Unknown year.
The Mural Room.
Feeling a little more refreshed and capable after his sleep, Doug made his way up through the ceiling outside his refuge, the office that he had decorated with a stylised Schrödinger's Cat diorama. He needed to get to his broken mural room, but he didn't want to use the elevators in the test chambers. Although it was tough-going with his recovering leg, the dilapidated state of the facility made it much easier to travel between levels, provided one knew how to climb safely. Doug had learned the skill pretty quickly after GLaDOS had taken over.
Due to his body being in suspension, the medication he'd taken prior to their almost-escape was only just wearing off. He was starting to see shadows again, to hear whispers from voices that weren't real. The cube, which not only spoke with Chell's voice but seemed to have inherited her stubbornness as well, had remained audible throughout most of the time he'd been medicated. He was relying on it now to be the loudest voice, to keep the others at bay, to remind him that their suggestions were not helpful. The cube had saved him when he'd first picked it up. The voices had had him convinced that eating food would cause Chell's death. As a result, he'd gone almost a week without eating, terrified of giving in and accidentally killing her. The cube had helped him see that the voices were wrong, and he'd eventually plucked up the courage to open a tin of beans.
As he climbed, he formed the plan of action to report back to Wheatley. It was very simple. There was no need to overcomplicate matters. He just had a few things he needed to pick up before he went back to the Relaxation Centre.
The mural room, (which, strictly speaking, did not deserve the term 'room' anymore), was in a sorrier state than he remembered. It was partially flooded with stagnant rain water, and it had been invaded by plants, broken walkways, and a section of wall that was designed to produce portals for the tests, which had clearly tumbled down there while he'd been out. The floor was still covered with debris from when he'd left in a hurry. He worked steadily, picking things up, tossing the rubbish aside. He found several of his paintbrushes, which he pocketed, as well as the remains of his Art Therapy book. It was falling apart, half of its pages wiped blank by water damage. He ran his fingertips over its faded, familiar cover, feeling strangely sentimental. The book had served him well over the years, helping him cope with his condition by focusing his mind through art.
Unsure what to do with it, Doug set it down behind one of the sections of wall and continued with his scavenging. He found his toolbox, which had kept most of the water out, and a couple of first aid kits. Once again using the cube as a seat, he found a roll of gauze bandage and wrapped it tightly around his right thigh, tying it in a messy double knot.
"There," he muttered. "A bit more support should make it easier to get around. I wish the painkillers were in date, though."
"Don't touch them," the cube advised. "Judging by the plants, I'd say they're pretty drastically out of date."
"Agreed."
He stood up, testing his leg. It still hurt, but it felt much more manageable, much less likely to buckle when he tried to walk. He sighed in relief, knowing that he now had a chance to rebuild its strength. Turning to smile at the cube, he found his eye caught by a glint of bright white outside the mural room.
"What's that?" he asked.
"What's what?"
He set off to investigate, wading through the ankle-deep water. It soaked his shoes and socks instantly, making him grimace. As he got closer he realised it was a portal device, lying almost-hidden under the surface of the water. He bent to pick it up, shaking it a little to get rid of the excess liquid. It seemed in remarkably good condition, but he was puzzled as to how it had ended up there. Tilting his head, he glanced up, seeing a few bright spots of daylight leaking through the ceiling high above.
"Must have fallen," he murmured, trying to get his bearings.
Is that test chamber two up there? he wondered idly.
He carried the device back to the murals, wiping it on his lab coat as he did so. It was just the single portal version, only firing blue portals, which linked with orange ones that were pre-placed in the chambers.
"You can take it back with us and give it to Chell!" the cube said excitedly.
"No," Doug replied firmly with a shake of his head. "I told you, I'm not going to see her."
"Well," it huffed back, "that's the stupidest decision you've ever made. Don't you think she'll want to see you? She hasn't seen a friendly face in–"
"She'll see Wheatley, that's enough," he cut in.
"That's not the same. Stop being evasive, it's annoying."
"I'm not, I just..." He sighed, shrugging. "She won't want to see me, not when she learns what I did. But she deserves to know. If I meet her, I will tell her. Which is why...I'd prefer not to see her."
"Has it occurred to you that she might understand?" the cube asked.
Of course it had occurred to him, but it seemed wishful thinking at best.
"I...I'm...just not convinced," he stuttered. "I'm...too afraid to find out, I guess."
"Ugh," the cube exclaimed, sounding utterly frustrated. "Why? You know her, you know how she's likely to react."
