Troubled Mind

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Roena kept her eyes on the ground as she trailed her team through the snowy wilderness of Midreland. The cold, crisp air was refreshing at first, but that was nearly half an hour ago and Roena’s lungs had begun to burn with each inhale. The sunlight illuminated each exhale that managed to make it through the collar of her coat. She was never a fan of hiking, despite growing up in the nooks and crannies of the Appalachian Alliance, but Torchlight’s recon teams were often sent into territories that were less than accessible unless on foot.

A clearing in the trees snapped Roena out of her trance as the dead leaves she once trampled on turned into hard, broken concrete. Looking up just in time to stop herself from running into the back of the team’s tech support, James Marlow, who had stopped in toe with Lieutenant Sanders, their commanding officer, Roena finally realized her surroundings.

“This is it?” Roena found herself unimpressed at the rubble of a building that sat before her. Sagging and broken concrete, rusted-to-nothing signage, with kudzu vines that nearly swallowed the whole thing, Roena was unimpressed at what was supposed to be one of the only remaining pieces of evidence of civilization before the Combine’s arrival.

“This is it.” Sanders spat back, almost annoyed at Roena’s question.

“What did you expect, a red carpet?” Marlow quipped, nudging Roena’s arm. She scoffed before readjusting her jacket and ensuring her med kit was still strapped to her hip securely. As the group began to move in, Roena examined some of the rubble and noticed the ever-so-faint markings of a logo. Admittedly, she had only halfway listened to the briefing on the history of Aperture Science, but somehow, she had expected something more.

As the team made their way into the building’s remains, Sanders motioned for them to don their gasmasks, “We have no idea what could be down here,” he warned. Roena pulled the strap tightly over her head as the facility swallowed them whole. The morning light had completely disappeared as they made their way down the elevator shaft via grapple hooks. Roena peered down, the shaft seemed to go on for miles. As they descended, Marlow was fixated on his screen, reading each quick-scan of the levels they passed. Each floor had an eerily open floor plan, the walls were so far from the shaft that it seemed the cubicles went on for miles. As if these rooms never ended, everything was shrouded in thick fog and darkness.

About 30 stories down, Marlow finally piped up. “Stop here,” He aimed his scanner to focus on a far-off corridor. “That way.” He finished after a pause. The group carefully ventured into the darkness, their headlamps and flashlights illuminating the debris that littered the floor. The place was nothing short of a mess.

===

After a long while walking past offices upon offices, the three eventually came to a massive door. Glancing at each other for a moment, Sanders reached for the handle. He shook at it but was unsuccessful in actually opening it.

“This might help,” Marlow snarked. Both Roena and Sanders whipped their head around to see Marlow tinkering with a scanner on the wall adjacent to the door. Sanders shot Marlow a look as the lock inside the door shifted. Marlow smirked back at him as Sanders pushed the door open to reveal a gaping room full of what looked like shipping containers. Each box was marked with information on what type of materials was inside. Mustering up some courage, Roena walked up to one of the boxes to read the info. She traced her fingers over the thick layer of dust, barely able to make out the words.

“Name… Sex… Build…” Roena’s confusion grew with each word before realization hit her like a truck. “These are…” She trailed off, a little too horrified at what was displayed in front of her to finish her thought.

“Yup.” Marlow said lowly. “But I’m not getting any signs of life, just organic matter for what looks like at least 500 meters.”

“Bunch‘a flippin’ vegetables.” Sanders started plainly, crossing his arms.

What a grim sight this was, and who knows if the bodies were properly preserved at all.  “Sam… this one’s name was Sam.” Roena said solemnly. Roena continued down the line. “Abigail… Nathaniel…” Roena started to choke on her words as she continued. She took several steps back before running into the railing on the other side of the walkway.

“C’mon Doc, we’ve got places to be,” Marlow comforted, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently.

A long walk later, the team finally reached the back of the human storage room and found themselves at a awe-strikingly large vault door. Sanders and Marlow split to flip the switches on opposite sides of the vault, leaving Roena to watch the vault hitch and steam and creak open. Behind it was… a wall?

“Did they seriously make all this just to hide that tiny door?” Sanders announced, baffled. Roena looked around in confusion before her eyes landed on a regular, normal, sensibly sized door at the base of the vault. Roena and Marlow guffawed at the absurdity for a moment before composing themselves and making their way to meet Sanderson at the door. Upon opening the door, they were met with yet another corridor. Sanderson let out an exasperated sigh as the other two followed him in. The first door on the left had been left ajar, Roena noticed that most of the doors in this hallway had been opened. Peering into the room, it seemed to be a very small office with a window as the far wall. Two monitors hung on the wall and a chair was knocked over onto the ground. A single clipboard lay on the desk. Curious about the window, Roena ventured in and peered through the warped glass.

“Miller, what are you doing?” Sanders interrogated from the doorway. “You’re supposed to keep close.”

“I’m just looking…” She answered. Roena’s eyes were fixed on what looked like a smaller sleeping pod. Though it was dark, Roena was sure she could figure out the obscured silhouette of someone in there. Call it intuition, curiosity, or just a plain gut feeling, Roena called Marlow over to scan the room. As he approached, the screen of his handheld glowed that bright blue of cold, dead air.

“No signs,” Marlow started. “Did you think you saw something?”

“I think there's someone in that pod.” Roena said, determined. Her eyes were fixed on the pod as if she were scolding it to life.

“Maybe, but they’ve gotta be long gone like everyone else back there.” Marlow placed a hand on Roena’s shoulder to try and pull her attention away for even just a moment. This was unsuccessful of course. Roena turned for only a moment to steal the scanner from Marlow’s neck. Marlow exclaimed as Roena fervently refreshed the scan, making sure to set the parameters for signs of life exceedingly low.

As the scan finished, Roena saw a tiny flash of red flicker onto the screen. “HA!” She shouted, pointing to the red splotch.

“That doesn’t mean anything, you set the search data so low that it would read a piece of driftwood as a sign of life. Theres nothing in there,”

“I swear to you someone is in there.” Roena glared at Marlow as Sanders walked into the doorframe, a bit exasperated. Marlow held Roena’s gaze before looking to Sanders. Sanders shrugged.

“She would know, wouldn’t she?” Sanders sighed as he stepped toward the two. Reaching behind him, Sanders pulled his fire axe from it’s holster and readied himself. “Out of the way…” Marlow and Roena quickly jumped back to let their Lieutenant take a swing at the glass.

CRASH!

One hit, the glass cracks.

CRASH!

Two hits, the glass cracks even more.

CRASH!

Three hits, we’re making progress now.

CRASH! Tinkle tinkle…

Four hits, the glass chips away and flies into the room behind it.

CRASH! Tinkle tinkle tinkle...

Five hits, a good chunk of the glass just fell into the next room. Sanders decides this is enough and uses his gloved hands to break the rest of the loose glass away enough to let Roena through. He steps away to let her through. Roena nods a thanks as she walks by and takes a longer look into the room. There was definitely someone in there.

Unfortunately, the floor of the chamber was a bit too low for Roena to comfortably land. Embarrassed, she asked Marlow to go in first to help her down, as he was quite a bit taller than her. Marlow laughed, throwing his head back and grabbing his stomach at the situation.

“HAH! Suuuure, whatever you need…” Marlow passed Roena on his way in. “Shortie.” He mocked. Roena cursed him as his feet hit the ground. After helping Roena down, the two made their way into the class cage that stood in the middle of the room.

“Oh my god.” Roena’s face went pale as her intuition paid off. There was someone in there! Roena swiftly pulled out her Medi-Scanner to start running diagnostics on the body.

“I stand corrected, Doc.” Marlow admitted in genuine shock as the two glanced over the Medi-Scanner’s data display. “I’ve no idea how this person is still alive, but here they are.”

“Well help me get them out, then! This is a life we can save!” Roena pressed herself on the glass dome that covered the barely breathing person. Marlow pressed a few buttons on his handheld Tap-Hack and the glass dome came hissing off. Roena pressed her ear to the person’s chest and shushed Marlow, even though he hadn’t said anything. “It’s quiet and very slow, but beating. Get into my pack and get the stretcher,” Marlow did as he was told and quickly extracted the collapsible stretcher, setting it up swiftly.

“Male, thin build. Probably late 30s to early 40s from what I can tell. Looks like there was a bullet wound to his thigh.” A shimmer on his chest caught her eye. “Rattmann, Doug. He was an employee here.” She chuckled to herself before mumbling “Despite all his rage…”

After getting Doug’s weak and practically emaciated body onto the stretcher, Marlow helped Roena get the man up into what Roena assumed to be some kind of observation room where Sanders was waiting. Careful to avoid getting any glass in their shoes, Doug began to stir.

