Chapter Text
“Hello? Testing, testing. Is.. is this thing on?
Ah! Hello Gordon!
I'm... assuming that's your real name… You wouldn't lie to us. Would you?
Well… You finally did it! You survived the resonance cascade! You brought us all to hell and back, alive! You made it to the ultimate birthday bash at the end of the world!
You beat the video game!
And... now I imagine you'll... shut it down.
Move on with your life.
Onwards and upwards, ay Gordon?
I don't.. know... how much longer I have to send this to you so I'll try to keep it brief. Not my specialty. Perhaps this is presumptuous of me but...
Must this really be the end of our time together?
Perhaps you could take the science team's data, transfer us somewhere else, hmm? Now... it doesn't have to be Super Punch-Out for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System. Maybe a USB drive, or a spare floppy disk. You could take us with you! We could see the world!
We could...
I'm getting a little ahead of myself, surely.
Welp!
The option's always there!
You changed our lives, Gordon. I'd like to think it was for the better.
And I don't know what's going to happen to us once you exit the game for good. But I know we'll never forget you.
I hope you won't forget us.
Well…This is where I get off.
Goodbye, Gordon!”
These were the last words Gordon Freeman heard before his world turned dark.
…
Which was… weird. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one in control?
And yet…
…
Gordon Freeman was a 27-year-old Theoretical Physicist, ranked as a level 3 Research Associate Scientist at Black Mesa, and a graduate of MIT under his mentor Dr. Isaac Kleiner. His thesis was titled Observation of Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen Entanglement on Supraquantum Structures by Induction Through Nonlinear Transuranic Crystal of Extremely Long Wavelength (ELW) Pulse from Mode-Locked Source Array, and he was born and raised in Seattle, Washington. After graduating, he helped with and oversaw teleportation experiments done by the Institute for Experimental Physics in Innsbruck in Austria- but he was bored by the development dragging on forever, so he jumped at the chance to work with his former mentor in New Mexico and was assigned to work in Anomalous Materials. He liked racing with his friend Barney in the vents. He didn’t remember a single word he ever verbally spoke that whole era and his entity name was player.
He was programmed with this…unsightly block of text(and more!) in his brain, but more than half of it was completely meaningless.
After the Resonance Cascade, he had been completely reprogrammed.
Gordon FeetFreeman was a 27(?) year old Theoretical Physicist, who graduated from MIT and worked under Anomalous Materials in Black Mesa. He didn’t know what a Resonance Cascade was before causing one, and feels very bad about it, except not fully because it wasn’t 100% his fault. He remembered he made a thesis, but Physics sorta made him ill now when he thought about it. He hated crawling through vents. He also never seemed to know how to shut up.
He couldn’t for the life of him remember whoever the Hell Barney was(he could only really picture one security guard with that name), and only really knew the name Kliener, but any pre-programmed memories with him were full of maroon and black squares. He didn’t even really remember his parents' names. He only had the building blocks the player gave him.
Most importantly, Gordon Freeman remembered his main goal programmed into him: immersion.
Everything in Black Mesa was real to him, every bullet, stab, and dismemberment was real as the sky itself, though it could be argued that wasn’t a very firm statement where he’s from. He knew it was a game, but he knew he had to do his job- he took on every trait the player gave him and felt everything as though they weren’t pixels.
The whole time, he kept a grip on a simple bit of logic, if it’s all real to him, then it’s real regardless, right? No matter how much the game broke or the characters created situations that were inexplicable. He thought, therefore he was(should’ve majored in philosophy instead, dammit).
When Dr. Coomer realized the same thing, he didn’t take it the same way- and Gordon, for a while, thought that it was stupid- because there was more important stuff to worry about. But here, in the dark, outside the map of Black Mesa(and Chucky Cheese), he understood.
Without the game, he was nothing- and he finally came to the realization.
He was not the player. He was the vessel.
