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: "Losing Control" – Villain of the Story, "Torn Apart" – Tetrarch

Chapter 43: The Sparrow and the Sniper

It was almost completely dark after leaving the station, only a few dim yellow lights followed the tunnel towards this desolate spur of the Filyovskaya line. The private burial ground of the Order was the only feature in this direction because the tracks leading up to the surface had been cut off twenty years ago. They used to ascend into the sunlight, cross a long bridge over the river which meandered through the city, and continue onwards beyond the Garden Ring. Katya had been here before, on three occasions, for the only purpose that someone should be here for: a funeral.

She kept spacing her breaths along with her steps, eager to see what came of this 'intervention' as Melnik had called it. Yet, there was a heavy dose of apprehension attached to this terrible errand. She tried to imagine what exactly she would find when she arrived. Would he be angry? Would he be crying? Would he force her to leave without resolution? Would he be here at all? It was likely pointless to come up with a detailed plan for each of these possibilities but she couldn't help but consider them, at least to protect herself. If it turned out that the Sparrow was not in this dreadful place, it was simple enough to turn around and report back to the Commander. But then the search would begin again elsewhere and he would likely send her out for another attempt, and another, until this was finally settled.

No, it was most probable that she would indeed find him here. Aside from the other men on the assigned shifts with him, no one else had seen him anywhere, least of all his junior partner. Artyom said he hadn't even heard from Mikhail in days and that his barracks room had been vacant every time he had gone to check. Katya could hardly believe the rest of the details Artyom had given about what transpired on the railcar after they had rescued Aleksandrya. She could count on one hand the times she'd seen Mikhail upset or angry about anything, and it usually had to do with a mission. Though, there was that one time she had witnessed his fitful awakening from what seemed to be a nightmare. Now she thought she might know what the terror in his dreams had been about. Then there was the wistful way he gazed off in thought on his down time, those restrained sighs with hints of melancholy, and how he would almost completely shut down at times, sometimes on certain dates. Everything she had noted over the years was beginning to add up with the new shocking information, pulling these random facets together into a very sad picture.

So, what would she do upon reception of a given state? Anger was almost easy for her to diffuse, though she couldn't quite temper people as deftly as Ulman could – he had a natural gift. Her jovial personality was usually neutralizing enough in any kind of situation, putting people at ease or lifting their spirits. But she was sure that this situation would be completely unlike anything she had faced. There were only two other ways to distill anger into a useful channel: to produce an action which would absolve the feeling, or to dig for its deeper roots which usually stemmed from a different place entirely. Anger could come about from a feeling of powerlessness, as a defense mechanism to hide pain and sorrow, and it was a useful scapegoat for anxious energy to flow out of the body.

Katya was already certain that if Mikhail could have taken action to rectify his emotions, he would have done so already, and hiding didn't count. Maybe he didn't know what to do or was afraid to make a move. That left deciphering the underlying causes and effects of his outward portrayal, which was always more difficult to deal with. It was even more difficult to help someone else deal with those hidden afflictions when they were in denial. Hopefully he'd thought through a lot of this himself already, if he'd been isolating himself out here for the last few days. She could only hope that he hadn't shut down again, as it could be next to impossible to get him to open up if he wouldn't even converse with himself.

'Okay, no more hesitation, I'll deal with it minute by minute. I know he won't hurt me, I just don't want him to hurt himself,' she thought to herself as she paused and took a deep breath. The yellow lights that followed the tracks broke off and were replaced by a soldered together string of individual multi-colored bulbs. Someone had created this effect after the inaugural burial here, slowly adding on with each new addition, scrapping diodes from old electronics and long-dead cell phones. Most of the lights were blue or green but there were some white and red lights as well. It almost looked like Christmas time, and illuminated enough of this dark haven so that none of these people would feel alone.

