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.

Song Recommendation: "Better" – Palisades, and "Bleed Out" – Within Temptation.

Chapter 38: Occam's Razor

"Get her plugged in! Nataliya, quickly now!"

"Yes, doctor!"

"Low respiratory rate, low blood pressure, low oh-two sat, low everything!" A third attendant called out, glancing frantically between the monitors and the patient.

"High pulse rate and temperature - thirty-nine point nine!" The nurse called out after attaching the appropriate apparatus.

"Tachycardia, anemia, okay… could be pulmonary edema from the exposure. I want a full panel on her and then check the donor list," the doctor commanded as he thought out loud.

"We've got head trauma, grade three concussive symptoms, radiation exposure, lacerations all over, and an acute knee injury," someone read aloud from Damir's notes.

"That's what Chyornyj reported to us before the fascists captured her," The doctor grumbled loudly.

"Then, they made it even worse!"

"Well, isn't that fuckin' refreshing?"

Colonel Melnik had continued to pace back and forth in front of the med bay doors for the last fifteen minutes. He might have already worn a hole in the floor down to the reactor level if he hadn't been called away on two occasions: first for a lengthy telephone conference where he had to explain their approach on Chekhovskaya without giving away its true purpose, and the other time was when Anna arrived with a document which likely detailed the success or failure of the other operations the Order was currently undertaking. 'While you were out,' it must have read at the top, and the Colonel at least stopped in his tracks to read it before taking Anna aside for a brief but private conversation. But here he was, pacing again, and not looking at Artyom who had squatted down against the wall a while ago.

Whatever they were doing in there was taking too long. Damir had given Artyom a brief outline of the upcoming procedures, but he was a field medic, not a doctor. He'd followed Mikhail and Ulman inside to give his immediate report and readings, and then headed off to assist with another group's mission.

"They're going to run all sorts of tests, take blood samples, try to balance the numbers, and bring the fever down. Once she's all good internally, then they'll tend to the injuries. They'll do x-rays of her leg, head, and neck, maybe the thoracic cavity, and bandage it up accordingly. Be glad they built a whole laboratory and hospital into this bunker cause even Polis doesn't have some of the stuff we do now. Keep your spirits up, Artyom."

And Artyom was trying to keep them up. He held steadfast onto the little knot of doubt that believed that anything was going to get worse. It was the opposite of the usual; he was convinced that she was going to be okay, and hopefully soon. He could picture himself talking to her again, seeing her smile, telling her all the steps they had taken to get her back. She would be proud of him for everything he had done to rescue her. And he had to return Hunter's cartridge and the Vintorez. Keep holding on to those thoughts, it will all happen soon. She'll be okay. She will. She's strong.

He looked up at the Colonel again, still restless. What was he waiting here for? He was usually swamped with paperwork, meetings, briefings and debriefings, or going on his own missions. Aleksandrya really had taken top priority and Artyom was both amazed and proud. He had found her in the first place, he had brought her here to D6, he had convinced everyone how genuine she was, and how important. Someone had finally listened to what he had to say. Although, it was probably really Hunter's note from beyond the grave which convinced the Colonel to begin the operation. Would Melnik be upset with her? No, he probably felt just as guilty about her capture as Artyom did, and Artyom had accused the Colonel of sending her into dangerous territory purposefully. The Commander probably had a lot of questions for her, too. If she remembered anything from inside the Second Unit then he'd probably want her to write down as much of it as possible. Maybe his lingering had more to do with the properties of the entanglement that supposedly bound Aleksandrya to Hunter?

