Disclaimer: We don't own Half-Life.
Sidelines
Year Fifteen by Super Chocolate Bear
"Good morning, and welcome to the Black Mesa Transit System. This train is inbound…"
Barney looked up at the top of the tram car, staring at the speakers in every corner. Nothing came out.
"Inbound. Inbound. Inbound."
Scowling, he scratched his head beneath his helmet. He always did this. Wedged on his helmet before he got to work before he picked up his helmet from the armoury.
Wait, what?
Why was he in his armour and helmet on the tram?
"Good luck, Mr Calhoun! I'll see you on the other side!"
"Gah! Barney, I really don't appreciate you sneaking up on me in such a manner."
The train came to a stop, and Gordon pushed himself to his feet. "Just don't lose all of your money."
Barney smiled. "I know, I know, I still owe you the beer. I won't forget."
His smile faded. "Wait. Wait, Gordon!"
His head whipped up from where it had been languishing back on the seat. Jolted awake by a bump on the track, Barney let out the quietest of grunts before bringing his head up, rubbing his eyes slowly and looked around the carriage. Only two or three citizens, and the exact same ones he had entered the train with.
Lazily, he wiped some drool that had gathered on his chin while he slept. He remembered a time that would have embarrassed him. Now it was just one more thing he didn't care about; one more priority that had been shuffled far down on the 'important scale' after the whole world went to hell in a bloody, violent hand basket. An absent hand ran through rough, greying hair. That was another thing that didn't seem important anymore. The sight of his first grey hair would have usually evoked some kind of huge emotional whirlwind, full of expensive convertibles and young, twenty-something women.
As it was, it was just another day staring in the cracked, murky mirror he had managed to cobble together back at the City 14 base. So he shaved as best he could and went to work.
That was a few years ago, at least. It was hard to tell nowadays. He looked out the window. The view was no longer the barren, dying coast. Buildings, tunnels and dormant trains passed by.
Here I come, Walter.
Or so he hoped. The City 14 resistance had been tracking him through the Vortigaunts and other outlets for years now. One time they even thought they had rescued him, only for a squad of soldiers to happen upon the attempt and blow it to hell. At the moment, it seemed like Walter Bennett was still alive, and in no danger of being 'converted' or 'upgraded'. His knowledge was too precious. Last piece of intelligence City 14 received, Walter was being taken to Nova Prospekt. That tore it. Previously, all of Barney's requests for a transfer to City 17 had been denied. It wasn't a priority, and others needed the transport more desperately. Which was fair enough. But if anyone was going to get Bennett out of this shithole of a situation, it was going to be him.
He owed it to the man.
However, as a helpful member of the resistance in City 14 had said, the odds of him getting to City 17 before Walter were too depressing to calculate. For starters, he had been taken on a Razor train to Nova Prospekt. Even if Barney had boarded a train to City 17 hours before Walter had been dispatched, he still wouldn't have arrived in time. On top of that, it had taken him a week to organise the transfer with the… 'proper authorities'.
Even thinking the words left a foul taste in his mouth. Sniffing, he rubbed his nose. Sea air always blocked his sinuses. Ah, for a Walgreens. Somehow Barney didn't think that would be high on Breen's 'I must save this from the Combine war machine' list. It was probably all Shakespeare and Opera. Damn shame. Probably not one episode of the A-Team in there.
The train started pulling into the station, and Barney pushed himself to his feet with his hands on his knees. He had no desire to touch any of the poles and handlebars that were around this train. That was something that had stayed with him after using the New York subway pre-Combine. God knows what it would be like now. Probably some kind of breeding ground for Combine genetic weapons.
Barney watched as the other passengers lethargically picked up their luggage. He was tempted to think of them as zombie like. But, having seen and killed actual zombies, somehow the metaphor didn't quite apply.
As he saw the amount of Civil Protection officers gathered in the station, Barney was glad he had opted not to bring any luggage. He didn't have any possessions anyway. Just his old engagement ring and a picture of Lauren, and those he had left with Rosenberg back in City 14 before he set off. The only things he could have brought with him were weapons, and somehow he didn't think the Combine would blindly wave him through customs with a handful of grenades and some handguns wedged in-between some shirts.
