A/N: Happy Halloween, folks! Hope you're having a fun time. Please enjoy this chapter that has absolutely nothing to do with anything remotely Halloweenish :D

Thank you to mecaka for the lovely review. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story too :D

2006.
Unpleasant Discoveries.

As time passed, Chell found she didn't mind the extra message-delivering duties she found herself doing every time the internal server went down, (which was more often than the company liked to admit). She enjoyed getting out of her tiny office, finding people other than Marlene and Lazarus to talk to. She didn't mind when she got sidelined on her way out, either. Aperture Laboratories wasn't her favourite place on Earth, but she felt strangely comfortable there. Being so far underground felt almost...safe. And that in itself made her feel uneasy, making the whole thing confusing and unhelpful.

Now that she'd been working for the company for nearly three years, her clearance had been increased. It was still one of the lowest clearance levels available to Aperture employees, but it gave her a degree more freedom than she'd had. A few more unlocked doors than there had been before.

Happy with her new status, she pulled up the building's layout on her computer screen, checking where she could go that she hadn't been able to before, trying to commit a few routes to memory. Like she did every day, she then checked the personnel log, seeing who was at lunch. It was a perk of her job that she could see when people she wanted to avoid were safely shut away in their offices.

A little while later, she ventured beyond the pathways she was used to for the first time. There, she had a huge shock. Instead of more of the bland, repetitive corridors she walked every day, she found that the facility became much more industrial. On occasion, the corridors were nothing more than metal walkways covering dizzying gaps of undeveloped space. Between areas, it was cheaper to build gantries rather than full corridors. Chell had never had a problem with heights, but stepping out onto the crisscrossed metal made her stomach flip unpleasantly. She was grateful to swipe her card and duck through automated doors into a corridor with actual walls. The paint was glossy and cheap, the carpet tiles thin and poorly-laid, but the floor didn't tremble when she walked on it, and she could pretend that she worked in a normal building, not in a fortress in a salt mine, miles and miles beneath the surface.

Chell hadn't left her office simply to explore. She'd decided to take on a small mission, something that her previous clearance level hadn't allowed her to do. From the maps she'd looked at before she'd left, she had a rough notion of where she was going.

Five more minutes of walking led her to a corridor of unassuming doors, and she kept going, reading the signs as she went. Most of them referred to things she wasn't allowed to know about, and the door she was looking for was no exception, labelled ASHPD Development. Raising a quizzical brow as she read it, she double-checked the number, then rapped smartly on the door and waited. After a moment, it opened just wide enough to allow Doug to stick his head out. He looked tired, more than a little puzzled to see her there, and he stared at her for a beat, clearly having trouble placing her in that particular setting.

"Hello," she greeted brightly. "What's an Ashpod?"

"ASHPD," he corrected automatically, still glancing at her with a slight air of confusion. "And I can't tell you that. As you know."

She shrugged, acknowledging his words. She had no defence there. It was just that being surrounded by such bizarre projects, it was sometimes difficult not to ask. Aperture had a unique way of naming and labelling things. Chell suspected it stemmed from their desire not to get sued when they borrowed ideas from other people.

Doug visibly gathered his wits about him, looking at her with a touch more clarity. "What are you doing down here?"

"New security clearance," she explained, showing him her upgraded card.

He scanned it with a quick glance. "I still can't let you in here," he told her.

"Oh, I know that," she assured him. "I have clearance to be in the corridor, but not to go into any of the rooms leading off it."

Doug gave a humourless little chuckle. "Another astounding piece of Aperture logic. Nice job, Uncle Johnson."

Chell shot him a baffled frown. "Sorry, what?"

"Did you never hear about that? Apparently during the 60s when the company was investigated, Cave Johnson ordered all the employees to call him Uncle Johnson, to give the place a 'family atmosphere'." His tone was laced with disdain, his nose wrinkled.

"You're kidding."

"No," he answered at once. "Why would I make something like that up?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Fun?"

"Scientists don't believe in fun."

