There was nothing of use in the elevator for the next part of the journey. Craig looked dead on his feet, but he still scoured the crevices of the place to find anything, a flashlight, water, food. Not that his own self-preservation was really his first priority, but he felt a strange kind of responsibility for the core helping him through all of this. That core hadn't known he was Rick; now Craig felt the urge to keep going and protect the core, which meant he needed to care for himself, too.

"Hey, Craig, kiddo, we're comin' up on the floor, better hide," the core called from across the room.

That made the archivist frown, noting that it was suggested he abandon the core in favor of his own safety. It was precisely the opposite of Craig's intention. Still, from a hiding spot, he had more of an advantage to sneak up on someone or sneak away with the Adventure Sphere while they weren't looking. Craig wedged himself in the furthest corner of the elevator, thanking whomever built this hell that it was L-shaped. From his place, he could watch the entrance through the opaque windows surrounding the elevator. If he kept still, he would remain unseen and be able to plan accordingly based on who climbed into the room.

Several minutes passed. The blond could see his mechanical companion moving slightly. It seemed they got lucky this time and it was late enough for most of the employees to be gone for the day. Still cautious, Craig poked his head around the bend of the elevator and checked the surroundings.

"Coast's clear, s'far as I can tell," Rick announced.

Without a word, Craig carefully detached the core from the console and cradled him with the utmost care against his chest. Only when he was certain that his grip was firm and Rick unable to fall did he leave the elevator. The hallway was quiet and though Craig put faith in Rick's analysis of the area, he did not trust this place at all. The core kept quiet as the archivist shuffled away from the elevator, heightening the silence around them to a palpable level. The hallway was a narrow one, much like the cold storage chambers they had been in earlier. Thankfully, it was brightly lit, despite no one allegedly in the area. It didn't remind Craig of that storage chamber at all, though the similarity was noted. Now that he had gotten himself under control, he did not intend on letting his grip on that self-control loosen in the least. His whole reason for being here was dead, but now he had a new one.

The way was lined with offices, all with a fogged glass window and a title written on the wood below. All of them belonged to very accomplished scientists, by the accolades and titles surrounding their names. It all looked very scholarly and quite plain upon first glance; innocuous was not the word the man would use to describe any portion of what he had seen previously. It was almost jarring that nothing was... outwardly wrong. It made him more nervous, if that was possible, like one of those horrendous monsters he'd seen would come and try to kill him again or perhaps a corpse covered in oil instead of blood might fall from one of the closed doors. Unconciously, Craig shuddered, making the green light from Rick's core swivel to glance up at him. Tactfully, he didn't ask what the matter was. Craig probably could not have answered very well in the first place.

All in all, it looked more like a place where legitimate, ethical science was done. Where top scientists did their research and drafted their scientific journals, instead of plotting on how to warp and abuse the human body in ways one should never even conceive much less actually carry out. Unfortunately, because of that very fact, it was not a safe place to stop. Someone would inevitably come back here in the morning and security would be tight because of the importance of those people. Though, as far as he could tell, the security in the entire facility was frighteningly lax. Craig's shoulders slumped just enough for the core to notice and he turned in his chassis quickly.

"Keep movin', partner, we ain't there jus' yet," he assured the blond.

Craig glanced down and shook his head slightly, to chase off the exhaustion. His eyes felt bloodshot and heavy; he knew if he stopped walking, it might be impossible to keep going. Barely glancing at the doors any longer, he kept his head down and briskly moved down the corridor. The main hallway branched off occasionally, but each time Craig glanced toward the left or right turns, the core shook his head. He was the one with the plan, so the archivist just quietly continued. The almost mechanical strides that kept him going weren't on his mind and the longer he went on, the less attention he paid to what Rick was telling him, slightly muffled against his jacket and already quieted to a volume better suited for tomb-like reverence. Instructions on where to go were followed, however, even if Craig didn't quite pay attention to them; the core in his grasp jerked and waved his handlebars in the directions he wanted the man to go. That was easier to follow that words.

