Disclaimer/Author's Note: Nothing in this story belongs to me. The characters are the property of Valve Software, and the storyline belongs to William Goldman, author of The Princess Bride. I feel I need to clarify—the way I wrote this fic was to crack open my own copy of The Princess Bride and follow it section-for-section, changing characters and scenarios where needed, but sticking pretty closely to the original format of the story. In places I have the gall to borrow Goldman's wording of a passage, or even the occasional chunk of unaltered text. This is not an original work. This is mashing two pre-existing works together for the sole purpose of having fun. I'm having a grand old time with it so far. I hope you do too.

Beneath the surface, an old salt mine had been converted into the greatest research facility ever to exist. It spread out for miles deep into the ground, like a huge, hollow iceberg, or maybe a giant subterranean beehive, honeycombed with offices and laboratories. Inside, bustling employees worked tirelessly—lab technicians running tests, accountants running numbers, gofers running errands—all in the pursuit of science. Like a hive, the place hummed with energy.

One man's vision brought it all together—and what a man he was. When he started building the facility, the papers called him a Science Maverick. Businessman, innovator, visionary genius. A legend in his own time. That was Cave Johnson.

He was the kind of man who could do the impossible, simply because he refused to believe anyone who told him it was impossible. His gleaming smile could dazzle the darkest eye, and his silver tongue could sell anything to anybody. He could've been the world's greatest used car salesman—but he had higher goals than that. Starting with a one-man business selling shower curtains door-to-door, he built the company up himself, and in less than ten years Aperture Science Innovators was the biggest and best applied sciences company the world had ever seen. (Well, second-best, behind their biggest competitor, Black Mesa, but they'd beat the bastards someday.)

It felt to Cave Johnson like his own private kingdom. He loved to walk the vast halls of the facility, surveying his domain and scaring any employees he caught slacking off, with his attentive assistant trotting at his heels. He loved to torment his assistant. He could tell her to do absolutely anything, no matter how tedious or arbitrary, and she'd do it without question. It became a sort of game he played—what stupid, pointless, arduous task would finally make her snap?

But she never snapped. Not one word of complaint passed her lips. She had to be the most obedient kid he'd ever met. Actually she was more a young woman now, but she'd been a kid of eighteen or so when he first hired her, and that was what he called her.

"Kiddo!"

"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson?"

"Kiddo, I want this week's lab reports on my desk on the double. And get me a cuppa coffee."

"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson."

That was all she ever answered. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson." File that, kiddo. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson." Type this, kiddo. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson." She was the first one in the building and the last one out every day, apart from himself. She didn't have any family, or any friends either as far as he could tell. She lived only for her job.

He sometimes considered giving her a raise, but never for very long. Not after the way she'd reacted to her first and only vacation. (She'd reappeared at work after only a day away, looking sick as a dog and utterly miserable, but perked up immediately when he told her to shine his shoes.) He figured she was stupid, or maybe crazy, or probably both—but whatever she was, it made her damn useful. He took little notice of her beyond that. She did her mundane assistantthings, and he did science.

And Cave Johnson was damn good at science. Aperture had become the cutting edge of innovation, the envy of every business mogul in the country, and Cave Johnson made it happen. Every scientist wanted to work for him. Every schoolkid wanted to see inside the facility walls. Every day, news of some new invention or discovery would come up from the labs—and as soon as it happened, Cave would find a way to market it. He was the man who brought science to the people.

He said as much in the latest of his many press conferences. "I'm the man who brings science to you." And he flashed a dazzling grin to the flashbulbs in the crowd. Cave Johnson was nothing if not charismatic—he loved the limelight, and it loved him. Standing on a raised stage, surrounded by people hanging on his every word, he was in his element. His assistant stood in the wings just out of view, taking notes for him and watching as he played the audience.

"Aperture's got both feet in the future, folks. You think our latest line of bulletproof shower curtains is something? You should see what we got cooking in the labs right this minute! We got stuff that would knock Newton's socks off!" He laughed his confident laugh. "You want flying cars in twenty years? They're gonna be Aperture-brand!"