She stepped carefully, quietly, just as she had been trained to do in hostile territory. There was a short section of an offshoot tunnel that opened a sizeable space with the collapsed far end supporting the growth of some spiraling kind of vines that crept along the walls and ceiling. Little stone markers were laid out in neat lines and she remembered exactly when they had placed the most recent one. There was a clearing in the middle of the area, leaving a place for those who were mourning to gather. And against the left wall was the Sparrow, sitting down with his legs drawn up and his head in his hands.

"Hey, Sparrow," she spoke quietly, trying to pick the right volume to announce her arrival but not startle him. He immediately tensed up and stared in her direction fearfully.

"Katya? What the hell? How did...?" He knew it was her because only she called him that all the time.

"How did I find your secret hideout?" She smiled innocently as she walked closer. "You can't keep everything to yourself."

"You're lucky I didn't fuckin' shoot you," he said with aggravation but his rifle was leaning against the wall, too. He didn't even reach for it.

"You wouldn't," she tried to convince both of them in a soft tone to mask the doubt.

"What do you want?" He turned his head away so she couldn't see him without the invisible mask. It wasn't as easy to take off and put on as it used to be. He had relied on this metaphysical entity that he created so heavily that it had almost taken control of him.

"I just want to talk," she held her hands out defensively, gauging his level of hostility.

"Well, I don't," he growled and crossed his arms. Wasn't that obvious to her?

"I think you do." She took another few steps. "I think you should. I think you need to."

Mikhail didn't reply, trying to emphasize his statement with his silence. How long would she stand there before she gave up and left? He started counting the seconds. Fourteen of them passed before she prompted him again.

"How come you aren't with her right now?" She thought she might as well let him know the reason she was trying to corner him.

He hesitated for ten more seconds before allowing himself to answer quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." If he denied it all, would she leave then?

"Ignoring the situation won't make it go away." She took another step. Denial wouldn't work. "Tell me what happened… tell me about her."

"It won't do any good." That was an admittance in itself. He cursed to himself for replying to her after saying that he wouldn't.

"It will make you feel better." She tried to convince him, standing right in front of him now.

"No, it definitely won't." That he was sure about. He'd been re-living the memories every waking minute since he saw her again. No, he'd been seeing it in his dreams, too. It was inescapable. And it had been absolute agony.

"Alright, we can just sit then." She lowered herself down next to him but not too close.

Mikhail kept his gaze away from her, he couldn't really tell her to leave because it was technically a public place but he wasn't going to talk openly either. He quickly figured out that Melnik must have told Katya about his confidential retreat but how did she get involved in any of this? She must have joined in with those who were caring for Sasha and they had probably told her all about his emotional display on the railcar. Did she come just to sympathize with him? Or did she want something? Would she say anything about how Sasha was doing? Did her condition get worse? Oh, God, please no. He tried to suppress more anxiety, opening his mouth to take quiet trembling breaths.

"You know, just because bad things have happened before doesn't mean it's always going to be that way," she cut the tension with her words and it thankfully severed his train of thought along with it. If she was bringing bad news, she wouldn't toy with him like this. Katya was a rather open and straight-forward type of person. Sometimes too open and straight-forward.

He let the words hang in the air, not willing to accept their truth or contemplate how it related to him. Countless experiences had already proved her statement to be wrong, at least most of the time. He had lost count of the seconds of silence he had been counting, could he start again? Maybe he should just be more clear, begin to push her away and deflect her questions and concerns, he was good at that.

"We can't all be as enthusiastic as you," he meant that as an insult.

"Is that what you think of me? I'm just a silly airheaded girl that doesn't know the meaning of darkness?" She turned towards him and leaned her head to the side, looking for his expression, pressing for his answer. 'Keep him talking, even if it's only a few words at a time,' she encouraged herself. It was time to draw him out of his thoughts by revealing her own horrible origins.

"I didn't say that…" he actually sounded apologetic; he'd been too harsh.

