#[[Last Night's Aftermath]] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shmorp-mcdurgen · 1 year ago

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Aftermath: Yellow Eyes

Gordon has trouble sleeping, even months after waking up in the hospital after the Black Mesa incident. Worse yet are the things he's been seeing since then.

CW: Drug mentions

Notes: A little over 2000 words, and another short Aftermath story, as a treat

Dyson Spheres.

Incredible, unfathomable structures built to harvest the energy of the stars; large rings of an intelligent being’s design, orbiting the star it imprisons. The rings each hold enough energy to power entire civilizations, those very civilizations being made up of things man currently doesn’t know, or will very well never understand. What remains out in the distant reaches of the universe remains a mystery, one that humanity may never even come close to grasping within its feeble minds and sense of what is reality. What even is reality? Is it something set in stone, the very pieces of it being placed together like a cosmic, fractured puzzle, with the full picture slowly being revealed? Is it something that fluctuates like the waves of the great seas, something that humanity can get so close to understanding, yet every time it goes the right path, the road ahead becomes twisted and deformed like tangled ropes, with humans having to begin the process of entanglement anew.

The Dyson sphere appears so simple to the mind, the concept feeling like the natural next step in power production, yet at the very same time it feels so grandiose and impossible for it to be fully understood. What happens when something far greater than humanity has already found out the very concept of what reality is, bending it to its will and making the improbable and incomprehensible perfectly understandable to their greater minds? Would humanity fall to the greater power? Will they adapt to the new understanding of the universe, or will they perish like a rabbit ensnared in a hunters trap, doomed to thrash and attempt to free itself, only to realize it doesn’t have the strength nor the understanding to ever truly be free? Perhaps if we look at the stars long enough, they’ll finally meet our gaze; only then will we learn if our eyes will see the splendor of the cosmos or if they’ll burn like everything else.

Gordon stared at the messy drawings in his journal, depicting Dyson spheres and alien planets, ones that he could only imagine being out there, somewhere, in the infinity of space. His eyes stung from the cold air around him, with it being hard to remember if he’s even blinked once within the last few minutes. His glasses had slid down his nose, nearly falling off before he pushed them up with one of his thin, calloused and scarred hands. He was unsure of what time it was, or even how long he'd been awake, though the exhaustion creeping up on him, along with the headache he felt reverberating in his skull, were enough to deter him from wasting more time thinking too hard about too many things at once. He carefully shut the journal, shoving it into one of the drawers in the desk before standing up. His right shin ached, sending a sharp pain up his leg as soon as he placed his weight on it. He brushed the pain off, reaching for the wooden cane that was leaning against the side of the desk’s top.

When Gordon left the office, he glanced down the hallway he stood in, seeing the light from the lamp placed in the living room pouring through, barely reflecting off of his green eyes before he turned around, opening one of the doors of the hallway. He flicked on the bathroom light, being greeted to the mirror above the sink, with the sight of who was staring back at him from it making him let out a soft sigh. He first noticed how disheveled he looked; His hair was uncut and unclean, pulled back into a lazily done ponytail, and his beard was no longer a clean-cut goatee, but instead a messy, stubbly mess. He was still wearing the hand-me-down green sweater Eli had gifted him right when he got out of the hospital a couple months prior; God, had it already been that long? Despite the sheer mess his appearance was, his eyes were the worst part. They appeared darkened by the shadow under his brows, the bags under them telling how little sleep he’s gotten for him. The once bright, hopeful look in his eyes was now a hollow, dark glare. He examined the face of the man who he was surprised, yet disappointed, survived things that have made full armies fall, all before he shook off the feeling and opened the mirror, revealing the medicine cabinet behind it.

He pushed empty pill bottles to the side before grabbing a semi-transparent orange bottle with a white cap, one that had his name on it. He opened it, taking out the last two pills before swallowing them, all before slamming the bottle on the countertop beside the sink and closing the mirror. He looked down, not making eye contact with himself as he turned away, back into the dark hallway as the bathroom light was shut off behind him. When he limped into the living room, only barely using his cane to support his weight, he heard rustling coming from the kitchen nearby. He stared into the dark room, catching short glimpses of a green light coming from inside before he approached, flicking on the light to see if he could see what was there. He walked around one of the kitchen’s counters, hearing the rustling getting louder before he finally saw the culprit; A small bug-like creature biting and clawing at a pack of off-brand cookies. Gordon sighed, realizing it was nothing but his pet Snark, or Stanley as he called him. Gordon placed his cane against the wall, letting out his breath as he crouched down, his right leg nearly giving out as he did so, to pick up the dull red and black shell of the oversized bug, causing it to let out high-pitched squeaks as it was held up. Gordon stared at its one, giant glowing green eye before he held it against his chest with one hand, using the other to pick up the torn packaging of the plastic cookie container; no wonder the vet said that Stanley was slightly overweight.

Gordon tossed the container into the trashcan as he left the room, flicking the light off as he limped towards the living room couch and the lamp resting beside it. Stanley hopped out of Gordon’s grasp, landing on the couch cushions before Gordon sat down beside where it landed. He rested his hands on his jean clad legs, before reaching up and removing his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the other hand as if that would help ease the exhaustion. Stanley chirped and squeaked as it crawled around the couch, moving up and onto the back of it when Gordon turned his legs to lay across the entirety of the couch. He adjusted himself until he was mostly comfortable, using one of the cushions to support his head and sore leg, all before he lightly placed his glasses onto the coffee table in front of the couch. Stanley rolled off of the back of the couch, landing on Gordon’s stomach, making Gordon let out a breath and wincing slightly when he felt Stanley’s claws digging into his stomach, luckily not enough to leave any cuts. He lightly caressed the back of Stanley’s shell as it laid down on top of him, its eye closing before Gordon leaned back, reaching for the lamp’s pull-cord, and shutting it off.

