Author's Note: Lots going on in Mikhail's head this chapter, and he gets a very necessary kick in the butt from Katya which was fun to write although it was of course very serious subject matter. Just wanted to post a quick update/warning that I've been feeling run-down with normal life stuff lately so my writing may be a bit slow for a while. I still have the general outline of this story in progress, just not the concentration to really give it the time it deserves at the moment. I think about this story every day, I go back and re-read what I've written a lot, and it's always in my head little snippets of conversations or observations of the characters. So, it's always on my mind, sometimes it's just hard to focus on the necessary headspace and find the words I need. Thanks for sticking with me!
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: "Infinity" – Unlike Pluto, "Doubt" – Through Fire.
Chapter Fifty-One: The Formidable Women of The Order
Mikhail left the office silently and began to re-examine the topics that he and Melnik had just spoken about, breaking it down to figure out what he should continue to be worried about and what to let go of. He wished he could leave it all in the hands of fate but if he let his mind empty, the shadows would creep in again. Better to ruminate on something tangible than to be at the mercy of the void.
Okay, so, Arseniy is with Romanov at Mayakovskaya, I hope they're doing alright. At least Senya's nonstop chattering will be of use in the tavern, he'll blend right in. I wonder if Kirill ever went back there again, if we could find him, thank him, buy him a drink or two… What else? The listening post was sabotaged. Good work, Tatiana. Petrovich has been handled, supposedly, but what did Melnik really say about me? Why did he say anything at all? What will happen if they find out that I'm still here? What if they find out that Sasha and I are together again? They'll want to finish off what they started… and she knows so much more now. She found out everything that Petrovich didn't want anyone to know, least of all her. They didn't kill her… don't imagine it… they didn't – because they hoped she would tell them about D6. Could Melnik really have put an end to everything? They really don't want vengeance? On me? On her? For Nikita? I really hope she didn't give them any information; I don't think she did, Melnik doesn't think so, either. But what if they find a way in? She's in danger. At least they still think I'm dead, but… they know for certain that she's here in the bunker. Maybe we should go to Avtozavod and stay there.
"Hey. Sparrow." A low yet feminine voice beckoned curtly from the end of the hallway, the opposite of Katya's pitch. But then it softened as he turned to face her. "How is everything?"
"It's uh, it's fine Anya." He knew what she was generally implying but wasn't sure exactly what kind of answer she wanted, and she likely wouldn't be any clearer than that so he wouldn't be any clearer either. He looked back at Melnik's office door and wondered if Anya was here on duty or because she'd wanted her own update on him and Sasha. "Sorry, did I delay you?"
"No, I'm off until zero dark. I took over half of your quadrant so don't worry about it."
"Everybody keeps saying that," he whispered to himself but of course she heard it. At least now he knew that his area of operations was under strict control; if he had the choice of anyone to cover his patrols, she was at least in the top three.
"Because you've done enough of it already," she sounded stern again but it was just her default tone. "And I still outrank you so now it's an order, got it?"
"I guess you're on the list, too," he said a little louder and she pushed her eyebrows together curiously. "I've been going around making amends for being such a stubborn asshole."
"Well, it's about time!" Anya finally grinned and smacked his arm with the back of her hand. She was implying that he'd been insufferable for much longer than just the past week.
"Yeah, yeah," he laughed and mocked quietly.
"Dad's been really worried about you, I hope you gave him his due," she leaned against the wall but pointed at the office door.
"I did." He considered going into detail but it seemed Anya understood the disposition of both of her family members equally, so he left the sentimentality out of his next statement, returning to his worries again. "I can't believe he and Petrovich came to terms about the rescue mission. I mean, I'm glad it's all said and done but… I think he told him about me."
"Like hell," Anya insisted with a determined frown. "You know he wouldn't say any more than he had to, but even so, they won't get to you or Aleks without a fight. You hear me?"
Mikhail only nodded his uncertain acceptance and then asked himself if Anya would want a hug, too. He stretched out the arm that was closest to her, holding it halfway between a handshake and an invitation.
"I'm happy for you." She accepted the full offer but didn't get too close or stay in his arms for more than a few seconds. She was never comfortable with prolonged physical interactions. "I didn't know she was yours when she showed up; I bet you never imagined she'd be so well-trained."
"I didn't know either. I wish I'd seen her sooner," Mikhail shook his head remorsefully but Anya still looked amused.
"Could've been you taking her out for the trial." Anya sent his imagination on a whole new path but he'd have to finish the idea later because she wasn't done speculating. "Is she going to enlist?"
"I dunno why everybody expects me to have that answer," he sighed. He wished he knew Sasha's thoughts on the matter but even if she had made her decision already, it wasn't his place to go around telling everybody.
"All the girls have been wondering. It's a big decision, and she's going to be laid up for a while so she's got time to think about it. Just do us all a favor and don't talk her out of it," Anya scolded gently but Mikhail was already reserved to let Sasha make up her own mind.
