A/N: Sessions 6 through 9 of this story, I definitely had help from my twin, bunnyqlita, with this. There was supposed to be a Session #10 but it is so huge, I'll put it up separately due to the heaviness in themes. Enjoy!


Session #6: Act Like a Child

Home...a endless prairie where he and his beloved siblings ran around and played, no matter their age. In that open space, they were children again, playing hide and seek, reading, exploring, and napping on the soft ground. He had in his tiny hand his sister's, her smile and gray locks of hair contrasting the earthy yellows and greens. "My dearest-" When Freeman opened his eyes from the reverie, the tall wheat and flowers were gone, replaced with steel and cement. Goddamn call's making me homesick, he mourned until he heard the clang of the trash compactor come online. Instantly, the physicist grabbed a nearby crowbar and hurried out of the spot where he'd been left to die by two soldiers. They managed to beat him unconscious but Gordon remembered each of their faces and voices. They're in for a very pissed-off nerd on a mission once he properly recovered. He would've continued on if he didn't find the grotesque wall writings just down the hall...

A bird whose wings have been plucked will lose all of its feathers, and turn into the creature that it was before it evolved into a bird. That was all written in soldiers' blood, making Gordon's hair stand on end. His back immediately ached but he had to dismiss the ugly, gruesome thoughts contaminating his mind. He wasn't a bird. He was not a bird. But he'd rather steer clear of any soldiers that might have their knives handy.

Five months ago...

Gordon, the insufferable prankster when he wanted to be, wanted to get the drop on his friend on that given day. Since he did get the rest of the day off, he decided to use the secret passageways and vents to get to Blue Shift's dorms. Armed with a can of silly string, a bag of feathers and determination, the gleeful scientist made his way through the ventilation complex.

He quietly crawled out of the open vent in the locker room, making sure no one saw or heard him. Just then, he saw Barney enter the shower, laughing as he hung up his cellphone. Sitting duck...Gordon snickered as he readied the can.

Barney, unaware of his stringy demise, began to undress. "Damn I am sore..." he complained as he took off the bulletproof vest and undid his shirt. His torso was covered in the day's sweat, he was pretty ripped for a mid-level security guard. It made the physicist tingle in all the right places.

Holy shit...Gordon thought, his thoughts distracting him from everything else in the world, including the can in his hand. It fell with a loud CLUNK, immediately alerting Barney. "What the—Gordon? What the fuck are you doing here?" It only took him a second to realize his friend was gawking at him, another to see the silly string and feathers. "Seriously?"

Gordon composed himself quickly, hoping that there was no drool to tattle his intense study of Barney's physiology. "Eh, felt like making you dance like a chicken. NOW DANCE!" he said, squirting the sticky string at his friend. "YOU CHILDISH SON OF A BITCH!" Calhoun yelled between laughs, tackling Freeman down and wrestling the can out of his grip. He then proceeded to return the favor, covering him from head to toe. They laughed on the floor for a good while, hardly breathing and scaring off any other cop. "You look like a bird exploded on you!" "Thanks jackass," the cop retorted, "now I have to take a bath. You can take the other stall."

"Ever done it with a man?" Gordon offhandedly asked as he pulled out the string off himself and his friend showered. "Nope, you?""Can't say, Fraternity secrecy pledge." "Dude, really?" "I'd have to kill you," Freeman shrugged. "I'm the one with the gun," Barney snapped back, unable to avoid his best friend's approving nod. "Yes, yes you do." The blush was inevitable, and the towel toss even less so, "Go away, Freeman; you're making this awkward."

Session # 7: Girl Talk

None, and I mean, NONE of the women in Black Mesa were seen but Freeman could definitely hear them. It seemed that headcrabs were not attaching too well with female specimens but that was completely unfounded here-say. Then again, the men to women ratio in this research facility was abysmally low, even compared to Aperture Science. The rival company made Gordon think about his own sister and their competitive nature. For many years, Giaconda found fault in all of her beloved brother's lovers, even regarding royalty (symbolic or otherwise) as simple "floozies", hardly worth his attention. Men were entirely dismissed as passing fancies for them. And, as much as Freeman hated to admit, she was right. They were all fleeting desires, he quickly grew bored with each and every one of them.

Finding the body of Heather from Biology was not without a glance of annoyance; she died clutching her taser instead of grabbing a more effective weapon. And yet, Freeman got on his knees and laid her comfortably, as he'd done to the headcrabbed guard. He gave her a small kiss and sighed, "You didn't deserve this...no one did." He didn't go anywhere for a few minutes, he hid in the cubicles and reminded himself, "Not Barney." Barney...I could never hurt you. I care about you too much for that to happen. I might even-

4 months prior...

