I'm back, baby. :)

(See the end notes for more news).

UPDATE 4/24/2020: italics fixed, and I can see reviews now. Y'all are great!

27 of December, 2025, 8:05 AM, GMT+3. Winter sunrise: green and yellow wash behind a partly cloudy sky. The scene: a train canal, ten feet deep and twenty wide, with two rusted iron tracks laid on gravel. The walls are red brick; beyond them, you can see decrepit houses and black, derelict smokestacks. There is a cheerless dusting of snow on every surface. It's 27 degrees Fahrenheit, and a little blustery.

On that day, Noah Mundy waited inside an abandoned train car.

An opening in the roof let in a bright rectangle of sunshine. Dust particles waltzed under the spotlight, stirred from their fifteen-year slumber by Noah's smoky breath. He was a twenty-three-year-old, swarthy Australian youth, with shaggy chestnut hair under a black, wooly cap. He wore only a white T-shirt, and old blue, standard-issue scrub pants from City 16C, and black tennis shoes with white stripes. Every bit of white on him was stained with dots of blood. He had in his hand a short length of rebar. It was harsh in his hand, and a little slick from others' blood. Noah himself was drenched in sweat, and his breathing was only just slowing down. He felt a battle raging between his overheating chest and the icy air.

He could hear the Combine swarming outside - some spoke normally, some through distorters.

"…Suspect is in a train car…"

"Keep the perimeter."

"We've got confirmation. Baxter is alive. But he'll be breathing from a tube for a few weeks. Dio abbi pietà…"

"Chert voz'mi, chert poberi…"

"You wanna repeat that for the class?"

"No."

"Freakin' kids from Black Mesa East…they're like fire ants. Smash the nest and they go ballistic…"

"You've got to crush each ant, one by one."

"Baxter had blunt trauma to the head. Don't get cocky; suspect is armed and dangerous."

"Thanks, Mom."

"First car - opening the door. Ready -"

Noah heard the Combine soldiers marching over the gravel - then, the metal screech of a rusted, sliding door - they had opened a train car only fifteen yards away.

"Clear."

"Now, second car…"

Noah's heart was going to break his ribs - badoom badoom badoom…

The train car door began to screech open -

I will be a Free Man, Noah thought. I will not fear…

Light poured in -

Noah swung the rebar.

KERACK!

"WHAT THE-!"

"IT'S HIM! IT'S-!"

KERACK!

"ARGH!"

BANGBANGBANGBANG-

THUDDATHUDDATHUDDA-

Silence.

There was a small camp on the train tracks, between two rusting cargo cars. Four Combine soldiers were manning the portable equipment, and standing guard over a row of three kneeling prisoners - each stripped naked, covered in bruises, and turning pale and red and blue from the cold. Parked on the rim of the pit, above them, was a black tank-like vehicle. Across from them was a service door, which had been soldered shut on its own metal frame, sealed in the surrounding concrete. A faded lambda symbol could be seen, spray-painted on some years ago - but over it, and spreading over the entire door, were a series of less-faded, blood-red stamps, which read in succession, "COMBINE | 組み合わせる | 合并 |соединять | 콤바인 | دمج | ပေါင်းစပ် ."

Two soldiers, both masked, arrived at the camp with a stripped woman in tow. She was Irish, with short, spiked auburn hair, and a hawkish nose, and a lanky, almost emaciated body. She was bleeding from one of her eyes, and her feet were turning blue, and she was limping against her bloody left leg.

She was unceremoniously shoved onto the ground near the other prisoners. "Get up," growled one of the soldiers. Unsteadily, and painfully, she managed to raise herself onto her knees, gnashing her teeth in pain.

"Hands behind your head," gargled a mask.

As she obeyed, the Irishwoman glanced to her left, eying her compatriots.

"Hey Ric-c-ck," she chattered, with as little fear as she could manage.

"Hey K-K-Katerina," replied the old, black American man next to her - he was stone bald, but with a scruffy black beard over a brick of a chin. He was fifty-five, with the strange sagginess that comes from depleted fat reserves.

Katerina glanced around. She was looking for someone, but the other two people were a woman and a Korean man - no match. "Where's Noah?"

"He m-made it through, God willing."

"G-God willing…" Katerina repeated.

"No talking," snarled a masked soldier, and Katerina received a hard rap across the head from the butt of a gun. "Jeez-!" she protested, squinting his eyes. "Quit b-b-beatin' 'round the bush! You going to kill us?" Another rap across the head. "You getton with it! Yeah?! Why not put the other end at my head, eh?! Do it, pricks! Do it!"

"Kat, don't," warned Dell wearily.

"Why shouldn't I?!"

"Just d-d-don't."

One of the other prisoners - a blond, round-faced woman - began sobbing. The third prisoner, a Korean man, began whispering to her as comfort.

One of the guards behind them said, through the gravely speaker, "You picked the wrong part of the perimeter to sneak around in. We got a new transhuman commanding officer this week; he's Gamma class, and a real lunatic." Laughter.

"Y'all lost the fifty-mile dash," said another. "Where'd you plan headin' to, eh? Where's your base?"

"Why's commander want 'em naked, you think? He looking for something?"

"Maybe he zinks it funny, ja?"

"You don't know that he's a man."

"It does not matter anymore. Take it from me, and I'm only Beta."

"I heard transhumans get rewarded by being allowed to feel horny again."

"What did I literally just say?"

Pause.

"Maybe we're gonna force 'em to walk into Ravenholm."

"They'll freeze to death before a zombie gets 'em."

"Don't be idiot. We interrogate. 'Ey might know 'bout Black Mesa East and where others' escape to."

"And if zey don't talk, ve send zem into Ravenholm. Isn't rocket science, ja Wong? Serves zem right, for making us break ze perimeter. I say, send zem in: make zem see for zemselves vhat ve protect zem from."

"The zombies were real riled up last night. You think anyone ran in there from Black Mesa East?"

"Ja; gave ze headcrabs fresh bodies, die Scheisskerle…"

"I don't even want to think about how many zombies have slipped out while we've been busy chasing these rabbits down -"

"Shut up. Commander's coming."

"Good for him; wish I could too."

"Hush!"

The commanding officer and three more soldiers arrived. Two soldiers were bearing a stretcher with the third soldier laid on it, a lot of stained wrappings around their head.

As for the officer: any clear sense of their form was erased by the bulky vests, and any sense of humanity was hidden beneath the carapace-like mask and glowing blue lenses. The officer was a horsefly, a hornet, a killer bee - but not a human. The soldiers who kept their masks off - they were human. But the ones that kept it on…something was wrong. And with this officer, their uniform a darker shade than the others - something was very wrong with them indeed.

All was quiet, except for the trudge of their boots on the gravel, and the continued sobs of the woman. One of the unmasked soldiers approached the commander, and tried to engage them in conversation, but were brushed off. The commander was flanking the row of prisoners.

Meanwhile, Katerina was looking at the stretcher. "I thought it was Noah," she said with relief. "When we find him, I'm going to k-k-kill him for making me fret like this -"

"He'll just be glad you're so fond of him after all -" Richard added.

THOOM.

It was a strange-sounding gunshot - so deep and base it shook your skull. It was followed immediately by a gross spattering, a heavy schlump on the gravel, a smoky hiss - and the crying woman was now silent. Richard was spattered with her blood.

Katerina yelped. The Korean man, even more surprised, collapsed in sheer shivering shock. Several soldiers leapt in the air, just as confused. "What the devil-?!"

The shot was fired by the commanding officer, with a black, thick, horseshoe-pronged automatic: Overwatch Standard Issue Pulse Rifle. The top barrel was still glowing a dull blue, and the point-blank plasmic "bullet" had punched a fist-sized hole into the woman's forehead, smashing the cranium like a fresh pumpkin. The bullet's heat had half-cauterized the wound, and smoke curled from the edges; a few strands of hair were beginning to catch fire.

"I trust I have your attention," said the officer. Their voice was as dark and deep as the gravel grumbling beneath their boots. They turned now to the Korean man, who had just vomited. "Get up," they said to him, kicking with their boot. But the man did not get up.

"For the love of G-G-God, man -" Richard began pleading towards the officer -.

"Commander," said one of the other guards, "Vhat are you doing-?"

"This is insane!" cried another.

"You said they were assets -!"

The commanding officer raised a fist into the air, indicating silence. Then they replied, "New intel came in while you were pursuing these prisoners. Commanders Caulk and Roderick already found a large group of the refugees from Black Mesa East: they are at a rebel outpost off of track 8, branch 2 of the railway. Commander Caulk is leading a raid on it as we speak. Which makes these prisoners useful for only one thing -"

THOOM.

The Korean man fell like a wet, torn sandbag.

"-your education."

Some shouts and swears. A young, tawny-haired guard even drew his gun, but did not dare aim it anywhere.

The officer stood motionless with their hot rifle. "What are your names?" they asked the prisoners.

Richard and Katerina stared up, angry and uncomprehending, into the horsefly's reflective eyes.

"What-are-your-names?" they repeated.

Katerina was as silent and menacing as a falcon, with her aquiline nose and bony face. Richard was sad and cold as death. Katerina would not speak but her mind raced on. Her legs and fingers and nose and breasts and toes were - oh…oh the toes hurt…they hurt so much now - Richard's old teeth were chattering and he was looking sleepy despite his resolve. But she was not going to bend to these freaks…she was going to be tall. That stupid, stupid, starry-eyed son-of-a-gun Noah…making her turn into a mother at this age…she'd strangle him in a hug when she found him…that's right, she'll find him…he's going to get it…that stupid kid and his stupid love of the Freeman…he was in conniptions after the cafeteria incident…

She still didn't believe that weirdo in the cafeteria was the Free Man. The Vortigaunts were crazy; who knows what they were babbling about? Maybe Dr. Vance encouraged it to make him a mascot…whatever. If it helps the poor kids sleep at night. That man had been a weirdo. All curled up…then again, Vortigaunts…were creeps…that kid Noah…I'm going to kill him…I love that little…little naïve…son of a…

Richard tilted his head towards the man and woman lying dead beside him. "Her name was Tracy. I think his was Wu. As for our names," Richard continued, "I think we'll take them to the grave."

