Chapter Text
Gordon Freeman had been alone on the tram that day. He’d barely even caught the damn thing, having slept past all seven alarms he’d set. In hindsight, he probably should’ve set more, but on most days six alarms did the trick. It probably didn’t help that he’d pulled another near all-nighter just to finalize a report for a test he’d missed the majority of on account of having to be at an entirely different test.
There hadn’t been anyone else on the tram, though, because no one else was usually as late as him. At the time, it’d been peaceful. A moment to prepare himself for the day ahead. He’d had a big test coming up, one which he actually got to take the lead in! That had been exciting.
A part of him suspected that had been Kleiner’s doing, though. The man was very quickly working his way up in the hierarchy that was Black Mesa, and his mentor seemed determined to pull Freeman along for the ride.
That in itself had been a wonder: How quickly Kleiner was climbing. Most of their coworkers would have a hard time believing the same man that was paving the way for technology capable of actually teleporting things, was the same man who would perpetually lose his keys in increasingly ludicrous places to the point it would incite a competition between Gordon and Barney, the two racing to let him back into his office first.
Just as the thought of Barney had crossed his mind that day, he’d seen none other than his favorite security guard and best friend. The poor guy had been banging on the door for some restricted area, a security checkpoint maybe, evidently locked out.
He hadn’t noticed Gordon, at least not before the tram had driven around the corner and out of sight. Even at the moment, Freeman hadn’t been sure why it was important.
Maybe some part of him had always known what was coming. How unavoidable it was.
Gordon Freeman wasn’t alone on the train. There were a few other people scattered about in the rather small car, each wearing the same dusty blue jumpsuit that he mysteriously was.
He certainly felt alone around all these people. Freeman wasn’t really all that sociable, and he’s been well aware of that. People can be unpredictable, loud, too much. He prefers to keep to himself.
Barney used to joke that not even the end of the world could change that. After everything that happened back in Black Mesa, he felt inclined to agree. Were Barney here, he may have even cracked some joke about how he knew it, that he was always right.
The people on the train all avoid eye contact, and the silence he’s always preferred has never felt so lonely.
With a sudden jolt, they come to a stop. Doors slide open and the other passengers get off without a word, although he does hear one mutter about not seeing someone ever get on. Freeman’s not sure if it’s luck that put him in the car with a visibly broken camera, or if the strange man in the suit planned it.
Up on the wall a ways away sat a large screen, proudly displaying none other than Wallace Breen, making some speech about what Freeman could only assume to be the name of the city they were in: City 17. Not that he cared all that much, it was clearly just overly cheery jargon praising the dystopian city the few people arriving found themselves in. Propaganda at its finest.
What he did care about, however, was the fact that it was Wallace Breen. The very same Site Administrator who’d pushed so hard for results that while Freeman was on his way to the test, well over an hour late, his colleagues were finally pressured into turning the anti-mass spectrometer to a higher frequency than they’d originally prepared for.
Of course, out of everyone who could’ve survived, Wallace Breen just had to be one of them. One of two. Then again, if he could’ve survived, who knows who else could’ve.
Freeman receives a rather rough push to his shoulder, and although the culprit is MIA, he decides it was the right idea anyway. No one pays him much mind as he quietly follows the crowd.
Well, no one pays him any mind besides some sort of drone, which hovers around his head for a few seconds before letting out a blinding flash, followed by a slight click.
The drone doesn’t fly away after taking his picture, so Freeman continues on his way instead.
While there aren’t too many other… civilians? While there aren’t too many civilians around, there are a lot of armed guards, bathed in various blacks and grays, armed like they expect an uprising any second, and robbed of any sort of identity with the gas masks they wear. The longer he stares at any of them, the more he feels like their eyes, hidden behind a voidless glowing blue, actually are staring straight at him.
It’s not until he’s passing through some sort of checkpoint all of the other people who’d been on his train did that he realizes that might not have just been the paranoia talking. One guard stops him in his tracks, although he can hardly make out any of what they’re saying due to how heavily the mask distorts their voice. The most he can make out is their vaguely masculine voice, which matches up with their general build. He’s unarmed, but assuming this guard is only taking him away for some sort of interrogation, he could probably take them in a fight. What matters more is what his plan of action may be afterwards. He’s unfamiliar with the building he’s in, in fact even the architecture seems—
A second guard appears from behind a door and gestures for him to come— no, to be led this way. The gate they’d previously been herding him towards slams shut, and the deep pit that had been forming in his stomach dissipates a little, though he’s not entirely sure why.
The walk down the hallway is quiet, although Freeman can make out the sounds of various conversations happening behind closed doors. Each have a slot built in, allowing someone to pull it open and peek out.
On one such door, he can see another civilian restrained in a chair as one of the guards questions them. So it really will be an interrogation, then. He just has to make sure he doesn’t get in the chair.