"No way." "I'd do her after two bottles of cheap wine." The banter was endless as the two friends hung around Dr. Kleiner's balcony-like lab. Watching the other scientists made for the world's worst Fuck or Not selection but Gordon and Barney made the most out of the situation. "Colette?" "Hell to the no; she's all work and no play. Plus, she has a taser and Gordon + Taser = Temporary Sterility." "Man, all she needs is a little Oirish lovin' and she'll be happy as a clam," Calhoun kid around, making an obviously rude hip thrust to emphasize. "Do that and I'll get back to you when your testicles are fried to a crisp," Gordon reminded him, slightly hoping that it really did happen. That much electricity fucking hurts and Barney always taunted how manly he was.

"And Miss Gertrude?" the scientist pointed at the old charming biddy at the External Guest Reception room. Today was her retirement; she still wore her party hat and toyed with her nice pen. "Gordon, no. Heel. She's what? 85?" Calhoun grimaced, recoiled at the thought of venturing into those ancient- "I'd do her back when I started in Black Mesa," Kleiner cut in with a grin. "In fact, I did." "Holy shit, REALLY?" both younger employees spun around, totally shocked at the revelation. Adding to the surprise, Isaac dusted off an old leather kit and presented them with an old monochrome picture. Gordon and Barney could barely believe what they were seeing. "Ahh, Gertrude, you were my very first, the little sex kitten-"

"Stop please! It's bad enough that you and her screwed around but now, the image of dear old Miss Gertrude naked is BURNED INTO MY SKULL!" Freeman exclaimed, hoping he could melt his eyes off at the Industry Materials and Processing Labs. "Hey, at least then, her tits didn't sag to the floor! THE INHUMANITY!" Calhoun was utterly flabbergasted by the thought of that sweet old lady that gave out cookies on Fridays could mount anything other than a reclining chair. Kleiner didn't take well the shenanigans and scolded them both back to work, completely forgetting that the two "youngsters" had yet to finish their cake slices.

The game quickly resumed, now in an empty senior senior senior vice manager office. "Molly?" "Bitch-face Molly from Marketing? With that attitude, it borders on beastiality. Pass," Ah, hit a sore spot! Gordon happily thought after that response from his best friend. "Don't kid yourself, Gordie; Gina told me all about your little kinks in bed," Barney quipped back, shutting up whatever witty comeback the nerd had. "I have a condition, it makes me overly sensitive," Gordon stated matter-of-fact. "Are you gonna cry to momma?" Calhoun so stupidly shot back before getting tackled to the ground. "Lemme show ya!"

Session # 8: Chicken

After twenty-four hours of no food and excessive strain to his body was pushing Gordon to his logical limit. He needed real food; snack food and coffee only slightly delayed the stomach growls. He was too far from a proper break room and all that was left was a dead soldier's lighter, the guy's hunting knife, nd a freshly killed head crab. The last snack machine had a note written in Bullsquid blood, "Yummy yummy," with a sample of stated species. It had been cut open and apart, the limbs gone but the organs intact. They didn't like the innards, the good doctor thought, disturbed by the notion of his fellow scientists reduced to hunting untested horrors for sustenance so soon. What would happen if they didn't like the aliens? The gruesome extreme exposed Darwin's Survival of the Fittest in a new light.

Either way, Freeman would have to undergo this rite of passage into madness as well. He might as well use the parasite. He thanked His Father he had a iron stomach or this would drive him as mad as Yummy Yummy. Yes, he's calling a possible cannibal that; no, he doesn't care. A little pile of torn papers made a suitable fuel supply for a small roast. Gordon took the knife, flipped the creature on its back, and studied it. He really should've paid more attention to the Fish Tank scientist. "Oh God...please don't infect me." The first cut was leathery and tough but a quick exposure to fire made it slightly more tender. Once the meat was apparently cooked through, the choice was made. "Bottoms up," Freeman cheered himself on, covered his eyes, and tossed the tissue into his mouth.

It was incredibly greasy, akin to a piece of pork right off the pan. Because of their cephalitic nature, Gordon figured that headcrabs were moving brains with mouths. Turns out he was half-right but the taste was unforgettable. It tasted like old caterpillars and stale ham, a combination the scientist could barely keep down. "I've, ugh, had worse with my ex, Rachel," he griped and yet continued to slice and devour. Ten minutes had elapsed and only half the alien had been eaten; Gordon managed to keep some of it in his system. The rest, he unceremoniously puked in a trash can, making him wish it actually tasted like chicken.

Two months ago...

