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 Eleven: Confession

Ash and smoke obscured his vision; the heat from the smoldering ruins was intense even though the flames had died down. Bits of what looked like paper fell like snow in an orange light, still burning at the edges before dying out at his feet. The unyielding sense of doom weighed heavily on his body, making it hard to move. Forcing him to the ground, he could only crawl on hands and knees through the soot and soil as the building caved in around him.

Though the burning wreck suppressed him with the heat and fear of its power, it was the feeling in his chest that forced him to cry out. It was the feeling of knowing that all others around him were gone, and not just gone but dead. That somehow it was his fault because he was still alive and they had perished. It was as if each painful death was being imprinted on him, forcing him to feel as they did: suffocating for breath, flames licking their skin until it was blackened and blistered.

He screamed but no sound escaped him, he cried and nobody answered, only the crackling of the embers reached his ears in return. All he could do was look up; there was just a tiny opening in the storm that showed him the sky, gray and hostile though it was. He clung to this vision, trying to reach out to it, to crawl out from this dark and painful pit and reach salvation. There was something there, something towering over him, overlooking the wasteland from above. Was it, the gods, come to release him from his pain and grant him the same comfort in death as his comrades?

No. It was something else. It was him, it was Artyom! He saw himself from a great distance, feeling as though he was a lost soul looking back at his own body and feeling sick. How was such a thing possible? Was he looking through someone else's eyes? Who might be occupying his body, if not him?

His inquiry forced him back; he felt a great power drive through him as if he had just been punched in the stomach. He flew upwards, feeling the heat and pain fade away – but the sorrow remained. He was in his own body again, standing atop Ostankino Tower. He was looking down at the disintegrated hive of the Dark Ones and he felt their pain, the pain of one thousand deaths dragging his very soul from his heart and making him want to vomit. Sobbing, he fell to his knees, watching as the hive crumbled and breathed out black smoke. All he could hear was a high-pitched scream calling his name.

"Artyom! Artyom!" The voice called to him, raspy and whispering forcefully.

He managed to get to his feet, just barely, and hobbled forward leaning against the rail of the catwalk. Stepping out onto the edge of the platform, his head was in a depressive and dizzy haze. One more step, one more step and he would be free of this pain. He deserved it, he had killed them. One more step.

"Artyom!" The voice had changed tone, it was scared and soft. "Artyom, wake up!"

It was Aleks. Had she been calling to him this whole time? He bolted up and sat with his head in his hands, still gasping for air.

"Artyom, are you okay? What's wrong?" She sat on her knees on the floor between the two cots and took hold of his wrist gently, trying to coax him back to reality. At some point before releasing him from the prison of his own mind she had relit the lamp, and although glad for the light, the glow of it only reminded him of the smoldering fire from his dream.

"I-It's fine. It's… nothing. I-I didn't mean to wake you." He panted, sniffing back horrified tears, wondering how she could understand his words at all. Although warm and comfortable when he had slipped into slumber, he was confronted by the most haunting of thoughts in his dreams.

"Nothing? Crying out in your sleep and gasping as if you cannot breathe is not nothing." Her initial comforting demeanor had faded quickly and her eyes now pierced at him suspiciously. He had obviously alarmed her and she was now only seeking answers. "Are you sick? Do you want me to find a doctor?"

"The Dark Ones." Artyom choked on the words, not wanting to admit his actions, but he needed to say it out loud. Keeping the memories to himself did nothing more than invite more guilt to plague him. He struggled to control his breathing, so he could share the story with her, with anyone, finally. "I killed them… I killed all of them."

"Just what are you talking about?" Aleks' voice grew even more stern and she released her grip from him. She sat up straight and displayed a forceful look that demanded an immediate and precise response.

"It was myself, Colonel Melnik, Ulman… we sent the missiles from D6 into the Botanical Gardens. That was the home of the Dark Ones… and I destroyed it!" Artyom avoided her gaze with difficulty. The words lurched forward from his dry mouth with regret, spilling out of him and contaminating the space inside the tent with all their foul truth. Almost as soon as he had said them, he wished he hadn't. Explicit details of that mission were supposed to remain classified. Not to mention the detestable Savior crap everybody kept talking about.

"So, it's you…? The Savior of the Metro." Aleks leaned back against the metal frame of her cot, fixing her eyes on the floor and cradling her knees to her chest. The expression on her face revealed both intrigue and horrified surprise. "From Exhibition?"

"I didn't save anyone… the only reason they could even get into the Metro was because of me." Finally catching his breath and slowing down his thoughts, he turned to sit on the edge of the cot. He had her attention again now, and found he couldn't stop himself from continuing the wretched tale. It was too late to take it all back in now, whether it was against regulations or not, he felt the absolute necessity in regurgitating the details immediately. "It was a stupid mistake I made when I was young, an accident. I snuck out of the station, with two friends, and we opened the door at Botanicheskiy Sad because we wanted to see the surface… that's how they were able to get in."