The officer tossed something at Richard's blue-black knees. It was a gray-orange wooly hat. It painted the gravel a dark reddish color when it landed.

"And what was his name?" snarled the officer.

Richard and Katerina both stared, aghast. They recognized the hat immediately…Richard had lent it to Noah several days ago, while they were running through the winter cold away from Black Mesa East.

Katerina felt tears welling up and hated it. "I will murder you, you bastard."

"Mother's affection," said the officer. "Irrational hormones, vestiges of the sex impulse. You won't let it die…Yes - you are apes. You have refused to combine. You have refused to evolve. We are at an impasse; there is no reasoning with apes. There is only - demonstration."

The officer placed the top barrel against Richard's forehead. It was still hot and it stung his skin. The shorter, lower barrel hovered before his mouth. Richard had never been this close to a pulse rifle. He thought he could hear a quiet hum from the lower barrel - he knew what it fired but had never clearly seen it for himself…

"Jesus Christ -!" said the tawny-haired man.

"No, no, no…wait…" Katerina began protesting.

"Speak again, and I blow his brains out," said the officer.

Katerina bit down on her tongue. Her knees and toes were burning from the cold, and would soon become numb.

"Good," said the officer, without removing the gun. Richard was sweating in the cold; a droplet slithered around the rifle's barrel. The officer continued in a louder voice, addressing his unit:

"I have been your commander for three days. It is beyond doubt that you are disunified. I was sent here to correct that. I am a Gamma class soldier of the Combine; I have been shown things you could not even dream. I am changed, I am lifted. And there is still higher to go. But you - you lot of Alphas and Betas - you stagnate. Your will is lacking. You remain disunified. I remember being disunified. I thought it was an advantage - to be alone. To be - incommensurate… You resist combining because you are scared. And you are scared because you choose not to understand. I will make you understand.

"I had you strip these apes in order to teach you that they are apes. They are creatures of instinct; what consciousness do they have compared to us? This female thinks a boy unrelated to her is her son. It's disgusting. These apes do not deserve clothing - it hides what they really are. For, what are apes? Reproductive organisms - they are born, they reproduce, and they die. They are not individuals, as they claim; they are bubbles in a churning ocean, while we, in our unity, last forever. You, if you are loyal, shall have what I now have: immortality. Therefore, you are worth infinitely more than these mere survival machines, who will fall apart sooner or later, while your consciousness lives on, in the embrace of the Combine. You!" And the officer suddenly pointed at the tawny-haired man. "Come here."

The young man tried to holster his gun. "No, keep it out," said the officer, and the young man hesitantly complied.

"Why do you not wear your mask?" asked the officer.

"I-I-It isn't m-mandatory for Alphas, sir."

"And do you want to remain an Alpha until you die, like these apes?"

"I-I-uh…It's just stuffy, sir. I thought -"

"That does not answer my second question. Do you want to remain an Alpha?"

"I-uh…"

"Do you want to die someday?"

"N-n-no…"

"Good. Then take your gun, and kill this ape." The officer took the rifle away from Richard's head, and gestured at him dismissively.

The tawny-haired man looked ill. "S-s-sorry…?"

"You have killed before. What is the problem?"

"I…I…"

"Or have you never killed before? You let others kill for you?"

The young man was quaking.

"We all have to start somewhere. Kill this ape. Demonstrate your superiority. It will die anyway. You - if you combine - will not."

"Uh….I…urgh…"

Another soldier spoke up. "Commander, you are out of bounds -!"

"The Commander is not out of bounds," retorted a Beta. "This is a necessary lesson."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"You're an Alpha, you cannot understand. When you become Beta…"

Meanwhile, the commanding officer growled, "You have ten seconds to kill it."

"Leave the k-kid alone, you d-d-demon," Richard said darkly.

"Five seconds."

"I-I won't do it -" the tawny-haired kid declared.

"Two seconds," said the officer, raising the rifle at the kid's ill face.

KRAKANG-!

It was not a gunshot. It was the sound of metal suddenly cracking.

The spray-painted door behind the officer had, in a split second, peeled partly inwards. The soldered part held strong, but the original hinges of the door had been effectively ripped out, bending the door against the melted seam. There was now a sizeable gap between the door and its concrete frame - enough for a person to slip through.

Everyone, even the officer, was thunderstruck.

Katerina could hear from the dark, narrow gap, a mellow, baritone, man's voice: "I told you it would work."

Then a slightly hoarse woman's voice: "Sunlight! I've never been so happy to be blinded! Fresh air-!"

A head poked out of the gap, into the morning sunshine: a dirty, haggard, but grinning woman, with blackbird hair swept back by a brown band - it looked like she had been swimming recently. She had a flattish nose, and a wide mouth, and her thin eyes were squeezed seven-eighths shut against the light.

But that was enough for her to instantly recognize the shape of Combine soldiers. Her grin vanished, she swore, and drew her head back in like a hermit crab.

The Combine officer roughly shouted, "Positions! NOW!" and then, as the dozen or so soldiers, including the tawny-haired one, instinctively ducked for strategic cover, the commanding officer seized Richard and Katerina by the necks and drew them onto their long-numb feet. The officer stood behind them, as a human shield, and barked at the door, "Come out with your hands up!"

There was some faint deliberation from the gap. You could occasionally see a figure pass behind it, catching the sunlight. Finally, the woman's voice spoke up: "Alright, so, here are our demands."

"Demands…?" a soldier said.

"Put your weapons on the ground. Give the prisoners their clothes and possessions. Then kneel down, facing away from us, with your hands on your head."

"You are in no position to negotiate," the officer snarled. "Come out with -!"

The baritone man's voice suddenly interrupted them. "No, no - stop right there - you clearly do not understand. We just bent three inches of solid steel about twenty-five degrees off-level in a sixteenth of a second. Even with the rig we made, this required a separate input of some forty thousand pounds of force instantaneously. We have a weapon."

"You have one weapon. We have twelve. Come out NOW."

Silence.

The woman's voice shouted, "That was Gordon Freeman talking, just now. F.Y.I."

A murmur shivered through the soldiers. Richard and Katerina's eyes both widened.

"And that was Alyx Vance," Gordon Freeman quickly added.

"Oh, stop; I'm not that famous," the woman replied.

"Jameson," barked the officer to another masked soldier, "Grenade."

The Beta soldier obediently procured a small black device, and stepped out from their cover to throw it through the door gap. They armed it - a red light began blinking - and they gave it a careful toss -

One of the Alpha guards, though with her helmet on, said, "They really just said Gordon Freeman-?"

As the grenade arced through the air, there was a strange, screeching sound from the door gap. A flash of orange - The grenade broke its arc, and flew in a straight line, through the gap - and then, propelled by a bolt of mustard light, it was fired back, in a higher arc, into the midst of the rear line of Combine soldiers. The soldiers were slow to run - they weren't able to comprehend what had happened - until the grenade hit the ground behind their cover -

SHABOHMM!

Three soldiers were thrown like ragdolls, and the right train car was blasted a foot across the gravel.

Another orange flash from the gap - another cry of yellow light - SCREEK-shaBANG! - and a foot-wide, circular sawblade spun vertically out of the darkness. It threaded between Richard and Katerina's heads, right into the commanding officer's face. It ripped through their mask, split the helmet, clove the skull, and carved their cerebrum like butter - And, its kinetic energy spent, it tumbled behind them, clattering like a dinner plate.

The officer stood for twenty seconds, as though still alive…and then crumpled backwards onto the ground.

Shouts and screams - confusion - cries of surrender, angry challenges -

SHREEK-shaBAANG! The soldier who had thrown the grenade was hit with a metal hook that embedded into their right eye-lens and nearly ripped their head off, as they crashed onto the ground.

"Don't kill me!" shouted the tawny-haired kid. "I'm on your side!" And he began pointing his rifle at the other soldiers. "I'm on your side! I'm on your side!" A Beta soldier open-fired on him. He ducked underneath the train car, but gave a cry of pain -. An Alpha soldier fired at the Beta, but the Beta dodged and fired back and blew a hole through the Alpha's neck and jaw -

Alyx Vance screamed from the gap, shredding her voice in fury - "HOW YOU FEELING NOW?! YOU WANT MORE?!" And she accompanied it with a barrage of pistol fire. One man fell, shot through the head. Another fell, peppered through the chest and neck - a Beta opened fire with their pulse rifle at the bent door - THUDDATHUDDATHUDDA-!

Richard and Katerina ducked to the ground, struggling for cover, as the hot plasma bullets sailed overhead -

And then -

shhrrreeeeEEEEE-THOOOM.

A round, glassy thing shot from underneath a train car at 80 miles an hour.

Katrina's heart stopped. Dark Energy.

"GET DOWN!" screamed one of the soldiers.

It was too fast to see clearly. It was an orb - a hyper-elastic bowling ball - it hit the opposite train car, and with a high-pitched squeal, bounced off, without any loss of momentum - in fact, it seemed to gain in speed. It hit the ground - SCREE - a soldier's shoulder - SCREE - some Combine equi-SCREE-another trai-SCREE-a soldie-SCREE-anot-SCREE-a-SCREE-SCREE-SCREE SCREESCREESCREEKKABBAAANNNG.

It shattered in mid-air: a shower of sparkles, like dust particles in the sun.

It had hit twelve separate places. There were patches of molten metal on the train cars, slowly falling apart like milk-soaked bread. The gravel was quickly cooling from lava into igneous puddles. And the soldiers…

The ball had hit three of them. A thousand thick, white sparks had leapt from their bodies, and tumbled upwards like bubbles in the ocean; meanwhile, their limp, broken bodies were floating into the air, like buoyant corpses from a sunken ship…floating in space for three full seconds, while a white sunny light flickered around them…and then overtook them, consuming them like fire, and reducing them into another thousand sparks. Then, nothing.

There were no more Combine soldiers standing. One remained, motionless, on the stretcher. Tawny-hair was silent under the train car. The commander's brain was destroyed, and "Jameson" had a hook through their head. Three had vanished into dust, one was shot through the head, another shot through in seven places, and another whose brains were smoldering five feet away from their head.

Katrina and Richard remained on the ground, freezing to death.

