A/N: And here we are at Portal 2. I've been meaning to explore what Doug might have gotten up to if he'd survived and been active, so this story finally gave me a chance to do that :)

Unknown year.
Still Alive.

Nature had reclaimed the higher levels of Aperture Laboratories. To the clinical, controlled fortress of man-made achievements, it was an unmistakeable middle finger up. In the end, science had no defence against the passage of time and a collection of determined weeds. The cores that had tried to run the place alone found their duties hampered by damaged management rails, debris blocking their paths, or simply internal corruption that had no one to fix it.

The scientists were long gone, wiped out by neurotoxin or beaten by a test chamber. Only their fallen belongings marked their existence. The test subjects were also long gone. Those awaiting testing had been put in suspension and had died peacefully in their sleep following a critical power failure that had shut off their relaxation vaults. Only a handful remained, those whose cryo-chambers were patched into the reserve power.

In another part of the Relaxation Centre, a single short-term stasis chamber sat in a large corner of the grid-like corridor system, moved there by an obliging housekeeping core that thought it was tidying up. It too was patched into the reserve power, making its occupant the seventh survivor in the entire facility.

A curious personality core noticed the chamber when he was exploring the confines of his management rail, and immediately knew that it wasn't supposed to be there. In attempting to open the boxy room made entirely of glass, the core accidentally powered it down. Alarmed that he'd killed the occupant, the core zipped away from the scene of the crime.

Inside the pod, the man in stasis had two paths ahead: wake up or die. He woke up. The pod gave him no choice in the matter. The loss of reserve power meant an automatic revival. He woke up screaming. He'd drifted into unconsciousness half convinced that he would die. To be rudely awoken again after that sort of mind-set was a tremendous shock.

Pushing the transparent lid of the pod, he sat up, coughing, examining the aches and pains of his body. His leg seemed to be healed, he noticed. The blood was dry and the wound scabbed over, but it hurt. Moving experimentally drew a hiss of breath through his teeth as his hastily-mended limb protested. Warily, he pressed a hand lightly to the bruised skin around the wound. It was cool to the touch, like the rest of him. He sniffed cautiously, but could smell nothing but the musty, earthy scent of the facility, coupled with his own sweat. No infection, then. He just hoped the bullet was out, or he'd have serious trouble further down the line.

"You're awake!"

Although the voice had no direction, he turned his head towards the object that his mind told him had spoken: the scuffed, dusty companion cube by the pod.

"You too," he said, his voice gruff after however-long-it-had-been in stasis. "Were you sleeping as well?"

"I always sleep when you do."

"Of course."

"I think we were out for a long time, Doug."

Looking around at the cracked walls and overgrown plants, Doug had to agree. There was no way of knowing how long it had been, not from inside the vault.

He eased himself out of the pod, gingerly putting weight on his wounded leg. The stab of pain made him gasp and softly swear. The leg wobbled almost comically, his knee uncontrollably shaky, but it didn't give way. He'd get used to it. He had to.

"Careful!" the cube advised.

"I'm always careful," he rasped.

"If that was true you wouldn't have that hole in your thigh."

He sighed heavily, stretching, hearing his joints pop and click. "That was different. It was an emergency."

"Is she awake too?"

There were, of course, two 'she's in Doug's life, and he could always tell which one the cube meant by the tone of its voice. One was all casual brightness, the other a sinister kind of awe and trepidation, as if it deserved a capital letter. This was the former.

"I have no idea."

He limped around the small, glass room, picking up the fallen sheets of Chell's file notes and tucking them back into their folder. They were dusty, like everything else around him, but they weren't weathered otherwise. He caught sight of his reflection in the walls: pale-faced, drastic shadows in the hollows of his cheekbones and under his eyes, his dark hair and beard untidy where he'd cut them himself. He looked a mess, but he hadn't aged. His hair and fingernails were the same length they had been when he'd first climbed into the pod.

He scooped up his bag and shook the dust off it, dropping the file inside. Then he picked up the cube and set it on the pod, running a hand over it to clear the gathered dirt.

"Looks like we're both a mess," he commented as he worked.

"Speak for yourself," the cube quipped.