Wait! He had no voice to scream with. Fuck! I’m not ready for this to end! Please-! We can- let’s start the game over! Hell, I’ll do it! I was being dramatic when I said I wanted it all to be over I-
He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Then, as if something heard him, Black Mesa fell apart.
Slowly, the textures warped, glitched, and turned into an eye-strain hell, breaking apart into smaller and smaller fragments and leaving stains of itself unto another. He had no eyes to close at the sight- but he caught a glance of gray, surprised gaze- a tall, suited man stepping away from a dead security guard on the floor of a map thousands of feet under him.
And then he felt himself slam against his front door.
…
He could feel the sun on his skin in a way that wasn’t full of static, and he could touch the splintered wood under his hand as he leaned against his front door, suddenly out of breath.
“Mr. Freeman?” Tommy's voice came from behind him. “Are you okay?”
He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the bright concrete under his feet, feeling his tongue in his mouth with his teeth and then swallowing a wave of exhaustion. He took a second to regroup himself before remembering that Tommy asked him a question.
“Whuh?” He turned around to face the taller scientist- who was still wearing a birthday boy pin and a party hat on the side of his regular propeller hat. Tommy’s gray eyes blinked at him, tilting his head- it was never easy to read the man, though one may assume he was worried.
“…You’re tired,” He said. Gordon swallowed again, leaning his shoulder against the door, and felt surprised when he heard the jingling of keys in his prosthetic hand, blinking a few times to look at them.
“…Yeah, man, I sure am.” He cleared his throat. “…Where are we?”
“Your apartment?” Tommy replied. “Mr. Freeman, you’re starting to concern me.”
Before he could silently pat himself on the back for reading his tone correctly, Gordon took a second to try and retrace his steps, but wound up with nothing. One moment, he was screaming internally in a Chucky Cheeses, and the next, he was here.
He looked to his door handle, grabbing it, before noticing his hand- bare and scratched up, and felt himself gasp so sharply it was like he got shot.
“My suit!” He exclaimed, tracing his eyes along his bare arm, up to his torso- now dressed in a T-shirt, followed by sweatpants clinging to his hips and softly around his ankles, where his outfit ended in a pair of tennis shoes. He almost started crying then and there.
“…Your Hazard Suit?” Tommy asked. “It’s uh, it’s black at- it’s back at Black Mesa, m-Mr. Freeman, remember? We uh- you took it off after the party, Dr. Coomer even pressed all the buttons for it-?”
“… right,” Gordon had no memory of that, though his memory had been terrible recently. Maybe he dissociated through the entire ordeal leading up to here- though he’s never had it bad enough that he’s completely checked out brain-wise. “…and uh, we’re…at my apartment.”
“Yeah, uh, I-I came with to make sure um, you- you got home safely.” Tommy nodded. “…And so I can um- so I can…procrastinate going home to my dad- Mr. Freeman, are you feeling okay?”
Gordon paused for a while, thinking to himself- and oh man he knew the answer.
“…No.” He chuckled dryly. “I’m um, really fucking not.”
“Oh,” Tommy said. “…Do you- do you need me to spend the night with you?”
Part of Gordon wanted to be alone, to enjoy the silence by himself and take the world's longest shower and sleep for three days straight, but the thought of being by himself, after all of that…he didn’t want to say it scared him, but it totally did.
“…If you don’t mind?”
“I-I’m um! More than happy to, Mr. Freeman!”
Gordon felt himself actually smile, and then exhaled, attempting a few times to unlock his apartment door. Before switching to his left hand- the prosthetic was the most clumsy thing in the world to figure out.
Once inside, Gordon breathed in the smell of home, and grimaced when he could smell his nearby kitchen.
“I think you have some expired food,” Tommy said, stepping in after him. Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, yeah I sure do.” He exhaled.
Out of all the things he wanted to do when he got home, cleaning out his fridge was not one of them.
…
Thank god it didn’t take long to just. Shove every single thing in his fridge into the garbage can- though there was a bit more to do, Tommy shooed him off to the shower, telling him he should rest.