The train jolted to a halt, and everyone slowly spilled out onto the platform. Barney easily ignored the cameras as he made his way towards the CPs. He tried not to make it obvious how close he in fact was to crapping his pants. Every time he did this, it was always the same. He had thought that over time he would have gotten used to it. But no. Every single time he approached a group of these bastards, there always that worry.
What if they picked him?
It was entirely possible they could do so without even knowing of his resistance connections. Most likely they would just be selecting an example for any others who thought they were safe.
They waved him through, far more intent on the saddened citizens behind him that desperately clutched their bags. Barney didn't even look back as he proceeded through the turnstiles. He tried to ignore the pleading. He especially tried to ignore the sound of one man being beaten.
Damn, he hated CPs.
His room wasn't much different than the ones given to citizens in City 14, except maybe a little more dilapidated. And far more crowded. At least five people to a single room and one working toilet for each floor. Barney had tried not to think about what kind of germs were lurking in the brown stained sink as he washed his hands.
Settling down in the corner of a room, Barney huddled up, trying to conserve warmth in the frigid room. He had considered taking a walk around the city, but quickly dissuaded himself of that course of action. Besides not needing to draw attention to himself, he had no idea when his resistance contact would try to get in touch with him. So he would stay put.
Night was drawing in, anyway. The Civil Protection night shift was not something someone wanted to get on the wrong side of. He tried to relax and not think about the people he knew who already lived in this city. Eli, Dr Kleiner… he'd heard that Alyx had grown up quite a bit. And yet he hadn't seen or spoken to any of them for so long. Not since that day. All other correspondence didn't begin until a few years ago when the resistance cells started talking to each other, and even then it was through couriers and text messages sent on the most rudimentary of computers - anything more advanced and the Combine would pick it up. But right now, he needed sleep. No point in getting excited about something that may not even happen. And Bennett was the target at the moment. Nothing mattered until Barney had found him.
"Hey."
The guttural snarl of a voice brought Barney's attention up, and he locked eyes with a surprisingly big man. How the hell had he managed that on Combine rations? Spotting the jagged shape poking from the mans' pocket, Barney hazarded a guess that he was probably one of those 'I'm going to make the best of a bad situation' people, and promptly took it upon themselves to steal other people's food and supplies and then beat the living shit out of anyone who objected.
Two scrawny henchmen behind him did nothing to dissuade Barney of that fact. Barney stared up at him.
"Yeah?"
"You're in my spot."
The two henchmen snickered, and Barney looked down and around him.
"Oh," he said, dragging himself up to his feet. "Sorry."
Moving over beside the fully occupied sofa, Barney slid down against some bare wall and rested his back against it.
Heavy footsteps made him frown, and he opened his eyes again.
"What?" he grunted.
"You're in my spot."
Henchmen numbers one and two snickered.
Barney clenched his jaw and let his teeth grind a little before taking a breath. "Okay," he sighed, "fine. Off I go to another spot."
He got up and walked to another corner of the room, quickly settling in for the night.
And sure enough, there was his chauffeur again, reminding him of proper etiquette and behaviour in this civilised world.
"You're in my spot."
"Okay, seriously," Barney grunted, clambering to his feet. "How fat is your ass that you need three separate corners of the room?"
At first, shock reigned supreme. Not just with the big man and his henchmen, but with everyone else in the room.
Then the big man twitched. "No-one talks to me like that."
Looking around, Barney saw just how much attention was being directed at him. Attention he didn't need.
"Look, just… leave me alone. Let me sleep. You can understand that, right? I mean, we're all tired around here."
Big man nodded. "Yeah. I can understand that."
"Right, good."
"But I can't go to sleep. You're in my spot."
Henchmen snickered again.
Big man grabbed him roughly by the collar and reached for whatever jagged weapon he had in his pocket. Barney slammed a quick knee into his groin and shoved him back into his esteemed colleagues, sending them all tumbling to the floor. Walking over, he stamped a hand down on the big mans' weapon hand, forcing him to drop the broken porcelain tile.
"A tile?" he sighed. "You were gonna stab me with a tile? Where's it from? The bathroom?"
The big man nodded.
"Well, that's sure a potent weapon, buddy. But seriously, you didn't need to stab me with it. Hell, wipe it on my tongue and you'd give me the runs for a month."
He kicked the tile away and leaned forward, putting pressure on big man's hand.
