A/N: More stuff from Lab Rat here. I don't own any dialogue you recognise.

2010.
Heroism.

While Chell was making a desperate attempt to take down her robotic nemesis, Doug was adding the final splash of paint to his work. He stepped back to admire it, a little surprised that he'd achieved such a good likeness in such a short amount of time. The image had flowed from his brushes, fully formed in his head: Chell, angelically posed with her arms at her sides, her eyes closed serenely. She was his personal incarnation of faith.

"Another mural to mark the occasion," he spoke aloud, looking at the painting with something not unlike reverence.

The cube didn't answer right away. It was getting sluggish and confused, meaning the medication was finally showing signs of working.

Doug dropped his brush into a container of paint water and sat down, his back against the wall. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he sighed. He felt calmer, but his stomach was still full of butterflies, and his feet itched to run back to the locked doors that led to the A.I. chamber, just to be nearby.

"Where is the girl now?" the cube asked, sounding puzzled.

Doug frowned. "On her way into the final chamber," he guessed. He wasn't sure how much time had passed.

"You mean with…Her?"

He glanced at it, feeling a pang of regret. It was his fault that the cube was bewildered, but his head felt clearer than it had in years, so he couldn't quite bring himself to wish he hadn't taken the pills.

He got to his feet, crossing the room to pat the cube comfortingly on its topside. Chell's file lay on the floor beside it, and he bent to pick it up.

"She doesn't have a chance," the cube said sadly.

"Oh," he replied softly, humouring it, "she has more of a chance than you think."

He read over her notes again, the warnings about her high levels of tenacity. Despite their friendship putting them on equal ground, he'd always been in awe of her. If anyone could achieve what he'd orchestrated them to achieve, he knew she could.

Suddenly, a series of explosions tore through the facility, shaking the world like an earthquake. The lights went off, and Doug found himself falling through the dark, not sure which way was up anymore. He landed hard on concrete, a level or two down from where he'd been, he suspected. Winded, he lay still for a moment, then propped himself up on an elbow.

"What was that?" he wondered aloud, already knowing the answer, but unable to consider the consequences.

What did she do?

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he looked around. He was surrounded by debris. Strangely enough, the walls of his mural room were still intact, just separated from each other. They were propped up around him like display boards, but the section of wall that had housed the door had broken off. The ceiling hung above, lurching sideways on its metal support girders, a few of its tiles missing. The floor tiles were scattered everywhere, mingling with the moveable panels that were below.

Doug pushed himself up to his knees, gathering the pages of Chell's file, which had settled around him like large pieces of confetti. The cube sat not far away, surrounded by his bag and his collection of brushes. Jumping to his feet, he ran over to it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, picking it up.

"The room shook itself to pieces," the cube observed, its voice awed.

"Like an unbalanced centrifuge," Doug added.

"I heard an explosion. What could it mean?"

Doug glanced up, already planning his route up the pipes and metalwork. He put the cube in the bag, swinging it onto his back. He retrieved Chell's file, saying as calmly as he could, "Only one thing it can mean."

Gripping her file between his teeth, he began to climb until he reached the corridor that had once led to the mural room. It was a wreck, but his route was still usable. No longer in fear of security cameras, he took the corridors, sprinting as fast as he could to the main chamber, the file held securely in his hand. As he'd suspected, the previously-locked doors were open again, and it wasn't long before he arrived, panting, in the central A.I. chamber.

It was a warzone. The ceiling was all but gone, showing blue sky high above. GLaDOS lay on the floor, limp and broken. From the way she was lying and the damage to her chassis, it looked as if she'd somehow fallen from a great height. She was still attached to the broken ceiling by a scant few cables, which held her up like some grotesque puppet. Her optic was dark and lifeless.

"She did it," Doug breathed, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage. "It's over."

He could hardly believe it and yet, at the same time, he'd never really doubted her.

A tentative smile found its way onto his face. "The ultimate systems crash."

