The first time he visits the chapel in Black Mesa East, it's out of fear.

That's not to say that the subsequent times aren't fearful, don't come with a healthy side dose of panic and anger and hurt, but the first time specifically is because he's afraid. He hasn't prayed in... shit, years, Barney reckons, slipping into a pew like a stranger. He wonders if God's even gonna recognize him.

As he sits, hunched in the pew, it dawns on him. He's forgotten how to pray. Barney licks his lips and lifts his head, glancing at the front of the chapel. It's a nice little room. Stained glass windows up behind the pulpit, backlit by soft light. Filthy, but nice.

He's had a rough couple of years since Black Mesa. Since Gordon. He knows he should be praying for forgiveness, because God is nothing if not vengeful, towards him at least. He should close his eyes and clasp his hands and remember every citizen and rebel he's had to let die since he was shoved into the CP uniform. That's what he oughta do. He should apologize for not trying harder, not just for that, but for being who he is. Goddamn, he hasn't prayed to stop being gay in years.

Instead he thinks of Gordon. His soft smile, his funny, pointed looks. The way he signed when he was tired, or drunk, or excited. The way he'd signed to Barney that morning, boarding the tram. See you later.

"God," Barney chokes, then lifts his head, glances at the pulpit again. The chapel is empty, just him and the dust on the floor, and possibly some angry, unforgiving, unseen force waiting to strike him down.

"Uh, hey," Barney begins, clasping his hands together. "S'me." Pause. "Barney Calhoun. Shit, I've never been good at this..."

He leans back in the pew, letting his head tip back. How to begin...

"I guess the thing is," he says, thumb tracing a rough spot in the wood pew's back. "The thing is, uh... I'm gay. Okay. I'm still gay. And that's why I haven't... talked in a long time, so." He closes his eyes quickly, scared something's going to materialize to smite him. A bolt of lightning. Maybe a pissed off Vortigaunt. Does God send Vortigaunts?

"There's a man I love," he says, bringing a hand up to rub his face. "Gordon. He means everything to me, but he's missing, since Black Mesa..." The more he says, the more futile it feels. Why would God care about his husband, missing for four years? Husband. Barney never lets himself think of Godon in the past tense, because that would make it too real. This way, it's more like he's out getting milk.

"I," Barney says, stops himself. "I just want him home. Please. If you just bring him home, I--I'll never ask for anything again. Swear to... you."

Nothing in the chapel responds. Barney sniffs, wipes his face, wincing at the pain in his wounded cheek. "S'fine," he mumbles, starting to stand. "I'll, uh. I'll get outta your hair."

He's fucking bad at this.

It took him over a year to call home.

Ed's taillights receded in the distance, leaving Barney alone on the highway in the dark. He sat for a bit, half expecting Ed to come driving back to get him, get in boy, your mother wants you home, it's a school night, but despite all his tears, no one came.

So he started walking. He didn't know where to go, but home wasn't an option anymore. Had it really been his home for the past few years, anyway?

He walked a couple miles, crying, stopped, rested, walked on. Every once in a while a truck would pass him, and he'd flinch, half expecting Ed to jump out and beat him all over again.

Barney was so tired. He wanted to lay down on the side of the road and sleep, or maybe die, but that would be a pretty shitty way to go, wouldn't it? Better to keep moving. As the sun was coming up, a truck slowed to a stop in front of him, and the driver beckoned him to the door.

"You need a ride?"

Barney nodded, and when the man asked where he was headed, he considered a moment. "Houston," he croaked, climbing into the cab.

The truck driver offered him some water and trail mix as they drove, and Barney dozed off and on, waking up as they neared the first exit for Houston. "You know where you're going?" the driver asked, and he nodded, but it was a lie.

Barney had no idea where he was headed.

The trucker left him at a gas station near the edge of town, gave him a couple bucks to get himself some more water, and drove on. Barney stepped into the gas station to get himself a drink and stood in line behind a couple of folks, looking over the posters and flyers stapled to the wall. Among the "lost dog" and "missing person" flyers, there was one nestled away in the back, and Barney squinted, working it loose.