"Hey, how come you let Katya and the rest of them believe that gay shit about me?" The query suddenly came out of nowhere and surprised even him but Anya burst out laughing.
"Mischa, you know I don't get involved in their ridiculous chitchat. I don't care to hear who in the Order has the best 'equipment' or who's good and bad at whatever... it's a disgusting distraction and work is more important. I'm not about to be sitting on QRF knowing shit like that about the guys assigned to my watch. And I definitely don't want to hear about my own damn brother."
"I'm with you on that," he raised his eyebrows to look horrified at the topic. "But still! You could have at least told them I was straight and put an end to it."
"It doesn't matter now," Anya assured with a lingering smile.
Assumption confirmed, the sniper division had already discussed everything about him and Sasha. Thank God men don't talk about that stuff. But the girls couldn't possibly know too many intimate details, right? No one had come to visit Sasha's hospital room since Mikhail had literally embedded himself there so she couldn't have submitted anything new to them. It must all be the result of overzealous imaginations based on their tragic chronicle and the restoration of their relationship.
"I don't wanna know," he cringed and held both hands up dismissively.
"So, when's the wedding?" Anya asked cheerfully.
"Jesus, did you already talk to Katya about that?" He couldn't believe anything about the anticipated ceremony could spread that fast, having sworn Katya and Ulman to further secrecy only an hour ago and knowing that Anya wasn't a follower of rumors either.
"No? I figured it was obvious, isn't it?" Anya looked confused and perhaps slightly disappointed that she'd been left out of the initial conversation concerning the event.
"You gonna stand on my side or hers?" He confirmed his intent without saying it specifically.
"What do you think?" She brought out his usual playful question, they really had learned a lot of each other's mannerisms. Could Melnik hear this banter from inside his office? He'd be grinning from ear to ear hearing his 'kids' lightheartedly bickering like this.
"You be where you want." Mikhail was going to add 'I don't care,' but that wasn't correct. He wasn't hoping for one option over the other as long as Anya was voluntarily involved.
"She can have Artyom walk with her and I'll stand with you, fuck gender roles," Anya sneered again but the smile was still trapped in her face somewhere.
"Sounds good, I appreciate you wanting to be there but it'll probably be a while before we, uh… get it organized. I didn't even ask her yet… but Melnik—Dad agreed to officiate when the time comes. I'll let you know all about it, of course, but I've got to get back to the med bay soon," he began severing the discussion but then figured a more direct invite would be a nice conclusion to these updates he'd been giving people. Why hadn't anyone visited lately? Just to give him and Sasha space? Artyom must have requested privacy on their behalf but complete solitude wasn't necessary. "Hey, you should come visit later, I don't want anyone to think they aren't welcome just cause I'm there all the time now."
"I'll be sure to knock first," Anya laughed again and Mikhail began to turn red.
"Shit," he covered his face with a hand as he realized that Anya or one of the other girls had probably already tried to visit at an improper moment. So, that's how the gossip circle got updated. When did someone try to visit, though? What did they hear? I just can't help myself when Sasha's so close to me. I missed her so much… in every way. Okay, maybe seclusion really was needed. Thanks to you once again, Artyom.
"If you promise to behave, I'll bring the division in after dinner." Anya raised a stern finger but sounded hopeful.
"I promise," and he meant it but he still couldn't look her in the eyes. He wasn't planning to initiate anything like that for a while anyway. Sasha needed rest to recover from the surgery, and having visitors would further help him control himself. "Thanks for taking care of her when I wasn't there, Anya. I'm sorry I ran off and—"
"Don't apologize for that, I understand wanting to be alone to process things. That's why I didn't chase you down myself. And I would have taken care of her anyway… but you're welcome. Glad you finally came to your senses, you idiot," she smacked his arm playfully again, sounding just like her father.
"I'll see you later tonight," he nodded to confirm the date without conceding anything else.
"Пока, старший брат!" She taunted with a giggle as he began to turn away. She wanted to hear her familial title as much as Melnik wanted to hear his.
"Пока, сестренка."
He gave a casual half-wave and half-salute as he walked away from her. He walked to the very end of the command sector, or the very beginning, needing a pause after all this conversation even though they had all been rather pleasant or at least reaffirming. He hadn't talked this openly or at length with anyone in so long, it was almost draining, but he needed the diversion. I've had enough conversation to last me all week, all month, but I'm not done, yet. Who else do I need to talk to? I keep adding people and crossing them off, it's getting hard to keep track… Leaning his arms down on the heavy steel railing which bordered the open central vault of the bunker, he absorbed the fresh air and the melody of sounds. Boots shuffling, the twin spiraling lifts gently whirring along their rails, squeaky blast doors opening and closing, snippets of conversation and laughter, a monorail carriage rumbled overhead. He checked his watch, only two hours had passed since they had taken Sasha into the operating room for the expected three-hour procedure. He wanted to hope that she would be out sooner than that, and yet he wasn't quite ready to resign himself to the waiting room, leaving empty space for the dark thoughts to invade again.
