Gordon shifted, half awake, relishing the cool softness of his pillow. His heels caught on the end of the mattress as he stretched; he was getting taller, he would need a grown up bed soon. His movement disturbed Ninja, who meowed sleepily and then slipped down onto the floor with a reproachful thump. As the smell of bacon frying drifted up from the floor below, Gordon thought it was going to be a pretty good day.

He could hear a siren, it sounded like a fire truck or something, only instead of passing by in the street outside it just seemed to get louder and louder…

Gordon opened his eyes and groaned. The siren was still blaring, but much louder and closer by; and he was still lying in a shallow pool of foul-smelling, luke-warm water, still had a headache that felt as though an axe was buried in the back of his head; still on the Combine overworld. He couldn't tell how long he'd been there, but he thought he'd been awake a few times before; his consciousness rising and receding like waves on a beach as the HEV suit fought to stabilize him. Now he had washed up here; awake, alive, but in a world of hurt, and with a strong taste of iron in the back of his throat.

That was assuming he was alive. Shortly after the Vortigaunts had restored Alyx to life and he'd guided her out of the mines, he remembered her making a joke. Something about Antlions, how it couldn't be heaven if there were Antlions. At the time he'd assumed it was her usual defence mechanism, joking to hide how sick and scared she was, and apart from adding to the list of things he hated about Antlions, he hadn't given it much more thought. Now, though, he wondered. She had been about to die, and then when she woke up they had gone through a tunnel and emerged into the light of a peaceful forest, surrounded by low-lying cloud. It was enough to make anyone think of heaven, if they were already that way inclined.

Which didn't bode well for him, Gordon thought. Where he was it was hot, dark and definitely underground. What was more, he'd finally lost his glasses. Forget parables about soup spoons with long handles; that settled it. No glasses meant that this was definitely hell.

Gordon could still hear the klaxon, and footsteps moving back and forth above his head, accompanied by the voice of the Overwatch. Gordon couldn't make out what it was saying, but he was willing to bet that his name was in there somewhere, so he thought he'd better get moving. He had fairly well resigned himself to the fact that he was stuck on the overworld, but he still didn't want to die at the hands of the Combine. He felt Anticitizen One deserved to retire undefeated.

He tried to raise himself up, but found that he couldn't move his right arm, couldn't even feel it. He groped for his right shoulder with his other hand, then worked his way down. It was still all there, but it was utterly numb, and his hand was clenched tight into a fist. Prising his fingers apart, he was delighted to find his glasses. He must have clutched them instinctively to his face when the blast hit.

Gordon polished the lenses lightly with his thumb, gazing at his glasses with something approaching reverence. They'd been through so much together; he wished there was some way of expressing his gratitude. "Dear Lenscrafters (Seattle branch); I am writing to express my appreciation for your products. Not only have they survived a resonance cascade, an alien invasion and a guerilla campaign, but they also made me a hit with the ladies. Well, one lady anyway. Yours sincerely; (Dr) Gordon Freeman, PhD, current location unknown but definitely not good."

He surprised himself with a short burst of barely suppressed laughter, the harsh sound echoing around the chamber. The HEV suit had stabilized him, but he'd lost a lot of blood, and he felt very lightheaded. Slipping on his glasses, the familiar slight pressure on his nose rather comforting, he saw why. As the heads up display came into focus, a single orange digit appeared on the edge of his vision… 3. He was amazed he was still alive, and horrified to think about what he must look like beneath the suit.

The footsteps above his head seemed to draw slightly closer, and he wondered if they'd heard him laughing. He dragged himself towards the wall, his arm trailing uselessly behind him, then worked his way along it, trying to put distance between himself and the shaft he'd fallen down. He found a vent cover, and jabbed at it ineffectively, wielding the crowbar with his left arm. Eventually it fell away, and he pulled himself inside. Crossing the floor had exhausted him, and he rested, feeling oddly secure in the dark enclosed shaft. He knew most people would think it bizarre, but vents held happy memories for him. Exploring the hidden secrets of the MIT campus with Dave P, his usual tunnelhacking companion; Dave P, who had been thinking about taking a job at Aperture. Wriggling through the vents at Black Mesa and dropping smoothly into Dr Kleiner's office, sometimes treating himself to a cup of his mentor's excellent coffee before pulling the shade up and waving happily to Barney through the glass panel in the door.

Thinking of Barney made him think once again of Alyx. She generally had some teasing comment to make as he disappeared off into the walls, but that was a thing of the past for him now. Gordon knew a lot of guys liked to act cynical about love, but he'd never been among them; he'd had his parents' example before him growing up as proof of concept. He'd just never expected it to happen to him; he knew most people considered him slightly odd, and to be honest he suspected Alyx did too, but she seemed to like it for some reason. His love for Alyx had become like a physical part of him, a part that ached now, the way his head and his ribs and his stomach ached. He wrapped his good arm around himself, closed his eyes and allowed himself to whimper a little, pain and loneliness sweeping through him as he lay in the dark.

