Disclaimer: The characters and story originally created by Dmitri Glukhovsky in the book and video game series "Metro: 2033" and its sequels do not belong to me. Those properties are owned by Glukhovsky, 4A Games, and Deep Silver. This work of fiction is intended for entertainment purposes and is not meant to be canonical, though I tried very hard to make it fit within the parameters. I do retain my rights for the creation of my own original characters and ideas. I do not make any money from writing this story.

Chapter Ten: Kuznetsky Most

The eerie chill of the night was tangible even through thick clothing and armor. Artyom had a strong sense that somebody or something was watching him and Aleks as they swiftly made their way down a narrow footpath that wavered alongside the main road. The road itself was entirely occupied by abandoned vehicles of all kinds and Artyom wondered where all the people who owned them had ended up. He allowed the view to fill as much space in his mind as possible, giving himself a break from the awareness of his paranoid suspicions but he also wondered if he was better off just living with the creepy feeling, so that at least he would be ready if anything did show itself. Though his rifle was locked on safe, his finger remained tensed against the trigger.

Aleks looked over her shoulder at him periodically, perhaps feeling just as paranoid as he was. She tensed when a gust of wind knocked a gnarled tree branch free of some tangled wires. It was clear to him that although she had a keen survival sense in the Metro, she was not knowledgeable to the ambient sounds that echoed on the surface simultaneously; the wind blowing and moving things, animals and mutants scratching or howling in the distance, creaking structures, and the ever-changing weather were all unfamiliar to her ears.

Artyom was now quite proud of himself, that he could discern threatening sounds from the natural chorus. At the moment no danger had presented itself through noise, rather it was the lack of noise that bothered him more. Even his own footsteps seemed muted to him and he took the next few very forcefully to be sure. It was as if his ears were blocked with cotton and thus everything around him was subdued. Sensing the need to look up, he obeyed the feeling and was delighted to see Aleks pointing ahead to a large circular clearing in the middle of the road. To the left was the Metro entrance on the corner of several short interconnected buildings. A breath of relief escaped him, making a stream of white haze emerge from his respirator. The calm feeling her update gave him seemed to stick, and his focus switched from fearfully listening to his surroundings to only himself. He could fully hear his footsteps now, along with the ruffling of his rucksack and clothing as he trotted forward to catch up with his companion.

Aleks quickly cleared the perimeter of the building with her flashlight and stepped inside through the casing of what used to be a large window. Artyom joined her as she was pointing her rifle down the deep pit of the escalators. Determining that the area was safe, she settled her rifle into the leather strap on the side of her rucksack and turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm following your lead now." She admitted with a serious expression. "If you want to put on your other vest, that might help."

Artyom began to remove his rucksack and heed her advice, not fully understanding what she was implying, but hoping she would continue explaining as he changed uniforms.

"Just tell them you were sent as a diplomat to the Baumanskaya Alliance and had to return on the surface due to Venice and Hansa." She crossed her arms as she talked and watched him as he removed his Spartan armor from his pack. Obviously she had put a good amount of thought into the story they were going to tell to the guards inside. Artyom now wondered what Baumanskaya was like and if Aleks had ever been there.

"Anything else?" He asked tentatively, wondering what the rest of her plan was, or what type of other questions they may be asked inside.

"Just keep it simple." Aleks shrugged and then she began to reach in her pocket for something.

Artyom carefully replaced his borrowed armor with his black vest from D6, placing the former into his rucksack along with his weapon. It felt comforting to have something of his own on again, even if it didn't quite match with the rest of his outfit.

"What about you?" He made a vague gesture about her clothing and she gave a shrug. He wasn't sure if it was only because he had interjected, but she adjusted the long sides of her heavy brown cape behind her shoulders so that her slim figure was easily observed.

"I suppose… nobody really sees me most of the time. I think it's because, in general, women aren't seen as a threat." She put a hand on one hip, waiting for him to finish.

