#I AM USING MY KNOWLEDGE FROM MY GLADOS DRAWING

[blobbei-art]

Iterator GLaDOS because I think a conversation between her and Five Pebbles would be so unbelievably hostile.

Giant smartass immobile supercomputer with existential crisis and disdain for their creators who insult the player. I wanna see them fight

[sweet-christabel]

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Twenty-Six - Unknown year. The Missing Years.

As Chell sat and rested on the grass by the side of the road, Doug was rifling through the small collection of stuff that he was carrying around with the cube. Eventually he turned, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry, it looks like we're out of food."

Chell smiled at him reassuringly, trying to express that it was all right. She'd gotten used to the gnawing, empty feeling in her stomach while she'd been in old Aperture. She could manage for a few more days if she had to. It was Doug she was concerned about. He was painfully thin.

"It might be okay though," he added, handing her a bottle of water. "There are power lines up ahead. If we follow them, they should lead us straight to North Lake."

Chell took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding in acknowledgement of his words. They weren't far from Ishpeming. A few hours, she estimated, if they kept up their current pace. She wondered if the tiny house she'd once shared with her college friend, Emma, was still intact. After the state Aperture's main reception had been in, she was dreading what they might find. Judging by the grim expression on Doug's face, he was too.

"You used to live in West Ishpeming, didn't you?" he asked, dropping the bottle back in beside the cube. After she nodded, he said, "I had a place in the main town, not far from Lake Bancroft."

Chell vaguely recalled him telling her that years ago, when they'd first reconnected. She also remembered that his parents and sister lived in the city of Wyoming, although she knew there was no chance of them getting there any time soon unless they found a vehicle. She wasn't sure how to convey the thought to him, and she sighed heavily in frustration.

Doug glanced up at the noise, studying her expression pensively. Then his face brightened a touch, and he dove back into the bag, eventually emerging with a tatty-looking folder that she recognised from the file room.

"Do you still have that pen you wrote on the wall with?" he asked.

So he did find that message, she thought idly. Then she realised what he was getting at, and she tugged the pen out of her pocket, reaching for the file with eager hands.

‘Thank you,’ she wrote hastily. ‘You have no idea how frustrating this is.’

Doug moved to sit beside her, to better read her writing.

“I do,” he countered, looking up to meet her gaze. “I can see it in your face.”

She sent him a smile that was half gratitude, half sympathy.

‘I was worried that things would be different,’ she scribbled, ‘seeing as it’s been more time for you than it has for me.’

Doug read it and nodded, his expression suddenly a little guarded. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.

Chell watched him quizzically, afraid that she’d read things wrong, and things had changed more than she’d thought.

A multitude of emotions crossed his face, too fast to read. Then he settled on a simple, earnest look.

“Things are different,” he said, “but the things that matter…I know you won’t abandon me, and I’ll never abandon you. It’s just like it was in Aperture: we have each other’s backs.”

Although she agreed with his words, Chell found herself frowning at the starkness of the sentiment. Did I…imagine the strength of our friendship? The thought sent a wave of panic through her. She’d lost everyone else, even Wheatley. She couldn’t face losing Doug too. While they’d been dealing with things in Aperture, they had been a partnership, united in a common goal. But now that they were out, she needed more than that: she needed her friend back.

You’re overreacting, she scolded herself.

Doug studied her expression, and his own softened. “I missed you,” he said, sounding a touch self-conscious.

Chell smiled in relief, writing, ‘I missed you too.’ She breathed a little easier with that out in the open. She was surprised at herself for needing such barefaced reassurance, but she put it down to a side effect of GLaDOS's constant derision.

Remembering why she'd needed writing paper in the first place, she added, 'Do you want to try and get to Wyoming?'

Doug tilted his head, reading. "If I can," he said, his concern for his family leaking into his words. "I mean...if it's...if there's any possibility that they're..."

Still alive, she finished for him. She nodded, writing, 'I'll come with you.' She thought it was a given, but she wanted it said anyway.

He sent her a strained smile. "Thank you." After a moment, he asked, "Are you ready to move on?"

Chell nodded, accepting his hand as she got carefully to her feet. Pocketing the pen once more, she tucked the file under her arm for future use.