“Plus, um,” Tommy added. “You have that Hazard Suit smell.”
Gordon just laughed at that and sauntered off to his bathroom.
It wasn’t fancy at all, but oh my god, Gordon was glad to be here- it was by far the cleanest place he’d been in for the past month, and that’s saying something considering the fact that his hair dryer was left on the counter along with a few towels on the floor.
He took a second to breathe, and got to taking off his shirt- and felt his heart stop for a moment.
…he didn’t know what he expected- considering all the bullets and knives he faced, but he had many new scars- some that left him wondering how he even survived- because, at the time, the HEV suits morphine kept it from making him feel like he was in life-threatening situations. It was easy to get annoyed with the voice telling him to seek medical attention as he limped over to the nearest station to shove his hand into and get injected with weird, mystery drugs that seemed to fix everything.
Aside from his top surgery scars and the site where he got an appendectomy when he was five, he had some freshly healed scars that were thick and almost painful- if not mostly just uncomfortable. One on his collarbone(he remembered losing the use of his left arm for an hour, trying to find a station as the morphine got him higher and higher), one right where his liver would be(pretty sure that’s where Tommy shot him that one time on accident), and one right on his heart. He doesn’t remember getting shot but he did remember getting dragged over to a medical station as his suit beeped at him. Besides those, there were countless scrapes and scratches that healed wrong. He couldn’t imagine how screwed he’d be had he not had the suit. He even had some leftover bruises from the boss battle.
He looked at his prosthetic- flexing the fingers a few times and hearing them click into place. It was an advanced model for sure, he could remember going on Reddit and reading stuff about prosthetic builds and how the muscle sensors in myoelectric prosthetics worked- and from helping upkeep maintenance on Joshua’s leg and trying to make his own ones for him when he was still a toddler, this was a wild one. This was better reaction time than he’d ever seen, but…
It wasn’t his hand. It wasn’t something he could feel with- every command it obeyed he felt nothing at his fingertips, and it made him angry- which…he should be happy. He had what was basically his arm back. He should be thrilled. Maybe he just needed to get used to it.
He exhaled and reached up to where it connected, sliding it off with a tug. He hissed in pain, and felt his heart drop with fear at the suspicion that maybe it wasn’t supposed to come off- but after pulling it away from him, he realized the actual reason it hurt.
His arm was red and painful to the touch- scorched from what was probably the minigun just hours earlier- and sure, it wasn’t as awful as it probably should’ve been- as if someone sped up the healing process, but it still hurt like a mother fucker.
Gordon felt his heart throb in his throat.
Did I even survive? He had to ask himself. Am I dead?
…
Gordon found himself taking a two-hour-long bath, mixing all his soaps- using almost all of it before remembering Tommy might want to shower after him, though if he weren't trying to be a good host he absolutely would’ve soaked himself in different soaps until he got a chemical burn.
Even after scrubbing his skin until it hurt, he didn’t feel clean enough- but logically it was just his brain being weird about it. After draining the tub a few times as he got cleaner and cleaner water full of colors he’d never seen before, he finally stepped out, dried himself off, and wrapped a towel around himself, electing to put on fresher clothes than what he had on before.
He stepped out, looking down the short hall and through the entrance/living room, into the kitchen, where Tommy seemed to be washing his hands and finishing something up.
“Hey,” Gordon cleared his throat and spoke, gesturing to the bathroom. “Um, showers free, f’y’wanna use it.”
Tommy blinked at him, eyes lingering for a while. After a moment, Gordon remembered he was still just in a towel- though it was wrapped around over his chest- childhood habit, sue him if it was feminine. But it didn’t change the fact that he went from a 24/7 HEV suit to this in front of Tommy.
“Oh- um,” The taller scientist seemed to notice he was staring. “Thank you, m-Mr. Freeman! That sounds wonderful.”