Doug chuckled briefly. Looking around, he took in the sheer silence that surrounded him. He couldn't see much from where he was, which, he noted, was not where he had been when he'd fallen asleep. The vault seemed to have been dumped in a wide corridor, completely cutting off the route. It was separated from its control panel, too, which meant that he'd have to smash his way out.

"If everything is all…overgrown," he mused, "then maybe there's a chance we can get into the cryo-chambers."

"And free the girl?"

"Yes. And I'm done calling her that, by the way. I can't do it anymore. I can't deny who she is, not after everything she's done." He fixed the cube with a firm look. "She's Chell. She's my friend. And I'm going to save her."

"Okay," it answered softly.

He nodded, patting it on its top heart.

"I wonder why we woke up," it said thoughtfully. "There isn't anything happening, is there?"

"It doesn't seem like it," Doug replied. "It is weird. Why would we wake now after so long? What changed?"

He caught a flash of blue in his peripheral vision and the cube said, "Look!"

Pivoting on his good leg, he turned to the wall that faced the corridor. There was a personality core on the rail in the ceiling, looking as if it was peeping around the corner. Its bright, azure optic was half hidden behind the wall. Doug frowned as he stared at it.

"That's not…it can't be. Can it?"

"What?" the cube asked.

Limping over to the glass wall, he crooked a finger, beckoning the core over. After a moment's hesitation, it complied. As it got closer, it became clear that his suspicions were correct.

"You're alive!" it said, optic wide in a kind of grin.

The familiar, friendly, British-accented voice was muffled by the glass, but was still audible.

Doug grinned back. "Wheatley!"

The core seemed startled, fixing his gaze on him in apparent confusion. "Uh…I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"It's Doug," he yelled. "Doug Rattmann."

"Can't be," Wheatley said, shaking his whole body as a human would shake his head. "All the scientists are dead. Besides, I happen to know Doug Rattmann, okay, and he did not have hair on his face. I would've remembered that."

"It is me. The hair is…it's something that happens to humans over time, their hair grows. For some, that includes on their faces."

Wheatley was managing to look dubious.

Doug tried again. "Look, I'll prove it. The first time we met was when Chell got lost in the corridors and you led her back, then she brought me over to see you. After that, you worked in her office and I used to pop in occasionally."

"Say I believe your story," the core said suspiciously, "how do you explain being alive when all the others are dead?"

"I was in a pod like this one. It kept me alive."

Wheatley glanced behind him at the stasis pod and the cube sitting calmly on top of it. "I see," he said. "You, uh, you look kind of trapped in there."

"I plan to break the glass," Doug told him.

Wheatley's optic brightened. "Ah! I can help you there. I know how to hack the wall."

Doug raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yep. Just…just turn around for a second, would you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I can't, uh, can't do it if you're watching." He gave what sounded like an embarrassed laugh.

Shrugging, Doug turned. There was a moment of silence, then he jumped as the wall behind him smashed. Eyes wide, he spun around. Wheatley was shaking glass fragments off his shell, managing to look quite pleased with himself.

"There," he said. "Hacked."

"In a manner of speaking," Doug muttered. "Um…thank you."

"You're welcome."

Another stab of pain in his leg had him suddenly sweating, his vision starting to blur. Firmly against the idea of passing out, Doug limped over to pull the cube off the stasis pod, setting it down so that he could sit on it. Awkwardly, fighting the stiffness of his muscles, he put his head between his knees.

"You look terrible, mate," Wheatley observed.

Doug laughed humourlessly. "Oh, I know."

"That wound is healed, right?" the cube piped up.

"I just need to get used to it," he replied stubbornly, wondering if he was telling the whole truth. He considered whether he should bandage it and, if so, what with. "Do I have a first aid kit with me?"

"No, you left them in the mural room, remember?"

"Ah," he grunted, cautiously sitting upright. "You're right, I did. Damn."

"Um…" said Wheatley, peering at him. "Are you okay? I could've sworn you were talking to that cube."

Doug leaned back against the stasis pod, rubbing his gritty eyes. "I do that sometimes," he explained simply. "Don't worry about it."

"O…kay."

"You seemed surprised to see me alive," he said, changing the subject. "Why was that?"

The core shifted his optic guiltily. "Um….well, I may have…I thought I may have killed you. Accidentally. Turns out I actually woke you up, so…so that's good, isn't it? Not dead, and awake to boot. Win, win."