Katrina glanced up, and saw two figures emerge from the bent metal door. She recognized them both - the woman, with the blackbird hair - Eli Vance's daughter, the notorious Alyx Vance, the firebrand, the scourge - my god, where is her arm? -

And then, the man from the cafeteria…the Free Man. It was him. His glasses still shone in the early morning light, his Van Dyke beard was, surprisingly, still distinguishable despite some slow growing stubble along his sharp jaw, and he was wearing orange body armor, with one thigh plate missing.

The woman held a pistol in one hand, and the man held a large, threatening gun with pincers.

"How's it look?" Gordon asked Alyx.

"Clear to me."

"That was a ball of dark energy?"

"It was. I'm surprised you recognize it."

"Just some logical deductions. They can shoot pulses of it? That's insane."

"It is. Combine Pulse Rifle secondary trigger."

"Ah."

There was a pause. Gordon said, in a much lower tone. "How long do we have?"

"Not enough to bury anybody, Gordon."

"Okay."

There were wood boxes in one of the train cars, and some old plywood destroyed by the grenade. He seized a thick splinter and pressed it against one of the molten holes until it smoked and flamed. From there he began constructing an ugly but hot campfire. Alyx, meanwhile, approached the two quivering rebels, and, with her one arm, got them back on their feet. She glanced around for their clothes. She spotted them; Gordon was about to add them to the fire.

"Gordon!"

"What? Oh, right." He handed them over.

"Y-y-y-you're Alyx-x-x and-d-d Free M-m-an…" Katerina managed through blue lips and chattering teeth. Her eye was squeezed shut against its own bleeding. Her skin was white, and her knees and toes were severely discolored - Richard was in the same shape.

"Yes, that's us. You're safe now. You're safe." Alyx was, with great difficulty, trying to dress her one-handed. Gordon left the fire and the two switched places, Alyx tending the fire and Gordon trying to wrap the freezing rebels up. He noticed Katerina's bloodied leg, and began using extra clothes (Wu's and Tracy's) to bind it up. Gray underwear, old T-shirts, old sweaters, old coats, scarves and hats. Richard looked almost drunk from cold, but he managed to redress entirely on his own, before collapsing by the fire. Alyx began struggling to keep him awake.

"D-d-don't you d-d-die on-n m-me too, Rick-k-k…" Katerina managed. She was starting to sob into Gordon, and he was worried his cold armor would hurt her more.

"I'll m-manage," Richard groaned drowsily. He began pulling absently at his clothes, trying to undress again. Alyx grabbed one of his hands to stop him. Severe hypothermia, Gordon thought, as he sat Katerina by the fire beside him.

"Gordon," Alyx said, "see if they kept any med kits around here."

"Took our supplies," Richard said. "Around somewhere…"

Gordon welcomed the excuse, and began surveying the camp. As he searched for medical supplies, he would check the various remaining bodies for signs of life. Dead…dead…the one on the stretcher was dead, too…

Alyx blew vigorously into the fire. It began to rumble and belch, vomiting a pillar of smoke into the air. "We have only a few minutes with a signal like this going up," Alyx said. "But it's more than enough time, don't worry…"

Katerina did not answer. She was staring blankly towards Wu and Tracy's corpses. In one of her hands she was clutching Noah's bloody hat. Then she began weeping again, this time into Alyx's stump shoulder. Alyx held her in a one-arm embrace, her voice soothing: "That's it. Let it out. Breathe and grieve." She looked over at Gordon, who, while rummaging through a crate, had halted and was staring at the weeping woman with a deeply furrowed brow, upturned with sympathy. Alyx mouthed to him, It's okay. No time. Gordon forced his eyes away. He glanced at the two naked corpses and shut his eyes. He continued looking…

He found a hand-held, boxy radio and a med kit on the ground near one of the trains. While picking them up his eye caught something: another body was underneath the train car. The young man with tawny hair - he was gripping a pulse rifle in his cold hand -

Gordon dragged him out. He was still breathing, and his eyes were half open. He was losing a lot of blood.

Meanwhile, over by the fire, Katerina was sobbing. "W-w-we have t-to find Noah…"

Alyx did not reply, but asked Richard, over Katerina's shoulder, "Where were you heading? This is northwest of Ravenholm, yeah? You're going to the 'lake house?'"

Richard, regaining a little strength and composure, replied, "Yes. Lake house. Mossman is there already…heard them over radio…with supplies…"

"Mossman?" Alyx's face drained at the name.

"They're under attack," Richard continued. "Two Combine squads…"

"What about Eli? Eli Vance?" Alyx asked, dumbstruck. She instinctively drew Katerina closer in an embrace, like a child. "What about Eli?" Alyx repeated.

"I…I would assume he's with Mossman…" Richard replied.

"He would be…he better be…" Alyx's face was brightening with hope. "Shh…shh…" she whispered to Katerina instinctively. Then, back to Richard, "Radio with the supplies?" He nodded.

Suddenly, Gordon returned to the fire. He set down a med kit and a small handheld radio. He had opened the med kit, and one of the syringes was missing. "Any cloth to spare?" he asked.

Richard and Alyx stared. "What for?" Richard asked.

"One of them is alive. I gave him some Vortigaunt blood, but I need to stop his bleeding. Right now."

Katerina's crying lessened, as she looked up at Gordon with bleary eyes.

"Gordon…" Alyx began.

"Give me that scarf," Gordon said, with increasing urgency. He was pointing at Richard.

"Gordon," Alyx said more firmly.

Gordon stepped over to Richard and seized the cloth from around his cold neck. Richard was too sick and dumbfounded to speak.

"Gordon!" Alyx shouted.

"What's he d-d-doing?" Katerina suddenly cried out. "You - you're saving one of them?"

Gordon had already hurried back to the tawny-haired boy: his eyes had closed, but he was still breathing. Gordon slapped him in the face to wake him - his eyes lifted slightly. He began ripping off the boy's armor and uniform to find the exact wounds. His arm was in bad shape. And a wound in the leg…several in the side. Prioritize. He tore the scarf into usable pieces accordingly, and began wrapping them -

He suddenly realized there was shouting behind him. A scuffle.

He heard Alyx give a cry of pain.

At that, Gordon swung around. He had left his weapons near the fire, except for his crowbar. He raised it to swing -

Alyx had wrestled Katerina to the ground.

"I'm gonna kill 'im!" Katerina screamed.

"STAND DOWN!" Alyx roared in her ears, face red and purple. Her nose was bleeding. It was hardly a fight - Katerina was in such bad shape and was already quaking with exhaustion.

Gordon did not know what to do -

Prioritize.

- so he returned to saving the tawny-haired boy.

So much blood…block the flow…

"Free Man!" Katerina was spitting, "Whose side you on?!"

"SHUT UP!" Alyx shouted.

"It's your fault! All of it! You crazy lunatic, all of them put their faith in you-! And where were you?! Where've you been, you -!"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP -" And Alyx punched her.

That was it for Richard. "Get off of her!" he bellowed.

Not enough bandages, Gordon was thinking.

He heard Alyx yelp again.

He turned around. Richard and Katerina were both wrestling Alyx, who was bucking them off of her like a raging bull.

Gordon, before he knew he was moving, had run forward, crowbar ready, and brought it cracking down against Katerina's shoulder, then against Richard's chest - CRACK WHAP -!

Both went down clutching at their injuries, eyes lolling.

Alyx stared up in disbelief.

Gordon's hands were shaking. He was very tired. He breathed deep. Then he turned around and stumbled back to the tawny-haired boy's body. He knelt down beside him.

The boy was no longer breathing. His pulse had stopped.

A lot of blood. He noticed some green ooze mixing with it now. V-blood traveled fast - but in vain.

"Gordon, you shouldn't have done that," Alyx said quietly. She had gotten to her feet.

He stood up and turned to face her. He looked at her bloody nose. "They shouldn't have done that," he said blankly. Then he turned to Richard and Katerina. They were groaning on the ground. He had not helped their situation.

Katerina shifted back onto her knees. "Think you b-b-broke it," she managed, clutching her shoulder.

"The boy is dead," Gordon said.

"I know! I know Noah is d-d-d-dead! B-but I d-don't have t-to-"

"No, I mean this boy over here is dead. The one trying to help us. I think he fired the pulse that ended the battle. You can add his death to the list of things that are my fault." He sat down by the young man's body, putting his hair through his fingers. "I'm Dr. Gordon Freeman. Yes, I'm crazy, and yes, it is all my fault. All of it. You do not understand what that means; if you did, you would maybe think a bit more about who to save."

Katerina, teeth chattering but eyes on fire, immediately spat back, "No! If you understood what it meant, you wouldn't have to think about it! You'd know whose side you're on already, and just what you're trying to do! We're not getting out of this by playing good Samaritan; who's side you on?! You don't have time to think about it!"

"I didn't think about trying to save him. I guess that means I'm not on your side. I'm not on anyone's side…" Gordon was becoming extremely agitated. He was about to say something else when, suddenly, Richard spoke up hoarsely, coughing deeply, but glaring at Katerina.

"You ungrateful swine…" he old man said. "We would be dead without him - without them."

Katerina held her tongue, and returned to the fire.

Richard glanced at Alyx, "Sorry for…hitting you…"

"No sweat." She wiped her bleeding nose. "Get back to the fire." And she somewhat forcibly brought him back to it. "What was your name?"

"Richard. That's K-K-Katerina. We met the Free Man at Black Mesa East."

"He taught us about science," Katerina said with sarcasm.

"I'm sure he did," Alyx replied. She was trying to check Katerina's shoulder and arm to see if anything really was broken. There didn't seem to be legitimate fractures but the skin was horribly, horribly bruised. "How long ago since you contacted the lake house? The outpost?"

"Yesterday evening," Richard said.

"And you said they're under attack?"

"We heard the soldiers here t-t-talking about it. It's likely just g-getting started."

Alyx handed Richard the radio. "Can you get ahold of them again?"

He tried.

Nothing but static.

The party was silent.

Gordon stood up. "I'll scout ahead."

Alyx replied, "What - and we stay here?"

"The Combine will be focused on taking the outpost, right? I don't think anyone will bother you. If they do, they've got you to deal with. Anyway, these two are in no condition to move into another firefight. And you can't really fire heavy weaponry right now, unless you can stay still. It makes more sense for you to hold down the fort. Meanwhile, I go and see what's happening, and hopefully get some help or supplies or something to bring back here."