Rick led him down a set of much less prestigious looking doorways. In fact, most of the wood was cheap and splintering, almost none of them had glass windows. Those that did were tiny and lined with metal to prevent cracks and shattering. The much lower budget area, if Craig had the mind to guess. Workers that were paid much, much less, but still needed an office. No one would be able to look inside without opening the doors. The blond sighed in relief; he could take a short rest. The very last door on down this particular hallway was what he eventually settled on. There was a nameplate on the outside that he didn't even glance at because the door wasn't locked, he didn't care. It was smudged, blurred and unreadable even if he had. The hinges creaked jarringly, making Craig flinch, but he crept inside of the dark office anyway. Being underground, there were no windows. With hands that were shaking more than he'd like to admit, the man flipped on the office lightswitch to flood the room with a sickly yellow light.

It was a small, cramped space, filled to the brim with cardboard boxes full of both blank and filled paper, all with ones, zeros, and complicated programming code if they were printed on. Craig could not read binary nor computer codes all too well and especially not right now, so he left them alone. The desk was cleaner-until Craig saw the drawers with corners of paper sticking out in various directions. Rick seemed more interested in the picture on the desk, his shutters narrowed at the people in it. After a long searching stare, he looked up at the blond.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, "Mebbe we shouldn't stay in here. Looks like someone's gonna come back."

"The door locks," Craig sighed, looking more and more tired by the second, "I just... need to rest a while."

The core couldn't argue with that, but it still put him on edge. It wasn't like he was in much of a place to protect the poor guy, as much as he'd like to. Still, Craig picked up the small cracked frame out of distant curiosity. Three people were in the shot, an older woman with greying blonde hair with her arms around two young men. The older of the two was an overweight man who looked just short of middle-aged with glasses and a crooked smile; the second was a good deal younger, but still an adult. He looked more like the woman, with a round face and blond hair. It was unclear which of the three was the owner of the desk, all of them were old enough to be some kind of long-term desk worker, or an intern of some kind. They looked cozy; Craig assumed that they were family of some sort, even if the older man looked out of place with his reddish hair contrasting to the dirty blonde of the others. He set the frame back down next to a wooden toy bird; the kind that sat on long legs and tilted back and forth, probably in the glass of cloudy water next to it. The reminder that real people worked here was not a very welcome one. People with families and people with quirks and dreams and all those things that made one sympathetic.

No one in this facility kept that in mind while they had killed Richard Sargento.

The Adventure Core must have seen the melancholy start to seep into Craig's body language because he started to move again, doing his best to push the blond toward the corner with his handlebars pressing into his chest.

"C'mon, y'need t'sleep at least a little if ya can," he insisted, sounding a touch more motherly than was typical for the core supposedly all about bravado.

It made the corners of Craig's mouth even out-the best sort of smile one would get out of him. Gently, he set the green personality sphere on the desk and dragged the desk chair from under it. It was jammed under the doorknob to block the door after he locked it. The person who worked in here would have a key, he wasn't so tired as to forget that. Once he felt a fraction more safe, he picked Rick back up and settled into the corner of the office, somewhat hidden by a supply cabinet. The core rested on his crossed legs and Craig pulled off his jacket for some kind of covering, draping it over his shoulders. Possessively, his arms wrapped around Rick as best he could and his cheek rested on top of his chassis. It wasn't comfortable, but Craig did not care. Right now, afraid, cold, hungry, and full of despair-this was as content as he was going to get.

"Good night, Rick," the man murmured very quietly, his pink eyes shut and his eyebrows drawn together.

"...Good... Good night, darlin'," he responded, too quiet for Craig to hear.

Silence fell over the two of them and Rick kept a close eye on the door. Best he could do, keep still and keep watch. He was used to waiting long periods of time with nothing to do or say. This time... he had a lot to think about, though; namely the frail blond clinging to his chassis and exactly what his relationship to that man was. Even with no recollection of the personality Rick had been before now, the core could see just what was so endearing about Craig to someone so similar to himself.

Respectfully, he dimmed the green light behind his optic, though he could already tell the archivist was long asleep. Good, the sphere thought to himself, he damn well needs some rest.

