Subject 3281; Chell's Story

There You Are

Chell's blood turned to ice in her veins.

It was Her.

"Please place your Aperture Science Handheld Portal Devices on the ground in front of you, and assume the Party Escort Submission Position, laying face-down on the floor with your hands above your heads."

Quick as a wink, before the turrets had time to fire, Chell collapsed—bringing Forrest down in front of her—made a split-second calculation, and chucked her yellow-striped portal gun at the head turret, who fell, taking the others down like bowling pins. The screaming of the turrets mixed with the spattering of gunshots made the girl want to get up and run for all she was worth, but she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and reminded herself that if she ran, she'd be shot. Don't move, or you'll be shot. Don't stand, or you'll be shot. Just wait it out; you've done this before, wait it out... wait it out...

After what seemed like an eternity—though she knew it could have been only ten seconds or less—the girl sat up, and shuddered. Those hateful things. Her adrenaline rush had started to wear off, and she was suddenly very aware of just how strange their situation was. Why would the scientists above—whether they were being ordered around by her birth father or not—want the two of them dead? They were apparently their star test subjects after all, if a bit unstable. And even if they wanted us dead, she thought, they could have killed us more efficiently; with gas, or fire, or something. Turrets make a lot of mess. And why have the robot— why have Her narrating their demise? Surely the AI's attention was needed elsewhere, so why—

"Oh," the sound of Her voice coming from a hidden speaker somewhere made Chell's heart skip a beat. "You survived." The girl looked up sharply, and saw a camera perched on the wall opposite herself and Forrest. So She can see us, she thought. Not entirely ideal.

"Congratulations," She continued, "was it worth it? I have to say though, I am surprised that you two made it this far. You may even—" She broke off. "Oh, it looks like you two haven't made it this far after all. Well, not where it counts, anyway."

A sickening jolt passed through Chell's body at the sound of Her last, flat—and yet nearly gleeful—sentence. What had She meant by, 'not where it counts'? How could they possibly—

A strangled moan split the air and startled the girl out of her thoughts.

She closed her eyes. Her blood ran cold. The sound had come from the boy in front of her.

From Forrest.

It doesn't count as 'making it' unless you live to see what you've made it to.

"[CENSORED]," The boy exclaimed as Chell sat up, grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face her. "[CENSORED], [CENSORED], [CENSORED]!" The girl could practically feel the color leave her face as she surveyed her partner.

Nonononono, she thought, not now, not when we were so close. Forrest let out another stream of curses as she began to cout the bloody holes that had been torn through his body. One... two, a line began to form between the girl's eyes as she counted her partner's wounds. three... ah, and four. This is not ideal. All in all, the boy had received four bullet wounds; two to his left shoulder, one to his right thigh, and one to his left side—which had apparently only grazed him and was now lodged in the wall behind them. Not ideal at all.

"Here," she began, making as if to touch his left arm, "let me—"

"Gah!" The boy jerked away and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "No," he said through gritted teeth, "no, let me be!"

"Forrest," she said, trying to sound calm and collected while her pulse throbbed in her ears like the beating of a frantic drum. "You have to let me see how bad it is." The boy stared into her face, as if scanning it for any sign of ill-intentions. The girl felt a pang deep inside her chest. He's hurt, she thought as she looked into his eyes, he's so, so broken. The pang hardened into a block of anger around her heart. And it's their fault. "Let me look at you," she said, commanding, not asking.

Forrest surrendered. He let out a groan, and slumped to the floor, chest heaving. His partner got to her feet, and crouched over him. This won't do, she thought. It felt too... open. After a second or two of deliberation, Chell took hold of her partner under the arms and dragged him, groaning and cursing, to the nearest wall and propped him up. Now, she thought, let's get a better look at these injuries.

With deft fingers, she unzipped her partner's jumpsuit and shimmied it off of his body to survey the flesh beneath. Oh, her heart skipped a beat as the full picture came crashing down around her head. The hole in Forrest's leg was spewing blood, and there was a persistent trickle from both his side, and the two wounds in his shoulder. I can't... I can't do... anything. I can't help him. The tide of hopelessness that accompanied this realization was nearly enough to make the girl's heart stop, as unaccustomed to such emotions as the was.

Chell closed her eyes, and took three deep, even breaths. Maybe she couldn't save her partner, but she would damn-well try. She set her jaw. This boy will not die, not on my watch.

With that thought still ringing in her head, Chell's eyes snapped open, and she re-assessed the situation. How could she keep this boy—no, Forrest—alive?