The hallway feels both too short and too long, which is rather paradoxical, and likely the type of description Barney would use about something. He used to share a lot with Freeman, including all of the stress and anxiety weighing on him. It always made him feel a little closer each time, happy to lend an ear to a friend.
He wonders if Barney ever felt the reverse of that, a gap between them devoid of any of Freeman’s own insecurities. He wonders if he ever saw Barney again, would he even be able to change that?
Another slot opens, this one at the end of the hallway. The two guards have an unintelligible exchange before the door opens and Freeman is ushered inside. There’s another exchange, although this time Freeman can make out the word “help” from one, and a firm denial from the other. The guard that had just been in the room leaves, and Freeman is alone with the guard that led him here. He offers only a glare as they stare him down for a minute.
Mumbling something about privacy, the guard heads to some sort of computer terminal and types away at it before what looks to be a camera slides away, hidden away by the ceiling.
“Now then,” They say, or at least that’s what Freeman hears. Their hands find purchase around the mask obscuring their face, and he finds himself wondering just how lucky he is right now. Only one guard, no cameras, and they're actively exposing the weakest— “About that beer I owe ya.”
Freeman didn’t need to see his face. It probably wouldn’t even have been as recognizable, considering a supposed 20 years have passed. His deep southern drawl, an inviting, strong bear hug personified, though now tinged with age, was undeniably the same. Familiar. Missed.
Barney sets the mask down on the terminal, his eyes locked on Freeman. The sheer amount of emotion just barely contained beyond his sea blue eyes say more than words ever could.
Gordon Freeman could probably count the number of times he’s ever hugged someone, or even been hugged, on just one hand. He’s not an especially affectionate person.
But he’ll make an exception, just this once, because Barney is his best friend and while Freeman hasn’t seen him since the Black Mesa Incident, Barney hasn’t seen him since before then, plus 20 years.
It’s a nearly bone breaking hug, although something tells him his grip is equally as strong. Surprisingly enough, Barney is the one to break away, immediately busying himself with wiping the tears out of his eyes. A few breathy laughs escape him, and it all just feels so perfect—
Too perfect.
Freeman has always considered himself a fairly rational person. He can also acknowledge that maybe, maybe grabbing Barney’s face and holding him gently, carefully, like if he doesn’t he’ll shatter the very illusion he’s living, and just analyzing every little detail, from the scare on his right cheekbone to the mole under his left eye for any discrepancies and just general memorization, may not be all that rational of an action.
But it drags a shaky, genuine laugh out of him, so maybe it’s more rational than he imagined.
“Ya’know, I’d been a bit worried ya wouldn’t’ve recognized me. Had a whole reintroduction planned out’n everything.” Barney’s hands slowly lift up towards Freeman’s own. His grin reaches from ear to ear. “Ya really know how to ruin a guy’s plans.”
Freeman pulls his hands away to save Barney the effort. It’s only been a few hours for him, but for Barney it’s been 20 years. There’s no telling what’s changed about him. About them.
‘I missed you too,’ He signs instead, and he means it. It feels like it’s been ages since he’s been able to properly have a conversation with anyone.
Barney takes a little longer than he used to to interpret his sign, but that same gleam of pride, mixed in with understanding appears in his eyes. Then some hair falls in his eyes and it seems to break him out of whatever thought he got lost in. In one fluid move, Barney smoothed his hair back into place and turned back to the terminal, typing away once more. It’s painfully reminiscent of his time behind a desk at Black Mesa, the unofficial receptionist based solely on just how long he spent trying to fix that computer for their actual receptionist.
“I’ve been working undercover in Civil Protection. You’re lucky I saw ya when I did, Gordon,” Barney peaks over his shoulder at him “They were trying to send ya off to Nova Prospekt.”
He’s… not entirely sure what that is, but clearly Barney expects him to. It must be well-known. A prison, maybe?
The computer screen flickers to static before slowly showing… a window? A bird flies by, confirming they are in fact watching a recording of a window. “Kleiner!” Barney calls out, and Freeman feels his shoulders tense up as he watches the screen in anticipation.
“Oh, what is it now Barney? I’m busy!” Kleiner, ever the man incapable of truly being mad, only sounds mildly inconvenienced in spite of his words. Despite having already heard his voice, it’s not until he steps into the view of the camera that Freeman breathes out a sigh of relief.
His eyes widen comically as he lands eyes on Freeman, even going as far as to rip his own glasses off and use his shirt to clean them off, as though it was the dirt that could've tricked his eyes into ever seeing Freeman when he wasn’t truly there. “Doc! You’ll never guess who I found.”
