Chapter Text
The wheat field that surrounds Aperture’s shack isn’t as large as it seems. A few miles in either direction, although Chell has yet to see what lies to the south. East, though, she knows there’s a river that feeds a strip of forest. There’s a copse of trees that encroach into the wheat field that Chell had found in her first foray above the facility. It’s as pleasant a spot to stop in as any. There’s a log that Chell likes to sit on and take a drink of water while she absorbs the scenery.
The rustle of leaves in the wind and the smell of growth and decay are things that Chell couldn’t remember consciously missing, but now that she’s acquainted herself with them again, she can’t fathom living her life without them.
There are crows somewhere in the distance, cawing and cackling to each other. From her tree cover, Chell sees little bugs flitting in and out of the dappled sunlight. She sighs contentedly through her nose. There’s a twang in her chest she’s growing accustomed to.
It’s not loneliness per se, but it’s definitely not the euphoria and determination she felt all those months ago when she finally escaped. Her wanderings then didn’t lead far as the crow flies, just a few miles out where she’d come across a clean-looking river. Washing the remains of repulsion gel and portal gel from her hair, scrubbing the dirt and dust from under her nails, her skin; it was heaven. Her body had myriad scars that were new to her. Her reflection in the rippling water was strange to her eyes, but she didn’t have much frame of reference anyway. Chunks of everything that had happened over her lifetime were probably gone for good. Her strongest, clearest memories were all of Aperture. Bitterness and a strange sense of pity were the only things she felt for the facility then. She was just happy to be out.
Out! In the sunshine and the wind and the grass! What a novelty. The smell and feel of the world, even now, fills Chell with elation.
The days wore on Chell back then; hunger was her constant companion. She couldn’t remember what plants were edible, so she tried to stay away from anything leafy at first. Fish were easily found along that river, and one lucky day she stumbled on a goose nest in the reeds by the shore. That had been a good day. She’d dug up some cattail roots to try and see how they fared with her meal of ash-roasted eggs and surprised herself at how delicious the young ones were even without cooking. Cattail roots were her staple food for a few days after that, following the river downstream in hopes of finding a town. She’d fashioned herself a woven shoulder sling from the reeds to carry her long fall boots (the heel braces of which she’d been using as a firestarter).
The first town she came across was a wash. The roads had long since disintegrated, the skeletons of buildings crumbling in the elements. It was more trees than buildings, and the burned out shells of cars overgrown with grass offered her nothing but the possibility of snakebites.
A few more days of following the river downstream met her with another wheat field. A small building could be seen in the distance. She hurried toward it.
It looked lived in, if not for the thick layer of dust accumulated over most of the surfaces. Whoever had called this place home seemed to have left in a hurry, but definitely within the last few years; some clothes strewn about, dirty dishes in the sink, back door unlocked. Whoever it was had done her a service at least. There was some canned food that looked alright when pried open, so she had herself a feast her first night there.
That little homestead served as a home base of sorts while Chell wandered the land for the next few months. She saw birds, deer, rodents, even bears on a few occasions. Each and every direction she picked, she was struck by just how lonely it all was. She considered herself antisocial on a good day (at least, that’s what felt right to say), but the emptiness ate at her. That homestead, cleaned up and rearranged to suit her, felt quieter and quieter each night she spent there trying to settle into a routine.
Chell wasn’t one to spend a long time deliberating. It was probably a character flaw, but it had served her well so far. Two days of sitting with sharp melancholy and she’d had enough. She gathered her essentials (not many more than when she started out) and followed the river back upstream until she found the stretch of sandy bank she camped at all that time ago. Turning due west, she entered the dead grey wheat field with the nip of encroaching winter on her heels.
What would GLaDOS say? Would she turn her out immediately or just shoot her and leave her for the crows? What would she think of Chell, coming back well groomed, muscled, and tanned from the sun? Would she even recognize her? She’d long since ditched her jumpsuit and tank top for some well worn canvas pants and a plaid shirt she pilfered from the homestead. Maybe she should’ve brought her Aperture clothes back, if only for the excuse that she was returning them.
Maybe GLaDOS would be happy to see her. She could barely entertain the thought as worse and worse scenarios swirled around her head the closer she got to the little shack. She saw it in the distance then, slowly getting larger with each step.
Maybe this was a bad idea. She’d been so adamant about leaving. She’d clawed her way back to the surface for a reason. She didn’t want to be a prisoner again. She didn’t want to be a test subject again.
This train of thought felt like ice on the back of her neck. Her steps slowed. The shack was only a few hundred feet away then.
What was she doing here?
What did she expect to happen? GLaDOS would welcome her back with open arms? Take her in as what? A companion? A peer? A pet?
Chell thought hard for a while. She took off her pack and sat down cross-legged.
Point one: GLaDOS’ last goodbye had been a pretty explicit message to not come back. Point two: GLaDOS had pulled her by the wrist back from the moon. Point three: She had made a point of not signing a word to GLaDOS in all the time she’d spent in her company. Entirely out of spite. Point four: GLaDOS had sang her a song as she left. She had a sneaking suspicion that GLaDOS had a soft spot for her. And Chell, for all the indifference she displayed outwardly, found her one-sided banter endearing after a while.
Endearing enough to travel all the way back here from her little home base.
The longer she thought about it, the more she realized she’d need to lay down ground rules, provided she didn’t get pumped full of bullet holes the moment she stepped into the elevator. She’d have to break her silence if she wanted any progress with GLaDOS.
Metaphorically, that is. Her vocal chords were still just as useless as they always were. She could make huffs, click her tongue, and croak a little, but the path from her brain to her mouth was barred just as tightly as she could remember it ever being. She hoped desperately that GLaDOS could interpret ASL.
She mulled over her ground rules as she sat there, chewing on her lip.
Point one: No more testing. Point two: Chell could leave whenever she felt like it. Point three: …Hm. She wasn’t sure what more she needed to say. There was a lot riding on the narrow chance that GLaDOS wouldn’t kill her, but she felt confident enough to take that chance.
She shouldered her bag again and crossed the distance to the shack. The corrugated metal door was locked tightly, so she just… Knocked.
And waited.