"In general…" He echoed, repeating what she said rather than making an implication. He had seen firsthand how formidable she was in a variety of situations and knew her statement to be false. Taking his passport from his back pocket, he descended the escalators carefully with Aleks in tow.

There was a sign at the bottom instructing them to knock in a certain way to let the inhabitants know that they were humans wishing to enter. Artyom did as the sign said and after a long pause a red flashing light came on, followed by the familiar sound of the motorized hermetic doors unsealing. He was glad to be going back underground, glad that their difficult day was almost at an end. He certainly would have been lost after leaving Venice were it not for the knowledge that the Red Arrow had amassed on current traversable routes.

"Who goes there?" A man called to them when the door had slid back far enough to see out of.

"I'm a Ranger from the Spartan Order." Artyom untucked his dog tags from his shirt and brandished his passport. "Passing through to get back to Polis."

The guard took a few steps back, beckoning them inside so that the door could be closed again. Two other men flanked him at the back wall, one manning a large machine gun mounted on a metal stand and the other stood by a small table with a radio spitting out static. It seemed a little strange to Artyom that the machine gun hadn't been aimed towards to outer door, but back into the main vestibule.

Removing the visor of his helmet, he took a breath of the cold air and looked back at Aleks to give her an appreciative smile. She removed her own gas mask, moved a few strands of her hair back into place, and smiled back at him more warmly than usual. It was perceptible to him that she felt the same way as he did.

"What brings you this way, Ranger?" The guard asked with a look of genuine interest. Artyom recognized that they must be members of the local militia, as they were wearing different uniforms than the regular Red Line soldiers and were much more pleasant too.

"I was sent as a diplomat to Baumanskaya." Artyom quickly glanced over at Aleks as if to confirm that he was saying the right thing, she nodded just once. "But Hansa is restricting travel due to the incident at Venice."

"What a right mess, there! Bandits and crime, sure, but there's hardly ever an open shooting going on in a residential station." The guard looked gravely over at the radio operator and then turned his attention towards Aleks and smiled widely. "So, who is your beautiful companion there?"

"She's… my… uh—" Artyom stammered, looking over at her for answers, but she only smiled sweetly back at him and remained quiet. He was irritated by her silence and confused, and it showed.

"Haha! It's alright; you don't have to say it. We get it." The man laughed, eliciting the other two guards into a chuckle.

Artyom was sure that his face had turned bright red once he understood their inference. Aleks, however, remained complacent and in fact took a step closer so that she was able to take hold of his arm, somewhat leaning into him.

"So, m-may we pass?" Artyom asked awkwardly, trying halfway through the sentence to sound authoritative.

"You can go ahead into the station, but you won't be able to get through to the Red Line until tomorrow." The guard turned his head back to them and fell serious and straight. "It's already closed now, plus there's a cordon for outside visitors that restricts free transit. There's an area for travelers down the platform to the right before the market."

There was nothing to do but agree to the conditions and go inside the station. Artyom walked alongside Aleks, letting her guide him, as his mind was consumed by how irritated he was at that entire exchange. From the insinuations of the guards and no input from her to deter them, to having to wait overnight in order to keep travelling. He felt his head getting hot and removed his helmet entirely with a huff. Looking over at her confirmed that she was still smiling innocently and her arm was still wrapped around his.

"What was all that about?" He blurted angrily, his head still feeling warm and foggy with frustration.

"Hey, it worked didn't it?" Aleks distanced herself slightly, looking up at him with her brows furrowed. "Besides, you couldn't ask for a better girlfriend."

Artyom was stunned silent by her statement; his mind suddenly stopped its rant of grievances and switched to disbelief. He had momentarily forgotten that his companion was female, as up until now he had only seen her as a revolutionist soldier, and a force to be reckoned with at that. Nothing even remotely similar to the possibly of romance had crossed his mind about her, yet here she was, strolling alongside him with arms linked as if they were a couple walking out from their marriage vows – or so he'd heard about from others. He felt his face flush and took to looking straight ahead of them, walking more rigidly, his heartbeat now palpably throbbing in his chest.

