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: "Leaving This World Behind" – Starset (I can't wait to see them in Boston this May!), "Daylight" – Shinedown
Chapter Forty-Six: Catching Up Pt. 2
"I'll return in two hours with dinner," Nataliya stated precisely, smiling serenely again as she began to walk away and close the door. "And I'll ask Doctor Orlov if you can skip the sedative tonight."
"Thank you, Nataliya!" Sasha was sure to express her gratitude loud enough to be heard in the hall.
Mikhail looked over at her with a hint of curious concern, questioning again what exactly they might be rebuilding in this small space. It seemed that she really wanted him to stay here and would have either fought for that desire or broken down trying. And they had been giving her sedatives along with everything else she had just swallowed, so maybe that's why she sounded so tired earlier? Or was it all the anguish and memories of the Second Unit that weighed on her mind? Even though they'd been emotional as they tried to catch up on eight years of separation, the dark thoughts didn't seem to be dragging either of them down quite as much since they had continued conversing with each other. Did that mean that everything would be okay? They really could get through all of this together. There might still be a chance at happiness. He wanted to trust in the dream; he kept hoping.
"I can't believe they're letting you stay," she laid her head against his shoulder again. He couldn't believe it either.
"If it's okay with you…?" He tried to lead her into a more specific type of response.
"Please?" But she didn't need to ask.
"Of course, I'll stay," he kissed the top of her head again and the doubts continued to fade. If she really had no romantic interest left in him then why had she let him stay so close for the past few hours? Why would she continue to hug him, lean on him, and hold his hand? She asked him to stay here with her. If all hope was lost for the future, she would have pushed back already. She would have said something, right?
"Wait but don't you have to work?" She pulled away from his arms and looked at him inquisitively.
"Ah… I'm on leave, actually… sort of against my will," he ventured a slight smile to show his understanding that Melnik had been right about it. Even Nataliya had just noted the precariousness of his mental state over the last few days. Mikhail was thankful for any sort of time off but it was extra special to spend it with her, and because of her. But he also began to wonder how long it would be until he was needed for something again. And had Arseniy been reassigned to a different senior partner?
"What? What happened? Are you okay?" Sasha sat up and looked over him with concern. Maybe she had just decoded what Nataliya said to him about being admitted.
"You happened." His smile grew immensely as he took hold of one of her hands.
She only looked back at him quizzically, still not understanding. He was going to have to explain all his nonsensical fears.
"I should have just…" he was getting sick of all the 'should have's' so he paused and thought of another way to word it. "I've been… not doing well. Especially the last few days… I was really hung up on… I was afraid to come and see you."
"What? Why?"
"I thought… all kinds of stupid fuckin' things. I was afraid that you might have forgotten about me, because I forgot about you… and maybe you even tried to forget about it on purpose. I thought maybe, after what happened, that you'd come to blame me for everything and I still wouldn't even argue with that." It was difficult to explain this to her so delicately but he was still smiling, somewhat amused at his own foolishness because none of these fears were anywhere near correct. They had been completely honest with each other so far, he wanted to keep it going that way.
"Mischa…" she said breathlessly, squeezing his hand with both of her own. "Of course, I don't. How could I blame you for anything? That's awful. Not a single day went by that I didn't think of you. There's no way I could forget, no way I would try to. I even have your picture, still. And I wore this every day," she pulled at the tail end of the red shemagh, that part he had known already.
"That's really nice to hear, but… there's more…" he sighed and the smile faded despite her wonderful reassurance. He had begun to believe that he could get away with never having to tell her all this but then again if they were really going to move forward with their lives then he didn't want there to be any secrets, nothing held back. "I heard the ridiculous rumors along with everyone else when you showed up, that you were here because of Hunter. It didn't matter at the time because I didn't know it was you, but after we rescued you, everything connected together and… I thought you… didn't need me anymore."
"You thought I wouldn't want to see you? Because of him? I'm so sorry," she coiled both of her arms around one of his and hugged it. Her response didn't confirm whether or not she had any hope that Hunter would return but she might never clarify her feelings about him.
"Well, I know how stupid it was, looking back. Everybody was right, I should have listened to them from the start," there he went again. There was no changing the past. 'You need to move forward,' Katya had said. She was right. "I really wanted to be by your side the whole time, I just… couldn't see straight. There's been… so much darkness. I don't even know how I've been able to get anything done around here. They should never have let me in the Order at all. I've been like a shadow of myself, a walking corpse; depressed, guilty, angry… and I didn't want to hurt you more after what they did to you in the Second Unit. I was being stubborn because I didn't want to add more shit on to what you were already going through."