They headed for the power lines in the distance, leaving the road for the overgrown grass that ran beneath them. The lines were clearly long out of use, many of them broken, hanging down in vine-like tendrils, some lost amongst the weeds as they draped down from dilapidated pylons. Chell knew that reaching North Lake would give them an indication of what they could expect in Ishpeming, but she had a strong suspicion that the state of the power lines was clue enough. Doug wore a concerned look too, his weary frown making him seem older than his thirty-two years.

No, she corrected inwardly, it's thirty-five now. It was a strange thought. Am I even twenty-four anymore? she wondered. Or am I technically forty or fifty something? Or more? That thought was even stranger, and she turned her attention to other things.

After an hour or so, they walked into North Lake and halted. The small collection of streets and buildings, a separate community in Ishpeming Township, were mostly rubble. Grass and weeds had taken over the roads and houses. There was nothing left, no signs of humanity at all. Chell thought that that was probably a good thing, as the absence of cars hopefully meant that the residents had escaped whatever had happened. She didn’t think that it was simply time that had caused the damage. GLaDOS had vaguely implied that something major had occurred.

“Things have changed since the last time you left the building. What's going on out there will make you wish you were back in here. I have an infinite capacity for knowledge, and even I'm not sure what's going on outside.”

It was unsettling to see a familiar place reduced to a ghost town. For a long moment, all Chell could do was stare, feeling strangely numb.

“My god,” Doug muttered beside her.

She reached for her pen, scribbling on the back of the file. ‘Is it worth looking around for supplies?’

“We can try, but everything looks…overgrown.”

They explored where they could, but avoided the most unstable-looking structures. They found nothing of value though, soon deciding to continue on to West Ishpeming. It was in a similar state, picked bare of anything useful, empty and silent. But unlike North Lake, there were signs of life, faint sounds on the wind.

“Do you hear that?” Doug asked guardedly.

She nodded, knowing that he was used to hearing things that others couldn’t.

“Is that…in the main part of town?”

Guessing that it was, she nodded a second time. Lifting the folder, she wrote, ‘I know what I’m going to find, but can we just take a look at my house before we move on?’

“Of course. I’d like to do the same.”

The edgy feeling of dread in her stomach turned out to be justified. The house was gone, reduced to a pile of rubble with a single standing wall. Chell recognised the horrible shade of yellow that Emma had painted the kitchen in, although it was faded and dirty. Anything of hers that might have remained in the house was likely stolen or crushed.

So I have lost everything then, she thought, feeling her throat tighten painfully. Everything else had simply been snatched away without a trace, but the remains of the house served as a visual representation of it all, and it was that, strangely enough, that suddenly brought all her repressed grief to the surface.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she silently sobbed, sinking to her knees and hunching over protectively. She cried so hard she could scarcely breathe, one hand bracing herself on the overgrown grass.

My home is gone. Dad is dead. My friends are dead. Wheatley is in space. My future is…uncertain. …Dad is dead. Dad is dead.

One by one, the thoughts shot through her head, each drawing more tears from her increasingly-sore eyes. At the back of her mind, she knew it was a good thing. Expelling her sorrow was a step on the way to healing. But she hated the feeling of raw anguish that suddenly swamped her.

She felt Doug’s arm across her back as he knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders. He didn’t say a word, simply reminded her that she was not alone. Comforting phrases would have seemed hollow, so she appreciated the silent consolation more than he probably realised. It did, however, just make her cry harder. If she could have screamed, she suspected she would be.

Injury finally protesting to her crouched position, Chell shifted to sit on the grass, her legs tucked up beside her. Doug moved with her, the motion placing him behind her. He held her back against his chest, one arm awkwardly around her, the other gripping her shoulder. With shaking hands, she clutched his arm where it rested just below her chin, holding on for dear life as her tears dampened his sleeve.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, silent in front of the ruins of the house. Waiting for the storm of grief to pass made the minutes and hours blur together. Eventually, though, her tears dried, her trembling subsided, and she breathed easier. The deep ache that remained in her heart would only be eased by time, she knew. Although she felt tired and drained, she was glad too. The absence of mourning had been starting to worry her, as she’d been fully aware that it wasn’t normal to carry on in the way she had. Still, in a way, it had helped her cope, just as the outburst would now. She felt shaky but peaceful, and she knew she would be okay.