Even though he can’t see Barney’s face, he can definitely hear the cheeky grin in his voice. “Well I’ll be! Gordon Freeman, back from the dead! Er— Not that we believed you to be dead, Gordon! But, well, you have been gone for quite a while. Why, no one knew what happened to you after you went through that portal! And then there was that HECU—“
”Hey, Doc, think the two of ya could have this conversation at your lab? Have a nice cup of tea along with it too! Just, not, ya know, here? We’re taking enough risks as is,” Barney interrupts, holding up a hand as though he could physically stop Kleiner from talking through the screen.
“Right, yes! Gordon, you need to get out of there! Alyx is somewhere in the area, I’ll get in contact with her and direct her to you. All you need to do is get out of sight of Civil Protection and wait!” Kleiner’s every word is punctuated with various hand gestures that convey a nearly infectious amount of excitement.
And with that, Freeman was pushed towards a nearby door that he hadn’t initially noticed. He’s getting sloppy.
Barney looks like he has more to say, but before he can, there’s a sudden banging on the door behind them.
“Ya gotta get out of here before ya blow my cover Gordon!” He whispers as he pushes Freeman the rest of the way out the door, leading into some sort of unfinished backroom, its only decorations being a few crates and pallets. Barney seems to hesitate on actually sending him on his way, but eventually gives him one last push. “I’ll find ya first chance I get, but ya gotta get going now or we’ll both get caught!”
It’s an obvious reassurance, weak one at that. He wonders which of them it’s for.
The Door slams shut behind him with a deafening click, a lonely finality to the whole ordeal. There’s the faintest breeze blowing in from somewhere above, if the sunlight is anything to go off of. A ladder conveniently leads up to a platform where that window likely is.
Gordon Freeman is alone. Just like he always has been.
Like he always will be.
Faint talking can be heard through the door, although nothing Freeman can make out. Nothing he’d try to, either. Every second he’s still here is another second Barney could get caught, another second his best friend is in danger. He has to get going.
.
.
.
Consciousness came suddenly, painfully, and inconveniently, thanks to his head knocking against the floor abruptly. The arms stuck uncomfortably under his shoulders retract with a muttered curse, and Freeman finds himself being set down a bit more gently.
When he’s finally able to open his eyes, a struggle he’s relatively sure felt longer than it actually took, he finds himself face to face with a woman that’s almost familiar.
“Doctor Freeman, I presume?” She grins down at him, standing back up and offering a hand out to him.
Definitely Eli’s girl. They have the same gentle, teasing smile, punctuated by two dimples on either side of her mouth. He easily accepts her help.
A siren begins blaring in the distance, accompanied by some voice calling out a warning of some sort. The grin is gone as quickly as it came as she looks around cautiously. ”We better hurry. The Combine can be slow to wake but once they’re up you don’t wanna get in their way.”
Glancing around as well, Freeman finds a few Civil Protection soldiers knocked out on the ground. Just a ways away is a hallway he remembers entering, before immediately getting cornered.
“Doctor Kleiner said you’d be heading this way. I don’t think it occurred to him that you might not have a map.”
Right. He left Barney to enter the city, not really given any directions beyond finding someone named Alyx and reuniting with Kleiner.
Finding an actual path hadn’t actually been all that hard, come to think of it. He’d felt herded in a specific direction every step of the way, whether it was the environment around him, the people in it, or an inexplicable pull dragging him closer and closer to something unknown.
So this must be—
“I’m Alyx Vance. My father worked with you back in Black Mesa? I’m sure you don’t remember me though,” She ushers him into an elevator. The ride down is short, over as soon as it began. It just makes him feel rushed. “Man of few words, aren’t you?”
Alyx doesn’t wait, sliding through the elevator doors before they can finish creakily opening. She’s quick to dart around a corner, too.
“Remember him from Black Mesa? Your old administrator.” Right on queue, Freeman turns the corner and spies a large poster of none other than Wallace Breen. Despite everything that’s happened since Black Mesa, he doesn’t consider himself to be a violent man.
Breen, however, has a very punchable face. He’d like a word or two with his old boss. The man won’t need to know sign to understand him.
A breathy laugh. “Don’t get my dad started on Dr. Breen.”
She reaches a hand towards the electrical panel just next to the portrait, pressing an unseen button and revealing a secret door hidden by the wall, which slowly but surely slides out of their way.
“Through here,” Alyx instructs, holding the door open behind herself as she steps through. The hallway it leads into is narrow and long, not offering much else besides a second door, a lone panel resting on the wall beside it. “Funny, you showing up on this day in particular,” She muses as she types a code into the panel. He’s just far enough back that he can’t quite make it out.
Nothing of note lies in the room just behind this door, either. Freeman finds himself appreciating the simplicity of the area. He could use some more mundane things reentering his life.
Alyx walks further ahead, vaulting over a railing and saving a few measly seconds the stairs just a ways away would’ve taken. Freeman himself takes those stairs. “We’ve been helping people escape the city on foot,” She explains as they make their way through the building. “It’s a dangerous route to my father’s lab, through the old canals. Today, we’re finally on the verge of having a better way.”