"That's… really horrible," she squeaked out, staring blankly out into the room as if she could see this tormented side of him standing there as a separate entity. He thought he could see it, too, as if that dark shadow of him was retreating, as if he'd left it outside the door when he entered. Hopefully it would stay away for good. "I'm sorry you felt that way. I guess I sort of understand but… listen, after I woke up here, I really didn't think I had anything else left to live for. If it wasn't for Artyom and even Katya… God." She wasn't able to finish the alternative thoughts, either. Did Katya tell her that she'd come to see him in the graveyard? She hadn't been on the railcar to take the oath he'd held everyone else to. Well, it didn't matter anymore.
"I'll never be able to repay them for everything they did to help. They all tried to convince me, tried to get me to come down here sooner… I was such an insufferable asshole, especially to Katya. Melnik sent her to come talk to me when I was trying to avoid everybody… she's the only other person I've told the whole story to." He vowed to profusely apologize to each of their friends individually and express his undying gratitude.
"So, you just… stayed away?" her expression looked pained. 'What's she going to think of you purposefully avoiding her like this?' Melnik had made a good point.
"Yeah, I…" he held her face and then drew her in closer against him. He didn't want to stay away anymore. "I needed some time to process everything after I finally saw you on the railcar. I'm surprised I didn't totally come apart right there in front of everybody. I just couldn't… I didn't know what to do. And I asked everyone not to say anything to you."
"Oh my God," she whispered, staring off at the invisible shadow again. "So, this whole time…?"
"I carried you here to the med bay, that part was true, all the way from Barrikadnaya to the bunker," he grinned with pride at that memory. He hadn't given anyone else the chance to even touch her, wouldn't pass her off to anybody until it was time for the medical team to take care of her.
"I remember, a little," she hugged him and squeezed her eyes shut. "I heard your voice with the others but I thought it was just a dream, like I was already crossing over…"
"I got you here and then the doctors took over and I just couldn't hold it together any longer. But once I ran off, I realized I couldn't come back, I couldn't act like none of it happened. I didn't know what to do, what to do about you or how to help you, didn't know what to do with myself. Ulman and Artyom were trying to intervene from the start, if I went near them it would be more questions and… I just couldn't handle it."
"They really didn't say anything…" she admitted quietly. "I think Artyom maybe was trying to talk about you without really… I see it now, all the little hints he was trying to… but with him, that was the first time I told anyone about you. I never told Nikolai or Dmitri, or Melnik, or Hunter, not even the girls here."
"Really?" He was somewhat disappointed that she never talked about him to anyone, though he also understood why she would have kept it to herself. It was the same exact reason why he had never talked about his past with anyone except for Melnik and Hunter.
"Really," she looked up and nodded her sincerity. "It hurt too much. None of them could understand."
"So, I was everything to you, huh?" He didn't know where the query came from but it manifested itself out loud anyway. He hoped she wouldn't take that as a delusion of grandeur but it sounded a lot like his old self had said it. She didn't answer right away and that little weight was building up again. Why the fuck did you say that?
"You still are," she said it so softly that he almost hadn't heard it over his own anxious thoughts. That was… a very clear compliment, evidence that she still had a place for him in her heart.
"You still are," all he could think to do was copy her statement, confirm that he felt the same way as she did. Was that obvious enough?
"You're still… exactly how I remember," she smiled a little bit.
That was definitely a good sign. He knew he had to push a little bit more, the all-important question was surrounding them and begged to finally have a resolution. He sat up and turned his body to face her, reaching out to hold her face in his hands and barely resisting the urge to kiss her right then.
"And you're still so fucking gorgeous, you haven't changed at all," he smiled but of course her personality and spirit had grown even more formidable in his absence. That was its own compliment for a later time.
"You look… different somehow, but you still look like you," she stated uncertainly, tilting her head thoughtfully as if trying to work out how to describe her observations.
"I look like hell," he copied Artyom's comment from earlier and tried to laugh about it. He knew he looked older than he really was but that was what stress and pain could do to you. He wasn't a picture-perfect poster boy any longer.
"No, you look… grown up," she decided. But was that a compliment, or not?
"I feel old, that's for sure." He raised his eyebrows and lost the smile; it was too true.
"Stop it! Not like that, just, I don't know you used to… everything used to be a joke to you and now you're more serious," she looked deeply into his eyes as if she could see each individual trait inside of him.