'You think by saving her, he'll somehow come back too?' Ulman had asked of the Colonel just before they initiated their journey to retrieve her. Even the comedian was slowly losing hope that Hunter would reappear. Like it or not, life had to continue, with or without him. Artyom was still unsure of his stance on the matter. He always tried not to imagine that Hunter met with a gruesome fate on the surface at the hands of the Dark Ones, directly or otherwise. He wanted to keep believing that his mentor, his role model, would turn up at some point - especially for Aleksandrya's sake, because he could feel the weight of her grief every time she spoke about him. 'What if he was still there, in their nest, during the missile strike?' Whatever happened, he should have come back by now. As for the Colonel's opinion, everyone could feel it beginning to wane. He wouldn't admit to anything one way or the other even if someone dared to ask him directly. Of course, he wanted to find out the answer to the mystery, he wanted to have some kind of proof. But if Hunter's body had been annihilated or mutated or consumed by the creatures who roamed the desolate landscape, how were they supposed to know about it?

Artyom was sure that he himself was out of range of Melnik's sights. If the Colonel was upset with him for anything, he would have heard about it by now. Still, he did feel somewhat responsible for this whole ordeal. He and Aleks had wasted time arguing about what they had seen on the surface, whether it was enough information from a cursory glance at the listening post to be worthwhile enough to report back with. She wanted to wait, she wanted to do more. She wanted to see if Andrei Ivanovich really had returned to the Reich. Would she be able to believe that Ivanovich had betrayed her as well as facilitated her escape for a second time? They wouldn't have been nearly as swift or efficient in rescuing her if it wasn't for his interference from the inside. Artyom was willing to give the man all the credit he was due. He had assisted with Aleksandrya's getaway from Reich three years ago and had done it all again just now. Whatever the reason was that he returned to serve the fascists, it didn't have anything to do with Aleks. Maybe those answers were in the little note that he'd found in her hair clip; he still hadn't looked at it because it seemed that it was probably addressed to her and he wasn't about to go prying into her business any further. She would tell him about it if she wanted to.

The double sliding doors of the med bay squeaked open and Artyom and the Colonel both perked up. A stocky man with a neatly trimmed beard and a not-so-white lab coat suddenly emerged and signaled to the Colonel to follow him inside. Melnik acknowledged him readily and Artyom thought he was about to be excluded from the update but the Commander glanced sideways at him and then nodded towards the med bay as a sign that he should go in first. So, he obeyed the unspoken order. They followed the… doctor? into the med bay and then around the left corner into a small, enclosed office.

"Don't sugarcoat it, Pyotr. How is she?" Melnik began with a stern warning, closing the door behind them all and not venturing to take a seat even though the doctor did so behind his cluttered desk.

"It was definitely touch-and-go for a bit there but we finally got her stabilized. All her stats were in the trash, you got her just in time." The man reported bluntly, there was no trace of any emotion on his face.

"Thank God," Melnik sighed with a bit of relief. He wasn't a religious man. Artyom had been holding his breath for the answer and sighed along with the Colonel and then found a chair for himself. "How's the general prognosis?"

"Under our watchful eye, she should end up okay." Damned doctors never wanted to promise anything one way or the other. At least it sounded mostly positive. "It's going to be a long road but we've got a good team here with the joint task force. I've got all our best people on the ICU and the stuff we found in the laboratory down here is going to make a huge difference."

So, there was at least some kind of stockpile of medications in D6 after all, Artyom thought to himself. What do you use to treat radiation?

"Do we have a timeframe for her recovery?" Melnik was pacing again, though not as quickly because it was a small room.

"I can give you a copy of the write-up but it's a long list. There's a lot of factors to consider, so right now it's a waiting game to see what plays out." The doctor shuffled some papers around in search of the correct file.

"What's the short version?" The Colonel stopped next to Artyom but still didn't sit down.

"From the top down? Mild posterior cranial fracture from blunt trauma, subsequent grade three concussion, bruised anterior ribs, left tibial fracture with ligament tearing, and superficial lacerations all over. We'll likely need to go in for surgery on the knee, especially if she develops compartment syndrome, but it's risky to overload her right now, the anesthesia could depress her system to a dangerous range. What else… Electrolytes were all out-of-whack, fever is coming under control, we averted septicemia by a hair, acute radiation syndrome whose severity is as-yet to be determined. And," The doctor hesitated, trying to make a facial expression that neither Artyom nor the Colonel could decipher. What the hell else could he possibly add to the list? No, it's better not to ask that kind of question. Finally, he just let them have it straight. "There are signs of sexual abuse as well. And none of this accounts for the psychological damage."