She makes her way towards a vending machine with Breen’s name plastered in its top corner. A memory pops into his head of someone telling him not to drink the water, something about it “making you forget.”
“Here, let me buy you a drink.” Without waiting for a response, she slips a coin into the machine and presses several of its options in rapid succession, completing the whole routine with a few hits to the side of it. She then steps away just as the front of the machine swings open, revealing yet another secret door. “Oh, and by the way? Nice to finally meet you.”
An ambient, painfully familiar sound of clicking, beeping, whirring, and other general machinery greets him on the other side, the clacking of his own shoes against the tile accompanying all the other noises. The lab, because that’s the only thing it could be, is a lot more spacious than he would’ve pictured. But, then again, Kleiner had always had the neatest lab out of everyone.
Speaking of, he easily spots his old mentor rifling through a crate off to the side.
“Blast that little—! Where did she get off to?” Kleiner slams the crate shut with visible frustration, moving to peek into the dog kennel right next to it. “Lamarr? Come out of there!”
“Uh oh, everything alright Dr. Kleiner?” Alyx steps forward and peeks into the kennel as well. All Freeman can see is a dark, empty dog crate splattered with blood.
“Oh, hello Alyx! Things are, well, almost alright; Lamarr has gotten out of her crate again. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Barney of trapping and—” He takes a step back from the crates and begins scanning the rest of the lab for Lamarr, although he stops short the moment his eyes land on Freeman. “My goodness, Gordon Freeman! It really is you, isn’t it!”
Kleiner closes the distance between them in two swift steps, immediately grabbing for Freeman’s face and turning it every which way as if he had its exact look memorized and would know in an instant if he was a fake.
His grip loosens as he comes to the conclusion that he is real. That this is real. His hands fall away from Freeman’s face, landing instead on his shoulders. In an instant, he’s pulled in for a hug, the second one of today.
Freeman decides that’s okay. After everything that happened in Black Mesa, he could use a hug or two.
“I found him wandering around outside. Bit of a troublemaker, isn’t he?” Alyx says cheekily, and with that Kleiner pulls away, crossing his arms the way a parent might after catching a child reaching into the cookie jar.
“We owe a great deal to Dr. Freeman, even if trouble does tend to follow in his wake.” Ah, he is scolding her. Although, there is a noticeable lack of bite to his words.
If anything, the side eye Kleiner sends his way at the end of his sentence is the true scolding. Freeman hasn’t even done anything yet! He chooses to wisely keep that thought to himself, however. No doubt Kleiner would either find some detail in there to pick apart, or he’d just simply, kindly remind him of a particularly stupid moment of Freeman’s from however long ago.
No, he keeps his thoughts to himself and simply offers a slow headshake. The safe option. He definitely hears a snicker from the doctor as Kleiner passes him by, headed for the computer nestled safely on a desk just behind him. “I must say, Gordon,” He explains as he begins typing away at the computer. “You’ve come at a very opportune time. Alyx has just installed the final piece for our resurrected teleport!”
“I can’t take any credit for the breakthrough Doctor!” She holds her hands up placatingly, silently making a face at Freeman as she nods her head towards the doctor in question. It’s a gesture that easily conveys just how much she truly looks up to Kleiner.
“Nonsense, your talents surpass your loveliness.” Kleiner slides his glasses down his nose, seemingly trying to convey with just one look how highly he himself thinks of Alyx.
He’s not sure if the message comes across as clearly as Alyx’s had, but it’s the thought that counts. Alyx drops her hands. “Let’s just see if this thing works, okay?”
“Well is he here?!” Barney seems to scan every nook and cranny of the lab before realizing he’s very nearly run into Freeman already. He quickly turns away and scurries over to a nearby panel, clearly trying to look busy so he doesn't have to acknowledge his blunder. He completely misses the amused smile that worms its way onto Freeman’s own face. Probably for the best. Eventually, Barney does peek over his shoulder and back at him. “Man Gordon, you sure stirred up the hive.”
“Then there’s no time like the present to get the hell out of dodge,” Alyx speaks up, crossing her arms and leaning back against one of the many tables decorating the room.
“...right,” Barney agrees, although hesitation heavily laces his tone.
“That’s right!” Kleiner chimes in, seemingly having just tuned back into the conversation. “This is a Red Letter Day, Barney. We’ll inaugurate the new teleport with a double transmission!”
This does the trick, finally pulling Barney away from the terminal he was working away at. Instead, he heads over to Kleiner’s desk and rests his hands on them, leaning most of his weight onto it as well. “You mean it’s working? For real this time? Because, I still have nightmares about that cat.”
“Now now, there’s nothing to be nervous about!” Kleiner is quick to placate.