"Used to," he agreed to that part with a flat expression, trying not to dampen the atmosphere again. They were on a good track of discussion, he had to keep it going. He needed the final answer. Don't mess this up.
"But I like you better this way," she settled on the idea and seemed assured as she placed one of her hands over his heart. Holy shit. How much clearer could he possibly expect her to be?
"As long as you like me," he laughed quietly, nervously, and then consumed his mind with her beautiful face. That's how this topic had begun, he wanted to get it right this time. "How are you still so incredible? It's like I'm lookin' through a time portal."
"Mischa," she scolded gently with a shy smile, not accepting the compliment so readily.
"Hey," he said lowly, seriously, leaning in close and staring straight into her eyes. "Don't argue."
"Okay," she breathed quietly, looking up at him with a sort of fearful curiosity.
Would now be a good time? Should he ask her outright or should he just make a move and let it speak for itself? Looking at her this closely, he really just wanted to kiss her at least once and then even if the world ended all over again, he wouldn't mind. He caressed her cheek as he brought his forehead against hers and watched her eyes. The humorousness was dissipating and the seriousness now reigned; and there was no joking about this. He needed her to understand how important this was, that this was the moment that would define what their relationship would be from here on out.
She didn't retreat or protest like he expected she might but instead she closed a hand over his, the one that was touching her face, not trying to remove him but holding him there. He angled his head a little higher until their noses were touching too. He wanted to read her thoughts, create a little link between their minds so he could stop guessing, stop hesitating, stop doubting. He settled his other arm around her shoulders but didn't push or pull on her. Was she going to back away yet? He didn't want to force this.
He could feel her tiny apprehensive breaths on his lips but he wanted to feel something else there, shifting his intent stare between her eyes and her mouth for any kind of signal. What do you want, Sasha? Do you want what I want? He moved carefully, slowly, as if someone had dialed down the speed of time itself. They were so good at affecting the fabric of reality. Everything stopped when she was this close. He rubbed against the side of her nose with his own. Do you understand what I'm trying to ask? Will you answer?
She pressed her lips tight together and swallowed nervously but then relaxed again as she let out a longer breath. Her head gradually tilted back and her eyes were closed now. One last chance to back out, you can say no, please just be honest. He dipped down, switching to the other side and nudging her nose with a little more force. He traced his fingers along her jaw line and she matched his angle but she wouldn't close the distance. Was she afraid of the same things as he was? Did she think he had moved on as well? They hadn't talked about that yet but there was no one else for him to talk about anyway.
When he completed the pattern along the delicate border of her face, he paused just under her chin. She completely froze and her breathing had become so minimal that he might have thought she stopped altogether. She was waiting for him. He held his breath as he erased the last centimeter, only barely touching his lips to hers. Please answer me. Please.
The response was instantaneous. She slid her free hand up his chest and then grabbed his shoulder tightly. Her fingertips pulled at him just a little bit, asking him to come back. He had given up that brief first contact in frightened anticipation of her reaction but now he understood. He repeated the movements exactly but pressed harder this time. Her lips fit perfectly in place and she left them relaxed and open. One more time, even more pressure, he aligned her bottom lip between his and closed over it. And she pushed back, she pushed back in the right way.
Thank you. Oh, how I've missed you.
Now with assurance, he stepped up the intensity a little more with every second that was crawling by. She was making her own cautious movements, gripping more at his wrist and his shoulder, and he pulled her in too. He got his final answer, the exact answer he wanted, and he savored every echo of her affirmative response. It felt just like it used to. It felt right and complete. Everything was back in its proper place again. She missed him just as much as he had missed her, she still wanted him in the same way. And he only ever wanted her. They weren't in the past anymore. They could pick back up where they left off, almost as if nothing had happened. No, the eternity that he'd spent without her, missing her, made this so much sweeter.
He changed his hold, wrapping both arms around her and gently cueing her to lay down with him on the half-reclined hospital bed. They stayed connected the whole time, beginning the kiss again with renewed passion between brief disbelieving pauses and dazed glances. Each time he met her lips she opened them up more. He felt her chest trying to keep up underneath him. He almost wanted to break off and confirm that everything was okay but all his questions had turned into these actions and she was still holding him against her tightly. She didn't want to stop.
They decided at the same time to reach out with their tongues. She tasted so familiar and clear, and he remembered every soft corner of her mouth. These memories were so easy to evoke because he'd worked so hard to recall everything he possibly could about her. Once in a while the Universe had blessed him with those kinds of intimate dreams. Now the dream was reality and he momentarily thought he'd wake up in his dark and lonely barracks room at any second.