At risk LGBT youth? Come to South Houston Community Center, 1007 State St Ste 205 or call Tom W, 469-540...

He yanked the flier off the wall and stuffed it in his pocket, then paid for his drink and hurried out.

It was a long walk from the gas station to the community center, and he got turned around more than once. Barney had never spent much time in the city, and never any time on his own. By the time he reached his destination, he was exhausted. He stepped up to the doors and headed inside, looking for the suite number on the flier.

And there it was, suite 205. He licked his lips, hand on the doorknob, and turned it... to find it locked.

Oh. That was probably the breaking point, being locked out of his last salvation. Barney sat down in the hall, back to the wall, and cried. It must have been a good ten minutes he sat there, bawling to himself, before the man approached.

"Y'alright?"

He lifted his head, face red and puffy from crying, and shook it. "No."

"Come on in." The man unlocked the door and held it open for Barney, a cup of coffee in his other hand. He pulled a sign off the door that Barney hadn't noticed--coffee run, back in :15!

Well now, didn't that make him feel stupid.

"I'm Tom," the man introduced himself. "What's your name?

"Barney," he croaked, looking around the room. Lots of posters and flyers and brochures with helpline information.

"Do you want some tea or somethin Barney? Water?"

"Tea," Barney sniffled. Tom set his coffee down and crossed the room to a little kitchen area to fetch a ceramic mug, and brewed him some Tetley. He returned in a minute, handing Barney the mug and carrying a box of tissues.

"Do you wanna come sit down in my office? Tell me what's goin on."

Barney nodded and followed him into an adjoining room. And there, he told Tom everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours, and the past few years, and Tom nodded, handing him tissue after tissue as he cried.

"I don't wanna go back," Barney said eventually, trying to calm his breathing. Tom shook his head.

"You don't have to go back, Barney. But I'm guessing you don't have a plan for what to do."

"No," Barney sobbed.

"You're okay. We're gonna figure this out." The door to the suite opened, and through the window of the office, Barney watched another man enter. Tom stood, picking up Barney's tea mug to go get him some more. "I'm gonna get you somethin more to drink, okay? And then we're gonna figure out what we can do for you."

Barney nodded. He felt wrung out. When Tom returned, he cleared his throat.

"I, uh. Don't even have my diploma yet..."

Tom nodded. "We'll get that worked out too." He turned to the big cream colored computer on his desk and jiggled the mouse, logging in as Barney sipped his tea.

"We can put you up in a motel for a while--it's not gonna be real fancy, our funding won't allow for much... But it'll do for a bit." Barney nodded. "Are you a senior?"

Barney shook his head, feeling the tears well up again, sobbed out "Junior."

"Alright... Hey, don't worry kiddo, we'll get it worked out."

Tom made a lot of phone calls after that, as Barney sat there, listening but not hearing.

"Alright," he said after the last call. "We gotta check you into your room before too long, but we've got some time. It's real close to here--" he turned then, and grabbed a piece of paper printing off the fax machine behind him. "Not a bad place to stay for a while. I'll drive you over there when you're ready."

In the meantime, Tom gathered up a bunch of resources for him, numbers to call if he needed them, his personal phone number, a bus pass...

"Do you have any money on you?" Tom asked. Barney dug the money clip out of his pocket and set it on the desk. "Alright. You hang onto that, we'll figure out your food situation..."

He met Tom's partner Josh on the way out, feeling cautiously optimistic as Tom led him to the door, then outside. Tom took him to McDonald's for lunch first (a luxury!) and then checked him into the motel.

"I'm gonna make some more phone calls," he promised. "If you need anything, you've got my cell number. Alright?"

He doesn't return to the chapel for almost a full year, not until May. The five year anniversary of the Black Mesa incident. He shuts the door behind himself, leans against it.