The cop and the nerd were hanging out on their break when Barney took Gordon's chin and smiled ever so timidly. "I've been wanting to do this for a while now," he whispered, knowing only the ultra-geeks were in the area. "Me too..." Freeman answered in that same, sultry voice. They both drew closer and closer, eyes fluttering shut, lips pucking out slightly. "NOPE, CAN'T DO IT!" Calhoun immediately growled and backed off. Freeman grinned and fist-pumped in victory. "I am the KING of Gay Chicken!" "No fair, you're bisexual!" the guard called him out but it was too late, Gordon got sassy. "And your point is?" "The point is that it's either cringe-worthy awkward for both of us or it's not Chicken!" Barney's argument was hilarious, to which the scientist said, "Sugar, you don't kiss; you maul the poor victim."

"Haven't heard any complaints from Lauren," Calhoun shot back. "Obviously, you're not kissing the same lips you almost did just now," Gordon shrugged. "Like you're any better. Now fetch me a sandwich," Barney commanded, only to get shoved lightly. "No, I'm serious; I left my lunch back at my old post." Laughing along the way, the physicist opened the much better equipped fridge at the Quantum Physics Application Labs and took out some ingredients for an appropriately chicken breast sandwich for two. As he fixed the meal, Barney was fairly impressed by the set-up. "You take cooking classes during MIT?" "No, I'm applying chemistry. Cooking's nothing more than that," Freeman was quick to correct as he cut the construction into slices. A taste and the security guard ate the damn thing in a couple of bites. "...You're coming over next time I'm going to Lauren's." "Ooh, a threesome."

Meanwhile, the good, hardworking people in the aforementioned lab wondered if these two morons would ever get a room.

Session # 9 Ghosts

"I'm not an expert on the subject, but I think those are the voices of the damned," Freeman observed in a particularly dark hallway. The wails and moans echoed along the cement walls, splattered with blood and in some cases, brain matter. After a while in this place, the corpses started to look less than gunshot victims and more like suicides. There were signs of self-inflicted wounds to the head, vertical slits up the wrists and, in one dreadful case, still twitching from overdosing on painkillers. Gordon easily figured that, if ghosts were real, these would be the ones haunting. Suicides were always mourned in his home; they were the lost ones...the ones that could not be saved. He personally had never seen one this up close and yet, it was still a dead body. Like all the others he'd passed by.

Without further ado, Gordon pried the corpse from the chair and, after a struggle with the onset of rigor mortis, managed to lay him down properly. He was just fixing the man's arms when the corpse seized him and moaned, "You should've said no, bird." Immediately, the physicist scrambled away from the body and fired two more shots. "H-holy shit," his voice quivered a little; he was either hallucinating or he had just witnessed an actual haunting. And they knew about the experiment. The dead knew about it and blamed him, it was a truth. "I'm-I'm so sorry," the scared scientist whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Dr. Gordon Freeman didn't need a creepy transparent guy or a choir of lingering voices to be scared of. His guilt and remorse was a perfect fit to haunt him. He spotted a security guard and flipped him. His head was shattered beyond repair but he was too skinny, too pale. "Not Barney," that phrase meant so much right now, "Please, not Barney."

Three months prior...

It was Freeman's turn to pick the movie for Monday Night Scarefest and he was pleased with the result. He picked two movies: House of 1000 Corpses for the ladies and The Exorcist for the guys. By the second half of the latter, all that was left were Lauren, Barney, and himself. She was a photographer for the state newspaper, meaning she was always on the road and on the scene. She was perfect for a man who spent 75% of the day in a restricted area with little or no outside contact. Lauren would send Calhoun pictures of her locations, giving him glimpses of the world outside. They were definitely made for each other, and it showed by the way they were holding each other.

But Lauren seemed to compete with Freeman over Barney's attention, maybe it was in her imagination. Then again, the nerd was around him more, to the point that Sam Bundy, one of Barney's coworkers, called Lauren his "ghost". The guys at Blue Shift encouraged Calhoun to have some one-night stands or at least go to strip clubs. Gordon was the only voice of reason, making sure that the only "nudie bars" his best friend was going to would traumatize him into not cheating and give out only $1 bills. "Anyone wants a cold one?" the host geek asked. "I'll come with you," the photographer answered, kissing her boyfriend and following Freeman into the kitchen. They were going to mutually grill each other.

"So, do you have a girlfriend?" Lauren shot first as she uncapped her bottle. "Currently, none that may or may not electrocute me," Freeman answered flatly. "Ouch. Kinky guy?" "Sensitive. And what are your intentions with Barney? Don't be breaking his heart." The young woman laughed and clinked her beer with his. "Oh I won't; I plan on making him the happiest man in the world." The physicist would be lying if he didn't feel jealous. Who he was jealous of was quite uncertain. "Girls, girls, you're both very pretty. Now get back in here to watch the crabwalk!" Barney called out, breaking the ice and making them both smile. "Back to the grind, huh?" Lauren smirked. "He's so needy, you're lucky you're traveling all the time, and not deal with it."