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: "Lost Within" – Fivefold, "Thousand Lifetimes" – Fire From the Gods (I put the acoustic version on the playlist but the regular version is great, too!)
Chapter Forty-Eight: The List
'Have a good dream this time,' she had commanded gently, and even his subconscious wanted to obey her. He couldn't say exactly what it was about yet there were lingering images of a beautiful landscape inside his mind. A clean blue lake, a grassy meadow with trees in the distance swaying in the light summer breeze, the sound of birds chittering with each other as they flocked from one tree to another. The sun was starting to list lazily towards the horizon as if it was falling asleep in the bed of fluffy orange clouds that cradled it. He tried to turn his gaze within the peaceful space, he felt that there was something significant behind him. He thought he had walked out here from a cozy little cottage. Was she still inside the house?
He turned his body and reached out, there was nothing but the atmosphere and yet his arm stopped half-way. Contracting his grip brought a loose handful of the woven blanket on the bed but the warmth of her body was absent.
"Sasha?" He picked his head up fearfully and tried not to jump to conclusions. This wasn't his barracks room but that made it even more confusing. The new reality hadn't fully set in yet.
"I'm right here, Mischa. Don't worry." Her voice was soft and calm. Not echoing, not fading away, it was close by.
"Where?" His eyes weren't quite awake yet. The blue fluorescent tube on the ceiling was nothing at all like the vermillion sunset. Come back to that place with me…
"Here," something rustled and she leaned closer and reached out for his hand. She had been in the cottage after all. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he took a breath once he felt her touch. This was the real world, nowhere near as picturesque anymore, and yet she was here in this reality too. That was the only beauty he needed. "What are you doing?"
"Reading. I wanted you to have some space and be comfortable, I couldn't get back to sleep." She was sitting in the chair closest to the bed with her splinted leg propped up on the other chair which she'd managed to situate across from her.
"I'm s—" he stopped himself in time so she didn't interject even though she still gave him that cautionary but sympathetic look. He shifted his upper body across the mattress so he could touch more of her, grabbing her wrist supportively. "Are you nervous?"
"A little… but I just want it to be over with so I can get back to normal already."
"Everything will be okay," he rubbed her arm and smiled to prove his faith in the idea. He didn't know why he wasn't nervous about it himself. Maybe it wouldn't hit him until she was taken into the operating room and out of sight. It will only be a few hours, you can handle it.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" She smiled back with her eyebrows raised.
"Both," he admitted as he pulled himself upright and then stretched his arms overhead. "How did you get over there?"
"Slowly," she laughed and put the book in her lap back on the table. From the new location of the creased pages, she'd been able to get through another few chapters on the biography of Vassily Zaytsev. How long had she been awake and out of reach? Even a minute was too long.
"I'll have to get you a different book pretty soon," he nodded towards the volume.
"What have you got? I didn't think you'd have much time to read, being a big important Lieutenant." She grinned, it was a joke and a compliment. She was proud of him, too.
"I'll have to look and see… I guess you're right. I haven't had much time for anything lately." He paused and tried to think what the topics were of the few dusty tomes he had sitting on his desk. They were mostly instructive and likely boring; history, militaria, world geography, mismatched encyclopedias, subjects that didn't matter anymore to anyone but him. Arseniy had offered to lend him a sci-fi novel he'd been reading but they both had better things to do and had forgotten about it. Come to think of it, where had his irritating novice been since the rescue mission? Arseniy had been assigned to assist Bravo team with the negotiations at Chekhovskaya but Mikhail hadn't seen him since then, though of course he'd been trying to avoid everybody anyway. "I wonder what Arseniy has been up to, if they assigned him to someone else."
"Your usual partner?" She guessed correctly on the first try. He really hadn't told her very much about what he'd been doing recently, besides the nervous breakdown and everything that had been done to retrieve her from the Second Unit.
"Yeah, he's… he can be a handful sometimes." Mikhail actually laughed about it.
Perhaps they stuck Arseniy with Ulman since Mikhail had been paired up with Artyom. They had done a lot together and had become an effective team ever since Artyom's diatribe in the Kremlin monorail station. Mikhail hoped that the arrangement would stay in place for a while longer, though he still didn't fully comprehend why he and Artyom got along so well right away. It was probably partly because of what Melnik had said about the young man, 'The kid's got a lot of heart and he isn't afraid to show it. You could learn something from that.' That had been true from the start, and maybe Artyom's fearlessly forthcoming nature had helped Mikhail to lower his own defenses. He also had a lot of heart, but he had kept it contained, imprisoned from everyone around him – both to shield himself from judgement and as a quarantine to safeguard outsiders from the dark shadows inside that had nearly consumed him.