"S'gotta get better, right?" he asks, unsure of who he's even speaking to. He sighs, then sucks in a deep breath and approaches the pulpit. He stops halfway up the aisle, eyes on the stained glass. As if it may hold some answer for him.

"Hey, uh. Me again. Barney." He stands stock still, listening for some response that never comes. "I just... thought I'd drop in."

His hand lands on the back of the pew to his right, dusty and worn. "Guess nobody really uses this place, huh," he says. He shakes his head. "Look, it's... five years. Hasn't..."

He stops himself, biting his lip, then tries again. "Haven't I suffered enough? I need him back."

The door swings open behind him, and Eli's kiddo comes running in. Barney wipes his face, turning as she reaches him.

"Hey, Alyx."

"I found you," she informs him.

"You did," Barney agrees. "Where's your dad?"

"Dad's working," Alyx says, looking around in amazement at the filthy chapel. "Where are we?"

"S'nothin," Barney says quickly, herding her towards the door. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Hello?" Lauren answered the phone, sounding mildly bored. Barney held his breath for a moment, and Lauren sighed in irritation. "Okay, bye--"

"Lauren," he choked, and heard her inhale sharply. "It's Barney."

"Jesus Christ," she hissed. "Barn--hold on." He heard her hurry upstairs from the hallway, cordless phone to her ear. "Lindsey!" she hissed, and there was some shuffling, the sound of a door opening and closing, and some hushed conversation.

"It's him."

"Who?"

"Our brother."

"Barney?! Barney is that you?" Lindsey whispered, coming closer to the phone.

"It's me," Barney said, so relieved he coulda cried.

They must have been holding the phone between them, Barney thought, because he could hear them both. "Are you the one that's been calling the past few days and then hanging up? Dad's been pissed," Lauren said.

"Barney, we thought you were... gone," Lindsey said softly.

"Where are you anyway?"

"I'm in California. I'm... I'm at college."

"You're okay?" Lindsey asked.

"Yeah." Liar.

"Dad wouldn't tell us what happened that night," Lauren said.

"Yeah..." Barney sighed, rubbing his face. He didn't really feel up to rehashing it for his curious sisters. "Look, I don't have a lot of minutes, and I don't want Ed catching y'all on the phone with me...I just--miss you guys."

"We miss you too," Lindsey sniffled.

"When are you coming home?" Lauren asked, and Barney sucked in through his teeth.

"Uh... that's not in the cards right now, sis." Probably not ever. "I gotta go--I got other phone calls to make, so..."

"Let me write down your number," Lauren said, and he rattled it off to her. "We'll talk to you again, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Love you."

He'd sat back on his bed after that, chewing the inside of his cheek. He ought to call Tom and tell him what was going on, but it felt impossible right now, an insurmountable task.

He forced himself to dial anyway, punching out the familiar phone number and putting his phone back to his ear.

"You've reached the voicemail of Tom Welk. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 911. I'm not at my phone right now, so leave me a message at the tone--"

Barney sighed, ending the call before the tone could sound. It kind of was an emergency, but he wasn't about to call 911 over it.

His phone rang a few minutes later, and Tom's name and number came up on the display. "Hey," he said, picking up.

"Barney? I saw that you called..."

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm... I don't know, Tom."

"What's going on, kiddo?"

Barney sighed, feeling it well up inside him. "I... I'm not doin good out here."

"Walk me through it, Barney." So he did, he spilled it all, the past two years of school and how lonely it had been, how hard his classes were, and he still hadn't figured out what major to go for, and California was so far away from home, even if it wasn't his home anymore. And Tom listened, letting him get it all out.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," Barney admitted, grimacing. "I just don't know."

"Do you feel like you're in danger of hurting yourself?"

"Yeah," he said. He shut his eyes tight, shame burning at him.

"Do you have any friends there who can--"

"No," Barney groaned. "I don't have... anythin." He sobbed, ducking his head. "I just wanna leave. I wanna go home."

"I don't think that's safe for you, Barney," Tom said.

"I know..."

"Look... You remember last time we spoke? I told you my brother might be able to put in a recommendation for you at Black Mesa?"