She gave a snort of laughter and he smiled, losing a little of his weary look. He opened the door enough to join her in the corridor, pulling it closed behind him after checking that he had his swipe card with him.

"I asked Marlene about the logic," Chell told him. "She says it's in case there are deliveries that need to be made down here. They don't want couriers or runners wandering around."

"Deliveries. Right," he scoffed cynically. "Is that even in your job description?"

"Technically no," she said with another shrug, "but I've always felt that I'm expected to be flexible."

Not seeming at all surprised, Doug shook his head, dislodging a pen that he'd stuck behind his ear. He made a grab for it and missed, knocking it off course to slip neatly in the breast pocket of his lab coat. They both laughed.

"You couldn't do that again if you tried!" Chell said.

"Oh ye of little faith," he muttered tauntingly." Are you making a delivery, then?"

"Kind of. I checked on the system, you've been holed up in here for six hours straight. I figured you could use this." Grinning, she moved the paper coffee cup she'd been hiding into view.

Doug's eyes lit up. "You," he said emphatically, reaching for it, "are a saint."

"Me or the coffee?" Chell quipped.

"I'll get back to you on that."

She sniggered, watching him cautiously sniff the lid. He always did it with take-out cups. It was something he just couldn't help, despite his medication.

"Is there sugar in this?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered patiently. "Two sachets."

He removed the lid and took a sip, letting out a grateful sigh. "Thanks, I could really use the boost."

"I know," she said with a shrug, smiling.

"How?"

"You think you're the only one here with a caffeine addiction? Trust me, I understand."

He smirked, lifting his chin and fixing her with a superior look. "I'm not addicted. I can quit any time I want."

"Sure you can," Chell agreed with over the top cheeriness, patting him on the shoulder patronisingly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she laughed.

A door further down the corridor opened, and a smartly-dressed, balding man stepped out, his lab coat hanging open to show off his suit. After a moment, Chell recognised him as the scientist who'd cryptically yelled at Marlene about the red phone when the internal lines had gone down several years ago.

"Doug!" he called, heading their way. "Got a minute?"

"Uh, sure." He turned to Chell, the apology already visible on his face.

She held up her hands. "It's okay, I should get going if I'm going to find my way back without getting lost."

"How many times, Chell, print off the schematics before you set off somewhere new."

"And be accused of trying to steal them? No thanks, I'm good."

Doug sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "One of these days you'll actually take my advice and I'll keel over from the shock."

"Don't be so dramatic," she scolded lightly. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck then," he said with a grin. "And thanks for the coffee."

She returned his smile. "You're welcome."

"Bye."

As she walked away, Chell heard the newcomer mutter, "Didn't know you'd gotten yourself a girlfriend, Doug. Good for you!"

"She's not my…I'm not…we're just friends."

"Sure you are. Can't say's I blame you. Great pair of–"

"Shut up, Henry."

"I was going to say eyes!"

Chell smothered a giggle, refusing to look back. The sound of her footsteps drowned out Doug's chivalrous defending comments, but she made a mental note to thank him later.

Getting lost was something she'd have been happy to be wrong about. Unfortunately, a left that should have been a right, (or vice versa), in a labyrinthine sprawl of near-identical corridors left her not only lost, but annoyed that she'd predicted it and done nothing to prevent it. A quick glance at the bare walls told her that she'd have a fair bit of backtracking to do before she even found a door she could knock on for help. Calling Marlene was out of the question, of course. There was no cell phone signal underground. If she hadn't noticed how dilapidated the corridor was getting, she could have ended up even further from her path.

She took another look around. She wasn't convinced that there had been anyone working in this particular part of the facility for quite some time. The carpet was dusty, she realised on closer inspection, her own footprints the only thing marring the pale grey dirt. She'd wandered into a vacant suite, too caught up in her own thoughts.