The crowd tittered, and Cave's grin widened. "Ladies and gentlemen, we at Aperture Science Innovators are one hundred percent committed to bringing Progress to You. When this stuff goes on the market, and it's gonna go on the market real soon, Aperture's gonna change the world!" The crowd recognized the cue for applause, and cheered appropriately. Flashbulbs flashed, and Cave Johnson glowed with pride.

Somewhere in the sea of photographers and journalists, an unremarkable woman scribbled on a pad. It was this woman who mentioned him to the Administrator.

.

Mann Co. was the biggest name in weapons manufacturing. It was founded in the early 19th century, by legendary businessman Zepheniah Mann. Zepheniah had two sons, Redmond and Blutarch, but it was widely agreed that they were both blockheaded idiots who couldn't manage a lemonade stand without causing nuclear war—so upon Zepheniah's death, Mann Co. went to his aide, a hardy frontiersman named Barnabas Hale. Barnabas had a son, too, by the name of Bilious, and Bilious in turn had a son named Saxton. At the time of our story, Saxton Hale was the man behind Mann Co.

But behind every great man is a great woman, they say, and behind Saxton Hale was the Administrator. Her name was Helen, but no one needed to use it—when you mentioned the Administrator, people knew who you were talking about. She was the head of some shady company called TF Industries. No one knew exactly what they did, but everyone knew enough not to ask. Mann Co. was one of the organizations more overtly under its sway, but TFi's sphere of influence was wide, and no one but the Administrator knew how far it really went. Only one other person even glimpsed the full scope of operations. That person was the Administrator's assistant, Ms. Pauling.

Ms. Pauling was small in stature, and unassuming in appearance. She was pretty in a forgettable way—it could be said she had a kind face. People seldom noticed or remembered her, unless she looked them in the eyes. Her eyes, behind horn-rimmed glasses, were sharp as flint.

She also carried a semi-automatic pistol in her purse with which she could shoot a man between the eyes at a hundred yards. But that fact doesn't come into this story.

It was an ordinary day at Aperture when Ms. Pauling came to call. She breezed past the receptionist with barely a glance—"Pauling and Bidwell, for TF Industries and Mann Co."—and her companion, Mr. Bidwell, trailed in behind her. (Mr. Bidwell was one of Saxton Hale's aides, which explained his nervous, milquetoast sort of demeanor. You'd be nervous too if your boss wrestled crocodiles for fun.) With Bidwell following, she marched down the main hallway, down the wide flight of stairs, through the lobby, and up to the great glass elevator that led to the executive level. No one took so much as a glance at them.

Up the elevator, down another hallway, and finally the pair stood outside the door marked "Cave Johnson, CEO." Ms. Pauling pushed the door and strode inside.

His assistant looked up from her typing. This was not, in fact, Cave Johnson's office. It was the outer office, reserved for his assistant—his was the inner office, through the door beside her desk. She greeted the visitors with a standard smile. "Can I help you?"

"We're here to see Mr. Johnson."

"Do you have an app—"

"Yes, we're with TF Industries and Mann Co. The names are Pauling and Bidwell." Ms. Pauling, as an assistant herself, knew all the formalities and wasn't in the mood for them.

The assistant checked her list. Yes, they did have an appointment, and they were right on time. She buzzed Mr. Johnson's office. "Mr. Johnson? Ms. Pauling and Mr. Bidwell are here to see you."

"Send 'em in, kiddo."

"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson." She started to rise from her chair, a "Right this way" ready on her lips, but Ms. Pauling brushed past with a curt "Thank you" and the words died. Her expression was unreadable as she watched the other woman disappear into her boss's office.

Mr. Bidwell followed a little more slowly. His eyes lingered on the assistant.

.

Cave was leaning back in his office chair, in a pose carefully practiced to look both dominant and relaxed. He smiled as they entered. "Hi there. How can I help you folks?"