"Like I just said, it wasn't always like this. I'm enthusiastic because I'm thankful for the life I have now. I grew up in Shabolovskaya. There were bandits back then and there are still bandits now. I was five years old when the world ended. My mom wasn't with us, we never found her. My dad and my older brother were both dead by the time I was eleven; one to tuberculosis, the other to cancer. With no family left I was put to work, and you know there aren't many jobs that women are allowed to do... I was an apprentice to an escort, she was so kind to me but her life, her job, it was awful. I gradually learned all the tricks of the trade, and I mean all of them, but at least they let me turn fifteen before I had my own clients."

"You don't... need to tell me all this," he held up a hand as if to stop her. Anything to do with prostitution made his stomach turn. What a dreadful upbringing. At least his years growing up in the Metro were prosperous. In fact, he had quite an enjoyable life up until he joined the Resistance and ended up losing everything. How could Katya ever understand that?

"You're right, I don't need to tell you. I want to. Just shut up and listen," she held up her own hand and then rearranged her legs until she was faced directly at him. He couldn't escape. At least not until the story was over.

"Okay then," he added an uncomfortable sigh. Was she trying to get his story by telling her own? Was any of it even true? It had to be, because she'd cast off her effervescent outer shell and begun to show her true self. Everybody had their own secrets to keep, their own pain to hide.

"So, the sex was one thing, the cult leadership was another thing, half the time our station was starving or didn't have any power at all. Eventually, I got close with this one client, an older guy, Vassily. He wasn't so bad, really, but he had an unpredictable temper if he'd been drinking. Well, he promised he would secure my freedom. He'd pay to have me permanently, buying me like property. That was the only way out. I stayed with him and the rest of his little harem in a waystation between Oktyabrskaya and Venice for a year and a half. I got pregnant… and I lost the baby after two months. Not that I really wanted to have his child, mind you, but... it still felt like such a failure. My own body didn't even work right. That's what women are supposed to do and I couldn't do it." Katya picked out a small rock from the ground and turned it over in her hands thoughtfully, having an object to fidget with seemed to keep her calm while she was explaining all these grim experiences. Or maybe she'd told this story so many times that it didn't dredge up all the emotions that used to accompany it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. What else was there to say to all that?

"I drank a lot, did whatever drugs were offered, I didn't care anymore. I got really wasted one night, stole one of his guns, and I left without even saying anything. There was a passage that his other mistress used to take to get into these creepy old catacombs where some weird medicinal herbs would grow. It was close enough to the surface that you could climb up through the rubble and the vines. If I was going to die, if I was going to kill myself, I wanted to do it up there… where the sun was shining."

He took in a breath but didn't interrupt because he knew exactly what that felt like. He was trying to imagine the time frame that this all took place in because she was still so young, almost a full decade younger than he was, and she had already been through so much.

"Anna spotted me near the marshes, lost, delirious, about to be eaten by some mutants. She picked me up and taught me everything else. So, that's how I got here. Was I smiling back then?"

"I… no. I didn't know. I'm sorry that you went through all that," he put a hand on her shoulder awkwardly, daring to make a human connection only because it seemed appropriate. Her enlistment almost mirrored his own, joining this elite force at a time when they were probably the weakest they had ever been in their lives. It contradicted all rational reason, and yet here they were.

"You don't have to be sorry… but you owe me one now," her voice was still low and serious.

"One what?" He looked over at her suspiciously.

"One dark past."

"It's too complicated," he retracted his gesture, understanding that she was indeed looking for an exchange. A shitty story for another shitty story. But it wasn't a competition, and there was no judgement. Only the ghosts were listening, and they had the most tragic stories anyway.

"Give me anything. Tell me what they did to you. Tell me why you're here instead of—"

"You wanna know why I'm here?" He got to his feet instantly, something was stirring and he couldn't stay still any longer. He stepped into the middle of the tunnel and held his arms out. "Look around you! What do you see?"

