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Gordon abruptly sits bolt upright in his makeshift bed from a dead sleep with no idea what had awoken him. He looks around with eyes glazed over, breaths coming hard and fast. He looks down at himself, startled by the lack of an HEV suit protecting his thin body. He’s on his feet in an instant, patting himself down in an attempt to confirm reality. Unfortunately, it is very real, and his armor is gone. He’s wearing nothing but a stained t-shirt and pants that may be a size too big for him. No shoes or socks. He scans the near-empty room, all of his weapons are missing as well. Save for one, that crowbar he’s been carting around for who knows how long. He finds it on the floor next to where he’s been sleeping, snatching it up. Without the added assistance of the HEV, it throws him off balance slightly, and he scrambles to compensate. It’s very heavy without the armor, but it will have to do.
The door leading out of the room is closed, but thankfully not locked. He won’t have to break out just yet. In the corridor beyond the room, dim lights illuminate everything. There are two armed guards walking away from Gordon’s room, causing him to dart in the opposite direction of them and around a corner. He nearly runs face first into another two guards, who seem to be conversing about something, making Gordon jump back. They both look at him, clearly confused as he raises the crowbar in defense and backs away. He thinks he hears one of them say his name, but doesn’t stop. He breaks into a sprint toward the first two guards he saw, lifting his weapon and swinging it at one of their heads. It connects with a horrible metal-on-flesh sound and makes the person cry out, falling to their knees in an instant. Just as planned, Gordon gets past them with the distraction, the second guard kneeling down to help. He thinks for a moment he hears one of them yell his name, too.
Gordon reaches a fork in the hallway, and hesitates for a split second before turning left. He takes off yet again, his heart firmly lodged in his throat as he does. There’s another fork ahead, where yet another guard nearly trips him by stepping out in front of him. This one doesn’t appear to be armed, the former physicist notices and he skids by them. Yet again, the guard calls out, telling him to slow down. He doesn’t. Not even for a second as he starts to round a curve.
The curve suddenly opens up into a large concrete room, lights on full bright overhead. There are at least a dozen guards milling everywhere, mostly unarmed- why were so few armed?- or just sitting around a few tables. Gordon freezes just at the edge of the room. None of them have noticed him, and he resolves to keep it that way. He lets the crowbar hang by his side, pressing in close to the wall and beginning to make his way around the room to a large mechanical door. That’s going to make some noise, he supposes, but if he’s already inside and closes it fast enough, being spotted won’t matter in the slightest.
He manages to slip into the door without incident, hand hovering over the keypad on the other side for a few moments, unable to read any of the numbers on it without glasses. He waits a few moments too long, he decides, repeatedly raising his weapon and bringing it down on the electronics. The force of his swings sends shockwaves up through his arm on contact, making him grit his teeth against the pain. An alarm over his head starts to blare, a bright yellow light beginning to flash as well. The door does slide closed, though, and he doesn’t catch the sound of gunfire on the other side. The guards are more than likely aware of his presence now, though, so he makes quick work of the second keypad. The second set of doors slide open as well, smacking him in the face with cold night air. Gordon gives himself just a moment to breathe it in deeply, then begins to sprint once again. Short, sharp grass and rocks dig into his feet as he runs, but he does his best to ignore that. In the distance is a chain link gate, also open, also guarded, but no one is firing yet. Alarms are going off behind him, and something is happening by the gate- they’re closing it, Gordon realizes abruptly, and frantically starts to search for another way around. He spots it easily enough, a place where the fence has been bent up at the bottom with a gap large enough for him to squeeze through on his hands and knees. He changes directions and aims for that.
Then he becomes aware of the running steps coming up behind him. They’re heavy, and much, much faster than him. Fear turns his veins to ice as Gordon realizes he’s about to be tackled, and he’s so, so close to the fence! He makes one more push, one more effort to just be that much faster than his pursuer…
It fails instantly when his foot catches on a stone he didn’t see in the dark. He puts his hands out to catch himself as he falls, gets ready to roll on his back and defend himself, when huge arms suddenly wrap around his torso. He does fall, but instead of hitting the ground and being crushed by the person that grabbed him, the person shifts mid fall. Both of them land on their sides, Gordon letting out a strangled cry as they do. He’s been mostly cushioned by his assailant, instantly struggling to get up when he realizes they aren’t letting go.
“Jesus, Gordon, will you hold on just a hot second…?” Barney Calhoun asks, breathless. Gordon can’t mistake that voice. He feels Barney’s chest heaving against his back, whining and once again struggling to stand. “If I let ya go… are you gonna run?” Barney questions, and Gordon shakes his head no. Barney opens his arms and Gordon rolls out of them, pushing to his feet. He still grips his crowbar in trembling hands. Barney slowly gets to his feet as well, a large hand being set on Gordon’s shoulder. “Gordon… what the hell were you thinkin’ ? Where were you goin’?”