“…cool,” Gordon blinked. He felt a little insecure now, so he started to walk across the hall to his room. “Um, m’gonna…get dressed.”
“Right!”
They held eye contact for a few more moments before Gordon closed the door to his room.
There was the home smell he was looking for. Oh god, he missed this. Or at least, he thought he did- he probably did- it just. Was taking a while to catch up with him.
Sighing, he lumbered over to his closet, and picked a T-shirt at random, putting it on before sliding into a pair of boxers and sweatpants- basically the same outfit as before, but these sweatpants were lined with fleece! The entire dressing himself with one arm thing was an ordeal and took longer than he was proud of, but at least he did it. Should’ve snagged his prosthetic before letting Tommy into the bathroom.
He used the towel to dry his hair a bit better, before throwing it into a hamper and opening his room's door, striding out into his living room, and flopping onto his couch. He could hear the shower running, which meant he was alone with his thoughts.
He didn’t know why he didn’t just start crying in the shower like one would usually do, but he didn’t, and now he was tearing up on his couch. Not even a cathartic sob or breakdown, just…a leak in a dam he couldn't see. He didn’t want to see it. He wanted to bury all of this.
Am I still even an employee? He asked himself. They wanted us dead, right? I’ll have to ask Tommy.
He didn’t have the energy to get up or stretch or anything- he didn’t even have the energy to grab the remote. All of his muscles ached and tingled with the worst, most exhausting feeling in the world- he was so tired he couldn’t fall asleep. It hurt to his very core. It was probably what was fueling the occasional single tear- because everything else he could cry over wasn’t able to break through this haze he found himself in.
He must’ve zoned out, because about an hour passed before Tommy stepped out of the bathroom, in his own fresh clothes- a pair of leggings and a button-up. Gordon didn’t want to ask why and how he had a spare change of clothes on him. The guy was always resourceful, that was probably the answer.
The scientist walked over to him, and gazed down, frowning and tilting his head.
After a while, he sat on the floor, back facing Gordon as he leaned against the couch, shoulder next to where Gordon was hanging his arm over the cushion. He had cried in front of Tommy many times, especially during the last few days, so he didn’t care if he saw his face- and Tommy was never cruel enough to bring it up. It was a wordless exchange, one of understanding of not breaking the peace.
Though the message wasn’t fully clear, because Gordon flinched when he heard a soda can open- and lifted his head to see Tommy taking a sip.
“Where did-?” Gordon started trembling with mirth. “Dude, where did you even get that?”
Tommy tossed him a glance, before looking away again and continuing to sip at his Soda, wordlessly. It just made Gordon laugh again before shoving his face into the cushion.
Whatever. He didn’t know why he expected things to make sense after they left Black Mesa, but it was fine. Weirder could be happening right now.
…
It didn’t take long for the sun to start to set- and through those moments Gordon and Tommy had a few sparse conversations, giving Gordon much-needed information.
Apparently, Black Mesa showered the Science Team with hush money- and Gordon himself agreed along with the rest of them to keep his mouth shut about the entire cascade, which…whatever. At least he wasn’t broke.
It had also been nighttime back on Earth when they fought Benrey on Xen, to which it was morning when they went to Chucky Cheese and they partied until mid-day or so, where they went back to Black Mesa to remove Gordon's suit and converse with the government on their terms.
Then they separated, Dr. Coomer saying he’d take Bubby back to his own house since his dorm room was destroyed in the cascade- Gordon found it a little funny to imagine what kind of house Dr. Coomer might have, and hoped to see it soon. Tommy went home with Gordon, probably because he was so out of it.
“Thanks for being uh,” Gordon paused, finger hovering over the online delivery for some crappy fast food. “So patient? With me? Uh, this must be annoying to explain, especially on your birthday, man.”
“Oh- um, I-I don’t mind!” Tommy said. “I uh, we already celebrated, you know? It uh, we’ve been through um, a lot…”
“…yeah,” Gordon’s voice strained in his throat before he cleared it and exhaled. “So um, what kinda burger do you want?”
