The Acclimation

Chell and Wheatley—or whatever he is now—exited Athena's home, and were now traversing the worn dirt road, colored orange by the slow set of the sun. Wheatley was very slow at first, having to look at his feet and place each step cohesively with the last to remain upright, but he was forced to speed up his pace by Chell's swift gate.

"Oi, uh, would you mind slowing down? Just a little bit, yeah. No? Right, no worries then, uh," Wheatley did his best to quicken his pace, exchanging glances from her to his feet, "yeah, I'll just try to catch up. But, but would you? Because that'd be great. Not saying you have to! It's, it's just a suggestion. Friendly suggestion."

He offered a weak smile to Chell, only to see she wasn't looking at him. She did slow her walk, though barely noticeable. By some unseen force, Wheatley was actually able to catch up.

"Y'know, I never really expected it to be so difficult to walk. Just walking! Seems simple, really. Once you actually get a human body though, that's an entirely different story! I mean–"

His foot caught on a stone, which he seemed to have a particular knack at, and stumbled, clinging to the only thing near him. Chell jolted backwards a step without her permission, hands grasping each of her shoulders. Wheatley let out a brief sigh of relief, only to realize what exactly he grabbed onto. With a yelp he staggered backwards, staring in her glaring eyes with terror.

"Sorry! You, you see I tripped. On that stone there." He pointed to the ground, only now noticing how many rocks and pebbles there were. "Well, I can't point out which, um. I would've fallen flat on my face if I hadn't done that! Still sorry, of course."

He chuckled sheepishly; his hand drawn tight to his sides. Chell took a breath through her nose, regulating her anger. She turned away from him and continued onwards. Wheatley swallowed nervously and traced her path, looking at nothing but the ground to make sure he didn't falter again.

—

The mismatched pair arrived at Chell's abode; it was a two-story home, fairly rustic and worn in the outer look of the building. The front door was painted white, but the coating was chipping away to reveal a light blue hue.

Chell laid her hand on the doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open, one could tell it was a very practiced routine. A warmly lit space was displayed, illuminated by a fireplace—which was to Wheatley's dismay. Opposite of the source of light was a cozy pale green sofa, a coffee table sitting in front of the seating held a neatly stacked pile of books and an empty coffee mug.

She entered the living space, Wheatley trailed behind warily, his loose curls grazing the top of the doorframe. Chell turned around to face him, nodded to the couch as a signal to sit.

"Do you, is that a, are you telling me to sit down? There? Yeah, 'course. I don't see why not. It isn't booby-trapped, is it?" He chuckled weakly, unlike Chell, who maintained a deadpan expression. "Right, no, not uh. Okay, yup, sitting."

He let his legs give out and he fell back into the comfy seat, giving way to a heavy sigh. Wheatley's eyes lit up a little and he examined his current seating choice.

"Oh, this is, this is quite cozy, isn't it? Yeah! I didn't expect that." He spoke in a content manner, an uneven grin on his face.

Chell retreated into the kitchen, which was currently to the left of him. She opened the door to the relatively small refrigerator and took out a few thin paper packages. Placing those on the counter. Her motions were swift and calculated, she had amazing coordination skills. Wheatley noticed this as well, admiring every move she made. She was the same way when she was back in that facility, and he admired her then too, peeking out from behind panels, keeping track of her and making sure she was doing well enough in GLaDOS' clutches.

His thoughts were disturbed by the placing of a plate on the coffee table in front of him, holding a sandwich with cinched edges and, after placing the plate, a glass of water beside it. Wheatley stared at the contents in front of him.

"What, what do you want me to do with this? I mean, yes, I get that I have to, um, consume it. But do I have to? I don't want to put that in my mouth."

She stood in front of Wheatley, peering down at him. Her arms remained stagnant by her sides—her heels lifted ever so slightly off of the hardwood floor due to the long period of time she was equipped with those modified boots. She remained waiting, her face unreadable.

"Have I got to? Really? It doesn't look very appetizing, does it? Not that you're bad at making food! That's not what I'm trying to say here, um." He sighed and threw his head back in defeat. "Right, fine, I'll eat it."