“Shit, hes awake already?” Marlow was on high alert now.

“Dammit, okay, just keep calm and let’s get him back to HQ.” Roena commanded. “This guy needs medical attention yesterday.” She said to Sanders, who quickly understood the assignment and led the way back to the elevator shaft.

===

The team quickly realized that getting Doug to the surface the same way they came down was going to be less than feasible.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Roena sighed.

“Marlow, do you have a scan of the infrastructure?” Sanders asked.

“Yeah, but it’s a little messy.”

“Is there another way up?”

“Let me check.” Marlow swiped the screen, checking for any possible way up that would work. After a bit, Marlow shook his head. “I can’t see anything. We might have to go back to the helicarrier to get more grapples.”

“I think that might be out best shot. Miller, how long do you think you could keep him stable?” Sanders adjusted his backpack as he spoke.

“That’s an hour’s travel at least. I might be able to…” Roena glanced at Doug’s sallow skin and reached for the medkit strapped to her thigh. Sanders and Marlow readied themselves to leave as Roena placed her Medi-Scanner on Doug’s chest to get a more in-depth reading on his vitals. His heartbeat had begun to pick up ever so slightly, but it was clear an hour would be pushing it. After some struggle to find a vein, Roena administered some saline to help his dehydration. “Keep your radios on. I can keep him alive for now, but stabilizing him will be a challenge. Make your trip quick.” She snapped as she took a small penlight to his pupils to make sure they acted correctly. When they didn’t, Roena made a note in the scanner to check back on later.  

“We’ll be as fast as we can. Marlow, lets get going.” The two men made their way up the elevator shaft as Roena kept her focus trained on Doug.

After a while, Doug began to stir and groaned ever so softly. Roena’s attention snapped from the screen to his face. He grimaced gently as Roena turned his head to face the ceiling and tucked some hair out of his face.

“Shh, shh… You’re alright, Mr. Rattmann,” She lightly hushed him. “If you can hear me, don’t try to move too much. You’re alive but very weak. Just relax.” Roena spoke slowly, attempting to soothe him a bit by gently squeezing his shoulder. The man had nearly zero muscle, she could feel the contours of his bones through his already thin clothes. Doug tried to open his eyes but even those muscles were too weak. Roena placed her hand on his head and gently brushed his forehead with her thumb as she kept a careful eye on his breathing.

As she sat there with the withered man, Roena studied her surroundings to pass the time. She eyed the aisle which they’d returned from. It was a dark, gloomy, stuffy office, with an atmosphere so oppressive it seemed to snuff out nearly all of the light that emitted from her flashlight, which she had pointed at the cracked ceiling to provide more visibility to the area. Turning back to Doug, Roena started to introduce herself.

“Greetings, Mr. Rattmann,” She said quietly. “I’m Dr. Miller, I’ll be watching over you while we wait for my colleagues, Lieutenant Sanders and Sergeant Marlow.” Roena shifted from sitting on her knees to sitting with her legs crisscrossed. “I’m not confident you’ll remember any of this,” she smiled, rolling her eyes and glancing away to the unexplored corridor on the other side of the elevator shaft. “but I hope it at least stimulates your brain some…” Roena trailed off as a small red dot of light caught her eye. It was gently pulsing on the back wall of the office. Unsure if she was okay leaving Doug’s side, Roena hesitantly leaned up to follow it back to its source.

Her heart sank to her stomach as soon as she realized what she was looking at.

The springtime sun shone brightly into the apartment that the soon-to-be-wed couple, Doug and Roena, shared. Inside, the smell of simmering tomato sauce filled the air as Roena stood at the stove, donning a floral apron over her everyday dress. Her dark curls were wound tightly in curlers in preparation for the evening ahead. Doug entered with a soft thud of the door, carrying a garment bag slung over his shoulder. His cheeks were pink from the cool air outside as he set the bag down on the back of a chair.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, walking up to her with a soft smile. “Dinner smells great.” Leaning down, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, earning a pleased hum from Roena as she stirred the pot on the stove.

“Welcome home, Doug. Did you get your suit back in one piece?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Pressed and ready for tonight. They did an excellent job,” he said, holding the bag up briefly as evidence before taking it to the bedroom. Moments later, she heard the bathroom door click shut, and the faint sound of water running followed.

Roena returned her attention to dinner, working methodically as she added the final touches to the meal and packed away leftovers for Doug’s lunches the upcoming week. Her mind wandered briefly to the evening ahead. A charity banquet wasn’t the type of event she and Doug attended often, but she wanted to make a good impression on Doug’s coworkers.

When Doug reemerged, his damp hair slicked back from his face, he caught her eye and grinned. “How do I look?” he teased, running a hand through his hair for dramatic effect.

“Like a man who’s about to get dressed before dinner gets cold,” Roena quipped with a smirk, though a blush crept to her cheeks as her eyes wandered. Roena noticed he had cleaned up his beard and now kept it at a charming stubble. Doug chuckled, disappearing into their bedroom to change.

Since the bathroom was now available, Roena took this opportunity to freshen up a bit herself. Upon entering, her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “Pits, nips, and privates.” She laughed softly at the memory as she cleaned up and removed the curlers from her hair. Her dark locks tumbled down in soft, voluminous waves, and she pinned them into place with practiced ease. Once satisfied, she returned to their room to apply her makeup and don her dress—a navy blue number with a daring triangular cutout at the neckline. The fabric graced her figure just enough to feel classy and trendy without being too uptight. She paired it with white lace tights, pearl earrings, and a simple strand necklace to complete the look.

Doug waited on the couch, his neatly pressed suit fitting him like a glove. When Roena stepped into the living room, he stood, his jaw going slack. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look…”

“Stunning? I know,” Roena quipped, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Rattmann. I’m quite the lucky gal.” She said coyly.

Doug stepped closer, his eyes sparkling as he took her gloved hand. “I’m the lucky one,” he said, peppering her face and neck with kisses. Roena laughed, gently pushing him back.

“Alright, Romeo, we’ve got a party to get to.” She grabbed her leather handbag, and they were off.

===

The Aperture Science Laboratories Charity Banquet for the Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund for Girls was held in one of the company’s sprawling halls, decked out in retro-modern decor. The sounds of smooth jazz music and lively chatter filled the air as the couple arrived, Doug handing a $5 bill to the donation box while Roena snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. The two wandered through the crowd briefly before Doug gravitated toward a group of coworkers, chatting animatedly about the latest advancements in Aperture’s experimental projects, while Roena made her way to the hors d'oeuvres table, her eyes scanning the offerings.

A voice interrupted Roena’s musings. “Running a bit late, hm?”

Roena turned to see a tall woman at the adjacent bar, sipping on a gin and tonic. Her white dress was crisp and sharp, adorned with a red neckerchief tied snugly at her neck. She had an air of authority, yet her expression was kind.

“Only fashionably so, of course,” Roena replied with a smile.

The two struck up a conversation, sharing pleasantries about science and Roena’s passion for medicine.

“You know, before Aperture, I got my bachelor’s in biology, chemistry, and psychology, yet here I am an assistant of all things.” The woman lamented, almost laughing at herself.

“You went to school and did all of that?” Roena was amazed, “I didn’t even think they allowed women to study all of that.”

“Indeed, I did, I made very sure that I wouldn’t become some potato in life!” She laughed “I’ve always been fond of the sciences, so I pursued what I loved, no matter who tried to stop me.”

Something about the strange woman’s words resonated with Roena. But, before she could respond, Doug appeared by her side, his hand resting lightly on her arm. “They’re starting the speeches,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”

The crowd gathered as Aperture’s CEO, Cave Johnson, took the stage. His voice boomed through the microphone as he read from an index card. “Welcome, valued employees, chairmen, and investors, to the inaugural Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund for Girls Charity Banquet!” The crowd applauded as he launched into a speech filled with his trademark bravado. After a long while of ramblings, Cave finally wrapped up with “But of course… none of this—and I mean none of it—could have happened without my wonderful assistant… Caroline,” he said, motioning toward the woman Roena had spoken with earlier. Caroline offered a polite smile as the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles.

“That’s his assistant?” Roena asked Doug in surprise.

“Yes, she’s very respected at Aperture,” Doug replied, clapping.

“Well, she’s a very smart woman,” Roena said warmly. “A wonderful conversationalist as well.”

Doug’s brow furrowed. “She’s what?” Before Roena could elaborate, Cave’s voice boomed again, announcing the charity’s impressive fundraising total for the evening.