"I see." Aleks replied quietly, not looking up at him.

Artyom paused, trying to judge the look on her face, trying to see if she had begun to spurn him for his stupid decisions and actions. He waited to see a trace of anger or disappointment but she showed only a kind of morbid curiosity, wanting him to continue talking. He knew exactly what he needed to tell her next and it wasn't going to be pleasant - but she had to know why the story was so important. How it all connected.

"Hunter came to Exhibition because of this threat. He was an old friend of my Uncle Sasha, but he came because of the Dark Ones. I didn't know him very well, but he came up to talk to me, like he knew what I had done back then. It was almost like blackmail, and I told him that secret that nobody else ever knew about the door at the Gardens. He was determined to go up there and see for himself. Then he made me promise to go to Polis and deliver his message, the cartridge, if he didn't make it back… and he didn't." Artyom stared at her, hoping she would finally say something; wondering if it was clear to her that he had also been somewhat close to Hunter, wondering if she would blame him for his disappearance and apparent death.

Aleks said nothing, instead covering her surprised open mouth with both hands, sending a twinge of humiliation through Artyom's heart.

"I-I don't know… what to say." Aleks mumbled through her fingers, her eyes glassed over, unblinking.

For a long time it was silent; Artyom was finally somewhat composed and Aleks had completely internalized her dialogue, taking her time absorbing this new history. Artyom waited, counting his heart beats with the seconds that passed, desperately hoping that she wasn't going to simply get up and leave and never speak to him again. He wouldn't blame her if she did, he felt absolutely despicable.

"If I could have another life and start all over again… do things differently—" He began to mutter incomprehensibly.

"No. We have to live with the way things are. So, who knows what really happened to him up there. He's gone now." Aleks let her hands fall into her lap and spoke quietly, not moving or even looking at him.

"I'm sorry." Artyom leaned over, wanting to take her hand as she had taken his in his fitful awakening, but didn't want to assume that she was ready to accept the gesture just now. But saying those words suddenly lifted a very heavy weight from his chest. He took a deep breath, amazed at the new sensation of clarity.

Several minutes passed in silence before he noticed that she hadn't spoken a word in response to his apology, as he had been wrapped up in the pleasurable feeling that his honesty had uncovered. He watched her as she rolled the dulled brass cartridge between her fingers, tears falling silently down her pale pink cheeks. The sight of her inner turmoil bubbling over became too much to bear, nearly reversing the moment of relief he experienced a few seconds ago. He couldn't hold back his burning curiosity any longer, he had to ask, he had to know – conversational formalities be damned.

"Were you and Hunter… in love?" He asked timidly, knowing how invasive his question was.

Aleks looked over at him with pleading and sorrowful eyes, still holding her cartridge tight in one fist. The absolute melancholy she expressed jumped into him when their eyes met, as if there was a direct connection between them.

"When we met, I never thought that… I mean, he… he really saved me. He taught me how to survive in this hostile world, how to think about it." She spoke slowly and quietly, as if choosing her words very carefully, her eyes still on the floor. "Yes, we…" Her voice faded, but Artyom understood what was left hanging in silence.

Artyom wasn't entirely surprised; he was somewhat relieved to hear her finally explain it. It revealed a lot about how she had acted and the things she had said when speaking about Hunter. Nearly everything she had done was in pursuit of him, of finding out what had happened to him.

"I'm sorry." Artyom said again in a low tone; it didn't feel nearly as fulfilling as the first time he'd said it. He fully understood now just how much he had altered her life. "I wish—"

"Things happen for a reason." She interjected; her tone of voice turned sharp and serious and she stared directly at him. "Everything happens in succession. The two of us, here, now, and talking about this – it is fate. The universe has brought us together for a purpose."

"What purpose?" Artyom raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully as she moved back to sit on her cot.

"That remains to be seen." She adjusted herself to sit on her cot and pressed her hands together between her knees tensely. "I don't think our alliance will come to an end upon reaching Polis. In fact, I may be there for a while."

Artyom wasn't quite sure how to interpret that news. It's not as if he hoped she would disappear from his life once they had returned to Polis, but at the same time he couldn't imagine her leaving her position in charge of Avtozavodskaya. It would also be difficult to explain to her that he would have to continue on to D6 and it was unlikely that she would be allowed to accompany him there.

"How long? What for?" He blurted, silently kicking himself for being so nosy.

"I'm not sure for how long… I don't even know if they know anything about me, if he ever told them who I am. He kept it a secret from everyone - Hunter made me promise that if anything happened to him that I should speak with the Colonel. It was very important to him." Aleks leaned forward as she talked, and Artyom soaked in her words like a dry sponge in a bowl of water. "I'm not just escorting you back for fun, he wanted me to go, understand?"