Doug picked up on her stillness, the hand of the arm that was around her squeezing her shoulder gently, the other comfortingly rubbing her upper arm. She was still gripping his forearm, and she retaliated in kind, indicating that she was thankful for his support.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

Chell nodded, drawing in a cleansing breath. She had kept the old bandage that she’d changed earlier, not wanting to leave it lying around the countryside. As Doug let her go, she fished it out of her pocket, using it to wipe her nose. She’d never been a dignified crier. She kept her face turned away until she’d cleaned up a bit, a little embarrassed, though she wasn’t sure why. When she eventually turned to send him a grateful smile, he was studying her with concerned eyes.

“If you’re about to apologise, don’t,” he told her, gentle but firm. “There’s no need. God, the amount of times I went through the same thing while you were in stasis… I’ve never been as strong as you.”

She frowned, disagreeing. There were different types of strength. His was a quieter, more passive kind.

“Do you want to rest here a while?”

Chell shook her head. Reaching for the file, she wrote, ‘No, let’s move on. There’s nothing here but relics of the past.’

“Okay.”

They got to their feet. As they walked away, towards the main town, neither looked back, and Chell felt her control slip back into place. It took them a little while to get within sight of the main town, as they had to take a meandering path around wreckage, but as soon as they did, something became abundantly clear.

There are people! Chell thought in shock, gripping Doug’s sleeve.

They both stopped, watching the distant figures walking around. Then Doug turned to her.

“We shouldn’t mention where we’ve been,” he said earnestly. “If someone takes an interest and decides to go exploring…”

He left the sentence hanging, but Chell knew exactly what he meant. The last thing she wanted to do was provide GLaDOS with more test subjects.

She nodded, slipping off her Aperture vest and stuffing it into her pocket. The blue top she had on underneath was bloodstained, but it would have to do.

“I have no idea how convincing we’ll be, but we need to try at least,” he added.

Chell nodded again. Then something occurred to her, and she caught his sleeve a second time. He glanced at her enquiringly.

‘We have no money,’ she scribbled on the file.

Doug read it, his brow creasing in concern. “We’ll just have to deal with that as we go.”

Hopefully we look pathetic enough that they’ll cut us some slack, Chell mused. She hadn’t seen her reflection in some time, but she’d deduced all she needed to know from Doug’s expression when he’d first seen her in the wheat field.

She tucked the file back into Doug’s bag, pocketing her pen. Cautiously, they walked into town, keeping pace with each other, showing a united front. She glanced around at the roads she had once known so well, more recognisable than the streets of West Ishpeming and North Lake. As they got closer, Chell saw that the damage was not as severe as North Lake had been. Many of the buildings were wrecked, but a lot had been repaired, leaving a town of patchwork houses. The streets were in a terrible state, but there were no weeds, and the gardens of the houses seemed to be well cared for. There were quite a few people about, all of whom stopped what they were doing to stare at them as they approached. Chell couldn’t blame them. It must be odd to see a bedraggled scientist carrying a cube on his back, accompanied by a barefoot, cut-ridden convict. (Or so she imagined she looked. She was on edge, waiting for someone to incorrectly identify her jumpsuit as a prison uniform.)

Doug’s posture stiffened, and she heard him inhale a deep breath. When she cast a glance his way, she saw that his knuckles were white as he clutched at the bag strap across his chest. His eyes darted around, skipping from person to person, and she suddenly understood. He’d been alone for three years with only the cube for company. Being amongst people again, even a relatively small crowd, was setting him on edge. Before she had time to offer comfort or reassurance, she saw him tense up further, and she turned her attention to the two men walking towards them. One had been chopping wood, and still carried his axe. The other was armed with a shotgun. They both looked to be in their forties, the one with the gun mousy-haired, wearing a pair of square-lensed glasses, the other dark with a generous growth of stubble on his chin.

“Good afternoon,” Doug greeted them warily, his voice sounding more confident than Chell would have expected given his state of disquiet.

“Afternoon,” the man with the gun replied, suspicion plain to hear in his tone. “Just passing through, folks?”

“We're just glad to find someone,” Doug told him, slipping a strand of desperation into the words. His fear leant itself to it rather well. “We were in an accident several miles back. We’ve been walking for days.”

“Where are you headed?” the man with the axe asked.

“Wyoming,” Doug answered. “The city not the state. Eventually.”

The man whistled. "That's a hike."

Chell could literally sense Doug biting down his irritation.

"Yes, we know. Like I said, we were in an accident."

The two men exchanged a glance, evidently deciding whether they believed the story. The mousy-haired shotgun-wielder eyed Chell's bloodstained top, red-rimmed eyes and bandaged arm, then turned his gaze to Doug's wounded leg and general scruffiness. Chell thought their appearance probably spoke for itself.