"Oh? How so?" She copied his arm stretch as he moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and continue conversing with her. Get out of your own head and talk to her while you can.
"He never shuts up, for one," Mikhail got back on track and grumbled the usual complaint but Sasha laughed at him.
"You remember what it's like to be young and not have a care in the world," she mused as she began doing her leg stretches. "It's nice of you to protect him… shelter him from this cruel existence for as long as possible."
"I guess I… never really thought of it like that." He had never viewed the role of a senior in that way but her observation was enlightening. Everything would be different from now on and part of him was excited to start living his life with purpose and meaning. But the reality outside of this hospital room was still harsh, she had a point about cruel existence. "Usually, we're just in a hurry to get the recruits up to speed as quickly as possible… we're losing good people faster than we can replace them."
"With you as his partner? He'll be a pro in no time." She was able to avoid being drawn into his negativity. How was she able to do that so skillfully? Would she teach him how to navigate that kind of thing?
"Well, thanks, but I'm sure they probably assigned someone else to… Artyom is actually my… I think, still?" He processed the ideas out loud, still unsure who was the junior and who was the senior of their duo. Rank didn't mean anything in this current mission regarding Sasha's recovery but Melnik said that Artyom was in charge of the situation. Had that ended once Mikhail had finally come to see her? "I wonder how he's doing."
"I'm sure he's fine, probably happy for the break from dealing with my bullshit… and our bullshit." Sasha sighed heavily but then managed to make a cheerful expression again. So, she wasn't ignoring the negativity, she wasn't immune to it, she was choosing to deflect it. She was so strong. "I'd like to thank him for everything."
"Yeah… he'll be the first person I try to find while you're in there." He started to consider where he might find any of the people he was eager to speak to. Artyom was likely enjoying some well-deserved downtime after all this madness, so he might be in the barracks or the mess hall. Melnik was surely in his office, as usual, and would probably be impatient to hear from Mikhail since he had departed from their emotional conversation in stunned anxious silence three days ago. Did Artyom go to the Colonel and report that the final step of the mission had been a success? He must have.
"Already got a list, have you?" Her deductive reasoning was still on-point. How was he this lucky to have someone understand him so well without him saying anything?
"Of course. You don't even want to know how many people got involved in this." She knew about Artyom, Katya, and Melnik, but not the full extent of the convincing and pleading they had produced.
"Nataliya told me this morning that she was there when… when you got to Polis." The compassionate nurse had done her morning rounds without Mikhail waking up at all. What had Sasha's vital signs and pain level been today? He wished he knew for certain, but she didn't seem to be too uncomfortable. She had gotten set up in the chair all on her own and had barely cringed or hissed in pain as she did her stretches. Maybe his presence was helping her somehow. He gave her a reason to heal, a reason to live. I guess that makes us equal…
"Yeah… I remember her from back then, too." And now there was another person to add to the list.
"Don't worry, I already thanked her again." But Mikhail didn't subtract her despite the fact, because Nataliya had been here with Sasha the whole time, too. He had other reasons to be thankful for her.
"Then I'll thank her for taking care of you. None better." If Nataliya could handle a bullet-ridden amnesiac then a tortured girl with a broken leg couldn't be too difficult, right? But why was he comparing that kind of thing? Stop thinking about the bad shit!
"I'm sure she'd love to hear it."
Mikhail agreed but then gazed off, summoning what he remembered about Nataliya. Did she understand about their relationship this whole time? She was there eight years ago, assisting the doctors and surgeons as he lay half-dead on the operating table, continually calling out for his lost beloved. And she had apparently also been part of the current inner-circle which concerned their reunion here in the med bay. She had said how happy she was that Mikhail had finally arrived, she saw his name included on the visitation list and wondered why he had waited so long. Then she had taken the initiative to procure clearance from someone so that he could stay here full-time, and she was more than understanding and polite about everything.
"Are you going to be okay while I'm gone? Be honest." Sasha reached out to hold his hand again, always more concerned for him than for herself. She did remember that she was the patient here, right?
"I'll survive," he began the joke but then realized how serious it sounded because of the other extreme things he had survived. He wanted to reassure her. "I figured sitting around here waiting is no good. I've got some chores to occupy myself with. I should definitely change clothes and my rifle could use a scrub as much as me. I was thinking I'd show Artyom how to…"
"How to…?" she prompted after a few silent seconds.
"Did he really leave the Thread Cutter to you?" Mikhail of course had no idea of her significance when he'd been examining the Vintorez in the armory. He was still uneasy talking about Hunter but he was sure that jealousy wasn't part of that discomfort. Sasha was stunned by the question for a moment as she was probably trying to decipher what was left unsaid and what connected this question to his previous statements. She squinted at him as if determining how to respond, or as it turned out, how not to respond.