Retracing her steps, she pursued her own trail until the reduction in dust left her with no footprints to follow. Chell halted, biting her lip, trying to remember the path she'd taken. With far less certainty than she was comfortable with, she turned right and kept walking. She knocked on the nearest door she found. There was no answer, and a quick turn of the handle told her it was locked.

"Shoot," she murmured, convinced that she'd taken yet another wrong turn.

"Hello!" came a bright, cheerful voice, startling her into yelping. "Anything I can help you with there?"

Chell spun, confused, (and slightly concerned), that someone could sneak up on her in a deserted corridor. There was no one behind her. She pivoted in a clumsy circle, searching everywhere. Nothing.

She frowned. She didn't believe in ghosts, so how...

"Um...you, uh, you seem to be having a bit of trouble down there," said the voice. "I'm up here."

Chell tilted her head up, immediately spotting what looked like a dull metal ball attached to a rail in the ceiling. It looked down at her with a vibrant blue optic, set between a pair of eyelid-like handles. She stared, wide-eyed, all words escaping her. The ball seemed to blink a few times, narrowing its optic in a decidedly uncomfortable way.

"Are you all right?" it asked. "You're just...just staring at me...a lot. It's, um, somewhat unnerving, if I'm honest."

She smiled a little, mostly in bewilderment. The ball was surprisingly expressive, and its voice sounded so naturally human. Its lilting British accent was almost familiar, but she couldn't place it. Perhaps it was voiced by an actor that she'd heard elsewhere.

"Look," it went on, a touch of annoyance in its tone, "I don't want to be rude, but this staring thing has to stop, okay? It's...it's...it's starting to feel like you're judging me...about something. Don't know what, no idea what, but something. And, uh, I feel that that's unfair, because I'm just doing what I was told, all right?"

Chell shook herself out of her surprised stupor. "Um...right. Sorry. You just took me by surprise, is all. What...uh...who are you exactly?"

The ball's optic widened, almost like a grin of sorts. "Name's Wheatley. I'm a personality core. It's my job to scout these corridors on watch."

"On watch for what?" she queried, scrutinising him. And he was a 'him' not an 'it', she decided. Despite appearances, he was too real to be an 'it'.

The core shifted from side to side, as if he was checking he was not overheard. When he spoke, it was in a stage whisper. Chell bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"I've heard a rumour," he hissed. "Get this. There are robots that scream down here at night."

Chell wasn't sure what expression she was pulling, only that it seemed to make him 'nod' in apparent agreement.

"I know, I know. Hard to believe, but true. Allegedly. "

"Um...Wheatley, was it?"

"That's right."

"I'm Chell. That seems to be...a strange job to give a..."

"Personality core," he finished for her. "Yeah...yeah, it is. But nobody else was brave enough to do it. They gave me this job because they knew I could handle it. Before this I worked in engineering. Just, you know, doing admin. But it was really important. Before that I did admin for the guy in charge of the neurotoxin release button. Big responsibility, that, let me tell you."

Chell frowned, seizing upon the word that filled her with a deep sense of unease. "Neurotoxin?"

"Yeah. You know, down near the old neurotoxin generator...in the, uh, the...thingy...department."

Playing along, she nodded. "Of course. Did they tell you what it's used for?"

"Errr no, not as such." His optic brightened suddenly. "But hey, gotta be important, right? I mean, there's no way they'd employ such a sophisticated piece of technology like me down there if it wasn't important."

"Um...no. I mean, you're probably right." She bit her lip anxiously, suddenly wishing she could get Doug's opinion on what she'd learned, hoping that it wasn't something he'd already known and just hadn't told her. Glancing back up at Wheatley, she wondered if she was looking at her father's work, and if cores like this one were the reason why he'd practically starting living at the facility. "Who built you?" she asked curiously, leaning back against the wall. The angle was starting to make her neck ache.

"I don't know actually," he replied matter-of-factly. "Gotta be honest, the early parts of my life are a bit of a blur. Do not have a clue what I got up to."

"Oh. That sounds...disconcerting."