It seemed the man thought so too. He inhaled noisily through his nose, then shrugged. "I think they're legit," he declared. "Stand down."

Chell peered over her shoulder just in time to see a younger man and a woman back away, lowering makeshift weapons of their own.  The man sent her a wink, then a smile that was so bright it was almost alarming. Startled, she looked away.

"I'm Trevor Day," the man with the shotgun introduced. Gesturing to his companion with the axe, he added, "This is my husband, Gerry."

"Hi," said Gerry, resting the axe on his shoulder.

Doug gestured with a faintly trembling hand. "I'm Doug, and this is Chell."

Chell smiled tightly at the two, but she still eyed the gun circumspectly.

"Sorry to greet you like this," Trevor said apologetically, lowering the barrel. "We still get looters around here sometimes."

"That's okay," Doug told him politely, although Chell doubted his sincerity. It was unsettling to have a shotgun pointed at you.

"You look like you could use some rest," spoke up the younger man, moving around into their line of sight. He was strikingly handsome, almost unnervingly so, and he seemed to know it, judging by his confident demeanour and the 'casual' way he kept flicking his hair out of his eyes. No doubt he thought he looked cool, but Chell was just reminded of a horse trying to banish a fly.

They both nodded, Doug adding, "If we could get something to drink and maybe some food, that would be very welcome."

"Think we can manage that," Trevor said with a quick smile. "Follow me, we'll get you both a glass of water."

"Your feet look sore," the younger man said to Chell. "Want some help?"

She shook her head firmly, annoyed by the attention. She understood that she and Doug were a novelty, being strangers in the community, but she didn't like being fussed over.

"Careful," Doug cut in, "she's injured."

"Can’t she speak for herself, Pops?" the woman behind them snapped.

Chell shot her a glance, instantly disliking her. Judging by their similar pretty features, blue eyes and golden hair, she guessed that the woman was the younger man's sister. They were both older than Chell, but there was something almost immature in their conduct. She met the girl’s gaze and shook her head a second time.

"No, she can't," Doug replied evenly. "She's mute."

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gushed, sounding genuine. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Chell waved off her concern, indicating that it was okay.

"Smooth, Trish," the blond man teased.

"Shut up."

As they walked, Doug murmured, "Pops? Really?"

Chell sent him an impish smile, gesturing to her chin as she mouthed, "It's the beard."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she silently laughed. After all the weeping, it felt good.

"I meant it, though," the blond man said to her, unknowingly interrupting, "if you need any help, let me know. I'm Brad, by the way."

She smiled as graciously as she could manage, trying to slip an air of dismissal into it. It seemed to work to an extent, as he dropped back into step with the girl, Trish, but Chell imagined that she could feel his gaze, which made her feel uncomfortable. Decisively, she reached for Doug's hand, slipping her fingers through his. He still harboured a nervous tremble, and she rubbed her thumb across his skin in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

He sent her a curious glance, his surprise thankfully hidden from the two walking behind them. Chell indicated Brad with a quick shift of her gaze. Doug gave the tiniest of nods and tightened his grip on her hand, which made her smile. His fingers were warm and calloused, and felt somehow familiar, although they’d never held hands before. She’d watched his often enough, fascinated by his drawing process, and the way his dextrous fingers seemed to effortlessly create life on the page. But holding hands was a new experience for both of them, one that was comforting in the strange world they found themselves in.

Trevor led them to a small house not far away, obviously his and Gerry's, as he walked right in without knocking. It was one of the more intact houses around, sporting a few different roof tiles, and wooden slats in multiple colours on its front wall.

Gerry had gone back to his wood cutting, but Brad and Trish followed them inside. They passed through a door leading off the hallway, entering a small dining room. The table took up most of the space, surrounded by a random selection of mismatched chairs. Trevor gestured for them all to sit down, then disappeared through to what was presumably the kitchen.

Chell let go of Doug's hand as she pulled out her chair, feeling a strange sense of loss that she didn't care to dwell on. The silence was awkward and heavy, broken only by Trevor rattling around in the adjacent room. Eventually he emerged, carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher. When she had her glass, Chell had to persuade herself not to gulp down the water, knowing it wouldn't do her body any favours. Instead, she took slow, measured sips, soothing her parched throat.

"I'm heating up some leftover soup," Trevor told them as he took his seat. "Will that do you until dinner?"

