Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Barney is instructed to report to the Citadel, he fully expects to die in one way or another. Either he's been chosen for Transmutation and he'll be sliced up until he's more mindless machine than man or, the more likely option given that he's not exactly a model CP officer, is that his cover has been blown. And since he's in an elevator up to a higher level of the Citadel than he's ever been to rather than in an interrogation room... in Barney's mind, it's almost certain that he's about to be killed as an example to the rest of the Resistance.

There's an Elite Soldier waiting for him when the elevator's doors slide open. Barney's heart skips a beat but he keeps his face neutral. He'll go down fighting if he has to.

But the Soldier simply motions for him to follow and walks off down the hall. Barney falls in behind him, glancing around at the walls. It's odd to see the upper levels of the Citadel after only having experienced the brutalist environments of the city and the lower levels. If he ignored the view out the windows, the stark metal and concrete that couldn't be entirely hidden, and the oddly-shaped doors, Barney could almost pretend this was a classy office building from the Old World, all (definitely faux, but still) wood detailing and warm lights.

By the time the Soldier ushers him into one of the rooms, Barney's changed his mind about his imminent death. They wouldn't kill him in an office like this, not when his blood will soil the patterned area rug, and he can't imagine someone would go to all this trouble just to tell him he's being promoted to an Elite.

The Soldier points to a chair against the wall and exits the room without a word, pulling the door shut behind him.

But then why is Barney here?

He takes the instructed seat and fiddles with his ID badge while he takes stock of the room. It's not a very large office, and not particularly decorated. There's a metal desk to his right and a well-worn filing cabinet, the rug, and not much else. The desk doesn't have a name placard on it or anything.

He waits long enough to be just starting to contemplate that he's being psychologically tortured when he startles harshly at a sudden but soft knock at the door. Barney lurches forward, throwing himself to his feet on instinct as the door swings open into the hall and a man steps through.

Gordon Freeman's face lights up as his gaze falls on Barney. All the air is knocked out of Barney's lungs as his world collapses at the sight of Gordon Freeman.

Gordon is signing rapidly but Barney is still trying to catch his breath, trying to take stock of the situation. He processes the information in sequence.

Gordon is here, and alive, and he's in the Citadel, apparently unharmed and not in any sort of hurry.

Are his glasses different?...

His hair is longer and pulled back, but otherwise he looks like he hasn't aged at all since the last time Barney saw him before he vanished. He also looks... rested. Not like he did pulling all-nighters back before everything went to shit. 

And most damning of all, Gordon is, over black slacks and a white button-down shirt, wearing what looks like a gray-blue cross between a lab coat and a peacoat, with the Combine logo emblazoned in white on the breast. 

What he doesn't process is anything Gordon is saying. This is... this must be a dream, one of the ones that start fine and turn into a nightmare. Barney pinches himself hard on the hand and feels the sting, clear as day. 

So this is a waking nightmare, then.

Chapter Text

Okay, this is, he must have missed something. Gordon's undercover, he has to be, never mind that Breen absolutely knows what he looks like which means that he would be the most wanted man in City 17 as soon as someone figured out he was here. There's no way in hell that this man would ever align himself with the Combine. If he's not undercover then... evil twin? Maybe... Robot? Alien shapeshifter? Mind control? Barney's been captured and he's being made to hallucinate to try to get information out of him? His conspiracy books are paying off.

When Barney finally realizes that he needs to respond to Gordon's rapid sign, he sees that he's now being asked if he's okay. He blinks a few times and holds his hands up loosely.

"I'm good, I'm good, I... holy shit, Gordon, I thought you were dead!" He ignores how his voice cracks. "And you don't look any different, it's been— it's been 20 years!"

Gordon glances away, looking almost embarrassed.

"It's only been a year since the Resonance Cascade for me. It's kind of complicated."

"Only a year, god," Barney whispers. "I don't even know what to say."

Gordon's hands start to move, but then they stop, just hovering for a moment before Gordon moves forward and wraps his arms around Barney in a tight hug. Barney's not proud of the fact that he flinches a little at the sudden movement. He doesn't get the chance to get his arms up properly, but he does manage to sort of hug Gordon back, half-expecting a knife in his back for doing so.