"Yeah..."

"Let me give him a call, okay? We need to get you some options."

"I'm scared," Barney said softly.

"You're gonna be okay. Josh, baby, can I borrow your phone? Barney, I'm still here with you, alright?"

"Okay."

He could hear Tom talking on the other phone, as Josh picked up the call to talk to him. "Hey, Barney."

"Hi Josh."

"Tom and I'll figure this out for you, okay? Even if Black Mesa isn't an option right away, you can come stay with us for a bit."

"Okay."

Tom came back on the line as they swapped phones again. "Alright, he's gonna talk to his supervisor. Okay? Barney, calm down a bit, okay? Tom and I gotta talk about how we're gonna get you out here, but you gotta relax a bit, cowboy."

"Okay," he repeated, voice hoarse.

"You think about gettin your stuff packed, and I'll call you back. We'll get you out of there."

He doesn't come back every year after that, but most of them. Mostly he just sits in the back row, feeling moody. Feeling angry. Feeling scared. Most years he doesn't say jack shit to God, because he's scared. If he pisses God off more, maybe Gordon really will be gone forever.

"Hey," he starts, on the nine year anniversary of the last day he saw Gordon. "Hey, I'm. I'm so fucking tired. An' I can't sleep. I can't sleep, cause he's not there. I can't even... have him back, even in my dreams." He chokes, tearing up. It's just the dust, he lies to himself.

"What's the point?" he asks, lifting his head. He feels hot and cold with anger. "What's the fucking point of living without him? Huh? You got an answer for me, cause I sure as hell don't!"

The chapel remains silent and still. Barney stands, breathing hard, and slams his boot into the pew, one solid kick. He hurries out after that.

He stayed with Josh and Tom for a few weeks, until Tom informed him that his little brother had got him an interview. Well--a phone interview to start, with an actual interview to follow, if he didn't fuck it up.

He couldn't afford to. If he blew this chance, he'd have nothing left, and who knew how long Tom and Josh would put up with him mooching off them?

Tom seemed sure he had it in the bag already. "You're gonna like it there," he promised. "It's not real hard work, but it pays well."

Barney nodded, staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. He had a few minutes to go until the phone interview, but the anticipation was killing him.

"And I think you and James'll get on well. He's a little older than you, but he likes video games. He's pretty shy, so you don't have to worry about socializing with him much, until you're good and ready."

Barney nodded, and then the phone rang, making him jump. He swallowed hard and picked it up.

"Hello--uh, Barney Calhoun speaking." Tom stepped away to give him some space for the interview.

It was a lot of "do you have a high school diploma or GED," and "any college education?" and "any background in security?" Yes, some, no. "Alright," the supervisor, whose name had slipped his mind, said. "We can schedule an interview... Welk's really vouching for you, so..."

"Yessir," Barney said, fumbling for a pen to jot down his interview date and time. "Yessir. See you then."

After all the anticipation and buildup, it was pretty underwhelming.

Tom and Josh bought him a plane ticket to get to Black Mesa--another thing he owed them back for, someday, when he could afford to pay back their kindness--and Barney flew out a week later, checked into a motel room in some backwoods desert town.

He was starting to really worry. Tom had told him not to, but he was scared. Even if he got the job--there was a chance he wouldn't. A good chance--but even if he did, what if he was just as alone and isolated there? He was also scared that Tom would've told James about him, and James would have spread it to everyone, making it the talk of Black Mesa before he'd even stepped foot in the door.

The interview was a breeze. For all his shortcomings, at least he could be charismatic. He'd been offered the position right away and accepted, signed papers, signed NDAs, signed all sorts of things, been given a visitor's badge to use temporarily...

It was such a relief, having somewhere to go. At the same time, though... for a few weeks, at Josh and Tom's place, he'd been allowed to be himself. Out. He'd had the smallest taste of freedom, of not having to hide and lie, and now here he was, walking right back into the closet.