Alyx breathed a sigh, and put her head in her hand. She almost looked bemused. "I wish I could argue with you, you bastard."

"So you agree?"

"Don't go taking on two squadrons alone, Gordon. Please don't."

"I will not take on two squadrons alone."

"Or more than two."

"I wasn't going to use a loophole."

Alyx stood up and approached him, smiling. They stood near the tawny-haired boy's body. With a gentle touch, she guided him away from it, while she spoke quietly to him. "You really shouldn't have hit them."

Gordon breathed an exhausted sigh, and shivered a little at her touch. "Why not?"

"News travels. People…look up to you. And anyway, it feels too much like something I would've done, when I was younger. Except with more screaming." Freeman did not reply, so Alyx continued, "Gordon, if you had to choose between saving a rebel and saving some dumb kid who joined the Combine, which would you choose?"

Gordon just stared for a few moments. His eyes were pained behind his glasses. "I never liked ethical thought experiments."

"Which, Gordon?"

"Both. I don't see why I can't save both."

"You can't save both. Not always."

"Quantumly speaking, that's incorrect. Schrodinger's cat is both alive and dead."

"Yeah, until you open the box. Then it's one or the other."

"Then I guess we won't know what I'd choose, until the universe opens my box."

"Gordon," and Alyx's tone grew somewhat severe. "Gordon, Eli is supposed to be at that camp, with Mossman."

Gordon slowly nodded.

"Promise me," Alyx breathed out, "promise me, you will make sure he's safe."

Gordon, to his embarrassment, hesitated before answering:

"I promise."

"Thank you."

And Alyx sighed again, and shook her head. Gordon leaned in and kissed it. "Which direction is the outpost?" he asked.

"Head northeast along the tracks for a few miles. Then straight north for three more miles along an alternate track. It will be a waystation on the left. It's near a lake, you'll smell it."

Gordon retrieved a pulse rifle and pistol - leaving the gravity gun behind - and set off beneath the well-risen sun.

A few minutes passed.

"Alyx Vance?" Katerina said, encouraging the fire with a piece of metal.

"Yeah?"

Katerina was about to say something else, when Richard interrupted, staring hard at her. "Don't."

"Screw you, Rick."

"What is it?" Alyx asked, not without some threat in her voice. "I want to hear it."

"Noah…" Katerina began, hesitating a little on the name, "Noah was scared of you. He heard how you broke people's noses if they talked back to you, and how you got away with it because you were Eli Vance's daughter."

"That was a long time ago."

"Heard you were really two-faced. Therapist one moment, mad dog the next."

"So, what? You're trying to get the mad dog to come out?"

"Katerina," Richard said. "For the love of - Katerina, this woman made the underground railroad possible. If she's a mad dog then that's what it takes to get it done - no offense," he added to Alyx, half-ironically. She was just staring into the fire. He continued, "Without that railroad we'd still be in City 17 planning to join Civil Protection -"

"You said you weren't going to mention that," Katerina snarled.

"You're making it hard for me to think straight-!" Richard barked back.

"That's enough," Alyx growled.

The two went silent.

"What happened to your arm?" Katerina asked brusquely.

Richard slapped his head in his hands in frustration.

"Got blown off in Ravenholm," Alyx replied.

The two rebels started at that. "Ravenholm?" Richard asked incredulously.

"If you want to know why," Alyx replied, "it's none of your business. Classified. Whatever. Ask my dad. And while you're at it, ask him why he never punished me for breaking noses." She paused. "It would've been something…"

"How did it get blown off? Your arm, I mean." Katerina asked.

"Poison from a mutant headcrab. Dr. Freeman saved my life," and Alyx looked Katerina directly in the eyes. "He saved everyone's lives. He is a hero. And if you say a ****** thing against him, I swear to ***** ******* ***** I will *********** **** ***** and force-feed it to you."

Silence.

"Jesus," Richard breathed.

"See, that's the mad dog, there," Katerina replied. "You know what? Richard's right. We do need someone like you against the Combine. Thanks for everything, Vance."

"Shut up," Alyx replied.

"You and the Free Man make quite a pair. I'm happy for you. I take it you believe everything the Vortigaunts say about him?" Katerina continued. "Makes him quite a catch."

Alyx's gaze was icy.

"I think," Richard began, "we all just need to calm down. Myself included."

Katerina suddenly stood up. She looked for a moment like she would fall over, and she was still shivering. She said to Richard, "You don't care about Noah, do you? Do you?"

"Don't question me there," Richard growled. "Sit down and -"

"He believed in the Free Man! He believed in that freak - who the hell even is he?!"

"What did I say?!" Alyx snarled.

"I'm going to find him," Katerina said bitterly, stepping away unsteadily from the fire.

"Who?" Alyx demanded.

"Noah!"

Alyx stood up to look her in the eyes. "Like hell you are."

"I'm going to bury his body. Or maybe he's still alive -"

"The Combine don't lie about who they kill."

"They could have this time."

"That's beside the point-!" But Alyx stopped herself. She breathed in deep.

Calm, calm…

Calm, as though Gordon was here.

"Katerina, I am sorry," Alyx said, forcing out sincerity. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for what I've said. The point is, you are not in any condition to go out there. You need to keep warming up. Stay here. I'll keep my mouth shut -"

Katerina began walking away. Alyx snorted a little in frustration and grabbed her hand. Katerina threw a punch but missed.

"Are we really doing this again?" Alyx groaned.

"Katerina, stop!" Richard shouted.

"No! No, no, no, no-!" Katerina was shouting back. She swung again, pathetically, and then collapsed into Alyx, who couldn't support her with just one arm, so she collapsed mostly to the ground, near the fire. Alyx stooped down to help her and Richard stumbled over to them.

Katerina was crying again.

Alyx lifted her up and held her - held her tight. She held her like she had held people sometimes in therapy…

Some tears welled up in her own eyes, as she remembered some of those days.

…

There was a sound in the distance.

Down along the railroad, in the opposite direction from where Gordon went.

Something big…

Gordon was running now. He had hit the alternate track and was heading north. He was hypersensitive to everything around him - paranoid. He saw the canal open up into flat industrial yards with chain-link fences and rusted-out trucks. Power lines strung between pylons, old office buildings, smokestacks, old roads. He thought he could see the citadel to the west, a black spike in the air - the rest of City 17 wasn't nearly high enough to be seen over the buildings and cars and hills in the way, but the citadel was a long, long cut in the sky's blue skin.

Gordon was thinking about what had happened in Ravenholm.

Specifically, what happened at the end.

Father Grigori had injected him with something hallucinogenic. He had seen, in vision, a lighthouse, a sandy camp, and a prison. The lighthouse is where Grigori wanted me to go. The camp is "Lu'Thez," or whatever he called it.

Why does he want me to go there? And why should I?

And what was that giant worm alien…?

And then, after the vision, he had…he had reappeared back in time. Events had rewound by a minute or so. And then they had "fast forwarded," to…Gordon still wasn't sure how far along into the future. Likely just a few hectic minutes.

He had not told Alyx about the vision or the time jumps. She had not mentioned seeing anything wrong with him during the jumps; he had not disappeared, but had evidently continued fighting alongside her. Though, she likely hadn't been paying close attention to him, seeing as they were being chased by all of Ravenholm.

They had fled from the chapel, down the hillside, into an old mining site. They had climbed down a shaft, into a headcrab infested cavern - then on through the mine for four or five hours, following an old blueprint they found.

It had been a long, long, long night.

…

Gordon considered the time jumps.

He had heard the G-man's voice during the second one.

"What happened?" the G-man had said - and, "His trajectory is strong for a few minutes ahead."

Yes - that was the real kernel of it all: the G-man had referred to Gordon in the third person.

That was why Gordon had not said anything to Alyx. Because he needed to keep a leg up on the G-man. He could not let the G-man know any more than Gordon wanted him to know. For, he was 90% certain the G-man could not read his thoughts - only his words and actions. Gordon thought: Three evidences for this: (1) G-man was clearly surprised when I tried to shoot him. He didn't see it coming, even though I had planned to try it an hour before; (2) at Black Mesa East, G-man pointed at my papers, and said he knew what I was planning - which implies he had figured it out from what I had written down, not what I had thought while writing it; (3) the G-man always sounds as though he is physically present in the space around me. He is never merely a voice in my head.

The puzzle pieces were falling into place. But Gordon needed more information.

In Ravenholm, he had decided to reveal his theories on the G-man. That decision was partially an experiment. Now he would see what the G-man would do. Now he would -

Movement.

Something up ahead.

It appeared from behind a car. An animal of some sort.

Gordon slowed his pace. The thing was moving - though slowly. He squinted his eyes and blocked the sun with his hand.

Ah, hello there.

It was a creature from Xen.

The Lambda team called them "bullsquids."

This one looked seven-feet - medium-sized for their species. They were chimeras: two legs of a horse, sleek hide of a leopard-spotted frog, tail of a crocodile, eyes of a whale, and a face like a cuttlefish: six finger-like tentacles, twitching around the mouth and gullet of a tapeworm. Bullsquid could break your legs with their tail, but, more importantly, they could sneeze a gallon of toxic, digestive phlegm forty yards away.

Gordon was about fifty yards away. He ducked behind a car.

After a moment or two, he peered around the front tires.

The beast was slowly lumbering across the tracks. He could see it dragging its tentacles along the gravel, as though sniffing for food. It was methodical and patient. Their shiny skin was deceptive: it was not straight oil or moisture but a protective wax coat, that kept it warm, dry and disease-free. He had discovered some plans in the Lambda offices to harvest and bottle the stuff as a kind of Vaseline.

He watched it for a minute or two, transfixed and contemplative. Gordon had killed a lot of bullsquid, and bullsquid had killed a lot of Black Mesa personnel - stuffed people's guts into its mouth like a ravenous sea anemone.

Quiet.

Gordon was thinking about the poor tawny-haired kid.

Why did I insist on saving him?

It's just what I do.

No questions asked.

In any case, he didn't feel like killing this dumb beast.

As if in response, he heard, faintly, the telltale, wet exhalation…

…and a gallon of sickly green slime spattered against the other side of the car, like a popped paint balloon.