Eventually, he felt able to go on again, comforting himself with the thought of what he'd achieved. Alyx might never know it, but the way he'd opened to the Combine through the resonance cascade was now closed again. And if he was going to be stuck on the overworld, he might as well get some payback for the previous 20 years. What with his newly discovered talent for sabotage and his innate ability to cause explosions, he thought he could cause the Combine quite a lot of trouble before they caught him. Working his way through the tunnel, he felt a gradual upward slope, and eventually noticed a patch of light ahead of him. Peeking out through the grate, he saw what looked like a storeroom, deserted. Gordon considered his options. If this was an area the Combine kept supplies, then there were likely to be medkits around, maybe even a charger. He knew he was living on borrowed time while he was here, but at least if he powered his suit up, he would be doing so in comfort and style. It was taking a risk, but he could hardly just stay up in the vents until he died of… well, whatever it was he would die of. The suit was out of power, so it probably wasn't feeding him.

That thought decided him, and he knocked the grille away from the opening. It hit the floor with a loud crash, and he waited for a few moments to see if he'd attracted any attention. The room remained empty, so he rolled out sideways and dropped into the room. His legs wouldn't support his weight and he fell heavily onto his side. Like a cat, he thought to himself, and surprised himself with another burst of giggles. Dragging himself to his feet, he knew he really needed to find a medkit. The first few cupboards he tried were bare, so he switched his attention to the bank of lockers on the opposite wall. One was locked, so he took his crowbar to the padlock, operating on the Calhoun Principle that anything which was well-protected was likely to be worth having. The cabinet contained another of the oddly shaped guns, but this one was blue instead of orange. Gordon's curiosity was stirred once again, and he pulled out the gun, grunting softly at how awkward it felt to use it left handed. Maybe it would make more sense on the world where it must have been manufactured. He pointed at the nearest wall, and fired.

In fact, it was the furthest from making sense that Gordon thought he'd ever been. Peering closely at what had appeared on the wall before him, his first thought was to wonder whether he'd fallen and hit his head. Well he had, obviously, several times; but he'd never seen anything like this before. He considered it for a long time, and then cautiously stuck his hand out and through. The cold arctic air was a shock after the warm humidity of the overworld. Nothing bad seemed to happen to his arm, so he ventured his head. He thought, he was almost certain, that he was back in the dry dock. He pulled himself through completely, cautious to avoid the blue firey edges of the opening. There was the cube, the cabinets, and the door with its little black stencils.

Gordon turned to consider the opening he'd just passed through. From this side the edges looked orange. This was fantastic, and insane. He fired the blue gun again, placing another opening adjacent to the orange one. Now they both appeared to open into the laboratory. He stood in front of one, waved his left hand out in front of the other, and saw his own black rubber gauntlet waving back at him. Bending sideways so that he could look directly through the other opening, he could now see his own torso, craning off to one side. He felt his jaw slacken, his eyes like saucers, his pulse pounding in his ears. Oh, this was so unfair… the most fantastical, unbelievable, so-wrong-it's-right phenomenon he had ever encountered, which in his career was saying something; and yet he was so lightheaded he doubted he'd be able to remember a grocery list, let alone get down to some serious Gedanken. He'd have to take the devices with him; and he quickly retrieved the other gun from the cupboard where he'd left it, clipping them both to his suit. As soon as he got back to White Forest he was going to spend some quality alone time with these devices, right after spending some quality alone time with Alyx.

Gordon started. Alyx was waiting for him on the ship, less than a few hundred yards away, and if that crazy A.I. thing was still alive… He burst through the door and down the hallway, dragging himself along the wall as fast as he could at a shambling half-gallop which put him worryingly in mind of a Zombine. When he reached he door to the gangway it was locked, and he gave a little groan of fear. He headed along to check the plant room, and found that the walls had been utterly stripped of the locking equipment, which lay destroyed on the floor below. Dark scorch marks and bullet holes in a pattern he had come to recognize as rapid fire decorated the room. Gordon allowed his spirits to rise slightly. Unlike the previous, somewhat half-hearted attempt to disable the locks, this bore all the hallmarks of an Alyx Vance solution. He had to be sure though; he'd have to find another way onto the ship.

