A/N: I forgot to mention in the previous chapter's notes, I'm intending to update this story every Sunday unless real life stuff gets in the way.

Find me on Deviant Art as Sweet-Christabel to check out my illustrations for this story :)

1993.
Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.

Doug knew something was going on. He wasn't told anything important at Aperture, far from it. His Long-Term Temporary Identification Card came with the lowest clearance imaginable, and the scientists only gave him the bare minimum of information. Yet, over the weeks he'd picked up snippets of conversation. He knew they were working on something big, something they were equal parts pleased with and nervous about. And it was going to be launched today.

Re-launched, they should have said. He'd overheard talk about how the thing had glitched the first two times they'd switched it on, but now, apparently, they'd built something to solve that issue. Doug didn't know what the project was, let alone what they could have created to stop it glitching. He'd figured that it was some kind of artificial intelligence. The A.I. division was the most secretive out of all the departments he'd visited so far, with Robotics close behind.

He knew there was no way on Earth that he'd be allowed anywhere near the project. There were full-time scientists that didn't rank high enough to attend, let alone a student who'd only just turned eighteen. Earlier in the week, he'd been told he'd be 'supervising' at the Bring Your Daughter To Work Day event. Babysitting, he translated. Doug didn't know whose idea it had been to launch the project on the same day as Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, but it was a ridiculous one. Half the parents who were bringing their kids in were needed in attendance at the launch, rendering the whole thing utterly pointless. It was simply a daycare activity now, rather than the parent-child bonding session it was supposed to be.

He drank his morning coffee, studying the calendar that hung on the wall in the kitchen of his tiny student apartment. Four days from today, he'd circled the date in red. The words 'Doctor's Appointment' were written in the space in the middle.

"It'll be fine," Lucy said from behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder, her arms slipping comfortingly around his waist.

Doug appreciated the embrace, but didn't believe the words. She meant well, he realised that, but she was wrong. He just knew it.

"You're just overtired," she went on. "I don't think there's anything really wrong with you."

"Luce, I'm hearing things that aren't there. I keep seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye. It's...scary. I'm worried. And I've been ignoring it for too long now."

He turned in her arms, searching her hazel eyes for signs that she was as concerned as he was. He didn't see it. She was anxious about something, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't that she was making light of it, but he felt she should be more in tune with his mood on this particular issue.

"It's like I'm losing my mind," he added grimly.

"Don't say that," Lucy told him. "It makes you sound crazy."

"What if I am crazy?"

"Don't you think I would have noticed that by now?" she said lightly, smiling. "It's been five months."

He sighed, putting his mug down on the kitchen surface, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Don't joke about it, please."

The smile faded from her face. "I'm sorry," she said with a brief huff. "I just think you're worrying too much. It'll be nothing, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," he muttered sceptically.

She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him and he tangled a hand in the golden waves of her hair.

"I've got to get to class," she said when they parted. "I've got a lecture on the role of women in nineteenth century gothic literature."

"Sounds riveting," Doug commented dryly.

She hit him lightly on the arm. "It's interesting, actually! Will I see you later? Your place or mine?"

"I've got a hectic day ahead," he said. "Rain check?"

"Sure. I should probably catch up on some work anyway." She broke away from him and picked up her jacket, shrugging into it as she spoke. "Have a good day. And Doug...try not to worry, okay?"

He nodded. It was easier said than done.

"See you," Lucy called cheerily, already half way out the door.

"Yeah."

He didn't like admitting it, but he hated the way she glossed over his anxiety. He was no psychologist, but he guessed it was some kind of fear reaction. She didn't want him to have any serious problems, so she was in a state of partial denial.

Doug glanced at the clock and tipped the dregs of his coffee into the sink. It was time to head to Aperture. He hadn't made up his mind about the place yet. He had another week of work there before he went back to college, then years before he would have to decide where he worked permanently. It all depended on whether or not he got his degree. It could still all be for nothing.

