2035.
Building Bridges.

Chell stared at the battered metal ball, who in turn was staring at her. He looked in surprisingly good condition for a sphere that had spent three months in space and had then fallen to Earth. His optic sparked as he looked at her, opened wide like an innocent eye.

"Um…may I say that you both look great! Looking…really good and healthy and, um, and not dead. So that's….that's good."

Chell felt a curious mix of emotions stir up in the face of his sudden appearance. She'd missed him, it was true, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten what he'd put her through. It was easier to miss him while he'd been in space, where she didn't have any means of venting her anger. If he'd been human, she could have settled things with a satisfying punch in the face, but that option would only lead to a bruised hand.

"Look, I'm…I'm really sorry," he spoke up. "I'm sorry for what I did to you and to the facility. I'm sorry I broke your trust, both of you. I thought….I thought I could handle the responsibility, but…I was wrong. I was…what did I say before? Oh yeah. I was bossy and monstrous, and…I'm genuinely sorry."

The apology was surprising, but seemed as sincere as Wheatley was capable of being. Chell considered whether it changed things, and concluded that it did. She was still fuming. She thought she would be for a long time. But she was tired of raging at things. It was exhausting, and achieved nothing but giving her more pent-up worries to deal with. She still remembered Wheatley as the friendly little core that had shared her office for over a year. That was what had made his betrayal so much worse, but it was also why she had missed his cheerful tones.

Still, she'd made her decision. Without a word, she turned and stomped out of the ruined house, walking briskly away across the grass.

"Hey! Hey wait! You can't just leave me here! I can't move, I'll get eaten by lions or something!"

Doug caught her arm, making her halt. "Chell, he's right, we can't leave him here," he said in a low voice.

"Yes, we can," she insisted.

"We can't. What if someone else picks him up?"

She fixed him with a steely gaze. "He fell to Earth, and with literally the entire world to choose from, he happens to fall right where we happen to be staying. Somewhere that we'd only have been for one night. Do you really think that's a coincidence?"

"No, of course not," he said, shaking his head. "But the fact remains, we can't leave him for someone else to find. He could start blabbing about Aperture. People could go looking for it."

Chell paused, biting her lip. He had a point there.

"I don't know what he's up to," Doug went on, "but if we leave him here we'll never find out. And…who knows, maybe it's something we'd be interested in hearing about."

She sighed, realising he was right. "Well…maybe we can gift him to Dr. Kleiner to say sorry for destroying his ship."

Doug smiled, looking a little sheepish about it. "That's a bit cruel."

"To whom?"

"Both of them."

"Well, sorry if I don't feel like babysitting," she muttered angrily.

Doug fell silent, looking away.

"I'm sorry," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't want to snap at you. I'm just tired, and this is…so not what we need to be dealing with right now."

"I know," he said with a nod, meeting her eyes. "But we have no choice. Let's just…carry on."

"I think we should build a fire and have some breakfast first," Chell decided. "I'm cold. Aren't you?"

"I am, actually. Good call, we probably shouldn't leave without drying off first."

Chell offered him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "Go get the fire started. I'll pick up our mouthy friend."

"Okay," he agreed. "Try not to kill him, please."

"Can't promise anything."

As Doug headed back to their belongings, Chell once again picked her way through the debris of the ruined house. Wheatley's optic brightened as he saw her.

"Oh! You…you came back," he said with surprise. "Um…not really sure what to say now. That's never happened before, you coming back. Even when I asked nicely."

Chell crouched down in front of him, addressing him with a stern finger pointed at his optic. "Listen to me," she began.

Of course, he couldn't possibly obey that order. "Oh wow, you got your voice back! That's tremendous!"

"What did I just say?"

"Oh right. Um….sorry."

"We don't trust you," she told him bluntly. "But we're not going to abandon you either. We'll take you with us, but if there is any trouble of any kind, you're out. You hear me?"

Wheatley made a subtle, nervous gulping sound. "Um…yes. Yes, I hear you. Loud and clear. No trouble, got it. Um…thank you."

She nodded, picking him up and standing. She brushed the dirt and dust off him with her sleeve, inspecting him for damage. "You seem in good shape, considering."

"Aperture products. Built to last," he recited. "Able to withstand up to four degrees kelvin."

Chell scoffed.

"Or four-thousand," he amended thoughtfully. "I forget which. Four-something degrees kelvin, anyway."

