Chapter Text
At least Gordon hadn't been wrong. Because, much to his surprise, Benrey had been proving to be a decent roommate. He cleaned up after himself and mostly kept out of Gordon's way outside of mealtimes, in which he'd harass Gordon into letting him help. He'd honestly been relieved the guard was so insistent about it, but he couldn't just come out and tell him that. Benrey's ego was inflated enough as it was; if Gordon said he appreciated the help, he'd probably try staking claim to more of the apartment than he already had.
And per the informal arrangement, Benrey couldn't sleep in Joshua's room, so he had settled for taking the couch as his residence. Gordon had considered going out to buy an air mattress, but he didn't have any reasonable space to put it, so on the couch Benrey would stay. The guard had also commandeered just about every console Gordon owned. He didn't have that many, or at least Gordon thought he didn't, but Benrey somehow kept finding more and more.
The guard's current fixation was Gordon's old 3DS from a junk drawer in the kitchen. He was pretty sure the charging port was broken, and that's why it'd been discarded in the drawer, but Benrey seemed to be playing it fine, and Gordon was relieved it was something that kept his attention.
Currently, Benrey was working his way through his old Pokemon Soul Silver game. He'd mourned his lost Pokemon in the guard's reset of the game, but admittedly he hadn't gotten far in it anyway. He'd only made it to the third gym, but Gordon had good memories playing it, and it sucked to see his Pokemon erased. He was allowed to be a little grumpy over it.
'Overall' didn't cover everything though, and it felt like fifty-fifty between Gordon being mad at the guard or simply tolerating him. It was over stupider, lower-stakes stuff now that they weren't being shot at, but the frustration and arguing was something familiar to fall back into rather than contemplate that Benrey was being genuinely less volatile now. Only minutes after setting up the Wii, he'd started complaining about the Daisy CPU, somehow having deduced it was Gordon's favorite, and immediately jumped to shit-talking it. And it shouldn't have made Gordon as irritable as it did; he wasn't even playing! But there was something about Benrey's nasally jabs that got him up in arms and immediately saying that Daisy is, in fact, the best out of the three princesses, thank you. And maybe Benrey just wasn't as good as he claimed to be at Mario Kart.
And so, of course, Benrey responded by blue-shelling Daisy the first chance he got, and proceeded to win all three races. A feat Gordon had never pulled off, which only made the guard all the more smug.
It was the first of many spats they'd gotten into over the past few days, but luckily all of them seemed to blow over quickly. Probably because they were based in stupid bullshit, but it was nice to yell at Benrey without wanting to kill him sometimes.
They weren't currently in any argument, but Gordon's heart was racing as if they were. He'd scheduled a checkup almost as soon as he remembered to do so because exposure to radioactive waste and sewage water in his open bloodstream was probably not healthy. And Gordon was pretty sure that if any issues were going to happen with that, they already would have started appearing. Still, it was nice to have professional confirmation that you weren't actively dying.
And despite him knowing it was just a checkup, he still couldn't get over the fact he'd probably have somebody prodding at his arm and asking too many questions. Gman gave him a whole spiel to repeat in any sort of scenario in which it might be necessary, but that didn't erase what'd actually happened. A soldier's boot grinding against his temple, too loud voices rolling over each other in confusing waves, the sharp sound of a knife being withdrawn from its sheath, and the thick iron smell of his blood on the air.
Keening softly, Gordon let his head drop against the bathroom counter. He was choosing to do this. It wasn't like they were going to try sawing his other arm off; there was a potential they wouldn't even need to ask about it at all! It was basically guaranteed to be fine. But he was not fine. He was very not fine, and Gordon could feel the sensation of panic creeping back up on him.
His emotional state was apparent enough that the rest of the Science Team was coming to take him to the appointment. Which Gordon felt was completely unnecessary, but Dr. Coomer had insisted, and it wasn't an issue Gordon was willing to argue with the doctor over. Plus, he couldn't drive himself anyway, given the brand-new prosthesis.