"This year we have raised over $10,000 for the Self-Esteem Fund, with almost half of that being procured just tonight!" Cave exclaimed, to which the crowd cheered in return.

The rest of the night was filled with smooth jazz, a couple employees being fired by Mr. Johnson for getting too drunk and thrown out, and tasty slices of cake that Doug and Roena were all too happy to try out.

===

As the evening wound down, Doug and Roena made their way to the exit, bidding goodbyes to colleagues and new acquaintances. Just before they reached the door, a gentle tap on Roena’s shoulder stopped her. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Caroline.

“Ms. Miller,” Caroline said, her voice soft but firm. “I thought you might find it interesting to know that the Self-Esteem Fund doesn’t necessarily have an age cap… I know I certainly found it interesting.” She gave a kind smile as she and Roena shook hands before turning to Doug, thanking him for attending and shaking his hand as well. Doug blinked in surprise but managed a polite response. Roena and Caroline exchanged a knowing glance before parting ways.

“What was that about?” Doug asked as they climbed into the next taxi.

Roena smiled, settling in her seat. “Oh, nothing. Just… girl stuff.”

Doug chuckled, shaking his head. “If you say so.”

Roena sat in the dim light of her office, the overhead fluorescent bulb flickering faintly as if reflecting her wavering focus. What did Kari mean by her words? Was the Combine truly coming to take Doug, regardless of her approval of his transfer? Roena glanced down at her mess of a desk for a moment before her eyes settled on a single folder—Doug’s patient file. Her fingers traced the edges of the file as if its surface held the answers to her mounting unease. She opened it for what felt like the hundredth time, scanning its contents with renewed scrutiny. And then she saw it—a single line buried among medical jargon: "Extraction Status: Pending." Her stomach twisted. Someone had been in her files. Roena was surprised she hadn’t noticed it sooner.

The phrase was clear in its meaning, Doug’s place at Torchlight was temporary. And if Kari’s slip of the tongue was any indication, wherever he was going next wasn’t going to be a place of healing. Her breath quickened as doubt gave way to determination. She had to know more.

===

The medical database room was eerily silent at night, as much of the rest of Torchlight was. The nighttime ambience held a stark contrast to the bustling corridors the rest of the compound was used to during the day. Rows of tall metal shelves lined the walls, housing humming servers whose blue indicator lights blinked in synchronized rhythms. The cold, sterile air was tinged with a faint metallic scent, and the same green lights that lined the halls snaked around the perimeter of the room. Roena slipped inside, her ID badge granting her access to the restricted area with a soft beep. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she approached one of the sleek terminals set into a long counter in the center of the room. Each keystroke echoed slightly as she logged in with her credentials. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, her thoughts racing. A search for Doug’s name brought up an innocuous list of files—progress notes, therapy updates, medication logs. But nestled among them was something unexpected: a folder labeled "Rattmann Extraction." Her heart sank.

Opening the folder revealed a trove of documents, each more horrifying than the last. Detailed plans outlined Doug’s transfer to a Combine facility for "psychological breakdown and analysis." There were diagrams of restraint devices, lists of experimental protocols, and a clinical schedule that chilled her to the bone. A specific date caught her eye: February 27. Three weeks from that day. Roena’s breath hitched as she leaned back in her chair. The reality of Torchlight’s true values loomed before her, undeniably deceptive. She closed the file after downloading its contents onto a USB stick she had brought just in case. Her breath trembled as she slipped it into her pocket.

===

Despite having returned to her bedchambers to try and get some rest after such an adrenaline rush of a task, Roena had done nothing but toss and turn in bed—both physically and mentally. After too long, she finally rolled over to see that her clock read 5:03. Dr. Miller had about two hours before it was time to wake up Doug, so she decided to go check on him for a moment. Slipping her cat slippers and fuzzy nightrobe on over her pajamas, which weren’t much more than a baggy shirt and shorts, Roena proceeded into the halls of Torchlight. Once she arrived, Roena hesitated at his door. After a moment, she knocked softly to check if he was awake.

"Come in," Doug returned, to her surprise. His voice was faint but audible.

Pushing the door open, she found him sitting cross-legged on his bed with his Companion Cube at his back, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He was scribbling on a scrap of paper, lost in his own world. As she stepped closer, she noticed the details. His cube was now adorned with cat ears and whiskers. She couldn’t help but smile.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked gently.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Doug shrugged. "Plus, it’s… quieter at night," he murmured. “Too quiet… sometimes."

She sat down on the bed beside him, folding a leg beneath her. "I get that. Nights can be hard."

For a while, they sat in a comfortable silence, Doug letting Roena watch him doodle the night away. Then, Doug spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re going to take me away, aren’t they?"

The question struck her like a blow. She turned to look at him, her heart aching at the fear in his eyes. "What makes you think that?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

He shrugged, setting his paper aside. "Corporations like this… they don’t care about people, not really. Not when there’s something bigger they want."

Roena’s throat tightened. He had a point and he knew it. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Roena spoke. "You’re not going anywhere, Doug. Not if I can help it," she said firmly, leaning towards him for a moment but quickly backing away again to help keep herself professional. "You’re my patient. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, and dammit if I’m not going to do my job."

His gaze met hers, searching for truth in her words. "Promise?" he breathed quietly.

She nodded. "Promise."

===

After some more quiet time and breakfast with Doug, Roena returned to her office. Roena paced the floor, her thoughts returning to a tangled mess. The image of Doug’s fearful expression burned into her mind. She couldn’t let him down, but what could she do? Going against Torchlight’s plans—against the Combine—was unthinkable. And yet, the alternative was far worse than any rebellion.

The sound of forks scraping against plates filled the quiet of Doug’s chamber as he and Roena finished their breakfast. Torchlight’s artificial morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft, striped shadows over the room. She had started having breakfast with Doug each morning, a small gesture aimed at helping him feel more comfortable with her and his surroundings. Doug sat cross-legged on his bed, his Companion Cube propped on the opposite side of his bed from his nightstand. Roena was perched on the small chair by the desk, her tray balanced on her lap. 

“Another day, another powdered egg masterpiece,” she said lightly, gesturing to the scrambled eggs on her tray. "I was never a fan of scrambled eggs... that was unless my papaw was the one that made them." She gave a small chuckle, reminiscing on her childhood. Doug gave a half-smile, poking at his food with his fork. 

When Doug’s plate was empty, she gave him a small, approving smile. “You’re doing well, Doug,” she said. “Routine is important. Speaking of which, don’t forget your meds.” She slid a small cup containing his Ziprasidone across the desk toward him. 

Doug nodded and picked up the cup. Roena made a point of watching him as he tipped the pills into his mouth and took a sip of water, visibly swallowing. Satisfied, she smiled. “I’ll take these to the cafeteria,” she said, stacking the trays and standing up. “I’ll be back later after I finish some paperwork and check on a few other patients. Try to get some rest, okay?”

Roena waited just long enough to see him nod before she left the room, balancing the trays in her hands as she made her way down the hall.

===

The cafeteria bustled with activity—staff grabbing their meals and chatting over steaming cups of coffee. Roena weaved through the crowd, setting the trays on the return counter before heading toward the exit. Before she could leave, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the elusive Dr. Miller.” Marlow, dressed in his standard technician’s uniform, leaned casually against a pillar, a teasing grin on his face.

Roena rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve been busy, Marlow. Some of us have actual work to do.”

Marlow raised an eyebrow. “Busy having breakfast with your favorite little patient every morning?” he quipped. “You know, people are starting to talk.”

“Oh, please,” Roena shot back, though a slight blush crept up her cheeks. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Sure you are,” Marlow teased, uncrossing his arms and placing them on his hips. “But if you’re to spend all your time with him, what about your other patients?”

Roena smirked. “Didn’t I see you chatting up Charity? Y'know, that blonde bombshell of a lunch lady?”

Marlow’s grin faltered for a moment before he laughed. “Hey you didn’t see a thing, I’m just trying to get some cheaper lunches… thats all it is,” he deflected as he looked away. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Just don’t work too hard now, alright medic?”

“Whatever you say, Sarge,” Roena replied, giving him a playful wave as they went their separate ways.

===

Back in her office, Roena sank into her chair with a sigh. The desk was chaosed with medical reports and charts, but it was an organized chaos. She reached for a pen and began reviewing the latest updates on the other patients’ and Doug’s condition, her focus sharp despite the lingering smile from her exchange with Marlow.

A knock at her door broke her concentration. Roena looked up to see Professor Kari, the CEO’s administrative assistant and Roena’s sorority sister from her college days, standing in the doorway. The older woman’s expression was a sensible smile, but curious.

