Disclaimer: We don't own Half-Life.
Sidelines
Year Eighteen by Super Chocolate Bear
The steady line broke jaggedly once more as the pencil snapped. Kleiner bit back the curse that would have made only himself blush. Barney would just smile at the exclamation as though he were a child trying to be a grown-up. Such a condescending attitude would infuriate any other man, but Dr Isaac Kleiner wasn't really one for those kinds of emotional outbursts.
If he was honest, it was because all of those things seemed so very small to him. Even before the Combine invaded and the fate of the entire planet rested on his diminutive shoulders, he had never felt particularly engaged with the rest of the world. Science. That was key. That was, in the end, what everything came down to. The emotional actions and impulses of others were all down to a mix of chemicals and electrical impulses. Even Dr Breen and the Combine, for all they had done, could be justified by the science.
Every wrong choice, every evil act… it all came down to science.
Of course, science didn't explain why his hand was so shaky as he tried to finish the ridiculously simple diagram before him. Why was he having trouble with this? He had drawn diagrams and written equations far more complicated in shape and size than this. And yet… here he was, his hand gripping the pencil too tightly, pressing it to the (all too precious and rare) paper until the tip snapped off.
Most frustrating.
Perhaps it was Barney distracting him. Yes, that must be it. He was the only thing that was different in the lab. He must somehow be affecting Kleiner's subconscious, making him nervous, precipitating adrenaline, which sent far too much energy through his body for the delicate operation his hand was performing, and… eureka. Snapped pencil it was.
Feeling somewhat relieved, Kleiner smiled and allowed himself a break from his drawing. No point continuing if his subconscious was going to make him break pencils left right and centre. Their pencil supply wasn't precisely overflowing, either. It had taken a year or so for Barney to find a pencil sharpener in one of the Combine garbage disposal depots. So much Earth history… Barney had been particularly distraught over a destroyed DVD box set of something called 'The Three Stooges'. The noises Barney had made when trying to describe the characters to him… Dr Kleiner was glad the DVDs could not be retrieved.
"Okay, doc. All done."
He blinked and looked up at Barney, who had haphazardly managed to make himself at home at the table beside the entrance to the lab. Kleiner felt a pang of guilt for how he had snapped at Barney for brazenly brushing aside all the devices that had been painstakingly assembled there. Luckily, nothing had been broken, so 'no harm, no foul', as Barney had put it.
Sports references. More complicated than quantum mechanics.
Achingly pushing himself up out of the hard plastic chair (luckily arthritis was not one of the ailments that had afflicted him in his… somewhat older age), Dr Kleiner made his way over to the security guard. It amused Dr Kleiner that someone who had the utmost physical prowess in all matters violent would know how to assemble and use a sewing machine, but there was the proof, right in front of his eyes.
Displayed out in front of Barney like a tailor presenting a wedding dress to a bride-to-be was the civilian denim uniform that Kleiner had seen so many people wearing through the surveillance cameras. Although he had had no conception that they would be so… filthy. Barney's face indicated that Kleiner was to try it on. Sighing, Dr Kleiner took the top and trousers and moved to the teleportation lab, closing the wall behind him.
It didn't take him long to change, although Lamarr's unfaltering gaze was somewhat disturbing. Even though headcrabs had no eyes, he could still tell when he was being looked at, especially by his Heddy. It was amazing how attached one could get to something after only a few months of being in its presence. What had started out as a simple experiment had become a welcome companion.
Kleiner did up the last button of his shirt. He hated it. The itchiness, for one thing, would surely drive him insane if he were exposed to it for too long. And there was something about how… uniform it was. There was a certain irony to that observation, considering he had always been most comfortable in the white lab coats and striped ties that everyone in the Black Mesa facility wore. But that was different. That symbolised a unified effort towards a magnificent goal. Knowledge.
But this… this was about suppression. Conformity. The very opposite of discovery and everything he was working for in Black Mesa. He stepped out, and Barney smiled, a proud thumb sticking up into the air.
"Lookin'… normal, doc. Just like you should."
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Kleiner adjusted his glasses. "Thank you, Barney. Now, you indicated earlier that there is a… map for me to follow?"