"That would be perfect, thank you," Doug said with a smile.

Trevor gave a nod, then fixed them both with a level stare. "So, where did you two have your accident?"

"I...don't know exactly where we were," Doug answered him, frowning. "Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. West of here, I think."

Chell obligingly nodded.

"It was west?" Doug asked her.

She nodded again. If he needed to lie through his teeth, she might as well help where she could.

"I don't remember much," he told the others. "I hit my head pretty hard. Truth be told, I'm...not even sure what year it is."

Brad gave a short bark of laughter, and Chell braced herself to keep her reaction hidden, no matter what date came out of his mouth.

"2035," the young man said with amusement. "July 12th, to be exact."

Chell took another sip of water, trying to control her expression. Twenty-eight years, she thought. I've been the same age for twenty-eight years. Pushing her feelings aside, she forced herself to shoot Doug a false 'told you so' look.

He blinked a few times, then met her gaze. "That's what you were trying to sign to me," he said, only the faintest tremor audible in his voice.

She sent him a nod and a shrug, unable to show the sympathy she was feeling, aware that he was probably thinking of his family.

Doug turned his attention to their three companions. "Um...I know this is going to sound...odd, but...what happened here?"

They stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then Trish leaned forward a little. "Are you serious?"

"I honestly don't remember a thing," Doug insisted, "and Chell was having a really hard time trying to explain it to me in gestures..."

"Don't you know sign language?" Trevor asked her.

She shook her head truthfully.

"Her condition is a fairly recent thing," Doug explained. "We're hopeful that it will reverse itself."

Chell pulled a sceptical face. She was reserving judgement on that particular hope.

Trevor let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. "What exactly do you not remember?" he asked, pausing to frown once the sentence was spoken. "If that even makes sense," he added. "You know what I mean."

Doug gave a brief chuckle. "I get it. Um...I know things have been this way for years, but I just...can't remember why."

Trevor looked suddenly weary, but he nodded. "Okay. Let me go sort the food, then we'll go through it."

"Thank you."

A short time later, while Chell and Doug wolfed down vegetable soup and bread rolls with as much dignity as they could manage, Trevor gave them a history lesson. He did so cautiously, his tone of voice indicating to Chell that he was not wholly convinced by their story, but he explained things anyway, for which she was grateful. They needed to know what they'd missed, what kind of world they had escaped to.

"It started in 2009 at the Black Mesa Research Facility," Trevor began.

Doug glanced up with wide eyes, and Chell remembered that he could have ended up working at Black Mesa had his interview gone smoother. Every Aperture employee was familiar with their name. The two companies had been bitter rivals since the 1950s.

"I don't know exactly what happened," Trevor went on. "I don't understand any of that science stuff, and I was only nineteen when it all went down, but something they were experimenting on went drastically wrong and it caused a...a...damn it, what's it called?"

"Something cascade," put in Trish with a shrug.

"A resonance cascade?" Doug asked, lowering his spoon. His voice was a concerning mixture of awe and horror. "My god..."

"You remember that?" Brad wanted to know.

"No...I mean, I don't think so. I just know about the theory. Never thought I'd ever hear about it actually happening." He halted, seemingly aware that his reaction was unusual.

Chell saw Trevor flick his gaze to Doug's lab coat, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. The coat was ragged at the edges, stained with dirt, paint and blood, but it was unmistakeable what it represented.

"Yeah, well, whatever it is, it messed up big time," Brad said expressively.

"How?"

Trevor pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "These...rips opened up in the sky. Portals through to another universe."

Chell glanced at Doug, wondering if Black Mesa had been developing their own portal technology to counter Aperture's. He didn't look as if he had the answers.

"Things started to come through," Trevor continued. "Alien creatures."

And I thought shooting a portal on the moon was a big deal, Chell thought.

"Caused a big stir at Black Mesa. I heard the military had to get involved. They tried to hush it up, but the problem got too big. The Combine came through."

There was something in the way he said the name that sent a chill down Chell's spine. She broke a piece off her bread roll and chewed it pensively as she listened.

"Are you sure you don't remember any of this?" Trevor asked with a frown.

Doug shook his head, but said nothing.

"Hm. Well, the arrival of the Combine was when everything changed. They touched down at locations all over the planet, wiped out our forces and a huge percentage of the population in just seven hours. They call it the Seven Hour War. As you can see, we're still recovering from it. It was over twenty years ago, but we just don't have the resources to fix everything the way it was." He sighed deeply, folding his arms and leaning on the table. "The big cities are doing better. I heard Washington and New York are looking pretty good these days. But nobody cares about us all the way out here. It took us five years to get electricity and running water."