Wheatley gingerly lifted the sandwich off of the dish with two hands, eyeing the food suspiciously. He screwed his eyes shut and took a mediocre bite, reluctant to chew the food. Once done, he did so very slowly and cautiously, slowly reopening his eyes. His face untwisted into something less wary and picked up the pace chewing, one could assume that he figured out it was good food.

"Oh, that's, that's really good," he chuckled out the words with a half-full mouth, "not bad at all!" He swallowed, already moving in for another bite.

—

Wheatley had finished eating and Chell had collected his dishes, temporarily storing them in the sink. She exited the kitchen, nodded to the side at Wheatley, signaling for him to get up off the sofa and follow her. He promptly sat up and shifted his mass to a stand, albeit wobbly, and followed her.

"Oh, where are we going? Exploring your home, a tour? Fun! Ah, have I got a room? My own room? Oh, that'd be fantastic, really. If I don't though I totally get it. I mean, I'm sure you wouldn't be expecting some bloke to have a nice little stay in your house." Wheatley chuckled dryly, clearing his throat when there was no response, which was to be expected.

She led him up the stairs, and he nearly successfully conquered the ascent aside from the two trips. No harm done. Chell stood once on the second floor, which was a fairly small hallway, two doors on either side of her.

"Ooh, can I go in? Have a little expedition?" He spoke eagerly, rubbing his hands together. He was replied to with a strong glare from the woman.

"Ah. I'm taking that as a hard 'no', yeah? Hm, figured. Understandable! I wouldn't want someone prodding through my stuff either. Alright, noted, do not enter these rooms."

Chell nodded and descended the steps, Wheatley hesitantly following, careful not to trip down the stairs. That would end in disaster. So, he heavily relied on the railing, the wood creaking under his weight.

Chell, now off of the staircase and into the hallway below it, stood by a door which she opened. He had caught up with her and peered into the room, not stepping in only because he didn't want to get pummeled.

"Oh, that's a nice little bedroom. Whose it for?"

She splayed her hand into the room, gesturing for him to enter. His eyes widened and he stared at her in disbelief.

"Me? Really? Oh, this is tremendous! I get my own bedroom, thank you!" He smiled widely, taking a step into the room. Chell began to walk away as he did so, but he stopped at the threshold, so she stopped, quizzically observing him.

Wheatley turned to face her; a look of sorrow haunted his face as he looked her in the eyes. He shifted from foot to foot and swallowed, finally letting out a sigh.

"Listen, um. There's something I've been wanting to say to you for quite a while now, I feel that it's fairly important, um." He took a deep breath, fidgeting with his fingers in front of him. "I'm sorry, truly. I'm sorry I was bossy, and monstrous—and I am genuinely sorry."

She bored into his nervous gaze, making no sound or movement whatsoever. Wheatley felt his nerves growing stronger.

"I really didn't mean any of it, honest! I wish I could take it all back. This isn't me trying to make excuses either. I really do wish I could take it all back!"

He raised his inflection; a pleading look in his eyes. Chell continued to stare blankly. After a moment of silence, she turned and began to walk up the stairs.

"Well, well wait a second! Hold on! You can't just leave me like that, you've gotta give me something!"

She stopped, turned her head to look at him, and resumed her course. He scoffed, not out of resentment or irritation, but at himself in disbelief. Honestly, did he really think that was going to work? He rubbed his face with his hands, muttering incoherent regrets and concerns. He removed his hands and took a deep breath, dragging his feet into the bedroom, and dropped himself onto the bed.

At least an hour had passed, and he'd been unable to get any rest, too busy pondering over what damage he had done, if any.

A strange noise made him jolt up, eyeing the ajar door to his bedroom. He didn't see anything at first, and it was completely silent. Eventually, the disturbance decided to show itself. A silhouette of a four-legged creature loomed in the hallway, a low growl emanating from its maw, its eyes reflecting an orange glow. Claws could be heard dragging on the wooden floor, slowly approaching Wheatley's room, leaving him horrified. One menacing step after another, and a creak from a pushed door, one thing was for certain.

It was in his room.