"Where's the girl?" asked the cube. "She didn't stay to check out her handiwork?"

He looked around, but sure enough there was no sign of her. "She must have gotten out," he said. After all, it had taken him several minutes to get out of the ruined mural room. "Probably on the surface, soaking up some sun."

"I'm sure you're right," the cube replied lazily. As an afterthought, it added, "What is this 'sun' of which you speak?"

"And she has the right idea," Doug stated, ignoring it. "Come on, we're wasting daylight."

The outer doors must be open now, he thought. I hope so anyway, otherwise we'll be climbing our way out.

"Watch out for the turrets," the cube cautioned. "The queen may be dead, but the hornet's nest has been kicked."

Doug nodded in acknowledgement, then set off running back the way they'd come. He trusted the elevators now that GLaDOS was down, taking one up to level one, an area in which he hadn't set foot in years. He chose to ignore the route up to what had once been main reception on the surface, heading instead to the stairs up to the fire escape. The double doors taunted him with the lines of sunlight seeping in underneath them. He put on an extra burst of speed, slamming hard into the horizontal bar that opened them.

The doors burst open, hitting the walls on either side, and Doug emerged into the bright sunlight of the parking lot.

"Freedom!" he yelled ecstatically, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sun.

"My eyes! My eyes!" whimpered the cube.

Turning away, Doug glanced around at the debris-littered ground. The explosions had spat a lot up to the surface. Half of the cars were buried under chunks of masonry and metal, and there were small fires dotted around.

Where is she? he wondered internally. She couldn't have gotten too far in the time it took to get here, surely I can catch up.

Are you sure she'll want you to? a slurring voice jeered. You were the one who made her do this, you were the one she called a coward. She won't want to see you.

Get out of my head! he silently screamed.

But he feared the voice was right. There was no way she would want him around anymore, not after everything he'd done. She deserved better friends.

He started walking, distractedly enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face, trying to ease the pain in his chest at the thought of never seeing or speaking to her again.

A sound pulled him out of his melancholy reflections, a metallic clanging and a strange kind of scraping noise.

"Shh," he hissed at both himself and the voices. "I hear something."

"Quick, get down before it sees you!" the cube squeaked.

In ardent agreement, Doug leapt behind a large piece of debris, peering stealthily around the side. For a moment there was nothing but the odd collection of noises. Then a robot, a design he'd never seen before, came into view. It looked like a personality core that had been set clumsily into a humanoid body. Its optic was bright pink, and its limbs were spindly and looked rather homespun by Aperture standards. It was clinging awkwardly to the shoulders of a young woman in an orange jumpsuit, pulling her along the ground, a motion that had already broken her leg springs. Her eyes were closed, her face pale. There was a sliver of blood at the corner of her mouth, and her jumpsuit was dirty and torn. A large graze at her left temple was bruised and lightly bleeding. To Doug's relief, she was still breathing. The droid was relentlessly pulling her backwards, towards a set of steps leading down into the ground.

"No!" he whispered, horrified. "It's dragging her back inside."

His eyes narrowed as he considered what to do. He had nothing to attack the robot with. He wasn't sure he'd win if he started. Grimacing, he watched as she was dragged none-too-gently down the stairs, his mind whirling in panic as he struggled for a plan. Leaving his hiding place, he staggered forward, his head annoyingly free of ideas.

"You don't have to go back in there," the cube said, sounding like a scared child.

"I can't just walk away," he told it firmly.

"You're right," it amended. "Walking is too slow. Run away."

"Running is what I've been doing," Doug snapped. "Running and hiding."

He was angry at the cube's suggestions, knowing that they represented a cowardly, selfish part of himself that he had to overcome. The thought of going back down into the labs repulsed him. His three years of captivity had made him desperate to get out, and now that he'd seen the sky again, he couldn't bear to descend back into darkness.

"It's why you're still alive," said the cube earnestly. "You're not a hero. Heroes die."