It sizzled a little on the metal. It smelled strongly of vinegar. Oh…I remember the smell now… oh I remember the smell… it was the smell of the Black Mesa Incident. Of the whole thing. He was there again, all over again, in a moment. One waft was all it took - Black Mesa, for those few days, smelled of vinegar and iron. He was in the residue processing plant, he was hunched behind a wall, it was in the security office with the control console…

Another puff, and another gallon of slime spattered against the car - the interval was shorter. It had drawn closer. Yes, Gordon could hear it's plodding, powerful footsteps, it was coming around the corner from the security office, he had the shotgun in his hand, it was the moment to strike, everything smelled like garbage, the filthy water flowed, the sounds of bombing up above, the body of a security guard half eaten nearby…

Gordon swung around the car and fired the pulse rifle. THOOMTHOOMTHOOM-

The bullsquid was still over thirty yards away. But he hit true. Three bullets of plasma right into its head - one right down its gullet, right down its expulsion tube.

It made a sickening groan, its legs falling slack. It was still.

Gordon realized what had just happened.

He lowered the pulse rifle.

He was at the railroad again. It was cold and quiet.

"Well done, Mr. Freeman…"

Gordon spasmed in surprise and fear. The sound was far too close, far too intimate. He swung around - and there was the G-man, leaning against a clean part of the car. Hand in his pocket, other hand holding his briefcase. An unnerving smile was on his wrinkled face.

"Impeccable marksmanship, as always," the G-man said.

"I don't have time for this -" Freeman gasped, heart still pounding.

"Mr. Freeman," the G-man replied wryly, "you should know by now that we have…all the time in the world." He straightened his posture, then his tie, and wiped nonexistent dust from the part of his suit that had touched the car. "Especially now…that we have time alone -"

"Why don't you just speed up time, then? Take me right to the end of this long railroad you have me on?"

The G-man did not answer immediately. His eyes seemed to narrow slightly.

"Whatever gave you…that idea, Mr. Freeman?" he finally replied.

A pause.

Fascinating, Gordon thought.

Another moment. He needed the right response -

"What, you can stop bullets in midair but can't speed up time?"

The G-man's expression seemed to relax ever so slightly. "I would say…that is above your paygrade." He straightened his tie and moved on. "You have chosen to speak…about me to non-employees."

Very interesting, Gordon thought. But what he said aloud was: "That's against the rules?"

"Not at all," G-man replied. "I assure you: they cannot interfere. I only mention it because, on one…hand…I am impressed with your general cognizance of your situation. You are faster - than most."

"How many is 'most?'"

"Again: above your…paygrade."

"And how do I get a promotion? Sell out my planet?"

The G-man smirked. "Give it time. I take…care of my supervisees. But in any case…" and the G-man began pacing a semi-circle around Gordon's right. "I am concerned at the negative view you have taken of your employment. A lack of satisfaction…in your work? So, I thought we could have a little heart to heart."

Gordon noticed the air was even stiller than before. No breeze.

"I didn't agree," Gordon began, "to wipe out humanity."

"Right you are, Mr. Freeman." The G-man shook his head condescendingly. "You only agreed…to work for me. And, good performance means promotion…but, rest assured you must give consent to every…offer."

A pause.

"So, are you destroying the earth or not?" Gordon asked sharply.

"Does it not look destroyed already?" the G-man said. "I told you…to smell the ashes."

Gordon, unfazed, shot back, "When volcanoes erupt, the forest grows back greener."

"Precisely, Mr. Freeman," the G-man replied, almost gayly. "But it is not the same forest. Something new…emerges. You said it yourself, Mr…Freeman. Life is but a burning…indeed - a burning out. Like the stars…from nebula to star, to supergiant, to supernova…and then, either a boring, pathetic, dead dwarf, or…" The G-man drew in a deep breath. "…a black hole."

And the G-man's dark eyes glimmered for a moment…they glimmered like stars in the night sky: a million-million stars, a billion-billion planets…

Gordon thought, What really happens when a dark god "cannibalizes" their own planet? When they…consume all of their fellow creatures?

The G-man's eyes were dark and deep and void…

Gordon thought he could see great throngs within those eyes. Whole planets of twisting, churning, writhing ghosts in the dark. A googolplex of consciousnesses…were they in ecstasy, or pain…?

"When something is…consumed…" the G-man was saying, "does it not now participate in something greater? And don't you want to be a preserver? A savior of worlds…?"

Gordon stared into the G-man's eyes, and then down over his dark suit and tie, and his slacks and shoes, and then even into his hands and face and hair - and it was as though Gordon was seeing into them - into him, the G-man - as though the G-man was himself a dark, dark hole, where lay a billion-billion swallowed worlds. His suit was woven with the fibers of his past conquests, and his body was made of nothing but others' blood, others' meat, others' light. Countless multitudes were "preserved"…within him.

Gordon realized his heart was pounding.

"I'm…" he managed, with shallow breaths, "I'm not buying what you're selling -"

"Oh, but you w-"

"- you freak."

The G-man's smile fell just a tad, but he pressed on, "Mr. Freeman, I think you will reconsider." The smile returned in full. "And how I…look forward to it…"

And, it seemed, in the blink of an eye, the G-man was gone.

Gordon drew in a deep breath, to calm his heart.

The G-man had shown a bit more of his hand.

Very, very interesting, Gordon thought, almost with a smile.

Commanders Caulk and Roderick, with their squadrons, had locked down the perimeter of an old dock warehouse. It was by the railway, beside the lake coast, some miles north of Ravenholm. Roderick had arrived first, and begun a scrimmage in the rail-facing parking lot. Two rebels were killed and one Alpha was wounded - she reported seeing something large lumbering behind a delivery truck, flanking the scrimmage and making an escape. There was no way to follow-up on the report, and she passed out soon after from loss of blood.

Caulk arrived two minutes later, approaching from the dockside with two Armored Personnel Carriers on the sand. They had caught some twelve or thirteen rebels on the docks preparing sand buggies for an escape. Caulk's squadron opened fire. They took out six more rebels and tore the dock to shreds with the APCs' tank-guns. Unfortunately, the fresh corpses attracted a dozen antlions from their spawn a half mile north, forcing Caulk to retreat off the sand.

Both squadrons were irritable. This was not how they preferred to spend their day. But their normal, more straightforward duties - holding Ravenholm's perimeter - had been suspended, in lieu of the raid on Black Mesa East. Now, they were ordered to catch any refugees who had fled into their region. The Overwatch systems had calculated thirty-five to fifty such refugees had congregated in the dock warehouse. They were caught - nowhere to run. Roderick and Caulk would have already sent in manhacks to butcher them until they surrendered peacefully - if not for a rare, direct order from Wallace Breen himself:

I understand you have isolated a group of insurgents.

Intelligence has indicated Dr. Judith Mossman is within that group.

ANY HARM DONE to Dr. Judith Mossman will result in TERMINATION OF THE SQUADRON.

She is to be delivered to me ALIVE.

A transport has been dispatched to your location; ETA, 1 hour.

Good work, my personal thanks.

This order was not sent to Caulk and Roderick's helmets and transferred to their occipital lobes, as was standard. Instead, it was sent to both squadrons' Overwatch open bulletins, right onto the external screen in their portable camp, for all to see - Alphas, Betas, Deltas, Gammas, Epsilons… - This was a bypass of Caulk and Roderick's privilege as Deltas, which both commanders found perturbing. It meant even they were not trusted to communicate the information. Breen wanted to reach every level of their hierarchy equally. This, of course, dazzled the Alphas and even the Betas: Breen's own personal thanks. What treasures laid in store for them if they could get a proper hold of Mossman?

But Breen had also left them in a bafflingly precarious situation. Most of the Alphas didn't even know who Mossman was. And anyway, what intelligence was Breen talking about? Maybe he had a spy on the inside. Whatever. We've only got an hour to get ahold of Judith Mossman without accidentally hurting her. Make sure the new Gamma's squadron is updated, and then make our move.

Caulk gave an announcement to the rebels over a loudspeaker: "Surrender Dr. Judith Mossman, and your lives will be spared."

They wouldn't be, of course; but it was worth a shot.

Silence.

They could hear the buzzing and screeching of the antlions beyond the warehouse.

"Maybe if we send just one manhack in there, to scare 'em," Caulk radioed to Roderick.

"Hold on, I spot someone."

A female figure had emerged from the parking-lot entrance to the warehouse, hands over her head.

"Facial scan…Confirmed. Judith Mossman."

"Dat is relief.

"Almost disappointing. I thought they were smarter than this. What, they think we're going to handcuff 'em and take 'em to court?"

The woman suddenly spoke, voice slightly trembling. "I am Dr. Judith Mossman! I am fulfilling your demands!"

"Approach," Roderick said.

She began approaching, keeping her hands raised, weaving through the parking lot. She looked mortified, but not broken. She did not look injured in any way - which was remarkable, considering what she must have recently been through. However, there was some blood on her white turtle-neck sweater, and her slacks were torn.

Caulk made a signal, and two soldiers, crouched ready behind cars, smoothly stood up on either side of Mossman and seized her by the shoulders. She did not resist, but yelped in surprise.

Some soldiers laughed, including Roderick.

"You think Breen also meant emotional harm?" Caulk radioed, lightly.

"And how are we supposed to control that?" Roderick replied, and laughed again. "I'll contact Breen. I think we're in for some increased privileges off-rotation."

Roderick returned to the portable camp and squadron module, planted behind a semi in the back of the parking lot. It was a remarkably collapsible computer console setup, helping to stabilize their squadron's link with the Combine Overwatch net and databases. Roderick sent his request to communicate with Breen, in link with Breen's original message.

The reply came remarkably quickly, and made Roderick's heart beat rather faster - he had forgotten how unpleasant it felt to be surprised in this way - it never happened anymore during combat…the nerve-drugs kept him comfortable without losing edge. But this was not combat…

The reply was automated. Command head 07877A4BT5.785: Dr. Wallace Breen is accessing your video.

And a moment later, a small video feed of Wallace Breen appeared in the bottom right corner of Roderick's visor. He was neither smiling nor angry. He was cool business.

"Dr. Wallace Breen. I am at attention."

"At ease," Dr. Breen replied, his tone…patriarchal. "I have remote access to your visor. I can see what you are seeing on my screen here."