And it was a matter of half an hour before they were here, and Gordon wasn't sure whether Tommy had told everyone else about Benrey's reappearance. Which could either go very well, and the two doctors wouldn't care in the slightest. Or they would have a boss battle part two in the hallway outside his apartment, and Gordon was not emotionally prepared for that.
He could hardly drag himself from where he was rooted to the sink, let alone make another attempt to look presentable and put his hair up.
Forcing himself to take in deep, shaky breaths, Gordon waited with his head bowed till he was feeling well enough to come back up without feeling like he'd tip back over. It really didn't help that as soon as he felt moderately okay, glancing up and into the mirror, in the reflection, he could see icy eyes staring at him from the hall.
Jerking backward with a loud curse, Gordon knocked his head against the towel rack on the wall. It was fucking Benrey. Of course it was, but it took a minute to reign back his momentary panic. Sliding down the wall instead of staying on his feet, Gordon turned accusingly toward the guard.
"Jesus man. You know announcing your presence would be appreciated instead of just walking in unannounced."
Benrey watched over him with a neutral expression, "Door was open. That's not sneaking."
Gordon huffed regardless, lifting his hand to palm the back of his head. It didn't feel truly injured, but it stung nonetheless. It wasn't really a surprise as Benrey started moving to sit down next to him, and Gordon locked onto the DS in the guard's hands. The display looked like Majoras Mask, but Gordon honestly hadn't played the game enough to recognize it.
"So uh, what're we doing on the floor," Benrey's stare was still on the unmoving screen, so Gordon finally turned away.
Looking up to the ceiling with a sigh, Gordon shrugged, "Fuck if I know, man. I've been sitting in here for the past twenty minutes doing absolutely nothing, might as well sit on the floor."
"Fuck yeah, floor time's great. So comfortable on the cold ass tile."
"You don't have to sit here if you don't want to," Gordon huffed, gesturing at the door, "There's a couch for a reason."
"Yeah, but you're in here being a crybaby about whatever. So I gotta help a bud out."
Scowling at Benrey, Gordon shook his head, "You don't 'gotta' I can handle things by myself." He was not going to give into the goad of Benrey's slightly arched eyebrow, and instead, Gordon jerkily got back to his feet. The guard remained seated, which was fine by him as long as he didn't say anything annoying.
Benrey made a barely audible sound as he moved to sit back up, and Gordon had to resist from turning around to stare. He settled for watching in the mirror as the man tucked the DS into his sweatshirt pocket. It was one of the many he seemed to have pulled from thin air, and Gordon honestly couldn't be less worried about where he was keeping them. There was a prickle of curiosity, sure, but the answer he'd get would probably be nonsense anyway.
He shuffled aside as Benrey came to stand nearly shoulder to shoulder at the counter, pursing his lips as the guard moved to grab his brush, "Dude. No. You don't even need to brush your hair; you never take the helmet off."
Benrey made a mocking noise at him as he lifted the brush up to inspect it anyhow. He held it up an inch away from his nose, eyes partially crossing as he glared at the bristles before holding it back out to him, "This yours?"
"Yes it's mine. You just took it off my counter." Gordon crossed his arms as Benrey continued to hold it in his face, tempted to bat the item away. But eventually, the guard retracted his arm, scanning him over with quiet disinterest.
"You a little messy man? Need some help there from your good old buddy?"
Letting out a breath through his nose, Gordon shook his head, "No. No. I guarantee you do not know how to do my hair. I'll... Figure it out. It's fine."
There was a twitch in the guard's expression, and Benrey shoved the brush back at him, "Fine. I totally could though. Super easy. Played tons of hair salon games. Five stars every time, you wouldn't know."
Rolling his eyes, Gordon grabbed the brush back, pulling it through tangled and knotted hair. And it fucking sucked but it wasn't like Benrey could do any better. He could say whatever he wanted, but Gordon was in no way confident of the other man's skills.
