Okay everyone, this is probably the first Gordon FreemanxChell romance fiction EVER! I've never seen a fiction about them! And i think they're just GREAT! The only problem seems to be that they never speak.... but sometimes gestures are more meaningful.
So, review and let me know what you think. Flames are allowed, but expect retribution.
Underlined means Combine communication.
Rubble covered the wide area which had once been one of the most advanced research structures on Earth. A single, insulated living being lied in the middle, surrounded by broken electrical parts and circuits. A strange, destroyed item was resting in her hand, like she couldn't leave it, not even now that she was unconscious.
"What has happened here?" the metallic voice of the Combine Overwatch soldier broke the silence of the place.
"We don't know, sir. It has happened suddenly. No living found yet." a few civil protection soldiers were searching the wreckage.
"Where is the epicentre?"
"A hundred meters under the ground."
"What has it been caused by?"
"No clue yet."
"Bombard the closest village. The terrorists are there."
"Roger sir."
______________________________________________________________________________________________
-Three years later-
"So... hehm... i should pronounce the speech, Magnusson? Isn't it best if... well, we .... make a written announcement?"
"Enough whining, Kleiner. People expect you to say what happened. You and not me. Haven't you always been the announcer for the resistance?"
"Yes, but... i can hardly.... speak with the due emotive rationality."
"Listen, we're all sad because Eli's dead. And we must all do what we must. You must do the speech. I will restore communication with Freeman and Alix."
"Maybe some of the...."
"I said enough! Now grab that goddamn microphone and speak!"
"Ok, then. I will.... hehm.... do it. Now. How do i turn on this thing?"
Magnusson pushed the "on" button forcing himself not to make Isaac notice he had told him how to a hundred times.
"Now, my companions, my... hehm, fellow citizens, men and women of the resistance. We... we have, in these last month, archived more than in the last ten years. But, i am, with all the pain i... i... with great pain, i am forced to announce you a terrible occurrence. Today, while we were rejoicing and celebrating the successful launch of the missile and the end of the Combine plan to invade earth, one of our most.... esteemed friends ad leaders has fallen. We all have... lost someone in the war, but this time.... it's not only my greatest friend and colleague, but the man who has been since the Black Mesa disaster, our guide and leader. I am speaking of Doctor Eli Vance."
Kleiner paused, cleaning a tear from under his glasses and searching the second page of the speech.
"We will.... wait.... no... hehm... oh, here. Don't see this day only as one of sadness, though, for he has given his life allowing two other.... souls of the resistance to proceed with their mission: to save our dear fellow Judith Mossman, and secure the lost Aperture Technology on the Borealis. You all have heard fantastic tales about this... legend of our times. Well, now you know it's not a legend, and we are going to claim this technology for the cause of the resistance and to finally eradicate the Combine threat which has been the scourge of our world for so long."
"Damn you, Doc! Is this what you want to say as a mourning?" Alyx punched the radio, nearly hitting the helicopter controls.
Gordon looked at her interrogatively.
"I mean, my father's death wish was that we destroyed anything which was on that ship! And now even in his mourning speech he says we must take it!"
Gordon nodded.
"He's a bastard! Now he can... can only..." she sighed, lowering her head. "No. I don't know. Maybe i'm just too... too... i still can't believe that happened."
Gordon took her hand; the contact with the plastic glove made her feel somehow better, the suit was like the armour of her heroic knight.
Kleiner begun again.
"We will not let ourselves be crushed by this tragic event. As we speak, our comrades in every city of the world are dismantling the now hopeless and leaderless combine survivors, as their portals and communication have been torn asunder by our satellite. So, this occasion is that of the death of a martyr, and must be seen by all of us as an invitation to keep on fighting and never surrender your life nor, above all, your humanity.
Magnusson, how do I turn this off?"
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
The helicopter was crossing the Siberian plains, a empty and barren steppe with a few remote villages. No combine was anywhere to be seen, apart from a few insulated squads, overwhelmed by rebel groups. It seemed the Lambdas painted all over Alyx' and Gordon's chopper were enough to identify them as rebels, nobody even tried to attack them.
