Chapter Text
[Monday, November 5th, 200X, 7:20, Black Mesa Transit System Tram headed for An. Mat.]
A tense looking Gordon Freeman, sporting his ponytail, glasses, and clean lab coat, sat almost nervously on the tram. He’s holding a briefcase- black mesa standard issue- on his lap, and seems to be gripping it with force. He stares straight ahead- his eyes focused on nothing, yet they seem to be revealing how he's painfully aware of the situation he’s in.
A Tired looking Barney Calhoun waltzes onto the tram at the stop after Gordon’s. He grabs a hold to one of the roof rails, and almost doesn’t notice Gordon. He tenses up when he sees him, as he’s used to riding the tram alone at this hour, and the fact that this guy looks noticeably young kind of surprises him.
BARNEY: you headed down to An Mat?
Gordon’s head snapped towards him, obviously startled, and after processing what he had been told, nodded.
BARNEY: Wait, so, you’re the new guy? But you’re like, my age! Honestly, when they told us there would be a young research assistant joining, we all thought- and by we I mean us security force guys here in sector C- we all thought that you know, this guy might be around, let’s say, forty-ish? I mean, Dr. Teasley is like, eighty! They keep telling him to retire but he just won’t quit. He almost had a fall the other day, likely I was on door duty so I wasn’t around to deal with that whole shit show, but-
GORDON, Internally: [Does this guy ever stop talking?]
BARNEY, still talking: -So you’ve got to understand that a guy like you is like a unicorn, a rare sight to behold, I mean hey it’s a welcome change! We could always use more young guys around here, I mean, Fridays were getting pretty boring. You know-
GORDON: [oh my gooooood. Please shut up.]
BARNEY: -Hey, I should see if the other guys would let you come hang out with us after our shifts, I mean if you want to. We mainly drink beer and play pool, but I promise it’s fun, see-
The Guard paused for a moment, thinking, before extending his hand to Gordon.
BARNEY: Well I'll be, where did my manners go? Nice to meet you, I’m Barney Calhoun, and I hope you’ll like it here at Black Mesa!
Gordon nodded politely. He’s got a bit of a smile, but it seems more forcibly polite than anything.
GORDON: I’m Gordon Freeman, nice to meet you. [if I ever have to talk to this guy again, I might light something on fire]
[Wednesday, November 7th, 200X, 7:20, Black Mesa Transit System Tram headed for An. Mat.]
Gordon had an interesting first day. He got the tour and was personally introduced to every member of the science team, and he couldn’t care one bit. He would have just liked to get straight to work, but no, they insisted on a lot of frivolous nonsense that just made him wish he’d stayed in Innsbruck.
Gordon was still getting used to his dorm room and was locked out of it until 12 am because of a problem with his keycard and password. On top of that, he had to wake up extra early to get his ID and security codes, and soon after had a meeting to overview his salary.
So saying he was exhausted on the tram ride to Sector C was a bit of an understatement.
BARNEY: Mornin’ Mr. Freeman. Have a rough night?
Gordon hadn’t even realized the guard had gotten onto the tram until he’d spoken. Gordon was sitting in the same seat as the day before. Knees together, Black Mesa standard issue briefcase on his lap, and staring dead ahead- not with concentration this time, but rather with mind-numbing exhaustion.
BARNEY: Man, First Week’s always hell, I know that for sure. At least the science team doesn’t have any hazing.
GORDON: [Man, I have to get my locker and key today, and get started right away or else I’ll just start keeping the team behind. Wait, is someone talking? Who’s- OH FUCK THERE’S A GUY ON THIS TRAIN?]
BARNEY: The Security Team has some CRAZY hazing, and I mean CRAZY. They took all my clothes and put in them in the tram, and I had to run out practically butt naked to get them! That’s normal though, and you see a lot during hiring season. Man, the things they did to me-
GORDON: [who the fuck is this? Some sort of … guard or something? Wait, didn’t I see him yesterday too? God, all these guards look the same. Do I have my lighter?]
BARNEY: - and SHE got me into some sorta book club or something, but I was the ONLY GUY! Gosh, how the guys picked at me for that one. I wanted to keep going, you know, for her, but man, all the gals could finish the books in two weeks and I, well, I take a little longer and- Well Mr. Freeman, you got me talking about me again! Conceited Calhoun, I am! So, how’s your morning if you don’t mind me asking?
Gordon had stopped paying attention a while ago and just blankly nodded.