Artyom could only nod his head in response, tentatively lying down on his side. Aleks did the same, lying on her back with her hands stacked on her chest, staring at the ceiling of the tent deep in thought.

"We will get there, I promise, I will get you to Melnik myself." He mumbled as he pulled the stiff wool blanket over himself. He hoped he would be able to sleep peacefully now that he had gotten that unbelievable weight to lift from his chest. Reaching up, he began to turn the light out. "Thank you, for listening. Goodnight."

"Sleep well, now, Artyom." She said quietly as she closed her eyes and pulled her own blanket over herself.

The pair awoke to the deep metallic sound of a bell being rung several times throughout the station. Artyom figured it must be a bell to wake the workers for the day, or to signal the change of a shift. It could even be to announce the opening of the passage to Lubyanka and the Red Line, hopefully the line was short. Sitting up and stretching out her arms, Aleks gave a yawn.

"Good morning." Aleks looked over at him with a hopeful smile, her melancholy absent.

"Good morning." He confirmed with half a smile, as he sat up and reached for his jacket. Nightmares hadn't plagued him again that night, on the contrary he thought he remembered dreaming something pleasant but couldn't remember what. "What's the plan?"

"You can put on one uniform or the other; I'm not sure how the Reds treat Rangers these days. In any case, put your weapons into your bag, they will probably search us but at least we won't be suspicious carrying them in the open." She proceeded to get dressed in her own uniform, quickly donning her gray overshirt and adjusting the placement of her armored vest before lacing it up tightly.

Artyom opened the flap of his rucksack and reached for his blue Ranger uniform. He longed to put it on with his black vest and stroll proudly through the Red Line with his new identity, but took a long moment to weigh the possibility that they might restrict him from travel or worse. If he continued to wear the gray and green outfit that he had been given by Aleks then perhaps the Reds would just see them as simple travelers passing through and not read into their appearance. Then again, if they were to search his things and find his real uniform hidden away, what would they suspect about him then?

"I'm going to see if the checkpoint is open and get some fresh water, give you some time to get dressed." Aleks removed a slightly dented metal canteen from a pocket in the front of her rucksack and slipped her boots on without tying them. She left the tent and closed the flap behind her.

Artyom had ultimately decided to go along with the gray uniform, so it didn't take him long to get ready, but he took a while emptying out most of the contents of his rucksack to reorganize. He placed his Spartan uniform at the very bottom in case they checked bags at the customs table; hopefully they wouldn't look that deep, although his rank and title were now printed in his passport anyway. Next he placed inside his rifle and Senya's pistol in its holster, just now realizing that he would have to report the circumstances of the Ranger's death when he returned to D6.

Aleks and Valya had assured him twice that they had radioed to Polis that Artyom was at least alive and returning to them, but Artyom knew that Melnik would have a lot of questions for him. Ulman too, would certainly be curious as to what befell his partner in the days since he had been separated from the group at the church. A twinge of fear pulsed through him at the memory of their exit battle, but somewhere deep inside he knew that Ulman was alive.

He placed his helmet and extra filters in the bag last, packing it all up nicely and strapping the top flap closed. Adjusting the straps on the green body armor and straightening his collar, he was almost done tying his boots when Aleks returned.

"All clear, the line isn't long." She chirped, offering him some water from her canteen. He drank greedily, offering to refill it for her momentarily.

Aleks sat down and neatly tied her own boots and tucked the long laces into the sides. Forgoing her painted pauldrons and brown cape, she piled them into her bag. She double checked that her things were all accounted for, except for her canteen, and placed her weapons into the pack last.

"Are you ready to move out?" She asked, dragging her rucksack onto her shoulders.

Artyom nodded his head affirmatively and they left the tent, heading down the platform towards the main vestibule. The large station had been divided into different areas by manmade walls. The use of the tracks had only been preserved on one side, the other being completely walled off and out of sight. There weren't guards between the arches to the different sections, but there were several men in gray uniforms standing about randomly, each with a watchful eye on every inhabitant.

Both of them were in amazement of the smiths already working diligently at heavy wooden tables that were caged off behind fencing or bars made of iron. Sparks of both orange and a bluish white attracted their eyes and a symphony of hand tools could be heard all around them. Artyom thought it a noble trade to understand enough about firearms to manufacture them so precisely. However, the thought about resources came back into his mind again; when Aleks had been speaking of her displeasure about how even the few thousand survivors left fought amongst each other in the Metro. But weapons were necessary for other useful things, like hunting, and defense against mutants for sure.

Artyom quickly tried to put it all out of his head and only focus on the task at hand. He didn't want to let his mind wander too much and be caught in a philosophical internal debate, he had to keep his wits about him as they traversed through communist territory. It was only a few steps away.