Ms. Pauling's gaze flicked first to the grand portrait on the wall behind the desk—an ostentatious thing, complete with a little gold nameplate at the bottom—then to the man himself who sat beneath it. Both wore identical grins that looked too charming for anyone's good. Pauling didn't fall for it. "I'm here about your files, Mr. Johnson."

Cave maintained his smile, but his brow wrinkled a little. "Files?"

"Yes sir. It's a well-known fact that Aperture's filing system is the best in the country. We want to know how you do it."

It took talent to be proud and confused at the same time, but Cave Johnson could be proud and anything at the same time. His chest puffed out at the compliment. "Well, uh. 'Course we take pride in out filing system. We take pride in everything here at Aperture."

"I'm sure you do." The woman's smile was a trifle thin. "That's why TF Industries wants to learn from you, Mr. Johnson. What's your secret?"

"My secret? Good teeth and a little Brylcreem, little lady," Cave said with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair—but the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. "But, uh, to tell you the truth, that's not my department. See, as the CEO of this place, I'm a big picture guy. I'm busy with important science stuff, so I can't waste my time with—"

"I'm sure you're very important, Mr. Johnson," Pauling interrupted, "but we're really here about your filing system."

"Tell you what—I'll take you down to the testing spheres and show you science in action! You've never seen anything like it—"

"Please, Mr. Johnson. The filing system."

Cave wasn't used to being interrupted. It threw him off balance. "Well. Uh. My assistant takes care of filing and stuff. Sure you don't wanna see the testing spheres?"

"Mr. Johnson—"

Then Mr. Bidwell spoke up for the first time. "Let's talk to your assistant, then." The other two glanced at him, and he continued, "That was her out there, wasn't it? Ask her to show us where the files are kept."

Johnson didn't notice the way Pauling's eyes sparked. He buzzed her desk. "Kiddo, c'mere a sec."

"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson." And his assistant peeped in at the door. She wilted a little as all three faces turned to her.

Bidwell, in a sudden show of boldness, stepped up to her. "Miss…?" he trailed off, expecting an introduction.

"Caroline."

"Your boss tells us you're in charge of the file system here at Aperture. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Would you show it to us, please?"

Her eyes widened warily and flicked over to her boss. "I don't know if that's—"

"Show 'em the file room, kiddo."

Further words stuck in her throat. She swallowed them. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson."

And so the four of them set off down the hall, with Caroline in the lead. Bidwell followed her closely, and Cave followed Bidwell. Pauling kept to the rear. Her watchful gaze darted everywhere.

When they reached their destination, Caroline lifted the key from a chain around her neck and unlocked the door. Inside, the file room was still and quiet. Pauling's eyes took in rows upon rows of neatly labeled files. Bidwell's eyes stayed on Caroline.

"Here's where we keep all our most important records and things," Cave started—

But Bidwell cut him off. "Why don't we let Miss Caroline show us around?"

The assistant flushed red. She seemed nervous letting visitors into her domain, but she did as she was asked. Going over to one shelf, she eased a file partway out and explained hesitantly, "This section is for lab reports. Here I group everything by laboratory, and then by date. For instance, this one is from Robotics, and it's dated May 16, 1952…"

She continued, but no one was listening. Pauling's attention danced from the files to the CEO and back, taking in the man himself even as she skimmed the labels. Johnson's smile was gone, replaced by something stormier than confusion. He was watching Bidwell.

Who was watching Caroline.

.

The two visitors were careful not to overstay their welcome, and with them gone, business could continue as usual. Except that it didn't. Cave felt distracted and ornery, and he couldn't for the life of him put his finger on why. Whatever it was, it kept him from concentrating on anything for more than a few seconds—longer than that and he'd find himself suddenly thinking about that sheep-faced lackey and wanting to punch something.

He managed to get through the day, only snapping at a few more employees than usual, but something kept him in the office even after the drones had gone home. Only his assistant remained, and she was on her way out too. "Can I do anything else, Mr. Johnson?" she asked one last time.

He started to say no, but something held the words back. He was tired and cranky, it had been a very long day, and no she damn well wasn't getting off the hook that easily. He turned on her.