"Tis a bit, yeah. I mean, I could have been doing something really important during that time, or, or, you know...yeah. Don't...don't actually know where I was going with that, sorry. Anyway, I do know that I was probably very, very busy. Doing...you know, whatever. Definitely wasn't just sitting around gathering dust or zipping around willy nilly, or, or...are you all right, you look a bit peaky."

Chell's whole body had gone cold, a trickle of dread uncoiling in the pit of her stomach. She'd been listening with a placid smile on her face and had suddenly found herself taken aback by that strange phrase of his: 'willy nilly'. She'd heard it before. And the moment she remembered that, she remembered who she'd heard it from: the lanky British man who'd been called to a conference by the A.I. and Robotics divisions, who'd argued with her father, who'd been persuaded to return to the room, and who had then vanished.

With startling clarity, his long-ago words floated back to her. 'It's insane, mate!...it's a prototype piece of technology and you want to just...just throw someone's personality in there willy nilly…'

"My god, Dad," she whispered, "what have you done?"

"What's that?" Wheatley asked.

"Nothing," Chell answered, trying to school her expression, trying not to think about that awkward, nervous employee from thirteen years ago. She wasn't sure what it all meant, and she didn't really want to think about it too hard. "I need to talk to Doug," she decided aloud.

"Who?"

"Wheatley, do you know the way back to corridor 31-B?"

The core rolled his optic. "Of course! Only got the layout of the whole facility at my disposal! Follow me."

He began to trundle along the rail he was attached to, going a reasonable pace so that Chell could keep up. Within five minutes she was back at the corridor she'd started at.

"Here you go," Wheatley announced proudly, rotating to beam down at her. "I can't take you any further, they didn't put a rail here. But you can find your way from here on."

"Yes. Thank you." Chell took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning to glance back at him. "Wheatley, could you just wait here for a minute? I want my friend to meet you, but I need to go and fetch him."

The core somehow managed to look pleased at her words and, again, Chell marvelled at the technology.

"Yup, no problem at all, I'll wait right here."

Forcing herself to smile, Chell nodded. "Great. I won't be long."

"Take your time," he called brightly as she walked.

She headed along the corridor as fast as she could go without breaking into a jog, knocking on the door of Doug's lab before she'd even stopped moving. After a short while, he opened it, looking more than a little annoyed. His expression cleared the moment he saw her face.

"What is it?" he asked at once.

"I need to talk to you," she said earnestly. "Right now, it's important."

Doug's eyes darted nervously down the corridor, but he held the door open for her. "Okay. Come in. Quickly."

Chell darted inside, and Doug let the door close behind her. She took a cursory glance around the room, curious despite the urgency of what she had to say. It was a spacious lab, but cold and clinical. There was a single workbench in the centre of the room, lit by overhead lamps. Whatever it was that Doug was working on sat on top of it, surrounded by blueprints and tools. Chell couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be, which was hardly surprising seeing as it was mostly in pieces.

"I got lost on the way back from here," she began, turning away from the bench. "I know, I know," she said, before he could comment, "you told me."

Doug was listening appraisingly, with folded arms and a grave expression. He didn't say a word on the subject.

"Anyway," Chell went on, "I bumped into this...robot thing. He calls himself a personality core."

"Personality core?" Doug repeated with a frown. "I've never heard that term around here."

"Could be something my dad's been working on. I think he's a prototype, because he doesn't seem to have any purpose, he's just been fobbed off with jobs that don't actually exist."

"Like what?"

"Something about keeping watch for screaming robots in the corridors."

Doug slanted an eyebrow. "Right," he scoffed.

Chell shrugged. "I know, it's stupid. But he mentioned that he used to work somewhere near the neurotoxin generator."

"What?" he said sharply, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you know anything about that? Is it likely that something like that actually exists? Because that makes me really nervous, Doug."

Doug glanced away, running an anxious hand through his hair, causing it to spike up untidily. "I…I've heardrumours, but…I never really knew whether to take it seriously. It…it seems an insane thing to install in a place like this, but…"

"But it's Aperture," Chell finished for him.