Her ardent breaths got caught up in the action and she made this maddening moan to fix it. The sound made his blood boil and he realized that he wasn't going to be able to stop. How much could he ask for? Did she really want all this? What about her injuries? Would the knee brace get in the way? Maybe it was a good idea to perform another small test. He let one hand begin to wander. Don't be too obvious. Bringing his right hand from behind her he placed it on her tapered waist, he squeezed a little and she made another spine-tingling noise into his mouth but she didn't try to stop him. In fact, her hands were beginning to copy him. Is this what they were supposed to have all this time?
She restricted her mouth a little bit as his hand continued its exploration, she couldn't keep up with his blazing fervor. He pulled back the effort and gave her space to breathe, rubbing his face gently against hers because he hadn't shaved in the last few days. He decided to push in a new direction, nudging her ear with his nose, and then he kissed it and right behind it. She tensed her whole body and clutched at him stronger. He would do one final blatant check, and then there really was no stopping.
"Sasha," he whispered affectionately as he watched for her response, pouring every ounce of amorous desire into his voice. Do you want what I want?
"Mmm-Mischa," she whispered back warmly, kissing the tense muscle between his neck and shoulder because he was biting her ear now. She drew in a sharp breath but he knew its subtle meaning. It echoed clearly from eight years ago. She still gave all the same unspoken signals. She genuinely wanted this, too. And he wasn't going to deny her anything.
Sasha was cuddled up against him, tucked under his arm and breathing quietly. She had finally settled down to sleep without a sedative, and he didn't want the doctors to drug her into submission. It was completely fine with him; this was all he wanted the whole time.
He smiled and shook his head as he pictured himself from earlier today, trapped in the emotional prison he had built up in his mind. Wallowing in self-pity and fear in the graveyard. But she wasn't upset with him at all, and she had never forgotten anything. It really wasn't his fault. They had decided together to fulfill the requests laid out in the missive that the Resistance had delivered, speaking for a long time in hushed voices about both the gleaming prospects and the dangerous consequences. In fact, he might not have accepted the proposed assignment at all if it hadn't been for her determined spirit that convinced him to risk everything for a chance at a better future. That was their opportunity to break away from the Reich and have a real life.
And now they had one. 'You can choose to live, and live well, for both of your sakes,' Melnik had said. He had given Mikhail permission for that which he would not give himself. He and Sasha had both survived unimaginable cruelties, beaten impossible odds, and come out on the other side stronger than ever before. He was alive, and not just out of guilt or spite, and now he knew the reason why he was still here. And she was alive, too. She was alive and she was his. It was as if her heart had been suspended outside the realm of time along with his own, waiting in a cocoon for eight years, slowly evolving only to burst out in its new form at the proper moment. 'No one gets a second chance like this.'
Mikhail had begun to construct the things he would say to their friends and allies, going over each individual possible conversation. Firstly, with the Colonel, admitting the truth in everything he had said in his office, accepting the fatherly affection he had always shown since the first moment he had intervened in Mikhail's life. He wanted to thank Melnik for looking out for him all this time, but especially in this situation. Melnik hadn't been solely focused on urging Mikhail to speak to Aleksandrya for her sake but instead encouraged him to look at the miserable saga from different angles, to ask himself what he really wanted, and to understand his own pain.
For Katya, a sincere apology with appreciation for having the fortitude to handle his chaotic outburst which he had never let anyone else but the Colonel see before. Because she wanted to help, she wanted to be involved in creating this agreeable resolution, she wanted to know his story. He unfortunately remembered every detail that had been said in the graveyard, the insults and harsh words he'd let slip when he was feeling vulnerable and trying to push her away like he did with everyone else. He remembered the elements of her own despicable background and still felt genuinely sorry for her. He even hoped he could adapt for himself the aspect of her disposition that had grown beyond the trauma and resulted in an uplifting outlook, to be thankful for the things that had turned out right instead of being focused on the negativity. Maybe she'd be willing to teach him about it. Though, he didn't really want to become as outwardly jubilant as she was but he was beginning to regain that part of his personality that could laugh away discomfort and not take things too seriously. Maybe he should ask Ulman about that kind of thing, instead.