I really thought the miserable feelings would go away so easily, such an idiot, of course it doesn't work like that. But I really do want it to get better, so what's standing in the way? What is this feeling? Just… fear? Fear of what? Of losing her again? Fear of the unknown? The future? Where did all the optimism go? Did she take it all with her? She has all the good things. Don't I have anything left that's useful? Don't I have anything nice to give her? She's been so amazing, so strong, but I still feel so weak without her. I need her. I promised I'd be okay while she was gone, but… this is so hard.
His gaze swept across the great chasm of the bunker once again; was there anyone else he could go and talk to besides himself? Of course, he knew nearly everyone's name and rank but out of the sea of bemused and austere faces he didn't recognize anyone he was too interested in talking to. It's your own damn fault that you pushed people away for so long. If you go around chatting them up now, you'll have to explain everything and that's how the rumors will start. There's got to be someone… even a repeat. Maybe Ulman is still in the mess hall with Katya. Even his dumb jokes are better than sitting here alone in my thoughts. Just as he decided to return there, an echo of a familiar youthful voice caught his attention and he leaned back on the railing again, angling his head in several directions to find the source. He soon pinpointed the speaker and their location: Dukov was on the lower level talking with someone that Mikhail couldn't identify. He only hesitated long enough to determine if the young Ranger might still be there in the time it would take to descend the stairs. Great, I couldn't catch him earlier. He's on the list.
Mikhail hurried back towards the command center, forgoing the main entrance, and instead trying not to dive headlong down the narrow concrete stairs set off to the side. He excused himself quietly as he pushed past a small group of technical staff and assorted members of the joint task force who were congregating outside the laboratory.
"The hell have you been, Vorobyov?" One of the men in the grouping turned his attention as Mikhail rushed by.
"Hell is exactly where I've been, Lesnitsky." He called over his shoulder to the sardonic soldier. Something about that man's personality had always been off-putting but Mikhail was too concerned with his current objective to give him any more sass than that. This time he didn't even look in the direction of the hospital wing as he passed it and hastened towards the opposite side of the bunker where he'd seen Dukov.
"Hey, it's Zakharovich, in the flesh!" Dukov greeted him with excitement as Mikhail pulled up next to the man he hadn't identified, excusing himself again.
"Hey, Duke," he returned the salutation but then of course, the words he needed vaporized. You know at least the basic phrases, just like with everybody else. Who cares if it's the same script, they all deserve to hear it. "I uh, wanted to be sure to catch you and apologize for brushing you off the other day."
Dukov's grin relaxed but his eyes were still shining even though he looked slightly confused. Did he even remember how Mikhail had rudely dismissed his interaction as he was running away from Sasha after carrying her to the med bay? He hated remembering that.
"You wanted to hear about the rescue operation and uh," Mikhail looked over at the other unfamiliar soldier next to him and wondered again how best to verbalize his prompts without drawing too much attention to himself.
"Oh, right! Yeah, well, I got the same debriefing on all the… stuff that happened and her… origins, so, um," Dukov shifted his stance awkwardly and then addressed the third man apologetically. "Can I catch up with you in a bit, Danila? Zakharovich here is kinda hard to get a hold of these days."
"Sure man, I'll be in the armory until you're ready to hit the road." Danila didn't seem bothered by the dismissal. Was he Duke's junior partner? He was definitely a new recruit but Dukov hadn't been in the Order for very long, either.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Mikhail began as the other young man walked away.
"It's all good brother. What's on your mind?" Even Dukov knew something was up with Mikhail just by looking at him. How much of this saga had he been informed of? The debriefing that Mikhail had skipped out on surely detailed Sasha's backstory with the Reich but had the Colonel mentioned Mikhail in that meeting at all? Wait, that's right, Melnik said that Duke assisted with the phone call to the Führer.
"Uh, well, a lot, and nothing at the same time," Mikhail said with a surprising amount of self-revealing truthfulness. "I've been making amends and expressing my gratitude to those who were involved in rescuing Sasha, so… uh, thank you, and—"
"I know a little bit about how it all goes together… with you and her, I mean. You don't gotta explain everything. I heard it was a rough breakup and you guys didn't see each other for a long time." Dukov looked ponderous, almost as if trying to decipher what little he'd been told right there on the spot.
"We didn't break up," Mikhail paused, trying to decide if there was a deeper meaning to Dukov's interpretation, trying to decide if he wanted to clue him in any further. He looked at his watch again and although he still had time, he suddenly felt the minute hand physically pressing into his thoughts. "Look, uh, you can get Artyom to tell you the whole fucked up story if you want but right now, I'm… Melnik said you could tell me about the phone call with Petrovich."