"Too many variables," Doug muttered. "I've made up my mind, don't push it, please. I'll leave the device here and tell Wheatley where she can find it. This level isn't far from the docking station for the Relaxation Centre. It's dark down here, though," he went on, thinking aloud. "Have to find some way of making it visible. If it even still works."
The cube seemed to have given up arguing. "If you fix that panel up there, you'll have an orange portal to test it with."
"Good point."
Doug rifled through the toolbox, picking out what he needed, then he awkwardly scrambled up to the listing walkway that the section of wall was leaning on. He spent a calm half hour making it work again, grinning in triumph when the fiery oval burst into life on the concrete, its surface rippling and opaque.
Cautiously easing himself down, he double-checked the device, then fired into the nearest mural. With a pop, the blue oval appeared on the wall, immediately linking with the orange one.
"It works!" he yelled, hopping through the portal and back again.
"Well done," the cube praised.
Stepping through again, Doug briefly disconnected the orange portal so that both fizzled out, then fixed it so that Chell would have an easy exit when she picked up the device. Returning to the flooded ground, he set about rewiring the broken floor panels, eventually managing to get them to spiral upward in a kind of sculpture-like staircase. He placed the portal gun at the top.
"There," he said, descending. "That should draw her attention. Although...a few arrows dotted around wouldn't hurt. You know, just in case."
The cube waited patiently for him as he splashed about, drawing guiding arrows on the walls in various directions. Then, leaving his paintings behind, Doug made his way back to the Relaxation Centre.
Wheatley was agitated when he got there, grumbling for several minutes about how long he had been away. He soon shut up when Doug started to explain his plan, however.
"I've kept it simple," the scientist began, knowing full well that where Wheatley was concerned, simple was the best way to do things.
"Okay, okay," the core said, bobbing up and down. "What do you need me to do?"
"You have the most important job," Doug told him, trying not to smile as the robot puffed himself out a little in pride. "Later, you need to wake up Chell and the other test subject. Guide them to the breaker room beneath the A.I. chamber and..."
Wheatley's optic had shrunk to a pin prick in fear. "The...uh...main chamber, did you say?"
"I did," Doug said firmly. "It will be fine, she's switched off."
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes, I saw it myself."
Wheatley looked away briefly, then faced him again. "Okay...if you definitely know that she's, uh, she's off, then...I'll do it."
"I know she's off," Doug repeated, "but I'll go ahead and check, if you like. If there are any problems, I'll come find you. If you don't hear from me, proceed as planned."
"How will I know you've actually checked?" Wheatley asked, optic narrowing suspiciously.
Inwardly sighing at the core's attitude, Doug decided to humour him to keep things easy. "I was planning on going that way anyway, to leave some arrows for Chell to follow. You'll see those."
"Okay. Then what?"
"Take the test subjects to the breaker room, summon the escape elevator. Then...leave." He shrugged, conscious of how anti-climactic it sounded.
Wheatley gave another nodding movement. "Okay, sounds doable. What will you be doing?"
"I'll find another way out," Doug said simply.
"Aww there's no need for that, mate! We can all fit in the lift, no problem."
Doug sent him a lacklustre smile. "I know, but I'd rather wait until you're all out first. You know, just in case there are any problems. I'm not expecting any," he added hastily, seeing Wheatley's optic move sharply. "But...you know. Just in case."
"Right...okay then." He began to move along the management rail. "I'll go wake her up, then!"
"No, no, no!" Doug stammered, darting forward, hands outstretched. "You need to wait. Wait...I don't know, three hours? Then wake them up. Both of them, okay?"
"Got it," Wheatley assured him.
"When you get to the breaker room, don't press any of the switches except the one for the elevator, okay?" Doug said, fixing the core with an adamant look. "I'm not sure what they all do."
"Okay, noted."
Nodding, Doug bit his lip in thought. "I think that's about it. I'll get going to check the way is safe. You should be able to get across the Relaxation Centre to the docking station. There's a portal device not far from there. I've already checked the route, it's pretty straightforward." He frowned up at the core, who was absentmindedly looking up at the hole-ridden ceiling. "Are you listening?"
"Huh?" Wheatley said quickly, turning his optic Doug's way. "Yes! Docking station, portal device, got it."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
Doug fixed him with a sharp look, holding up his index finger. "Above all else, do not – and I mean do not – mention me, even if Chell asks you. Just...pretend you haven't seen me. Okay?"