"Fuck," Melnik said as quietly as possible but Artyom still heard it. That wasn't a short list at all. He felt his heart drop into his stomach. As if all the rest of her injuries weren't enough, they had violated her too? Now he wished he had aimed a little bit lower when firing blindly towards the officers of the Second Unit.

"Goddamn bastards," Artyom seethed lowly. Melnik put a heavy hand on his shoulder as if to agree and then pinched the bridge of his nose uncomfortably.

"Alright, Artyom here is going to be her proxy and he's got total access. Only he, myself, and Lieutenant Vorobyov are to be admitted until further notice. For anything… erm, gender-specific you can call on Anya and Katya. If she wakes up, or God-forbid takes a turn, you call me immediately. Understood?"

"You got it Colonel."

And there was another piece of the puzzle, Artyom had no idea that Mikhail possessed the rank of Lieutenant. Should he have been more formal when interacting with him? Where was he, anyway? They had seen him rush off somewhere after carrying Aleksandrya into the med bay. Maybe he should go check on him?

"Get yourself a meal and a good book, Artyom, it's going to be a long day," Melnik commanded gently with another deep regretful sigh. "I've got to go and de-brief Bravo team but I'll try to check in later."

"Yes, sir." Artyom only nodded strongly because it was improper to salute in such close quarters and Melnik had already given up on formality. "You should have something to eat yourself, sir."

"I'll see to it," the Commander accepted flatly, patting Artyom's shoulder one more time before making his exit. Artyom stayed seated for a minute, looking at the doctor. Should he introduce himself a little better if he was going to be posted here? Would he need to sign any kind of official documents in order to fulfill his duties of medical proxy? What kind of decisions would he need to make on her behalf? Did anything else need to be said right now?

"When you get back, Nataliya will show you to her room. It'll be good to have someone in there watching over her closely. You holler if anything changes, they'll tell you what all the beeps mean." Pyotr the doctor spoke encouragingly. "She's not in a coma but you can still talk to her, it'll help."

"Okay… thanks," Artyom confirmed with a blank expression, trying not to think about the list of injuries and maladies that Pyotr had rattled off. He stood up slowly and headed for the mess hall even though he didn't feel hungry.

There were only a few small groupings of people seated throughout the mess hall. It was between breakfast and lunch hours so most people were already sated. Ulman acknowledged Artyom's arrival with a wave before turning back to his bowl of gruel, nobody else from the rescue mission or strategizing conference were present. At least he could always count on Ulman to be in the vicinity of the dining hall, hopefully the comedian's voracious appetite would rub off on him. He filled his tray almost blindly, a little of everything, and he leaned on his toes to see if Aleks' friend Katya was in the back kitchen but there was some other girl on duty.

"Hey Artyom, how are you holding up?" Ulman asked as Artyom sat down across the table from him with a tray of pork cutlets and baked beans.

"She's… okay for now," Artyom gazed off behind his former partner and sipped his glass of water.

"I asked about you," Ulman stressed with a smile, leaning his head in to try and get Artyom's attention.

"I'm… I don't know. Melnik and I just got the diagnosis. It's pretty bad and I… feel like it's my fault."

"Now don't go blaming yourself for the building collapsing, there's no way you could have known that would happen. You did great getting back here quickly and riling everybody up."

"You heard about that, too, huh?" Artyom wasn't surprised.

"Yeah, Tokarev and I were just catching up, he was in the group going to Kremlin. He was pretty impressed with your negotiating skills," Ulman gestured to a bald-headed man sitting across the room with another group but Artyom didn't know him. "Wish I'd been there to see you shouting at the Colonel."

"Negotiating? More like infantile babbling, shameless begging, verbal vomiting," Artyom insulted himself.

"Well, whatever it was, you showed how passionate you are about her and reminded everybody why its so important to look out for our own."