Later, when the long elevator ride had taken him down into the depths of the Earth, he made his way to the suite of offices that would be hosting Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. He was feeling more than a little subdued about his day. Doug had never been good with children. He never knew what to say to them. With the exception of Chell, Simon's precocious ten-year-old, he'd never held a conversation with anyone more than five years younger than him.

He stood back to let a couple of senior scientists exit the room, catching fragments of their conversation as he did so.

"...activated in about an hour, I'd guess."

"That's pretty early."

"Why wait? Apparently she's ready to go."

"What about the I.D. sphere? Has it shut up yet?"

"No! Henry thinks it was..."

They moved out of earshot, turning a corner. Doug absorbed the information, although it meant little to him, and entered the room. Most of its occupants seemed quite happy to be there, with one obvious exception. He spotted Chell, sitting at a desk with her chin on her hand, unable to hide how unimpressed she was. Simon was nowhere to be seen. Probably at the project with the others.

The event began with an overhead projector slideshow about how to make a potato battery. It was dull and patronising, yet somehow difficult to follow. Doug had to give them credit for managing such a delicate balance. It was followed by a video of a short speech from a frail-looking Cave Johnson, the late founder of Aperture, which he had recorded in 1985. As soon as the presentation ended, the kids swarmed to pick up their supplies, retreating back to their tables with armfuls of equipment. As he looked around the room, he saw a vast array of expressions, ranging from excited to determined to despairing. He sent out a silent glance of commiseration to the latter kids.

The morning dragged, as he'd feared it would. Although he didn't get a chance to speak to Chell, he could feel the mutual sympathy passing between them. It didn't take her long to clock him, and he saw from her face that she knew he was as unenthusiastic as she was. She was a bright kid. He wondered what she'd thought about the confrontation they'd witnessed between her father and the British man. It had spooked her, he'd seen that much. That was probably the reason for the slight edge of trepidation that lingered behind her apathetic expression.

She rolled her eyes at him when he met her gaze, then bent her head over her work. He smiled, amused. From his position supervising the front of the room, he could see that she had almost completely covered her large sheet of paper with diagrams and notes. He raised his eyebrows, vaguely impressed, then found his attention pulled elsewhere as one of the younger girls threw her potato across the room in a fit of temper.

Sometime later, the issue resolved, he busied himself with wiping lumps of cold root vegetable off the wall, hiding his disgusted expression from the rest of the room. A glance at his watch revealed that nearly two hours had passed. As he dropped potato-covered tissue in the trash can, he wondered what was going on with the big project, whether it was doing everything they hoped. None of the scientists were careless enough to let slip what it was, and he wasn't brave enough to go snooping.

"Mr. Rattmann?" said a shy little voice, breaking through his thoughts.

He glanced down to see one of the girls, her brown eyes nervous and wide.

"Yes?" he said, trying not to snap.

"I don't know if I've done this part right. Can you come and check?"

"Sure."

He followed her back to her table, where he read over her untidy work and reassured her that she was indeed doing it right. She beamed at him, then continued with what she was doing. Encouragement was all she needed.

Doug smiled to himself and stood up, surveying the room. A familiar dark head was missing. He frowned and approached one of the scientists who was supposed to be supervising along with him.

"Where's Chell?"

The woman, Georgia, blinked at him. "Who? Oh, you mean Simon's daughter? Was she here?"

"Yes," he hissed. "She was right here. Now she's gone."

"Oh. Shoot, that's not good. You'd better go and look for her. She might end up somewhere she's not supposed to be."

He nodded and departed, wondering how successful he'd be at locating a girl who seemed to know the layout of the place better than he did. As he walked, Doug calculated how long she'd been gone, trying to think when he'd last seen her. With a sinking heart, he realised it could be anything up to twenty minutes. There were an almost innumerable amount of places she could have gotten to in that time.

He couldn't call for her. That might start a panic. Instead, he asked everyone he passed if they'd seen her. As the number of negative replies increased, so did the knowledge that he'd be in serious trouble if Simon found out.

Still hopeful, convincing himself that the glass was half full, he tried the cafeteria. It was practically empty, too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. There were two members of staff behind the counter, busily running a small, human-powered sandwich production line.