"A graveyard," she said with a bit of sarcasm because it was already so obvious.

"You're surrounded by dead men, Katya, I'm no different from them!" He pointed to the ground.

"But… you… you're…?" She didn't know how to respond to that, she didn't understand it.

"Go on, say it. What is it you think you know about me? Hm? You don't want the answers you're asking for, I fuckin' promise you that!" The agitation was taking control and he couldn't fight it.

"I'm trying to help," she stood up and posed uncomfortably, not even looking at him, as if she was afraid. "I'm trying to help both of you."

"There's nothing you can—!" He tried to refute her offer but suddenly everything just stopped. The annoyance, the sobering regret, the weight of it all was overloading. His revulsion towards any kind of comfort dried up and the coin flipped to the other side. Katya wanted to listen, she wanted to know, no matter how bad the story was. She wanted to help. And he couldn't hold it in for even one more second. "I thought... oh, God."

She watched him curiously as he sank down to his knees, defeated. Take the mask off, you have to take the mask off! he screamed internally.

"I thought they shot her right after me!" The flood was rising in his eyes, Sasha was calling his name in his mind, a teardrop for every scream he remembered. Not the wall, please not the wall again. Katya came forward and crouched down to meet him in the middle of the dark and literal dead-end, holding out both hands if he wanted them but he was holding on to himself. "It's all my fault. It's all my..."

"It's okay," she tried to soothe him but she didn't know if anything would help. The picture was becoming more clear with each passing second. This was far more serious than she could have guessed, he would never let anyone see him like this. Was this what went on in his thoughts all the time? Is this what the nightmares were about?

"She was right there with me... I shouldn't have survived. I don't understand!" He put his hands over his ears as if there was a deafening sound. Katya put her arms around him gently. His mind was all over the place, not making full sense, but she could discern what was missing just by watching his tormented display.

"So that's why you freaked out on the railcar? I can't imagine… what you must have went through when you saw her again. And she thinks you're…?" She didn't want to say it out loud. So, that was it, Aleksandrya was at least nearby when the execution took place and Mikhail was told that she was next up on the chopping block.

It took a few minutes for him to start organizing what he wanted to say, he wanted to explain it better, he needed to skip forward to what was happening right now. If only he'd been able to keep it all contained on the railcar, but that was only wishful thinking and nowhere near possible. He was actually amazed that he hadn't made a further fool of himself then. What would Sasha have done if she had been conscious?

"I saw… when I saw her I… I tried to think about everything that was going around, all the rumors. I didn't know Aleks was… all the shit I ignored before... everything Artyom said about her. And they had her in the Second Unit... oh my God, they... fuck… did you see it? Did you see what they did to her?" He brought both hands together as if in a prayer over his nose and mouth.

"It's okay, she's going to be okay," she rubbed his arm rhythmically as he finally accepted some of her comfort.

"I should have been there, I should have seen her sooner, I should have gotten her back sooner! They… Varnayev, he… God… he was the one who gave the order… he was the one back then. Fuck. That goddamn motherfucker." The sorrow was evolving into anger but was that a good thing? Neither of them was sure.

"It will be okay, she's even awake now. She's starting to get better… and she's been saying your name," Katya dared to mention it but it didn't seem to have the desired effect.

"God, no… did she hear me that whole time? Please, no," his hands were praying again. Why was that upsetting? Why didn't he want her to know about him?

"Come back to the med bay with me," she thought she'd get the answer by making this request. Didn't he want to go see her?

"No. I can't... I can't do that. She'll only get worse." He took a few breaths and tried to slow down. "I couldn't help her then, and I can't help her now. Nothing I do will make it better. She needed me and I fucked it up in the worst way possible."

"She still needs you. You can make it right." Katya sat back on her heels and tried to give him options, he was still caught somewhere between eight years ago and today.

