jaw, tightly curled smile. "You really don't know."

Chell shook her head.

Katniss folded her arms around herself. "I was the Girl on Fire. I'm from the twelfth district of Panem – you have no idea how weird it is, to explain this—"

"How many districts?"

After a pause, Katniss answered, "Twelve. Every year the Districts must send two children – between the ages of twelve and eighteen – to the Hunger Games. Twenty-four children. They fight to the death. The last one alive gets to go home, a Victor."

Chell felt, for the first time, that her long fall boots would not support her. She backed up, her hand reaching out for the bedside table. She pulled it closer to the bed and sat down. "Fight to the death."

"Yes."

"And you – you –"

"I was a Victor. Once."

"Once?"

Katniss' eyes had been lowered, focused on the ceiling, but they flew open now, and her eyes held Chell's gaze like a vise. "Every twenty-five years there is a Quarter Quell, a game with some twist tied to how we Reap – how we select – the tributes. This is the seventy-fifth year of the Games. This year's tributes were Reaped from the pool," she took a deep breath, "of previous Victors. I was Reaped again, and they brought us here. I haven't seen Peeta or Finnick or anyone since I entered. Chell, you are in the arena for the seventy-fifth Hunger Games. And only the last tribute alive will get to leave."

To her own surprise, Chell bent forward, laughing. She saw the shock on Katniss' face, and tried to stop. Straightening up, she said, "Well, that's a better deal than I got. I was never allowed to leave."

"Where were you from before?"

"I don't remember. The first thing I remember is waking up in the Relaxation Chamber just like this one, a long time ago. I… I thought it was just a test, at first. I was given a portal device like you have, and I followed the instructions. But then the tests were over, and She tried to kill me."

"She - the person in charge of the arena?"

"The computer in charge of the arena."

"But she's so..."

"Believe me. She's an artificial intellience."

"And you escaped?"

Chell paused before answering. "I avoided her. And I found her mainframe. And I… I shut her down. I thought that I shut her down." Her voice was a fiercer, angrier whisper now. "I should have shut her down, what dragged me back in here…" she lifted her head, trying not to show any emotion, and failing. "I thought I escaped, but I was wrong. I was put back in cyrosleep. I don't know how long I was out. You say the Games have been going for seventy-five years?"

Katniss nodded. "What about the people in this facility? Didn't they do something?"

"There's no one else. There are no scientists behind the glass. Only me."

"So… the computer…"

"The A.I. Artificial Intelligence," she explained, to Katniss' confused look.

"Okay... the A.I. – they're the only Gamemaker. The sole one…"

"Gamemaker…?"

"The people who design the Games, run them, keep them 'exciting.'"

"That would be Her," Chell agreed. "She's the enemy."

Katniss' eyes took on a faraway stare. "Remember who the enemy is. My mentor told me that, before I entered the arena."

"And I told you," Chell leaned back, bouncing her feet off of the long-fall boots, "I am not the enemy."

"You're not a tribute."

Chell glared. "We already established that."

"You're not a tribute – that means we can be allies." A spark caught in her eyes. "All of the tributes except one have to die – but you're not a tribute – which means you can help me –"

Chell caught the idea. "And neither of us has to die, for us both to escape."

Now Katniss lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling. Then she jumped out of the bed and began to pace the narrow bed. "But if more of us escaped – if we could get Peeta out – "

Chell kept her thoughts on the matter to herself. Katniss ran her hands through her hair. "Haymitch said, remember who the enemy is. The enemy… is Her. The enemy is the Capitol. Chell, you escaped the facility before. And I—" she paused.

"What did you do?" Chell asked, before she noticed what Katniss was running her fingers over, lightly. It was a gold pin of a bird in a circle, pinned right over the Aperture label on her black and red jumpsuit.

"I really, really pissed off the Gamemakers last year." She smiled. "And I think I'm about to do it again." She met Chell's eyes. "We can break all of us out – all of us."

"Hey." Chell held up a hand. "Slow down. She will hunt one person to the death if they try to shut Her down, let alone…"

"We're not trying to shut her down. Just cut her off. You can turn off the cameras. That's the first step. You can turn off the cameras, and the Capitol can't monitor us. If this… If this…" Katniss was luminous with excitement, so that when even Chell told her again to calm down, Katniss couldn't stop smiling. "If this works, we can stop the Game."