To Artyom, endless gratitude and apologies for all the anxiety he had inflicted simply by not holding up his end of their partnership. Artyom had done all the most important legwork; he had met Aleksandrya by some astronomical chance, discovering her connection to Hunter and helping her travel to Polis to make her predestined enlistment come to fruition. Building a trusting rapport with her and learning everything she had been trying to hide. For keeping her confidence and being such a good friend to her, for doing what he could on their fateful surface mission, for speaking so passionately about her and encouraging the Colonel to begin the rescue operation. He had kept her company even as she had been unconscious here in the med bay, staying by her side every day through each horrible step of her healing process. And of course, he was the final stop on the line which led to this new life, listening to everything that Mikhail had been concerned about before finally convincing him that Sasha still cared about him – that she wasn't angry, that she missed him. Artyom had been right about everything, and he had essentially dragged Mikhail all the way down here when he barely had the strength to walk as the fear had weighed him down.
And finally, he was thinking of Ulman, who had done what he always did in trying to diffuse the tension with humor. Although the Comedian had been a nosy pain in the ass on the railcar, he had been doing his best to talk through the situation as it unfolded because he wanted to understand. He did that from a place of empathy, and he surely supported Artyom and Katya along the way. If nothing else, Ulman had proven his worth on the rescue mission, putting the jokes aside to fulfil his necessary role in the infiltration, jailbreak, and firefight. He had been genuinely upset to learn of Aleksandrya's capture, involving himself in her rescue without hesitation, and he had helped carry her out of the Second Unit, too. The Comedian had even followed closely behind Mikhail as he carried Sasha back to D6, trying to be supportive even though he'd been mostly silent, trying to reassure him that she would be okay.
She began stirring just as he looked down at her, tensing her face as tears pried their way through her eyelids. He stroked her cheek compassionately. It's just a dream, wake up.
"Hey," he said softly, kissing the top of her head and pulling her closer, "It's okay. I'm still here."
"Mischa," she whispered quietly, her eyes still closed. Was she still asleep?
"Aleks," he tried the term on for size. It didn't quite seem to fit in his mouth.
"You've never called me that." She opened her eyes, blinking blearily as she looked up at him with concern.
"Well, it's your name, isn't it? That's what everybody has been calling you." She had professed it so emphatically, and everyone else was already comfortable calling her as such - even Colonel Melnik. Mikhail was willing to adapt if it meant they could live in the moment instead of in the past. Did that mean he'd have to get his tattoo altered? She didn't even know that he'd gotten it because it was after they were separated, after his memories came back. He got her name inked permanently so he would never forget it again.
"Yes, but I… I just didn't want anyone else to call me Sasha."
"You want to be Sasha?" he asked, confused. Her mother used to call her that. Everyone in the Reich used to call her that. Wouldn't it just be a sore reminder?
"Only to you," she settled back in against him.
"Okay," he smiled. What a privilege. Maybe he'd get the tattoo touched up, enhanced. And maybe she would get hers updated, too. Maybe she would get one that was more visible. They had their freedom now, and hopefully she would still agree to take the name that it represented.
"What time is it?" She tried to suppress a yawn, stretching her injured leg out and wincing.
"It's almost oh-two-hundred," he raised his wrist so she could see his watch.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" She grabbed his arm and pulled it back over her. She was just so adorable, he could stay here with her until the end of time with no complaint.
"I'm looking out for you. Fire guard." There really was no reason to stand watch but he wasn't tired, still buzzing with endorphins from their emotional reunion and the sensual activities that had wholly cemented their relationship back in its place.
"You're silly," she teased with a smile.
"Only to you," he repeated, patting her head affectionately and wondering about what had troubled her. He was pretty sure he knew the answer already but he wanted to keep talking to her. "What were you dreaming about?"
"You," he wanted to be flattered but the tone of her voice wasn't endearing. "You… dying."
"I'm sorry," he hugged her a little tighter. "I still dream about it too. I dreamt about you a lot."
"Will it ever go away?" She readjusted her grip of the blanket and pulled it up higher over them.
"I don't know, probably not," he mused thoughtlessly but suddenly felt the need to reassure her somehow. "We'll have to make some new memories. Good ones."
"Okay," she breathed out a little sighing laugh, he loved those.
"Agh!" He hissed and clutched his free hand over his chest. He tried to ignore it but talking about the dreams was making them sting and burn as always. He was hoping that would have stopped now that they were together again and she had absolved him of most of his guilt.
"What is it?" she asked nervously as she sat up.
"Sorry, it's," he rubbed at the one that hurt the most. She seemed to understand, placing her hand over his supportively.
"Are you ever going to stop apologizing for everything?" She consoled him with a kiss on his cheek.
"I can still feel it sometimes," he evaded the question but admitted his torment. He never told anybody about these physical reminders. And no, he was never going to stop apologizing to her.
