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Like most nights as of late, Gordon Freeman sits awake on his cot with his knees pulled up to his chest. His still-frail body shivers in the night air, exposed without the HEV suit and the blanket twisted by his feet. He looks far weaker like this, he knows. It's not like he's worn the armor in weeks, but that feeling of it still ghosts over his bruised skin. Tired dark green eyes dart around the darkened room, mostly fixated on the door as his mind wanders to impossibly far places. From his former "employer", to the alien homeworld he'd been sent to, to the far reaches of his mind, where nothing dwelled but the dark energy of past events he just couldn't change. Sometimes, he reeled himself back in to reality, where he sits in a drafty room in the middle of the night, just waiting for the next threat to barge in and catch him defenseless.
He's defenseless, he realizes with a sudden spike in his chest. There's nothing to defend himself with. He looks around the room, spotting… not much. A lamp on the bedside table with his glasses, not a lot else. That would do, he thought, and then he'd check the perimeter, just to be sure everything was as it should be. Yes, and then…
Well, he isn't sure what then. One step at a time. He uncurls from his previous position, joints protesting as he does. He ignores them, not for the first time. Shaking, scarred hands work quickly to unplug the lamp, removing the light bulb just as fast for his own safety. The cord is wound around it, and just like that, he's off.
The hallway outside his door still has lights on, of course. It's not like he's alone here, White Forest has quickly become a refugee camp after the war, and a busy one at that. Not everything went dark and silent at once, he knows. Hefting the lamp as a makeshift weapon, he moves closer to the right hand wall and starts along the path, taking a left turn at a fork.
Gordon isn't sure how long he's been wandering, but he's hardly seen anyone. He's not sure if that's good or bad, it sets him on edge nonetheless. He's in a particularly dim part of the base, his mind lost to the void again, when he catches the sound of footsteps. They're coming fairly quick, decently heavy, and in Gordon's sleep deprived mind, that's a threat. He ducks behind a stack of crates, easily hidden behind them, as the steps get closer. He holds the lamp tight to his chest, running through a mental list of what it could possibly again and again. He's trembling all over, sweat forming and sliding down between his shoulder blades.
Until Alyx's voice fills the space. "Gordon?" She asks the open air. She sounds confused, and concerned, that fact punching Gordon in the face.
Slowly, he turns and stands, peeking past the crate stack looking above him. Yep, that's Alyx. He steps out, weapon still clutched close.
It doesn't take her long to spot him, and when she does, she's clearly relieved. "Gordon, there you are. Are you… awake?" She asks, cautiously approaching.
The former physicist nods, meeting her partway.
"Oh, good… Some others said they saw you wandering around, I was worried you…" She doesn't finish that thought, instead shaking her head. She reaches out and takes his wrist gently. "Come on… you need rest, it's okay. We have plenty of people keeping watch, you don't have to do it yourself, doc."
Gordon doesn't have the strength to argue, so he doesn't. He simply lets her lead him wherever.
"Wherever" turns out to be the control room, and subsequently the attached makeshift lab. It was all a temporary setup, but becoming more and more permanent every day. There were only a few others in the room, Gordon's eyes glancing over them only for a few moments. He doesn't register anyone there.
"Look who I found." Alyx announces as she pulls him into the room.
"Oh, dear…" That's Kleiner. "Gordon, you should be asleep."
"Yeah, that's kind of what we're here about…" Alyx trails.
Kleiner hums. "Well… I hesitate giving him anything, really, his body isn't quite over the morphine addiction yet… Do we know what happened?"
"Not a clue. I don't think it was a panic attack this time. He clearly isn't all there, though." Alyx answers, Gordon is grateful they aren't asking him questions.
"The Freeman is sick." He recognizes the deep voice of a Vortigaunt, and judging by the setting, it had to be Uriah.
"Sick?" Alyx's hand presses into his forehead. Gordon can't help but flinch at the unexpected contact, looking up at the girl with wide eyes. He blinks.
"Not a sickness of the body, a sickness of the mind. The Freeman is searching for something that will not come." Uriah explains. The Vorts always had a way of knowing what was on his mind, and he didn't like it. Gordon abruptly registers what he's been saying, casting his eyes down to the floor. Oh, he isn't even wearing shoes…
"Right, mental illness. We know Gordon's been dealing with that." Alyx again.