"Um...okay then. Can't say I understand why, but okay."
"Good. Thanks." He gave a nod in acknowledgement.
Wheatley bobbed back, then brightened. "Well, see you on the surface then, hopefully."
Doug raised his brows in mild surprise. "I guess you will. Good luck."
"Won't need it," Wheatley said confidently. "Everything will be fine."
Not quite sharing his optimistic opinion, Doug smiled anyway. "Let's hope so." With that, he and the cube left the Relaxation Centre, destination: the main A.I. chamber.
Waking up was a strange experience for Chell. Her body came back to life gradually, leaving her ample time to lie still and listen to the unfamiliar sounds around her. There was a voice, but it was fuzzy. Her head ached from where she'd hit the ground after being pulled up after GLaDOS, and there was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, a cloying at the back of her throat. When she remembered how to open her eyes, she saw a dimly-lit, dilapidated motel room that smelt of damp. She knew at once that it wasn't a motel room. There was a management rail in the ceiling.
She didn't remember what had occurred to bring her back into the facility. Anger flared inside her as she thought about the escape she'd almost had. To wake up back again was a total slap in the face.
Chell shifted carefully off the bed she found herself on, stretching her tender limbs. Everything hurt. Her right wrist was aching where she'd landed on it. The graze on her head wasn't bleeding, which was promising, but there were painful abrasions on the back of her legs. She lightly ran her fingertips over the peeled-back skin on her heels, seeing the cuts dotted with tiny pieces of gravel. Someone, or something, had dragged her across the parking lot. The springs she'd worn were missing, and her calves were streaked with dried blood from the deep scrapes they had left behind. They'd been pulled off harshly, if she was judging correctly, and the wounds looked messy enough to scar. She wished she'd made it to a pod. The pods were designed to heal a test subject's wounds.
Another voice cut the first one off, accompanied by a tapping at the door. Chell froze, eyes wide, then she realised that this voice was familiar. She'd heard it dozens of times. On stiff legs, she darted to the door, tugging it open.
"Arrgh! Oh god!" Wheatley yelled in shock, his optic illuminating Chell's look of disbelief. "You look terri...um...good. Looking good, actually."
The throwback to how he'd used to greet people to her office made her smile in reflex, the motion catching her off guard. Her face felt strangely numb and stiff, as if her muscles hadn't formed any prominent expressions in a long time. She wrinkled her nose, scrunching up her features in an attempt to loosen them.
"Are you okay?" Wheatley asked, scooting forward into the room.
A valid question, considering the faces she'd been pulling. A stray flicker of amusement flashed through her brain as she wondered what he thought she was doing. She quashed it, mindful of her current situation. There would be time for amusement later. She hoped.
"I'm fine," Chell said.
Or rather, tried to.
Nothing came out. As Wheatley rattled on, oblivious, she silently cleared her throat and repeated the phrase. Still nothing.
Okay, she told herself. Don't panic. It's probably just a waking-up problem, it will come back.
She swallowed hard, glancing back up at the core, whose tirade of words had yet to come to a halt. He was interrupted by a warning announcement that called for emergency evacuation, then quickly told her to stay calm. It seemed a tall order for Chell to stay anything even remotely resembling calm, so she didn't bother trying.
Wheatley vanished up into the ceiling, adjusting some kind of control that caused the room to lurch. Caught off guard, Chell stumbled against the wall and stayed there until it stopped. When Wheatley reappeared, he again launched into a convoluted speech that he could have easily summed up in a third of the time. Feeling as though her mind had suddenly become a whirlpool that spun fragments of emotion around snippets of worrying information, Chell didn't take in everything he was talking about.
"Do you understand what I'm saying at all? Is any of this making any sense?" he asked her, taking a break. "Just tell me, just say 'yes'."
"I don't think I can," she tried cautiously, already expecting the silence. It would save them both time if he understood what was happening with her voice. She gave a small hop to get his attention.
"Okay," he commented seriously, "what you're doing there is jumping. Um...you just...you just jumped. But never mind, say 'apple'. 'Apple'."
"I. Am. Trying. To," she mouthed exasperatedly. Touching her throat, she added, "I. Can't. Speak."
But Wheatley was clearly not programmed to lip read. Declaring her efforts 'close enough', he once more disappeared through the hatch in the ceiling to begin their escape.
After a terrifying, destructive ride across the Relaxation Centre, Chell found herself looking down through the crumbled wall of her once-intact room at one of the short-term chambers she'd been in before.