It didn't stop Benrey from sitting down on the lid of the toilet and watching him with tired eyes as Gordon painstakingly brushed out his hair. But he gritted his teeth and went through the motions because what else was he going to do. Let the Science Team think he couldn't take care of himself? Absolutely not. Gordon was extremely put together. He could handle things himself, thank you very much. Illusory truth effect and all that.
It took a good six minutes for Gordon to get his hair situated in a not-wild-animal fashion, and he was still stuck with it puffing up in a halo around his head. And Gordon was glad for the prosthesis, he absolutely was, but it just didn't have the same fine motor control as his real hand did. Which left him in the predicament of repetitively twining a rubber band around his fingers as he eyed his mane in the mirror. It'd been easy enough once upon a time; throw his hair into a ponytail and not worry about it, but now he had to consider the logistics of it.
Which was stupid. It was totally pointless because no matter how Gordon looked at it, his hair wasn't going to be wrangled with just a mechanical arm and a rubber band. There was a point you just had to admit that some things just weren't going to happen.
And so, with pain in his heart, Gordon turned to Benrey, already feeling himself brace in preparation for whatever onslaught of... Whatever the guard was going to throw at him, "Okay, fine. Can you please help me?"
"Yeah? Finally, admit to needing my help?" Benrey asked as he lifted himself from the seat, holding one hand out so Gordon could pass the rubber band over. "Can't go on without your best friend?"
"You're not my best friend," Gordon chided, but he could feel the hostility draining from his own voice as Benrey took the hair tie. He faced back toward the mirror, watching as the guard's hands reached up to his head. It was almost comical- how short he was by comparison. In Gordon's mind, Benrey had always towered over him. Maybe it was just his imposing presence or the boss battle, in which Benrey had been as tall as a building. But it was strange to see him reaching up to do his hair, of all things. It didn't necessarily make the guard less scary; Gordon didn't know what he could still do after coming back to life, but maybe he could start extending a little more trust.
As Benrey drew his hands back, he arched one eyebrow at him through the mirror, "See? Fuckin- worried about my skills. Look at that. Perfect ponytail. You love it."
And glancing over Benrey's handiwork, he really hadn't done a bad job. The hair tie didn't feel like it was going to fall out as he walked, and it even looked decent too. Inching to the side, Gordon turned to look back at the guard, "This is actually pretty good, thank you man, I really-"
Gordon cut himself off at the sound of a knock. It took a minute of rationalizing the sound over a familiar sense of alarm at new noises to realize that it was likely the Science Team. Meeting Benrey's stare, he gestured for the guard to follow along as he wove his way through the apartment. And unsurprisingly, the first person in view upon opening the door was Dr. Coomer.
"Hello Gordon!'
Managing to squeeze out a "Hello, Dr. Coomer," As the old man drew him in for a tight embrace, Gordon spotted Bubby and Tommy waiting behind the good doctor. When he was released and subsequently allowed to breathe again, Gordon patted Coomer's shoulder, "It's really good to see you guys."
As Tommy opened his mouth, probably to respond in the like, he was drowned out by Bubby's snark, "Yeah, and you look like shit."
Gordon felt himself deflate. There it was.
"Well- Mr. Freeman has a busy day today!" Tommy puffed, but he still didn't deny the statement. Gordon didn't feel like he looked that miserable, but the other three scientists seemed fairly cleaned up, so Gordon was just hoping that the assessments were just by comparison.
Benrey scooted out from behind him, taking away his need to respond, but Gordon immediately locked onto Coomer and Bubby. Coomer didn't seem phased in the slightest, offering the guard a pleasant smile, but Gordon noticed Bubby's nose wrinkling slightly. Which was his reaction to just about anything at all, but neither seemed to be launching at Benrey with renewed bloodlust, so Gordon counted it as a win.
"Ah, it's good to see you as well, Bennet. Back in tip-top shape, I see?"
Blinking at the jumbling of his name, Benrey shrugged, "Yeah, uh. Totally... Feeling super."