"So, we'll find ourselves a tent at the hotel and see about getting something to eat. I'm starved, aren't you? Those old IRP crackers can't feed you forever you know." Aleks snickered, referring to the field rations he had been snacking on as they headed out from Avtozavodskaya that morning.

"Sure, yeah." He managed to squeak out in reply, his head now a jumbled mess of hypothetical questions and doubtful answers that he could barely discern and could certainly never share with her.

He spent the next hour on autopilot, now actually thankful for the fact that she liked to lead him around when they walked, not to mention grateful for the positive mood she had gained. She had procured them some smoked sausage and a large portion of mushrooms, along with a few grams of tea. For two new magazines of rifle ammunition, she traded two bars of soap that were surely the kind made at Avtozavodskaya. The merchant had looked skeptical of her but apparently recognized the value in the quality of the product. Besides their purchases at the market, they also stopped at a small bar near the hotel and sat down to order some porridge.

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink after all that." Aleks said as she ordered a cup of the local brew for them both, taking a small sip and looking around the place with bright-eyed interest.

Artyom gulped the distilled liquid down almost instantly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before tucking into his bowl of porridge. Aleks made a sound of amusement by his actions, but then sighed solemnly and leaned her head onto her arm propped up on the table.

"I'm not sure if the others will be able to find us now. They could be at Polis already and think we went ahead without them. Or maybe they just gave up and went home." Aleks poked at her food, stirring the thick slop a few times but not eating. "I really hope that Andrei—that Ivanovich, is okay. This… wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Either the comfort of the station had loosened her tongue or she had simply bottled up her worries for too long. Artyom wasn't sure that she was going to admit her failure at all, since she'd been so stoic during every stage of their rough journey.

"The others don't even have business in Polis – they were only going there to protect me, like they always have… I suppose it doesn't matter anymore." Aleks gave up trying to talk to him and sat up straight, finishing the rest of her drink rather quickly.

"Of course it matters." Artyom placed his hand on her free one at the edge of the table, finally speaking up. Hearing her concerns, it was suddenly very important to him to reassure her that things would be okay, possibly due to his own concern about the rest of the Red Arrow since the Venice incident. "You will see them again. They will be there waiting for you."

Her hand was soft and warm, if a bit bony, and she relaxed at his touch. She concentrated her eyes on their connection and nodded her head slowly.

"Thank you Artyom. You've been a brilliant companion, I'm glad I could trust you." She said clearly and softly.

"We aren't there, yet." He gently reminded her, showing a playful and eager smile.

A moment of silence between them solidified the optimistic feeling that he had exuded and she seemed to receive. Showing a weak smile in return, she finally looked up at him. Tears had gathered in her eyes but didn't fall. Artyom understood the emotions caught in them; both the painful ones that had accumulated during their journey but also the hope for what the next day would bring. He started to wonder again exactly what her business at Polis was but knew that this was not the proper time to ask.

"Well, we should get as much rest as we can tonight so we can be first in line at the checkpoint tomorrow." Aleks stood up abruptly, her hand slipping from beneath his, and went searching in her pocket, counting out appropriate amount of cartridges for their meal. Artyom had offered to pay earlier, but she had refused, so he insisted on paying for the hotel instead - to which she agreed.

"Do you think we'll have any problems getting through the Red Line?" He asked as they left the table, but really he wanted to ask if they would have to pull the same charade that they had at the entrance to Kuznetsky Most.

"Passports speak for themselves. The communists don't care about your story, they just need the facts." She spoke flatly and more quietly so as not to be overheard, not looking back at him as she led the way towards the hotel.