"You gonna leave me alone now?"
Big man nodded.
"Yeah. Now I don't mean 'nod until he goes away then jump him with my goons' leave me alone, I mean 'don't touch him ever again' leave me alone. Yeah? We okay with that?"
After a pause, big man nodded again.
Barney sighed. "Outstanding."
With that done, he returned to his first corner and nestled in as comfortably as he could manage. After watching the big man stumble out of the room with his buddies in tow, Barney tried to ignore the awed looks of his fellow citizens before dropping off.
A loud thumping bang from outside jolted Barney from his dreamless slumber. Finding yet more drool on his chin, he quickly swiped it aside as he hauled himself to his feet. Wood cracked on the other side of the misted window-doors on the other side of the room, and citizens backed away from it as though it were an out of control fire.
Someone cried out from the room across the hallway. Moving slowly, Barney crept across the room, the stunned and fearful looks directed at him doing nothing to dissuade him. As he reached the door, he put his ear to the wall beside it, not wanting some rogue CP boot to come smashing through and give him a bloody ear.
A CP radio crackled ominously. "Target still not found. Sterilisation procedure in effect."
Barney bit down on his lip. Someone knew about him. And more importantly, someone had told. His gaze whipped around the room, settling on the big man. Judging by his terrified demeanour directed entirely at the door, he certainly wasn't the one to blame. Well, someone had blabbed. And everyone in the building was suffering because of it. 'Sterilisation' was never a good thing as far as citizens were concerned.
"Sorry Walter," he muttered, before stepping through the doors and out into the hallway. Two panicked citizens lurched forward and slammed the doors closed behind him.
The CPs didn't notice; they were too busy knocking the crap out of someone in the doorway ahead of Barney.
"Hey," he said, coming forward and all too ready to put his hands up. "You can stop now, I-"
The lead officer's blank helmeted eyes settled on him, and he pointed Barney out to his other comrades.
"Get him!"
They all charged forward, and Barney prepared himself for the impact. Instead, they thundered past him, heading for someone at the far end of the corridor. Barney turned, watching them go with a frozen look of complete idiocy.
"What… the hell."
Someone poked their head out of the doorway behind him, and he watched as a bruised citizen quickly ducked back inside. As he curiously made his way to the broken down doorway, he heard some mighty fierce whispering from inside.
"Get out of here!"
A female voice answered. "But… he's just been-"
"Just go! You're more important, go!"
Barney nodded and looked back down the corridor. Whoever the CPs had spotted and chased after, it must have been a decoy. Whoever this girl was they were protecting, she was obviously important. Stepping inside, however, he found no-one there. At least, no-one female.
"Wait… what?" He looked around the bare room. "Where is she?"
Two citizens tended to a third, severely wounded on the floor. The one on the left, greying hair far exceeding Barney's, looked up at him warningly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"But I need to-" he grunted in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "If she's important, I need to talk to her."
The man stood up. "Again. I don't. Know. What you're talking about."
Barney sighed. "Look, I-" He stopped as he noticed the most miniscule of gaps at the window behind the two men on the floor. Except windows in these buildings weren't supposed to open.
"You should cover your tracks better." He went to the window and yanked it up, expecting some kind of city ambience to wash over him. Instead, all he got was the slightest whistle of the cold City 17 air.
The man made a move for him, and Barney put up a hand. "Look. I'm not here for any CP thing. In fact, I thought they were here for me. It's only a matter of time before they recognise me, and then it's bad news for the whole building. Harbouring one fugitive you might be able to get away with. Barely. But two? Come on."
CP radios crackled down the corridor, and the man only glanced at the ominously empty doorway once before giving Barney a nod of consent.
"Okay. Now close this window properly, for Christ's sake."
And then he was on his way. Shimmying across the ledge, he was suddenly glad for the cover of night, and for the smog the Combine factories churned out that stopped any moonlight from illuminating him to any Civil Protection goons below. It didn't take him long before he was on the next rooftop.
That was when he noticed her. She must have waited to see if anyone would follow. Stupid girl; that kind of stuff would get her killed, and quick. Barney gave chase, hopping over gaps between buildings and tiptoeing along crumbling ledges before finally following her ghostly shape through an open window and into the attic of some old building.