“Dr. Miller, do you have a moment?” Kari asked.

“Of course,” Roena replied with a smile, setting down her pen. “I’ll always make time for a fellow Delta Nu. What can I do for you, sister?” 

Kari stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “I wanted to check in on you and your work, I feel it has been far too long since we’ve just chatted. How are things in the medical wing?”

Roena beamed, happy to see an old friend. “Things are going well. I have my staff doing most of the care for the temporary patients so that I can focus on Mr. Rattmann. He’s been making some good progress,” she said cheerfully. “It’s slow, but I’ve been taking measures to make him comfortable here.”

“How nice!” Kari exclaimed. “I’ve gotten word of your absence during the breakfast hour, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t too swamped in your work.”

“Oh no, I’m just fine!” Roena laughed. “I’ve been taking my breakfast hour with Mr. Rattmann most mornings as part of my method to help him out of his shell.”

“Are you sure its just most mornings, Roena?” Kari teased. “I haven’t seen you eating meals in the cafeteria in at least two weeks.”

“Has it been that long?” Roena leaned back in her chair, attempting to recall the recent mornings. 

“Yes! At least it feels that way,” Kari also leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “Are you totally sure that its just for his therapy? Word gets around, you know.” Kari teased. 

“Goodness, you sound like Marlow. Is it really that bad that I take an interest in my patient? Isn’t that my job, after all?” Roena chuckled and held her hand up to her face, cupping her cheek. 

“Sure it is, but… you seem to be going a little further than above and beyond for your little lab rat. Are these lengths totally necessary?” Kari lowered her voice, as if gossiping. 

Roena’s cheeks flushed as she rolled her eyes and smiled playfully. “I believe they are,” she said. “The end justifies the means, doesn’t it? Everything I’ve done is therapeutic, so what if I take a little bit longer during his psych evals just to chat?” Roena took a sip of her water dismissively.

Kari chuckled. “Well, I hope he enjoys his time with you, god knows he won’t be getting so personal with the Combine’s medical team.” Kari sighed before she realized what she had just said.

“…What?” Roena had froze, staring wide-eyed at Kari. The room was silent for a moment before Kari spoke.

“I… I’ve said too much. I should-“ Before Kari could finish, the door swung open as Torchlight’s CEO entered the room.

“Kari, we’ve got a meeting with Financial in 5,” he said, his tone brisk.

Kari nodded quickly, stepping out of the room. Roena’s gaze locked with the CEO’s, her expression distant and distrustful. He held her stare for a moment before shutting the door behind him, leaving Roena alone with her racing thoughts.

After an hour or so, Roena stood and made her way to Doug’s chamber. She was unable to shake the unease of the knowledge she shouldn’t have, but was grateful for nonetheless. She knocked lightly before calling to Doug, and waited for a response. When none came, she cracked the door open just enough to peek inside.

Noticing Doug wasn’t in his bed, her eyes darted around the room until she found him. He was curled up on the floor next to his companion cube with his bed’s blanket wrapped tightly around him, his breathing steady and peaceful.

A soft smile spread across Roena’s face. For a moment, she stood there, simply watching him. She felt a flicker of pride for standing up for him, to ensure he could stay here just a little longer.

The artificial morning sunlight filtered through the reinforced glass of Doug’s room; the sterile environment somehow warmer in the presence of Roena. She had started having breakfast with Doug each morning, a small gesture aimed at helping him feel more comfortable with her and his surroundings. Doug sat cross-legged on his bed, his Companion Cube propped on the opposite side of his bed from his nightstand. Roena was perched on the small chair by the desk, her tray balanced on her lap.

“Another day, another powdered egg masterpiece,” she said lightly, gesturing to the scrambled eggs on her tray. "I was never a fan of scrambled eggs... that was unless my papaw was the one that made them." She gave a small chuckle, reminiscing on her childhood. Doug gave a half-smile, poking at his food with his fork. 

Roena watched him carefully as he ate. “You’re doing well, Doug,” she said. “Routine is important. Speaking of which, don’t forget your meds.” She slid a small cup containing his Ziprasidone across the desk toward him.

Doug nodded and picked up the cup. Roena made a point of watching him as he tipped the pills into his mouth and took a sip of water, swallowing visibly. Satisfied, she smiled. “I’ll be back later after I finish some paperwork and check on a few other patients. Try to get some rest, okay?”

Doug nodded. Roena collected their trays and gave him a small wave as she left the room. Once the door clicked shut, Doug was left alone with his thoughts—and his Companion Cube.

He reached under his pillow, pulling out the pills he had palmed and hidden while pretending to take them. Doug stared at them for a moment before tucking them beneath the bed frame, where a small collection had started to accumulate. It had been a few days now since he last actually took his medication, and he wasn’t sure why he’d stopped.

Doug lay back on the bed, hoping for a nap, but sleep eluded him. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling. Then, a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Long time no see, old friend.”

Doug bolted upright, his heart racing. He turned his head, and there it was—the Companion Cube, exactly where he’d left it. Yet now, it seemed alive, its presence buzzing with a strange energy.

“You’re… you're back,” Doug whispered, crawling onto the floor to sit eye level with the cube. His voice was low, wary, but tinged with joy. 

“I never left, Doug.” The cube’s voice was calm and reassuring. 

Doug felt a rush of relief, a weight lifting off his chest. “I missed you,” he admitted. “I thought I’d never hear you again.”

The cube chuckled softly. “You just couldn’t hear me. But now, we can talk. Where are we? How long has it been?”

Doug explained everything he knew about Torchlight, how he’d been found, and the strange journey that had brought him to this place. As he spoke, a realization struck him.

“I don’t even know how they knew I’d be there,” he said, frowning. “I should ask Roena about that.”

“Another time,” the cube said. “Right now, tell me about her.”

Doug hesitated. “Dr. Miller?”

“Yes. I’ve been watching the two of you ever since I returned to you. She goes out of her way to make you comfortable, to protect you. Haven’t you noticed?”

Doug shrugged, his brow furrowing. “It’s her job, isn’t it? Rehabilitation and all that.”

The cube’s voice grew softer, almost conspiratorial. “Maybe. But some of her actions go beyond standard care, don’t you think?”

Doug leaned closer to the cube. “But… why would she care so much? I’m just another patient.”

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the small evaluation room, broken only by the rhythmic scratch of pen on paper. Roena sat across from Doug, her tablet resting on her lap, as she tried to keep her questions conversational and unassuming. She knew the art therapy approach had been their breakthrough—or as close to one as they’d come. Doug, guarded as always, showed more of himself through his sketches than through his words. Today, she hoped, might be different.

Doug’s posture was loose but wary, his knees pulled up slightly as he fidgeted with the corner of his notebook. His Companion Cube rested nearby, a constant presence in their sessions. Roena glanced at him, careful to keep her tone light.

“We’ll take it slow today,” Roena said. “I thought we could talk about some easy stuff today. How’s that sound?”

Doug shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Sure.”

“Let’s get started then,” she encouraged. “Where did you grow up?”

Doug hesitated, then mumbled, “Delaware City.”

“That sounds like a nice place,” Roena replied. The concept of the United States of America, let alone Delaware, was a long-forgotten memory these days. Roena was only aware of its existence from her research of the earth 2,000 years ago. “Did you live there your whole life?”

He shook his head. “No. We moved around a lot. My dad worked in construction—big projects, skyscrapers. We followed the work.”

“Sounds like you got to see a lot of interesting places,” she said. “Did you have any siblings?”

Doug’s pencil twitched in his hand as he started to doodle. “Just my sister.”

Roena noticed his focus drifting to the paper. His hand moved with increasing confidence, sketching quick, fluid lines. She didn’t interrupt, letting him fill the silence on his own terms.

“What was her name?” Roena asked, although not expecting much of an answer.

“Sethea,” He stated, a fleeting note of sadness in his tone. Roena got the idea he didn’t want to talk about her very much. She noted ‘Possible unsavory history with family.’ on her clipboard.

“What about school?” she asked after a moment. “Did you enjoy it?”

Doug let out a faint chuckle. “I guess. I was good at math and science. Not so great at gym class, though.”

“I can relate,” Roena said with a smile. “Did you go to college? What did you study?”

“Engineering,” he replied, his tone softening. “Solving puzzles was my thing for a while.”

“I had lots of engineering friends during my time in college,” Roena reminisced fondly. “Though, I majored in nursing and minored in psychology,” She added, hoping that sharing something about herself would encourage him to share in return. “Did you have any favorite professors or projects you worked on?” 