"No, she kept living… she's strong and I'm not. She lived and she moved on. I'm not going to put her through more shit after everything they just did to her. After everything I already did to her. I ruined everything. They took everything." He started to withdraw, his breath catching up with the flashing memories and turbid thoughts.

"Is it Hunter you're worried about?" Katya thought it might be detrimental to ask, but Mikhail was still too focused on the past and she had to try and get him to catch up with everyone else.

"He's going to come back," he said in a hollow tone. Even though he didn't really believe it anymore, he had to hold out hope, at least for Sasha's sake.

"Mischa..." she scolded delicately with his actual name. "He would have shown up by now. You know the rules. He's gone."

"He has to, she needs him!" he insisted.

"She needs you!" Katya tried one more time. Why couldn't Mikhail see the possibilities? Wouldn't he be overjoyed to have learned that she had survived, too? It was clear he still cared a great deal about her. Was he afraid of rejection? Did he still love her?

"It's not right," he didn't elaborate.

"You can make it right. Things can be good again. You need to move forward." Maybe someone just needed to say it to him straight for him to understand. "You can't keep living in the past."

"I'm not even living," he said darkly, seeming to have pushed the last of the emotions back into their cage.

"Not here, you're not," Katya tapped at his front armor plate and then gestured around them. He wasn't using his heart the right way and he was still hiding in this graveyard as if he belonged to it already.

"I won't make her go through this… after everything else… I'm not going to hurt her again. I refuse."

"I think you'll change your mind," Katya manifested out loud as she stood up. For right now at least, this was a lost cause. "And I hope it'll be soon."

"I won't. And if you tell her anything about—" he started to create the threat but didn't know what the punishment could possibly be if anyone did break that promise. But even if someone dared to tell her that he was still alive, that he was here in the Order, there was no way she would believe them, especially if he refused to show himself. Would he have to leave the Order and go somewhere else to keep avoiding her?

"Melnik expects you in his office at thirteen-hundred. Maybe you'll be able to make a better argument for him than you did for me. I know you want to go to her; you just need to stop lying to yourself." Katya brought out some malice. Maybe that would help to convey the gravity of the situation.

"Maybe," was the last thing he said, trying to convince himself as he got to his feet and turned his back to her. And she left him alone in the garden of bones with the rest of the ghosts.

She had been replaying everything she had just witnessed on the long walk back from Smolenskaya, trying to figure out how she would explain it to the Colonel. At least he already knew Mikhail's horrible story, so she wouldn't have to repeat anything about that. But trying to extrapolate any kind of meaning from all that emotional rambling as far as advancing their mission progress was difficult. Melnik had probably seen Mikhail like that before, so if she could try to describe some of it, he could probably pull deeper meaning from the subtleties. If nothing else, she could allow herself some solace that Melnik would be content with her effort and she wouldn't have to do that again. She took a deep breath before knocking on the Commander's office door.

"Enter!" the response resounded from within. She did as ordered, turning to close the door again and only taking one step into the room before stopping to gaze off in thought, the adjectives were running away.

"Returning with my report, as ordered, sir," Katya couldn't hide her fatigue and concern.

"Did you find him?" Melnik was afraid to ask, not sure what to make of Katya's reserved expression. He wouldn't tell her that he'd been pacing around the room anxiously the whole time she'd been gone, foregoing phone calls and other visitors to the office.

"Yes, he was there," Katya didn't give any hints yet, hoping her short answer would be enough proof that she hadn't been successful.

"Are you alright?" He wanted to be sure that nobody was negatively affected by this situation. Katya hadn't spoken of her origins very much either and he understood how traumatizing it could be just to explain a horrible event, let alone live through it.

"I'm fine myself, sir, I'm just worried for him. I've never seen him like that, seen anyone like that. He's in denial, he's stuck in the past," Katya caught her breath and tried to find a better way to explain. "I can tell he still really cares about Aleks but he's lying to himself. He's convinced that she moved on with her life… that Hunter is going to come back and…"

"I figured as much," Melnik sighed with regret. If he had known that Aleksandrya was Mikhail's Sasha, he never would have elaborated on that bullshit about Quantum Entanglement. "What did he say? What did he tell you?"