“What cat?” Alyx tries to ask, although she goes largely unnoticed. Freeman would also like to know about the cat.
“We’ve made major strides since then! Major strides,” Kleiner mumbles the last part, and suddenly Freeman decides maybe some questions are better left unanswered.
“What cat?” Alyx tries again. Kleiner shifts his attention to somewhere under the desk, an expert maneuver Freeman himself is familiar with using to escape uncomfortable conversations. Barney has no such trick, instead very obviously avoiding eye contact, or even looking in Alyx’s general direction. He avoids looking in Freeman’s, too.
After a few minutes of Alyx trying to glare an answer of out Barney, the man seems to have an epiphany. He slams his hands back onto the table and nearly leans over it to look down at Kleiner. “Wait, since he’s not– So if he’s not taking the streets– We should get him out of his civies!”
Kleiner attempts to stand back up to his full height, although he clearly hadn’t been aware of just where Barney was. The two collide slowly yet painfully, the former rubbing at his head while the latter cradles his chin.
It’s all Freeman can do to stifle a laugh.
“What?” Kleiner’s hand eventually falls away from his head, instead finding purchase on his chin as he attempts to parse out what Barney had meant. “Oh dear, you’re right! I had almost forgotten. Barney, I’ll give you the honor.”
Barney’s grin nearly stretches from ear to ear, and if fighting off that laugh had been hard, keeping this overly infectious smile off his face was nigh impossible.
With a pep in his step that Freeman hasn’t seen for forever, the man all but skips over to a garage door and types in some code to the panel by it. Without even waiting for the door to open, Barney ducks into the closet and loudly taps away at yet another panel. “Here we go…!”
Suddenly, light floods the closet, all focused on the centerpiece; an HEV suit. Before Freeman can properly acknowledge that, however, he notices a headcrab just above it.
It leaps down towards Barney, who’s quick to wrestle it off his face with a scream of a few expletives. Freeman finds himself reaching for a weapon that’s no longer there.
“Lamarr, there you are!” Kleiner calls out from elsewhere in the lab, clearly relieved.
“I thought you got rid of that pest!” Barney peeks out from the storage closet, eyeing the headcrab— Lamarr— wearily.
“Certainly not!” Kleiner chastises, easily striding up to Lamarr, who has since perched on top of some lockers right next to the garage door. “Never fear Gordon, she’s debeaked and completely harmless. The worst she might do is attempt to… couple, with your head,” He attempts to reassure, turning just over his shoulder to find the weary look still cleanly plastered onto Freeman’s face.
Lamarr makes a move towards Barney again, getting low the way a cat might before pouncing. “Get that thing away from me!” His friend wisely calls, although he steps further out of the closet and takes a steady fighting stance instead.
Freeman himself steps closer to Barney. Kleiner steps towards the far side of the locker and pats his head. “Here my pet! Up up.”
And up Lamarr goes. Up to the balcony just behind Kleiner, where she knocks into every crate, bucket, machine, and any other loose item laying around.
“No, not up there! No– NO! Careful Lamarr! Those are– QUITE FRAGILE!!” Lamarr, being a headcrab that likely lacks not only sentience, but the gland most mammals have that allow them to grow attachments to other creatures, continues hopping around until she finds the ventilation shaft, which she doesn’t hesitate to enter. “Oh fie! It’ll be another week before I can coax her out of there!”
“Yeah. Longer if we’re lucky!” Barney mutters under his breath, sending a smirk Freeman’s way. He offers up an overly serious straight faced nod of his own in return.
“Barney! You’re not an animal person?” Alyx sounds betrayed by the mere notion, and it manages to break past the ever weakening façade of seriousness and steal another breathless laugh from him. It’s a scientific wonder he doesn’t lose it entirely when Barney lets out an obnoxious gag in response.
He missed this.
“Well Gordon, go ahead,” Kleiner calls from his place by the computer once more, seemingly over what just happened. “Slip into your suit now.”
Barney about faces directly towards Freeman, gives a very stiff salute with what he assumes is meant to be his friend’s impression of Freeman’s signature ‘straight face’, then marches like a toy soldier towards the panel from earlier. Hopefully this time around he won’t be so viciously attacked.
With a simple button press, the glass doors surrounding the suit slide out of the way. As Freeman steps in, Barney steps out. The garage door slides shut behind him, allowing for a moment of privacy. Back into the suit he goes, not that he was out of it for long.
This version of it feels incredibly different. It’s far more comfortable for one, feeling less like it’s clinging to his limbs and more so like it’s hugging them. The suit doesn’t feel like it’s fighting against any bend to his limbs he tries out, nor does the armor try and weigh him down.
While still orange, the plating of the suit is clearly spray painted over, little flecks here and there not quite covering everything up. The gloves are better made for improving his grip, and he even finds a hood at the back that hangs rather loosely when he wears it.