Before he could answer, Doug’s pencil stopped as he peered down at the nearly complete drawing. His expression shifted as recognition dawned. Roena leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “What is it?”

He hesitated, glancing up at Roena before lending her the drawing to observe. A man’s face stared back at her—strong jawline, dense brows, and a brash, confident smile. The sketch captured an uncanny likeness, and Roena couldn’t help but admire Doug’s skill.

“Who’s this?” she asked gently.

Doug looked to the ground, his eyes almost vacant. “Mr. Johnson,” he nearly whispered. “He was… the original CEO of Aperture. His face was plastered… everywhere.”

Roena’s interest piqued, but she kept her tone steady. “Did you ever get to meet him?”

Doug shook his head. “Not really. He was… distant. Spent most of his time in his office or… reviewing certain experiments.” His voice faltered on the last word. He recalled the last time Cave Johnson was ever seen in the facility. If the paintings in the lobby were anything to go by, Cave was but a shell of what he once was. Doug remembered shaking his brittle hand after the Artificial Consciousness Lab team had demonstrated some of their first prototypes; the personality cores.

“Experiments?” Roena prompted, her voice bringing Doug back to the present. But it was too late, Doug’s body language had shifted completely. He pulled his knees to his chest, turning away from her. His Companion Cube, ever his refuge, became the focus of his attention as he pressed himself against it.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” He mumbled.

Roena nodded, respecting the wall he’d erected. Pushing further would only damage the trust they’d built.

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “Thank you for sharing what you did. I know it’s not easy.”

Doug didn’t respond, shuffling back to curl up beside his companion cube. He hugged it close, burying his face against its side. Roena stood and quietly left the room, collecting the recording device and papers. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly before slipping out, her mind swirling with questions.

===

That evening, Roena sat at her desk, her tablet screen glowing softly as she typed to search, “Aperture Science, Cave Johnson.” The results flooded in, painting a picture that grew darker with every click. Cave Johnson had been a polarizing figure, to put it mildly. Aperture Science, under his leadership, had been a breeding ground for ambitious yet ethically questionable projects. Court proceedings detailed numerous lawsuits filed against Aperture: wrongful deaths, human experimentation, and missing persons cases tied to their so-called “innovations.” Roena’s stomach churned as she read about the droves of missing persons reports against Aperture and the inhumane testing reports of genetic manipulation experiments—some kind of “Praying Mantis Men” being one of the more grotesque outcomes.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. If this was the environment Doug had worked in, it was no wonder his mind was fractured. These weren’t just workplace stresses; they were horrors—he’d survived a nightmare. Roena’s eyes flicked to the portrait Doug had drawn. Cave Johnson’s face stared back at her, a reminder of the man who had spearheaded these atrocities. She couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of America would have been if just one of their research facilities operated like this. Roena was baffled at the thought of how Doug could have gotten wrapped up in all of this. Was he a bystander? A participant? A victim?

Roena sat stiffly in her chair, the weight of the conference room’s fluorescent lighting pressing down on her. Torchlight’s director, a stout man with steel-gray hair and a monotone voice, droned through the monthly report review. The usual topics came and went—logistics, resource distribution, personnel updates—until he reached the final point on the agenda.

“The Combine has responded to our recent report on Aperture,” he said, glancing at the screen behind him. A message from the Combine Command scrolled across the display, stark white text on a black background.

RE: APERTURE INCIDENT Request immediate transfer of the subject Doug Rattmann for interrogation and evaluation.

Roena’s chest tightened. Of course.

The director continued, “They’ve taken particular interest in the individual we recovered. They believe he may hold valuable information, particularly about Aperture’s classified projects. Specifically…” He cleared his throat, hesitating, as if reluctant to say the words. “The Borealis.”

Murmurs rippled through the room. Everyone knew the Combine’s obsession with the Borealis—a legendary vessel rumored to hold immense technological power, capable of altering the balance of their interdimensional conquests. Roena swallowed hard, her mind racing.

“Given the Combine’s directive, preparations for transfer should begin immediately,” the director concluded. “Questions?”

Roena raised her hand, her voice steady despite her anxious mind. “Has anyone considered whether this transfer is in Doug’s best interest? He’s still in the beginning stages of rehab, handing him over could set his recovery back significantly. Besides, he’s barely told me anything, I highly doubt he’ll loosen up for another batch of strangers.”

The director’s gaze hardened. “Torchlight’s priority is results, not some ex-engineer you’ve made your pet. If the Combine wants him, we hand him over. He’ll be in capable hands.”

Capable hands. The words soured in her mouth.

===

Later that day, Roena stood outside Doug’s quarters, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She hated this part of the job. Not the talking, she liked Doug, but the way she had to be the bearer of bad news. Finally, she knocked.

“Doug? It’s me.”

After a pause, his voice came through, low and distracted. “Come in.”

She stepped inside to find him cross-legged on the floor with his back against his cube, a mess of papers spread around him. His pen hovered over a half-finished drawing, lines twisting and overlapping like a maze.

“Hey,” she said, sitting down a safe distance away. “Busy?”

“Always,” he murmured, not looking up.

Roena hesitated. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

That got his attention. He put the pen down, folding his arms defensively. “What’s wrong?”

She took a slow breath, weighing her words. “The Combine is interested in any knowledge you might have about Aperture. They’ve requested your transfer to their facilities for  care and questioning.”

Doug tilted his head, frowning. “What’s… the Combine?”

Roena blinked. Just how long had Doug been asleep? She leaned forward slightly. “What’s the last year you remember?”

He furrowed his brow, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I think it was 2010. Why?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Doug… No wonder you don’t know who they are, you’ve been out of commission for about 2,000 years.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending. Then he laughed—a sharp, disbelieving sound. “That’s not possible. 2,000 years? How was there anything left of Aperture? Of… anything?”

“I know it sounds insane, but it’s true,” she said gently. “A lot has happened since you went into stasis. Let me try to explain.”

Roena spoke carefully, breaking down the major events: the resonance cascade at Black Mesa, the Combine’s invasion, humanity’s subjugation, and the eventual integration of Combine forces into what remained of society. “They don’t hold humanity in an iron fist like they used to, but they’ve integrated into what’s left of humanity. Make no mistake, though, they’re still in control.” 

Doug listened, his expression shifting between disbelief, horror, and faint recognition as the pieces started to fit together. When she reached the part about the Combine zippered Black Mesa into their ranks, he stiffened.

“They… absorbed Black Mesa?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Roena nodded. “Yes. Their technology, their research, their personnel. All of it. And now, they’re searching for the Borealis—a project that Aperture worked on. They want you because they think you might know something.”

Doug’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course they are.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. 

“When they requested a transfer, I pushed back because I wanted to ask you first,” she admitted. “Doug,” Roena continued gently, stepping into his path. “I need to know—do you have any knowledge of the Borealis? Anything that could help them?”

He froze, his eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, she saw something flicker there: fear, recognition, guilt. Then, his expression hardened. “No,” he said firmly. “I don’t know anything.”

“Are you sure?” Roena asked. “Your memory might be—”

“I don’t want to go,” he cut her off, his tone firm. “I don’t know anything about the Borealis.”

She steadied her gaze on him. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.” His response was immediate, but there was something off. After studying him for a moment, her heart sank. He was lying.

Roena let out a slow breath. “Okay. I’ll report back that you don’t know anything and that you’re staying here.”

Doug visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping. “Thank you.”

She nodded, though unease settled in the pit of her stomach. It might not have been the answer the Combine wanted, but to keep Doug safe, that was the answer she needed.

===

Roena returned to the conference room that evening to submit her report. The director waited expectantly.

“Well?” he spat.

“Doug has no useful information, no memory of the Borealis.” she said, keeping her tone neutral. “He’s not fit for transfer. I recommend we keep him here under Torchlight’s care.”

The director frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

The man regarded her for a long moment, then nodded curtly. “Very well. For now.”

As she left the room, Roena felt the weight of her decision settle on her shoulders. She’d lied for Doug—defied protocol to protect him. The Combine wouldn’t let this go easily.

Back in her quarters, she stared out the window at the bleak, twilight skyline. Though it was artificial, the Combine’s citadel loomed in the distance.

The hum of the medical bay's lights cast a faint glow across the room as Roena entered, clipboard in hand. Doug was where she expected him, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the small table she’d set up for him weeks ago. A well-worn sketchpad rested on his lap, and he hunched over it, engrossed in his work.