Honestly, it was a little odd that the rest of the Science Team didn't seem to care that Benrey was back. Gordon expected a punch from Coomer at the very least. Maybe for Bubby to set him on fire a little bit. But everyone else seemed fine and dandy to carry on like they all hadn't killed Benrey less than a week ago. They'd all been nonchalant in Black Mesa, but everyone had agreed Benrey had needed to be dealt with, and they'd killed him. So why was everyone fine now? Why was he the one who had the strongest reaction to Benrey's return, and nobody else seemed to care?
Gordon jolted as Dr. Coomer nudged his side, letting out a shaky breath as the man offered him a warm smile, "We'd better be going. Wouldn't want to be late, would we, Gordon?"
It felt like there was subtext somewhere under the elder scientist's words, but Gordon didn't have the brainpower to decipher whatever he was trying to say. So instead, Gordon nodded a bit dumbly, "Uh, yeah. Sure, let's get going."
Their group quickly plodded their way down the stairs because Bubby apparently didn't trust elevators, and considering the Science Team's experience with them, Gordon didn't blame him. But he could feel the familiar pit of anxiety returning as they drew closer to the outside. Gordon knew it was going to be fine. Not only was it just a doctor's appointment, the whole Science Team was backing him up too.
It wasn't like they'd swooped in to save him the last time he'd been ambushed, though. Everyone had played fucking fifty-two card pick-up and scattered themself across Black Mesa, leaving him for dead-
Blue popped against the side of his face.
Gordon froze mid-step as he turned to look at Benrey. The guard seemed oblivious to his shock and blinked lazily, remnants of blue smoke still spilling from half-parted lips, "Calm down, please?"
Gordon's heart was still racing, but there was a sense of numbness over it that he should probably be angry at Benrey about, but he didn't feel seconds away from exploding anymore either. So, he nodded, trying his best to smile appreciatively, but whatever came out felt more like a grimace despite the effort. Benrey did not seem to notice either way, "Yeah, I'll try."
Seemingly satisfied, Benrey blinked, turning away to poke at Tommy and ask him something about beyblades. Releasing a breath, Gordon followed behind the group as they exited into the parking lot. There was the briefest moment of curiosity for who'd be driving them, but the unspoken question was quickly answered as the expensive, eyesore yellow-colored car flashed its headlights at them. And after witnessing Bubby's driving skills in Black Mesa, Gordon was suddenly very glad that it was Tommy driving them.
Dr. Coomer could be reasoned with, but he was prone to acting on impulse purely for shits and giggles. He didn't need Benrey daring him to hit another car head-on and the doctor taking him up on it. Gordon would call it a successful trip if he could make it to the actual doctor's office without any more injuries.
Hopping into the passenger seat, thankfully unchallenged, Gordon pulled his seatbelt on and waited for everyone else to do the same. Always one for the rules, Tommy went the whole mile to check his mirrors and everything before even putting his key in the ignition. But as they got onto the road, Tommy was quick to crank up the radio to something even Bubby had minimal grumbles about. It hurt Gordon's ears a bit to listen to, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell Tommy to turn it down. So Gordon slouched in the passenger seat and let himself be carted along for the ride.
Living in the middle of the city had its benefits though, and it wasn't long before they arrived at the office. Parking was an entirely different beast, but luckily they managed not to circle the lot for too long.
Walking in the double doors, followed by his boisterous entourage, Gordon figured they were probably the tired-looking receptionist's worst nightmare. Maybe second to a group of teenagers, but not far from it, if Benrey was stealing lollipops out of a glass dish like Gordon thought he could see from the corner of his eye.
Ducking his head in embarrassment, Gordon made his way up to the front desk, going through the formalities before a screen was turned around for him to sign. And upon awkwardly scrawling his signature, the receptionist sniffed loudly, then gestured vaguely to the seating area.
He could sense more than hear Benrey's approach as he corralled the Science Team toward the painfully white furniture and finally spared the guard a glance when he slotted himself beside him on the couch.
"Dude. Your handwriting sucks."