By far what has the most care of the whole suit is the lambda symbol proudly displayed front and center, carefully carved into the plating and painted on with more care than the rest of the suit.
His hand hovers just over it, nearly grazing the surface but never truly touching it.
“Gordon? Ya alright in there?” Banging on the door, it’s a wonder Freeman’s able to hear him at all. Finding the handle is easy enough, and after a few gentle tugs he’s able to pull the thing open. “Oh! There you are! Lookin’ good doc.”
Barney takes a minute to admire the suit, his eyes gliding over it with rapt attention. He then seems to have a moment of clarity and quickly marches off to the other side of the lab without another word.
He takes a few steps out himself, but decides to let Barney have his space. He’s not even entirely sure what spawned that reaction.
Kleiner looks up from his desk just in time to watch Barney barrel past, although he easily shifts his attention to Freeman without a second thought. “Ah, I see your old suit still fits you! Or, at least the glove part does,” Kleiner mutters as he returns his attention to his computer.
His… old suit? That can’t be what it is. When he was put— After Xen— He left Xen with the suit still on. They couldn't have gotten it. Not to mention, after having worn the suit for so long, he’s sure he could recreate a perfect replica from memory. This isn’t it.
Although, that does mean Kleiner built an entirely new suit, presumably from scratch. But why? It seems fully functional as a standard HEV suit, but this one is perfectly fitted for Freeman himself, and he’s rather tall. Not to mention, the improvements he’s noted so far are all things he distinctly recalls complaining to Kleiner about.
Did he… make this just for him? Even after they’d thought he died? Had they thought he died?
“I’ve made a few modifications, but I’ll just acquaint you with the essentials,” Kleiner continues, none the wiser to his own internal debate. “Now, let's see. The Mark V Hazardous Environment Suit has been redesigned for comfort and utility.”
Kleiner isn’t able to get any farther in his acquainting than that, a sudden alarm blaring out across the entire city ominously.
“Oh dear…!” Kleiner looks towards a window a ways away, searching for any signs of immediate danger if he had to guess.
“Doc, we don’t have time for this! At least get that suit juiced up Gordon,” Barney huffs, taking initiative by crossing the room and all but dragging Freeman back the way he came.
“Good idea, there’s a charger on the wall,” Kleiner agrees at the same time, although Freeman is sure he hears the man snicker as he’s pulled towards said charger. How kind. “I’ve modified your suit to draw power from Combine Energy Outlets, which are plentiful wherever they patrol.”
Safely deposited by the aforementioned outlet, Barney leans his weight on one leg as he does an ‘after you’ gesture, obnoxiously punctuated by an overly smug grin.
Freeman, the far more mature of the two, sticks his tongue out at him as he draws as much power as he can from the charger.
As he does, the sounds of two footsteps approach from behind. “Meanwhile, let’s get this show on the road,” Alyx says as he leans into the space between the two and cocks a brow in what can only be described as disappointment.
Kleiner is just behind Barney, a pillar separating the two. Rather than take part in their buffoonery, he grabs a portrait on the wall, horrifically off center, and rights it. It’s followed by a slight click, which prompts Kleiner to turn towards the pillar and begin tapping at it, leaning in close. It’s probably safe to assume there is yet another hidden panel that will reveal some secret door. There’s been a theme of that lately.
Sure enough, the wall right by him slides back, revealing a second part of the lab. There’s that same click from a minute ago, and he’s just quick enough to see the panel sliding back into its hiding place.
He’s the one to lead the charge into the latter half of the lab, followed closely by Kleiner and Alyx, and less closely by Barney. He seems to linger in the doorway.
Walking past him, Kleiner scurries up a ladder and onto some balcony housing a large computer setup. Alyx, meanwhile, deposits herself on a circular platform that gets closed off behind her, its gate sliding into place without missing a beat.
“Gordon! Why don’t you position yourself right by the panel over there and wait for my word?” Kleiner instructs, hastily typing away at his computers.
“Isaac, are you there?” A familiar voice calls out. He’d had a hunch he’d survived, but it was another thing to have it confirmed.
On a monitor just across the room from him, Eli Vance peered through the screen. “Yes, yes Eli,” Kleiner answers absentmindedly. “Bit of a hold up on this end. You’ll never guess who found his way into our lab this morning.”
A throaty laugh that sounds the same as it always has, despite the years. “That’s not who I think it is, is it?”
“Indeed it is! And it’s our intention to send him packing straight away, in the company of your lovely daughter,” Kleiner explains, moving a mile a minute as he gets the machine ready.
“Are you ready for us dad?” Alyx sets a hand on the gate and peers through it towards the monitor. He’s sure the angle feels as awkward as it looks.