"Have you seen a girl come through here?" he asked. "About this tall, dark hair, blue sweater."

"No," one of them grunted. "We're too busy to be looking for missing girls. Lunches don't make themselves, boy."

He bit his tongue against a retort, turning to go. Then he spotted a pair of sneaker-clad feet carefully withdrawing under a table.

"Never mind," he muttered with a sigh.

He crouched down, peering underneath the table. Chell sat with her knees drawn up, not looking happy to have been found.

"I've been searching everywhere for you," he told her, trying not to be too accusing.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, sounding genuine, "but I was just so bored."

He resisted the urge to smile. "I know. I get it. But you have to come back. What if your dad comes looking for you?"

"He won't," she mumbled, her tone melancholy but resigned. "He'll be busy all day. With Gladys."

Doug frowned. "Who's Gladys?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Someone he works with, I think. He talks about her a lot. But only when he thinks I'm not listening."

One of the catering staff came out from behind the counter, her face scrunched into the most disapproving of frowns.

"What are you doing under there?" she barked. "We can't be responsible for you, girl."

Chell slid herself out meekly, dusting off the backs of her jeans. Doug rose to his feet, smiling at the woman in an attempt to brighten her expression. It didn't work.

"We're leaving now," he told her. "Thank you."

"Make sure this doesn't happen again. And you, young miss, this is not a playground. People are trying to work."

Chell nodded diplomatically, her lips pressed tightly together. She was holding back some smart answers, no doubt. They left the canteen and its cheerful occupants behind.

"Did you finish your potato battery?" he asked as they started back.

"Yes. I did one in school last year so I knew what to do."

"Ah, I remember you saying. So yours should be better than everyone else's, right?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. But Dad...well, he told me not to tell anyone, but I guess you're okay. Dad gave me this stuff to put on it. It's meant to make it power things for longer."

"Isn't that cheating?" Doug asked, a wary note in his voice.

"I guess. I think he felt bad about leaving me on my own."

Another shrug. She did it a lot. Doug guessed it was a kind of defence mechanism, making her seem nonchalant, hiding when things hurt her more than she wanted to let on.

"Do I really have to–" she began, but her words were cut sharply off by a loud, wailing alarm.

The lights shut off and Chell screamed, more in surprise, he thought, than actual fear. Then the emergency generator kicked in and the corridor was drenched in dim, red light.

"What's going on?" Chell asked, not quite managing to hide her panic.

Doug bit down his own unease for her sake. "I'm not sure."

"Warning!" came a falsely-cheerful announcement. "Enrichment Centre air conditioning vent system compromised. Please evacuate the facility."

A trickle of apprehension made its way down Doug's spine. He didn't quite know how serious an air conditioning vent problem was. Attempting to keep his voice level, he turned to Chell and asked, "Where are the emergency exits?"

"I don't know!"

"Okay, don't worry. We'd better find everyone else. Come on."

They jogged through the eerie ruby glow until they found a group of scientists waiting for the emergency elevator. At the back of his mind, Doug reflected on how absurd it was not to have stairs, but then he remembered just how far down they were.

"I don't want to go without Dad," Chell said stubbornly.

"He'll make his own way out, don't you worry," he told her, hoping it was true. If it was a problem with the grand project, then Simon would be right there in the middle of things. He didn't share those thoughts with Chell, though. She was smart enough to reach that conclusion on her own if she was given enough hints.

The elevator doors slid open and people jostled them for room.

"Hey!" barked a tall, imposing-looking scientist at the front. "Stop that! There's a couple of kids here, let them through!"

Reluctantly, the crowd parted, leaving a clear path to the elevator. Doug ignored the fact that he'd been called a kid and gave Chell a little push towards the lift. They settled into a corner and Chell gripped the railing, her knuckles ivory.

"It'll be okay," he told her, feeling a pang of sympathy.

"You don't know that," she countered, and he found he couldn't disagree.