"Yeah, you can do something. You can stop flirting with goddamn strangers every time they come into this office!" The ire in his voice took her by surprise. "You're here to do science, not to pick up men!" Her eyes widened with shock and hurt, and she shrank back, openmouthed. He pushed on anyway. "If you work for me, you represent my company, got that? You are not allowed to make goo-goo eyes at every guy who comes in here! You want me to look like I'm running a damn cathouse?" She shook her head mutely. "You're a secretary, not a streetwalker. Right?" She nodded. "Right?"

"Y-yes sir, Mr. Johnson."

"You do it again, you're fired!"

The girl looked about to cry. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson."

"Good," he finished gruffly. "Now get outta here."

She swallowed her tears and gathered her things without another word. The door shut with a thump behind her.

Cave sighed. Now on top of the moodiness, something in his belly ached. Maybe he was getting sick. He trudged back to his office and sat heavily behind his desk, massaging his scalp with his fingers. Even brilliant men of science had bad days. He slouched over and let his head sink into his hands.

And Bidwell was staring at Caroline.

His head jerked up. He let out a groan, rubbed a hand across his face, and sighed again. He needed to unwind. He ran his fingers through his hair and loosened his tie. It had been a long day, and he deserved a break. His jacket shrugged off his shoulders, and he stretched broadly in his chair, letting his elbows rest on the desk as he dropped his head in his hands.

Bidwell was still staring at Caroline.

Hell, he really needed to unwind. He hauled himself up from behind the desk, went to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and gulped it down. The empty glass came down a little too hard on the cabinet as he finished. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand—the feverish feeling was still there.

How feverish? He felt fine. He was in the prime of life and healthy as a horse. He put the bourbon away, plunked back into his chair, leaned back, and put his feet up on the desk. He closed his eyes.

Bidwell would not stop staring at Caroline!

Why? Why in the world would Hale's mindless peon be interested in Caroline? Cave growled and shifted in his seat. There simply was no other way of explaining that look—he was interested. Cave squeezed his eyes shut and studied the memory of Bidwell. Clearly, something about his assistant interested him. Facts were facts. But what? The kid had soft brown eyes like a doe's, but who cared about eyes? Her dark hair was thick and long and lustrous, if you liked that sort of thing. And she sure had curves under that modest dress, but so did a lot of girls. Yeah, she had an hourglass figure and long, shapely legs. So what? Of course her mouth was pink and perfect, and her cheeks blushed like roses; he wouldn't keep her around if she weren't easy on the eyes. But lots of girls were easy on the eyes—he kept her especially because she was good at her damn job.

Cave sat up. That was it. It had to be. Caroline was the best filer and note-taker he had, and Bidwell wanted to poach her for Mann Co.

Could it have been anything else? He thought hard. His own peons followed his assistant around a lot, when she was running errands for him, but they were idiots, they followed anything. And she always ignored them, because if she'd ever opened her mouth, they would have realized that was all she was good for, filing and note-taking; she was, after all, just a stupid kid.

It was really very strange that Bidwell should be so interested in some assistant, even if she was quite a good one. Cave shrugged. Peon psychology wasn't his problem. The kid wouldn't quit in a million years, anyway, so any Mann Co. plan to steal her was worthless. Nothing to worry about. He stretched, and yawned, and scratched himself, and let his tired body sink into the chair, and people don't look at other people the way Bidwell looked at his assistant because they can take dictation.

"Aw, hell," Cave growled.

Now his assistant was staring back at Bidwell. She was walking down the hallway with her hips swaying and Cave was standing there watching as she turned and looked, for the first time, deep into Bidwell's eyes.

Cave jumped up again and began to pace the room. How could she? Oh, it was alright if she looked at him, but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at him.

"He's a damn patsy," the CEO muttered, fuming like a furnace. Men like Bidwell existed for one reason—to work for people with brains enough to run things. He couldn't manage half the stuff Cave Johnson did in a day if he tried. Tagging along after that skirt with the glasses, he looked like a bewildered sheep.

