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The flickering lights and the endless cement walls of Black Mesa blended into each other, as Dr. Coomer stumbled through the halls of the facility, alone for the first time since the Resonance Cascade, the absence of his chattering teammates a deafening silence to his ears.
Dr. Coomer was no stranger to silences. He had spent most of his life sitting in them after all, dedicating himself solely to his work since his divorce, and never being particularly good at socializing either. But it didn’t mean he was a fan of silence. In fact, he was so not a fan, that when Black Mesa had handed him a clunky, buggy, risk-taking robotic lab assistant and told him to give it a human’s sense of self-preservation, he may have gone… a bit overboard, programming himself a friend instead.
He hadn’t intended to let it get so far as to create something that both acted and believed itself alive, but then again, he hadn’t intended a lot of things. He hadn’t intended for the Resonance Cascade experiment to go awry, with his friend at the epicenter of its explosion. He hadn’t intended to grow fond of the group of oddballs he traversed the alien-infested halls of Black Mesa with. And he certainly hadn’t meant to turn a blind eye when said oddballs started talking amongst themselves, plotting an ambush against his beloved creation right under his oblivious nose. His fists curled up at the thought.
They’d betrayed him. They’d betrayed their friend Gordon, tossed him to the hands of the military like he was worth less than scrap metal. And Dr. Coomer had just watched it happen, doing nothing to stop it.
He clasped his hand to his mouth suddenly, trying desperately to contain a sob that bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t afford to get upset now, he had to find where they took him. Right now, his best bet was making his way to the cybernetics department. If they didn’t just tear Gor… the robot apart for scraps, the military was going to need the proper equipment and resources to repair him for him to be any sort of useful. Cybernetics was the only department that contained said resources. Thinking logically, with a peppering of hope he had no right to have, Dr. Coomer knew the road to the cybernetics department would be difficult to navigate without a mental map of the facilities as he possessed. So perhaps, he could get there before the military arrived with Gordon. And then-
Well, he’d cross that pit of radioactive goop when he got to it.
The old doctor startled as he realized muffled voices had crept into his racing thoughts, and he quickly scrambled around the corner to hide from whoever or… whatever was approaching. Cupping a hand around his ear, he listened closer, trying to make out what was being said.
“-oing to have to swim under something that’s like a Beyblade but big,” the voice faded in, rising up from the sewer tunnel below him, almost immediately recognizable as Tommy. Coomer wasn’t sure if he should feel relief or fear at that. On one hand, out of the entire science team, Tommy seemed the least hostile towards the goal of rescuing Gordon. After all, Tommy had cried out for Gordon even louder than himself as his arm was-... well, he didn’t have to think about that right now. But on the other hand, if Tommy was with the others, he’d be quite the formidable opponent. One to rival Benry in power.
“Im guessing r-r-raw sewage isn’t good to get in a wound like- like this either,” came the next voice, deep and distorted by an unmistakable glitching sound that made Coomer’s heart jump straight to his throat.
Gordon. He was alive. Intact. And with Tommy, no less.
Coomer realized they were in the sewage tunnels below him, and he quickly crawled over to a grate in the floor, hoping to catch a glance of the robot. Sure enough, he could see his friend, thrashing around in the water, and he looked… well, quite worse for wear. Besides his right arm being torn off, exposed wires meeting dirty water in a way that made his robiticist’s heart cringe, his entire body was littered with dings and scratches indicative of being tossed around carelessly by military goons, and his visor display flashed a deep red. That… wasn’t good. Tommy trailed behind him slightly, gun pointed directly at Gordon as usual, though from his vantage point, he couldn’t tell if the display was one of nerves, or if it was a genuine threat. Both were equally likely.
Pulling himself back upright, Coomer mulled over his options. The way Gordon was built to see himself as real, as human … he knew his programming wouldn’t be capable of processing such a large amount of damage and still keep the illusion stable. The red lights and glitching voice were proof enough. He also knew he couldn’t simply be told , the failsafes set to block out or brush over all indications of his artificiality. He had to be shown the truth, and quickly, before his mind was damaged beyond repair.