As soon as Gordon left the shelter of the dry dock he knew it was a mistake. He was frightened by how frail he felt, as the cold wind he'd been so impervious to now seemed to blow right through him. The Combine structure loomed in the distance, and he made his way towards it, struggling in the snow, and remembering how fleetly he'd crossed the distance before. It seemed to take forever, but finally he was inside. The buildings had appeared deserted from the outside, but he listened cautiously for a moment before setting off. He soon saw what he'd been looking for mounted on the wall ahead, the familiar blue glow beckoning to him. Gordon had often wondered why the Combine should use the symbol of the International Red Cross instead of their own language on the aid points, but right then he couldn't care less. Clutching at the box for support, he connected his suit, and entirely failed to stifle a loud groan of relief as the nanomachines, cytokines and amino acids began surging through him. He drained the box to the dregs, watching as the display climbed before his eyes, finally stalling at around 40. Being at 40 wasn't normally great. While 90 made him think of spending time in a meeting or a crowded train surrounded by people coughing and sneezing, and that irritable feeling of knowing he was coming down with something, anything below 50 normally made him feel tired and sore, like he was moving through treacle. But right now, compared to 3, being at 40 felt like he was sitting in a hot tub with a glass of champagne. Moving much more easily, he headed on, looking for a charging station, only to round a corner and suddenly find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Barney was pale and unshaven, his hat pulled down low over his ears, but he clutched his rifle with grin determination. As his eyes met Gordon's, though, he relaxed and broke into a huge grin.

"Gordon!" He stepped forward and they grabbed each other into a rough hug. Barney had always made a great deal of the fact that he was able to lift Gordon off his feet, while his friend was unable to return the favour. They had never tried it with the HEV suit on, but Gordon wondered if Barney was going to attempt it now. "I knew I'd be seeing you again." Finally, they broke off, and Barney cocked his head towards the direction Gordon had arrived in. "I've arranged us some transportation." He headed for the exit, leaving Gordon confused in his wake, searching the corridor behind Barney with his eyes.

"Where's Alyx?"

Gordon thought Barney looked a little uncomfortable. "She went back with the others."

"But she's ok?" He caught up with Barney as they left the building.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She just couldn't stand to watch."

"Watch what?"

Barney pulled something from his pocket. "Watch this." He pressed his thumb to the object, and with a mighty roar, flames appeared and began to pull the Borealis apart. There was a louder bang, and the shockwave knocked them both to the ground. They shielded their heads and huddled together as pieces of debris began to land around them. The dry dock caught and began to collapse in on itself, crashing onto the deck of the ship and splitting it down the middle. Soon it was amazing how little was left. Barney whooped, then caught Gordon's eye and grinned apologetically.

"Yeah, we probably shoulda have stayed indoors for that." Gordon got to his feet, his mind reeling, bursting with strong emotion.

"But Alyx… she's… we… had a fight." Gordon knew as soon as he'd said it that it utterly failed to convey the gravity of the situation, and indeed, Barney looked sympathetic but also slightly amused.

"Don't worry, Gordon, she'll come around when she sees you."

"But if she knew you were going to," he gestured at the remains of the ship, "that, then… Barney, she must think I'm dead!"

A look of concern spread over Barney's honest face then, but it was soon replaced by a more positive demeanour.

"Well then, she'll come around even quicker. Now c'mon, Gordon, you'll like this." He turned and lead the way around the side of the building. With a silent gesture of frustration and disbelief, Gordon followed.

Barney was standing beside a large SnowCat, the cabin warm and inviting, the platform laden with ammunition, medkits and drums of fuel. Barney was right, he did like it.

"You drive, I'll shoot," said his friend, climbing into the passenger seat. Gordon was about to follow, but couldn't help looking back for a second. The superstructure where he'd left Alyx was now a crumpled mess of steel, and the wall of the dry dock where he'd made his portals had vanished altogether. Part of him wanted to go back, to see if they were still there, hanging suspended in nothingness, but Barney called down to him, impatient.

"Come on, we're not getting any younger." Barney looked at him sideways as he pulled himself up into the cabin. "Well, maybe you are." Gordon tried frantically to think of something to say, but Barney just chuckled. "Don't worry about it man, I know you woulda explained it by now if you coulda. Let's get moving, there's a bowl of headcrab stew back at White Forest with my name on it." Seeing Gordon's horrified expression, he continued. "It's not that bad… Same kind of texture as that bean curd stuff you get in Chinese food. Say what you like about Vortigaunts, they work wonders in the kitchen. Now drive, Gordon. Speaking of the Vortigaunts, there's some stuff I need to tell ya…"

Gordon put the snowmobile into gear, and felt himself relaxing as they moved off, enjoying the sound of his friend's voice sweeping over him as the vehicle's tracks ate up the miles between himself and Alyx, and always aware of the portal devices clinking at his back.