Chapter Text
“Mammoth.”
The tinny quality of the phone call, paired with Tommy’s naturally childlike voice, made him sound like an educational toy. Crank the lever and watch the arrow spin ‘round the wheel of animals, kiddies. What’s a prehistoric mammal with tusks?
“Mammoth?” Gordon repeated huskily. He absently scratched the weeks’ worth of undergrowth on his neck. He was looking fairly prehistoric himself these days. “What’s in Mammoth?”
“Well, there’s mountains and trees and fresh air,” Tommy prattled on. From anyone else it might have come across as sarcastic. Not from Tommy, though. Never Tommy. It was nice to hear his earnestly sincere voice again.
It was nice to hear anyone’s voice.
As Tommy continued to list all the wonderful, mundane things to be found in Mammoth, Gordon glanced around the room. One table. One chair. The kitchen cabinets (which held one plate and one cup.) It had been three long, lonely months since he moved into the studio apartment. The place still felt no closer to being a home. It wasn’t all that different from his dorm in Black Mesa. If anything, the studio was an upgrade. A bathroom and kitchen all to himself? Pinch him, he’s dreaming.
Still, in the back of his mind lurked that unsettling thought; Gordon didn’t choose this. The G-Man’s… superiors? Supervisors? Whatever he- it- called them. They had shoved him here like a loaded gun into a shoebox and put him on the highest shelf in the closet until things “settled down.”
Wait for our word, stay out of the public eye were the last instructions he’d been given. Waiting was the most difficult part. Gordon had no issue with laying low. He supposed his placement by the G-Man’s employers made some sense. Stuff him into a densely populated area, he’s hidden in plain sight. Still… Of all the cities, of all the mudholes in the world, why Los Angeles?
Crowded, smoggy, sprawling, loud Los Angeles.
Tommy was talking about Sunkist. She had never been camping before. He was excited to take her up there. Gordon could hear the smile in his voice and smiled himself. He tried to concentrate on Tommy’s words, tried not to the think about the sounds of blaring car horns outside, of two people screaming at each other on the street under his window, of the delivery man that had pulled up to the neighboring mercado and was slamming palettes onto the sidewalk. Bang. Bang.
Bang!
“Gordon?”
“Huh?” Gordon reddened under a fresh sheen of sweat. “I’m so sorry, Tommy. What was the question?”
“Would you like to come with us?”
He was offering Gordon a chance to get out. To see a friendly face. Everything he’d been so desperately craving. That said, Gordon’s gut reaction to any situation was to pull back and assess, even before… everything. He reflected on his final instructions. Their curtness drove him crazy, but they also left little to be misunderstood. Gordon flexed his right hand. Tendons popped under the faint white scar that circled his wrist like a bracelet. Anything given to him could be taken away.
Gordon sighed. “That sounds nice, Tommy, but-”
“Umm.”
“What?”
“Well, I just thought that you might want to get away. With what’s coming up?”
Gordon paged through his mental calendar. His 28th birthday had come and gone (not that he had any strange feelings about his birthday.) No anniversaries, good or bad, loomed ahead either.
“What are you talking about?”
“July Fourth.”
It took him a moment to understand. When he did, Gordon’s stomach plummeted.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Tommy’s one-word response was packed with misery.
The fireworks.
They were illegal in LA. But so was wiping out the entire United States military. Illegal meant jack shit.
Gordon rose from his creaky single bed and began to pace. He could barely handle weird city noises going 24/7. Actual explosions overhead---
Gordon twisted his panic into rage. Rage at the entities who had trapped him here. Who had a hand in the events that turned him into a skittery rabbit. Did you know that if a rabbit is scared bad enough, it can have a heart attack and die of fright? Gordon did. Gordon had learned lots of fun facts about stress in three months.
Fuck them. Fuck this. Fuck it all.
But also… one might consider the woods to be “out of the public eye,” right?
“Well,” said Gordon. He was pleased to hear his voice sound strong and confident, despite his lingering fear. “Like Dr. Coomer says, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained!’”
“Dr. Coomer is coming, too!” blurted Tommy.
His joy was contagious. “That’s awesome!” Gordon beamed. “I miss that crazy bastard!”
“And Bubby said he’ll drive!”
Gordon laughed. “Not a chance.”
“And-! Umm, well, t-text me your address and we’ll pick you up on Friday.”
Gordon’s smile faltered. “Okay, Tommy. See you guys Friday.”
“Bye, Mr. Freeman!”
Gordon stared at his phone’s screen until it went dark. The black glass reflected his consternated expression. It sounded like Tommy was going to add something else but cut himself off.
Well, nothing to do but fixate on it until Friday.
Gordon and the Science Team. Going camping. It’ll be fun.
The whole gang back together.
The whole gang.