"Of course, I'm passionate, those Nazi fucks were ready to kill her right there in the square! And you saw her in the cell, fucking bastards tied her up and violated her in every way possible," Artyom tried not to yell for the whole room to hear, lowering his voice to a growl. "If I ever see that Varnayev guy."

"You like her," Ulman suddenly accused with a warm smile, raising his bowl to slurp down the remainder of the broth.

"What? No, I… no, not like that. I just care," Artyom calmed himself back down and then shoved a large forkful of pork into his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk for a minute.

"Are you sure?" Ulman raised an eyebrow.

Artyom actually did stop to think about it while he chewed. Aleksandrya was beautiful and smart and strong, but that kind of evolution in their relationship had never clicked over to the parallel track of romance. And it didn't need to. No, he wasn't obsessed with her, or attracted to her in that way, he had just confused his intrigue about her with puppy love for a little while.

"I'm sure. I'm not in love with her, I just care, and what's wrong with that?" He frowned.

"Well, I guess her heart is already a bit crowded at the moment," Ulman looked off in thought, supporting his bearded chin with his hand.

Artyom considered the statement. Hunter's implication was obvious but then Mikhail had just revealed that he had history with her, too. A history that seemed rather serious at one point, even if it had been a decade ago. The blonde Ranger had fallen headfirst into a state of petrified disturbance and hadn't fully made sense when he was telling his story about her.

"Do you know what happened with them? In Reich? Did you see the way he freaked out like that? Do you think he's still in love with her or something?" Artyom asked all at once.

"No idea."

"I thought you two were friends?" Ulman always called Mikhail by his diminutive name and only good friends and family did that.

"Yeah, but he doesn't talk about his past in detail and I can't really blame him from the bits that I've heard about the Honor Guard and whatnot. Lotta guys from the factions are like that, though." Ulman looked around as if Mikhail might be right behind him and feel offended by what he was saying. "Only Melnik knows his whole story, he was there when the poor guy started to remember everything. Something happened there in Reich, they did something bad to him, somehow he got out and he was in Polis for a while, and then he was with us. He had some memory loss about it and then something triggered him. So, I guess that's why he didn't think anything about the name when it came to Aleks."

"Fuck," Artyom said in a similar way that Melnik had done for Aleks earlier. How were people able to survive such horrible things? Why did the Nazis have to be so brutal? How could anybody stand to live there at all? Did they treat all their citizens like that, or just the ones who didn't agree with them? Mikhail must have been in the Resistance himself, that's how he knew so much about it. Had they found him out and ex-communicated him? 'It wasn't planned out or organized in any way.'

"Actually, Hunter was Mikhail's senior partner for a while, got him up to speed again. Took me years of joint missions before he opened up at all. He barely even talked for the first year he was with us… kinda like you," Ulman prodded with an accusing laugh.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like for them," Artyom's area of focus was still the Fourth Reich.

"Yeah, the fascists are assholes for sure, but what else is new?" Ulman stood up and reached across the table to give Artyom a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Hey, I've got to head over to the debriefing, but I'll be around if you need me."

"Thanks, I'll be in the med bay until she wakes up," Artyom nodded politely, and then set about finishing his breakfast as quickly as possible so he could get back over there.

"Here's hoping it'll be soon," Ulman said reassuringly, he also seemed certain that everything would be okay.

In his bunk room, Artyom changed clothes quickly, laying his sweaty stealth uniform over the back of the chair. He'd deal with laundry later. For now, he just wanted to wear something comfortable because he might be waiting a long time for Aleks to wake up. Nobody had said exactly why she was unconscious, from the concussion he guessed? But then he was certain that he'd heard that you were supposed to keep someone with a concussion awake and not let them fall asleep. So, which was correct? Maybe it was okay for her to sleep now that she was in the hospital where they could tell if something else went wrong. She would definitely need plenty of rest in order to recover from all the other afflictions she had endured. A skull fracture, posterior meant the back of the head, was that from the building collapse or the fascists? Aleks had insisted on not wearing a helmet during their reconnaissance mission, maybe he should have been more persistent with her. And there he was, blaming himself again.