Hours passed and Rick kept a close eye on his internal clock, just how long Craig had been sleeping, and the noise outside of the office door. It was impossible to see if it was daylight yet or not, but around eight o'clock the next morning, the handle shook and jiggled. Rick blinked at it for a moment before realizing someone was trying to get in! As quietly as he could, Rick tried to nudge the inevitably exhausted man with his handlebars. The sound of keys on the other side and some muffled speech signaled there wasn't much time. The blond moved only slightly with a tired groan and a muffled sound that might've been Rick's name.

"Hey! Hey, Craig, c'mon wake up, four-eyes, dammit!" Rick urged him in as loud a whisper as he dared, "Someone's comin'!"

That did more of the trick. Craig sat up and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, peering blearily around for the source of noise. The doorknob moved again, temporarily jammed by the desk chair. Craig's pink eyes flew open wide and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly stashing the Adventure Core behind a set of boxes and pressing his finger to his lips to shush the core before tossing his jacket over his hull to hide him. Without much more of a plan than that, Craig crept behind the door opposite the side it would open and waited for the angry slamming noises to stop. Whoever used this office was determined to get inside of it.

Muffled, angry swears could be heard underneath the cracks of the door. The voice sounded male, leaving out one of the people Craig saw in that picture. Half of a thought crossed his mind that he would need to defend himself and he snatched the chair from under the doorknob. The door flung open and someone stumbled inside with a loud OOF. The archivist held the chair up in front of himself to keep the door from slamming into him while the owner of the office righted himself with a few mumbled words that he couldn't hear of the blood pounding in his ears.

"Damned, bloody door, thought I fixed it sticking like that," a voice grumbled, "Simple logic, really, it locks, it sticks. I didn't lock it! Who in their right mind would mess with another bloke's door!"

Footsteps approached and Craig tensed, too cramped in to lift the chair like he intended. A good blow to the head would keep the office worker silent, if only he could get a good swing. The door moved and by the time Craig had enough space to move at all, he was staring at a man not all too much older than himself. Both men gaped at each other, Craig gripping the chair tight enough that his knuckles were white. This was definitely the overweight man in the picture, blue eyes, red hair, and a pair of glasses were unmistakeable.

Now that the door was shut, the blond lifted the chair at the man, attempting to snarl, but only managing a terrified expression, "Stay away from me, it takes much less force than one might think to cause a concussion!" he sputtered out.

The employee's hands shot up in front of him, "Ahh, haha, okay mate, c-calm down there," he stuttered nervously.

Even though Craig was thinner, shorter, and just generally smaller, the threat seemed to be enough, even if it was just the threat of trouble that put the employee on the defensive. He shoved the chair in the other man's direction as an indication to move. The redhead stumbled backward after a moment's confusion, letting Craig come away from the door.

"Look, I have to be completely... one-hundred percent honest," he began, hands still up in surrender, "If you're one of those spies they always squawk about, you are in the wrong place, yes sir."

"I'm not a thief," Craig spat, gripping the backrest of the chair so the legs were pointed at the employee, "I just want to leave."

"OH! By all means, just... go right on ahead then, please don't let me stop you," the employee laughed nervously, gesturing toward the door, "Nope, I didn't see a bloody thing, swear on my life, cross my heart, hope to die, all that business."

Craig's eyes darted over where he had hidden the Adventure Sphere and back over to the English man in front of him. If he was already swearing he didn't see anything... This would certainly make him look like a thief. Still, the archivist corralled the man behind his desk with motions of the chair and set it down, quickly gathering up Rick as best he could with his jacket covering him. A scoffing, disbelieving sound came from behind him, but there was no point in sticking around to get accused of lying.

Just when Craig whipped around to head out the door, the employee was blocking the way, "That, where... where did you get that," he said, sounding like weary and like his tongue had gotten much bigger in his mouth, words thick with anxiety.

Rick's chassis whirled around to look at the employee as best he could, optic shutters narrowed, "Get th'hell outta the way, tubby!"

Every bit of color drained from the man's face at that moment, "Oh," he said simply, in a very quiet way.

Using his handles to push Craig's coat out of the way, Rick faced his companion, "Jus' push'im out of the way, he ain't troublin' nobody but himself."