"Sure is, doc," Barney replied, his smile becoming a devious smirk as he pulled out what appeared to be a palm-pilot, or at least the Combine equivalent. The ex-security guard ushered him over, and Kleiner peered over his shoulder, glasses reflecting the bright blue light of the monitor.
"Now, I've marked all the checkpoints in red, so you know what to avoid. Be careful for Metrocops. Don't stare at 'em, but don't ignore 'em either. And for the love of Christ, don't greet 'em. Not a nod, not a smile, not a wink and a 'who loves ya baby?', nothin'. You got that, doc?"
He frowned and stared at Barney. "'Who loves you, baby?'"
Barney grinned. "Doc, that might just be the funniest thing I've heard in a year." His eyes focused on something else, and his smile faded.
"Damn, that's sad."
He handed over the device, and Dr Kleiner took it cautiously, tapping buttons and feeling happier for it.
"Okay, I'm gonna get going. Remember, wait an hour before you set off. It's gonna take me a while to scrounge up an APC while no-one's lookin'."
His mouth forming a thin line, Dr Kleiner concentrated on the palm-pilot. "Indeed."
The ex-security guard paused for a moment before stepping forward and placing a hand on Kleiner's shoulder.
"It'll be okay, doc. Just you wait, we'll have you at Black Mesa East in no time, and then you and Eli can put your eggheads together and take a crack at those cave drawings."
A disparaging, weary look was sent at his old friend. "They are not 'cave drawings', Barney. They may just hold the key to creating a localised teleportation network no longer dependent on Xen relays. This, coupled with the-"
Barney issued forth a leather clad palm, stopping Kleiner in mid-sentence. "Doc. All I need to know is that they're important."
"Indeed they are, Barney. We owe a great debt of gratitude to whomever once resided in that cave."
Something imperceptible flashed across Barney's face. "Say, doc… I've been thinking about it, and… could it…?"
Waiting patiently, Kleiner just tilted his head and blinked.
"I mean… y'know… Gordon? Could it have been him? Eli's been tellin' us that he's comin' back eventually, and maybe this was his way of-"
"I sincerely doubt Gordon would help in such an anonymous way, Barney. Even if anonymity was his intention, Dr Freeman always had a certain tendency to… how can I put it…?"
"Wake up the dead?"
"Well, rather grim, but the analogy is apt."
However grim it was, it did nothing to abate Barney's smile. He took a breath and jammed a thumb over his shoulder towards the door.
"I'd better get goin', doc. See you soon."
Mustering up as reassuring smile as he could, Kleiner nodded and watched the ex-security guard stride out of the room. He remembered a time when Barney would lollop around as though he didn't have a care in the world, even when on duty. Now his pace was barely below a jog. To see someone who was once so calm, so carefree…
Kleiner blinked the thought away and tried to get back to the blueprints he had been working on. Of course, they weren't technically blueprints; the kind of specialised paper required was something the Combine didn't create in abundance, if at all. Even normal paper was hard to come by, since no-one was making it anymore. It was all random documents and tattered books found all around the city, taking up space on the lower levels.
Once Barney found a child's math book. Kleiner had heard nothing more on the subject, and the look in the younger man's eyes hadn't encouraged him to enquire.
The blueprints did not go well, and Dr Kleiner ended up sacrificing an entire pencil in his efforts. By the time he had managed to dig another out, his hour was up, marked by an old alarm clock shaped like Bart Simpson. He reminded himself to give it back to Alyx once this was all over. He had no desire to be woken by 'Yo dude, wake up and get out of bed' ever again.
I certainly didn't help his nerves.
The journey through the secret corridors was long and quiet. Some of the levers to open the doors from the other side had rusted slightly, and without Barney's well used muscles or Alyx's useful energy, they were rather difficult to open. But he managed it. He always did.
He found himself unconsciously steadying himself as the elevator jerked to life and trundled up the shaft, metal creaking and groaning as he ascended. It had been a long time since Kleiner had been in a lift. The ones at Black Mesa had been noisy, but steadier. Of course, he was always ready for some announcement to come over the speakers and inform him that Dr Breen wanted to speak to him or that Dr Freeman had caused another fire in the lab or that Dr Magnusson had found Dr Vance's tie.