"But GLaDOS crushed you so easily after we woke her up," she said with a frown.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered with a trace of bitter sarcasm. "She's really strong. That's why she scares me so much."

"Hmm."

She carried him over to the house, where Doug had already managed to get the fire burning. Chell smiled at that. They'd relied quite heavily on the survival skills he'd taught himself over the years.

"What do you want?" he asked, rifling through his backpack. "We have canned fruit or canned fruit."

"Surprise me," she retorted sardonically.

"We're out of coffee."

Chell shot him a sharp look. "What? How did that happen?"

Doug smiled mischievously, holding up the jar of granules. "You said surprise you," he said defensively when she glared at him.

"Never do that again."

Doug chuckled, spooning coffee into the plastic cups they'd been using. Chell crouched down to tug her blanket out of her own backpack, arranging it into a kind of ring shape so that Wheatley could prop up without rolling around.

"So, how did you get here?" Doug asked the core bluntly, when Chell took her seat next to him.

"Um…not sure, to be honest," said Wheatley, his optic shifting. "I think something hit me. I was facing the other way. Bit difficult to control, y'know…in space. Um…as soon as I got within a…some kind of radius of Earth, this beacon thing activated. Didn't even know I had it. It honed in on an Aperture signal and I was able to fall towards it. Don't ask me how. Don't even know. They never told me about half this stuff I seem to be kitted out with."

"Wait, what Aperture signal?" Chell said with a frown.

"That companion cube, I suppose."

Doug glanced at the cube, his brow furrowed. "It's giving off an Aperture signal? I wasn't aware of that."

"You mean…we're trackable?" Chell snapped.

"I…I don't know," Wheatley stuttered, his optic shrinking in alarm in the face of her anger. "I think you can probably turn it off. I mean, y'know, if you take it apart and go digging around."

Doug let out an almost-silent sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. Chell felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how much the cube meant to him, and that he'd now be contemplating leaving it behind for the sake of safety. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

"We'll still take it," she soothed him. "It won't make any difference, and we got this far."

"How can you say it won't make any difference?" he murmured, meeting her gaze. "It…it must be."

"It won't make any difference because if the cube is trackable then Wheatley certainly is, so we might as well take it with us."

"What if she's been tracking us this whole time?" he whispered, a touch of wariness clouding his eyes.

"We'll deal with that later. Right now, we have bigger things to focus on. And like I said, we got this far."

He reluctantly nodded, offering her a small attempt at a smile. The water in the pan over the fire started to bubble, and Chell leaned forward to carefully pour it into their cups. She stirred their coffee and handed one to Doug, who accepted it gratefully and curled his hands around it.

"So, uh…what have you two been up to?" Wheatley asked awkwardly.

"Surviving," Chell answered him.

"Good. Good thing to do, the old surviving trick. I recommend it. You, uh, you've always been good at that."

Chell nodded wordlessly, scrutinising him. Wheatley held her gaze for a beat, then nervously directed his optic at the floor, no doubt remembering that her talent for surviving had been challenged by his actions.

They sat in relative silence, the two humans finishing up their breakfast, the edgy personality core making intense studies of the floor and ceiling. Eventually, they were done, packed up, and ready to move on. Chell carried Wheatley as they walked, unable to help smiling as he took in the sight of the landscape, his optic moving this way and that with quick shifts. She doubted he'd ever seen the outside world before, or remembered anything about it from his human counterpart. His childlike excitement at seeing everything was quite endearing. She recalled how he'd been when he'd replaced GLaDOS, how he'd reminded her of a drug addict. Despite her anger, she'd not been insensitive to that. That was the reason why she'd probably end up forgiving him eventually. It had given her more understanding into GLaDOS, after all.

A few days later saw them finally arrive at the small town where Gordon Freeman had settled. Chell and Doug had mutually agreed not to tell Wheatley anything about where they were going or what they were doing. They still didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance, and it had made them wary.

"We need to visit someone important," Chell told him sternly, lifting him up so he was on eye level with her. "I don't want you to say a word, understand? The last thing we want is for someone to take an interest in you that could lead them to Aperture."

"Okay," he assured her brightly. "No talking unless you say so. Got it."

Chell lowered her arms, unconvinced. Doug shot her a sceptical raised eyebrow, and she shrugged.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

He nodded after a brief moment of contemplation. "Yes. Let's get this done."