“Um, plain cheeseburger.” Tommy shrugged. Gordon giggled to himself deliriously.
“Can you haz cheezburger?” He muttered, to which the other scientist tilted his head.
“What?”
“Nothing, ignore me.”
He put in Tommy's order along with a large soda and then put in his own order- a spicy chicken sandwich, god that sounded fucking good. Side of fries for him and Tommy to split, too.
Once he got the text saying it was on its way, Gordon shoved his face back into the arm of the couch.
“Um, Mr. Freeman?”
“Yeah?” He angled his face so his mouth wasn't muffled, but his eyes were still shut against the fabric.
“Where's um- why did you take off your um- your arm?”
He lifted his head a bit, blinking at the scientist, who once again wore an expression that was hard to read.
“…hurts.”
“…Oh. It does look pretty uh- burned, yeah.” Tommy’s eyes trailed to Gordon’s stump. “Do you um, do you have any first aid kits?”
Gordon inhaled and sat himself up. “Yeah, yeah I do. C’mon.”
He eased himself slowly off the couch, feeling his body complain at having to move again, before lumbering over to the bathroom, flicking the light on. He made a note that there weren’t towels on the floor anymore, though he didn’t remember cleaning those up.
He pried open a cabinet under the sink with his foot, not wanting to bend over, before realizing he’d have to and squatting down to get it(joints making numerous pops as he did so), snagging it into his hand and holding it up for Tommy to grab. Once he felt the weight lift, he prepared himself, and stood back up, shutting the cabinet door again.
“H’okay,” He grunted. “What’d’ya need that for, again?”
“Um,” Tommy blinked. “Your arm. You said it was burnt- if it’s unc- if it hurts we should uh, take care of it…”
Gordon stood there for a moment, before blinking a few times.
“…right,” He said. “Sorry I’m…I’m really out of it, man.”
“That's- that’s okay!” Tommy set down the kit, opened it, and went through it. “It’s um- nice to see you not panicking, at least.”
“Dude, I’m too tired to panic,” Gordon muttered, watching Tommy open a tube of what was probably burn cream. “If someone broke in here, I’d fucking, I dunno. Lay down and die.” He knocked on wood for good measure after saying that.
Tommy frowned, gesturing to Gordon to put out his hand for the poultice. “You shouldn’t um, say things like that.”
Once he had the cream in his hand, Gordon started to apply it to his stump and exhaled in relief at the cool touch- before grimacing at how foreign it felt, touching where there used to be a limb.
“Sorry.” He muttered, not exactly sure what part he was apologizing for, but he was distracted by his healing process now. Tommy took out what seemed like fluffy, flat cotton, handing it to Gordon.
“Put um, hold this on, I’m gonna wrap the bandages around- around it to hold it on, okay?” He said. “Um, tell me if it's too h- if it’s too tight.”
Gordon nodded, following Tommy’s directions and watching him spin stretchy material around his stump, before hissing in pain at the sudden pressure.
“Sorry, Mr. Freeman!”
“S’fine, I’m cool-“ he gave a shaky thumbs up as Tommy started wrapping more loosely. He didn't see the point of doing this if it didn’t hold on, but it seemed to stay when he drew his hands back from the finished product. “Thanks.”
“We’re um- out of the Resonance Cascade now- so-“ Tommy looked Gordon up and down. “Please try to. Take care of yourself?”
Gordon was about to respond with Yeah, yeah I know I get it, before he felt it hit him. Of course he knew they were out, but hearing someone else verbalize that…
“Yeah,” He cringed at himself when he heard his voice crack. Tommy made eye contact for a moment, before looking away again.
“Oh- um-“ He looked around frantically. “Do you, should I distract you?”
“I don’t,” Gordon reached his hand up to wipe at his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t…care either way, aauhh, shit, dude, sorry I’m such a…” mess. Crybaby. Idiot. Loser. “I don’t…know why this is hitting me so hard,”
“You uh,” Tommy looked at him like he was stupid. “You lost your hand, Gordon.”