Bidwell was a patsy, and that was that. No use dwelling on it. He poured himself another drink. The man was nebbish and incompetent, and—hell, he wasn't even cut out to gofer coffee. And he was too short for her anyway. Scrawny bastard. With his stupid bland face and his stupid reedy voice and his eyes that wouldn't stop looking at her…

Cave started pouring the third drink as soon as he finished the second one. It took all his self-control not to smash something. His heart was pounding and his face flushed red and his palms were sweaty and his hands shook and in a lesser man, this feeling might have been called jealousy—but Cave Johnson did not get jealous. Cave Johnson had never been jealous of anyone in his life. Especially not of some worthless, brainless, spineless flunky who had the gall to look at his assistant.

It was a very long and very green night.

He was outside her tiny duplex apartment before dawn. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again, harder. Still no answer. He pounded on the door with his fist for a good five minutes, and then noticed the doorbell. That was worth a try. He mashed his thumb into the button and didn't let up for a good five minutes more—until finally the door opened.

She appeared in the doorway, wearing a robe thrown over her nightgown, long hair tousled, dark eyes bleary with sleep. She blinked. He looked at her. Then he looked away.

She was too beautiful.

The fact of the matter was that he loved her. He loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone before. He had been romantic with many women, yes, but never loved them, and now he was feeling things he didn't even know it was possible to feel. He didn't even have a word for them, "love" not being in his practical vocabulary—which made his next speech a little bit difficult.

"Hey." He cleared his throat. "Hey, kiddo."

He could have said she was lovelier, more graceful, more totally spellbinding than any woman he'd ever seen. He could have said he adored her. He could have knelt at her feet and offered her the world. He could at least have apologized for years of harsh treatment, and maybe said thank you.

He said "Kiddo" again, and coughed.

For the very first time, Cave Johnson's silver tongue had turned to lead.

"Look. Kiddo. There's, uh—there's something I wanted to talk to you about. See, when a man and a woman—a good-looking, successful man like myself, say, and a—and a girl like you—well, sometimes things happen with men and women, y'know? 'Specially when they work together. Like we do. Right? And when two people work together—well I don't mean work work, like in an office, I mean—actually there are rules against that, hadn't thought of that part—" He cleared his throat again. "Um. Anyway. Don't need to talk about that, that's not what I'm getting at. What I'm saying is, you and I—we have a kinda—working relationship. Y'know? You been my assistant for a few years now, and I've never had a bad thing to say about you. You're the last person I'd ever expect to do something wrong. Not that you did do something wrong, I'm not saying that. I mean, you're the best assistant I ever had—"

He stumbled suddenly. The unplanned compliment took him by surprise. But he took another breath and persevered. "Yeah, you are. You're the best assistant I ever had. And that means something, Caroline. I've never called you that before, have I? Well Caroline—Caroline—'s a pretty name, I dunno why I haven't used it—what I'm saying is, Caroline, that we work real well together. We make a good team." He took a deep breath. "Caroline, you're the backbone of Aperture Science Innovators, and I dunno what I'd do without you. Just wanted to tell you that." And with that, he dared the bravest thing he'd ever done: he looked right into her eyes.

She closed the door in his face.

Without a word.

Without a word.

Cave's shoulders slumped, but he said nothing. His whole body felt made of lead. He wasn't used to defeat, and was even less used to accepting it—but he didn't know what else to do. So without a word, he trudged down her front lawn and got back in his car. Without a single word.

The drive home was a long one, and very lonely. He sat in silence with his eyes fixed on the road.

Not even one word. She hadn't had the decency for that. "Yes sir," she could have said. Would it have killed her to say "Yes sir," like always?

Why couldn't she at least have said something?

Cave thought very hard about that for a moment. And suddenly he had the answer: she didn't talk because the minute she opened her mouth, that was it. Sure she was gorgeous, but dumb as a rock. The minute she had exercised her tongue, it would have all been over.

"Duhhhhhhh."