"Oh, yeah, shit, uh," Dukov couldn't seem to organize his words, either. The heavy weight of dread started forming in Mikhail's chest as he waited for the explanation. "It was pretty cool actually, the Colonel was awesome, really put the Führer in check. I don't think you have to worry about anything, they aren't gonna fight back or try to come get Aleks… er, Sasha?"
"But Melnik said something about me, didn't he?" Mikhail really only wanted this one particular answer, tensing his body purposefully so as not to fidget.
"Um, yeah but, you know I don't think… he wasn't too specific or anything. He just said that he knew about you, your old rank when you were there, and uh… you and Aleks were engaged?"
Mikhail nodded his head to answer but remained silent because he could see the gears still turning in Duke's head.
"Führer said you were a traitor or somethin' and… I mean, obviously you aren't a Nazi, so… did they exile you?" What an innocent question from such an innocent young soldier, he could never imagine the true violence of Mikhail's sentence.
"S-somethin' like that…" Mikhail convinced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Don't think about the wall. "But they didn't say anything about me as I am right now, right?"
"Well, no, uh, they mostly talked about her and the diplomatic asylum stuff. They were just kinda threatening each other in that like… underhanded kinda way. Führer was pissed at her and about our operation but the Colonel really came out on top. No way the Council or anybody else is gonna get involved. So, I think as long as you two keep outta their territory, you're good."
"They executed me." Mikhail let the grim reality fall out, no more mask to keep it in. But the scars were a mark of his devotion to Sasha, he would learn to be proud of the whole story someday. Is this how Katya had overcome her adversity? This was a good test, to see how someone who didn't know him that well would react to such a disturbing revelation. "They found out I was… that Sash—that Aleks and I were working for the Resistance and… somehow I survived the firing squad."
"Oh, fuck dude. For real? Like, they actually…? Bro!" Dukov staggered back a step and his unblinking eyes stretched open as far as Mikhail had ever seen, looking him up and down as if searching for the evidence. What would the poor kid's imagination turn to now?
"Eight years since then and… the whole time, I believed that they shot her, too. So, when we rescued her and you saw me leaving the med bay, I was… sorta freaking out about everything." Somehow, Mikhail believed that his severe honesty would ensure that Dukov hadn't withheld anything as he'd danced around the issue. But maybe he just didn't have as large a vocabulary as he needed to express all the subtleties of that politically-charged phone call with the Führer. "Are you sure Melnik didn't say anything else about me?"
"I'm sure. You're all good. You and her. Melnik made that clear, she's one of us now." Duke clapped a hand on Mikhail's shoulder as a show of authenticity but the weight of doubt was still there.
"Alright well, thanks for telling me and for helping out with everything, glad you were on the team." Mikhail looked around their immediate area and sighed heavily. No one else was near enough to have overhead their conversation but the old reflexes were reinstating themselves; he wasn't quite in command of his reservations yet. "Just in case it isn't obvious… please don't discuss this shit with anyone who wasn't on the mission. Actually, only the people on Alpha Team know the whole deal, so… I don't know what would happen if they found out I was still hangin' on here… and I'm technically breaking the rules of my own asylum by telling you but I'm so tired of keeping it bottled up."
"Yeah, of course. I understand. Your secret's safe with me." Dukov gave a solemn nod to seal his oath.
"I appreciate it, really," Mikhail finally looked into the young Ranger's eyes as a last expression of his sincerity, then plotted his retreat. "I've got to go, but I'm sure I'll see you around."
"No problem, brother. I hope Aleks is doing better, hope I get to meet her soon! All the best," Dukov gave a wave and put the enthusiasm back into his voice so it would be carried in the sound waves that followed Mikhail as he wandered away aimlessly.
Ten minutes ticked by while he marched in circles, making his final conclusions about what might have been said about him. Dukov wasn't very direct with his explanation but the young Ranger was never a smooth talker anyway. He counted out his breaths and began to solidify a positive belief about it; Melnik wouldn't lie to him about something so serious, Anya vowed to protect both him and Sasha, and Dukov was merrily reassuring despite what must have been a very tense conference with the Führer. And he had professed the finality of the most important criteria: there was no forthcoming retribution from the Reich, no public trial or Council hearing would occur, and Sasha belonged to the Order. So, would she choose to enlist? Was it really a choice? Would she feel forced to accept based on the high risk and effort that had been expended to retrieve her and heal her?
Mikhail found himself back in the mess hall without any real thought or effort, scanning the occupants for anyone else who remained to be thanked or apologized to but in this early afternoon hour the room was mostly empty. There was no immediate trace of Ulman because you could hardly go ten seconds without hearing his jokes or belly-laughing. He spotted Katya in the kitchen through the serving window, back tending to whatever delicious recipe she had been brewing earlier. He acknowledged that he'd always been a bit more satisfied for the day when she had been on kitchen duty. Only a handful of people in the Order knew more than just the bare basics of the culinary arts and Katya was one of them.