The elevator didn't take long to reach the correct level, and he was descending down some old stairs before he could shake away the memory of Gordon and Barney sheepishly standing in front of him, their faces a scorched black as though someone had thrown soot all over them.
"Gordon said he could make popcorn faster, so…"
The scientist shrugged, an indiscriminate powder puffing from his dusty lab coat. "It worked last time."
Dr Kleiner smiled as he reached the door at the bottom of the old, creaky stairs. He pulled it open, and stepped out into the sunlight.
And gasped.
It was cold. Colder than his lab. A breeze of wind brushed past him, making him shiver. He instinctively brought his hands up around his arms to keep in the warmth. A ghoulish figure watched him from across the street, baton glistening in the midday sunlight.
Trying to remember what Barney told him, Kleiner lowered his hands and let them drop by his sides. He started walking to the left, although he wasn't sure if that was where he was supposed to be going. As far as he was concerned, anywhere the CP couldn't see him was superlative.
Continuing his walk down the cobbled roads and down some side alleys, the scientist finally managed to afford himself some privacy, and pulled out the map device Barney had given him.
"Let me read a letter I recently received."
Kleiner ducked his head at the echoing voice and shoved the map into his pocket. That sounded like Dr Breen. Heading for the other end of the alleyway, he emerged out into a courtyard, where something hideous had been erected in the centre.
Wallace Breen's smiling face.
"'Dear Dr Breen. Why has the… 'Combine' seen fit to suppress our reproductive cycle? Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen.' Thank you for writing, 'Concerned'. Of course, your question touches on one of the basic biological impulses, with all its associated hopes and fears for the future of the species. I also detect some unspoken questions."
A scowl knotted Kleiner's features.
I'm certain you detect questions, you opportunistic-
A citizen pushing past him brought him out of his futile cursing. Standing around like an idiot glaring at a glorified television wasn'tgoing to help anyone.
"'Do our benefactors really know what's best for us?' 'What gives them the right to make this kind of decision for mankind?' 'Will they ever deactivate the suppression field and let us breed again?'"
He had been told about these 'announcements', but had never seen them. It was depressing and frightening at the same time. Dr Kleiner decided not to dwell on it. Instead, he returned to the relative privacy of the alleyway and checked his route on the map.
Following it was fairly easy, even for someone such as he who wasn't even sure how to work a compass. Roadblocks were avoided with ease, and by the third or fourth CP patrol, Kleiner had become used to how one should look at them. It was simple, really; don't hide your hatred and fear of them. If they can see it, they believe it. Ignorance only proves guilt. The scanners were more distracting. More than once he had tried to shoo them away, only to attract the attention of passing CPs. He had learnt to ignore them, too.
He was making his way through another alleyway, avoiding a road blocked by several Combine APCs when something made him stop. A noise. Something familiar, and yet not. As though it were something he had not heard in some time.
He looked around. Just a dumpster beside him. A Combine announcement echoed through the air, and an APC roared past in the distance. Scanners whirred and clicked as they passed overhead, ignoring him.
There it was again. Following his ears, Dr Kleiner turned until he was looking at the dumpster. Creeping forward, he leaned his head over.
And then Dr Kleiner remembered what it was. A whimper. The slightest, weakest noise a human being could make. Making his way around the dumpster, he found himself looking down at a citizen. Young. Despairingly so. Short, badly shaved hair did noting to hide the bruises.
Crouching down, Dr Kleiner extended out a hand. Open the slightest touch of his shoulder, the man jolted and curled further into himself.
Kleiner's mouth suddenly felt very dry. "Are…" He looked up and down the alleyway. "Are you all right?"
Agonisingly slowly, the man brought his head up, staring at Kleiner with glassy blue eyes. There was no thought behind his gaze. No understanding. Just fear. He was like an animal. Kleiner spotted the citizens bare hands. The fingers on his left hand looked broken, and were already beginning to swell.
"I…" Kleiner swallowed. "I cannot stay here. I… I have to be somewhere else." He reached out another tentative hand. "Are…"
This time, the boy cried out, swatting his hand away before covering his head with his hand.