BARNEY: Jeez Doc I didn’t realize it was that bad! I’ll get your something from the break room while I’m on my rounds, okay?
GORDON: [My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard
And they're like, it's better than yours-Wait is he talking to me?]
[Wednesday, November 7th, 200X, 8:10, An. Mat. Lab 4]
Gordon had just gotten settled into the anomalous materials laboratories. He finally got his locker and had even gotten scheduled in for his Hazardous Environments Suit training in a week. Gordon was assisting Dr. Simon Backman in the research in lab 4. Dr. Backman hadn’t come in yet, but Gordon had been instructed by his old professor to just start getting familiar with the lab as well as the computer interface, as it could be a little bit difficult.
GORDON: [Great. First, they keep me up all night and then they want me to ‘familiarize myself?’ with the ‘work environment’ and ‘computers’? Like fuck, I can barely familiarize myself with my own two hands.]
BARNEY: Dr. Freeman?
Gordon was startled awake from the hypnotizingly dull computer screen to see a guard holding a coffee… can? Of some sort? And looking around to the other scientists at their lab desks who paid him no mind.
GORDON: [JESUS. oh god, what now? did they find my stash?]
BARNEY: Here’s a coffee from a… secret admirer.
GORDON: [ secret what now? Wait, is this that guy from before?]
Barney set the can down on his desk and leaned down a little, staring to whisper at Gordon.
BARNEY: ((there is no secret admirer Dr. Freeman, it was me. Here’s the coffee I promised. It says on the can to warm it up, but it tastes better cold, I promise.))
GORDON: [uh, okay dipshit, get out of my face before I light you on fire. I’ll fucking do it, i swear.] okay.
BARNEY: ((alright, take care Dr. Freeman)) Sorry Doctor, I’ll never say who it is, Scout’s honor. Bye Dr. Freeman!
The Guard gave a short salute and turned on his heels, leaving the lab.
GORDON: [why would he think that I would have a secret admirer. I’ve been here for two fucking days??]
[Thursday, November 8th, 200X, Lab 4]
Gordon sat at an empty desk to proofread data from the latest experiment. Dr. Backman is chatting away with some coworkers about Gordon, when he looks back to see Gordon handing him a stack of papers. On them are written several corrections in red ink. Gordon has already begun to work on the final copy. Gordon has not said a word.
Dr. Backman’s face turns red, looking over at Gordon. Gordon nodded at him and walked back to the desk he had been working at.
There were so many obvious corrections, and his coworkers standing nearby must have seen the papers as well. Dr. Backman looks infuriated at being embarrassed like this in front of his coworkers, and walks over to Gordon’s side of the table. Dr. Backman grabs his coffee mug and tips it over, spilling all the coffee onto the floor before nicely setting it down.
BACKMAN: oh, woops! Looks like I spilt my coffee.
A malicious, passive-aggressive smile creeps up on Dr. Backman’s face.
BACKMAN: Would you be a good assistant and go get something to clean that up? I’ll finish these corrections for you, no need to worry Mr. Freeman.
The snide remark does not seem to affect Gordon. He simply looks at the coffee, nods, and leaves to go get paper towels from the dining area, his face expressionless as he walks down the hallway.
GORDON: [I swear to fucking god I worked HARD for that doctorate I will be called DOCTOR, not MISTER, who the FUCK does he think he is, anyways? Sure, I’m new, but you can't hate me just because I’m better at your job that YOU are.]
Gordon looks in some cabinets under the sink for some paper towels, and maybe some cleaner.
BARNEY: Whatcha looking for Dr. Freeman?
Gordon hits his head on the top of the cabinet
GORDON: [DON’T fucking SNEAK UP on a guy like that, JESUS.]
BARNEY: Paper Towels are in the bottom cabinet over there, but what are you doing looking for paper towels?
Barney goes and grabs the paper towels as Gordons stands up and rubs the top of his head.
GORDON: [DR.DICKMAN was being a TOTAL DIPSHIT who thinks I went to MIT to study COFFEE STAINS AND THEIR REMOVAL.] Dr. Backman spilt some coffee.
Barney stopped right before handing the paper towels to Gordon, a confused (but mostly annoyed) look on his face.
BARNEY: Well that’s odd, it’s usually one of us Guards who does maintenance and small clean up, so why would he ask you?
GORDON: [Wait who is this guy again? Calhouse? Colhoun? Cal…something.]