The elevator was huge, managing to fit the majority of the waiting staff members inside. It took them up so fast that Doug's ears popped unpleasantly, and they all stumbled as it slowed. They were met with a blast of chilly air as the doors opened, and they all filed out into the parking lot. There were already people waiting there, having come up from the other elevators located around the facility. Everyone was talking, trading theories on what the situation was and when they'd be allowed back down.

Chell gripped Doug's sleeve as people bumped into her, more concerned with their own well-being. Her grey eyes were wide with worry. She didn't want to get lost. Taking a risk of being trampled on, he crouched down. She understood at once and hopped onto his back, looping her arms around his neck. He hooked his hands under her knees to keep her from slipping and stood up. She was heavier than he was expecting, but he shifted her weight and fought his way towards the edge of the crowd.

He spotted Georgia with the rest of the kids and told Chell to give her a wave. Georgia looked relieved to see them both, and made a mark on her register. As he battled his way through, Chell kept an eye out for her father.

As it turned out, Simon didn't appear until almost forty-five minutes had passed. Doug spotted him emerging from the elevator and glanced down to tell Chell, who had spent most of the waiting time hopping from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm. Simon's face was pale, his expression grim. It made Doug feel unsettled. He wondered what had happened, now convinced that the evacuation had something to do with the launch of the project. Maybe it was another glitch that had caused problems with the air conditioning. He'd probably never find out.

Simon craned his neck, frowning as he scanned the crowd. Doug hoisted Chell onto his back again so she could wave to him. Eventually, Simon saw her. His relief transformed his face immediately.

The senior staff members at the front were discussing the situation. Doug hadn't a hope in hell of hearing what they were saying, but he didn't think they needed to take half the time they were taking. It was almost October, and the air was crisp. Having already been standing around in it for an hour, he was beginning to get joint-numbingly cold. Carrying Chell again was making his back ache, but she was desperate to see her father, and he didn't have the heart to make her stand.

Slowly, painfully slowly, a message was delivered at the front and began to make its way back. The crowd started to disperse, drifting to their various modes of transport. There was a tangible hum of grumbling in the air, like a swarm of lingering bees. Finally, the message reached Doug's ears. Everyone was being sent home, no one was permitted to retrieve their belongings. The latter part was being loudly argued by those who didn't have their car keys on them.

When there was room, Simon made his way over to them. Chell jumped down and ran to him, in need of a reassuring hug.

"Don't worry, honey," he said, planting a kiss on her hair. "It'll be okay."

"What happened?" she asked, lifting her head to look up at him.

"I don't know."

Doug got the distinct impression that he was not being entirely truthful.

"Thanks for looking after her," Simon said to him, sending him a genuinely relieved smile.

"No problem," he answered neutrally, keeping his suspicions from his face. Now was not the time to raise them.

"You'd better head on home," Simon went on, freeing Chell's arms from around his waist. "This will probably be cleared up by Monday."

"I hope so, sir," Doug replied diplomatically.

"Have a good weekend, Rattmann."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "You too."

Chell gave him a small smile, which he returned. It said everything she didn't want to say, including her gratitude that he hadn't told her father that she'd run away from the Bring Your Daughter To Work Day event.

Doug gave them both a nod, then turned, heading for his car, glad that he'd thought to keep his keys in his pocket. He sat for a while with the engine running and the heater on, waiting for the line of traffic to get through the front gate. He wasn't sure what he'd do with his unexpectedly free day. Now that his work day was suddenly over, he had nothing left to distract his thoughts from his concerns. The only thing he had planned for the immediate future was the appointment with the doctor. Until then, he had nothing to do but wait and worry about what they were going to tell him. He only hoped that his imagination was worse than reality. In the meantime, he was free to wonder just what was going on at Aperture Science.

A/N: Can we get hugs for baby Doug please? Actually maybe not. He's going to be in greater need of them later on... *distant evil laugh*

There seems to be a general consensus in the fandom that GLaDOS became active on Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, however in the actual game, all that's said about it is that it 'did not end well'. Consider this is Aperture, that could mean a thousand different things! So in this story I decided to make BYDTWD the occasion when Wheatley went live as the intelligence dampening sphere and failed utterly at keeping GLaDOS under control. (Good job, Wheatley.)