Dr Kleiner's lip began to tremble. No. He couldn't do this.
Two Civil Protection officers walked to the mouth of the alleyway. One spotted him and nodded to his comrade. They made their way over.
"Please, you have to move." Kleiner tried to grab the boy and pull him up. The beaten civilian struggled, and for the first time in years, Dr Kleiner cursed himself for being so physically weak. Barney would have been able to pick the boy up and throw him over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?"
All the air left Kleiner's lungs. His mouth bobbed open for a moment or two. "Um…" he took a steadying breath. "My friend here. He seems to have… fallen over. I was trying to help him to some medical-"
The first CP roughly batted him out of the way, and Kleiner fell to the ground. As he clambered to his feet, adjusting his thick glasses as he went, he could only watch as the CPs looked down at the boy, hands on hips.
"Fell over. Is that right? You fell over?"
The patronising tone of voice made Kleiner wish for a crowbar. Then Gordon wouldn't be the only scientist killing people with everyday tools.
A whimper was the only response.
A kick followed. "Get up. He's taking you to a medical station."
Still whimpering, the boy just curled tighter. Kleiner was surprised that was possible. The two officer shared a glance, and Kleiner walked over to them.
"Please. If you'd just let me-"
An elbow to the gut was his reward. It had been so long since he'd felt pain like this. Even longer since it was from someone assaulting him. As he gasped for air, staggering over to the wall on the other side of the alleyway, Kleiner came to the well thought out conclusion that he didn't like it.
The primal scream from the boy brought Kleiner's attention up, and watched as the citizen charged straight into one of the CPs, knocking him to the ground.
"Get him off me!" he barked, voice garbled both by the mask and the ineffective blows the boy was raining down on him.
His fellow officer complied, switching on his sparking baton and delivering a firm blow to the boy's head. He tumbled back, the back of his skull hitting the stone alleyway floor with a sickening thud. The officers moved over and administered a few more kicks to the belly for good measure.
"Please," Kleiner gasped, stumbling over to them. The same CP as before whirled with his baton, hitting Kleiner across the face and sending him, too, onto his back. Seeing him on the floor did something to affect the CP, as he quickly turned to his busy friend and gestured for them to leave.
After one more kick to the boy, they left, chuckling away with disgusting enthusiasm about their latest escapade.
Pain throbbed through his skull from the bruise on his temple, and he tried to fight the dizziness as he struggled to his shaky feet, ears ringing. Dr Breen's voice echoed from above as he made his way to the boy and knelt down beside him, feeling for a pulse and hoping, praying that science wasn't going to be the overriding factor in whether the boy lived or died.
Please, God… please let him live.
"Welcome. Welcome to City 17. You have chosen or have been chosen to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centres. I though so much of City 17 that I elected to establish my administration here, in the Citadel so thoughtfully provided by our benefactors. I've been proud to call City 17 my home. And so, whether you are here to stay or passing through on your way to parts unknown… welcome, to City 17."
The boy groaned, and Dr Kleiner cast his bleary eyes upward, uttering a silent thank you to whatever deity would listen.
"It's safer here."
The way the metal door to his lab slammed open, it was almost as though it were as angry with him as Barney was.
"Jesus H Christ, doc, where the hell were you? I waited for an hour before some metrocops and soldiers - God damn soldiers - showed up asking for some clearance. Do you realise how much shit I was almost swimming in?"
Sighing, Dr Kleiner turned away from his work on the desk, and only then did Barney see the blood on his apron. He was on him almost instantly, turning him around as though he were inspecting a damaged garment.
"Holy- are you all right, doc? What the… did you get shot?"
"No, Barney."
"Then what-" his eyes darted to the open door to the teleporter lab. He glanced cautiously to Kleiner, who merely nodded.
Slowly, the ex-security guard made his way around and saw the sleeping form of the boy, resting on a tattered sleeping bag in the middle of the room, surrounded by disassembled teleporter parts.
"I… apologise, Barney. Despite my best efforts, blood has still managed to get into my citizen garments."
"Jesus, doc. What were you doing?"
Standing beside Barney in the doorway, he tried his best to scrub the blood from his hands with the bottom of his apron.
"Just what I ought to be doing."