Sage and Parsley

.

He hasn't left her side, not once. He has been taking care of her to the best of his abilities, and yet it didn't seem like it was helping. It almost made him feel useless.

For days now, she's been making sounds that Wheatley has never heard before. Strange sounds coming from chest, her nose, and her mouth. Heck, the poor girl couldn't even speak her voice was so wrecked. He'd be lying if he wasn't afraid for her.

Not knowing much about humans was really hitting him hard since Chell became ill. He could do very little other than keep tissues around for her, put some vapor rub on her chest, and bring her water. He knew nothing about human viruses-- illnesses is what they called them; he only knew how to assist her with what she needed and when she needed it.

He sat on the bed, dressed in his cozy fluffy maroon pj pants and his white and blue striped tank top with his fluffy blonde hair messier than ever. He gently adjusted the cold washcloth on her forehead, smiling lightly as he noticed her sleeping face.

Such a gentle expression. No longer in pain or hardened by memories of what used to be in That Place. Nothing but peace and when she was in peace, so was he.

"Oh Chell... What can I do, huh?" He asked in a hushed whisper, stroking her hair from her face. "Just tell me, luv, what do I have to do to make this go away."

Met with silence obviously, he sighed and withdrew his hand from her flushed cheek. He was trying so hard to help her fight what ever virus was causing her so much agony, but he felt like he was failing her. Laying down in bed next to her, he rest his hands on his stomach and stared at the ceiling.

It was times like this where he regretted not being a core. At least he had access to information that would help in some way. Aside from knowing jack all about human illness, he did know that they were able to feel better with proper medication.

As wonderful as Eaden was, pharmaceutics was a thing of the past-- literally. Good luck finding that in a bloody post-apocalyptic society. The lady with the mean eyebrows was too intimidating to ask for help, Romy was too busy with her children... All of the people Wheatley thought could help were moreso busy with their own lives... Not that he bothered asking anybody. He wanted to prove to Chell that he could care for her like a real companion. Even if it meant doing unknown things on his own! You gotta start somewhere, he thought.

Sitting up in bed and walking out of the bedroom silently, he thought long and hard. As far as any useful information went, the most he has access to was an old herb identification book they scavenged together, some cans of condensed soups, and fresh picked basil from their tiny garden in the back.

...

Wait! That's just what he needed!
His stratospheric blue eyes were practically glowing as he thought of the perfect idea. He would take it upon himself to make a cure-all for Chell! It couldn't be that hard, its simple really! Identifying herbs, cooking some soup, and putting some basil in it! How hard could it be?

***

Wheatley sat in the middle of the wheat field not too far from their little home. He watched as the stalks swayed carelessly in the gentle breeze, as if giving him some sort of pointers on what to do.

It's been an hour since he set out on his grand journey and he had found no other vegetable other than some wild onions. Those can be added to soups, right? Just run 'em under some water, chop 'em up, and toss the little buggers in.

He sighed, looking up at the stars. He didn't mind the company of the bright little lights above his head that shined. Even the moon, as scary as she was, seemed to be much softer so far away from him.