AN: The song featured is "Exile Vilify" by the National. In case you didn't know, it was also featured in Portal 2 in one of the Rat Dens. Also, reviews of any kind really motivate this story. It doesn't necessarily need to be criticism, but any ideas to make it better are welcome.
James Wilson was the same height and almost the same weight as Doug. He had fluffy brown hair that he parted and kept well-groomed. His face was clean-shaven but he always seemed to have a small worry wrinkle between his eyebrows. He greeted Doug with a quick handshake and offered him some tea.
"Yeah, thanks," Doug said.
James nodded and set a kettle of water on the stovetop. Then he led Doug outside to his porch.
"Here, you can sit in this chair," James said. "I'm sorry if it's not very comfortable."
"I've been sitting in cramped spaces for about a decade," Doug said. "A folding chair is luxury to me."
"Tell me again, where have you been?" James asked. "Spencer mentioned you when he was dropping off medical supplies."
"I've been in Aperture since before the, uh…alien invasion," Doug explained. "I was a programmer there."
"Ah, programming," James said. "My little brother Taylor is interested in scripting video games as a career. Not like that will do him much use in this day and age."
"You have a computer?" Doug asked. "I don't understand. Weren't you being oppressed by the Combine? Isn't that why you all conducted a revolution in the first place?"
"Surprisingly, we weren't as oppressed as other parts of the world," James said. "It's as if—Oh, please sit."
Doug finally sat down in the folding chair just as the kettle began to whistle.
"Shoot," James said. "I'll be right back." He hurried inside and the whistling slowed down to a stop.
Doug took this opportunity to lean back and close his eyes. He could hear Valentine singing through her open door as she cleaned the kitchen.
"Exile.
It takes your mind
Again.
Exile.
It takes your mind
Again.
You've got sucker's luck.
Have you given up?
Does it feel like a trial?
Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?"
Doug knew this song. He'd been obsessed with this song for a while. But something bothered him about Valentine singing it. Where had she heard it?
"Oh, who cares?" said a voice in his head. "Just listen to that voice. She understands you. She knows you."
How could she possibly know me? Doug thought. I just met her today. Maybe she is an alien. Maybe she's been reading my mind.
"That's ridiculous, Doug," Caroline's voice suddenly said. She sounded as gentle as always. "Valentine is not an alien and she isn't reading your mind."
Then I'm very curious to know where she's heard that song, Doug thought. Because I've only ever heard it in Aperture.
Caroline laughed softly. "You're jumping to conclusions, Doug. You can't assume that this song only exists in Aperture."
Despite Doug's suspicions, he smiled. He was willing to embrace any sort of familiarity in this strange world.
"That's some voice, isn't it?" James asked as he returned with two steaming cups of tea. He handed one to Doug and sat in the chair next to him.
"You mean Valentine?" Doug asked. "Yeah, she has a lovely singing voice."
"She's quite the lady," James said quietly. "A little rude sometimes, but she has good intentions. She prefers to keep to herself, though. She always has. Ever since the revolution, she's become even more antisocial. I hear her singing more than I see her face these days."
Doug stared down into his cup of tea as he contemplated this. Valentine was a bit mysterious. And sarcastic and forthright and caring and maybe a little cute. Above all that, though, something else bothered Doug.
"Doesn't it seem like she's hiding something?" he asked James.
"I'm sure she is," James said. "If you ask me, I think something happened during the last night of the revolution. But I have no idea what." He sighed with a hint of defeat.
Doug sipped at his tea as his thoughts wandered around Valentine. He wondered what had happened to her child's father. Had the Combine killed him? Had she killed him? Or maybe he had just abandoned them.
Why the hell do I keep thinking about her? he asked himself.
"Because she's an attractive, independent woman," a snarky voice in his head said.
"Because you want to know more about her," a calm voice said.
"Because of that angelic voice," said a breathy third voice.
"Because she's controlling your thoughts," said a nervous voice.
"Doug?" This voice belonged to James.
Doug turned to look at him. "Yes?"
"You just had a 'thousand-mile stare' on your face," James said.
"Oh. Sorry."
"It's fine," James assured. "To be honest, I was a little worried I was losing you. Taylor—you know, my brother—He often gets that look and…Well, nevermind."
"Weren't you saying something earlier?" Doug asked. "About how the Combine didn't oppress you?"
"Oh, right," James said. "They made us wear uniforms as a sign of conformity, but they let us keep all of our old possessions. It was as if they didn't see us as a threat."
"Then why did you revolt?"
"Well, like I said. They never saw us as a threat….so they would often publicly ridicule individuals or degrade us as a whole. Soldiers would grope women and arrest citizens for the most asinine reasons. They even took some of our elders and shipped them off to Iceland. Or at least that's what they told us. Meanwhile, citizens became more scared. That fear turned into anxiety and aggression which built up and exploded at the soldiers. Europe's soldiers are stricter but North America's soldiers are the most tyrannical. We had a little more freedom but we also had more humiliation."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Doug said.
"Don't think anything of it," James said. "We're free now. Come on. I'll cut your hair."
James went inside again and returned with a bed sheet that he tied around Doug's neck. Then he took Doug's tea which he set down on a small table. He picked up a pair of scissors and began snipping away at Doug's hair. After the first few minutes, Doug remembered how awkward it was to get a haircut from a stranger.
"So…were you a barber before the, uh…invasion?" he asked, weakly attempting small-talk.
"Me? No way," James said with a light chuckle. "I was fifteen when the Black Mesa Incident happened."
"Oh." It seemed so easy for Doug to forget that he had been in stasis for some amount of years.
"At that age, I was actually considering becoming a doctor," James went on. "The way the human body functions just sort of fascinated me. I didn't get to go to college for it, but I studied the practice of medicine so I could treat people in private. The Combine would put citizens into debt for treating a sore throat. I treated people for free to make life here a little bit easier."
"So you're like the local barber/doctor," Doug said, smiling.
James smiled, too. "I guess you could say that. My mother taught me how to cut hair so she wouldn't have to be the only one to tame my brothers' manes. She also taught me how to cook. I did everything I could around the apartment while our mom dealt with our dad." James' smile diminished.
"Was your dad…a drunk?" Doug asked hesitantly.
"You hit that nail right on the head, Doug," James said. "You're a smart guy. Our dad was one of the many people who couldn't handle the invasion without alcohol. He had a short temper and an iron fist at home. Taylor would talk about wanting to be in the circus or becoming a street performer. Our dad would reply with 'How's that going to do us good with the Combine around?' Then he'd 'smack some sense' into Taylor. Eventually, he got fed up with hearing about Taylor's dreams so he started locking the poor kid in a closet for days at a time." He sighed. "Now every once in a while, he'll sort of retreat into an alternate persona."
"Oh," Doug said. "I-I'm sorry." He really didn't know how to react to this. Having to comfort someone was more difficult than he remembered it being before. "Um, what happened to your dad?"
"He's dead now," James said. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. Sorry. You probably don't want to hear about this."
"Don't apologize for it," Doug said. "It can help to talk about it."
"You're a really nice guy," James said. "Are you getting your own apartment in this building?"
"No," Doug said. "I need to get back to Aperture as soon as possible."
James laughed. "I don't think you need to worry about going back to work anymore, Doug."
"It's a long story," Doug said, "but I need to get back to my friend."
"Well, if you need anything while you're in town, please feel free to call on me, okay?"