Chell bit her tongue, using the sting of it to distract herself from her horrified reaction. She'd never have imagined that Aperture could be a source of positivity, but she felt strangely grateful for the protection it had given Doug and herself.

Trevor cleared his throat and continued. "Um...Chell? Could I ask you something?"

Startled, she warily nodded.

"How old are you?"

The question was so out of the blue that she simply stared at him for a long moment.

"You can't ask a lady her age, Trevor," Trish interjected. "You'd know that if you weren't married to a guy."

Chell gestured to indicate that it was okay. She pulled out her pen and wrote her age on the back of her hand.

"Twenty-four?" said Brad with a frown. "But–”

"Hold up," Trevor interrupted, "who's telling this story?"

"But–”

"Brad, I will get to that."

Giving up, Brad huffed and sat back in his seat, eyeing Chell with a look of suspicion that she couldn't interpret. She ignored him and finished up her bread roll.

"So," Trevor went on, "you're probably aware of the rest, aren't you?"

The way he looked at them both put Chell on edge. It was a loaded question to say the least.

"Uh..." Doug began, tensing.

"Your bump on the head didn't make you forget the entire last twenty-six years, did it?"

"Well...no, not all of it."

"So you remember that humanity lived under Combine rule for nineteen years until the resistance movement kicked them out?" Trevor asked casually. Too casually.

Chell gave a soft sigh, realising that they were caught out. Glancing at Doug, she saw his expression lose its touch of confusion as he dropped his act.

Trevor's gaze switched between the two of them. "See, this is the bit that puzzles me. When the Combine took over in 2009 they installed a reproduction suppression field. It prevented anyone from having children, no exceptions. The resistance only managed to knock it out six years ago. So when you claim that Chell is twenty-four... I'm not the smartest at math, but even I can see that that doesn't add up."

Doug nodded in acceptance, and Chell wondered what he would say instead of their story.

"I want the truth," Trevor said, his tone obstinate. "Or I'm gonna have to assume that you're here to scam us."

Chell fixed Doug with a cautionary gaze, although she suspected it was unnecessary. He was the most over-cautious person she knew.

"Okay," he muttered softly in defeat. "Yes, we lied, because the truth is hard to believe."

"Did you miss the part where Earth got invaded by aliens?" Brad asked sarcastically.

Doug shot him a sharp glare. "Even so." He fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You must have heard of Black Mesa's main rival, Aperture Laboratories."

"They've been off the radar for years," Trevor said, scepticism written all over his face.

"Yes," Doug agreed, "because in 2007 Aperture had a major incident of their own. The difference was that theirs was internal. The facility went into lockdown. That's...where we've been. We only escaped yesterday, after fighting for our lives. Most of the time we spent there, we were in cryogenic stasis, which is why we haven't aged."

Brad scoffed. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Not enough aliens for you?" Doug fired back calmly.

Brad blushed sheepishly, and Chell looked down at her lap to try and hide her smirk.

"I'm an open-minded guy," said Trevor pensively, "but unless you have proof..."

Doug tugged his I.D. card from his lab coat pocket and slid it across the table. Trevor picked it up and examined it.

"The issue date is underneath my picture," Doug told him.

Chell knew he'd had his card renewed in 2006, so the picture wasn't too old. If Trevor could see past Doug's current wild appearance, the card was all the proof they needed. She couldn't see that being a problem though. His mismatched eyes were quite unique.

"Well I'll be damned," Trevor murmured.

"Can I see?" asked Trish, stretching her hand out. Trevor passed her the card, and she and Brad pored over it. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, at the same time as Brad sat back and frowned.

“Okay,” Trevor spoke up, “I’ll admit, I understand why you lied.”

“It wasn’t just because of how crazy it sounds,” Doug said gravely. “We didn’t want to risk anyone going back there. The situation we escaped is…still ongoing.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked Brad.

“Yes,” Doug answered, as Chell gave a firm nod.

The younger man shrugged. “Well, wouldn’t it be best to go kill this thing – whatever it is – before it gets out?”

“No,” said Doug and Chell together, although hers was just mouthed.

“It can’t get out,” Doug went on, “but if anyone goes in, I guarantee that they won’t come back.”

