Chapter Text
It had only been a day after escaping Black Mesa when Gordon started to feel sick.
He was moving into his new apartment with the science team when the first wave of nausea hit. He sat down, held his head in his hands and felt his entire body go cold.
“Mr. Freeman, are you alright?” Tommy asked him, pausing what he was doing to go check on him.
The other’s words were distant and warped, but Gordon nodded curtly. “Yeah. Fine. Just uh, just gimme a second.”
Tommy watched him for a moment, then kept moving boxes. If Mr. Freeman said he was fine, he didn’t want help.
Gordon took a few deep breaths, then tried to stand again. He braced himself against the wall and took another breath. He was fine. He had to be fine, there were people around.
“Hey, thanks for all the help so far, but I can uh, I can take it from here for today. You guys can head home.” He announced to the group, doing his best to stand upright while he spoke.
Dr. Coomer and Tommy exchanged a glance.
“If you say so, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said with a cheery tone. “Make sure to get plenty of rest, now. Would you like us to come by tomorrow to continue helping?”
“Uh, no, I think I can manage. Thanks, though. I’ll see you guys later.” Gordon offered a weak grin and waved as they left.
Bubby stared at him for a moment, before scoffing and following Dr. Coomer.
Gordon watched him go. What was that about? He didn’t have much time to think about it before he keeled over, his head throbbing like it was shot and a whole new wave of nausea washing over him.
“Fuck”, he swore through his teeth and curled up on the couch again. His skin felt like a layer of ice had entombed him and his hands were shaking badly. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He would be fine, his heart was racing and he felt like he was dying, but he would be fine.
He barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up.
His world was fuzzy and his head felt like it was swimming, his body too hot and too cold all at once. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He startled, scrambling back and reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.
“Calm down, it’s just me.” The face came into focus as the other gently put his glasses back in place.
“Bubby? Jesus, y-you startled me, why are you still here?” Gordon asked, pushing his hair out of his face.
“I told Dr. Coomer and Tommy to head home. They didn’t ask questions. Come on, get up.” Bubby instructed, standing up and offering him a hand.
Gordon took it and stood with him. “I… I dunno if you wanna be here, Bubby. I think I’ve got a flu or something, I might be contagious.”
Bubby laughed, a sharp sound. “I know what withdrawals look like, Gordon. Come on, I’ll get you some water.”
Gordon paled and followed him silently, holding onto his arm like a lifeline. If he knew, did the others? How long had he known? His stomach twisted at the thought.
“Um, how did you… know?” He asked, glancing at Bubby.
“Benrey was quite unnerved when you asked him to shoot you in Black Mesa. I don’t think he realised why you were asking. You scared him badly, you know.” Bubby said, guiding Gordon to the couch and getting a glass of water for him from the kitchen.
Gordon stared at the floor. He’d scared Benrey? But- that didn’t matter, Benrey was dead. Gordon didn’t even like Benrey.
“Now you don’t have your HEV suit pumping you with morphine every time you get hurt, what are you going to do?” Bubby asked, handing him the water.
He took the water and took a hesitant sip. “I mean… what can I do? I wouldn’t know where to find it out here, and I don’t think they make prescriptions for it anymore, do they?”
Bubby huffed a laugh. “That’s of no concern. Do you want to go cold turkey, or do you want to wean yourself off?”
Gordon stared at him. “I… I just told you. I can’t wean myself off, I don’t have any access to anything.” He said, setting the glass on the side table and rubbing his prosthetic thumb with his biological one to calm his nerves.
“I’m a chemist, Gordon. A skilled one at that. I’m insulted you don’t seem to think so too.” Bubby crossed his arms.
Then it clicked. “Wait, you could just… make morphine for me?” Gordon asked.
“I don’t see why not. If you don’t trust me I could always just set you up with a plug. Though I don’t recommend that, as it would mean less of a moral obligation to you to actually get clean.” Bubby shrugged, glaring at the man across from him.
Gordon tried to ignore how… eager… this realisation made him feel.
“Uh, in that case, I would much rather wean myself off it. Do you have any on you right now?” He asked.
“You think I carry opioids on me? No, not since the nineties. I can go get some for you now if it’ll help with the withdrawal.” He said, eyeing him warily.
“Yes, that sounds good. That sounds like- good. That would be good.” Gordon nodded.
Bubby stared at him for a few moments, then stood up. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes. Drink some more water and lay down.”
Gordon grinned and nodded again. “Thank you, Bubby. You’re a real lifesaver.”
Bubby grumbled something and shut the front door behind him.