That's what she would have said. That was the kind of thing Caroline came out with when she was feeling really sharp. "Duhhhhhhh, tanks, Mr. Johnson."

Cave shook himself and smiled. He took a deep breath, heaved a sigh. It was just one of those things. You got these little quick passions, you blinked, and they were gone. He was an impulsive guy. This sort of thing was to be expected. And he hadn't made a fool of himself at all—she knew better than to mention it to anyone, on pain of dismissal, so nobody else ever had to know. Forget about it, champ, and get on with the morning. Cave pulled into the Aperture parking lot, strolled into the building, ran a comb through his hair in the men's room mirror—ladykiller, as usual—and gulped down another bourbon as soon as he got to his office. Because there was a limit to just how much you could lie to yourself.

Caroline wasn't stupid.

Oh, he could pretend she was. He could laugh about her soft-spoken shyness. He could chide himself for his silly infatuation with some kid. The truth was simply this: she had a head on her shoulders, with a brain inside every bit as good as his. There was a reason she hadn't spoken, and it had nothing to do with gray cells working. She hadn't spoken because, really, there was nothing for her to say.

He thought she was perfect, and she didn't care.

It was an awful day. Caroline was the next one in the building, as usual, but she didn't even look at him as she brought his morning coffee. She didn't look at him all day, and her conversation was limited to things like "Phone for you, Mr. Johnson," and "Mr. Jennings is here to see you, Mr. Johnson." He plodded through briefings and conferences in a fog. His heart wasn't in it. He could talk anyone into anything, could win over any woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and it meant nothing. The one time it mattered, he wasn't good enough. He'd never been not good enough before. It made him feel sick.

The hours dragged by so slowly it hurt, but at last the day ended. The sun was sinking outside, and the facility emptied in minutes as Cave's employees went back to their homes. The CEO himself sat slumped behind his desk, firmly ignoring the paperwork in front of him, when he heard footsteps outside his door. He sat up. Another knock. "What?" he barked.

"It's Caroline, sir."

His heart leaped into his throat before he could stop it. C'mon, Cave, pull yourself together, he thought frantically, as his pulse pounded in his ears. She's just a kid. He swallowed his nerves, straightened his tie, and leaned way back in his chair. Play it cool. "Caroline?" he said. "Do I know a Caro—oh, kiddo! C'mon in!" He propped his feet up as she entered, and said in his most casual tone, "Glad you stopped by, kiddo. I was starting to feel kinda bad about this morning, coming by your house and all. Shouldn't have woken you up just for a stupid joke. You knew I was joking, right? All that teamwork crap. You know me, I wouldn't do teamwork if my life depended on it. Cave Johnson doesn't do teams. I work on my own, and I don't need anybody. You know that. Right?"

"Sir…" Her voice was soft, and she still wasn't looking at him. "I'm leaving, sir."

Cave's stomach dropped through the floor. "Leaving?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Now wait a minute. Wait one goddamn minute!" Suddenly irate, he surged out of his chair and towered over her, or would have if she weren't almost his height in heels. "This is about Mann Co., isn't it? Just tell me what they offered you and I'll match it. Double it. Whatever you want. If that asshole Bidwell thinks he can steal you, he's got another thing coming!"

"Sir?"

"I don't care how much he makes eyes at you, that guy is not getting you away from Aperture. You want a company car? A thousand-dollar bonus? You got it! I don't care! Screw Mann Co.!"

"What—"

"And what the hell makes you think you can just walk out, huh? You're my assistant! You can't just quit on me, woman, I need you!"

She just looked at him, frowning a little.

Her soft brown eyes knotted up his tongue again. He finished lamely, "And Bidwell's too short for you, anyway."

"Mr. Johnson, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not just gonna let you leave."

"I'm only going home for the night, sir."

He stumbled over his own tongue. "…Oh. Good."

"I'm not going to run off anywhere, Mr. Johnson." A soft blush painted her cheeks. "I belong here at Aperture. Nothing anyone could offer me would ever make me leave." And that was true—more true than she could say.

