Half-Life story or something

A bright, eerie, constantly changing myriad of stars were dancing in the distance. At least, it looked like a dance for the corporal ; blinking lights, vanishing in the distance, comets rising and falling on the horizon. The ballet of stars was a comforting sight for Shepard.

How long had he been there, stuck in this void between the dimensions, eyes wide open, drifting away? He couldn’t tell ; he felt nothing. No fatigue, no warmth, no cold. Even his own fingers sensed nothing when they reached for his chest ; he barely noticed a difference when he clenched his fist.

Was it what death felt like ? Perhaps he had deserved this eternity of silence, sealed away with his lone self. Sometimes, the monotony of the stars faded ; he had visions. Those weren’t dreams, sleep was a luxury he had not been granted.

He was viewing himself falling of the helicopter. Other times, the visions were showing the endless corridors of this facility, and the aliens pouring into it. A convoluted picture of memories, blurred flashes of combat, pure instinct and reflexes guiding his hand and guns.

And amidst all this, the man with the briefcase. In every picture, he appeared distorted, different, alien, changing. The vision were so incoherent Adrian caught himself thinking he had imagined him all along.
But who else could have done that ? Why would be here, if it weren’t him ?

Shepard had no explanation. He was a soldier ; he was a man who acted, not a man who thought. In the field, a thinking man was a dead one, the drill sergeants said. All he could do now was watching the stars.

And somehow, the dance had stopped. The stars were standing still. In the distance, he saw a figure coming at him. It looked like one of the many aliens he had fought ; the ones that run on their two legs, had this glowy, menacing red eyes. He remembered them mostly for their bolts of green lights that burned flesh and destroyed walls.

But this one was different. The feeling of fear, the rush of adrenaline that the sight of these beasts did not come. For the first time in this timeless eternity, Adrian felt again. He felt a warm breeze on his face ; he felt his body moving, his muscles itching, his heart beating.

The xeno began to chant. In all his encounters with these aliens before, Shepard only heard them scream, grunt, and hiss with hatred at everything that lived. He hadn’t imagined such brutal creatures could produce this kind of sound ; the deep, slow, entracing harmony of the alien was soon joined by others voice, weaving a complex song whose notes resonated in the void. As the aliens moved closer to him, seemingly walking on the void as it was sold floor, Adrian wondered only if it was another vision or if his time had finally arrived.

The aliens then stop their chanting, grabbed him, and he felt the world falling under him. He wanted to say something ; words did not came.

He was hungry, dizzy, tired, and all of his body was screaming in pain. He looked around to see the same desolated corridors and trash. He was alive, and back in Black Mesa.