Gordon just shrugged. Barney’s eyebrows knit together as he comes to an unpleasant realization
BARNEY: Oh, that Dr. Backman has always been one unpleasant son of a gun. It’s not your job to clean this up, it’s mine! Your job is to do physics and prove aliens are real. Here, I’ll go clean this up.
Barney strides past Gordon, headed towards Lab 4.
GORDON: [WHAT THE FUCK IS HE THINKING?] It’s okay, really.
BARNEY: Oh no it’s NOT! I know what it’s like to have people beat down on you cuz you’re new, and I won’t let you go through that!
GORDON: [...huh. I mean, it’s a stupid move. Evoking the wrath of a Senior researcher will probably get suspended or maybe even fired, but hey. I’m not gonna stop him.]
Barney walks into Lab 4, paper towels in one hand, the other hand balled up in a fist. Gordon stood almost timidly behind him.
GORDON: [Jesus, is he going to punch him?]
BACKMAN: Officer Calhoun? What’s the meaning of this?
Barney’s demeanor changes immediately. His hand relaxes, and he puts on his cheesiest smile.]
BARNEY: oh, nothing Dr. Backman. I just found Dr. Freeman trying to clean a spill and knowing that he has more important work to be doing, I’ll be cleaning it up for him.
BACKMAN: Is that so...Dr. Freeman?
Dr. Backman leans to one side, looking directly at Gordon, before Barney leans to the same side, blocking his line of sight.
BARNEY: It is, Doctor! Now, I better let you get back to your very important work, I’ve got coffee to clean.
Dr. Backman scoffs before turning around to go to his own desk. Gordon let out a sigh.
GORDON: [God, I thought he was going to fucking obliterate this Calhoun guy then kill me. I could have sworn I was about to watch Dr. Backman tear him to shreds.]
Barney also lets out a sigh as he turns to Gordon.
BARNEY: Jesus, I thought he really had you for a second! Anyways, I have to get back to my post, so I’ll clean this up. And Dr. Freeman? If anyone gives you any trouble, you tell me, and I’ll make sure they know what’s what! Nobody picks on new guys on my watch!
Barney smiles and gives Gordon a thumbs up and walks over to the side of Gordon’s lab desk to clean up the coffee. Gordon walks over to his desk and sits down and starts to finish what he had been doing before, but glances over at Barney, who’s on his hands and knees cleaning the spill, facing away from him. Gordon insists it’s only for a second, but he’s definitely staring.
GORDON: [God damn. He’s….that’s….yup. Didn’t even know guys could have that much- wait wAIT I’m STARING]
Barney stands up and walks past Gordon to throw away the paper towels. Gordon almost gets whiplash trying to act like he wasn’t staring the whole time. Barney gives Gordon a little two-finger salute before heading to his post. Gordon returns the gesture with a short nod.
GORDON: [God, this is a terrible first week.]
[Thursday, November 8th, 200X, Kleiner’s Office] DC
Gordon entered Dr. Kleiner’s office after his lunch break, like the memo he had gotten indicated. Kleiner’s office had few things, but the main thing that drew the eye was a small shelf that was adorned with pictures of friends, family, and even MIT school events and certificates. There was even a “Hang IN There!” kitten poster on the leftmost wall.
KLEINER: Come in, Come in! So, Gordon, how are you settling in?
GORDON: [everyone thinks I’m some fresh out of college dumbass kid who doesn’t even know Euler's formula. I am this close to leaving my rotting lunch in the vents just to put the whole place on lockdown for a week.] I’ve been adjusting fine, Professor Kleiner. It’s quite different from Innsbruck, I’ve found.
KLEINER: Is it that bad?
GORDON: [ YES.] No.
KLEINER: Gordon, I know that these people can sometimes, pardon my French, suck a lot of ass, but that’s just how it is here in Sector C. It’s a dog eat dog world. They can’t see it because you’re quite a young man! Even I, who joined at a later age than you, still had trouble rising through the ranks! Listen, once you get to know the Anomalous Materials Team a little better, they’ll see your brilliance. I just know it.
GORDON: [ You’re goddamn right I’m brilliant, so why can’t those fuckers see it?] Thank you Professor Kleiner, I know I’ll get along fine.
Kleiner smiled at Gordon, his hands folded on his desk. He wasn’t an old man. He was somewhere in his early 50s. But the glasses he had on really added to his age. They were different from the glasses he had on when he was still Gordon’s professor, so it seemed he had fully accepted the Old Man look. The eyes behind them were still the same- mischievous, but full of hope. This was an old man you know would put a fake 50 on fishing wire and prank people at the park.