"Exactly."

A momentary, depressing silence settled over the lab as they each came to terms with what they'd learned. That there was something that generated poison gas sitting somewhere in the facility was not a comforting thought, especially considering how far away the surface was.

"I was hoping that he'd been lied to," Chell admitted at length, biting her lip.

"You keep saying 'he'," Doug pointed out, his tone subtly inquisitive.

"Oh, he's definitely a 'he'," she told him, beginning to pace. The situation was making her more than a little agitated. "That's why I had to come and talk to you. I...don't know how to...even..." She huffed, exasperated at her lack of cohesion. "He has a name. And he sounds real. I mean, really real. He stutters, rambles, stops mid-sentence, everything."

He stared at her in understandable confusion. "What are you saying?"

Chell glanced at the floor as she walked, still unsure exactly what she was saying. Lifting her gaze to his once more, she halted, asking, "Do you remember the day we met?"

Doug looked briefly uneasy, recalling his arrogant, eighteen-year-old self. "Of course. What's that got to do with anything?"

"We were both in my dad's lab and that British guy came in, he was running late for the conference. Later he and my dad had an argument, and you and I were freaked out. We never talked about it."

He nodded grimly, and she could see him making the connections. "So...you're saying this...core sounds like that man we saw?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. You should come and talk to him, but I...I don't even know what to think, but it's all wrong, somehow. It feels all wrong. And...I don't even know what conclusion I'm trying to reach, because it's all crazy and my dad's mixed up in it."

Doug reached out a hand, gripping her shoulder. "Hey. Calm down, we'll figure this out. Okay?"

Chell nodded, trying to let herself be reassured, trying not to think about the worst-case scenarios that her dad might be involved in. But she knew Aperture. She knew that the worst-case scenarios were often the ones that the company found the most interesting.

"Let's go and talk to this core thing," Doug said, letting go.

"Okay," she agreed. "I left him back in the corridor."

Wheatley was still there, which Chell was pleased about. She'd half expected him to wander off, but he was waiting patiently, optic lighting the walls a soft blue.

"Hello!" he greeted as they approached, his tone bright and enthusiastic. "Wondered how long you'd be. I've been human-watching . None of them saw me. You would not believe the amount of people who don't look up when they're walking around. They're missing all kinds of stuff! Well, mostly just...y'know, ceilings and pipes and fans, but if there ever is anything interesting up there, they are going to miss it."

Doug was staring at Wheatley with an openly shocked expression on his face. Chell could tell he'd thought she was exaggerating. She didn't blame him. He shot her a sidelong glance and she raised an expectant eyebrow, hoping he'd have theories on how, despite appearances, they'd created such a lifelike A.I. He shook his head, and she could see the confusion and concern in his eyes. Disappointed, she turned back to Wheatley.

"Thank you for waiting," Chell said. "My friend has never seen a personality core."

"Oh," said Wheatley, raising his top handle, as if indicating surprise. "Well, here I am. Pretty impressive, I think you'll find."

"Yes," Doug put in, his tone guarded, "very."

They chatted with Wheatley for a while, Doug throwing in questions about his production and purpose, none of which the core could manage to answer. Eventually, when Chell remembered that she was now horribly late back to work, they sent Wheatley on his way, voicing their concerns to each other in hurried whispers.

"There's nothing for it now," Doug said gravely, escorting Chell to the correct corridor back. "You have to speak to your father. This is...too weird to let drop."

"I know," she replied, frowning, already worried about the prospect. "I will. I just hope he'll actually listen this time."

With a shrug, she turned and broke into a run, not stopping until she was back at her desk. Marlene gave her a ten minute lecture about her tardiness, then left her alone with her concerns.

A/N: I have so much fun writing Wheatley! And for some reason every character I write has a coffee addiction, even the Star Wars ones. It's like I'm projecting or something...

Check out my Deviant Art (sweet-christabel) for illustrations for this chapter.