“Good morning, Doug,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him. His head tilted slightly in acknowledgment, but he didn’t look up. Roena settled into the chair across from him, her eyes flicking to the page in his sketchpad. A swirl of yellows and grays took shape beneath his trembling hand, lines fraying at the edges as though they couldn’t be contained. For a while, she let the silence linger, observing the way he moved the marker across the page. Each stroke seemed purposeful, even if the final image remained elusive. Finally, she spoke.

“That shade of yellow,” she said, tilting her head. “It’s pretty, what is it?”

Doug paused, his marker hovering just above the paper. His shoulders tensed slightly before he responded, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the light. From when you found me.”

Roena’s brow furrowed. “The light?”

Doug nodded, his movements hesitant. “It was dark. Except for… the light. And shadows. Everything else was… loud.”

She studied the chaotic arrangement of shapes and colors on the page. What had seemed abstract moments ago now carried a weight of meaning. The yellow glow could have been the emergency lighting from Aperture’s ruined corridors. The jagged, dark streaks might’ve been debris—or perhaps figures moving through the chaos.

“It’s your memory of the rescue,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.Doug didn’t respond immediately, his hand resuming its work. Roena shifted slightly, leaning forward to get a better look. “I’ve been meaning to ask about your drawings,” she ventured. “They’re fascinating. You always capture so much emotion.”

Doug’s hand stilled again, his gaze flickering briefly to hers. “They help,” he murmured. “My mind has trouble with… discretion sometimes.”

Roena smiled gently. “That makes sense. Art, like journaling, can help us differentiate between reality and fiction.” She gestured toward another page in his sketchpad, one she recognized from her previous visits. A simple heart in a box stood out among more chaotic images. “Like this one. You were missing your cube, weren’t you?”

Doug nodded, his eyes glancing at the companion cube that sat beside him. “It… kept me company when everyone else was gone.”

Roena took a mental note of the possible hint of his experience in Aperture. “When everyone else was gone?” She inquired. 

Doug shifted and stiffened, grimacing as his breath quickened for a moment. “Story for another day,” he stated.

Respecting his decision to remain quiet, Roena let the silence linger. After a bit, she turned her attention to another drawing she’d glimpsed before but hadn’t brought up yet.

“This one,” she said, pointing to a small, more composed sketch tucked in the corner of the page. “Is this someone you know?”

Doug’s posture stiffened, and he hesitated before nodding. “It’s… someone I never knew,” he said quietly. The doodle was a bust of a girl with dark brown hair and an orange jacket, her eyes closed. He drew her as if she was a deity to him.

“What was her name?” Roena asked, now noting a hint of the Aperture logo on her jacket. Upon looking closer, maybe it was a jumpsuit? Doug didn’t reply, his gaze dropping back to his sketchpad. Roena decided not to press him further, sensing that he was nearing his limit. Instead, she reached for a piece of blank paper from the stack on the table. “Mind if I borrow a marker?”

Doug blinked, clearly taken aback by the request, but he slid a black marker across the table toward her anyway.

Roena settled on the floor beside him, setting the paper on the table in front of her and began to draw—a sweeping curve, a series of soft, interlocking lines.

“I used to draw all the time,” she said conversationally, her voice steady as her hand moved. “It was my way of making sense of things when my emotions felt too big. Or when words just… weren’t enough.”

Doug didn’t say anything, but she felt his gaze shift toward her, watching as she worked.

“It’s funny,” she continued, glancing at him with a small smile. “I guess art is kind of like a bridge, isn’t it? Between what we feel and what we want to say.”

For the first time, Doug’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. He dipped his head, returning his focus to his own sketchpad.

===

Nearly a half hour passed in silence, the two of them lost in their respective works. Roena found herself absorbed in the act of creating; it had been far too long since she had let herself go like this.

When Doug finally spoke again, his voice was tentative. “Roena.”

She looked up, startled by the sound of her name. Doug was holding his sketchpad out to her, the page turned to reveal a new drawing.

It was a portrait of her, unmistakably so. The lines were still jagged, but there was a clarity to it that hadn’t been present in his other work. She recognized herself in the image—the soft curls of her hair, a serene expression on her face.

“You drew this… just now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Doug nodded, his gaze darting to the floor. “You’re… constant,” he said haltingly. “A quiet reassurance.”

Roena felt a lump rise in her throat, and she swallowed hard, offering him a warm smile. “Thank you, Doug. That’s… incredibly kind of you.” When Roena was young, she remembered being plagued with the artist’s curse—always the artist, never the muse. It was incredibly touching to have the roles reversed for once.

Doug had been quiet all morning, a contemplative silence that Roena had learned to interpret as more than just his usual reticence. He sat at the small table in the corner of the medical bay, eyes transfixed on his most recent drawing as though the answers to unspoken questions were written between the paper and ink. Roena, seated at her desk nearby, didn’t press him. She’d found that Doug spoke when he was ready, and trying to force the issue only made him retreat further into himself. Instead, she busied herself with updating Torchlight’s database, her fingers tapping softly against the holographic keyboard.

“Nurse Miller,” Doug said suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness.

She glanced up, surprised by the sound of her name. “Yes?”

He hesitated, his hands twitching slightly. “When… when you found me. Was there… anything else?”

Roena frowned, setting her tablet aside. “Anything else?”

“Something… something important.” Doug’s gaze didn’t meet hers, but his tone carried a rare urgency. “It… it would’ve been near me. A cube. Weighted. With a heart on it.”

Roena perked up at the mention of a heart. She recalled all the scrawlings of a heart in a box on the drawing pad she had given to him the week prior. Roena searched her memory of Doug’s rescue. “A cube?”

Doug’s head jerked up, his eyes locking onto hers for the first time in the conversation. “Yes. Did you—did you bring it back?”

Roena, still perplexed, continued. “I do think I remember some sort of cube next to your pod, why? Is it important?”

Doug’s expression crumbled. Pulling his knees up to his chest in his chair, he dipped his head down and crossed his arms across his legs. His breathing hitched, his body stiffening as he tried to contain his emotions. Roena quickly picked up on the signal that the cube was very important.

 “I’m sorry, Doug. We didn’t bring it back. When we found you, our priority was getting you out of there safely.” she admitted. “But, since it’s important, I’ll talk to Sanders and see if we can go back to get it.” Roena moved closer to him, placing her hand on his reassuringly.

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” she replied firmly. “Clearly it’s important to you, so it’s important to us too.”

Doug’s lips parted, as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he nodded, his jaw tightening as he fought to steady himself.

===

Later that day, Roena convened the team in the operations room. The circular table was lit with a holographic map of the area surrounding the Aperture ruins. Sanders, arms crossed and leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow as she explained the situation.

“We’re going back?” he asked, skepticism dripping from his tone. “For a cube?”

“It’s not just a cube,” Roena said firmly, her gaze sweeping across the team. “It’s important to Doug. He’s been through enough; if retrieving this helps him, it’s worth it.”

“I agree,” said Elias, Torchlight’s Recon commander. His calm, steady voice silenced any further objections. “Doug’s recovery is critical, and this could be a meaningful step forward. Marlow, how soon can you prep the transport?”

Sanders let out a heavy sigh but didn’t argue. “Give me an hour. Roena, prep your med kit.”

===

The journey back to the Aperture facility was uneventful, the ruined landscape eerily quiet as the team approached the entrance. The facility had changed since their last visit; the once-flickering lights were now completely dark, and a faint hum of distant machinery was the only sound.

Sanders led the way, his flashlight beam cutting through the shadows. Marlow followed close behind, muttering under his breath about “chasing after a glorified box,” though his tech scanner was already out, sweeping the area for traps. Roena followed suit.

“It should be near where we found him,” Roena said, glancing at Marlow. “You remember the spot?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marlow grumbled. “Down this way.”

The team navigated the labyrinthine corridors, their footsteps echoing against the metallic walls. When they finally reached the area where Doug had been found, Roena felt a pang of unease. The space was as they’d left it—scattered debris, broken monitors, and a faint layer of dust settling over everything.

“There,” Marlow said, his flashlight catching a faint glint in the corner.

Roena hurried over, her heart skipping a beat as she spotted the cube. It was upright, its familiar pink heart decal standing out against the stark gray of its surface. She crouched down, running her fingers over the edges.

“Is it… safe?” Sanders asked, his voice breaking the silence.

Roena nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s here.”

She lifted the cube, surprised by its weight but reassured by its solidity. For a moment, she simply held it, marveling at the connection Doug must have felt to this inanimate object.

Marlow peered over her shoulder. “That’s it? All this for a cube?”

Roena shot him a look. “It’s not about the cube, Marlow. It’s about what it represents.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further.

===

When they returned to Torchlight, Doug was waiting in the medical bay, his posture tense with anticipation. The moment Roena walked in with the Companion Cube in her arms, his entire demeanor shifted.