Her shadow disappeared down a stairway in the middle of the room, and Barney raced down. A few steps down, his foot plunged through one of the steps, sending him tumbling painfully down until he crashed against the wall at the foot of the stairs.
"Oh… ow."
The familiar sensation of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his neck. He froze.
"Who are you?"
The youth in that voice made Barney's heart ache. Too young to be holding a gun and witnessing innocent people being beaten by CPs.
He groaned and turned over, pushing himself up until he was sat against the wall, looking up at the stairs from whence he had fallen.
"Someone needs to look at those stairs."
"You should have skipped everything except the third, fifth and seventh ones."
"Oh," he said, smiling and nodding. "Booby traps, huh? Nice."
He couldn't get a good look at her in the light. But he was all but certain it was her.
"You're Alyx, right?"
The gun faltered.
"Alyx Vance?"
She took an audible breath. "How do you know my name?"
Barney smiled. "Because I knew you when you were small enough to fit in the nook of my arm."
Even in pitch black darkness, the scepticism in her face was apparent.
"Oh, c'mon. You don't remember me? What about all the good times we had? Geez, you play blocks with a kid for years and she doesn't even have the courtesy to remember your name…"
Silence was the only response. But the grip on the gun was relaxed.
"Nice gun, by the way."
Alyx pointed the gun away from him, studying it a little. "Thanks." She put it away. "You're the security guard, aren't you? The one who knows Rosenberg?"
"Well, yeah, if you want my business résumé," he said, grunting his way to his feet. "But among other things, I was friends with your dad, Gordon and Dr Kleiner."
"You knew Gordon Freeman?"
"You kidding? I got him drunk more times than I can count. Or did he get me drunk? Whatever. We were good buddies." Barney looked around warily. "And we need to get out of here."
Alyx still wasn't sure, and studied him out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she nodded to a lift in the next room. "This way."
Leading him down into the guts of City 17, Alyx effortlessly weaved her way through a labyrinth of tunnels and secret passageways, finally ending with a door hidden behind a drinks dispenser.
It had been so long since he had heard the sounds of the lab. Liquids bubbling, gauges beeping, devices humming, weird looking things doing… weird looking things. It was like coming home. A few beeps and clicks sounded from the far side of the lab, and the wall slid open.
A rather beleaguered Dr Kleiner stumbled through, wearing striped pyjamas and plaid slippers. Barney grinned. Only Dr Kleiner would spend resistance resources on finding pyjamas and slippers.
He rubbed his eyes before he slipped on his glasses. "Alyx? Do you realise what time of the night it is? I hope you didn't go wandering off-"
His eyes adjusted to the lenses, and he finally twigged the presence of someone else in the room.
"Barney?"
Barney was grinning so hard his face hurt. "Hey doc. Long time no see."
"Yes indeed. It's, uh…" Dr Kleiner's smile seemed similarly locked. "It's delightful to see you again."
"You lose the keys to your office yet?"
Dr Kleiner closed his eyes and shook his head. "Not as of late. Although there was that one time a few years ago when I managed to lock everyone else into the lab and myself out. Most troubling, I can tell you."
"Yeah, doc," he said, trying to resist the urge to hug the living daylights out of the old man. And God, how he'd aged. Barney thought that he looked rough after fifteen years of fighting the Combine. Kleiner looked like he would break if he fell over.
"I see you have met Alyx," Kleiner said, breaking him from his thoughts. "She has had something of a growth spurt since you last saw her."
"Yeah, I noticed. I caught her running around in my building." He tried his best not to sound scolding, but it happened anyway. Alyx sent him a suitably indignant scowl. Here she was, reuniting him with his long lost friend, and he throws her to the wolves.
Hopefully she wouldn't hold it against him.
A month later, she was still holding it against him. When she had cheerily volunteered to cut his pretty straggly hair, it was after a month of relative peace between the two. If he was honest, he was just glad to have someone with a stable hand putting scissors near his head. The quivering hand of Dr Kleiner didn't inspire the greatest confidence.
But, looking in the mirror and seeing the random tufts of salt and pepper hair that sprouted out in all directions, it was clear that the young Ms Vance was nowhere near the forgiveness stage.
The hair was one clue.
The other was the fact that she said, "Serves you right for telling," before huffily leaving Kleiner's lab for Black Mesa East.