"Hey, Katya," he said quietly as he pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen.
"Mischa?" She turned around promptly with a confused expression. Why hadn't she used his callsign like she normally did? Was she going to stop calling him 'Sparrow' now that they had become closer friends? He would actually miss hearing it if she did. "Everything okay? You know you already got to me, right?"
"Yeah, I know, I just… it's not quite time to head back yet so I'm tryin' to fill the space."
"Oh, well in that case come give me a hand here." She beckoned him closer.
"What do you need?" He looked at the stove and her workstation but couldn't decipher what she might need assistance with, half the instruments and ingredients in this room were foreign to him.
"Can you scooch this pot over? I think the back burner shorted out and I can't lift it. Don't want everybody's supper getting cold!"
He did as requested with little effort and she smiled at him but it quickly faded away as she watched him resume his prior position leaning against the back wall.
"You sure you're alright?"
"I uh… there's… a lot goin' on." He shook his head and decided that he wasn't going to outline everything he'd spoken with so many different people about. Katya had already dealt with a lot of his emotional blathering in recent days. "I talked with Melnik, Anya, Duke… going down the list. I talked with Artyom a lot, too."
"Where did he go? Isn't he supposed to be helping you? Or is it something with Aleks?" She tried to help him sort through the categories anyway.
"He's already in the med bay, she's still in surgery," he checked his watch again just to be sure. Still not time yet. "I'll head down in a minute I just… I don't think I can sit still. I don't want to bother Artyom with any more of my bullshit, he's done more than enough for me already."
"Okay, stay as long as you want." Katya accepted his presence but didn't try to pry anything else out of him and he didn't even really know what he wanted to say, if anything. Maybe he'd tell her about his attempt to be truthful with Dukov just now, ask her if she had gotten through her own trauma by talking to other people about it honestly. But he had never heard about her life before last week, so she couldn't be too forthcoming about her past. Then again, she might have shared her story with him much sooner if he hadn't been so guarded. Did I learn that from Anya? Or did she learn it from me? We probably both learned it from Hunter. Stonewalling. Keep the thoughts and emotions in, keep everything else out.
"I only told Ulman, I swear," Katya admitted her dissemination timidly. Mikhail had already figured that out but she seemed remorseful now. His detached mood was leading her to believe that he was unhappy with her but he was just unhappy in general.
"It's fine, I don't mind that."
"But I didn't tell anyone about your secret hideout, so…" She withheld the phrase, 'Don't worry about it.'
"You're good, really. I'm not upset with you," he promised calmly and tried to smooth out his expression.
"So, what are you stuck on?" She could still read the hints of emotions on his face, fighting for control.
He thought about the conversations with Duke, with Anya, with Melnik, with Artyom. Although he still had his sliver of doubt about what had been told to the Führer, a different topic came out of his mouth. One that had troubled him at the beginning of this strange side-quest to distract himself, one that only a woman might dare speak about.
"I keep thinking about… did she ever tell you much about Hunter?"
"What do you mean? What do you really mean?" Katya turned around and her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously; she was using that lie detector talent of hers. He had to be extra careful with his questions, now. Would she yield to his interrogation?
"About their relationship."
"Why?" Katya almost growled. Was that a 'yes' answer? And if so, would Katya share what she knew?
"I don't know, I'm… she told me about how they met, how he helped her and Ivanovich get their asylum, and he told her his real name but then… nothin' else after that," he shrugged uncomfortably.
"Is this a male territorial thing? A literal dick-measuring contest." She planted a hand on one hip confidently.
"I dunno why you gotta call it that," he scowled as he looked away, flustered, ashamed, but she was on to him and called him out on it directly. He couldn't deny that aspect of his curiosity, but that wasn't the main issue. "Just… somethin' about not knowing how far it went—"
"Mischa," she cautioned with his real name again. "You're still gonna let him come between you and her after everything that's happened?"
"I know, I know, he's not coming back, but—"
"But nothing! I'm telling you right now, don't pressure her." Katya cut him off again, suddenly she was entirely serious and it startled him. She never acted so severely, except on one mission last year where they had failed their task and lost a comrade in the process. She blamed herself for it and made quite a show in the debriefing room but hadn't gotten anywhere near to his nuclear level of meltdown in the graveyard.
"W-why not?" Katya definitely knew something that he didn't.
"It might seem like she's in a good mood because she missed you so much but she's been through a lot recently. Sure, it's really awful what they did to you eight years ago but she only survived their cruelty eight days ago. Don't make it all about you." She scolded him by pointing a large wooden spoon in his direction as an extension of her hand. She really meant it.