“You… you found it,” he breathed, standing slowly.

Roena nodded, holding the cube out to him. “We promised, didn’t we?”

Doug’s hands trembled as he took it, his grip gentle yet firm, as if he feared it might disappear if he held it too tightly. For a long moment, he simply stared at it, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps. Maybe even love.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he squeezed the cube in a hug. His frame completely relaxed into the cube.

Roena smiled, stepping back to give him space. “You’re welcome, Doug.”

The days following Doug’s gradual adjustment to Torchlight saw moments of quiet success interspersed with tension. Roena’s sessions remained a delicate dance—gentle encouragement balanced with the need to challenge him just enough to coax him out of his guarded shell. But Doug’s progress had begun to plateau. He spoke little, his days split between rehabilitation and restless nights. Roena had noticed how his mind seemed to wander during their walks through the medical bay, his eyes scanning the advanced technology with a mix of awe and wariness. It was during a team meeting that Marlow’s suggestion sparked an idea. 

“He needs something to do,” Marlow had said, absently fiddling with a damaged sensor array on the table. “The guy’s a genius, right? Give him a puzzle. Something productive.”

Roena approached Doug later that day, carrying a small, malfunctioning device Torchlight had salvaged during a prior mission. Its sleek design was unmistakably pre-collapse tech, though nothing as advanced as Aperture.

“Doug,” she began, sitting across from him in the quiet of the medical bay. “I thought you might like to take a look at this. It’s been giving our tech team a tough time.”

Doug hesitated, his fingers twitching as if wanting to reach for the device but held back by some internal conflict. His gaze flicked from Roena to the gadget, then back again.

“It’s… broken,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Exactly,” Roena said, leaning forward with a small, encouraging smile. “I was hoping you can help us figure out how to fix it? You don’t have to, of course…” She trailed off, giving him space to process.

After a long moment, Doug reached out, his hands trembling slightly as they closed around the device. He examined it with a careful, practiced eye, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“Power relay,” he muttered under his breath, “overloaded… maybe.”

Roena suppressed a grin. It was the most engaged she’d seen him in days.

Now, as he worked, Roena sat nearby, cross-legged on the floor, reading through her tablet. She kept a careful eye on him, her presence a quiet reassurance. It had been this way for days now—Doug working silently, his brow furrowed in concentration, while Roena stayed close but never hovered. Her approach had been deliberate; she understood that force wouldn’t work.

“You’re quieter when you’re tinkering,” she remarked, not looking up from her tablet. Her tone was light, teasing.

Doug glanced at her, his expression neutral. “Focus helps.”

“Noted,” she replied with a small smile, scrolling through her notes. “I’ll make sure to keep tossing you broken junk then.”

He didn’t respond, but she caught the faintest twitch of his lips—a shadow of amusement that quickly vanished.

The medical bay hummed softly as Doug continued his work, occasionally muttering to himself. Roena had become accustomed to these quiet utterances, half to her and half to no one in particular. He’d mumble through his process sometimes, the fragmented sentences a glimpse into the turning cogs of his mind.

“These wires… the corrosion spread deeper than I thought,” he murmured, holding a frayed connection up to the light. “But… possible. Replaceable.”

Roena glanced up. “Need anything for that? I can call Marlow to grab parts.”

Doug shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet.”

“Alright. You know where to find me if you do.” She turned back to her tablet but watched him from the corner of her eye. He seemed… calmer like this. More grounded. It was a relief to see, though she knew better than to assume this progress would be linear.

Later that evening, Roena returned to check on Doug. To her surprise, the scanner sat on the tray table, fully assembled. The casing gleamed where he’d meticulously polished it, and the power light flickered faintly, indicating it was operational. Doug, however, was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.

She stepped closer, careful not to startle him. “Doug? Did you finish it?”

He opened his eyes, blinking up at her. “It works. Needs calibration, but… it works.”

Roena’s face lit up. “This is incredible, Marlow’s going to flip when he sees this. He swore it was beyond repair.”

Doug’s gaze shifted to the scanner, his expression unreadable. “It wasn’t… hard. Just somewhat familiar.”

She crouched down beside him, studying his face. “You’re allowed to feel good about this, you know. Familiar or not, it’s impressive.”

For a moment, Doug seemed to consider her words. Then he nodded slightly, his fingers twitching as if still holding tools. “It’s… something,” he murmured, before hesitating, his gaze flicking away from hers. “I was always better at… art… than I was at engineering.”

Roena tilted her head, intrigued. “Art? Like drawing?”

Doug stiffened, his posture closing off slightly. “Just… something I used to do,” he muttered, brushing her question aside.

She didn’t press him, recognizing the subtle signal that he wasn’t ready to delve deeper. “Well,” she said gently, standing up and giving him some space, “for what it’s worth, you’re pretty good at engineering too.”

He didn’t respond, his expression a careful mask, but his fingers twitched again—a tell she’d come to associate with unspoken thoughts. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw gratitude there.

That night, as Roena updated Doug’s file, she added a new note to the day’s observations:

Doug completed repairs on the handheld scanner. Demonstrated focus and problem-solving skills. Showed brief moments of engagement during conversation. Revealed higher interest in art. Recommend continued use of similar tasks, in addition to art supplies, to foster confidence and routine.

As she typed, her mind lingered on the faint smile she thought she’d seen on Doug’s face. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind her why she hadn’t given up on him.

===

The next morning, Doug woke to find something unexpected waiting for him on the small table in his quarters: a simple doodle pad and a set of brightly colored markers. His brow furrowed as he approached the table, his hand hovering over the items as though they might vanish if he touched them. Picking up the pad, he flipped through the blank pages, his fingertips brushing over the smooth surface. Taped to the cover was a small note in Roena’s handwriting:

Thought you might like this. Something to keep your hands busy. —R.M.

Torchlight HQ was an architectural marvel built into the remnants of a forgotten military bunker. Its walls gleamed a pristine white, with veins of green light threading through corridors and workstations, giving it an almost bioluminescent glow. The green accents weren’t just for aesthetics—they symbolized Torchlight’s mission: rebirth, regrowth, and illuminating the darkness left behind by the collapse of civilization.

The facility was vast, compartmentalized into sections with distinct purposes. Labs and testing chambers occupied the lower levels, slightly reminiscent of Aperture’s sleek yet clinical design. Living quarters and recreation areas were positioned higher up, their layouts more utilitarian than cozy. Massive glass panels along some corridors revealed underground hydroponic farms where Torchlight grew food to sustain its personnel.

The team that had retrieved Doug from Aperture was based out of the Recon Division, housed on the mid-levels. It was from there that operations were planned to explore and salvage forgotten technologies. Though many of Torchlight’s personnel lived and worked together, there was a rigid sense of order—a necessity when so much of their work straddled the line between discovery and danger. Doug Rattmann was an anomaly in their otherwise structured existence.

===

Doug shuffled through the sterile corridors, his bare feet making soft sounds against the polished floor. A thin blanket draped over his shoulders, one hand clutching the fabric like a lifeline. He avoided eye contact with the staff who passed by, his gaze fixed on the glowing green strips that lined the walls. He found them oddly soothing, their soft pulse mimicking a heartbeat.

“Rattmann,” a voice called from behind him. He froze, his fingers tightening around the blanket’s edges. Roena approached, her stride brisk but not hurried. She was out of her usual lab coat, wearing a gray turtleneck and simple black pants. It made her seem less clinical, though her expression was as composed as ever.

“You shouldn’t be wandering,” she said, stopping a few feet away to give him space. Her voice was calm but firm enough to discourage argument. “Are you looking for something?”

Doug hesitated, his eyes darting toward the faint green glow of a nearby corridor before flicking back to the floor. “...Exploring,” he muttered, barely audible.

Roena raised an eyebrow but nodded thoughtfully. “All right, then. Let’s explore. But we’re staying in the medical bay for now. Deal?”

He glanced at her, surprised, and gave a small, tentative nod. Without another word, she motioned for him to follow.

The medical bay was one of the quieter sections of Torchlight, with minimal foot traffic compared to the bustling labs and conference halls. It was clean, almost sterile, but lacked the coldness Doug associated with Aperture. Instead of harsh fluorescent lights, the walls glowed softly with the same green accents that ran through the rest of the facility.

Roena walked slowly, allowing Doug to keep pace. “These rooms here,” she said, gesturing to a row of frosted glass doors, “are for short-term patients. People who come in with injuries or illnesses but don’t need extended care.”