"This is different. The Freeman longs for battle. For a fight that has since ended. He searches for an opponent that no longer exists, yet in his mind the war still rages. He cannot let go of the thoughts." Rather unfairly, Uriah lays out Gordon's exact feelings. Still, the man doesn't protest.
"That would be the post-traumatic stress." That would be Kleiner. "It gets worse with lack of sleep, I've noticed. For him, I mean."
Gordon's shoulders slumped. They're talking like he isn't even there.
"Gordon?" Alyx's hand lightly brushes his shoulder. He doesn't react.
"The Freeman's mind is otherwise occupied. Sleep will not find him easily. I will assist, and bring it to him." Uriah steps forward, central hand waving to grab Gordon's attention. It partially works.
Gordon looks up into the large red eye, blinking again. "Follow, Freeman." Uriah instructs gently, turning. Gordon numbly follows him, as asked.
"Ah, Gordon…" Alyx gives him pause, gently taking the lamp from his grasp. He whines in protest. "I know, it's okay. It's safe here, Gordon, you don't need this." She reassures, having no choice but to believe her.
When he goes to follow the Vort again, the creature is in the next room, a small alcove with a cot in it. The cot has been moved so that it's centered in the space, the lumpy pillow moved to the end closest to the opening. It's impossible for Gordon to tell whose it is, Uriah beckoning him closer.
"Come, Freeman."
Gordon glances back to where Alyx and Kleiner are as he does, seeing them both standing at a monitor, looking at something. Without their input, Gordon tenses, but does as the Vort asks. He's next to the cot when the alien gestures to it, clearly instructing Gordon to lay down.
"Be at ease, Freeman. No harm will come here." He encourages, and finally Gordon obliges. He lays flat on his back, looking up and watching as Uriah moves to stand over him, by his head. "There is a storm inside of the Freeman's mind. It is swelling, and causing great pain." He observes. Energy starts to form around the Vort's two outer hands, making Gordon jump and start to sit up. The central hand grabs his shoulder, lightly pulling him back down. Gordon lets it happen. "I will calm this storm. It is not permanent, for that, the Freeman must find his own inner peace. For this night, I will allow the Freeman to rest. It has been earned."
With that, Uriah's hands, buzzing with energy, press against Gordon's head over his ears. At first, he's plunged into absolute silence. Even the constant ringing in his ears stops. His eyes fall closed and he feels rather than hears a small noise slip from his throat. His hands curl at his sides, and then the chanting starts. It's low and guttural, he recognizes it from when the Vorts took him from his "employer", the man in the suit. There's just one voice this time now, though, low, and soothing. Gordon feels his mind all but melt. Every thought is gone, past and present. Every feeling dissipates and he goes slack. He lets out a shaking breath, the sound reverberating in his head. That's the last thing he comprehends.
Seeing Gordon go so limp on the cot, Uriah carefully pulls away from him. The energy around his hands disperses, letting him reach for a thin blanket he'd moved to the side. He spreads it over the sleeping scientist, placing a gentle hand on the side of his face when he finishes. "The Freeman rests peacefully now." The Vortigaunt voices softly, then turns to rejoin the other two humans.
Alyx leans on the doorway to the lab, watching in wonder. "He looks so peaceful… What'd you do?"
"The Freeman's mind was purged of thought. It is a crude way to explain, as it is much more. Your kind cannot understand, however." Uriah explains, moving to work with something on the counter close by.
"Huh. So… you did some kind of… funky space-time deal to shut his brain off?" Alyx tries again.
Uriah pauses to think. "'Funky space-time deal' is an… adequate explanation, yes."
Delighted, Alyx grins. "Cool. Thanks for helping him, Uriah." She pushes off the door frame, and starts to leave.
"It is an honor to assist the Freeman." The Vort voices, but lets her go.
Once she's left the lab, and the control room, Kleiner enters. He spares Gordon a glance, then starts with something on the counter next to Uriah. "Funky space-time deal?"
"Yes. It is comprehensible, is it not?" Uriah answers.
"I suppose it is." Kleiner relents, and they fall into a quiet working rhythm, careful not to disturb Gordon.