"Fuckin' harsh," he mumbled lowly, but he knew she was right. He was indeed being self-centered in this matter and yet he couldn't seem to stop himself. "I'm man enough to admit my own insecurity but it's killin' me not knowing what it was. I mean, all that training had to have taken a lot of time… and he gave her his Vintorez! It had to have been more than just—"
"Did you read her chart?" She was still pointing the spoon and staring daggers at him.
"No…?" He didn't understand how the question was related. He felt the sudden urge to go down to her room and read it as soon as possible but then that other voice in his head bade him to continue the willful ignorance.
"Good. Don't." Katya seemed adamant with her short order, turning back to face the pot on the stove and sprinkling some kind of brown powder into the broth.
"Why don't I get to know the diagnosis?"
"They tortured her in the Second Unit, do you really want all the details?"
"No. Well… no," he hoped that Katya could read his curious empathy from his reluctance. He would want to know the details if he was sure that the information wouldn't cause a whole new breakdown. And he couldn't afford to fall apart again when Sasha needed him to be strong. Why couldn't he follow the same procedure when it came to her relationship with Hunter? Because it was more personal? Because it was the exact opposite of torture?
"Trust me, you don't. Just believe me when I tell you not to ask questions. And as for Hunter? She'll talk to you about him when she's ready and not a minute sooner. We didn't even have his memorial yet."
"But what about your little gossip circle? If I'm in it, he's gotta be in it. And I'll bet fifty bullets that you girls never assumed he was a homo." Mikhail was still a tad bitter about his longstanding incorrect status. The girls hadn't assumed that about him right away, did they? Did it have something to do with the way he looked? How he acted? Just the nature of his secrecy about himself in general? He would probably never know.
"She didn't tell us anything like that about him, or anyone else. She didn't even tell anybody about you, remember? Even if she did talk about that kind of stuff, I wouldn't betray that trust… and definitely not for the satisfaction of your fragile masculinity. This isn't fun and games, Mischa, with your damned bullets! You weren't there with her those first few days. Gossip circle nothing. When she woke up, you didn't see what I did… what Artyom did. And you made us swear not to tell her anything about you, do you know how difficult that was? To see her every day knowing that…" Katya's voice and face turned downwards as she had trailed off but Mikhail understood everything she had left unsaid, only able to reply with uncomfortable sighs to admit her veracity.
He remembered Artyom's solemn observation of Sasha's condition when she first regained consciousness, 'Maybe you were kinda right about making her worse… With everything we had been talking about, I dunno if she'd have been able to handle everything all at once.' And Sasha had admitted how depressed she was feeling after her rescue, 'After I woke up here, I really didn't think I had anything else left to live for.' Did she tell Katya and Artyom what they did to her in the Second Unit? Did she even remember much from her two-day ordeal there? What had their friends seen when Mikhail wasn't there with her? He thought he was doing the right thing by giving her space, by not adding on to her pain, and yet he ended up hurting everyone involved by not being involved himself. The aggravated sniper picked her head up and interrupted his self-loathing with further intensity.
"Do I have to spell it out for you? She's scared and overwhelmed and grieving. She's hurting inside and out, so either find a way to help her or else leave her alone."
"I'm sorry," he closed his eyes and tried to let it all go, even temporarily, and for everyone's benefit. Katya had been right about everything else regarding Sasha so far, she had to be right about this, too. He had to learn to start trusting other people more, to lean on them and accept their aid and advice. But she knew things about Sasha that he didn't and that was heartbreaking. Was he not good enough to be trusted? Why wouldn't Sasha be honest with him about her inner turmoil?
"Don't be sorry to me," Katya warned one last time before starting to switch back to her normal personality. "She's going to want to see you when she wakes up, you should go so you don't miss it this time. If you do, I'll kick your ass myself."
"Anya said she'd get the sniper division together to visit after dinner. You in?" he asked without commenting on anything else they had just talked about. He wouldn't dare add anything more that she could reflect back at him.
"I was going to go for a walk with Ulman but I'm sure he wouldn't mind putting it off a bit for her. I'll talk to him and I'll see you later, now get down there." She used a lighter tone of voice but didn't turn around to look at him or watch him follow her commands.
"Yes, ma'am," he relinquished timidly, feeling like a child reprimanded by their mother.
He left the mess hall and suddenly felt absolutely wretched, tormented by the questions about Hunter and about Sasha's condition, trying to pull out the knife that Katya had just stabbed him in the guts with. He hadn't expected her, of all people, to be so punitive and reluctant to talk. Either her patience with his dark side had worn out or she was showing her true self again; was her enthusiasm always an act? He reminded himself not to underestimate the women of the Order, each formidable in their own way. If the men were expected to be top-notch then the women were even more so, working and fighting harder to prove their worth in a man's world. Each of them was infinitely more resilient than the men, mentally tougher than several men combined. Maybe that was precisely because they shared so much with each other, while the men all felt it necessary to keep anything personal to themselves. Not admitting your own weaknesses became a weakness in itself.