“We’re all set on this end,” Eli confirms, taking a step back and turning away from the camera. A woman he doesn’t recognize steps into frame just behind him, and they share an exchange that doesn’t carry over to their end.
Alyx stands back at attention. “Then let’s do it.”
“Let’s see, the Massless Field-Flux should self-limit and I’ve clamped the Manifold Parameters to CY base and LG orbifold, Hilbert inclusive,” Kleiner mutters. Barney finally steps into the lab and stands in front of the monitor Eli is on, but not before turning to Freeman and doing his best Kleiner impression, mouthing the words and mockingly pushing nonexistent glasses up his nose all the while.
All he earns for his hard work is an amused eye roll.
“Conditions could hardly be more ideal,” Kleiner continues on, blissfully unaware of the mockery being made of him just below.
“That’s what you said last time,” Barney complains, crossing his arms and leaning haphazardly against the machinery. He’d assume the man was trying to do an impression of an angsty teenager, since he’s so keen on those even after all this time, but the conversation (or lack thereof) about the cat has him second guessing that line of thought.
“Hey uh yeah, about that cat?” Alyx rightfully calls out. She’s ignored yet again.
“Initializing in three… two…” Barney takes several steps away from the machine, resting a hand on Freeman’s arm. His grip is loose but tense, ready to pull him back at a moment's notice too. That certainly doesn’t bolster his confidence, and judging by the horrified expression on Alyx’s face, it doesn’t help hers either. “One!”
The loud whirring of the machine fades to a stop very suddenly, and Barney’s hold on him feels far calmer. He doesn’t remove his hand, though.
“Oh fiddlesticks!” Kleiner curses, or the closest he’ll ever get to one. “What now?”
“Uh, Doctor? The plug!” Alyx very helpfully gestures to said plug, one of three and the only one not plugged in.
“Oh dear me, you’re right! Gordon, would you mind… plugging us in?” Kleiner peeks over the railing, waiting patiently but intently for Freeman to do as instructed.
Barney rests a hand on his hip and gestures towards the plug with his other, raising one eyebrow slowly, patronizingly. ‘I’m waiting’ is written all over his face.
With an eyeroll he makes sure doesn’t go unnoticed by any present, he marches over and sticks the plug back where it belongs. The machine whirrs back to life in an instant, and while he’s still reeling from the sudden, loud sound, Barney pulls him back.
“Excellent,” Kleiner thanks, readjusting his glasses. The light reflecting off of them made it impossible to see his eyes.
“Ya gonna let Gordon throw the switch?” Alyx asks, bringing her hands up to help project her voice. He can’t imagine how much louder the machine must be for her.
“Yes! Go on Gordon, throw the switch!” Kleiner makes a shoeing motion, his hand flapping excitedly. The actual act of ‘throwing’ the switch is incredibly simple and probably not worth all the fanfare, but at least Kleiner is happy. “Very good. Final sequence… commencing… now!”
”I can’t look!” Barney turns away, his grip on Freeman tightening in preparation.
Alyx laughs nervously from the platform, which has since raised into the air. Her nervous laughter continues, slowly getting distorted. She shrinks in on herself as the bars around her begin spinning, increasing in velocity by the second. With a flash of light, she’s gone. The echo of her scream remains.
“Well…? Did it work? ” Kleiner asks, peering into his monitor from atop the balcony as though he could stick his head through and find Alyx with the others on the other side.
“See for yourself,” Eli leans into the camera smugly, before stepping away entirely to reveal Alyx, who also leans in smugly.
“Hey Doc!” She places a chaste kiss on her father’s cheek before moving back out of frame.
”Oh, thank goodness! My relief is almost palpable.” The Doctor rests a hand above his heart, letting out a deep sigh as the tension leaves him.
”Fantastic work Izzy,” Eli praises, nodding in approval.
“Well I can’t take all the credit! Dr. Freeman proved an able-assistant,” Kleiner teases, beaming down at him with a faux-prideful expression.
“Let’s go ahead and bring Gordon through now,” Eli laughs along, offering only a small mercy in the form of helping him escape this situation. And to think, his own mentor! He’d expect a joke like that from Barney, sure—
“Good job Gordon, throwing that switch ‘nd all! I can see your MIT education really pays for itself.” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. To crush all your dreams. And remind you of your student debt. At least there’s one upside to the apocalypse; he won’t have to pay them now.
“Alright Barney, your turn!” Kleiner calls out enthusiastically. And with that, Kleiner has redeemed himself.
“Gee, thanks,” Like the flip of a switch, Barney’s mood has plummeted dramatically. Something tells Freeman it’s not part of any bit.
“Gordon, as soon as you’re in position, we’ll send you to Eli’s.” Kleiner nods down to him, seemingly also sobered up. He feels like he’s missing something.
The gate slides into place behind him the moment he steps on, and he finds the machine was just as imposing to be in as it looked from the outside.