"Here?" She returned to the one scar he had shown her, pulling at his collar so she could see it again. Her touch sparked a little but only he could feel the lightning bolt she had caused.
"There's... three," he explained reluctantly, taking hold of her hand and placing it over the other two but not allowing her to see under his shirt. He wasn't about to show or explain the exit wounds on his back either but she would probably see it all eventually.
What would she think when she saw them? Would she find them just as revolting as he did? They had actually healed rather well thanks to the adept stitching from the doctors in Polis but he still hated them. And he had matured since she last saw him but at least serving in the Order kept one in remarkably good shape. That much hadn't changed, as even in the Reich they were made to run laps, lift weights, and practice combative martial arts. He wasn't worried about his physical form, only the gruesome reminders that could be seen on the surface. Her fingers were running over the texture of the one on his shoulder again, and right then he decided that it didn't have to be shameful anymore. The scars could be a source of honor. I survived, I survived for you. This is why I'm still here… I would do anything for you.
"Fucking bastards," she whispered under her breath, continuing to run her delicate touch all over him.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," he lied. It just hurt in a different way now. He took both of her hands and held them together.
Of course, she didn't believe him, looking into his eyes with sympathy as if she was examining him for the truth. He felt like he had to look away or else she would discover what he was trying and failing to hide. Did she remember about the invisible mask? It was still broken and unusable but it was connected to a good memory – the night they had met. He gave her a brief kiss in an attempt to quell her concern.
"I wish I could have been there with you. In Polis, to help," she gave up her suspicious gaze and laid back down beside him.
"I wouldn't want you to see that," he shook his head, beginning to remember his own time spent in the hospital so long ago. Although, he wondered what his recovery process might have been like if she had been there. Would he still have forgotten everything? Would he have forgotten her? Even if he lost his memories in the same way, he was sure that if she was there by his side then he would have fallen in love with her all over again. "No, I was a mess. Inside and out. And then I was nobody… for a long time all I had was a name and a vague idea of where I'd come from. The psychologists kept trying to ask me questions but I couldn't remember anything."
"I know what you mean, at least a little. I felt so broken after they… after you were gone it was like I was dead too, on the inside. And then for a long time I felt nothing at all, I went back to work in the shop so I could have some kind of purpose but I was just a hollow shell. I didn't even talk for months except with Ivanovich and Masha." She seemed to give up on trying to draw anything else out of him, she had heard the languid pain in his voice, and he was thankful that she took over and began talking about herself again.
"But you're so strong, you got back up and you kept fighting." He would probably never be able to express how impressed and proud he was of her. "I don't know how you did it, look at all the things you've accomplished. And here I've barely been functioning this whole time. They should just give you my job."
"Well, when my mom got married to Petrovich, it just made me so angry. On top of everything else, that was the last straw. I didn't want to be anywhere near her, didn't want to be associated with them, with him. I had to get out. If I stayed there… if I kept living as a part of that family, that would mean that they truly won. I couldn't let them have that; I couldn't let them think that I would ever forget what they did to you. And sure, the Resistance factored in and the double-standard policies with his other family and all that but… I think it was pretty clear to them why I left and why I did what I did. They took away my Honor Guard, so I took away one of theirs."
"Fuck, Sash, that's terrible," he whispered, still not shocked by the way she had carried out her escape, but hearing about her emotional state and motivations after he was gone was humbling to say the least. Of course, he expected her to grieve for him and she certainly did, she had been this whole time just like he had been doing for her. But to begin to understand her thought process regarding her mother's marriage and what led up to her leaving the Reich was almost disturbing. "I can't imagine what it was like with them. I only met your mom that one time, and that was more than enough, but you had to deal with him, too."
"I'd do it all again," she growled in a low voice. Her tenacity was adorable but a bit scary at the same time. He knew that the woman he had chosen so long ago was no damsel in distress but sometimes her newfound strengths still sent shivers down his spine. She had focus now, a way to channel her frustrations that she hadn't had back in the Reich. Now she knew about weaponry, about how to survive anywhere, and she even ran a whole station. Wouldn't she need to go back there at some point? He was still thoroughly intrigued about it.
"So, how did you get to Avtozavodskaya? How did you meet Hunter?" He had been so curious about the rest of her life but it never seemed appropriate to ask about all the details until now. He was still a little uncomfortable asking anything about Hunter, it seemed intrusive from both sides, but he wanted to understand. He wanted to understand her feelings for him and what their relationship had really been, and not just because of all the rumors that everyone had been talking about. Would she tell him the whole truth?