"No. Noooo nononono, you can't go anywhere," the man nearly wheezed, looking a little faint, "I know that voice, I KNOW."

Craig made a pained face, not knowing what in the world that could mean. All he knew is that they had to leave before any other trouble showed up. He approached the employee with the intent on pushing him out of the way with all his force, but brashly, the redheaded man put his hands on Craig's shoulders.

"No you... you can't go out there, they're going to be searching for you, to do terrible, unspeakable things to you!" he raved, making Craig recoil.

"Get outta the damn way," Rick snarled, trying to hit the man with his handles with no success.

"Craig," the employee said, making the owner of that name flinch, "That's your name, innit? I know you, I know him. Believe me, I know what kind of trouble you're in, mate. More than maybe you ever will."

"How the hell do you know my name?" Craig breathed, blood already pumping adrenaline, ready to fight if necessary, "Who is 'him?'"

The man leveled a point at the core in Craig's arms, "Him."

The archivist had to struggle to keep his grip on Rick, "No. You can't possibly-"

"What a crock of bull-"

"Shhh!" Craig hissed, setting Rick down on the desk because his arms were shaking so bad.

"Rick Sargento, mate of mine while we worked in this bloody cesspool," the employee explained, "Gabbed on forever like a right motormouth about a guy back home he dated, named Craig."

Something didn't feel quite right about his story, but with a tired, hungry, muddled mind, Craig couldn't exactly place what it was. It must be the lack of a familiar human face, but just the fact that he knew Rick meant Craig was feeling a little more willing to trust him. He shouldn't, he realized; not that anyone making friends with Rick or listening to him talk saved him from the end he met. Still, figuring out just what was going on was ideal.

"S-Slow down," Craig asked, quickly brushing his bangs from his forehead wearily, "How... how did you know him? Who are you?"

"It's... it's a long story, if you'd like to... oh I don't know, stick around to hear it, perhaps," the man smiled just a little, feeling a little more confident now that the smaller man wasn't trying to hit him with a chair, "I'm, ah, well, Alvin. Everyone... well, I'd quite like it if everyone just called me Wheatley."

"Wheatley," Craig repeated, bracing a hand on the desk, "Craig Hurst."

"Ah, yeah, I... I know," the man laughed a little awkwardly, trying to break the tension, "Gonna take a guess and you've found Rick's Sphere."

"And his corpse," Craig's pink eyes leveled with Wheatley's coldly.

That got him to shut up quick. He directed his gaze elsewhere, looking bothered by the information as well. If the employee knew the details before Craig crashed into his office, it was impossible to tell. One would imagine that the reaction would be greater if he didn't, but Craig had just met this man; it was pointless to attempt to judge his emotions.

"I honestly didn't think I'd ever get to meet you," Wheatley broke the silence finally, gingerly moving toward Craig to take the chair back behind the desk, "Rick used to chat idly about dragging me and..."

He stopped suddenly and his shoulders slumped a little, "Dragging little ole' me back to the hometown, 'cause that's what mates do, yeah? Never thought any of that'd come true!"

Wheatley laughed an empty little chuckle and looked up at Craig again. Chuffed wasn't exactly the reaction on his face, not like Wheatley was trying to feign. Of course, the archivist had seen better days. Dark bags ringed his eyes and he looked paler than his already pale complexion; his hands were still shaking, though Craig didn't seem to notice. He didn't seem to be amused by the curious happenstance at all. Not that Wheatley could exactly blame him, considering the situation. For a moment, blue eyes regarded the singular green one in the room, almost warily, almost suspiciously.

"How... how long have you been here? And, if you don't mind me asking there, where did you find that?" Wheatley changed the subject artlessly, gesturing toward the core with a tilt of his head.

Craig winced, attempting to remember just how long it had been, since time got eaten up here ravenously, "Two... two days. I'm positive, yes."

"How did you get in, by the way? Don't figure they let you have the run of the place, unless they changed the rules since I got here...," Wheatley sat down at his desk and started fuss with some of the papers, but his attention was on Craig. It looked like he was used to just making himself look busy as opposed to actual work.