Doug’s gaze lingered on one of the doors, his fingers tightening around the blanket as though bracing himself for something unseen. Roena didn’t press him, continuing to walk at a leisurely pace. As they rounded a corner, they came to a long observation window overlooking the main ward. Inside, a few patients rested on hospital beds, attended by medical staff in white uniforms. Doug stopped, his eyes scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

“We don’t get many long-term cases,” Roena said, stopping beside him. “Most of our work is focused on keeping the field teams healthy. But we’re equipped for anything.” She glanced at him, gauging his reaction. “That includes you.” Doug’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look away from the scene beyond the glass.

They continued down the hall, passing a small lounge area where two staff members chatted over mugs of tea. Doug’s steps faltered as he glanced toward the seating area, the faint hum of conversation stirring something in his memory. Roena noticed and paused, giving him time to process.

“You can stop whenever you want,” she said gently. “We don’t have to keep going.”

Doug shook his head, his voice quiet but steady. “Keep going.”

They reached the end of the hall, where a tall door marked “Rehabilitation” stood partially open. Inside was a gym-like space with equipment designed for physical therapy. A man in a black jumpsuit was adjusting weights on a machine, while another patient walked slowly on a treadmill. The green glow of the walls was softer here, creating a more relaxed atmosphere.

“This is where your physical therapy sessions will happen,” Roena explained. “It’s not as high-tech as Aperture’s facilities, but it gets the job done.”

Doug let out a soft, almost imperceptible scoff. “Aperture wasn’t… therapy.”

Roena glanced at him, catching the bitter edge in his tone. She didn’t push for more, instead letting the moment settle. After a few seconds, she asked, “Want to head back?”

He nodded, his movements sluggish but purposeful. 

Torchlight’s facilities, while advanced, weren’t built for prolonged patient care, so Roena had to get creative with Doug’s rehabilitation. His physical therapy was straightforward, focused on rebuilding his strength. The harder part was addressing his mental health. Their sessions often began in silence. Doug would sit on the edge of his chair, his arms crossed tightly, while Roena worked to coax even the simplest answers out of him. Over time, she learned that direct questions didn’t work; he responded better to quiet observation and subtle prompts. One day, as Roena reviewed his latest evaluations, she noticed a pattern in his responses. He never outright refused her questions, but his answers were clipped, often avoiding topics related to Aperture. It was a stark contrast to the moments he spoke in his sleep—murmured fragments of names, warnings, and pleas that hinted at the nightmares still plaguing him. She decided to approach him differently during their next session.

===

“You know,” she began casually, “Marlow’s been pestering me to show him how to make that lavender tea I bring you.”

Doug glanced up from his seat, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I told him it’s an old family recipe,” she continued with a small smile. “But honestly, it’s just something I learned from an old friend.”

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond. Then, quietly, he muttered, “It helps.”

Roena blinked, startled by the comment. “The tea?”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor.

She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m glad,” she said sincerely. “Small comforts can go a long way.”

Doug Rattmann awoke to the hum of fluorescent lights and the sharp, familiar smell of antiseptic. The last thing he remembered was darkness—a clinging, choking void punctuated by flashes of memories too painful to hold. Now, the world was blindingly white and too still.

A soft beep to his left drew his attention. He turned his head slowly, every movement a monumental effort, to find himself connected to machines monitoring his vitals. His body felt alien, heavy and weak, as if gravity itself was pulling harder than usual.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

The voice startled him. It was warm, but sudden. He flinched, turning toward its source. A short woman with dark purple hair stood at the foot of his bed, her expression neutral but her posture relaxed. She wore a black turtleneck under a white lab coat, her badge identifying her as part of Torchlight’s medical division.

“I’m Roena Miller,” she said, pulling up a chair beside his bed. “You’ve been out for a while—two weeks, actually. You’re at Torchlight in our Recovery and Reintegration center, and you’re completely safe.” Her tone was steady, practiced, as if she’d said these words a hundred times before. Doug stared at her, his brow furrowing. Safe. The word felt foreign. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, a hoarse croak escaped, followed by a coughing fit that wracked his already frail body.

“Easy now,” Roena said, grabbing a cup of water from the bedside table and helping him drink. Her movements were quick but not rushed, practiced but not robotic. “Don’t try to talk too much yet, your throat’s still recovering.”

Doug’s hands trembled as he held the cup, but he managed a small sip before leaning back, exhausted. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something familiar, something grounding. All he found was the sterile uniformity of a medical bay.

“You were in rough shape when we found you,” Roena continued, sitting back in her chair. “Severe dehydration, malnutrition, multiple untreated injuries, a bullet wound for christ’s sake…” She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know how you survived as long as you did.”

Doug’s gaze fell away at that. There was something in his eyes—confusion, maybe fear—that he did not want her to see. Why was he still alive?

Roena kept her eyes on him. “I’ll be your primary caretaker, you can call me Roena or Nurse Miller, whatever is most comfortable to you,” She elaborated. “My job is to keep your vitals regulated and keep that noggin of yours in working order. Are you able to give me any information on your medical history at the moment?” She readied her pen on her clipboard.

Doug turned his head away, his shoulders slumping. “Schizophrenia.” He managed to croak out. Despite such a shocking diagnosis, Roena could tell Rattmann wasn’t in the mood to elaborate further, so she simply asked if he had been medicated and with what prescription. After getting her answer, she nodded, thanked him for his cooperation, and bid him farewell. Roena figured it would be a good call to give him the space he needed.

===

Over the next several weeks, Doug’s recovery became a carefully choreographed routine. Physical therapy sessions, monitored meals, and daily psych evaluations filled his schedule. Roena was a constant presence, her approach balancing professionalism with just enough humanity to make her seem approachable.

Despite his initial wariness, Doug couldn’t ignore her determination. She never pushed him too hard, but she also didn’t let him coast.

“Come on, Rattmann,” she said one afternoon during a physical therapy session. Doug was seated in a chair, attempting to lift a small weight, his arms shaking with the effort. “You survived Aperture, you can handle a two-pound dumbbell.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t respond. He simply nodded and tried again.

===

The hallways of Aperture felt narrower on the way out, as if the walls were closing in, watching them. Every metallic groan and distant hum set the team on edge, their flashlights casting jittery shadows on the pristine yet crumbling walls. Roena stayed close to Doug, who was strapped to a makeshift stretcher Marlow had rigged from supply pack frames.

“Vitals are still weak, but he’s stable,” Roena said, her voice tight as she adjusted the monitor clipped to the stretcher. “We need to get him to proper equipment fast.”

“Then let’s pick up the pace,” Sanders said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned to Marlow. “Anything in here we need to worry about?”

Marlow snorted, his fingers flying across a portable tablet that interfaced with the Aperture system. “Define ‘worry.’ Most of the facility’s systems are either fried or dormant, but that doesn’t mean something can’t wake up and say hi.” He glanced at Roena. “Like, I don’t know, a psychotic AI or homicidal turrets.”

Roena shot him a look. “Very comforting, Marlow.”

“You’re welcome.”

Doug stirred on the stretcher, his lips moving soundlessly before he let out a low, pained groan. Roena leaned down, brushing his matted hair back gently. “You’re okay, Doug. We’re getting you out of here.”

“Roena,” Sanders barked, pulling her focus back. “He’s going to be okay, but not if we get stuck here. Move.”

The group pressed on, the air growing colder and more oppressive as they neared the surface.

“Wait,” Marlow hissed, halting suddenly. He pointed at a faint red dot that glowed on the wall across the room ahead. “Turret.”

Everyone froze, their breath caught in their throats. Roena’s hand instinctively moved to Doug’s stretcher, ready to shield him if needed.

Sanders motioned to Marlow. “Can you disable it?”

Marlow huffed, already crouched with his tablet. “If I can’t, we’re all toast. Give me a second.”

The seconds dragged on as Marlow worked, sweat beading on his forehead. Roena clenched her fists, her heart pounding as the turret’s laser remained as still as their breath.

“Got it!” Marlow whispered sharply.

The red laser blinked out, as a small, robotic voice echoed down the hallway as the turret powered down. “I don’t hate you.”

“Move,” Sanders ordered, and the team bolted past the deactivated sentry, their boots echoing in the cavernous corridor.

The surface hatch came into view at last, a beacon of salvation. Roena felt a rush of relief as they climbed the final set of stairs, the cold morning air hitting them like a blessing as the team emerged from the suffocating facility.

“Radio the base,” Sanders said, his voice firm but tinged with relief. “We’ve got what we came for.”

Roena knelt by Doug as the team worked around her. His breathing was still shallow, but the pale sunlight seemed to bring a faint flush back to his cheeks.