"Yes," he agreed, "it's very good. Listen, Wheatley, is there anyone else awake? Human, I mean."

"Um, no. Gonna say no. Not right now."

Taking a breath, he asked the critical question. "Is there anyone else alive?"

"Oh yes," Wheatley said brightly. "There are two test subjects."

Face paling further, he repeated, "Two? That's all?"

Again, the core looked decidedly shifty. "Well, to be honest it's been a bit boring in here in the past several years. Most of the test subjects died long ago, something to do with the big power failure that, uh, that happened. But some of them were patched into the reserve power, along with you, and they survived. For a while."

"Then what happened?"

"Um…well….I, uh, I thought I'd try and wake one of them up so that we could escape."

Doug's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You wanted to escape?"

"Yes. It's either terrifying or boring working here now, depending on whether…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Whether…She…is awake. Nobody's heard from her for a good long while, mind. But that doesn't mean that she won't wake up again. So, I decided to escape while things were quiet, thought having someone with legs along for the journey might be a good idea, so…"

"So you woke a test subject," Doug finished for him.

"Yes. And…well, the plan didn't go well, let's just say that. Turns out that the test subjects aren't much use outside of the test chambers. I tried to leave four times, right, and they all died on the way, each and every one of them."

Doug felt a wave of alarm pass through him, racking his body with cold nausea. "But there are two left? Out of the six on the reserve grid?"

"That's right," Wheatley said nodding. "I thought I'd quit while I was ahead, to be honest. You know, figure out what was going wrong before I tried again. I haven't, uh, haven't got too far with that yet." His optic widened, turning towards Doug. "Hey, here's an idea: let's you and me escape together! Bet we'd make a great team."

Forcing a smile onto his face, Doug nodded. "Yes, that's a great idea, but I've got some stuff to sort out first. I need you to answer something. It's important, really important."

"Oh. Okay."

"The four test subjects that you woke up…were any of them Chell?"

"No," Wheatley said at once. "Definitely not. They were all men actually. Well, except the one who was a woman."

Doug's face, which had been gradually brightening at his words, fell into dismay once more.

"No, no," the core went on, "it's okay, though. This woman had yellow hair. She looked nothing like Chell. Also, she had some kind of weird, demonic symbols on her arms. Not sure what those were about, definitely evil if you ask me."

Doug had neither the time nor the inclination to explain tattoos to him, instead focusing on what he'd said. "So, Chell is still alive? Still asleep?"

"I haven't seen her, mate. It's possible she could be in there."

"Okay," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, that's…that's good. That's very good." He didn't allow himself to think of the nameless others, mindful of distractions, and quashed the flicker of guilt that flared up in the face of his forced callousness. Chell was alive. That would have to be enough.

There was a brief pause, broken by Wheatley. "So, um, what about this escaping then?"

"Right. Yes, that." Doug sat up straighter, keeping his sore leg stretched out in front of him. "We will escape, I promise you, but I'm not leaving without her. Or the other test subject, if we can. We're all going to get out of here together. Okay?"

Wheatley was giving off an air of uncertainty, but he bobbed his optic in a nod. "Okay. What do you have in mind?"

"I'll need to think about that." He leaned back again, wincing as he moved. "How did you come to be in this part of the facility anyway?" he asked.

"Ah, well, the order for that came from above. You know, from…from Her," Wheatley answered. "I stayed in the office for ages after the alarms went off, you know, waiting for Chell to come back. Then I realised that no one was coming back. A message came through saying that I had to go and find a job elsewhere, so I tried my hand at a few different things. Eventually, got ordered up here to keep an eye on the humans. To be honest, they've never done very much. Mostly just sleeping."

Doug nodded in response, closing his eyes briefly. He may have been asleep for years, but he still felt bone-tired and weak.

"Your leg may be mended," said the cube wisely, "but you still lost a lot of blood. You're going to have to build up your strength again."

He patted it in acknowledgement. It was probably right. Whatever the pod had done was clearly not a natural form of healing. His leg almost felt in shock, as if it was confused about the lack of bullet and had decided to continue making him feel like he'd only just been shot.

That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever come up with, he thought cynically, pushing the image aside.

"Are we far from cryo-control?" he asked Wheatley.

"No, not far," the core replied. "It's the next level down. Why? Got a plan, have you?"