Scowling, Gordon folded his arms over his chest, "It's my non-dominant hand. I can't write as well with my left."
"What? Why not." Somehow, Benrey managed to sound more upset that Gordon was not ambidextrous than his 'bad handwriting,' which made him snort a laugh, "Can't write with both hands? Not like, fuckin'- Spongebob?"
"No!" Gordon laughed, "Can you?"
"Yeah. Duh. Obviously. Can write things... Twice as fast, bro."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gordon waved his left hand at Benrey as he tried not to laugh, "You're not- whatever. Sure Benrey." He'd never seen the guard write anything, so it's not as if he knew for certain. Still, there was an infinitely higher probability that Benrey was bullshitting him rather than genuinely being ambidextrous.
"Which film was your favorite, Gordon?"
Glancing over to where Dr. Coomer had seated himself, Gordon perked back upright, fiddling with his ponytail as he processed what he was being asked, "What? Sorry- I wasn't listening."
"We were talking about All Dogs Go To Heaven and its beloved sequel All Dogs Go To Heaven Two! Which was your favorite, Gordon?"
Honestly, Gordon didn't have strong feelings on either movie, but his death hadn't been edited into the first one, so there was an obvious answer in that alone, "The first one probably."
Folding his arms over his chest, Benrey jutted his chin out, "Second one's a cinematic masterpiece, bro. Got, all the staples of a good film. Dogs, coming back from the dead more than once, uh, biblical references and going to jail. What more do you want."
"I don't know," Gordon sighed in exasperation, "Maybe some plot coherency? I mean, when is a sequel ever better than the original, anyway?"
"Alien. Mad Max. Friday the Thirteenth. Jason vs. Freddy."
"I haven't seen any of those, but probably for good reason, because they sound like shit."
Benrey turned to look at him head-on, his eyes narrowing, and Gordon got the feeling that the guard was suddenly sizing him up, "Bro, you haven't seen Alien? I'm hurt; you kill me."
Before he could step in with his reasoning, Bubby sniffed loudly, "I'm finding it hard to believe you haven't seen Alien, Gordon. You worked at Black Mesa, for god's sake, and you've still never seen it?"
Throwing his arms in the air, Gordon let out a groan, "I didn't have infinite free time to watch all the classic movies, okay? I was busy working. I didn't even work in the places with aliens. I didn't know Black Mesa had aliens. Plus, with Joshua at home, I can't exactly put a scary movie like that on.
"So you're babying your son? You can't even expose him to one movie about aliens?"
"He's five"
"Age has nothing to do about someone's ability to enjoy a movie Gordon!"
Gordon felt like he was going to lose his mind. Out of every topic to get stuck on with Bubby, of fucking course, it was going to be the most mundane and stupid of things. "It has everything to do with whether somebody's going to enjoy a movie! You can't compare your eighty-year-old self to a five-year-old! He likes fucking Toy Story and Strawberry Shortcake! I'm not showing him Alien."
Bubby scoffed, his glasses glinting in the overhead light, and Gordon had a sudden memory of the doctor lighting things on fire when he got riled up. They were in public, so the likelihood of him doing something like that was probably low. For Gordon's own sanity, he was going to assume the chances of Bubby lighting something on fire out of frustration were low, but still not zero. Which wasn't ideal, seeing how snappy he was getting.
"I'm not eighty," He leered, "I'm barely old!"
Dr. Coomer let out a laugh and patted his fellow doctor's shoulder consolingly, which somehow seemed to bring Bubby back down to his usual grumpy levels, "We are quite older than the rest of the Science Team, professor."
"It's doctor, and you know it," Bubby sighed, finally leaning back to cross one leg over the other.
"Yes, but you correct me each time, and I think it's funny."
Gordon relaxed as the two older scientists went back and forth with their jabs at each other. He liked the Science Team; he really did. They could just be a bit much when he wasn't prepared for it. But for now, he was content to watch Tommy disinterestedly flip through the bland-looking magazines on the table before he had to go get his hand checked out.