Looking between his feet again, he watched as Gordon swam out of his sight, making his way to the collection pool just around the corner. Tommy lingered behind, seeming to be on the lookout for alien threats. Thinking on his toes, Coomer kicked some rubble into the next grate over, drawing Tommy’s attention away from the robot and back towards the direction he came.
This was his chance.
As Gordon struggled to drag himself out of the pool of sewage, he was greeted by the view of Dr. Coomer smiling down at him, though it looked strained. “Hhhh- hello Doctor Coo- oomer,” he stammered out instinctively.
“Hello Gordon!” Coomer greeted back, before yanking him out of the pool with his extendo-arms and flipping him onto his back.
The scientist wasted no time crawling on top of the robot, trying to keep him pinned with one arm while working with the other. He gritted his teeth as Gordon thrashed underneath him, yelling for help. The sound of his distress made tears well up in the doctor’s eyes. If he could just reach in there and connect the right wires as fast as possible… please, please let this be quick he thought, as he tore open the panel in the back of Gordon’s head. The robot cried out again, this time for Tommy, and Coomer wracked his already rather occupied brain for something to say, some sort of excuse to calm him down. “There’s an entrance in your suit, Dr. Freeman,” he started, glancing down at the gaping hole that was once Gordon’s arm, trying to keep the tone of his voice as calm as possible despite the situation, “and I just need to… get in here to f-”
Focused on his task as he was, Coomer was thrown for a complete loop as he was tackled off his target by a tall figure - Tommy, he realized a second too late - and knocked to the ground, Gordon scrabbling out from underneath him and running away. “No!” he cried out, and instinctively moved to punch his assaulter, but the younger man was stronger and quicker than he appeared, easily deflecting the blow and pointing his gun to the old man’s head faster than he could blink.
“Wh-what the hell were you trying t-to do to Mr. Freeman?!” he demanded, speaking in a tone that sounded just as distressed as it did threatening.
Coomer knew better than to underestimate his opponent, and immediately held his arms up in surrender. “Please, Tommy, let me up, we can’t let him get away! We have to-”
Tommy pressed the barrel of the gun harder against his temple, and Coomer gulped. “Why were you attacking him? Were you- you trying to tear him apart? Why would you hurt Mr. Freeman?”
Despite his predicament, Coomer winced as Tommy sounded like he was about to cry. He’d misjudged Tommy’s intentions severely, he realized. He must have been protecting Gordon all this time. He took a deep breath to focus himself. “Tommy, listen to me. I wouldn’t betray Gordon. We must-” his breath hitched, and he had to swallow back his nerves before continuing, “we must modify him quickly so he can recognize his robotic nature! He cannot continue on, injured as he is without being able to comprehend his predicament. I’m sure you’ve seen how it’s affected his cognitive capability already…”
Hesitantly, Tommy lowered his firearm, though not taking his finger off the trigger completely. “So… you didn’t betray him with the others?”
“I understand your hesitation Dr. Coolatta, but I can assure you I was unaware of dear Bubby and Benry’s… conspiring,” his expression turned sour. “I do not approve of what they have done. But now is not the time to discuss this, I am afraid if we continue to allow Dr. Freeman to wander the facility alone and damaged as he is, he may hurt himself, or… worse.”
Finally, Tommy moved away, seeming to believe him as he glanced around looking for the man he was supposed to be protecting. “Crap!” he exclaimed, as he just now noticed the disappearance of the robot in question. Though his location wasn’t a mystery for long, as from the direction they just came, they heard strangled cries of help, warped by glitches that drawled out the syllables of Tommy’s name.
Coomer stood back up shakily, reaching out for Tommy’s shoulder before he could move to Gordon’s aid. “Tommy, please,” he insisted, the tone of his voice turning low in that way it only did when he was serious. “Bring him back to me. I can fix him, but he won’t be able to understand what I’m doing until I’m finished, and he may fight back against me or panic. I need your help to keep him down until the process is complete.” Tommy only nodded in response, expression stern, before running off quickly to collect their mutual friend.