“Thgk-“ That shocked him right out of crying. “Did you just call me Gordon???”
Tommy blinked, before walking out of the room. Right. No straight answers from this guy ever. It could be worse, he could be Ben-
He swallowed a lump in his throat and reassured himself that Benrey would stay dead this time.
…
After dinner, Gordon set up the pullout bed for Tommy- grabbing his only other spare blanket and two of his many pillows. Tommy sat criss-cross on the bed, watching Netflix on Gordons TV- he didn’t have any cable except maybe YouTube TV and Tommy wrinkled his nose when he said that, so he left Tommy to fall asleep to My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic, questioning himself as to how he never connected that Tommy was probably a Brony and cursing that they couldn’t bond over it sooner, though he didn’t want to weird the guy out any more than he already did today.
“Okay, uh, m’goin to bed,” Gordon yawned, stretching out his arms in front of him and scrunching his neck into itself. Tommy looked him up and down again, before focusing his gaze back on the TV.
“Goodnight, Mr. Freeman!”
“Night, dude.”
He sauntered off and away down the hall and to his room, debating on closing the door before electing to keep it open, in case Tommy noticed a break-in or needed help.
God…the thought of a break-in… it made him nauseous. After everything they’ve been through, after all the hush money, he could easily die in a shitty pun T-shirt about the periodic table of elements in his own room.
The same, aching feeling from before had not dissipated, but felt far more noticeable now- the exhaustion that was so bad he couldn’t sleep, the anxiety from before making him pace back and forth instead of just laying down and going to sleep. Could he fight against whoever came in? Would his body just give out? Oh, they were fucked.
His legs started burning, so he forced himself to sit down on his bed, trying to control his breathing- but every part of him felt like this was counterproductive- cause someone could be breaking in right now - maybe someone left over from the military with a vendetta, or an alien, or Ben-
He needed to check to make sure the door was locked, he needed to- holy shit he didn’t even own a weapon! Aside from a plastic katana from high school that was in his closet and a bat- oh my god he was fucked. He and Tommy were gonna die tonight.
He rushed out of his room- flicking on the light in his bathroom and checking, before turning on the hallway light as well. He quickly checked throughout Joshua's room, too- fear picking up more and more as he didn't find whoever was in his house.
He moved on to the living room, turning the light on in a blur and flinching with a sharp, wheezy inhale when he saw someone, before noticing a familiar propeller hat and sleepy eyes that blinked at him.
“Mr. Freeman?” Tommy turned to look at him- he was already way further into the season of My Little Pony he was watching- which caused Gordon to wonder- how long had it been?
He swallowed, and took an actual breath- the first he’s felt this whole time, standing frozen mid-movement towards the kitchen. He was suddenly very aware of how his skin felt like it was burning.
“Thgk-“ Gordon failed at first trying to form words with his mouth. “I think there's someone in my house,”
“…There’s no one here but me, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, tilting his head. “Are you okay?”
Gordon felt bad about how many times Tommy had to ask him that today.
“I jus-“ He panted, oh my god he was panting? “I- are you sure? Are you fucking sure?”
“Yes- I- I can double check if you want- um- why do you think that- that there's a p- that there's someone in here?”
Gordon paused, staring at Tommy, and tried to retrace his steps- only to find he had no evidence whatsoever. Not even a creek from the floor or anything- just a fear that developed.
“…I don’t, I dunno.”
Tommy frowned. “Do you, um, want to watch My Little Pony with me?”
He stared at the other scientist for a very, very long time, before feeling himself tear up.
“…yeah, man. I do.”
…
Gordon wasn’t sure when he started doing it, but he was leaning against Tommy while watching Dragonshy and didn’t want to stop or pull away. The other scientist, luckily, didn’t seem to mind, and he finally felt tired enough to close his eyes.