The fact of the matter was that she loved him. She had for many years. He had been her childhood hero, when he was a young entrepreneur and she was a girl of twelve. She'd slept for years with his picture under her pillow. She loved science as much as he did, and to work at Aperture was her heart's deepest dream—stumbling on his ad in the classifieds had seemed then, to an eighteen-year-old with no family and no money, like the opportunity of a lifetime. She cried with joy the day he gave her the job.

Every day since she only loved him more. She said nothing, but she felt it every time she heard his voice, and every time he smiled. She loved him by being the best assistant he could ask for: efficient, resourceful, and always obedient. The company really had improved by leaps and bounds since she was hired, and it was because she loved him. And because she couldn't say the words "I love you," she said, "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson," instead. Every time she said, "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson," what she meant was, "I love you."

Now, in her heart of hearts, she suspected he loved her back.

She said softly, "I wanted to ask if there's anything else you need."

"Nah. That's all today, kiddo."

She nodded, and lowered her head. "I'll go home, then."

"Yeah."

She turned away from him, took a step towards the door.

His stomach knotted up.

She took another step. "I'll be back in the morning."

"Yeah." He stammered a little.

She reached for the doorknob. He couldn't quite breathe.

"Actually, there is one thing."

She turned back, and her eyes were the color of coffee and chocolate, and her barely-open mouth was soft and pink as a young rose. "Yes sir?"

He tried not to stammer again. "Caroline…"

"Yes?" She took a little step towards him, looking up with those wide dark eyes, and his tongue felt thick and useless. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "What is it, Mr. Johnson?"

"Ah. Um. Caroline…"

She was close enough to kiss.

"Would you kiss me?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson."

And she did.

.

Cave Johnson had numerous great moments in his life thus far. The day he bought the old salt mine that became Aperture Science, and the day of the facility's Grand Opening. The first time he made headlines, with his picture in the paper. The day he made his first million dollars. Any one of these events would be enough to make a lifetime extraordinary, and Cave Johnson had many.

That night left them all behind.

.

It began the best time of their lives. Cave Johnson and his assistant were an unstoppable force, and with both of them working 'round the clock, Aperture rocketed to the fore of the scientific world. Profits more than doubled as business rolled in, and the labs turned out more and better results every day. They had the world at their feet. Caroline blossomed—in weeks she seemed to grow from a shy young girl to a confident, assertive woman. She'd been Cave's useful helper before, but now she was his right hand. As for the CEO, he was in better spirits than ever, and no one was about to question why. His booming laugh echoed through the halls wherever he went, and Caroline's light, lilting tones accompanied it. Both of them wore near constant smiles.

Together, they made Aperture a household name. Their stock prices soared, and securing a contract with the US Armed Forces—Caroline's idea—gave them extra income to fund more experiments than they ever dared to dream of. Fame and fortune landed right at their doorstep.

The realization didn't sink in until the lab cloned a live dodo bird, and Scientific American ran a ten-page story on it. Caroline could barely contain her excitement when the journalist arrived. She'd read Scientific American regularly since she was a teenager—seeing their company logo in the headline felt surreal. Cave only grinned and said, "We're on the up and up, kiddo."

The next month they had a breakthrough in cross-phylum hybrids—the lab boys called them "Mantis Men"—and Cave made his first string of appearances on television talk shows. They built a working anti-gravity chamber, and Cave was on the cover of Forbes magazine. They devoted a whole testing sphere to growing live organs in chemical vats, and the President told Cave to call him Ike. That year Aperture made the top five of the Fortune 500, coming in just barely below Black Mesa—but they'd beat the bastards someday. Every employee was certain of it now.

Meanwhile Cave did interview after interview, gaining celebrity status with each one. He flourished in front of cameras and microphones. Caroline organized his notes and cue cards neatly for each appearance, and she always hovered right behind the crew, watching her boss with a proud smile. The public was finally seeing in him what she saw all along.