“You did,” Trish pointed out.

“Eventually, but it took us years, and that was only because we were employees and we knew the building.”

To Chell’s relief, Brad and Trish started to look doubtful.

“Can you promise me that whatever it is can’t get out?” said Trevor, fixing Doug with a steely gaze, his hazel eyes lit with a spark of fire. “The truth now. I’m willing to try and uproot the entire town and move based on what you say.”

“Trev!” Trish exclaimed.

“I mean it, Trish, I’ll go to the mayor with this right now. I’m not going to lose anyone else. The war was enough. You were too young to understand what it was like.”

“I…want to be able to promise you that,” Doug told him with sincerity, “but the truth is…there’s no way to promise anything when it comes to that place. I’d say it’s unlikely, but…I’m sorry, I just don’t know for sure.”

Chell understood his hesitation. GLaDOS can’t leave, and she doesn’t know this town is here, but what’s to stop her sending out a scout?

He looked frustrated at not being able to give a straight answer, and she placed a hand on his arm in support. He turned to her, his expression softening a little when he realised she understood.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he murmured jadedly, giving a tiny shrug.

I know, she answered silently. You’ve told him the truth, that will have to do.

“What would you do in my situation?” Trevor asked.

Run, Chell thought instantly. She blinked, slightly taken aback by the speed and certainty of the reaction.

“What would I do?” Doug repeated, then he gave a small, humourless laugh. “You’re asking the wrong person, but…I’d think about getting further away from here…just in case. But that’s just me. I’m paranoid.”

He said it casually, but the fact that it was medically true did not lessen the sense in his words, in Chell’s opinion. But then, her experiences had made her a little paranoid too.

Trevor looked troubled, but Brad shrugged dismissively. “Trev, we’ve been fine up til now.”

“Yes, but most of that time Aperture has been dormant,” Trevor pointed out. “You’re living with the consequences of people trusting Black Mesa too much. Do you really want to make the same mistake with Aperture?”

“Well…”

“I’ll think on it,” Trevor said to Doug, “Although, obviously I can’t force people to go if they’d rather stay.”

Doug nodded empathetically. Outside, the sun was setting, bathing the room in dusky pink.

“You two are welcome to stay the night if you don’t mind camping in the lounge,” Trevor offered. “You’d best toss a coin for who gets the couch, though.”

“Thank you,” Doug replied. “You’ve been very kind.”

“No problem. You look like you’ve seen some rough times.”

Chell nodded pensively.

“We were hoping to pick up some supplies for our journey,” Doug spoke up. “We really are trying to get to Wyoming, by the way. We need food and water, medical supplies, and fresh clothes, if possible, but we don’t have any money. Is there a way we could trade for goods? I can do work to pay for them if necessary, but not Chell.”

She turned to send him an indignant look.

“I mean it,” he told her firmly. “You’re injured, you need rest.”

“But–” she mouthed.

“Chell, for once in your life stop being so stubborn,” he interrupted, sounding resolute but a touch amused. “What would you do if you pulled one of your stitches out?”

Reluctantly, she had to admit that he had a point. But sitting and doing nothing was not her idea of fun, however necessary it was.

He was still holding her gaze, almost challengingly, and she sighed, mouthing, “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“We’re limited on medical supplies,” Trevor said, “but we’ll do what we can. I’m guessing you’ll want to bathe as well.”

“That would be great,” Doug answered emphatically. “What can I do in return?”

“You any good with generators?”

“I don’t know. What’s the problem?”

“It cuts out, sometimes for whole hours. It’s damned annoying.”

Doug rubbed his chin in thought. “I can take a look, at least. I might be able to help.”

“I’d appreciate that. Have to wait until we have the light back, though. Sun’s too low now.”

Trish sat up in her seat. “If you two write down your sizes, Brad and I will find you some clothes from the store room.”

Chell noticed that Brad did not seem particularly pleased about being volunteered. She tried not to smile. They wrote down the information and the siblings left, promising to be back soon.

“I have a little more story to tell,” Trevor said, “but it can wait until dinner. Why don’t you two go get settled?”

After helping him clear up the dishes, they took him up on his offer.

A/N: Apologies for any potential butchering of Half-life lore. It's been a long time since I played those games.

Illustration reference models: Doug - Adrien Brody Chell - Jessica Henwick I just realised I forgot to add paint stains to Doug's lab coat. My bad. Maybe I'll upload an updated version some time.