Unsure of just how far he ought to trust this man, Craig gripped the ID he was given in the parking lot inside of his jacket pocket, "I got in due to less than legal methods, you're correct."

"And the sphere?"

"I don't know," the blond answer honestly, picking Rick up in a somewhat possessive gesture like Wheatley inferred he would take him away again, "I went through a giant valve-release door and after coming across a few things that would give Eldritch abominations nightmares, I found some sort of room full of broken robotic odds and ends."

The desk worker went from staring at Rick, who had fallen uncharacteristically quiet, to watching the newcomer with open shock, "You got yourself rooting around the basement?" he asked incredulously.

'Basement' wasn't how Craig would have described it; 'Living Hell' might have been a more appropriate moniker. He stayed silent, daring Wheatley to prove him wrong with a cold, even stare. The employee raked his thick fingers through his already messy hair, looking like he believed the other man, but it was a difficult task, considering what he knew. His gaze fixed on Craig again and he opened his mouth, but promptly shut it when he realized something suddenly. A light bulb flicked on, and immediately he looked sheepish, like he ought to have realized this sooner.

"Two days, what've you been doing down there? Not much there to take care of yourself, yeah?" he said slowly, glancing over Craig's disheveled and exhausted form.

The answer to that was pretty clear, so an answer was not given. Wheatley motioned with both pointer fingers to allow him a moment, he pried himself out of his chair and skirted out of the room in a half-jog. Craig glanced down at Rick, who glanced back with a skeptical, knowing glance.

"What a fruit basket," Rick grumbled, "He's a few apples short of a bushel if y'ask me."

Craig's tired arms shook and he grunted with a little effort to set the core down on a stack of boxes so he could see the entire room, "He claims to have known you."

"'Ey, not me, him," Rick corrected, referring to Craig's now late partner, though it was already clear that they were one in the same, "I don't know shit about this guy an' I don't trust him far as I can throw'im. Wouldn't be very fuckin' far even if I HAD arms, lookit him!"

That earned him a frown and crossed arms, though the archivist wasn't any more sure of what to think of their new company. He had no reason to trust anyone or anything in this place, not even the core who sounded so much like Rick had before he'd left. A lot of trust was being pinned to a seemingly sentient metal ball who could just as easily be betraying him as anything else in this place. Craig was glad to settle for anything that did not try to kill him. Secondary traits of not wanting to turn the both of them in were also very positive and as long as Wheatley didn't come back with security, Craig was willing to trust him at least a little more than he already had by letting him leave just now. Not as much as the Adventure Sphere, but that was an entirely different situation...

So he took the high road, for Rick's sake, "We don't have a lot of options," the man pointed out, "If he's willing to let us—let me rest and nothing else, that's all that matters."

The core's optic shutters drooped a little, realizing just what Craig meant by that with a glance at the blond's face. He still looked like he was running on nothing but determination and adrenaline. Two days, don't humans normally eat sometimes?

"Yeah, yeah," Rick grumbled, "Guess you're right."

Craig gave the core an affectionate pat to the hull, "I'm not alone, after all. We will both keep an eye on him, correct?"

Before Rick could answer, the door opened again, the office worker blundering through the door again and hastily shutting it, holding a brown paper bag and an assortment of plastic wrapped vending machine goods. Alvin clumsily dumped it all on his desk and gestured to it with a proud smile, looking quite a lot like a puppy who had finally fetched the stick. Food. Seemed like Wheatley remembered the humans ate occasionally, too. That was the last thing on Craig's mind, but it was likely the first thing his body needed. A sudden ache blossomed in his stomach, like his body was finally allowing itself to catch up with how bad it had been neglected over the past several days.

"Even I know there couldn't possibly be much in the basement that might look like food," Wheatley explained, offering the paper bag to his new guest, "Would hope you'd be smart enough to leave it be if it did, haha, might... turn you into a nightlight or worse...!"

His laugh was insincere because they both knew that to be a little too true for comfort. Cautiously, Craig took the paper bag and opened it, seeing a small packed lunch, a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and a little plastic bag full of what looked like popcorn; it must have been Wheatley's and now he was offering it to a complete stranger. It was kind and in Craig's completely deprived state, it was wonderfully benevolent. However, it raised some likely ill-placed suspicion.

