I love it when I rediscover old ideas to write. Enjoy =)

-CheckItOutGirl=)

A/N: 3rd person. Kind of a slow start in the beginning, but I felt the need to explain how I thought she and Wheatley BOTH got out. Then it gets to the point of the story and some Chelley fluff after, oh...about 2 pages on OpenOffice xP

[Edit]: Thank you, Chloe Kompton, for pointing out the mistakes I'd made xD I think I fixed all of them. I wrote this really late last night after studying for 4 hours straight for a test, and some of the original ideas were written in Notepad, making it break at random places. I apologize for any confusion/inconvenience xP

. . .

More To Her Than A Pretty Face

A throbbing.

That was the first thing she felt when she started to come to. A painful, violent throbbing in her temples. Her arms and fingers were a bit sore, too.

Then, a coldness. A large, spherical patch of cold pressed against her chest, causing a shiver to creep up her spine and her brows to furrow in discomfort.

Her mind was hazy, struggling to pull memories and recollections of the events leading up to this aching state from the fog clouding it. All she could conclude was that it was important, dramatic, life-threatening, and involved madness and science.

Science.

The mere thought of the word startled her awake, jolting her upright and instantly inducing a fierce headache to follow the sudden action. As things slowly started to come into focus, she noted the cold presence against her chest was determinedly being hugged to her by her own arm; a dirty, battered, all-too-familiar metal core, to be exact. His blue optic darted anxiously over her bruised and broken form, concern obvious even as he shook uncontrollably in her grasp. She wasn't sure why he seemed so frightened or why she was even holding him in the first place...

...until her gaze latched onto the supercomputer swaying intimidatingly in front of her, and everything came flooding back.

"Oh, thank God you're alright," GLaDOS sighed, almost sounding...relieved. Chell immediately put up her guard, naturally associating GLaDOS's uncharacteristic concern with something sinister.

Suddenly, the A.I. brought herself closer to the woman, her yellow optic narrowing severely, malice clear in her glare.

"That moron made it back in? Fantastic." The simple-minded core was viciously trembling in Chell's grasp, his bright blue optic shrunken to a pinpoint; everything about the situation caused the hairs on the back of the girl's neck to stand straight up, GLaDOS's twisted scheming thickly layering the tense atmosphere without even being spoken.

The mastermind brought her body even closer to Chell and Wheatley, scrutinizing the core with all she had; showing that she was, once again, completely in control, and he was just an insignificant idiot who'd squatted in her chassis. "Oh, yes. A year in the incinerator, if I recall right, then the cryogen—"

She had no idea what possibly compelled her to do it—to sacrifice herself yet again for the fumbling British sphere—when Chell pulled the core impossibly closer to her body, turned her back slightly to the omnipotent A.I. who could kill her at any moment, plastered a grimace on her scarred face, and portrayed a stance that couldn't be described as anything but hopelessly protective...but she couldn't stop herself. Something inside of her screamed at her nerves to defend the now helpless little core against the homicidal, ruthless supercomputer that had plagued her existence for as long as she could remember. Something in her couldn't let that happen to someone else—alive, manufactured, or artificial.

She instantly regretted it.

GLaDOS's attention switched from Wheatley to the strong young woman who dared to defy her. "Oh, you are kidding me," she heaved, disappointment and discouragement laced like poison through her tone. "You're going to let that little idiot live? After everything he's done to you, me, my facility...are you sure you want him to live?"

Figuring she'd already dug herself a ditch too deep to get out of, Chell stared fiercely in determination back at GLaDOS in response.

A simulated sigh echoed through the room. "Well, alright then. But I'm certainly not going to watch over him," she explained, her optic staring pointedly at Chell.

And as GLaDOS transitioned the scenario from the Intelligence Dampening Sphere's fate to a speech about her own life, realizations, and the mystery that was Caroline, Chell only managed to catch bits and pieces, her focus now resting on Wheatley as the gravity of the A.I.'s statement set in. She was now the core's only hope...the only thing he had left after his field day in someone else's body. He'd been stripped bare of his power, his control...his sense, not that he had much programmed into him to begin with. Now, with her stubborn resistance and unplanned protection, she had become responsible for the moronic sphere—an additional burden she really didn't need on her shoulders.

"Caroline deleted."

The sound snapped Chell's mind back to the present situation, her eyes painted wide with fear.

"Goodbye, Caroline," GLaDOS dismissed flatly, causing Chell to brace herself for the worst now that the computer's only connection to humanity was gone.

She turned to the anxious woman. "You know, deleting Caroline just now taught me a valuable lesson. The best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one. And I'll be honest: killing you...is hard."

Her pale eyes narrowed, hesitant and unsure of where GLaDOS stood now as she tightened her grip on Wheatley, who had finally stopped shaking and was listening intently along with his savior.

"You know what my days used to be like? I just tested. Nobody murdered me...or put me in a potato...or fed me to birds; I had a pretty good life.

"And then you showed up," the mastermind started to conclude, Chell's glare narrowing rebelliously, "you dangerous, mute lunatic. So you know what?"

The girl remained unmoved, trying to stand strong against whatever the outcome of this little meeting might be.

"You win. Just go."