Barney ran a tentative hand over his head. A visit to the Dr Kleiner Hair Salon wasn't sounding too bad right now. But he supposed the important thing was that his head would fit in the Civil Protection helmet much more comfortably now.
He looked down at the ghoulish helmet, nervously fingering it with gloved hands. He hadn't worn gloves in years. The closest he'd managed was a towel he had wrapped around his hands on a particularly cold night on a City 14 rooftop. But these gloves weren't particularly comforting or warm. The creaking leather left him with a somewhat less pleasant feeling. It made him feel slimy, dirty.
Or, to be more dramatic, evil.
Cue maniacal laughter.
Getting the uniform hadn't been too hard. One of the civilian service stations had seen to that. It seemed there could never be too many vicious, merciless bullies roaming the streets in the name of the lovely and kind Combine. And it was agreed that he was the only one who could really do this. Alyx was too young, Eli had one leg, Dr Kleiner was… Dr Kleiner, and all the other rebels were too afraid of the Combine to ever consider keeping calm in their ranks. Eli had also pointed out that he should be used to such duties, considering his job back at Black Mesa.
Barney hadn't appreciated the comparison.
Taking a breath, he slipped the helmet on, doing up the clips on the top and bottom. His breathing reverberated through the nozzle on the helmet, and Barney felt like he was falling to the dark side of the Force. And that he was someone's father. The lenses of the helmet were remarkably clear. He had expected some cruel joke on the part of the Combine that smeared the CP's vision, rendering them vulnerable to attack.
But no. Clarity, and in high definition, ma.
After checking that his weapons were where they should be (and uttering a silent prayer that he wouldn't have to use them), Barney whirled on his heel and stepped out of the changing room and into the train station. Well, he said changing room. It was an old waiting room for first class passengers. Now it was just a room with slightly less paint falling off the walls than everywhere else.
As opposed to the interrogation rooms, which were far worse than most rooms Barney had seen. The blood stains smeared across the floor around a gruesome looking chair were less than encouraging.
He was gruffly told that he would be taking care of 'processing', which basically meant extracting 'the truth' from anyone who was unlucky enough to be randomly stopped. The only way to really avoid such things was to be working for the Combine. And then it was the citizens who were likely to kill you, so really… you were dead either way.
Better dead batting for the right team. At least, that's what Barney figured.
He was given about half an hour to himself to get used to the massive computer terminal that took up the wall, but instead spent the time exploring the room. A locked door was easily opened with a firm kick, revealing a dilapidated storage room behind. Following a ladder in the middle of the room, he found that it led to a platform above his head, where there was a fairly accessible window.
Clambering up himself, he stumbled across some crates he could pile up and found himself looking down a not insubstantial drop to the grassy alleyway below. But if people grabbed onto the vines running up and down the wall, they should be able to make it without too much injury. An ajar door at the end of the alleyway caught his attention.
Calling up schematics on the computer, he found that the door led to the recruitment centre, which in itself was just next to the plaza. And thus, an escape route was born.
Every single citizen who came through had no idea what Barney was talking about. Even if they did and were horrendously bad at hiding it, he let them go, giving them the directions to get the hell out of dodge. Luckily some gruesome device suspended above the torture chair was designed to completely destroy anybody sat in it, so there were no questions about what he had done to his detainees.
Shit, the higher ups must have thought he was a merciless bastard.
That was probably why he was picked for a raid.
Nothing special, he was told. Just something to teach the locals who was in charge. Barney doubted there was anyone in City 17 who didn't know, but he kept that to himself.
And so, there he was, rocking from side to side in one of the Combine troop vans, somewhere he had never imagined he would be, and certainly not from this side of the equation. Seeing all the white masks staring at him from the darkness was a haunting experience. He doubted he would forget it anytime soon. Although he figured that worse was to come.
There was little warning when the time came. Just a green light and a grinding beep that accompanied the door on the side of the van sliding open. They all filed out and charged into the building.
Barney had been preparing himself for this eventuality. He would have to come to terms with that fact that he would see innocent people beaten, even killed. It wasn't pleasant, and it would probably put him opposite a psychiatrist for the rest of his life (if shrinks were around after this was all over), but it was something that had to be done in order that the entire human race be saved.
At least, that's how Dr Kleiner put it, enthusiastic finger waving in the air and all.
