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Resting against the wall, Gordon focused on keeping his breathing regular and even, languoring in the recent shot of morphine from his suit. It needed a little more time to fully kick in and numb the injury completely, but when it did, he’d be on his way. It was going to be a gruelling journey back to safety, but at least he wouldn’t be in much pain. All he really wanted to do was sleep, but that wasn’t an option with the shape his leg was in. If he didn't get himself fixed up, it was only going to get worse.
His breathing started to stretch out, eyelids opening and closing with the slow drag of a tired child. A small change, imperceptible. To the outside world, nothing amiss, but to those who could see beyond.
The world continued to wind down, time ticking to a soft and gradual stop. Eyes glassy and unblinking, a breath was frozen on Freeman's lips, the physicist completely unaware that it was the very last one he’d take.
An impossible silence manifested. Not even the subatomic hum of excitable particles to be perceived. Without a sound, a rectangular panel of pure white light snapped up from the ground. Its stark white glow bordering the form of a tall suited man who quietly stepped out. As soon as he was clear, the portal of light shuttered closed exactly as it had opened, disappearing without a trace. The man was still, surveying the derelict area. Adjusting his tie, he inhaled a deep breath into his lungs and held it, fighting the urge to break into a bout of coughing.
The first breath was always the worst.
Exhaling shakily, his footsteps echoed within the complete absence of sound. Passing the corpse of a recently deceased Combine entity, he gave the red crowbar lodged in its throat a cursory glance, then rounded a corner, silvery eyes alighting on the human he was here for.
Gordon Freeman. Propped up against a wall. Unseeing. Unknowing.
By the looks of things, he’d gotten himself into a bit of a mess. Naturally, the kind of mess that he would have to clean up, like all the times before. He stalked closer, clasping hands to the small of his back. Leaning over, curious eyes peered down at Gordon’s outstretched leg to assess the damage. His ankle was all but mangled, bent and bloody, a sliver of creamy bone peeking out from under the crumpled armour, along with a pool of red under his heel.
Yes, quite the mess… this wouldn’t do at all.
Dawing back, he sighed through his nose. A setback, minor as it was... diversion from the meticulously planned course. A correction was in order. Something small. Something that would not draw too much unwanted attention. An… amendment, one could say.
The multitude of options and outcomes were laid bare before him, an endlessly unravelling web of effect and cause. Each invisible strand was considered, examined, and compared. Some deftly curled around a finger to sample their strength, others tugged experimentally to see the strain placed on the whole.
He couldn’t linger too long. His weren’t the only pair of eyes watching.
Ah… this one will do quite nicely.
Irises glowing like twin moons, he set to work. With only a thought, the scene rewound itself around him, consciousness reversing and matter redistributing. Blood was reabsorbed, bones remade, and life returned. Lifting a hand, as if in expectation, Gordon’s glasses came floating over, tethered to him, refracting light as they twirled. He plucked them out of the air. The scene slowed, everything coming to a halt when it reached the exact point he wanted.
There was just one last piece left to put in its place.
He looked down, impassive. Gordon lay at his feet, suspended in a state of evident panic, hands splayed as if searching for something. Stepping around his head, he leaned over, a foot leaving the ground as he stretched to gently place the glasses down at the side of his gloved hand.
…there.
He stood back to full height and stepped away, absently straightening his suit jacket.
His work here was done…for now. In the meantime, a great deal of other matters required his attention.
The panel of light returned, its celestial halo shrouding his features in darkness, leaving only the sterling glow of his eyes. With one last appraisal of the scene, he turned on his heel and disappeared.
Gently, a finger beyond time and space coaxed the hands of the great clock back into motion, and the man smiled as Gordon slipped his glasses on and rolled away from the Combine soldier’s attack, snatching up his crowbar, ready for the fight ahead.