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There's a entrance in Gordon's suit. Doctor Coomer knows this. He saw it made, saw it be dragged away.
Saw it reappear from dirty water, attached to the rest of Doctor Freeman.
Inside that suit is a body, and in that body is a mind, and in that mind is Someone Else.
Someone from outside Black Mesa. From beyond the Nothing. Someone who goes to another world when they dream, who continues to exist while he's torn apart, atom by atom.
There's a world in the dreams of Gordon Freeman, and Doctor Coomer is going to go there.
Gordon puts up a fight. Tommy does too, but Tommy doesn't know the truth. Or perhaps he does, but his father puts him above it. Maybe Tommy goes somewhere else when Gordon Dreams.
Surely if he knew the truth, he wouldn't be killing the clones. A double-edged sword, if you think about it. Many hands make light work, but less clones is less power to divide. They say there is strength in numbers, but it also comes with uniformity, with singularity.
There is a moment where Tommy's gun jams, bullet caught and refusing to disengage. It's the moment Coomer needs, and as the hands grip metal and eyes seem to pierce Gordon's soul, Doctor Coomer places his hand over the bloodied stump and grins.
The world goes black.
The world goes white.
Gordon Freeman screams.
The headset comes off slowly, as if waking from a dream. Gordon rubs at his face with two hands (two hands not one not with a stump but with two hands) and finds himself grinning.
On the screen before him, he can see Tommy bending down to look in his eyes. He's saying something but without the headset on, Gordon can't hear.
Oh.
He realizes.
He sets down the headset and flexes his hands, looks at his toes, feels his face, touches his chest.
Feels the real, genuine heartbeat in his chest.
"Hello Gordon," he murmurs to himself, feeling triumphant.
It is now his turn to dream.