As the elevator ascended, Chell just couldn't hide the immediate shock, disbelief, surprise, and excitement that colored her face all at once at the sound of the words she never thought she'd hear. She glanced down at Wheatley for assurance that it was really, truly happening, and was met with his excited, unique smile in confirmation.

The sound of gentle laughter filled the area as the young woman heard the last words she ever would from her best frenemy. "It's been fun. Don't come back."

. . .

As soon as the sun hit her face for the first time, Chell was met with an overwhelming sense of pride and freedom. She was free. After countless near-death experiences, murders, and physical and emotional trials, she was finally free.

Now all she had to do was find something other than wheat.

Chell continued forward through the field, each step confident and sure, carrying the Companion Cube with Wheatley perched delicately on top of it and enjoying the simplicities of life. Though she never faltered in her progress, she did take a few moments to herself to enjoy the feel of the breeze tickling her fair-skinned cheeks, to watch the puffy white clouds roll by without a care, and to admire the rich golden color surrounding them after spending years locked in a world filled with nothing but gray, blue, and white. This was truly paradise.

But her pleasant thoughts were soon interrupted by a bumbling core who had stayed quiet for much longer than he was able to bear.

"So...I..." He cleared his throat, the tension so thick a turret could fire a bullet through it. "I wanted to thank you, for, um, saving my life and everything. If you hadn't held onto me, I would've been drifting about space right now listening to that core drone on and on about it. So, again, thank you."

The girl just ignored him, the mere sound of his voice stirring up a mix of wild emotions she couldn't decipher.

"You know, you can't hate me forever, luv," Wheatley said quietly, his shutters drawn together in a sad appearance around his optic, the blue dimmed in hurt.

Chell glared at him furiously, a low growl rumbling in the back of her throat at the absurdity of the statement.

"Alright, alright! So you can hate me, but...but please don't. I mean, I wish you didn't." He sighed when he realized her gaze hadn't softened any.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaving him as vulnerable as he could be to the woman who he'd hurt so badly. "So, so sorry. As sorry as they come. Really, truly sorry."

Her expression wavered the tiniest bit, struggling intensely to stay angry despite the raw sincerity in his heartbroken tone.

"You do understand that I never meant to hurt you, right? I mean, there were the death traps and everything, like the mashy-spike-plates...and...and the deadly pit...b-but that's beside the point! I never, ever wanted to hurt you, or kill you, even though I said that I did...numerous times...and that I hated you...but that was totally, completely untrue. In fact, what I feel for you is definitely not hatred, or even mild dislike. I could never hate you," he explained to the best of his limited ability, his voice softening at the end.

Composure gradually breaking, Chell ceased walking, her interest peaked enough to listen more. She twitched a single eyebrow upward, encouraging him to continue.

"She did that to me. Her. Her body is evil, it's corrupted, it's...it's just bloody bad. And I will admit, it was pretty cool to be in it for a while, but that wasn't me, for the most part. You know me."

Do I? she thought at him, that defensive wall of hers slowly building back up, her pale eyes drifting to the ground as she shifted her feet uncomfortably under his gaze.

"We are outside the facility now, mate. You can speak, you know."

She glared and growled again.

Wheatley's optic shrunk in fright. "Alright, okay, of course you knew that. Of course you knew. My mistake. Sorry again." He relaxed slightly when he saw a triumphant smile light her face once again.

Suddenly, his optic brightened, his excitement gathering as a new thought occurred to him. "I just realized something," he said, his voice full of awe. "Something that will make you not hate me...or at least, not as much," he continued, conceding when she just glared at him stronger.

"But you have to do something for me. I will only tell you...if you forgive me. Or if you at least speak. One of the two would do, though both would be marvelous."

Noticing she had started to walk again only to stop once more at whatever dawned on him, she tapped her foot impatiently against the hot, dry dirt.

"Alright, okay, this is pretty heavy. You...you don't know your own name, do you?"

Chell's eyes widened in shock as she realized that no, she didn't. She actually didn't know her own name, after how long she'd survived. All that time fighting for her freedom, and she never even took the time to contemplate the smaller things that would be necessary once she'd achieved it.

Growing more agitated with each passing second, she quirked her head to the side in a clear signal: get on with it already.

"Are you ready? Remember—forgiveness or talking. Either will do. Both would be great, but you know, either or. Ready?"

Raising her hand, ready to smack it out of him if she needed to, Chell nodded her head ferociously in eagerness, eyes wide with expectancy.

"Your name...is...Chell. See-aych-ee-ell-ell. Chell. Not quite sure what your last name is, being that you're adopted and all...but, there you go. There's your name. Chell."

A ghost of a smile touching the corners of her lips, she reflected on it for a long while, turning the name over and over again in her mind. Chell...Chell...

Daringly, she tried it on her lips, whispered quietly to herself in wonder. "Chell."

Wheatley immediately hears it, even though Chell had hoped the sound had been lost in the rustle of the wheat in the breeze. "You said something! You did it! You talked!" A exultant, simulated laugh poured from his speakers, his bottom shutter drawing up in his signature smile. "Wow!"

After grinning proudly to herself for a few minutes at the discovery of her name, she snapped her head back up in response, giving Wheatley a piercing glare lined with daggers that clearly said: I still hate you.

"Okay, alright, fair enough, luv. You'll forgive me eventually."