Artyom glanced around and wondered if there were spies here like she had been telling him earlier about Nikolai and Dmitri. He tried to put it out of his head and speak cordially to the man running the little row of guest tents. Paying the reasonable fee for the night, they were directed to a sizeable tent along the back wall of the platform, under the last archway. It was a dark and quiet spot. Artyom lit the lantern hanging outside the tent before offering it to Aleks and lifting the flap for her. Taking the lantern she crawled inside, hanging the light on a small hook on the back wall of the tent. Artyom crawled in and tied the flap closed behind him; taking a seat on the left of the two cots since she had claimed the other one, he removed his rucksack and placed it between his feet. Aleks did the same, but also had to remove her heavy brown cape which Artyom was just recognizing as some kind of heavy canvas material. She unstrapped her rifle from her pack and checked it over quickly before standing it up next to her cot.

Artyom didn't even have the thought at the time about being let into the station with weapons, but he wasn't complaining. At least he could be calm now in knowing that his position as a Ranger afforded him some leeway with such customs and he wouldn't have to surrender his treasured weapons at the Red Line entrance. He didn't wish to part with his new machine gun or Senya's pistol.

Aleks tucked her pack under the foot of her cot and then set about unlacing her boots. He watched silently for a moment, admiring how many layers she was actually wearing as she began to unlace her armored vest next. He had never seen her without it, and suddenly wondered exactly how many special details went into her outfit. She continued to untie strings and strip away fabric until she was left wearing only a standard issue striped undershirt, her cargo pants, and a pair of black socks.

"Did you make that armor yourself?" He asked finally, after wondering about it since they'd met.

"Most of it, modified it at least." She laid her effects in a neat pile on top of her bag and looked back at him. "I am lucky to know how to sew. My mother taught me what she knew when I was young. It was my duty for a long time growing up in Reich, I worked in the shop where we mended uniforms and made new things like banners, curtains, and sacks for goods. But I didn't make this stuff until after I left Revolution Square and Kitai-Gorod."

"I worked at the tea factory back home at Exhibition, but that isn't really a useful skill like yours." Artyom admitted, giving a reminiscent sigh as he unlaced his own boots and set them aside.

"No, but it's good tea!" She laughed and then sat back, leaning over until she was lying on her side facing him.

"Yeah, I hated it though. It was boring and repetitive work." He undid the straps to his Spartan vest and set it on top of his boots next to the cot, leaving only the grey uniform and his socks on. "I used to sit there cutting mushrooms for hours and be dreaming about what life was like in the next station over, and now it seems like I've been everywhere."

"It's a small little world we have, when you think about it." Aleks sighed, her eyes fixed in one place as if she were looking through him to the wall. "Yet each station is so different from the next."

Artyom mumbled an agreement and it set his mind on a visual journey of the places he'd visited in the Metro. His earlier epiphany about the Metro being divided up like separate countries came back to him. In the end, although there were different races of people, and different ideals and religious beliefs, he couldn't understand why people had to fight so violently against each other. To him it used to be simple but it didn't seem so black and white anymore. Just Aleks for example was a whole new shade of gray. Ordinarily, anyone from Reich would be considered bad, but she had such distaste for her own origin that she obviously wasn't one of the Nazis. Even good people, like the Kshatriya of Polis, had to do bad things in order to protect themselves. They routinely defended their borders against the Red Line and the Nazis alike, but killing in a defensive manner didn't make them bad by association. He wondered where the figurative line was drawn between good and evil.

He glanced over at Aleks, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, although she hadn't moved from her previous position. He leaned over and gently slid the folded wool blanket from beneath her feet; stretching it over her and shaking out the folds. She stirred slightly, but didn't awaken. He lay on his back, dragging his tired feet up onto the cot. Still watching her, he stared at the capsule on the string around her neck and realized there was still a lot about her he didn't know, but wanted to. But as he said, they hadn't reached Polis yet, so there was still time for conversation on the next step of their journey.

Turning the damper of the lamp, the flame went from orange, to red, and then a flicker of dark blue before the tent was in darkness. He shook his own blanket free and pulled it up over himself. Feeling comfortable and safe, he drifted off to sleep.