"I…I understand."

"Show me Dr. Judith Mossman."

"Of course."

Mossman was sitting in the front seat of a moldering pickup truck, two helmeted Alpha soldiers standing watch. Mossman was staring straight ahead through the cracked windshield.

"Very good. You have done very well, 785, and your squadron. Now, approach her, and speak exactly as I tell you to."

"Yes, sir."

Mossman glanced up at the approaching commander. She looked like a deer in headlights. She was sweaty and locks of her brown hair were falling out of the clip, hanging over her face. She was too frightened to return them.

"Repeat after me," Breen began, and Roderick, or, Command head 07877A4BT5.785, began in turn:

"Hello Judith."

Her eyes widened more.

"This is Dr. Wallace Breen. Don't mind the mouthpiece."

She slowly nodded.

"I have arranged transportation for you; it should be arriving in the next half hour, to take you to Nova Prospekt. I plan to meet you there, and we can speak in person."

"Of course…" Mossman murmured.

"I have taken the greatest care to ensure your safety in this troubling affair."

"Yes, yes, of course - the people in the warehouse -"

"We are not discussing the people in the warehouse. You know perfectly well what will happen to them; don't bother bringing it up. Scratching your itching conscience will only make it worse. Oh, come on now, 785, you're not capturing my inflexion. The words are only half of - No, no, no - don't repeat what I'm saying right now - no, wait! wait, see? Right there. Capturing my inflexion. In-flex-ion. Marvelous."

There was an awkward pause.

"My apologies, Judith. I should have contacted a Gamma. I can link into their speech centers directly…but in any case -"

"INCOMING!"

-splash!—

"Oh God-! It burns-!"

"Bullsquid! Where is it -?!"

The commotion was across the parking lot from where Mossman and Roderick were standing. Roderick abruptly turned towards the noise, and saw a gallon of green slime had splattered across the concrete onto where several Alpha soldiers were idling. One, whose helmet had been off, was now clawing at their face in agony, where the green spatters were starting to steam.

"785, what is going on-?!" Breen demanded.

"Investigating," Roderick replied, opening full radio channels. "This is Commander Roderick. All units report. Bullsquid southeast?"

"Giving Chesney medical treatment -"

"AAAAHDHGHHH!"

"Someone shut off his radio channel!"

"I've traced the trajectory. There's something here -"

"Well?"

"It's a…it's a severed bullsquid head. What the -"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone cut the head off a bullsquid…I think they…they must have triggered its expulsion nerves manually, released its last load of mucus."

"What-?"

"That's disgusting."

"Who did it? Where is this person?"

"Investigating -"

"Hey, you there!"

"There's a figure!"

"Positions!"

"Stand down!"

"785, what is happening?!" Breen's voice was guttural with impatience. His brows were knitted together in alarm and frustration.

"Someone is attacking us, sir. We're handling it."

But Breen did not wait for them to handle it. He needed to see.

As Roderick spoke, every other member in Roderick's squadron received a brief notice in their visor that Dr. Wallace Breen was accessing their external video.

Dr. Breen was in his office, at the pinnacle of the Citadel.

He sat in a black leather cushioned revolving chair, behind a finely carved mahogany desk. It was adorned with a small, brown, antique globe, and an analog clock, ticking away. A black metal cane leaned against the desk's side.

He was gazing up at a complex of Combine monitors. His aged but active eyes narrowed and his eyebrows daggered down, as he manipulated the images remotely with the merest waive of his hand. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh - and suddenly one video feed multiplied into twelve, across the several monitors.

Breen leaned forward, eyes flickering between them all, as he rested against his woven fists.

On either side of the monitors were thick transparent windows. It was mostly clear. You could see the faintest curve of the horizon. The whole city was sprawled out like a glimmering carpet beneath it, and nothing but a gray quilt of industry and blasted nature beyond.

Breen waived a hand in a particular motion, and the transparent glass turned opaque as iron. Now room was pitch black, except for the monitors, which lit up Breen's weathered, kingly, commanding face.

Nothing but jostling video feeds. Nothing of interest.

No, there. A figure running in the distance, ducking behind a sixteen-wheeler. The squadron was closing in on it, flanking -

Gunshots. One of the feeds lost connection.

"Grenade!"

KABANG.

Another feed lost connection.

THUDDATHUDDATHUDDATHUDDA

KABANG, KABANG-

THUDDATHUDDATHUDDA-

The video feeds were too wild, too jostling - Breen felt slightly motion sick but refused to turn his severe eyes away.

Suddenly, one of the soldier's managed to catch up to the culprit - they rounded a car in the parking lot, gun ready to shoot them -

The figure swiveled to face the camera.

Lambda logo. Orange and grey. Thick glasses, and that beard -

Gordon Freeman.

And the split-second Breen recognized him was the very second Freeman finished swinging a crowbar at the soldier's helmet -

- KA-CRACK-!

Connection lost.

Breen did not move a muscle.

More gunshots. Grenade explosions - panic -

He saw rebels swarming out into the parking lot to exploit the chaos. It was a full-scale battle now. Freeman had given them the advantage they needed.

THUDATHUDATHUDATHUDA

BANG BANG

KA-BANG-

Connection lost.

Connection lost.

Connection lost.

One by one, the screens flickered to black. The shadows grew around Breen's face.

Then, there was a strange bellowing noise, and a shrieking warcry.

A giant, mechanical gorilla, with a one-armed woman riding precariously yet triumphantly on its back, rushed into the fray, kicking up an entire car with its arm.

It was the "dog," that had caused so much trouble when trying to extract Eli.

Breen had been told it was taken care of. He was apparently misled.

The final feed went black.

Breen sat back in his chair, in the darkness.

He was silent for a long time.

Finally…

"How in the hell," he murmured, "are his glasses still intact?"

Gordon was on the ground resting, in the parking lot. One of his armored arms was still covered in the juices of the bullsquid's head. His chest plates had barely managed to deflect a shotgun spray, and several pulse bullets. It hurt to twist his waist and he feared something might be broken. But he was very much alive, and they had won - for now.

Alyx, meanwhile, sat triumphantly on the metal hunchback of Dog, towering over Freeman.

"Huh," Gordon said, adjusting his glasses. Somehow, Dog looked different than before.

"He's a good boy!" Alyx declared, grinning, and stroking one of the thin metal petals of Dog's cycloptic eye. The beast quivered a little and made odd noises Freeman interpreted as happiness. "He came and found me!" Alyx continued. "I don't know how but he did! Oh yes, he did! Who's a good boy? Who's always there for me?"

"He looks a bit different," Gordon said. "Is his shoulder a car door now?"

"Yeah, half a car door. It used to be an airplane propeller. I think he must have gotten really damaged defending Dad - but you protected Daddy, didn't you? And Daddy fixed you up! He fixed you up really - well, as good as he could. Didn't he? Oh, you are such a good boy!" And she embraced Dog's back like she was a little girl with her Great Dane. Dog crooned back. "I mean," Alyx continued, smiling, "Dog was still pretty worse for wear when he found me…missing bolts, missing hand, bad left leg…it took me so long because I had to jury-rig him some replacements. Otherwise he couldn't have carried all of us."

She thumbed over her shoulder. Gordon peered around Dog and saw Katerina and Richard entering the parking lot. Gordon figured Alyx had dropped them off a safe distance from the battle before rushing in herself. The two poor rebels, exhausted, both laid down side by side in the bed of a pickup truck.

Gordon looked back at Dog - yes, he was worse for wear alright. One of his eye petals was sharply bent, most of his parts were stained with dark fluids, and he seemed even more asymmetrical than before. One of his hind legs was starting to quiver under his own weight. "The limbs don't matter though," Alyx was saying. "What matters is what's inside," and she tapped with her hand on Dog's hunchback - where the brain and spine of the Great Dane lived on.

"You said," Gordon began, "that Eli fixed him?"

"I mean, it must have been. No one else could…like, they could probably fix the limbs but not the shoulder - because someone replaced the connectors to his brain. I saw for myself. That's too complicated - only Dad would know how to do that."

Gordon watched her face carefully. She's afraid she's wrong, he thought.

Only half the Combine soldiers had been killed: the rest had retreated against the rebel soldiers who had guns. The other rebels were cautiously making their way through the parking lot towards Dog and Alyx. Gordon was out of sight.

"The leg is quaking," Gordon said.

"What was that?"

"I said, Dog's leg looks unstable-"

Snap.

The quivering leg finally gave at the knee. Dog collapsed sideways, much to his own surprise, while Alyx, unable to catch herself properly, tumbled off his back. Gordon tried instantly to jump up and catch her, but a sear of pain through his abdomen almost made him collapse himself. Alyx, in any case, landed relatively well on the hood of a car, and rolled off onto her feet. She was laughing. Dog simply looked confused, as he sat lopsided on the ground, holding himself up by his right arm. "Ah, poor boy," Alyx said. "We've got to get you some real repairs…um, Gordon?"

"Glad you're alright," he said.

"Thanks, but you alright?"

"I've had worse." He braced himself against the car hood Alyx had landed on, and smiled.

From behind him came an older, gravely, woman's voice.

"Guð minn," she said."Hún var að segja sannleikann."

"Oh, hello," Alyx said. "Who was telling the truth? Oh, sorry, I mean, Halló; hver var…uh…að sannleikann, eh, segja?"

The woman did not answer. Meanwhile, an older gentleman came to stand beside her, grasping her hand affectionately. A number of others gathered behind him. "Það eru þær!" the man exclaimed. "Rétt eins og hún sagði ..."

"Um, okay," Alyx hesitated, still trying to smile. "Hvar er Eli Vance? Eli Vance?"

The older couple gave her an odd look. The woman said, "Eli Vance er ekki hér. Hann var tekinn til fanga. Fröken Mossman getur sagt þér frá því."

Gordon understood two words: Eli Vance and Mossman. And, as he watched Alyx's expression fall, like a dying flower, he could guess what the woman had said. Eli Vance isn't here. Only Mossman is here.

Alyx, however, began to enter denial. "Eg meina Eli Vance, uppreisnar…um…**** Icelandic, I can't remember any words…******…Ég meina Eli Vance, minn faðir...?"