"If I tell you the story, do you promise to sleep after?" She looked up at him expectantly.
"Alright, I promise," he agreed quickly but he didn't know if he could actually settle down. Maybe he should go and ask Nataliya for the sedative that Sasha didn't take.
"Well, I, uh," she glanced away but then she smiled. "Hunter met me."
"Uh-huh," Mikhail nodded knowingly. Sasha's defiant personality was a force to be reckoned with. She had drawn him in instantly ten years ago. So, it was no surprise that Hunter found her to be equally as interesting. "What did you do?"
"I had a… confrontation, with some bandits in the bar one night," she smiled and gazed off as she was assumedly recalling it presently. "Andrei taught me some of your combatives, so I'd be able to fend for myself if we got separated or if he was away at work or anything. It happened when we were living at Kitai-Gorod. Most of the time I'd just snag a few cartridges out of their pockets when they were wasted but that time… when Hunter was there that night, it was different."
"Oh?" He turned to watch her face as she told the story, entirely eager to hear about what she had done in this altercation. So, that was where she'd gotten her initial lessons from; Ivanovich had given her some of the same martial arts training that he had been given in the Reich.
"This pudgy asshole was trying to get my attention, offering these sums like I was for sale to just anybody. Well, instead of just ignoring him or telling him to fuck off, I decided it would be more fun to play a game."
"That's… not usually smart," Mikhail said ominously, kicking himself for interrupting because obviously she had been more than successful in this endeavor. "Sorry, go on."
"You're so cute when you're concerned like that," she leaned her head on his shoulder and kept grinning. "So, I told the guy that the price of my services was going to cost him his life. Obviously, he was pissed."
"Are you for real?" Mikhail couldn't believe his ears, trying to picture how it all went down. And when was this exactly? Where had he been at the time? Had he ever travelled through Kitai-Gorod when she was living there?
"Shh! Why would I lie? You asked," she made an exaggerated pouting face but was eager to continue the tale no matter what. He just kept staring at her concernedly as she picked up the narrative again. "How to describe it? I said something like, 'not worth it to you? Oh well,' and I started to walk away. But don't worry, I was listening. I heard him stand up from the chair and start to make a threat, I heard the gun scrape against the leather holster…"
"Sasha?" he pressed because she had paused intentionally, giving him a sly look.
"I wish I could show you," she scrunched up her face but quickly gave up on the idea because she still wasn't allowed to stand up on her own, though her arms were making some of the motions. "So, he's just taking aim at me, I stepped one foot back and came around, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it until the gun fell. I caught it with my other hand and aimed it back at him before he could even finish his sentence. He freaked and stumbled out with all his buddies behind him."
"You're fucking joking," he sounded angry at first but a huge grin quickly took over his face. He was trying so hard to picture it. God, it was kind of sexy that she knew how to do anything like that. "And Hunter saw it all?"
"Right. He came up to talk to me after that, and he was so awkward about it," she laughed and clutched at her side with the bruises. He let her take a few measured breaths before asking about what happened next.
"What did he say? What did you say?"
"I barely paid him any mind if you can believe it. But he asked for my name and… in return I asked for his." She stretched out with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as if she was watching her own story in her mind. "And you know what answer I got, but that wasn't going to work for me. I started to walk away from him but then… he told me his real name."
"His what? He has a…?" Mikhail had wondered about the name just like everybody else had at least once when it came to Hunter. He figured that the veteran might not even remember what it was himself. And yet, Sasha had gotten it out of him within seconds, daring to walk away unimpressed with the domineering Stalker.
"Ivan… Antonovich… Zaytsev," she made a serious face and lowered her voice as she attempted to sound like Hunter when he'd apparently said it all spaced out slowly like that.
"Zaytsev? Like the sniper?" Other than the infamous surname, Hunter's given names turned out to be the most common and boring of all.
"That's what I said," she grinned again.
"So, what happened with him?" He hoped their relationship hadn't been romantic from the start, it didn't seem that way. Another of those important questions was about to be answered.
"Well, of course, he was impressed with what I did. He said I was like him, that he was on to me because I didn't belong there in that station. He led me off to some hidden little outpost room and we kept talking. I don't know why I said all the things I said… I mean, he was wearing his uniform and I knew that the Order was neutral but even still… I told him where I was from, I told him who I was related to, and why I left… so right away he insisted that Andrei and I move to another station and he'd take care of the documentation and diplomatic asylum and all that."