He didn't, but he wasn't about to share that information freely. "Maybe. Just need to check some details."

"Okay. Follow me, I'll take you there."

"Sounds good. Just give me a minute to grab my stuff."

He tentatively stood up, leaning heavily on the stasis pod. As he put everything back in his bag, using the pod as a desk, he spotted something lying on the padded bed. Opening the transparent lid, he reached for it. It was a bullet, burnished bronze and dotted with dried blood. His.

"Well," he murmured. "That answers that."

"At least it's not still in you," the cube commented.

"Yes. That's something."

He pocketed it, although he wasn't sure why, and picked up the cube, setting it in the bag with everything else. Then he swung it onto his back and turned to face Wheatley.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Gritting his teeth, he carefully stepped over the broken glass to join the personality core in the corridor. They made slow progress until Doug's leg felt a little more manageable. The elevator between floors was the easiest part.

"Are the elevators running on reserve power too?" the cube asked.

Doug shrugged, examining the panel on the wall. "It doesn't say, but I guess they must be. They probably count as priority equipment."

Wheatley was waiting for them in cryo-control, having slid down a vertical section of rail. Doug limped out to meet him, panting at the effort. By the time he sank thankfully into the wheeled desk chair at the console, he was clammy with sweat. The computer keyboard was still splattered with his bloody fingerprints. Although the system still allowed him access, it appeared confused about the passage of time, flashing up a constant 12:00 where the time had once been. The date read 01.01.01, which was clearly incorrect. He'd been twenty-six in 2001, and it felt like a lifetime ago.

He pulled up the security images for Chell's room, the number still fresh in his memory. She was just as he had left her, unconscious, breathing suspended with the rest of her body. Some of his anxiety melted away at the sight of her.

"Still alive," the cube said, sounding as if it wanted to smile.

"Still alive," he repeated, not bothering to hide his relief.

"That's good," put in Wheatley.

Next, Doug accessed the diagrams for the cryo-units. True to Wheatley's story, all but two of them were showing as empty or flashing red, indicating that they housed a deceased occupant. Grimacing, he found the reports for the short-term units. They too were all lit red, but for the one that he had just come from.

"That's why your chamber was up here," Wheatley put in, peering over his shoulder. "All the others were dead, so the housekeeping core thought it made sense for you to be in this department. Stupid, really."

Doug sat back in his chair, his heart heavy in his chest. Three survivors out of hundreds, possibly thousands. That hadn't been what he'd intended at all. He'd hoped that he'd be able to wake everyone up after Chell had taken GLaDOS down. But then, he hadn't counted on the turret.

He knew he needed to come up with a plan, but first he had to take care of himself: find food and water, find a first aid kit so he could bind his leg, then get some proper sleep that wasn't artificial suspension. Chell and the other test subject would be fine where they were for the moment.

Tilting his head, he looked up at Wheatley. "I need to go and find food," he told the core. "I need rest, so that I can put the finishing touches on the plan."

"Fair enough, fair enough," Wheatley said cheerfully. "I can wait. Just, uh, just don't be too long, all right? I get nervous up here by myself."

Doug sent him a sympathetic smile. "I won't be long, I promise. I just…need to do human things. I'll be back in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay. I'll wait right here."

"See you later."

Leaving the Relaxation Centre behind him, Doug tried to remember where his nearest supply den was, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was in one of the observation offices, adjacent to testing track five, the one that Chell had run prior to defeating GLaDOS. It was a long walk, especially on his sore leg, but he made it.

The facility was a wreck, overgrown with vines, burst pipes dripping water on the carpets, entire walls crumbled away. The office, once securely behind the walls of the test chamber, was now accessible from the testing track due to broken wall tiles and fallen ceiling debris. Too weary to be bothered, Doug ascended the stairs anyway, finding the small refuge practically as he had left it, save for the ceiling tiles that were now scattered on the floor.

"Is it safe to rest here?" the cube queried.

"As much as it is anywhere, I think," he replied, bending to pick up a can of beans. "At least I thought to leave some food behind, even if I have nothing to heat it up on."

He ventured back out of the office to fill up one of his large water bottles with the water dripping down, finally able to quench his thirst and wet his dry lips. Returning, he forced himself to eat the cold beans before he curled up under the desk, wary of falling tiles, and fell into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.