Wheatley was keen for her to leave straight away to find the portal gun, claiming that they'd have an easier escape with it. While Chell agreed, she knew she had to take care of herself first. There was a small bathroom off to one side of the room's short corridor that was largely undamaged. Safely shut up in there, she washed the grazes on her legs, making sure they were as least likely to get infected as she could manage. She found spare clothing in there too. It was only a replacement orange jumpsuit, but it was clean, so she pulled it on, tying the arms around her waist. She tugged an Aperture logo-stamped vest over her own top, feeling that layers were a sensible idea. Then, finally, she reached for a pair of bizarre-looking boots that incorporated the leg springs she'd worn before. From what she'd seen through the hole in the wall, she would be jumping down into another testing track, so the boots would be essential. With her scrapes and bruises, however, they were far from comfortable. Still, she knew they were a lesser of evils.
Thus attired, Chell returned to the main room, where Wheatley was urging her to head on her way. She understood his haste, as an announcement about the reactor core safeguards being non-functional had put her on edge. However, it would have been reckless to set off without looking for supplies first.
"I'm going," she tried to say, her voice once again refusing to cooperate. She brushed her fingers down her neck anxiously, wondering what had caused her hopefully-temporary muteness. She suspected the neurotoxin, which had coated her throat and lungs regardless of her breath-holding, and had made her feel as if her skin had been burning.
She huffed in frustration. She had so many questions she wanted to ask Wheatley, but he remained ignorant of her clumsy signs. Better that she just get on with escaping until she could find paper and a pen. Giving up on trying to make the core understand her, Chell turned and stepped through the hole in the wall.
"That's the spirit!" Wheatley said cheerfully.
Chell gave him a thumbs up, then dropped through the glass ceiling into the stasis chamber below.
As she made her way through tests she'd solved before, she began to appreciate how long she'd been in suspension. The facility was a warzone, its crumbled walls showing the areas behind the test chambers, the hole-ridden ceilings laced through with tangled vines. The whole effect was unnerving to Chell – who was now more certain than ever that everyone she cared about was dead – but it also made her less apprehensive about retracing her steps through the tests, as there were clear escape routes in every chamber.
When she met up with Wheatley again, in the room that was supposed to house the portal device, she gave a half-hearted attempt at a greeting, but it was no use. Her voice was gone, and she was terrified that she'd never get it back. Without vanity, she knew that she was an attractive young woman with pleasing features, but she relied on her voice to make her stubborn, sharp-witted personality her most defining attribute. The last thing she wanted to be was a silent, vacant-looking, pretty girl.
Her missing voice was just the latest item on her growing list of concerns. She was surprised that she hadn't gone insane with the amount of worries she had spinning through her head.
But then, she thought, how can you even measure insanity in a place like this?
At Wheatley's insistence, she ventured cautiously into the centre of the room to search for the portal gun. The floor gave an ominous jolt and Chell hastily backpedalled. Before she could reach the outskirts, the tiles gave way, plummeting down with the portal gun's podium and the ill-fated test subject in tow. She gave a silent yell as she fell, landing thankfully on her feet in a shallow lake of musty-smelling water.
"Hello?" Wheatley's anxious tones drifted down to where she stood.
Chell tilted her head back to see the small, square patch of light, the only indication of where she'd come from. She didn't like the look of the climb, especially taking her sore wrist into account, and decided to take an alternative route. No doubt she'd stumble across another test chamber soon enough.
"Can you see the portal gun?" the core went on. "Also, are you alive?" he added quickly. "That's important, should have asked that first."
Chell rolled her eyes, unsurprised to hear his tactlessness and lack of apology. She'd grown used to the less pleasant aspects of his personality over the months he'd worked in her office. The fact that they were so…human…still made her uncomfortable.
"I'm...do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to work on the assumption that you're still alive and I'm just going to wait for you up ahead," Wheatley called down. "I'll wait - I'll wait one hour. Then I'll come back and, assuming I can locate your dead body, I'll bury you. All right? Brilliant. Go team! See you in an hour. Hopefully. If you're not...dead."
Silence fell above. Chell glanced around, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. As they did so, she spotted an arrow scribbled on a propped-up concrete wall panel. She splashed over to it, sweeping her palm over the stone's dotted surface. The ink was dry. Chell frowned, softly huffing. She wasn't sure what she'd really expected, but after finding graffiti before that had been fresh… She guessed part of her was still hoping that someone else had survived besides her.