The side-track only distracted him for a short time, inevitably feeding back into the main line. The questions wouldn't go away, and the more he tried to ignore them the more space they consumed. Had Katya been truthful that Sasha hadn't disclosed anything noteworthy about the Veteran Stalker? Everyone seemed to be slowly forgetting about him but he was just as alive as ever in Mikhail's mind. And he was still haunting Sasha's conscience too, even though she had seemed so cheerful lately. Was she putting on an artificially joyful façade just like Katya? Did she have the invisible mask? Was she trying to protect herself? Had Mikhail given her a reason to withhold things from him? A reason to fear his reactions? He had kept up his own walls for years, how is it that he was unable to detect hers?
He had nearly overlooked the fact that the excruciating despair was still lurking under the surface, it didn't just go away even though they were back together. The new foundation was built on top of the unstable pile of memories and mindsets that still hadn't solidified. 'Either find a way to help her or else leave her alone,' Katya instructed. Leaving her alone is not an option. Is there a way I can console her and get her to talk about Hunter at the same time? She didn't mind telling me the story about how they met, how he helped her get away from Chinatown, and how she got his name. Then he told her to come here if something happened to him. What happened in between?
Thankfully the autopilot had carried him to the barracks this time, the subconscious reminder about the book he promised to bring prevailed. He heard Ulman's voice on the main level but Mikhail decided to avoid him. He didn't want to imagine what kind of spitefulness the Comedian was capable of when his patience wore out. He was probably far more ruthless than Katya. Was his outlandish charisma an act, too? Was anyone ever truly themselves? If not, then how well did anyone really know each other? At least in that regard Mikhail wasn't an outlier with the notion of his invisible mask and stone walls. But whether he displayed the rest of his authenticity externally or not, he had always prided himself on his stealth capabilities, so he snuck up to his room to retrieve the heavy book and left the barracks again without alerting anyone to his presence. Is there anything else I need to do before Sasha gets out of surgery? I've done a lot so far. I think that's enough of the list for one day. Except, there's one more person I might run into on my way back…
When Mikhail finally reentered the med bay, he approached the registration desk where he correctly expected to see Nataliya. She was sitting stiffly with her eyes absorbed in a glowing screen as she was sipping a cup of tea. He set the book down and folded his arms together on the high countertop.
"You're on my list," he declared quietly. This time, the words didn't abandon him. Nataliya had known him even longer than Melnik had, although he regularly tried to pretend that he didn't know the medical staff as well as he really did. He looked down at her and all he could think about were the hazy little flashes of his time in the hospital in Polis. I'm glad Sasha wasn't there to see me like that… so, she must not want me to see her like that either.
"List?" Nataliya asked cautiously, blinking her eyes several times to disconnect from the screen.
"Reconciliation," Mikhail gave a little nod and waited for her to make eye contact, sensing that his confessions wouldn't sink in until she was focused on him.
"She's the one you were calling for. It's a miracle. You know that now, right?" Nataliya displayed her sweet little knowing smile. She really was so humble, and she was also slyly assessing his mental status with that last question.
"Yeah, I really thought she was—" Mikhail closed his eyes and blocked out the end of the sentence as if speaking it would affect Sasha's health.
"I know what you thought. And you don't owe me anything, Lieutenant." She reached up and put a consolatory hand on his arm momentarily.
"I disagree," he shook his head and concentrated on the present. "If not for my own sake, then hers. Doesn't matter if it's your job or not, you still deserve recognition. If I had to choose anyone to take care of her, I'd pick you first. And you helped Artyom when I was too stubborn to be here for either of them."
"I'm just happy you didn't get admitted yourself," she smiled as she said the same thing to him that she had the other day.
"Yeah… well, thanks for not telling her about that. If she knew I was caged up in here just two months ago…" Mikhail glanced down the nearby hallway where he had been kept on a scheduled section hold.
"I'm sure she mourns the same anniversary. She's been through a lot…" Nataliya sighed quietly but then after a solemn minute she enlivened her face again. The women associated with the Order were truly unfaltering pillars of emotional strength, he envied them once again but then reminded himself that they didn't enjoy deflecting the painful sentiments. "Anyway, the world may have ended but doctor-patient confidentiality is still in effect."
"I'll probably end up tellin' her anyway," Mikhail mumbled to himself, trying not to imagine that conversation. He still wanted to prove his tenacity to Sasha but admitting the power she had over his mind was, at the least, an affirmation of how much she meant to him. There must be an endearing way to explain it without evoking more pity.
"Are you finally going to forgive yourself?" Mikhail was momentarily stunned by the question, and he didn't know the answer anyway. His own name wasn't on the list. He was also surprised and a bit frustrated by the fact that Nataliya still hadn't specifically accepted his gratitude.