"He was… all over the place. He didn't want to say anything at first, so I did what you asked me to. A story for a story. He tried to deny everything to do with her but then he just kind of… broke down," she tensed up her face as she remembered his tearful display again.

"So, you know at least the basics?" Melnik prompted, still resolved to never give away Mikhail's story unless he told someone else himself.

"He said they were both… back then that Varnayev ordered them both to be executed. But they're still here, they're here with us, they just think… I don't know. Maybe they didn't do anything to her, I mean, she kept living there for a long time after he was gone… and that's how he got to Polis, right? That's why he lost his memory? They actually shot him," she finally looked up at the Colonel if only to see the truth in his response.

"Yes, they did. I didn't meet him until about two years after the doctors in Polis saved his life. As for her, well, it's hard to believe that both of them… usually Reich isn't in the business of killing women or children, misguided as they are. As far as I understand it, her mother was involved with someone from the Second Unit at the time. Perhaps they were able to commute her sentence or… they just let her live with the grief of it all." Melnik shook his head, only now beginning to consider how Aleksandrya might feel about any of this. He'd been concerned with her grief for Hunter that he'd almost forgotten about Mikhail. How did she feel about him?

"God, I just feel so bad for them. I don't understand why he won't go near her. Don't you think he'd be happy to know that she survived? That she's right here? Isn't that like, a miracle? It can't mean nothing," she stumbled forwards and sank down into one of the chairs.

"As you said, he's in denial. I understand that he doesn't want to cause her more pain when she's already gone through so much but I don't think it's right. Yes, there are a lot of tough feelings that will surface and swell if he came to see her but… I think they could get through it together."

"That's what I think, too. I mean, what else can we do? And we're just supposed to sit here knowing all this and not say anything? Watch her suffer all alone and watch him kill himself trying to stay away from her? I can't…" she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to think through to the end of those ideas.

"I can't either," Melnik confirmed quietly.

"So, what are you going to say to him when he gets here?" Was there something she could have said that would have been more effective?

"I'm not quite sure yet," he admitted with a sigh. It was all going to rely on the words he hadn't even invented yet. "We may not be able to fix this in one day, it might take a long time to get through to him."

"Well, maybe coming from you… maybe he'll listen," Katya wished out loud.

"We can only hope."

"Do you need anything else?" Katya was suddenly exhausted and wanted to be finished with this situation for the time being.

Melnik tapped his fingers on the desktop for a few seconds, coming up with the next step of the plan on the spot.

"Go down and get Artyom for me, send him up here and take over for him for a bit. Please." It wasn't an order but a request.

"Yes, sir, straight away." She rose from the seat swiftly and headed for the door.

"And the forbidden subjects still stand," he warned just to be clear.

"I understand." She turned back to look the Colonel in the eye to solidify the pledge, his worried expression had softened.

"You did well, Katya. It might not feel like it but you got him to take off the mask. That's an important first step. Don't lose hope. I'll take it from here." Melnik couldn't force his lips to smile but he was sure to express his appreciation and his optimism in the tone of his voice.

"Thank you, sir. And good luck to you."

Melnik only nodded his acknowledgement and Katya turned to leave him alone to prepare himself.

She closed the door again and hurried over to the darkest corner of the sector to collect herself before going down to the med bay. It seemed that some of the turbulent sorrow that the Sparrow let out had begun to seep into her. Why did it have to be this way? She suppressed her tears, not wanting to give the stubborn Ranger any kind of power over her. Sharing her story hadn't been as difficult as she thought it would be, even though she also didn't speak of her past much, that's not what she was upset about. No, it was the thought of walking into Aleksandrya's hospital room and pretending that she didn't know anything about her connection to Mikhail or about the awful tragedies they had been faced with while living together in the Reich. She sympathized heavily with Artyom; the poor guy had begun to pick this story apart the minute that they had rescued her. And Aleks had been understandably in such poor spirits, not just grieving for Hunter but compounding that loss with her continuing heartache over Mikhail. How could any of them maintain this stupid promise to keep this bottled up? Couldn't Aleks and Mikhail be happy again, even if they didn't get back together?