"You don't understand," he muttered through gritted teeth. "It's my fault she's down there. I'm not leaving her. I would have been trapped forever if not for her."

"Listen, it's too dangerous. You're going to get killed."

Doug paused, absorbing its words. It could be right, but leaving Chell behind was simply not an option. He knew it. He'd always known it.

"So be it," he said decisively, lifting his chin. "But I'm done running. I have to at least try to save her."

As she would for me, he added silently.

Still without a solid plan, he hurried after the robot, determinedly not looking back at the outside world as he tripped down the stairs.

"Then you really are crazy," the cube sighed.

"It's my fault you don't remember why we fight for her," Doug spoke up as he ran. "If you were yourself, you wouldn't be saying any of this. You'd remember…Oh, it doesn't matter."

It was easy to follow the route the robot had taken, as Chell's various cuts were leaving tiny spots of blood on the floor. Doug grimaced as he pursued them, all the more determined to save her.

"I'm not feeling so good," the cube said in a small voice. "Those pills you took…I think the medicine is starting to work. Soon you won't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you," he told it kindly, taking the stairs to Test Subject Storage two at a time.

"I don't think you will…" the cube whispered.

Doug pelted through the corridors, bypassing the room of stasis pods that he'd put Chell into on Bring Your Cat To Work Day. Finally, he burst into the Relaxation Centre, the wing for long-term stasis, and followed the blood spots to one of the climate-controlled rooms, where they abruptly stopped. There was a widescreen monitor above the door, showing the interior of the cryo-chamber, which looked deceptively like a plain motel room. Chell lay in the bed, her chest barely moving as she took shallow breaths. She was still unconscious.

"No," he moaned, feeling his heart plummet into his shoes. "They've already put her in long-term relaxation. I need to get up to cryo-control, but turrets block the way."

He glanced back at the monitor, watching her struggling to breathe. A frown creased his brow. That most certainly wasn't right.

"Her cryo-chamber," he said, thinking aloud. "Something's wrong."

He darted to the nearest control panel on the wall, throwing its cover open and reading the display.

"Life support has been compromised. The explosion blew the main grid. Her chamber is offline," he cried, trying not to give into his rising alarm. "All the cryo-chambers are offline!" He clapped a hand to his mouth, thinking fast. The lives of hundreds of test subjects, not to mention Chell's, were at stake, and he had limited time.

Okay, he thought, attempting to inject a little rationality, I have to get up to cryo-control. There is no other option.

He sprinted for the service ladder, the fastest way up there that he knew of. A corridor and a room full of turrets awaited him at the top.

"I'm only going to get one chance," he told himself. "I have to cross the room, get past the turrets, jump the rail, then dive left or right to avoid being shot. Okay…do I dive left or right?"

To him, they looked equally unappealing and hopeless, but he could do with a second opinion. The cube, however, remained silent.

"Hello?" he said cautiously. "You still back there?"

Nothing.

"Left or right? Don't make me guess! I'm running out of time."

Nothing.

He could feel the panic welling up inside him, but he couldn't afford the time it would take to calm down. He had to move now.

"Well," he said, his voice unsteady, "ready or not…"

Recalling the sight of Chell's motionless form, Doug started running. He took the turrets by surprise, almost making it out of range before they even thought to open fire. He hesitated for less than a second before diving to the left, but it was a moment that cost him dearly. The bullet hit him in his right thigh, stealing a cry and a gasp from him.

He managed to stagger into the corridor beyond before collapsing to the ground, the shock and the sharpness of the pain making his limbs feel weak. Cryo-control was barely ten feet away, but it seemed three times as far. The cube tumbled out of his bag, coming to a stop a short way off. Doug reached for it, as if it would lend him the strength he needed to get back on his feet.

Must…stay…conscious, he told himself. But it was no use. The darkness swamped him and pulled him under.

