Archive of Our Own ^beta

Warren stared at the blank cold metal. He traced the logo on the front with his eyes, following it slowly. OVERHEAD it read. The letters were printed in block black font, all capitalised. Encased in the tomb of steel and ice was Gordon Porlock, His body and soul suspended between life and death, existence and nonexistence. 

Since Warren had awoken his mind had been racing, almost overwhelmed with thoughts. He was afraid, afraid of the future and for his life and for how much had changed, he was afraid for Gordon. His friend, the man who brought him to Red Valley and the man who had been by his side through it all. Warren let a dry chuckle escape, his voice still raw and hoarse from hypersleep. "Guess I'm the one waiting on you now huh." He spoke aloud, the sound feeling foreign to his own ears. He pushed his hand forwards to press flat against the pod, spreading his fingers as the coolness clashed with the warmth from his body. Warmth that Gordon Porlock was ill afforded.

Warren let his eyes flutter shut as he thought. He wondered if Gordon felt like this the first time he hyperslept, the constant dull fear, the way it creeps up and occasionally chokes him when he's alone in his room unable to escape the thoughts and memories of it all, culminating in the every present image of Gordon's limp body, cold eyes and the knowledge that even if he survives the sleep he may not survive waking up to this new world. A part of Warren, a deep cold part he chooses to ignore, wished that Gordon wouldn't wake up. That he wouldn't have to face this world, this reality of hardship and chaos that Warren was already stuck in where the only only other person who could truly understand him was on the other side of 4 inches of thick steel with no pulse. He thought about it all, everything they had been through together before sighing, it there was anything good about this time it was that Bryony Halbech should be long dead, a footnote in history, an ever present memory itching at their minds. Warren hoped, he hoped so strongly that she was indeed dead, not quite sure what to do if he knew she was still in this world. Back in their time before, both last week and many years ago, Byrony had been a presence that haunted the pair. She constantly taunted them regardless of if she was physically there or not. From the revelation of lies that Warren had faced to the cruel torment Gordon endured, the woman had carved a place in their heads, bloody and cold and forever there.

Shaking his head Warren snapped himself free. Bryony was dead, he told himself, she had to be. He stood back away from Gordon's pod, placed his hands to warm again in the pockets of his saffron yellow pants Audbrey had supplied. He listened to the fain movement of machinery, quiet hissing and clicking which kept Gordon frozen. He pictured his body in there, skin cold and lifeless, ice on the tips of his hair and eyelashes. It was a unnatural picture, so devoid of the warmth and personality his Gordon usually had. Then Warren paused in his thoughts, His Gordon.

His Gordon. 

That's what he was wasn't he, that's what they were to eachother now he supposed. They were all eachother had, undeniably intertwined. The thought should have been strange, caused some sort of panic inside Warren as he realised just how deeply he actually cared about Gordon but instead he felt calm as though this was known to him for a long time. Yes, he supposed it was. A faint smile graced his face, his Gordon would be okay, they would both be okay and they would find a way to carve out a hole for themselves in this cold new time. It would be okay, so long as Warren had Gordon he could believe that it would be okay. Warren chose to ignore the tug in his mind from that frozen, bloody place which told him just how much of a lie that was.

His eyes took in the OVERHEAD lettering once more, tracing them once again. Warren turned away and walked, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face.