He shook the thoughts away, focus on what you're doing. He chose a pale blue long sleeved shirt and simply exchanged his cargo pants for a regular camouflage pair, he didn't have too many items of civilian clothing but it's not like he really needed a big wardrobe. Lacing up his clean pair of boots, he set the old pair on the radiator like always and then went over to the shelf above his desk. What to bring for entertainment? Maybe something cheerful that he could read aloud to her? But nothing too childish. Most of his volumes were educational in nature, he loved to discover new things about all sorts of topics, jealous of so many others who had received a more formal education either before the end of the world or since. Upon inspection he saw that he only had one fiction book and it was some adventure novel about pirates on the high seas. Well, it wouldn't be a terrible choice, he supposed, and he had only gotten a few chapters in during his spare time. He plucked it off the shelf and tucked it under his arm, turning out the light as he left the room.

Just before leaving the barracks, he remembered that he wanted to check on Mikhail. Would he be in his room? Maybe he was also at the debriefing meeting with everyone else from the rescue mission, but just in case… He quickly ascended the stairs to the upper level, making his way along the narrow walkway that overlapped the floor below. The door to Mikhail's bunk room was closed. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing. Was it locked? He pulled on the door gently, it was dark inside, and silent.

"Mikhail?" Artyom called quietly but his partner wasn't there.

He closed the door again, hoping the agitated Ranger was alright wherever he was. The last thing Mikhail had said to anyone in their squad was a forceful request that he made everyone swear to.

'Please, don't say anything about me, it's only going to make it worse for her.' And yet the emotional soldier hadn't hesitated to lift Aleks from the railcar and carry her the entire way to D6 all on his own. What if she'd already seen him? What if she heard what they were talking about and just couldn't respond at the time? The doctor said she wasn't in a coma but she didn't seem to have any idea what had gone on around her. For all she knew, she was still in that cold dark prison cell underneath Tverskaya.

Artyom shook his head again, he had sworn not to say anything and he aimed to keep that promise. Trusting that Mikhail would visit her on his own time and terms, he tried to forget about it for now. Colonel Melnik had listed only the three of them to be allowed to see Aleks, so maybe Mikhail was waiting for her to recover more before venturing what would likely be a tense reintroduction. With no sign of his partner, Artyom aimed to go and make up for his own perceived bad history with her.

Reentering the med bay, he stopped just inside and glanced around. Who was Nataliya? Where was he supposed to go? Straight ahead there was a tall, curved counter, looking more like the registration desk of a hotel. He figured he should start there. A beautiful middle-aged woman with dark hair tied up into a bun was sitting behind the desk and looking thoughtfully between some paperwork and a glowing screen.

"Uh, hello," Artyom started to introduce himself. "I'm Artyom Alekseyevich, are you—?"

"Ah, you're here for Miss Dmitriyeva… no, Dmitriyev? We keep wondering why her surname is masculine, do you know?" The nurse looked up at him thoughtfully but then shook her head and blinked her eyes a few times. She looked tired. "Oh, never mind, sorry, don't listen to me it's not important. Come this way, dear."

Artyom contemplated her question anyway, he'd wondered about her name way back when they met but he had already gotten used to her other eccentricities and there had been far more important things revealed throughout their relationship that names barely mattered anymore. He never even asked why nobody called her Sasha, as that was usually the appropriate nickname for Aleksandra. He had chalked it up to her secretive leadership of The Red Arrow, trying to keep her name and gender anonymous or at the least ambiguous. Her patronymic and surname could possibly be fake ones that Hunter or the Polis leadership created for her diplomatic protection. Maybe he could finally ask her about it all when she awoke.