Taking some long, slow breaths, she began to compose herself and think about how she was going to need to act cheerful with a lot more effort today. What was she going to say to Aleks? Artyom might be caught up with the Colonel for a while. Could she keep this mask on the whole time? The same kind of mask that Melnik had just described? Had the Sparrow removed it from himself and accidentally given it to her?

"Katya? You okay? What happened? Where have you been?" Ulman noticed her from across the hall. Perfect, just what she needed.

"I'm fine, I…" she waved a hand at him but he pushed past it and drew her into his arms.

"Talk to me," he said soothingly.

"I just… you know everything with Aleks and… Melnik told me where to go to find Mischa and I…" the tears were rising up again, against her will. But maybe she should just get them out of the way now.

"What did he do? What did he say to you? I'll fuckin'—" his intrigue changed rapidly into spite.

"Nothing, no I mean, he didn't yell at me or anything… he just, he completely broke down. I got the whole awful story and… I just want to help them."

"I know. I've been trying to help, too," Ulman let his anger out in a breath. He stroked her short blonde hair and turned his body a bit, shielding her so no one could see either of them without the clown nose on.

"Yeah?" she asked hopefully. It made her feel better to know that there were so many people involved in this, they could all share the burden together, and work in unison to bring about a resolution. It couldn't stay like this forever.

"Well, not like you did, silly," he tried for a smile, remembering all the ridiculous things he told to Aleks to try to cheer her up last night. "Artyom and I went to tell Aleks a bunch of stories yesterday, get her mind off everything for a bit."

"Aww, that's so sweet," she stretched up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Well, I think it helped. Hope it did, anyway."

"I know it did. Especially if you told her that dumb spiderbug story," she teased with a smile.

"Hey, come on, it was kinda true!" He shrugged and looked at his watch. "Where are you headed? Do you want to have lunch with me?"

"I don't really have time," she grabbed his arm to check the time herself. "I have to get down to the med bay. Melnik wants to see Artyom before Sparrow shows up at thirteen-hundred. He said he'd be the 'last stop on the line' trying to convince him."

"Ah, shit," Ulman tried not to sound so uncertain, hoping to undo the manifestation with the popular gesture. "Fingers crossed. Well, stop with me on the way, you've got to take care of yourself, too."

"Alright," she conceded with another brief kiss and took the hand he offered as they set off across the bunker to the mess hall.

"On the eve of September 22nd, 1942, Zaytsev crossed the Volga River and joined the 1047th Rifle Regiment of the 284th Rifle Division of the 62nd Army. He made a name for himself during their first encounters with the enemy in the flame-lit city of Stalingrad. One day, his commanding officer pointed at an enemy officer in a window about 800 meters away. Zaytsev took aim with his standard-issue Mosin rifle, and—"

"Knock, knock!" Katya said cheerfully as she entered Aleks' hospital room.

"And she walks in all casual… where have you been?" Aleks asked sarcastically but then changed her face as she gestured to the new visitor and her casual attire. "Is that Ulman's sweatshirt?"

"You don't wanna know," Katya made a shocked kind of expression, seeming to answer both inquiries at once and then segued right into the purpose of her visit. "Melnik wants to see you, Artyom. Nothing bad, don't worry. I'll take care of her while you're away."

"You say don't worry and what do you think I'm going to do?" Artyom said uneasily as he set the volume aside. His heart pounded at the news but it was more because of his eagerness to have an update from the Commander about their secret mission. He was reasonably certain that was the cause of his summoning.