KLEINER: Well, I’ll see you at lunch then, Gordon. I’ve got some spreadsheets to check.
Gordon turned to leave the room.
KLEINER: oh, and Gordon?
Gordon stopped and turned around, looking over his shoulder.
KLEINER: Backman keeps his keys in the third bottom most drawer of his desk.
[Friday, November 8th, 200X, Anomalous Materials Lobby]
The week was finally over. Gordon loved the work he was doing- he was making advances and gaining understanding unprecedented- But by god was he ready to clock out. Gordon was using his not so secret skill of hyper focusing on his goal, which was avoiding everyone like the plague and making B-Line for the sign out sheet. He almost made it to the secure hydraulic-locked door, and even got the okay from the guard that was going to unlock it.
BARNEY: Hey, Dr. Freeman! Clocking out?
GORDON: [this guy? Again??seriously???] Yes.
BARNEY: I am too! Well, I've got a couple things to do before I go, but I wanted to ask if you had any plans for tonight?
GORDON: [OH GOD DOES HE KNOW I'M- HOW DOES- IS HE ASKING ME-] I do not, why do you ask?
BARNEY: well, it's your first week and I thought you might want to hang out with the guys and I outside after work. You know, drink a couple beers, shoot the shit, get to know the guys. Well, shoot the shit as much as we can in the lounge.
GORDON: [ goddddddddd I really just want to crash for the weekend, maybe do some light reading and get wasted.] I’m not sure.
If a grown man could make puppy dog eyes, this is probably what that would look like. Barney looked like he was begging for his life but in a really annoying way. Gordon resisted the urge not to roll his eyes and groan.
BARNEY: oh come on Gordon! I promise, you can leave if you don't have fun, but that won't happen anyway, so no need to worry
GORDON: [Fuuuck. you make me wish I was dead.] Okay, I'll come.
BARNEY: Excellent! I'll drop by your dorm around say...7 ish?
GORDON: [just enough time to get drunk before i even show up.] Okay
BARNEY: See you there, Dr. Freeman.
Dr. Backman walked into the lobby shouting. He looks pissed beyond belief.
BACKMAN: WHERE ARE MY KEYS? WHO TOOK MY KEYS?
GORDON: [THAT’S MY CUE] Goodbye Mr. Calhoun.
BARNEY: Bye Gordon!
Before Barney could even finish saying Goodbye, Gordon had already practically sprinted through the secure sector door.
[Friday, November 8th, 200X, around 5 pm, Level 3 Dormitories, Room 309.]
Gordon got to his room and closed the door behind him before he practically ripped off his tie and shoes and fell onto his bed. He was sure his neighbors could hear his groans, and they sure as hell weren’t “awesome high-five worthy getting laid” groans. They were “why me, good lord, kill me now” groans.
GORDON: [Why do i have to be so nice?]
Gordon reached into the drawer of his nightstand and took out a Transformer Figure.
GORDON:[Oh Bumblebee, we're really in it now, huh? Son of a bitch! I'll go this one time, but I WILL be saying no next time, that Calhoun guy won’t be dragging me into anymore-]
The phone started ringing. Gordon contemplated letting it ring before realizing that it was a secure and private line and whoever was calling was probably someone important.
GORDON: Hello?
JOHN: Bro!! How is the new place? Fancy and government?
GORDON: Oh, John, it’s you. It’s fine, I'm doing a lot of really rewarding work. How did you get this number?
JOHN: BRO I have been trying to call u ALL DAY! But the secretary or something kept saying no and that u were busy or somethin, but they FINALLY let me get through.
GORDON: [ I meant more along the lines of how you even got the Black Mesa internal number, but anyways] It’s good to hear from you, John. How’s Henry? And your wife?
JOHN: OH Henry is SO BIG now bro I will send you a picture so you can see!! And my wife is good, taking care of Henry with me!
GORDON: That’s nice John.
COM: {GORDON. FREEMAN. YOU. HAVE. ONE. MINUTE. LEFT. ON. EXTERNAL. CALL.}
GORDON: Oh, I didn’t know these were timed. I look forward to the pictures. Please tell the missus I said Hello.
JOHN: BYEE GORDON! TAKE CARE! I WILL BE SEND PICTURE SOON! I WILL CALL SOON!