He wasn't good at playing straight, he knew that. It had blown up in his face with Debbie, and he hadn't exactly excelled at it in college. He knew there had been whispers about him around the dorms. But at least he hadn't ended up behind some building on his knees again, now that the straight boys were old enough and confident enough to pick up girls instead.

He just hoped Black Mesa wouldn't crush him, having to be alone and closeted again.

"I thought I'd find you here," Alyx says. She shuts the chapel door behind herself, stepping through the years of dust to sit next to Barney. He sighs, looking over at her.

"How'd you know," he asks, and Alyx smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You always come here."

"Nah, not... not always," Barney murmurs. Alyx looks ahead at the pulpit. Barney's got his knees drawn up to his chest, the heels of his boots on the pew. Impolite, like a kid.

They sit silent for a while. "I'm tired," Barney tells her. "Goddamn. Just tired."

"Are we allowed to swear in here?" Alyx asks.

"No, I'm... I'm just bad at it," Barney laughs. Alyx looks closely at him, scanning his face for something, then tilts her head, rests it on his shoulder.

"You should rest," she tells him.

"I know, I got a shift..."

"Besides that," Alyx says. Barney shrugs, mumbles something. "Come on, lay down," she sighs, and somehow coaxes him into laying on the pew, head resting on her leg.

"Shift in the mornin," Barney reminds her.

"I know," Alyx says. "Just take a nap."

Barney doesn't dream at all, just sleeps.

The guard dorms weren't too bad. All the other guys were older than him--James was closest to him in age, and they were five years apart. Still, it wasn't the worst place he'd ever stayed. Even if the AC was out half the summer, and the power went out sometimes, usually on the hottest days, and the laundry facilities left a lot to be desired...

It was okay. And it was nice, having a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.

James wasn't bad to hang around either. Tom had been right, he was quiet and shy for such a big guy, he liked video games, and he didn't badger Barney into talking. Actually, Barney found himself having to badger James into saying more than a few words a day.

For the first few months, he did his best. He went out for drinks with the other guards often, and played straight as best he could. He'd dip out whenever they went to pick up girls, always had an "early shift" in his back pocket as an excuse, but no one seemed to notice or care. He learned how to talk about sports and cars, because he needed something to talk about with the guys, and he couldn't fake talking about chicks with them.

He did have to watch himself around James, make sure he didn't get too comfortable, let too much slip. The last thing he wanted was for James to realise he was just one of Tom's sad gay rescues. Luckily, James didn't seem to have an interest in cars or sports. Video games were a safe, normal topic for them. And even then, he didn't have to pretend to be super into it in a straight guy way; James never brought up Lara Croft's slammin low poly tits, just played the games and discussed story and strategy with him.

They got into the X-files together, by which time James was up to about six syllables of conversation most days. Barney had watched some of it at college, but rarely caught full episodes back then. Now, they marathoned the series, collecting episodes on VHS tapes to rewatch later.

And things were okay. He was faking it again, being straight, but it was all working out. The year he turned twenty, the guys tried to get him to go to a strip club with them, and he had to really fake sick then to get out of it, but no one seemed to care. It was just... alright. He finally felt like he almost had a home again.

Then at the start of that second year at Black Mesa, James elbowed him and said "new guy," and he met the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes upon.

"I get that you're pissed at me," he says, in the nineteenth year. "I get it. I know... I'm an abomination, I'm--a smear on the record, I get it! I always have. But you can't let Gordon die because of it."

He says it as if Gordon's not already been dead for almost two decades. A sob catches in his throat. "I need him," he whimpers, "I love him so much."

The chapel is still, other than Barney as he drops into a pew. For a moment, anger rises up in him, but it quickly gives way to exhaustion, sadness. He's so fucking tired.

"If you can't... If you won't give him back to me," Barney says finally, gritting his teeth. "Make me not want him. Make me forget, make me normal--I don't care, I just can't keep doing this!"

Barney cries until his eyes hurt, then heads for the door. He pauses, looking back at the pulpit, then closes the chapel on itself.