"I'm so happy to see you," Gordon says with a grin after he pulls back just enough to get his hands between them, but then his smile wavers. "Sorry, I-- it's been a long time for you, I should have asked first--"

"No, it's... that's alright, Doc." It's not alright, not like this, but Barney's still in so much shock. From a Resistance standpoint, he needs to keep up appearances, needs to get intel from this new source, but said source is his boyfriend who was MIA until five minutes ago, when he turned up inside the enemy's home base, wearing their logo. 

Right. No problem. 

"CP keeps me plenty busy, so it's not like I've been dating around, but damn, I'm an old man now."

Gordon scoffs.

"28 and 47, what a scandal," he replies. "I don't care. Do you care?"

Stubborn. They've always had that in common.

"Don' think so," Barney mumbles. "Happy belated birthday?"

And so despite the fear, despite the hollow, despairing feeling in Barney's stomach, he leans into Gordon to capture his lips in a kiss. It's so gentle, almost dreamlike, stark against the violent knowledge that Gordon is, through means unknown, on the wrong side of the fight. 

Selfishly, Barney can almost forget about that. He can pretend they're back at Black Mesa, hidden in a corner somewhere when they happened to cross paths during the day. He can pretend there's no Combine, no Citadel... hell, no alien life on Earth.

Until his hands come up to rest at the back of Gordon's neck and his fingers brush something cold and metallic.

Gordon breaks the kiss off, clearly having felt Barney stiffen at the unexpected sensation. His fingers flutter over the back of his own neck for a moment and he smiles. Turns to let Barney see the rectangular device implanted into his skin, the metal seams blending into tan skin so smoothly that if not for the color difference, it might even be hard to tell where one surface ends and the other begins. The gesture is meant to be reassuring, but although Gordon's eyes are the same green as they've always been, there's something wrong about how he's looking at Barney. Gordon always had an intense sort of depth to his gaze, like he was looking into you, really seeing you. Now it's gone, stripped out of him, and without it, those green eyes seem empty.

"Just an enhancement," Gordon says. Barney bites back his distress and forces himself to nod and smile back for the sake of the lie, but... what is that thing doing to Gordon? He can imagine, can practically see past the device's metal shell to the organic insides, plugged into Gordon's brain stem doing who-knows-what.

"Lucky man," Barney says with a light laugh that's bitter on his tongue. "Been working your way up the chain of command!"

(While I thought you were dead.)

(Now I finally have you back and it's like you're still gone.)

" I'm surprised you're not a few promotions higher! "

"Ah, well, I might be a little... squeamish about the Elite modifications." It's not a lie except by omission. Gordon laughs and shakes his head.

"Not a Soldier. You should be leading squadrons or posted at a command center."

"Flirt. You haven't even seen if I'm any good at my job."

"Like I need to. You're still in City 17, so you must be doing something right." 

Barney's wracking his brain to figure out which of his thousand of questions he wants to ask first, when a series of beeps interrupt him. Gordon pulls something that looks sort of like a handheld radio with a screen out of his pocket and presses a few buttons on it, then returns it with a sigh.

"I have to get back to work. Will you come back tomorrow evening?"

(What's "work?" What are you DOING?) 

"'Course. You know where to find me... right?" Gordon smiles and nods. 

"I'll have someone come get you from your station."

(Note to self, don't be in Kleiner's lab tomorrow evening.)

An Elite is outside to escort Barney back down to the ground floor of the Citadel and turn him back out into the streets. The walk back is a complete blur, too many unanswered, desperate questions plaguing him. 

Kleiner jumps when Barney enters the lab. Says something to him. Barney's numb, barely aware that he's even being spoken to. He keeps moving, walks to the back of the lab and sits himself down on a crate, head in his hands, palms pressed into his eyes hard enough to make colors dance behind his eyelids. He lets out a shaky breath and presses harder.

"Barney?"

It's Alyx. Barney makes a noise to let her know he's heard her.

"Are you okay? What happened at the Citadel?!"

Barney wants to scream. Instead he mumbles a short answer into his hands, shaking his head without lifting it.

"Barney, come on, talk to me. What happened?"

He has to tell them. A chill runs down his spine at the realization and he tangles his fingers into his hair instead. He has to tell them—

"Gordon's alive," Barney says. It comes out dull and despairing. Not like he could break this news any other way. "He's working for the Combine."