"I could use a shower, actually," Aleks leaned her head down to sniff herself.

"I guess it works out for everybody," Artyom said as he stood up from the chair abruptly. Sure, he'd gotten a lot more comfortable with Aleks but that kind of assistance wasn't anything he could or would provide. Leave it to the girls to do the grooming. He forced himself to latch on to the generic order that Katya had given, if Melnik wanted to see him then there was likely a major development on the Mikhail warfront and he was impatient to find out what progress they had made. Was there a way to get a hint from Katya before going up there? "How did your… mission… go, Katya?"

"Oh, not too bad," Katya side eyed Aleks and then looked back at Artyom before carefully choosing her next words. "I saw a sparrow in the graveyard, but it flew away."

"Hmm, sorry to hear that," Artyom tried to work out what she meant by that, but he was probably about to find out from Melnik. 'Saw a sparrow,' so she had finally found Mikhail? In a graveyard? On the surface? A real graveyard? Or was that a metaphor?

"I'm sure it'll come back," Katya tried to sound optimistic and smiled at him.

"What are you guys going on about?" Aleks interjected with intrigue but Artyom was already leaving the room.

"It was my turn to watch the listening post," Katya lied quickly, knowing Aleks wouldn't want to hear any more about it. "Let me go get the water started, I'll be right back."

"Okay," Aleks said uncertainly, beginning to shift herself to the end of the bed.

Artyom walked out of the room and down the hallway into the main artery of the med bay, turning to stop as he heard Katya trying to catch up with him. Maybe he'd get a few more details before heading up to the Colonel's office.

"So, you found him?" Artyom guessed hopefully.

"Yeah, I found him, but he's being stubborn. I guess Melnik is our last hope but that's who knows him best, anyway," Katya sighed heavily and crossed her arms.

"It's not like he can order Mikhail to come talk to her, right?" Artyom supposed, figuring that such kinds of personal matters didn't count as military orders. Where was that figurative line drawn?

"No, but he'll probably be able to make him see it more clearly. I can tell that he really wants to see her but he's afraid. He doesn't want to cause her more pain by reminding her of everything that happened back then, which I kinda understand but still… and maybe he's really more afraid that she won't be able to return his feelings. He's convinced that she moved on with Hunter and forgot about him or that she's mad at him for joining the Resistance or something. But I don't think that's true, how could she be mad about it?"

"Well, she said that she really missed him, she said he was everything to her. But she also said that the Nazis killed him. She still thinks he's dead… what are we going to do?"

"She finally said something about him? Maybe somebody ought to tell him that but even then, he might not believe it," Katya didn't answer the question, it seemed as if she already knew that part. So, she must have learned something about it but the people who knew the story still wouldn't share it with Artyom.

"Sorta. She said they almost got married eight years ago. And she finally said his name once."

"Wow, no way. No wonder," Katya was speechless, shaking her head solemnly and looking sympathetic.

"What are we going to do?" Artyom asked again but his mind was drawing a blank in that department. "He's hiding out somewhere and meanwhile she's here wanting to go die along with him! What if I do tell her about him? What do you think will happen?"

"How's she going to believe you if he won't visit her? That will only upset her more." Katya made too much sense. Mikhail had covered his tracks like that on purpose, that was how he was able to enforce the oath that he made everyone swear to.

"Damnit!" Artyom growled with all the frustration he'd been trying to hide from Aleks. "I want to talk to him."

"Go see Melnik," Katya looked over at the clock on the wall. Two more hours. "Mikhail was told to be there at thirteen-hundred so I bet he wants to brief you before then, maybe he wants you to be there, too."

"Alright," Artyom sighed heavily, trying to garner some strength for his appointment. "I better go, then."

"Me, too. Good luck, Artyom, I feel like it's all coming together."

"God, I hope so," Artyom clenched his fists. "I can't keep this up much longer."