“Excellent. Initializing in three, two, one,” He counts down.
”Good luck out there Gordon,” Barney calls out somberly, staring up at him like it’ll be the last time. After Black Mesa, Freeman doesn’t exactly blame him.
“Yes, indeed,” Kleiner agrees, also very somber. “We’re ready to project you, Gordon. Bon voyage, and best of luck in your future endeavors,” The goodbye feels too final for his liking, but there’s no changing what's already been set in motion. He knows that.
He knows that better than anyone.
“Final sequence…” He doesn’t so much hear as he sees the Doctor mouth it to himself. What he does hear is the loud clang as a vent cover slips off the vent, bouncing off a cabinet and falling to the floor. It just barely misses Barney, and takes a large black cable connected to the machine with it. Sparks fly. ”Now what is it?”
“It’s your pet, the freakin' HEADHUMPER!”
“Lamarr? Betty, no!” All his focus is dragged towards the headcrab, and permanently stuck there as it leaps for him. In a flash of light, he’s suddenly on a lonely desert highway, the road buried under mounds of sand and cars littering the way. Somehow, the teleport disoriented the stupid thing enough it got turned around.
Another flash of light steals him away before it can attempt to attach itself to his face again. Now he’s back at the lab, or at least he thinks he is. He can hear Barney, and Kleiner, just barely over his own, suddenly labored breathing.
His fingers tingle, and feel stiff. They grip uselessly at the undersuit on his arms, struggling to find any sort of purchase on the rubbery material.
Alyx is in front of him, just past the bright blue light encasing him. He hears more talking, but it’s all gibberish to him. Mumbling utterances of silence.
He’s only got himself for company, like always.
If it weren’t for the fact he was gulping up air like he’d just breached the water’s surface, he likely wouldn’t have noticed the way the air suddenly thinned around him, further stifling him.
There are black spots in his vision that look almost white if he focuses on them too long, but even still he can make out the features of Wallace Breen, looking as confused as he feels and as angry as—
“I’m getting him out of there!” Barney calls, loud and clear. He can’t see him though. He tries reaching a hand up to check that his glasses are still there, but he can’t even feel his arms. He can’t feel anything.
Air thinning and thickening suddenly stops being a problem, because he finds himself underwater, dirty water. Some sort of creature he almost recognizes appears through the haze, mouth torn wide open and razor sharp teeth jutting out. A flash.
Flash after flash, a migraine slowly builds behind his eyes and drains what little energy still had him going after all of this time. He’s so tired. When was the last time he slept?
Why can’t he remember?
Why can’t he remember?
The ringing in his head is getting worse, the only sounds breaking it up his own breathing, and he’s getting tired of that too.
He doesn’t realize he’s curled up until his head falls against sand, the awful texture sticking to his forehead as water droplets fall to the ground below.
A pair of boots, covered in that same dark brown sand stop just short of him, and it’s a miracle he’s able to drag his head to the side a little. The word tilt would be more accurate, really.
There’s a lot of greens and blacks and grays making up the thing above him. He’s not really sure what it is.
But then there’s the unmistakable feeling of cold steel against his forehead, the barrel of a gun displacing the sandy dirt.
Oh.
Maybe now he’ll get some rest. Someone else can come along and take over. Anyone could’ve done what he did. He just happened to be the one to do it.
His eyes flutter shut, and he waits for what never comes.
For seconds. For minutes. Hours. Days, months, years.
He waits.
His time is over now.
Startlingly, the piercing blue that was achingly familiar is replaced by a radioactive green. It helps bring back some clarity, at the very least.
The light encasing him has localized itself, running across his body as electricity. It almost hurts. But he can feel it.
He can’t feel the ground, or anything around him. There wasn’t anything to feel, anyway. He’s floating in a black void, his only company some vaguely humanoid shape, blinding to look at. The same green that circulates around his body.
It tilts its head at him.
Another flash, still that new, odd green, and the void is still there, but less empty. There are stars now. He feels compelled to reach out for one, just to see if he can touch it, although he’s stopped short by something.
By a wall, he realizes. A window. He turns to find himself in a box— The tram. Red, velvety seats are painted across its sides. That’s not right.
Maybe it’s the train he rode this morning.
Seven others also stand in the tram, three on either side as well as one on the opposite end of the tram and each staring out past the seats, past the window, out into the void. The details are blurry, but he can make out colors for each; red, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple, and pink.
At least— He’s not alone anymore. He won’t have only himself to keep him company.
The electricity is crackling violently around him, nearly striking the other passengers in the tram— Train?
“Go—n…?” Something calls.
Someone.
Somewhere.
“G—rd—n!” Again.
”Fr—m—!” And again.
”Gor— …man!” And—
”GORDON FREEMAN!” Until it all ends, if it all ends.
They call for him.