The nurse, who was indeed the Nataliya that had been spoken of earlier, led him to the rear of the sector where there was a short hallway of small rooms similar to the barracks. The first one on the left had been designated for Aleks. The closer, the more serious their condition, Artyom thought ominously. No, it was probably just random. Or perhaps the other rooms were currently empty and she was their only critical patient at the moment, and why stick her so far away if they needed to check on her often. That must be it. 'Don't be so grim, you're going to rub off on her,' he thought.

"This one is her pulse rate, you'll hear that the most. If it goes above a certain range, it will make an alarm. This here is for blood pressure, it cycles automatically every…" The nurse was explaining each wire and display that was hooked up to her, but Artyom didn't really understand it all.

He was assured that if anything beeped too loudly for more than a few seconds, someone would be rushing in to check on it anyway. So, what was he really here for? To keep her company, so that someone she recognized would be present when she awoke. Otherwise, she might believe that she was just in some new realm of torture in the Reich.

"Got all that, dear?" Nataliya put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him from his daydream.

"Yes, ma'am, sorry," Artyom nodded.

"It's nice of you to stay with her. And have you had your own bandages changed out recently?" The nurse looked down at his legs knowingly.

"Uh, no ma'am," he admitted reluctantly. Nataliya must have also been here when he was getting his own wounds mended. That's right, she took all his vital signs before the male medic took over.

"How about blood donation? You're a compatible type for her, would you be willing?"

"Yes, of course, sign me up," Artyom nodded again, wondering which blood type Aleks was. What were they giving her blood for? Did she lose a lot from her injuries? Was it to help with the mystery infection?

"I'll swing back by in a bit and we'll take care of you, too, okay?" Nataliya smiled through her fatigue.

"Thank you, ma'am, I'll be right here." Artyom took a seat in the chair closest to the bed as a signal that he was done talking. He heard her light footsteps moving away in a hurry, there was someone else she could check on.

Other than the monitors and the furniture, there wasn't anything else in the room. A long bar of fluorescent light on the ceiling hummed lowly and gave a bluish glow to the room, not too bright but still enough to see clearly. There was a curtain which could be pulled along a track to give the patient privacy, and a small white metal cabinet was on the wall near the door. The large bed with wheels and rails on the sides took up most of the space, it was situated so that the medical staff could access both sides of her if necessary. There was a tall pole on the opposite side of the bed with a hook holding up a new plastic baggie of clear fluid. A tube from it hung down and attached to an apparatus which was taped onto Aleks' left arm, feeding her constantly with fluids and likely some other kinds of medicine mixed in. Something to kill the pain, something to fight infection, something to give her the nutrients she was missing from not being able to eat. How long could somebody live off just that kind of thing? Did you really never have to move, or eat, or drink, and still be able to exist? What a stupid idea, he told himself, we need to stay positive.

He continued to look her over closely; her face was swollen and blotches of a purple-red shade highlighted her cheekbones and jaw, her eyes were sallow and sunken despite her restful state. Her lips were chapped and cracked, the bottom one had a split that had scabbed over. Large oval-shaped marks were on both sides of her neck, lined up in a row and overlapping in colors of purple and yellow. They looked like, 'Fingerprints,' Artyom thought, horrified. A thick woven blanket covered her, although her arms were above it so that the IV, pulse reader, and blood pressure cuff could do their jobs unhindered. There were light pink irregular scratches on one of her thin pale arms, and still a few smears of greyish dirt, though she wasn't nearly as filthy as she was in the cell. He could tell that there was some new kind of splint built around her left knee because the blanket was lumpy there. Her bed was half-reclined and she was almost completely motionless except for the gentle cycle of her breathing. At least there was that.

"God, Aleks, what did they do to you?" Artyom mused aloud quietly.

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that, rabbit," Anna stepped up behind him, he hadn't heard her approach, she really was quite stealthy. Her voice initially conveyed her usual style of irritation but having looked over at Aleksandrya, her tone softened. "And you shouldn't ever ask her."

"W-what are you doing here?" Artyom stammered, rising from his chair and trying not to look so emotional and bewildered.