Somehow, 'coming to terms' and 'going through with' were different things entirely. He had thought he would be able to get away with simply looking menacing, but not actually doling out any of the punishment himself. That was how he justified it, at least in his own little Barney world.
But something about the Combine soldier that accompanied them on the raid made him itchy. He was watching each and every one of them, evaluating and acting as though every single Civil Protection officer was itching to have Combine machinery jammed into their guts and have their will taken away.
But then again, thinking about some of his 'comrades'…
The raid went 'smoothly' (Barney didn't want to think about raids like these going positively in any way, shape or form). The people had no idea they were coming. Most were asleep, huddled around one another for warmth. Only one was awake, a woman sitting on a windowsill and watching the quiet streets. A CP beside Barney rushed him instantly, the baton thudding sickeningly against her skull and cracking the window at the end of the swing.
Barney, all too aware of the soldier's eyes on him, tried to make himself look busy without actually doing anything. He walked to different people, making idle threats and shoving them around. The sheer terror alone made Barney want to scream and kill all the Combine in the room. But now wasn't the right time. He knew that.
But every part of his soul that had wanted to join the police and protect people when he was a boy was tearing at his insides, dying with every whimper and plea that came from the innocent people around him.
"You."
Praying he wasn't the target of the soldier's comment, he went about his business, shoving a rather terrified girl to the floor as gently as he could manage while still trying to make it look nasty. It was not an easy balance to achieve.
"J27."
Shit. That was him all right.
Barney turned and stood to attention. His fellows, while curious about the contact, still kept on going about their work. They knew better than to be seen as slackers in front of the higher-ups.
"Sir."
"You're not doing anything."
He gulped, hoping the white mask would conceal it somehow. "Sir?"
The soldier just cocked his head. With a movement so fast Barney had to fight the instinct to flinch, the soldier grabbed the girl that had just been dropped to the floor.
"Get some information out of her."
"Sir, I have already questioned her. She doesn't know anything."
His superior tossed the girl roughly to the floor. Light blue lenses glared into his own. "I said… get some information out of her. Do you understand me?"
It was impossible not to understand him. The soldier knew that the girl knew nothing. Hell, everyone in the room knew. But that wasn't the point here. The point was to show everyone just who was in control of this planet and its people.
Tears streamed down the girl's face. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old.
"Please…"
Barney's jaw tightened, and he pulled out the baton. Trying to literally question her would get him nowhere. The soldier was more likely to shoot him for insubordination if he did anything but use his baton on the defenceless girl. The resistance needed him on the inside. He was saving lives. Already today he had saved a dozen people. That alone would justify what he was about to do.
Logically.
Barney closed his eyes. God… please forgive me.
He hit her around the head, aiming for a spot that he hoped wouldn't leave her with a concussion. Barney stopped and glanced to the soldier. He was expecting more.
The girl whimpered on the floor, holding out a hand to someone behind Barney. The man who had been huddled with her when they had all burst in shook his head and scrambled to the corner of the room. Barney hated him for it. He hated him, he hated the CPs, he hated the Combine…
"J27. Continue."
But he hated this bastard all the more. Barney struck her in the midsection, and her groan mixed with sobs. He glanced up to the small label on the soldier's uniform.
EF73.
Barney burned the number into his brain as he struck again.
The crowbar was smooth, especially under his gloves. With a grimace, he tugged them off with his teeth before angrily tossing them to the ground. He wanted to rip off the entire CP uniform and burn the fucking thing, but pleading words from Kleiner had managed to stay his hand. For now.
But he honestly didn't know how long he could go on with the job. If he was going to be called upon to do that all the time… what if he got promoted? What if he was put in charge of a CP unit and had to oversee beatings like that by the dozen?
What then?
"What then, Barney? What then?" he muttered, jumping to his feet and pacing around the lab, swinging the crowbar around idly as he went.
He knew Kleiner was watching him from where he stood next to those vats of orange bubbly stuff. Barney remembered wishing it was an energy drink or something, but no. Something to do with balancing the overflow ratio of the teleporters' aspect… something. It was the kind of thing that Gordon would usually translate for him.
"It stops the teleporter from overheating."
"See, doc, why couldn't you just say that?"
The barest hint of a smile flickered across his face. Apparently, that was all Kleiner needed.