"Must have been kinda terrifying, not knowing if he would be able to help or not. Man, I'm… I'm glad you met… I'm glad he met you. And kept you safe. If you hadn't done that, if he hadn't been there to see it…" he wouldn't finish the thought. Only now was he beginning to become thankful for Hunter's involvement with Sasha, no matter what form it took. If they had never met then she never would have come to D6 and she and Mikhail might have gone the rest of their miserable lives never finding each other and never knowing the truth.
"Yeah, it was really rough at first, you know, very uncertain. The Resistance spelled out the escape route but after that… we were on our own. We holed up in a side-branch for a few days living on our supplies. We thought if we tried to enter the Red Line immediately there would be too many questions. The first week there we spent like any other travelers but we met Nikolai and Dmitri early on. They helped us out a lot, so we only stayed maybe six weeks before we made for Kitai-Gorod. We were terrified of being recognized, of extradition, especially because of what I… who I killed and who I was related to."
"Damn, Sash, I can't believe you did all this… I wish I had known," he shook his head disbelievingly but was glad to hear these details.
"Hunter returned a couple weeks later ready to go. He got us new passports, handled all the logistics, and we moved to Novokuznetskaya. Andrei and I joined the security team, keeping watch on the scum coming and going from Venice. Not long after that, Nikolai and Dmitri found us again. They defected from the Red Line and so we all worked and lived together."
"You were living with three guys?" Mikhail asked out loud by accident.
"Mischa!" she frowned at him. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm sorry," that apology was genuine and necessary. He didn't actually think anything had happened with her comrades and understood by now that Ivanovich was essentially her dad.
"Anyway, one day a guy comes up to the border and he's wearing one of these," she tugged gently at the red shemagh around Mikhail's shoulders. "I asked him all these questions, making it seem like the normal procedure, and sure enough he'd been involved with the Resistance and made his escape. But he didn't just run off, he kept helping them from the outside. He connected me with his handler and somehow it got all mixed in with the Revolutionists. I never figured out if their committee was the brains behind the Resistance, but they're at least all in contact with each other… I learned from Artyom that he was rescued from Tverskaya by one of their squads, when he was on his way to Polis."
"The world gets smaller and smaller," Mikhail raised his eyebrows, impressed by the amount of lucky coincidences that had shaped all of their paths. 'Funny that you all ended up here together,' Melnik knew each of their stories.
"The Revolutionists had recently dealt with some kind of uprising down around Paveletskaya and needed help getting it organized and making sure the residents were taken care of. By then our team of four was somewhat notorious and we'd built up a network of eyes and ears. I offered to go down and assist in rebuilding Avtozavod but when I got there, they basically just handed us the keys, metaphorically. So, Die Roten Pfeil, the Red Arrow, was ultimately born from that."
"God damn… proud of you," he managed to spit out as he was still imagining everything.
"Thanks," she laughed quietly through her nose.
"Are they doing okay there? Are you going to go back?" It was the biggest question still on everyone's minds. Even if she did enlist, she'd still be allowed to visit her home once in a while. And maybe her clan could form an alliance with the Order to keep an eye on that quadrant, exchange information, or Avtozavod could serve as a layover for traveling Rangers. Either way, he wanted to go with her and see it all for himself.
"I gave Nikolai command of everything before I left to come speak to the Colonel. We had already planned it all out because of Hunter… and um, Artyom called them the other day and yeah, they're all fine there." She suddenly smiled and looked right at him. "There's a woman there that I've been good friends with, Alina, she just had a baby on Sunday."
"Oh? That's good, I guess. Congratulations to her and the father," he submitted somewhat uncertainly. Why was she mentioning this random fact?
"They named him Mikhail."
"Oh, that's definitely good then!" He grinned and touched his nose to hers.
"You should come with me when I visit." She couldn't resist kissing him at least once before she began to shake out the blanket over them both.
"I'd like that." He didn't dare enquire any further, already thankful for the unsolicited invitation. It would probably still be quite a while before she was fit to travel anywhere, though he wouldn't really mind carrying her as he had before. Surely the Colonel would allow her to return to her original station to check on things. Still, she didn't confirm whether she would stay there or return to join the Order.
"Okay, that was way more than I was going to say. Will you sleep now?" He'd almost forgotten about the promise.
"I'll do anything for you," his heart spoke before his brain could but he forgave it. Sasha settled back into the place she had been before, right where she belonged, in his arms. He held her there as he closed his eyes and tried to keep his promise. They had the rest of their lives to tell stories to each other, so his remaining curiosity could wait at least until morning.