She moved on from the arrow, walking in the direction it had pointed. The narrow space widened out into a clearing, dominated by wall-sized boards displaying murals. As she got closer, Chell realised that they were walls, just separated by the explosions that had wrecked the facility. In the centre of the space, floor panels twisted upwards in a kind of staircase, holding the portal device just above eye level.
That's…not an accident, she reflected as she ascended. Somebody did this on purpose, after I took GLaDOS out.
She knelt to pick up the device, noting the pre-placed orange portal already activated.
Somebody…is…still alive, she thought hesitantly, feeling her heart start to thump quicker as she considered the idea. Or they were, just after I…
Her wrist protested as she lifted the gun and she let out a little hiss of pain.
Not good.
Wondering how she was going to manage to hold the device and use it properly, she awkwardly tucked it under one arm and turned to make her way down the panels. She hadn't yet taken a proper look at the murals, and the sight of the piece she found herself facing made her stop in her tracks.
It was unmistakably her image, a portrait painted in haste but with care. She looked tranquil, her eyes closed, her arms gently outstretched. The likeness was very good, despite the stylised technique.
Numbly, she sat down on the panels, the device lying forgotten across her lap. The painting style was not altogether unfamiliar. A whisper of suspicion crossed her mind, one that had passed that way before and been instantly dismissed on grounds of wishful thinking. Chell had initially been under the impression that the graffiti she'd found in the test chambers had been put there for the benefit of any test subject. Then, as she'd given more thought to the identity of the person responsible, she had briefly begun to consider a different possibility.
He promised me he'd survive. He promised.
Leaving the portal device on the panels, Chell walked the rest of the way down and examined the murals up close, not sure what to think. The signs were there and her instinct was shouting at her, but she wasn't sure. She needed to be sure. Then, as if answering her wishes, she spotted something behind one of the panels. Crouching, she reached for it and pulled Doug's tattered Art Therapy book into the light. Her mouth fell open in astonishment as she was finally granted the answers. Then she promptly burst into tears.
She'd been successful in holding back her emotions to an extent, obstinately not allowing herself to feel overwhelmed, even though she knew she was out of her depth. Now, at the point of realising that it had been her best friend guiding her, helping her get past turrets, leaving her food and water so that she could keep going, she cried. She cried in relief that he'd survived, in fear that time had taken him as it had taken the facility, in guilt as she remembered calling him a cowardly asshole when her anger had flared, in sympathy as she imagined what his life had been like on the run, and, finally, in hurt confusion that he had never shown himself.
Then, as her defences were down, she cried for her father and friends, and everyone else who had fallen to GLaDOS's regime. She hadn't yet had confirmation of her father's death, but she knew the truth. She'd known ever since she'd first woken up on the testing track, she just hadn't been able to face it.
The flow of tears halted as she released all her bottled-up feelings, leaving her drained but calmer. As before, Doug was the person she placed her faith in. A spark of hope clamoured for attention as she considered whether it was possible that he was still alive somewhere in the complex. She wanted to believe, but she tried to keep her theories rational. She'd just find herself facing crushing disappointment otherwise.
I can't even shout for him, she realised bitterly. And there's no way I'd get Wheatley to understand enough to do it for me.
Chell got to her feet, leaving the book where it was. Wiping her cheeks, she wandered back to the portal device, remembering that Wheatley would only wait an hour. They were on their way to find an exit, a mission she very much approved of.
If I get out, will Doug do the same? she wondered, biting her lip, deciding, for the moment, to hope for the best and assume he was alive. Probably. That's what I'd do.
Her best bet was to get out. She could wait for Doug on the surface and plan her next move from there. She knew that if she was waiting too long, she'd have to rethink, but she didn't want to consider that until she was forced to.
Resolved, Chell reached for the portal gun, gritting her teeth in anticipation of her wrist hurting. Something else caught her eye, distracting her instantly. It was a first aid box, almost unnoticeable in the shadow of the broken gantry leading out of the room. She hurried over to it, unable to suppress a grin when she found a couple of rolls of gauze bandage. She stuffed one of them in the pocket of her jumpsuit and unwrapped the other. Gripping one end with her teeth, she managed to bind her wrist tightly, immediately feeling the difference the support gave. When she lifted the portal device it still hurt, but it was functional, and she no longer felt as if her wrist would give way under the weight.
She shot a blue portal into the nearest wall, stepping through onto the listing walkway. With a last look back at her portrait, Chell left the paintings behind and continued on her way.