"Uh, Barney…"
The ex-security guard gave him the smallest, least offensive glare he could.
Kleiner didn't notice. "I realise you aren't feeling particularly… talkative. But I'm expecting a call from Eli any minute, and I really can't afford to leave these readouts-"
Faster than he meant to, Barney brought the crowbar to his head and saluted. Kleiner ducked his head a little, and Barney wanted to cry.
"Sorry," he mumbled, wandering through the open wall-door thing and into the under construction teleporter lab. Once there, he put his arms out straight and rested against the green shelving that held all manner of equipment that, to Barney, just looked like lots of DVD players stacked on top of each other.
"Come on… get it together, you cry-baby…"
A burst of static brought his head up. It was the old TV perched atop the shelving on his right.
"Izzy? -ou there?"
Barney walked over. "Hey doc."
Eli's thoroughly wrinkled face smiled, revealing yet more. "Barney. How are you?"
Christ. A loaded question, if ever there was one.
"Barney?"
"It's all good, doc."
Obviously not convincing in the least, Eli slid into a chair somewhere beneath Barney's line of sight. The sorrow on his face made Barney's insides burn a little. How dare he feel pity for him? He had no idea what he just had to do.
"I'm sorry. I can't imagine-"
"Let's-" he calmed himself. "…just leave it alone, okay?"
"Barney, you need to talk about this before it eats-"
He closed his eyes and sighed, smiling cruelly to himself. "Would you please, just… shut the hell up. For once? You scientists, all the time, yak, yak, yak. Where the hell's Gordon when you need him?"
Eli didn't answer, and Barney glared up at him.
"Huh? Where is he? Isn't he supposed to save us soon? That's what Messiahs do, isn't it? Then where the hell is he? Why isn't he here saving us right now? Where the hell was he when I had to beat an innocent girl, huh?"
Both Eli and the newly arrived Dr Kleiner sighed when he said that.
"Barney…"
Looking around to Dr Kleiner, he saw the frail old scientist avert his gaze before retreating into the main lab area.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"No it's not."
Barney clenched his jaw. "I know it's not, but…" He took a long breath, and let it out again. That was all that was stopping the tears at this point.
"Look… if saying 'It's fine' gets me through the day, then that actually is fine. Even if I'm not fine. Get it?"
After a few moments of blank staring, Eli smiled. "I went to Harvard and I don't get it."
And Barney laughed. He actually laughed, bringing up his crowbar carrying hand to rub his forehead.
"Yeah… I know."
"Barney?"
"Yeah?"
"Why do you have that crowbar?"
"Helps me think."
"Where's it from?"
"You'll never guess."
"Black Mesa?"
Barney gasped theatrically. "Holy shit, you got it."
A broad smile was the response, and Eli leant back in his chair. "It's not… his, is it?"
"What?" he asked, looking down at the weapon while he measured its heft. "The crowbar that laid waste to a hundred soldiers? The crowbar that tamed the mighty Gargantua? The crowbar that split the monstrous Nihilanth in two? That crowbar?"
Eli snorted a laugh. "I had to ask."
"Everyone does."
Both men were quiet for a moment, staring off into their own separate areas of space. Finally, Barney broke the silence.
"Look, doc… I'm not okay with this. And I probably never will be. But it's something I've got to do. It's for the future of the human race, right? I gotta have faith in that."
Eli leant forward, conspiratorially. "Want to know a secret?"
"Always."
"I don't have faith in the future of humanity. Or God, or Buddha, or anything like that. But I've got Alyx. That's enough for me."
Barney smiled. "You and me both, doc."
"And besides, it's not your faith you've really got to worry about. It's the entire human races'. You know how we can beat the Combine. They don't. All they've got is hearsay of some scientist in a space suit running around a government facility from a decade and a half ago."
"Geez, doc, way to make a guy feel old." He looked at the crowbar, holding it up to the light. "So what you're saying is… I'm just holding the torch for the next runner."
"I guess you could say that."
He nodded, staring at the gleaming weapon. "I think I will, doc." Smiling sadly, he held the crowbar in both hands, like a knight studying his sword.
"Whatever gets me through the day, right?"
(A/N: I love writing Barney, I really do.
Anyway, thanks for all the reviews so far. They're always appreciated, trust me.)