It was only until after the fellow scientist was out of sight that Coomer slumped down against a wall, and finally allowed himself to cry.
If he wasn’t convinced already, Coomer’s story was only further cemented as true in Tommy’s mind as he ran back and found his friend floundering in a pool of sewer water they had just traversed. Sparking wires hung out his arm and now, also the back of his head, as he struggled to so much as grab the edge of the pool. “Tommyy-yyy-y,” he trawled out, and the older scientist grimaced at the way his voice glitched so unnaturally, “bring me-me-me up, I can’t get out with one arm-m.” Oh god, was that the reasoning his programming was coming up with?
Tommy didn’t hesitate to reach forward, pulling Gordon out of the water with an unnatural strength. “It’s ok Mr. Freeman, I- I’ve got you,” he reassured him softly, slinging the robot’s good arm around his neck and grabbing his waist so he could walk him back to the room Coomer was in. Gordon’s form slumped against him, hardly able to carry its own weight as his limbs malfunctioned under him.
Clearly dazed, Gordon nevertheless continued to slur out whatever nonsense his mind was coming up with. “Did- did- did you get them all? Did you kiiiiiiiiiiiii- kill all the clones?”
“I killed them all!” Tommy responded automatically, trying not to think too hard about what Gordon was saying, or what he had to do next. He just needed to reassure Gordon, keep him safe until he got him to Dr. Coomer. Dr. Coomer could fix him. He had to.
“Whhhhhhhh- what about the re-re-real one?” Gordon froze, clearly scared of the thought.
Tommy didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed silent, stopping despite his desperation to get Gordon the help he needed. He wasn’t gonna get anywhere like this. As if to confirm that thought, Gordon slumped off his shoulder further. “IIIIIIIIIIIII need a rest, d-d-dude,” he curled up as he hit the floor, grasping uselessly at his injured arm, voice warbling like he was crying even though no tears could come out. “This is-is-is the worst day of myyyyyy life.”
Sliding down next to him, Tommy placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Um… do you want a soda?” he asked, not sure how to comfort his friend in a way that would get him to cooperate with moving again. He had to get him over to Dr. Coomer, but they were going nowhere fast with Gordon panicking like this, and leaving Gordon or calling out to Coomer would only stress the robot out further. Wracking his head, Tommy glanced across to the other room, and his eyes lit up as he saw a first aid kit on the opposite wall. Silently, he directed the robot’s attention towards it.
“IIIIIIIII- I think I’m losing a lo- lot of blood,” Gordon muttered, pulling himself up against the wall, to Tommy’s relief. Slowly, he trudged his way towards the first aid kit, Tommy trailing behind him. He glanced around the corner as Gordon uselessly punched it, spotting Coomer curled up on the ground. Had he been crying? He guessed it didn’t matter right now. Tommy nodded, and Coomer nodded back, as Gordon whined at the unresponsive machine.
As Gordon seemed to give up on coaxing blood out of the machine, he turned around, and Tommy braced himself for what he expected to be a scared reaction from Gordon at the sight of his previous assailant. Yet, for whatever reason, Gordon’s gaze seemed to glance over the crouching figure, and he stumbled past him unfazed. Not willing to let another opportunity pass, Dr. Coomer sprang to life, a yell of “Surprise attack!” Gordon’s only warning before being tackled to the ground yet again.
Wasting no time, Tommy held the robot down, trying not to think about what he was doing as Gordon gave out a strangled cry of confusion and fear. That cry became distorted as Coomer grasped at the wires in the back of his head, desperately searching for the right ones to disconnect. Pulling one seemed to limit Gordon’s range of motion significantly, his legs going from kicking violently to dropping to the floor, and between the garbled yells Tommy heard Gordon mutter something about swimming. He hardly had time to dwell on it however, as the pull of another wire sent Gordon further into his frenzy, and it took all of Tommy’s concentration to keep him steady enough for Coomer to work.
“How long is this going to- to take?” Tommy yelled over the sound of Gordon’s desperate struggles. The robot was crying out his name now, making Tommy bite his lip in sympathy. He wasn’t sure how long he could take this himself, further doubting the efficacy of this plan by the second.