The phone clicked off, and Gordon wasn’t sure if it was John’s abrupt nature of it the time had simply run out. Before he could even process the fact that his brother managed to get access to an internal Black Mesa landline, a knocking came from the door.
GORDON: [speaking of running out of time… wait, it’s like, 4 pm? Why is he here this early…?]
Gordon opens the door slowly, praying to whatever god has not abandoned him yet that it wasn’t the guard. He was almost a bit surprised to see… a mailman? A pale, tall, exhausted looking mailman with the freakiest looking green eyes he’d ever seen stood with a clipboard and a briefcase.
MAILMAN: Package…. for Mr. Gordon ...Freeman, Room 30...9?
Gordon glanced at the wall left of his door, where it’s clearly marked ‘Freeman’ and ‘309’
GORDON: [what the fuck?] Yes that’s me, but I didn't-
The mailman handed him the clipboard and pointed to several spots before Gordon could finish.
MAILMAN: sign here.. and …..here, and initial ..here and here. Thank you, Mr. Freeman, have a nice... day.
Before Gordon could ask what the hell was going on (not that he would phrase it like that, but still,) he shoved a box into his hands. It wasn’t as heavy as he imagined.
GORDON: [Where did he even get this from? oh my god, what if this is a bomb? Wait, Black Mesa has mailmen? Black mesa has MAIL?]
He looked down the hallway for the mailman only to find there was no one else there.
GORDON: [ what the fuuuuuuck. What. the fuck. Well. if this is a bomb, only one way to find out. Hey! It says it’s from Kleiner! Either they used his name to trick me or HE sent me a bomb….nah, he wouldn’t send a bomb, he knows I’m too smart for that. Well, if it is a bomb, only one way to find out!]
Gordon turns around and walks back into his room and locks the door. This situation was cartoonishly weird enough already, so maybe this weird bomb would abide by cartoon logic and only explode his room. Hey, maybe it wouldn’t even kill him! Maybe it would only blow smoke in his face and leave his hair standing up.
Almost a little disappointed, it was not a cartoon stick of dynamite. It seemed to be something familiar...
The note on the inside read “Gordon- Welcome to the team! Dr. Kleiner has told me a lot about you. Sorry I could not be there to greet you myself this week- I’m at a conference right now, but I hope you get on well. Just know that my office is always open (well, except when I’m not there!) - Eli Vance” on the back of the card had a note written in a different, more familiar handwriting. “Gordon, I managed to slip a little something in their for you- Professor”
GORDON: [A care package? Well, If it is a bomb, they know how to get to me. And if it is a care package, well do I really deserve it?... yes, I absolutely do... Let’s see here...hm… Black Mesa sweatshirt...nice...some instant coffee...okay this isn’t that- does this shirt say “I work at Black Mesa and all i got was this T-Shirt” ? well, i needed some new PJs anyways... oh sweet, Snacks! Fuck yeah…Nice soap, some socks, and- wait. What the fuck is this?]
Gordon pulled out a small, plastic bag with a white, almost clear, grainy substance inside.
GORDON: [Oh my God, Is this METH? DID THE PROFESSOR GIVE ME METH? God, I can’t deal with this right now, I’ll just ask him later. But what if he’s running a meth lab? Is this Dr. Vance guy in on it too? Is this some large-scale operation I wasn’t supposed to know about? Jesus, I better get rid of this… later. Maybe I’ll find some use for it.]
Gordon took out the clothes out of the box and left the rest of the goodies inside. He put the little baggie under the sink of the kitchenette and tried not to think about it.
The rest of the time is spent either finishing setting up his belongings or getting ready, which didn’t take long. He didn’t want to look like a total geed, so he went with his “cool, but not cool so much that it looks like I’m trying, but you can tell I look cool” outfit, which to him, was his jeans, band shirt and flannel. He didn’t want to impress these guys, whoever they were. They were guards who probably played darts and talked about...guard things. Like hating their wives and having guns at work. T Gordon just wanted to let them know he was obviously too cool for them, so they’d tell the Calhoun guy never to invite him again.
So, looking good and with nowhere to go (yet), Gordon did what he often had to while he had nothing to do and no way to show he was smarter than everyone else: listen to music.
So, he got out his headphones and Discman, and laid down on his bed for Hit Tunes of 05’: Summer Edition. Maybe he would just not answer the door and use that as an excuse to not go…
He closed his eyes and drifted off, unsure if he was asleep or awake.