"Depends. What does it say in her chart?" He looked at her intensely even though he suspected he wouldn't get an answer.
"What did I just say?" She angled her face downwards.
Doctor-patient confidentiality applied to everyone, and yet Artyom knew all about her diagnoses and treatments. If Mikhail had stayed with her the whole time, would he have been named as her proxy instead? He remembered every mark he'd seen on her when they got her out of the cell but there were a lot of unseen injuries, too. 'She's hurting inside and out.' It's all in the chart but everyone keeps telling me not to read it. There must be something really bad in there. Would he be able to resist the temptation? Would he even understand the medical terminology and shorthand scribbling the doctors used? Nataliya clarified the situation for him because he hadn't answered her. She seemed to want some kind of guarantee from him but he couldn't strictly promise anything.
"Would you want her reading your file?"
"It's my fault," he mumbled. He would probably never be able to forgive himself.
"All you can do is be with her, right now." She stressed the last word as a call to action and he retracted his arms from the desk.
"Thank you," he offered again generically. "I'm sorry I waited so long to come down here and for making you worry. I won't do it again."
Nataliya didn't have a response but he sensed that she accepted his statements. She went back to her tea and the blue screen and he took the book and headed for Sasha's room in the back of the sector. Maybe he could reflect on some of these new questions and musings with Artyom but he didn't want to drag the poor young man any deeper into his negativity. I've got to sort this out before she gets back. I don't want it to affect me while I'm trying to take care of her.
The small private room seemed so barren without the large rolling bed that normally took up the back third of the space, and additionally desolate without Sasha. But he forced himself to stand in this reclusive vacuum of uncertain energy as he reexamined his list of individuals and list of worries. Just being back in her room, their room, began to alleviate the weight of everything he had picked up on his apology tour. Some of the good things are still in here. Everything we've been creating together. Hope, gratitude, sensuality, good dreams. What did I say I was going to tell her about? There was some silly joke, wasn't there? About my putrid clothes. And when I was with Artyom… yes, we were going to tell her why he was at Novokuznetskaya that day… she won't believe it. I can't wait to see her smile again. And you need to tell her what you told him, about how she made you feel when you met her. You never said those kinds of things back then; you didn't appreciate her enough and the universe punished you for it. You have to tell her before anything—no, stop it! She's fine. Nataliya would have said something if… everything is fine. She'll be back real soon, you've almost made it, just keep holding on.
What else? Should I really tell her about when I was here in the hospital myself? No. She doesn't need to know about that right now. I don't want to make her feel worse, I don't want her to pity me. I want her to… I want her to talk to me more. I want to hear everything. She told me about what she and Ivanovich did, how they escaped, how they got to Novokuznetskaya, and how she came to be in charge of Avtozavodskaya and The Red Arrow. She's so incredible, more than I ever imagined. How long did it take her to learn all the things she knows now? Most of her lessons came from… Hunter. There he is again. I can't avoid talking about him forever. Maybe I should… if I tell her about all the time I spent with him when he was my partner, then maybe she'll understand why it feels so strange, so unsettling. If I tell her what he meant to me then maybe she'll tell me how she feels about him in return. But I can't pressure her. If I push her about it, she'll only drift further away. 'You need to give her time to accept it. How would you have comforted her over your own loss?' I would have… held her and… listened… let her cry…
She's been so thoughtful, so adorable, so amazing, but she's still hurting so much. Is she faking it? Pretending? For me? Or is she in denial about her condition? Trying not to think about what happened in the Second Unit, what those bastards did to her; eight days ago, three years ago, eight years ago. She's going through it all over again, partially because of me. This is exactly what I didn't want! I don't want to remind her of the bad things. And she feels sorry for me when she's the one who needs the most sympathy. She's been fighting for so long… she's been through so much… she must be so tired.
I wish I could take all your pain away, darling, but how can I do that if you won't tell me what hurts? I can see the same injuries that the doctors do but what hurts on the inside? Your head? Your heart? Wait… is that why…? Is that it? Did Hunter hurt her somehow? It can't be… not intentionally… he better not have. But if he's really gone, and she misses him… then, that makes sense. That's at least one part of her pain. Then that means… no, I don't really care what their relationship was. I don't think he was better than me. I think it's the opposite: he wasn't good enough for her. He should have done better. He should be here but he's not. And I am. If she really wanted him, needed him… if he truly loved her then he would be here right now. She deserves so much more. And I'm going to be what she deserves, what she wants, what she needs. I'm still everything to her. And she's everything to me. I won't fuck this up a second time. I won't let anything else happen to her. I'll do whatever it takes… I'll do anything for her. Is it time yet?
He didn't even look at his watch, he was more than ready for whatever came next. He set the architecture book down on the little table between the chairs and then swiftly headed for the waiting room. Sasha would be back any minute, and he was going to be there for her.