By the look of it, the older doctor didn’t seem to be doing too well himself, muttering apologies and curses as he leaned into his work. “It… it should only be a few moments longer my dear boy. I have to connect his old memory bank - the one from before he was Gordon - to the current one.” Coomer glanced up from what he was doing, locking eyes with Tommy, and for a moment the younger scientist glimpsed a potent mixture of fear, love, and determination in his gaze; a special concoction of emotions that he suspected only a parent making a difficult decision for the sake of their child’s wellbeing could feel.
“This may hurt a bit,” he said, and plugged a wire in.
The corrupted scream that came rivaled all the ones before it, and Tommy was forced to let go of Gordon’s arms as he yanked himself back, grasping desperately at the wires in his own head. Through the static noise, he could still hear snippets of Gordon’s desperate pleas to get out get out get the FUCK OUT OF HIS HEAD , though Dr. Coomer’s hands had already left his head, his body knocked away like he just got flung off a bucking bronco. He stumbled, trying to right himself, shouting out to Tommy as he held his head, “In his chest panel, pull out his battery! We have to reset him for the changes to take full effect!”
“Wh-” Tommy paused in his tracks for a moment, before incredulity hit him. “Why didn’t you just have us do that in the first place?!?!” he yelled back. Still, he didn’t think twice about scrambling back to the writhing mass of metal that was Gordon on the floor, wrapping his arms around the figure in some approximation of a hug, and ripping open his front panel, battery coming with it.
Exhaustion hit as both Tommy and Gordon sunk to the floor, one heaving breathless, and the other ragdolling lifelessly on the ground, though the lights in his visor still flashed error red somehow. Coomer, still holding his head (Tommy noted it was bleeding) wandered over to their sides, pulling the battery from Tommy’s hand. “My apologies… my dear boy…” he said between heavy breaths, slotting the battery back in its place, though the fit was now a little skewed. “I was… afraid without proper access to the software and backups, that taking his power source away during the combination process would reset his memory entirely, and erase the Gordon we know and love.”
Tommy pushed himself up by his elbows, leaning against Gordon’s chest. A glance at his visor showed power was being restored and his system was being rebooted, though the progress bar looked as though it was going to take ages. He frowned. Loose wires from his head framed his face like hair, and if Tommy squinted, he could almost pretend he was looking at a human face, just wearing some fancy vr goggles perhaps. With gentle hands that didn’t betray the strength they displayed just moments prior, he brushed the wires back, collecting them neatly in the back of Gordon’s head and shutting the panel over them.
Coomer sighed as he watched this, patting Gordon’s chest with a dull metallic thump- ing sound. He thought about crying again, but considering the past several hours had been spent doing such on and off, he just felt empty. “Thank you Tommy,” he spoke low, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I could have done all that without your help.”
“It felt wrong,” Tommy said sharply, still looking at Gordon’s face.
“It was wrong,” Coomer confirmed. He scooched forward, putting one of his own hands against Gordon’s visor-display. “It was wrong to give a robot meant for simple laboratory assistance sentience. It was wrong to fill his head with false memories. It was wrong to keep the truth from him. But we can’t take back those decisions. I can’t.” His fists clenched and unclenched where they rested, and Tommy watched a set of unreadable emotions cross his face in rapid succession, before settling on something resigned, “I can only hope that, after all of this, we can finally start to set things right for him.”
The silence lingered only for a moment, before Tommy broke out a question. “You care for him, li- like another person, don’t you Dr. Coomer?”
“Like a son, yes,” Coomer answered, without a hint of hesitation. “You care for him too, don’t you Tommy?”
Tommy didn’t feel the need to answer. Instead, he stood up, dusting off his labcoat despite being irreversibly stained by blood and sewage. “I think the reboot is going to take- uh, take a while,” he said, offering a hand to the older scientist. “We should move him so he’s more comfortable when he wakes up.”
Coomer only nods, and allows Tommy to pull him to his feet. He’s done enough dwelling in the past few hours. It was time to start fixing his mistake.