"This is yours," he stated flatly, as though he was about to decline.

Both desk jockey and metal sphere glanced at the stubborn blond with mild disbelief. Wheatley picked up several of the plastic wrapped cupcakes and crackers, waving them at Craig dismissively.

"Oohh no, mate, you're... well, I suppose calling you a guest isn't quite right, ah... irregardless, there's plenty for both, yeah?" he shrugged and pulled open one of the packages clumsily.

The only minor annoyance at the poor vocabulary spoke volumes of just how tired Craig happened to be. He could give no more argument and shakily sat on the tile floor at the foot of the boxes where he'd set Rick down. There were a lot of questions that needed to be asked, but Craig pushed them aside in favor of opening up a peanut butter sandwich. The sudden scent made his stomach growl ferociously and he barely realized he'd wolfed the whole thing down. Just a little bit of food suddenly made the hunger pangs worse and he made short work of at least three packages of crackers and the popcorn.

"...Better?" Wheatley asked tentatively, "Looks like you enjoyed it, anyway."

Craig held up the apple that was left in the paper bag, rubbing it on the knee of his slacks, "Yes," he said quietly, focused more on the red skin of the fruit than the employee speaking to him, "...thank you," he added as an afterthought.

There was a small, disdainful scoff above him, coming from the curiously quiet Adventure Sphere. The archivist glanced above him for a moment, but winced at the eyeful of light he got. He rubbed his eyes, a yawn threatening to bubble up at the very same moment. Threat of getting caught had shoved all thoughts of sleeping more out of his head; not that he ever thought he had a lot of time anyway. Now that his body deemed all threats gone, it was attempting to shut back down. Unfortunately, Craig didn't quite trust Alvin Wheatley the disloyal Aperture employee anymore than Rick did. He simply knew how to keep up appearances. It was important to stay awake.

He looked at the apple again, "Apples, oranges, pears, plums," he murmured to himself, listing off all the fruit he could think of, "Kumquats, tangerines, lemons, limes, avocados, tomatoes, bananas..."

"You say something?" Wheatley piped up, "Not a talkative fellow, are you? Maybe I heard things, you never know."

"I'm attempting to stay awake," Craig said without thinking, stopping when he realized that he let on his intentions without meaning, "...Did you know that avocados have the highest fiber and calories of any other fruit?"

The feeble attempt to change the subject seemed to go over well, since Wheatley pushed his glasses up his noses, trying to cover up a confused expression.

"A fruit are they? Not sure you're right there, doesn't taste much like a fruit, now does it?"

Rick peered over the edge of the boxes down at his companion, "Y'can sleep if ya wanna, darlin', I'll keep an eye on things an' all," he informed him with a flick of his handlebars to the man at the desk.

Craig stared straight ahead for a moment, but decided that it was only for the best. Staying awake was stubborn and unhelpful in this situation. And he was just... very tired. Eventually, he stood and set the apple on the desk, shooting a quarter of a smile at Wheatley that didn't reach his eyes.

"I need to rest," he murmured again, picking up his jacket and settling down next to the supply cabinet.

"Ah... alright then," Wheatley said, moving to stand and immediately sat back down when Craig got comfortable, "Don't mind me then, won't hear a peep. Nothing at all, won't bother you."

He only got a nod in response. Wheatley glanced at the Adventure Sphere, who narrowed his shutters at him. His shoulders drooped and he looked over at Craig, the bags under his eyes much more obvious now that the archivist took off his glasses and placed them in his jacket pocket. A wave of guilt and pity was rolling through the man, two personalities in this room to whom he owed a lot of explanations. It was going to be a very long day.

"...Sleep well, then," he spoke up again, wincing in regret when Craig stirred because of it.

When the blond stopped moving, Wheatley opened up a drawer in his desk as quietly as he could. He fished around the bottom until he pulled out a flash drive. It was dropped on his desk like it was too hot to handle; in reality, he just didn't want to touch it. It felt wrong, like it was cursed or something similarly sinister. Wheatley picked up the apple Craig left and worried about the consequences of that flash drive while Rick watched him and Craig slept.