"I came to donate. With my blood type I can give to everybody, so I come in here whenever I can spare it," Anna raised her arm to show a fresh bandage. The sleeves of her casual shirt were cut off, so she was off duty and visiting on her own time. "And you?"

"I'm assigned here, they said it's good to talk out loud to her. But I also wanted to… apologize to her," Artyom looked back over at Aleks' sleeping form with regret and sympathy.

"Oh," Anna said quietly, stepping a little closer. "That's...nice of you. I could tell how much you cared about her when you called in."

"Yeah," Artyom responded blankly, suddenly recalling the overheard conversation between Aleks and Anna a few days ago. Aleks had been passionate about him, too, explaining to Anna how thoughtful and kindhearted he was. And Anna had called him handsome, he tried not to dwell on the idea. There was silence for a moment between them, only the light beeping of the monitors and the dripping of the IV echoed.

"You don't need to apologize for anything. It was an accident. There's nothing you could have done."

"But she..." Artyom hung his head, "She went through so much. The doctor said that they…" He couldn't say it out loud to another person, let alone another woman. Anna seemed to know exactly what subject he was avoiding.

"And if I ever see that Varnayev guy, I'll shoot him twice, don't worry about that." Anna narrowed her eyes and grumbled confidently.

"I wish I had known about her family, about her history; I never would have let her go anywhere near their outpost. They remembered her, they recognized her immediately."

"I can understand why she kept a secret like that for so long, and why Hunter never told anybody about her."

"He tried so hard to protect her and I messed it all up in a matter of days." Artyom insulted himself again.

"It's done now. Alright?" Anna put a comforting hand on his arm. "You did a good job getting her back here again. Let's just focus on helping her heal."

"Alright," Artyom agreed, frozen at the unfamiliar touch.

"Katya should be back from her mission by seventeen-thirty. We thought we'd help bathe her, brush her hair and all that. You can take a dinner break while we do."

"That's… nice of you." Artyom repeated her earlier compliment.

"It's going to take all of us to help her through this," Anna started to walk away slowly but then paused just before she reached the door, looking back at Aleks and then at Artyom. "I don't think Hunter is coming back."

"I don't think so either," Artyom finally said it out loud, trying with difficulty to look Anna in the eyes.

"My father wants to start planning his funeral, so everybody can pay their respects and move on. He was going to ask her about it but I guess it's going to have to wait a while now. Try not to mention him if she wakes up, 'kay?"

"I won't," Artyom looked back at Aleks again, he thought she might be hearing them somehow anyway.

"I'll be back later," Anna didn't wait for another response.

Alone with her again, Artyom began to formulate his apology. There was so much to say. Even though everyone kept telling him that it wasn't his fault, he needed to sort it all out for himself. Verbalizing things out loud also helped a lot when you had too many words and not enough brain space for them. Start at the beginning, go back, to the situation room where they had been briefed by the Colonel just before their surface mission.

'What were you about to say to Melnik back there?' he had asked.

'I'll tell you later,' Aleks had replied curtly.

"It was about your family, wasn't it? The family you don't even want or like. You were going to tell Melnik yourself, just in case something happened," Artyom thought out loud. "I know you wanted to tell both of us but you couldn't, and I don't blame you. If I were you, I wouldn't want to tell anybody either. That kind of secret, it must have weighed so much."

He sat back down in the chair by the bed, pulling it up closer so he could look her in the face while he said what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you outside Mayakovskaya. You were right, you were right about the sentry and about the things that needed to be done. When I went back there, he was gone, there was no trace of him and nobody said anything. That Vintorez… it makes everything so easy."

Aleksandrya's eyelids twitched, the pulse beeps sped up, Artyom looked at the monitors but couldn't understand their readings.

"Aleks? Can you hear me? I'm here, it's Artyom." He leaned in over her, speaking as soothingly as he could.

"Ar… t'm…" she mumbled almost inaudibly. The beeping increased again and then it became a different louder noise, her chest moved faster, her fingers contracted and gripped at the blanket. "I'm… so-rry."