Gordon heard static before his eyes had even opened, the harsh sound ripping him out of deep sleep more effectively than any alarm clock ever has. When his eyes opened, he glanced towards the pale-blue light of the television near the front of the room, seeing it was tuned to a dead channel. Gordon was tempted to get up and shut it off, but his arms nor legs made any attempt to move from their spot on the couch. In fact, nothing could move aside from his eyes, with a wave of paralyzation hitting him at that moment. Gordon’s heart thumped in his chest as he tried not to panic, knowing it to just be a temporary paralysis that would leave him at any moment, though the longer it took, the further he delved into feeling trapped in his own body. As he desperately tried to move a single one of his limbs, he froze, eyes staring at something he could barely see through his blurred vision. Next to television stood a tall man, one that was barely visible through the darkness behind the bright light of the static. Gordon could make out the outline of its white dress shirt under its dark coat and tie, but Gordon’s eyes fixated on the two bright yellow eyes staring back at him in silence. The man didn’t move, feeling close to a bizarre statue one might find in a museum somewhere, feeling so lifelike yet so surreal and fake at the same time.

Gordon was unsure whether the apparition was real or simply another hallucination, yet his body had already made its decision that it was a threat, trying desperately to get Gordon out of harm’s way, yet remaining unmoving aside from a few minor twitches. Gordon finally managed to free his arm, reaching for the pull cord before turning the light on, his head turning to face where the man was, only to find him gone, as if he was never there in the first place. The TV was off, with the static’s sound and light disappearing when the light returned to the room. His breathing heaved his chest, making him ache with every harsh breath he took. He sat up, eyes fixated on the place where the man once stood, almost as if he expected him to reappear the second he blinked. However, his attention was drawn away when he looked down, seeing Stanley prodding at his foot with one of its claws, its antennae twitching all the while. Gordon glanced back up, thankful when he saw nothing out of the ordinary before he leaned over and let Stanley crawl onto his hand, holding it up and placing it back onto the couch cushion beside him.

“Gordon?”

The sound of someone else's voice nearly made Gordon jump out of his own skin, his hand instinctively reaching for a gun holster he didn’t have around his waist. Gordon’s tension was relieved however when he saw who the voice belonged to: Barney. Barney was standing in the hallway, covered in a blank gray t-shirt and sweatpants, with his tired eyes staring back at Gordon, with an emotion that was unreadable.

“What are you doing up so early,” Barney asked, “I thought you were the one to sleep in all the time.”

Gordon tried to think of an answer, feeling his throat become tight when he didn’t have one, at least not one he wished to share.

“Also…I thought I told you to keep that roach in its pen while you stay here.” Barney pointed at Stanley, who was in the process of crawling underneath the couch beside Gordon’s foot.

Gordon looked around, not seeing where it had went before letting out a breath, messily using sign language to say; “Put him back later.”

“Why don’t you put him back now,” Barney said with a stern tone, “I don’t want to come back from work to see it raided the pantry again.”

Gordon looked to the side, deciding to not bring up the torn up cookie container at that moment. Gordon stood up, a wave of nausea hitting him at once as soon as he did, causing him to fall back onto the couch, sitting there until it started to wane again. Barney’s slightly annoyed gaze softened when he watched Gordon rub his eyes, tiredly reaching for his glasses to put them back on.

“...You look like hell.”

Gordon was aware of that sentiment already, making him not feel a need to respond.

“You sure you’re good to work with Doc today?” Barney questioned as Gordon tried again to stand up, this time succeeding in not collapsing. “You know, I can always ask him to give you a day off–”

“Fine.” Gordon signed. “I’m Fine.”

Barney stared back at Gordon before letting out a slight scoff. “I suppose I can’t really tell you what to do, huh.”

Gordon glared at him, not noticing, nor caring, how harsh the look appeared. It didn’t last long regardless however, as right after he began to look for Stanley to put him back in his pen, whistling to try and get its attention. Barney continued to stare at Gordon from the hallway, tired eyes only barely concealing his worry before he turned back towards his room to get ready for his job at the hospital. When Gordon heard the door close, he looked back at the hallway, brows slightly furrowed as he thought to himself. He didn’t expect Barney to understand exactly the things he had been experiencing since he woke up, and the very thought of telling him, risking the very friendship Gordon had been treasuring since he could remember, made him feel ill. Of course, the ill feeling could have also come from the tension he felt in his chest, but it didn’t matter regardless. Barney deserved better than to be dragged into another man’s mess, anyway.

Thus, by choice for once, Gordon remained silent.

#half life #Gordon Freeman #Barney calhoun #HL Aftermath au #Aftermath Gordon #Aftermath Barney #Aftermath Gman #tagging as both canon characters along with au tags cause. I duno #shmorp writes sometimes #tw drug mention #Aftermath is fun to write for. I got the motivation to write this last night randomly #Also i've been thinking of posting fics to Ao3. Dunno if I will right now but I might in the future.#Anyway hope you like this!

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