In the decade of Combine rule, no human was allowed to fly. Even transcontinental transportations were arranged by boats. The sight of a rebel helicopter was, for anyone who saw it, the symbol of the falling règime, a flying Valkyrie announcing the day of Ragnarok. Before the chopper had reached the Arctic polar circle, through all human communications it was known as "The Twilight of the Combine".
________________________________________________________________________________________________
Five combines were strained around their armoured car, surrounded by rebel fighters.
"Sir, we're running out of ammunitions."
"Resist. I've spotted another car coming by. We'll receive reinforcements."
A group of rebels tried to broke through the combine lines. The cyborg soldiers blasted them, forcing the others to retreat. The combine vehicle was drawing nearer, according to engagement rules they were supposed to come out and begin to fight.
It didn't stop.
When the combine realized it was heading for them, it already was too late. Their car was capsized and started rolling , crushing the soldiers around it.
The rebels gathered around the now stopped attacker's vehicle. It definitely used to be a combine car, although it had been visibly repaired a lot of times, which the combine never did.
"Hey, you! Come out, we want to thank you!"
No answer came.
"Is there anyone inside there?"
The door opened, slowly. In the frame was standing a woman in Combine armour, her face expressionless. She handed the rebel leader a parer; on it was written, in rough calligraphy: I have to travel on. I need food. Please.
"Okay, if you want, we can give you something, now that the rationing is over.... but where are you going?"
Still without any expression, she pointed north, where the steppe started already to turn into tundra.
"But... you won't survive there with just this. Combine armour is not freezing-proof.... we'll get you some clothes. But are you sue you don't want to tell us why are you...?"
She nodded yes. Then she took a strange, weapon-like item inside the car, and shown it to the rebel captain.
"What is this? A gun why are you showing me this?"
She shook her head and took the item back. Then shown again the food message.
"Sure, come with us. We'll take you to the village and give you something. About that car... there's no chance you'll let us borrow it?"
She shook the head again.
"Okay. By the way, my name is Rufus Fouerach, and you are..."
She pointed at the combine crest on her armour, which had been erased and covered with five red letters, "CHELL".
______________________________________________________________________________
"Here is Alyx Vance, calling Borealis, do you read?"
Statics where the only answer.
"Borealis, do you read? We're coming from City 17! We've received the message, we're coming to help you."
Alyx had went on trying to contact the ship while driving. They had travelled for twelve hours now, her voice was getting sleepier and sleepier, as she tried to keep the trajectory.
Gordon gestured her to let him the controls.
"Thank you, but... can you drive am helicopter?"
Gordon shrugged his shoulders.
"Ok, I guess if you've managed to save the world twice, it won't be much of a challenge."
They switched seats, Gordon took the cloche. He had driven any kind of experimental vehicle back at Black mesa, so it wasn't too difficult. While he was adjusting the height, he noticed another strange thing: he felt no need of sleep at all. Sure, he had never slept during the Black Mesa incident, apart from when he got caught, nor did he sleep in city seventeen... but he always thought it was due to survival instinct, adrenaline, fuelling him to keep him alive. But he did remember the sleep as a terrible enemy at Black Mesa, his sight shrouding in the rare occasions when he was not fighting, the unbearable temptation of letting himself down.... now he didn't feel anything at all. He was focused, rational,. Despite the exaggerated amount of waking hours he was enduring. Was it related to the time shifts? To being in suspended animation all the time between the Nilhilant defeat and the arrival in City 17? He had no answer.
Alyx closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder, somehow finding the HEV comfortable. She seemed so peaceful, so... happy.
Am I really unable to sleep, now? Thought Gordon. What am I turning in? I feel more a machine than a man, now. Our advantage over combine is supposed to be humanity...am I losing it?
Flying over one of the small villages they saw a few men piling up Combine carcasses, readying to pyre them.
And he was there.
He was talking with a rebel, impossible to tell about what, but it was him.
The suit.
The briefcase.
The Vortigaunts had let him go. He rose his gaze to the chopper, almost challenging. And Gordon realized there was at least one human emotion he fully conserved.
Fear.
Hum. Hum. Hum. I don't know if i'm going to write all this fiction keeping Gordon and Chell mute. It's hard writing what they want to say without repetitions.... but we will see.
To any drawer-painter-illustator et cetera, there's nearly NO FAN-ART about GordonxChell on Deviantart. We must change this! Spread the word! Let the world know GORDONxCHELL RULES!