The woman shook her head. "Þú ættir að tala við fröken Mossman -"

And as she finished saying the name, suddenly, from the gathering crowd, emerged Dr. Judith Mossman. Disheveled, pale, a bit wild eyed, disingenuously smiling, and a few flecks of blood on her turtleneck.

"Alyx! Dr. Freeman!" she exclaimed. "My god, oh, I'm so relieved…"

"Where's Eli?" Alyx asked immediately.

Gordon looked between the two of them. He felt his body tense, as if for battle.

"Oh, Alyx," Mossman began, smile instantly turning to concern. "He was…he was captured during the raid…on Black Mesa East…"

"Then why weren't you captured as well?" Alyx, up to this point, had been standing half-obscured by Dog. Now she walked behind him and emerged, on the other side. The loss of her arm was now clearly visible. There was a ripple of surprise in the small crowd, and Mossman looked even paler. "Oh god, Alyx…" she said.

"What happened? Why aren't you with Dad?"

"Alyx, I…"

"Did you run?" Alyx asked, nostrils flaring. She was beginning to quiver, and the intensity with which she clenched her fist was flexing every vein in her remaining arm.

Freeman stood upright on his feet, his reflexes primed. Alyx, calm down…

"…what?" Mossman said, actually looking a little irritated at the question.

"Did you run?" Alyx repeated.

"I…we…we were both running!"

"Did you hide under a desk while they took him? While they blasted Dog to pieces and took him away?"

"Alyx, dear, you're…I see you are very upset…but you're imagining - Alyx, I sent Dog to look for you! I…uh…I received intelligence that…uh…"

"Did he tell you how to fix Dog?" Alyx burst in. "Did he tell you all about Dog, all about me and him building Dog? That's all we had for years - that's all I had of him, just me and him - and he just told you, didn't he? He just spilled it to you? Fine! FINE! Then why didn't you stay with him?!" Alyx snarled.

"…Alyx," Dr. Mossman began; she looked both indignant and afraid. She spoke with a faltering authority. "Alyx, dear, you know perfectly well that -"

"You're not my MOTHER! If you were my mother you wouldn't be here - you'd be getting your brains sucked out at Nova Prospekt with HIM!" Tears were streaming from Alyx's eyes, and she was red with rage. She was uncontrollable now. The feelings were too deep, too long repressed, too far along in their eruption to the surface - "He's dead, he's DEAD and IT's YOUR FAULT!"

Mossman, quivering, terrified, yet somehow defiant, screeched back, "How dare you -!"

Alyx released an awful yell, and leapt towards Mossman, who recoiled in terror. Like a scorpion, Alyx struck out with her one fist, slamming it into Mossman's jaw. Mossman crashed back onto the pavement, almost cracking her head open. The crowd, equally terrified, stumbled backwards, as if from another Combine soldier.

Dog made a strange, baleful noise. Mossman held her hands up in pathetic self-defense, as Alyx stood over her, huffing like a mad bull -

Gordon Freeman threw his arms around Alyx's neck and tried to pull her away from Mossman. Alyx began bucking and kicking wildly, shouting obscenities. And suddenly, with a whiplash of her head, she cracked the back of her skull against Gordon's mouth. He let go of her, clutching at the terrible, terrible stab of pain. Alyx spun around and, like a shark relaxing from blood frenzy, realized who she had just hit. Gordon spat blood over his hands, and a chunk of his front tooth hit the ground.

Alyx put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, still red from tears. "Gordon…"

He didn't answer, but just put a bloody hand up to indicate silence.

Richard and Katerina were sitting up in the trunk bed, watching.

Just then, a coal-black woman with a beanie and a machine gun suddenly appeared on top of a nearby car. "What's going on 'ere?" she barked. "Y'all seen Miss Vance afore! And her Dog! You can thank 'er after! Start gettin' the wounded, already, ya geezers - what're ya doin'-?!"

No, I'd rather not, Gordon thought. He began walking away from the scene.

He faintly heard, "Hey! Who're you?! Git back 'ere-!"

"That's Gordon Freeman! Let him be!"

"That's who-?!"

"The Free Man!"

"Help Mossman!" "She punched Mossman!" "She's Vance, she's mad!" "Is that really Freeman?" "Why's…bleeding?" "Some…medic-!" "Leave him…! Leave…"

Gordon considered firing the pulse rifle in the air, but thought better of it. Instead he stopped listening, as he wandered past Dog, out between the cars. He listened to more gunfire in the distance. He had a vague idea that he should help. But he also knew he was bleeding a lot, and had nothing really to stop the blood. Maybe I'll just pass out and I can skip forward on all this, he thought vaguely. He felt incredibly disgusted with everything, all of a sudden, and wasn't sure how to deal with that. He was also hungry. He had eaten in the mines - Alyx had apparently snagged some food from Grigori's chapel before they left. It must have been something that happened on the G-man's fast-forward. It had been cold soup. They'd taken turns drinking it from a knife hole stabbed into the cans. Then he'd managed to cut a hole that they could carefully scrape the vegetables out. All still fresh, after all these years. Stuff had been good.

A voice woke him up.

"That's a lot of blood there, doctor."

Gordon looked up blankly. He had somehow wandered right up to the pickup truck where Katerina and Richard were still sitting, staring at him like he were a wild bear roaming in their yard. It was Richard who had spoken; he was already holding out a fistful of fresh, white gauze. He had open on his lap a small metal case tightly packed with first aid. It looked of Combine manufacture.

Gordon spat some of the blood on the ground, and took the gauze gratefully.

Richard patted on the truck bed between himself and Katerina. Gordon quietly took his seat.

"If he snaps and tries to kill us," Katerina said, "I'm not hanging around to save you."

"Don't pay her any mind, doctor," Richard said, as he fished for tools in the case. "I have some painkillers here." He raised up a tiny syringe. "Believe it or not, my daughter was studying to be a dentist before all of this. So I know a few things, at least. May I?"

Gordon slowly nodded.

"Alright. Open wide, then."

While Richard peered around in his mouth, using the sunlight to see, Gordon watched as Alyx, the black woman, and Mossman seemed to be in a heated "discussion." Alyx was, in fact, the quietest looking of the three. She looked shaken - even a little crazy. Mossman was trembling, arms folded, standing near to the black woman as if for protection. A large scrap of cloth was stuffed up her nose. And the black lady was loud, and Gordon could overhear the peaks of her exclamations: "…Vance innit 'ere! My outpost, my rules…still in battle…they'll be back…Ya mean there's a dropship comin' thisway? How soon?...Shuddup! I'm talkin'! - I said Daddy ain't 'here! …I'm 'fraid you'll pop off Mossy here, Alyx! That's why…"

Alyx glanced over her shoulder and caught Gordon's eye. But she quickly stopped looking, and grasped at her scalp again.

Gordon felt hollow.

Within a minute, Richard concluded they had best remove the tooth completely. The others he thought he could seal with some other tool in the case. Gordon nodded his assent. Another small dose of painkiller, a pair of pliers, and Katerina helping to hold Gordon still - a pull, a nasty, throaty bellow - and more blood had to be quickly clotted. Some Vortigaunt blood and some gauze, and Gordon was on to recovery.

"Modern medicine," Richard said jokingly. "We'll let that close up and then seal the other damage. You'll have a weird smile from now on, but something tells me that will rarely be a problem."

Gordon didn't answer. He had seen Alyx look over her shoulder again when she heard Gordon groan. In fact, all three people in the conversation looked over and stopped for a moment.

Gordon gestured over towards Alyx and the conversation.

Katerina answered. "The lady she's talking with runs the outpost: name's MacArthur. That's all I know. She's probably trying to get Alyx to hand over her weapons. Y'know, so she doesn't kill anybody."

"She's a fool if she thinks so," Richard said immediately. "Combine never retreat without a plan to return. We'd be best to let Vance alone, to help us."

Gordon watched as Alyx, very reluctantly, reached into her backpack and retrieved the data disk, which held the information they took from Dr. Mungo.

She handed it to Dr. Mossman, who then left the discussion and began walking, with a limp, back to the warehouse.

There then seemed to be a disagreement about Alyx giving the black commander the gravity gun.

"Wha…" Gordon began, trying to enunciate clearly with gauze in his mouth, "Wha…duh yuh knuh aboht Alux?"

"About Alyx?" Richard clarified. Gordon nodded.

Katerina raised her hand. "Am I allowed to talk?"

"No." And Richard took a deep sigh. "I don't know her personally, of course. Are you asking for rumors? Because they may not be true."

Gordon made no response.

Richard shrugged his shoulders. He gestured for Gordon to open wide again, and he began applying some kind of paste to Gordon's teeth with his index fingernail. While he worked, he talked. "She's a troubled girl. Grew up fighting - and grew up under the Citadel. Let me tell you, the Citadel does things to the young ones. Messes with them. It was set up when they were going through puberty. It's not immediately obvious, mind you, what is wrong. But I'm telling you something is wrong with those poor kids.

"And Alyx - she's the daughter of the guy who singlehandedly started up this whole movement! She's with him every step, running from the Combine, making sacrifices…she's always been there. But I think…I don't know. People say she killed a Combine soldier when she was eleven years old. I don't know about that. But she was definitely killing when she was fifteen. Protecting people, stealing things, sabotage…she really helped start the rebellion. Laid the foundations for people to start thinking, 'I can do this, I can revolt. I don't have to take this anymore.'

"When she was eighteen is when she started building the underground railroad. That was a bloody mess…but she built it. She built it up and built it well…worked on that thing for four years. Got a lot of people out of City 17 - and laid the model for other railroads in other cities. Did a lot of other work too, around the whole area. But, you know, a lot of people don't know what to think of her. She's a dragon when she's angry; that's what everyone's heard. There's jokes out there about that time she tried to be a therapist - god, what a nightmare that must have been…"

"Rumors," Katerina interrupted, "that she's killed some of our own. Eli swept it under the rug. Lot of people very angry about that possibility."

Richard sighed again. "Rumors."

"I'm suspecting," Katerina continued, "that MacArthur is going to take advantage of Eli's…absence…to try to put a rein on Alyx."

"All done there," Richard said. "Should be serviceable. Careful not to eat anything too hard."

"Dank you."

"Welcome, Dr. Freeman. It is the least I can do."

Gordon was silent for a few moments.