But the more publicity he got, the less he seemed to care. Not that he didn't enjoy fame and fortune—he certainly did—but they were icing on the cake. For the first time in years, he was truly happy. He was doing science—and he was in love.

Which was why Caroline's death hit him the way it did.

It struck like lightning on a clear day. She was in the robotics lab, overseeing the first test run of a new artificial intelligence project—normally she would've been with Cave in a meeting, but the lab techs insisted that one of them should be present for this important test, and Caroline agreed. So Cave was in the boardroom with an important investor when the scream began.

Cave had heard many things in his life, but nothing quite so eerie as this: he was a brave man, but this sound frightened him. The depth and strangeness of its agony was so chilling that Cave didn't even recognize it as human. (It came from his very own assistant, but he wouldn't learn that until later.)

The sound grew in anguish, and it filled the recycled air as it spread across the facility, up through the floors, even scaring birds from the power lines as it rose into the daylight above.

It would not stop. It simply hung now below the sky, an audible reminder of the existence of agony. In the employee daycare, half a dozen children screamed back, trying to blot out the sound. Some wept, some only hid under tables.

Then it began to lessen in volume. Now it was hard to hear in the parking lot, now it was gone. Now it was hard to hear in the daycare, now it was gone from the daycare. It shrank across the facility toward the Robotics lab, where technicians sat fiddling with knobs. Caroline died. Then the more ordinary screaming began.

No one could quite settle on a story. All they knew was that the lab had sealed off without warning and stayed that way until an emergency team hacked inside with a fire axe. They found a nightmarish scene inside. The air was filled with toxic gas, the floor was slick with blood, and everyone inside was very dead. The lab equipment was in shreds, as if a wild animal with the strength of a tank had torn apart the room. The experiment itself had vanished.

When the aide told him, Cave's face blanched dead white. He dashed out of the meeting and down to the lab, but at the broken-down door the emergency team held him back. He shouldn't go in there, they insisted. The forensics specialists were there now, and they were trying to figure this out. He really shouldn't go in there. It took three men to hold him back.

"Caroline!"

"She's dead, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"CAROLINE!"

"The bodies will be in the morgue later, sir. You can… you can see her then."

"I'm gonna see her now, you goddamn—"

"Please, sir. You really don't want to go in there."

He opened his mouth to protest again, but at that moment a pair of medics walked out carrying a full body bag. Cave watched them pass in choked silence. He stared after them and asked, in a softer tone, "How'd it happen?"

"Sir—"

"Did they gas her? Or cut her open, o-or crush her, or what?" His voice shook.

"Her head was—" one of the younger medics began, but an older one stomped on his foot and he shut up.

"We'll move her to the morgue, and you can—"

"Nah." Cave waved off the words with a hand. His eyes were focused on something far away. "Thanks, though." It didn't matter how she died. In his memory, she was alive and brilliant and beautiful. She would stay that way.

He went to his office and shut the door.

He stayed there for days. No one knew if he slept or ate. His assistant's self-appointed replacement, a harried man named Greg, canceled his meetings and told all callers he was away on an unexpected trip. Occasionally Greg would dare a knock at the door to ask if he wanted food, but the CEO never responded. It was very quiet inside. He never made sound.

In the labs, science went on without him.

When he emerged at last, his eyes were dry. Greg looked up at him, and started to rise from his chair, but Cave stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Any messages?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Back to work."

As he strode down the halls once more, curious eyes dogged his every step. Employees stared openly, sacrificing tact to gauge the mood of their volatile boss. He was a changed man. The bright enthusiasm in his face was gone, replaced by grim severity. His features looked set in stone. Cautiously, one brave accountant approached and told him the news: Black Mesa's facility had suffered a minor accident involving leaked radiation, which led to a few dozen minor cases of radiation poisoning in a nearby town and some serious bad press. In response, their stock value had taken a dip, while Aperture's had risen with the release of their newest shower curtain line. According to the numbers, Aperture was on top at last.

That was good news, wasn't it?

Cave gave the accountant a long, hard stare.

"To hell with it."

Without Caroline, he never did science again.