The cube was humming when he awoke. Doug almost felt peaceful, lying there on the floor listening to it. Then his leg gave another stab of pain, pushing the cobwebs of unconsciousness aside. He remembered what had happened, and his panic returned full-force.

"How long have I been out?" he asked frantically, trying to regain the strength to lift his head off the floor.

"Long enough," the cube told him unhelpfully.

"You're back."

"I never left you," it said, contrary to the impression Doug had gotten in the turret room when he'd been forced to make a choice alone.

There was no time to waste reflecting on that, however. Doug bit his lip as he attempted to pick himself up. The pain spiked and he gasped.

"There's something I wanted to ask," said the cube nonchalantly, seemingly oblivious to his struggles. "How did you know about the girl?"

"Know what?" he rasped.

"That she was the one."

"Something in her file," he replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position and examining the wound. He'd left a worryingly large puddle of blood on the floor.

"She had the highest IQ?" the cube went on.

"No, some were higher."

"Then she was the fastest? The most athletic?"

"No," he said, wiping perspiration off his forehead, "nothing like that."

Why are you asking me all this? he wondered inwardly. And why now?

"Then what?"

"A hunch," he said through clenched teeth, bracing his sweaty hands on the cube and trying to stand up, keeping all his weight on his left leg. He was soon back down on the ground, eyes wet with tears of pain and frustration.

It doesn't matter, he thought. She's probably already dead. You don't know how long you've been out.

"You might still be able to save her," the cube announced.

"What?" he snapped.

You choose to tell me this now?

"How?" he asked desperately. "I can't get to her cryo-chamber…"

"You can't free her, but you might save her. You can patch her cryo-unit into the reserve grid."

Doug realised it was right. His mind, through the cube, had finally figured out the only viable answer. Praying that he'd only been unconscious for a matter of minutes, he crawled for the nearest console in cryo-control.

"You can reset the fuses and restart her life support," the cube called after him. "If it's not too late already."

Doug hauled himself up to reach the keyboard, and began typing as fast as he could. "But even if it works, there will be no wake-up date. She'll be in there indefinitely. So it's the long sleep…or the long sleep. And I don't know which is worse." He swallowed a lump in his throat, finger hovering over the activation key. "Forgive me," he whispered as he pressed it.

He pulled up the image from the camera in her room, watching as she began to take deeper breaths before her body slipped into stasis. She was alive. She just wasn't living.

"It worked!" he exclaimed, his voice hollow with relief. "Sleep well."

Both alive and dead, until someone opens the box.

Idly, he wondered if she remembered the patchy version of Schrödinger's Cat that he'd shared with her all those years ago.

He pulled another image up on the screen, a diagram of all the cryo-units. Chell's room and the five others nearest it flashed up green. The others were all red or unlit. Doug didn't have the time or energy to dwell on that. He'd saved her and, as a bonus, the other test subjects who happened to be on the same grid circuit as her. That would have to be enough. Maybe there was a chance he could save himself too.

Resorting to his old routes behind the walls, he made his slow, excruciating way back to the short-term stasis wing of Test Subject Storage. He crawled into the first glass room he came across, rewiring the pod so that it was tapped into another of the reserve power grids. The pods were designed to heal minor injuries that the test subjects acquired. He didn't know how it would handle a bullet wound, but it was the best chance he had.

"Maybe it's time I slept too," he said at last, when he'd set everything up. "I'm so tired now."

"You've earned a rest," the cube agreed.

Doug used it as a step up into the pod, vision beginning to swim. "You see," he panted, trying to push past the pain, "I told you I would always need you."

The pages of Chell's file tumbled out of the bag, but he was past caring, his body cloaked in bone-deep fatigue. He lowered the lid of the pod, eyes already drifting closed. No wake up date. He was in for a very long sleep. He was too tired to worry about how permanent it would be.

Outside his pod, the cube stood guard and watched the years roll by.

A/N: Hope you're enjoying this so far. There won't be an update next weekend as I'll be away.