They approached the house, a wooden-slatted, one-level affair on the outskirts of the town. Its windows were dark, giving no sign of life within. Doug knocked sharply on the front door, then stepped back to wait.

"We need to make a good impression here," he said quietly. "We need to convince him."

"I know," Chell replied. "It will be okay."

She glanced down at Wheatley, who blinked his optic but said nothing.

There came the sound of footsteps behind the door, followed by a peculiar mechanical kind of noise. Then it opened, revealing a huge robotic…something that peered at them with a single red eye.

"Aaaarrrgggghh!" yelled Wheatley, which startled Chell more than the strange creature.

"Hey, hey, hey," she told him rapidly, "calm down, it's okay."

Doug stood his ground, his polite smile rather fixed. "Hi," he said to the young woman standing beside the robot.

"There's a thing!" Wheatley went on. "Why aren't you running? What else are those legs of yours for, you bloody stupid woman! Run!"

"Shut up!" Chell retorted, holding him up to eye level again. "Shut up right now or I swear to god, Wheatley, I will disconnect your vocaliser right this second!"

Wheatley fell into reluctant silence, his optic a pinprick of distress.

"Sorry about that," said Doug. "He's…excitable."

"Uh huh," the woman acknowledged. She didn't seem amused.

Chell studied her, taking in her short dark hair, pretty features, coffee skin and catlike hazel eyes. She exuded a well-balanced mix of toughness and vulnerability, with the former currently in play. She stood with her arms folded, eyeing them all with open wariness. The robot simply stared at them, poised either to pounce or retreat depending on what order was given.

"We're looking for Gordon Freeman," Chell told her.

"What makes you think he'd be here?"

"You're Alyx Vance, aren't you?"

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Doug Rattmann," Doug spoke up. "My niece, Angela Willen, gave us this address. She worked with Gordon a few years ago."

Alyx's eyes registered surprise as she heard the names. "Angela has no family but her mother," she said coldly.

"My sister thought I was dead until recently. There was…some confusion during the war."

"And you?" Alyx asked Chell.

"I'm Chell. I'm…um…" She glanced at Doug, trying to find a name for what they were to each other. "I'm…we're together."

Alyx's gaze switched between the two of them before settling on Wheatley. "What's with the excitable metal ball?"

"Oy!" said Wheatley.

"He's just a robot thing," Chell explained vaguely. "A…personality core. He's not important."

"Oy!" said Wheatley again, sounding a touch more incredulous.

"Quiet."

Doug cleared his throat. "We need to talk to Gordon, if he's here. It's important. It regards the Borealis."

Alyx seemed uncertain for the first time, losing a little of her hostility. "Angela told you about that?"

"Yes. She's been working for Dr. Kleiner in New Mexico."

"Kleiner's in New Mexico? Why?"

"It's where his lab is," Doug explained. "And it's where the ship is."

Alyx shot them a frown. "He destroyed the ship."

Doug shook his head, mouth set in a grim line. "No, he didn't. We've come to fix that."

Alyx's eyes widened as she considered the implications of what he was saying. "He…he didn't…" She sighed heavily, wearily. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised," she muttered. Beside her, the robot made a faint whining sound, and she absently patted its side. Glancing up at them again, she sent them a curious look. "No offence, but why should you care?" she asked. "How do you even know what the ship does? Nobody really knows that."

"We know because we worked for Aperture," Chell put in. "We're the only two employees left. And the Borealis is our mess to clean up."

Wheatley shifted to look up at her, optic wide in apparent surprise.

"We were hoping that Gordon would join us if we go and try and talk to Kleiner," Doug said. "I understand they were good friends."

"They were, but they haven't talked in years," Alyx said with a frown. "If Kleiner didn't listen the first time what makes you think he'll listen now?"

"Nothing," Doug admitted. "But we hoped that Gordon's presence would help smooth things over when we destroy the ship anyway."

"Gordon's retired," she told him. "He doesn't get involved in that stuff anymore. After everything he did for the resistance, he deserves to be left alone."

"I'm sure he does," Doug said diplomatically, "but we thought there was no harm in asking. Or at least making him aware of what was going on. Angela said she thought he'd want to know."

Alyx hesitated, looking indecisive. Then a figure appeared behind her, emerging from the shadows behind the door.

"Yes," Gordon Freeman said, "I'd want to know."

A/N: Apologies to those who prefer mute Gordon. I've always imagined that he can speak.