Gordon releases one hand to sign a response, but Barney stops him. “Y’know what? Let’s do this inside, you’re gonna catch cold…”
Gordon shakes his head, taking a step back. Barney doesn’t get it, they can’t just walk back in-
Both hands land on his shoulders heavily, Barney leaning down to look him in the eyes. “Gordon, you’re in White Forest! Let’s go, please darlin’.”
Gordon’s eyes widen at that realization. Now that he thinks of it… the halls did look familiar, none of the guards are Combine…
...He had hit a regular, unarmed person full force with his crowbar. No, no, that wasn’t right, but- Barney wouldn’t lie, not to him, not now after everything… Gordon’s breaths pick up again, shallow and uneven.
Barney sighs. “C’mon, Doc… Let’s go back inside…” He moves, putting an arm firmly around the smaller man and starting to walk him back to the entrance.
Gordon easily leans into his side, a slight limp to his step. He can’t see well, but still looks down to his feet.
The pair are back in the complex before Gordon knows it. The alarms have stopped, and there’s already someone working to repair the keypads he broke. Gordon winces, Barney gives his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.
“It ain’t your fault, Doc.” He voices softly. He takes Gordon’s weapon from his hands, setting it by the wall near the repairman. Gordon whines in protest, but is ignored. Then, at full volume, he exclaims, “Oh, Jesus, Gordon!”
Gordon glances up, first realizing in the full light that Barney looks as though he’s just rolled out of bed. He still has marks under his eyes, his hair mussed up more than usual. His shirt is rumpled, and his pants don’t match at all, meaning he just threw them on for Gordon’s sake, same with his boots. While he’s looking down, his gaze trails to where Barney’s worried eyes are fixed. Gordon is leaving bloody footprints on the floor and didn’t even notice. He should feel alarmed… but isn’t all that surprised. The pain is already barely starting to creep in and he cringes.
“Alright, that’s it…” Barney starts, shifting and scooping Gordon off of his injuries. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up, then you an’ me are havin’ a talk, this is…” He shakes his head, going toward Gordon’s room. “I’m real worried about you, you know…”
Gordon nods. [I’m so sorry.]
“I told you, it’s not your fault. We just… We need to find you ways to cope, Gordon. You’re not takin’ the end of all this well at all, I mean, shit… Where’d ya even get a new crowbar?”
[Found it. Needed it.] Gordon signs.
“Ya don’t need a weapon anymore… You, of all people, don’t need to be prepared for another fight. It’s not comin’, Gordy.” Barney’s voice is softer now.
Gordon sighs, resting his head against Barney’s chest. He’s warm, warmer than the night air had been. He’s set on his cot all too soon, protesting with a small noise. Barney ignores it as he goes to close the door. At the same time, he goes to retrieve a first aid kit from the corner. He makes his way back over to Gordon, kneeling down by his ankles. He sets to work patching Gordon up. “Alrighty… Now what happened tonight?” He asks, looking up to watch the other man sign.
[I wasn’t here.] He answers slowly.
Barney hums. “Right… Brain put ya someplace else.”
Gordon nods, Barney isn’t looking anymore, though. He flinches and pulls away as Barney touches a particularly painful spot.
“Sorry, darlin’, almost done…” The guard carefully reassures. He’s right, too, as it only takes him a few more minutes to finish up. He puts away what’s left of the supplies, standing at the door with his arms crossed. “You should try an’ rest a li’l more, okay? We’ll have that talk tomorra.”
At that, Gordon looks startled. The idea of being left alone after what he did is… crushing, to say the least. It can’t happen again, what if he had had a gun? He frantically starts to sign, [Don’t leave!]
Barney carefully raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
[Scared.] Gordon answers, looking away. [Please, I’m sorry.]
“No, no, hey…” Barney comes to kneel next to the cot again, this time by his face. “Hey, it’s all right… I’ll stick around if ya want, I can sleep just ‘bout anywhere.” The man chuckles, and that eases Gordon’s nerves some. He shifts to sit against the wall, kicking his boots off at the same time. “I got your back, Gordy, don’t worry.”
[Thank you. Thank you, thank you-] Gordon’s thanks are only stopped by Barney gently grabbing his hand.
“Relax, Doc. It’s all right. I’m here, I gotcha, you don’t gotta thank me.” Barney sighs, relaxing.
Gordon does his best to follow suit, ignoring the dull burn-ache in his feet as he tries to get comfortable. He closes his eyes, and lays there. Barney starts to snore next to him after what feels like an hour, but may have only been a few minutes.
It’s something to listen to, at least, seeing as sleep isn’t going to find the former physicist anytime soon.