Work Text:
A drizzle of rain dotted the window, slowly trailing down the cold glass. Silent lightning tore into the ground miles away, disappearing as soon as it came.
Chell watched the storm go by, her throat dry as she turned to stare at her pillow. The lights were turned off, and the slightest hint of grey natural light shined into the room.
Her expression twisted into a jaw-clenched stare, her glare unforgiving and cold. She inhaled a shaky breath, holding it for a few seconds before forcefully letting it out in an angry heave.
Her solid, structured wall of emotions was collapsing; and with it would come all that powerful terror, grief, anger and loneliness. At this point she was silently--desperately--trying to rebuild it, brick by brick, as the stones crumbled into powder, but it was no use.
This barrier was what kept her alive. This barrier was what had kept her as sane as she could be in the facility, despite her solitude for years and years.
This barrier was every bit of sense and logic left in her, and it was the closest it had ever been to letting in the horrible tsunami of trauma and reflection unleashed outside. If she let out one more unstable concern--one more twinge of gut-stabbing realization--everything she had worked for would be gone.
She just needed to hold on a little longer. She needed to cling onto every slippery bit of will that drove her to keep holding this up, and it would all go away in a matter of time. She relentlessly scrambled for tiny bits and pieces of hope in her mind, through scattered piles of uselessness, for that one driving force.
And there she found it.
Chell sighed in relief, comforted by the thought of it...of him.
Wheatley: her loving, amazing boyfriend who was always there when she needed it. Who was clumsy and lovable and sweet and did his absolute best to help her in any problem, to find solutions she had immediately looked over and had used them, against all and any odds.
And he had wanted her to die under his control.
That was it. That was the breaking point. A sharp pain inside her rammed into Chell at full force, causing her to tense and gasp for air.
Her shelter was easily crushed under spike plates, swiftly pulverized until all that was left was a bare opening for the flooding: and flooded, it was. Crashing, horrific floods of hurt and hatred and loneliness forcibly plowed into Chell, her eyes blurring with tears.
Chell choked out a horrible sob, followed by another, and another--an almost inhuman sound she hadn't heard in ages. She clenched the sheets of her bed, an overwhelming sense of bitter pain crawling up her throat as strands of messy, dark brown hair draped over her face.
The sudden inundation was desperate, shoving every bad memory into her head as if her mind despised her for her denial of it all. Her brain flung memories of the facility at full force, silently willing those horrible thoughts to keep on coming.
Her brain wanted her to suffer, and that was the horrifying thing. Some twisted part of her wanted to sink further and further into depression and regret, and Chell could do absolutely nothing about it.
GladOS trying to kill her.
GladOS erasing Caroline as soon as she found her.
The permanent bruises, cuts and burns that refused to heal, even out of the facility.
The dirt that stayed relentlessly on her fingers and elbows and thighs, only starting to leave after months of being safe from the facility and of desperate scrubbing.
Bring your daughter to work day, and how horribly it went.
The tests she was forced to do, burning into her mind one by one after years of seeing them as a blur.
Wheatley turning against her. Her only friend, only sliver of humanity, sucked into a pit of selfishness and cruelty when he had the chance.
Wheatley trying to kill her, smugly suggesting she jumped into pits at his very word.
Wheatley showing up on a doorstep--as a human, no less--after she shot him into the empty vastness of space.
Chell felt her pain, her only raw sense of emotion, starting to slowly begin to ebb away as she swallowed a huge gasp of fresh air. Conciously, now, she shook her head, trying to will herself to continue and feel, for once in her life.
She hated this, all of it, but god damn it did it feel somewhat soothing to be so vulnerable for once. She broke into another sob, her breath becoming shallow once again as she felt, as she tried to dive further into the comforting, horrifying swell of emotions because she knew she deserved it-
And then she found her anchor.
She felt two ever-so-familiar arms firmly pull her into an embrace, as the warm, soft touch slid over her back and shoulders. She felt her heart pause for a moment as she realized what was happening, but when her breath came back to her it felt... different.
Easier.
"You're going to be okay, alright? You're- you're here, right now, with me, and you don't have to be afraid anymore." Wheatley murmured into her ear, a tremble running down her spine as she gripped him tighter. Chell had to be sure she could be brought back into reality, and he was the constant she craved.
She gulped, feeling the bitter, salty aftertaste of a cry slightly clear up. As easy as it was to sob, and to hurt, Wheatley was right. She couldn't keep it up forever.
A soft ripple of sadness washed over her, causing Chell to let out a heavy sigh. She opened her mouth to say something--anything--but her voice was sore and of no use, similar to how she felt after escaping into the wheat field.
What, instead, came out was an almost silent attempt at speech; a whisper of three voiceless words:
"I'm so sorry."
Wheatley tensed up in surprise, kindly pushing Chell away to look at her face to face. He wore a bittersweet smile, his eyes shining with sympathy and love. He shook his head, letting out a weak, somber chuckle.
"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, love. Not one thing."
"...Are you sure?"
"Trust me."
She gently felt herself smile in the same way, nodding as her hands making their way up to cup both of his cheeks. He looked surprised for a minute, before looking down with a timid, nervous glance.
Were they both scared of hurting each other? It wasn't an impossible thought, however unlikely it proved.
"Then...you too." She huffed, scooting closer to him to bring his face down and look her directly in the eyes. His cheeks seemed to heat up as he brought his hands down to her waist, letting out a small burst of nervous laughter.
She leaned up to kiss him as an ever-so-persistent feeling of giddy excitement bloomed in her chest, attempting to embrace the high levels of serotonin with ease. Still, her cheeks seemed to heat up and a huge smile grew on her lips as she realized the true nature of her emotions.
Chell was never, ever going to be able to rid herself of them... and that was surprisingly okay. She had him, and really, what made them so bad if he could help her through them?
After a few moments, Wheatley pulled away, straightening his glasses as he grinned a goofy smile in unison.
"I love you, dear. I can't even describe it, really, I just-I do. I really do." He shrugged, giving her a light kiss on the forehead.
She looked up at him as she let go of him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her eyes brimming with pure love and affection. She had never been this vulnerable with someone else before, and it was so... satisfying.
It was so refreshing to be able to be cared for, to be loved. Her survivor's instinct couldn't control her anymore, because she could thrive, and wow, was that a weight off her shoulders.
Chell was safe.
"I love you so much." She felt her weak voice catch in her throat, but willed it to continue as she beamed back at him. She brushed a few strands of brown hair behind her ears, watching him turn hesitant at her affection.
Wheatley's face fell, clearly still feeling guilty from the laboratory, despite all of the time that had past. He bit his nail, his eyes nervously quick to look away at a sense of doubt or fear.
"Even if I was bloody horrible to you?" His voice twisted with regret.
"We've changed." Her voice was calm, sure of what she said and the truth of it. It was a fact, plain and simple, and she had to know he felt it.
Wheatley sighed, nodding in response as his lips curved back into a gentle smile. He yawned, a sense of exhaustion creeping over his glance as he groggily blinked.
"Want to head to the couch? It's perfectly dry, love." He chuckled lightly at his joke, running his hand over the tear droplets that soaked over the sheets of the bed.
She let out a positive hum in response, taking his hand in hers as they left to get ready for bed, blinking back any other happy tears she could feel welling up.
Maybe they were each other's anchors.