He saw that Alyx was alone now. She still had the gravity gun. MacArthur had left and was corralling other rebels. Alyx had sat down on the ground next to Dog, who was now resting on eye level to her. She was stroking his broken petal.

Gordon turned to Katerina. "I'm going to go find Noah. Want to come?"

Both Richard and Katerina were dumbstruck.

"I'm going to find Noah. To confirm if he's dead. You can confirm the body is his."

"I…uh…" Katerina was unsure what to say.

Gordon again: "I'm sorry I hit you both with a crowbar."

"…yeah, okay. Apology accepted." Katerina was starting to smile, bemused. "Sorry I wanted to murder you."

"I'm used to it."

Katerina laughed. "Eh, you're growing on me. I'll give you that, Freeman."

Gordon, still perfectly serious, "So, will you come with me to find Noah?"

Katerina's smile faded. She looked at Richard. Richard sighed, yet again, and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not going to stop you," he said.

Katerina was silent.

Gordon watched her with barely blinking eyes. It was unnerving.

"I'm…I'm grateful…" Katerina began. "But, no. I understand it now. The Combine…burn the bodies when they can. We wouldn't recognize him, unless we were lucky. And if he's alive…he'll find his way. I know…I'm not in a condition to…" She looked at the ground. "Don't make me hopeful, Dr. Freeman. That's your problem, you know. You give me hope, and its agony. Why won't you let me lose faith in people? In the world? It would be so much easier!" She looked back up at Freeman, whose expression had not changed. "Look at you…there isn't a bit of guile in you. You're so…straightforward. You're a freaking weirdo, don't get me wrong. But I can just tell you're…like, if none of this happened, you'd have just gone on with life, never hurting a fly, unnoticed, doing your experiments, being honest…And now you're…you're what Fate's given us as our beacon. Someone who has to be forbidden from burying the dead, because otherwise you'll do it. You bury the dead even if you're being shot at. You save a Combine soldier you were just fighting. You just…I don't understand it. I don't understand it."

She shook her head, and closed her eyes, and looked down again.

"I don't really understand it either," Gordon replied.

"You see?!" Katerina suddenly exclaimed, jerking up again. "That's exactly the thing I'm talking about! Who responds like that? You're supposed to say, I dunno - but something not like that…"

"So that's a 'no'?"

"A 'no' to what?"

"A 'no' to finding Noah."

"We're going to need you here, you moron," Katerina snapped back at him. "We need you here. The Combine are coming back soon and we need you to do - what you do! Then, if you're really hellbent on finding that stupid k-k-kid…we'll find him. Alright?"

"…Alright."

"Good."

The three of them sat there for a minute.

Gordon stood up. "Thank you, Richard. Take care, Katerina."

"God speed, Free Man," Katerina said.

"God speed," Richard repeated.

Gordon Freeman walked back over to Alyx Vance and Dog.

She didn't move, but he thought he saw her flinch a little at his approach.

"It's alright," he said. "It's fixed up. No sweat."

Alyx nodded.

Gordon sat down next to her.

"Wish I could take this suit off," he said, "but I keep hearing more Combine will be here soon. Otherwise I'd give you a big hug."

Alyx choked on a sob, and leaned into Gordon's neck. He did his best to embrace her.

"I promised myself," she said, breathing deeply, "that I wouldn't hurt you…I really wanted to start over…"

"Alyx…"

"I know I'm a hypocrite…I shouldn't have lost it with Mossman…but I just…oh g-god D-dad he c-can't b g-gone he c-can't…"

"Shh…shh…"

"I'm so s-sorry Gordon. I'm so sorry."

"It was a complete accident, you know."

"That's not…it's not the point. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"Alyx, you don't have to bribe me to stay…" But she didn't answer.

They sat like that for a bit. Gordon looked into Dog's cycloptic eye. Dog leaned down and prodded Alyx with one of the petals. She looked back over at him and chuckled. "It's okay Dog. It's alright."

She sat up straighter. "I gave the disk to Mossman."

"I saw."

"I told them we'd gone through Ravenholm on Eli's orders. I only said we found an old Combine database there, so that machine-gun-Jill wouldn't keep badgering me. Mossman didn't seem surprised - obviously she knows what's up. Eli really did tell her everything."

Gordon took a deep breath. His eyes got that determined look that so many people found unnerving. "Do you trust her?"

"Of course not. I only gave it to her because McCarthy, or whatever her name was, wanted me to. I wasn't in a position to say no without causing more trouble."

"Do you think Mossman will hide anything on the data from us? Or, if she does, will she relent when we give her the full story?"

"It doesn't really matter. When I first downloaded it, I made two copies."

Gordon blinked.

Alyx's wide mouth slid into a grin.

"You didn't tell me that," Gordon said.

"That's because you don't strike me as a very good liar."

"Then why tell me now?"

"Because I can tell, you were going to jump up and go fetch it back at gunpoint."

Gordon blinked again. "Not at gunpoint."

"Hmm."

"Did you find out who fixed Dog?"

"Wasn't Mossman, believe it or not. It was some guy named Dell Conagher. He's back in the warehouse working with the two Vortigaunts posted here. I'm going to have to meet with him, after we're through this storm."

"And then we find a way to analyze the data ourselves?"

"We'll see what Mossman has to say. And then we can compare with what I find later. Then we'll know what she hid and can figure out why. Two birds, one stone."

"Well done."

"Thank you."

"And then we'll use the data to get your Dad out of Nova Prospekt."

"I'm not…yes. But I'm not thinking about that now. It's best I…don't."

Gordon nodded. "We also need to get you a prosthetic arm."

"Maybe this Dell guy can make one. Sounds like a super genius, someone you'd get along with."

"Maybe he can make me a prosthetic tooth."

"That's what Richard was doing?"

Gordon simply gave her a toothy smile. His top right incisor was gone. He suddenly regretted showing it, as Alyx looked incredibly sad again.

"Naw, its fine," he offered. "I look like a jack-o-lantern now. I'll scare my enemies even more."

Alyx's face lightened a bit. "What's a jackal lantern?"

"Oh, right. Well, you take a pumpkin - which is a kind of gourd, like, a big vegetable plant - so you take it, and you cut it open, and you have to…to…"

Gordon stopped, because he realized Alyx had slowly inched her face closer to his, until their noses were almost touching.

"Go on," she said, smiling.

Gordon, however, simply closed the gap. He was tired of talking anyway.

Hello! It's been a while! But I got this up on the one year anniversary of the last chapter upload! I thought that was fitting.

Obviously, as is often the case with fanfiction, it is not my day job. And I've been working on some other projects unrelated to fiction writing - and the simple fact of the matter is I felt those should take priority for the time being. So many times when I've thought about writing fanfiction, I've consciously decided to spend my time on the other project instead. But, because of the restrictions due to coronavirus, I have had plenty of time to work on both. That project is a book associated with my YouTube channel, "Michael Pierce," where I talk about Jungian personality theory and philosophy. When the book is finally done I'll be posting a video there. (It's the channel with the orange-colored icon, which if you look closely is actually a closeup of an autumn leaf).

I am always deeply grateful for the reviews and comments. Thank you so much for your encouragement and kind words. It really means a lot to me - I feast upon feedback. I love to know what people like, what was effective, what wasn't, etc.

To address a few questions from people:

Will I incorporate any lore from Half-Life: Alyx? - Maybe, but only what doesn't contradict the story I'm already telling. I'm sure a lot of the lore I've created within my own "retelling" will be thrown out the window when the teased Half-Life 3 comes out, but that doesn't really bother me. My plan is to do "The Remarkable Schrodinger Man" as all of Half-Life 2, and have it be possible for it to stand, thematically, on its own. I then have faint and still changeable ideas of the sequel following the narrative of the episodes but having a different canon character going through what Gordon goes through in the games. And I have an even foggier notion of calling it "Archipelago in a Dirac Sea." But we'll see.

What's with the asterisks censoring swears? - Up until the second chapter set in Ravenholm, I simply didn't use swears. Personal choice. But I also wanted to develop Alyx as a more flawed and layered character than we get in the games. And I wanted her layers to be a foil to Gordon. So, while Gordon gets silent and internalizes things, Alyx gets loud and angry and externalizes them. In either case, their extremely moral, human half is struggling to reconcile with their amoral, scared and defensive animal half. Which is one of the themes I've been playing with in the background. Swearing, in fact, is neurologically linked more to the instinctual desire to yell or scream, than it is to our proper language centers. Which is why it can be hard to control. So it's a good symbol of Alyx's animal nature, which on the one hand allows her to help the rebellion, but on the other hand is dangerous and alienates her from other humans.

Anyway, I obviously didn't want to say whatever Alyx is saying - and frankly, part of the point is that I don't even know what Alyx is saying most of the time. By censoring it, I can leave it to the reader's imagination to come up with the most vulgar and intimidating phrases. So, I'm not actually writing out the swears and then censoring it later; I'm writing the asterisks in, and sometimes intentionally making the word count impossible to link up with any conventional phrase or word. The point is less what she says and more on the fact THAT she says such things when she's angry and aggressive. So that's the rationale there. Just as Gordon's relationship with Alyx helps him to come to terms with who he is and with his flaws, Alyx's relationship with Gordon does the same for her. So that's another one of the central themes of the novel.

So, is this really a crossover? - The only reason I haven't officially designated it as a crossover is because, so far, the crossover elements are rather limited, and I don't want to falsely advertise. And I don't intend for the crossover elements to be the central focus of the story. It is principally a Half-Life 2 retelling. But the worlds of Portal and Half-Life are explicitly in the same universe already, so I almost can't help but cross those two worlds over. And, as some of you surely noticed, there is mention in this chapter of "Dell Conagher," which is the canon name of TF2's Engineer. Because you know what? I've set up a world where people of different nationalities are all stuck together in a post-apocalyptic wonderland! And that sounds like a recipe for a realistic take on the Team Fortress cast. So, yeah, that's going to be hinted at, but I don't think I will do more than hint. They are by nature a goofier set of characters and I feel they would distract from the central story if overused. But don't be surprised if a few TF2 characters show up for side roles. ;)

When will the next chapter come out? - ...that's above your...pay grade, Mr. Freeman. But...all good things come to...those who wait.

Cheers!