"You were going to show Artyom how to field strip it for cleaning?" She had already known that Artyom had carried the Vintorez during the rescue mission, so it was easy for her to guess his intention and attempt to finish his sentence like she had before.
"You didn't answer the—"
"Yes. He did." She stared right at him when she confirmed it in a tone that gave no hint of emotion, but he couldn't look back at her.
"I guess he really did love you…" Mikhail barely voiced it, then hoped she hadn't heard it at all, but it was a small room and just the two of them in it. He didn't feel anger or envy about it, only a strange gloom, as if he felt bad for not leaving anything so valuable to her before they were separated. But at least she had continued to stay in what had become their room, and back then she didn't know anything about firearms anyway. So, what else could he have left for her in order to prove his love? Would she want his Simonov if something were to happen to him now? Don't even imagine shit like that!
"And what's your weapon of choice?" She chose to ignore what he had said, at least for now, and continue the conversation only on the topic of armaments. Would she ever tell him the whole truth about Hunter? Why can't I stop thinking about it?
"Simonov. 1952. Tula Arsenal stamped." The words produced a momentary pause of dizzying déjà-vu. He'd said the exact same thing when Hunter asked him about it five years ago.
"That suits you," she looked over at him and smiled.
He managed to nod but then was absorbed in his thoughts again, this time imagining the implications of her response. What aspects of a Simonov could compare with the aspects of his personality? What had Hunter said about it? Solid, reliable. Old-fashioned? No, that can't be it. Simple? Semi-automatic? What's it supposed to mean? Should I ask her?
"I really need a shower, too." Sasha sniffed at her gown and wrinkled up her nose for emphasis. His attention switched back to her again and the questions faded, she was talking about getting naked and that took priority. "And when can I have my own clothes back?"
"How about never?" Mikhail said readily and exhibited his nostalgic mischievous smile.
"Oh, shush," but she was smiling delightfully at that sort of lecherous compliment. Forget the weapon stuff. It doesn't matter. She said you're still everything to her. She loves you just how you are. "But really, they said I had to bathe and use antibacterial soap before the surgery. I think I can manage it by myself this time."
"Are you sure? I can help." He was seriously concerned about her but she took it as a continuation of the joke.
"You'll help alright…" she kissed his cheek as he pulled her to her feet, well, foot.
"I can get you dirty and clean at the same time," the mischievous smirk returned.
"I'm not allowed to say no, am I?" she asked sarcastically.
Of course she was allowed to, and he preferred her honesty as well as her consent, but she had always known that. The phrase she used was her way of expressing her willingness without conceding a direct agreement. It was just more of their favorite game, trading cheeky words to see who would get the last laugh. They were falling back into their old familiar patterns so effortlessly, as if it was always meant to be. So, why did they have to suffer so much for so long if this was their destiny? Was the pain only meant to force them to appreciate each other even more? That was the only explanation he could think of.
"What do you think?" He pulled her in closer against him as if they were about to dance.
"I hate when you say that," but she was still smiling as she rolled her eyes and shook her head incredulously.
"You love it," he insisted, leaning in to kiss her again.
"I love you," she stressed before allowing his contact.
"I love you too. Never stopped." He held her lips for a long second to reinforce his response, and then there was the mischief again. "Now, how 'bout it?"
"I can't say no to you." She grinned and began to pull his shirt off. You can, but you don't.
Mikhail was sure that he would be an absolute wreck the minute they took her away, but the doctors were entirely optimistic and raring to complete this next step. The specialist surgeon from Hansa had arrived that morning and pored over Sasha's file and the x-rays, everything was already prepared for the operation. Vladimir had even included a heartwarming little note with the delivery of the metal plate that he had forged. 'The titanium for your plate came from the cylinder of a Taurus revolver, so now you can say you're as strong as a .357 Magnum! Get well soon.' Mikhail had been ready to explain what type of gun that was but Sasha already knew it, giving him a few specifications about its manufacture that she'd gotten from an old catalogue, and so he simply mused to himself again about how sexy her acquired knowledge was. When she was allowed to walk again, he couldn't wait to take her down to the firing range for a little friendly competition.
The anxiety that had been absent earlier was starting to creep in as she was being prepared for the surgery but thankfully Artyom had been kept abreast of the day's schedule. He was still her medical proxy, and so he arrived in the med bay bright and early but had decided not to intrude by coming to the ICU room. His partner was exactly the right kind of comforting to both of them, reassuring with a smile that they'd see each other again soon and that everything would be okay.
"I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going to miss it this time. I promise." Mikhail gently stroked the hair that framed her face as he committed himself to the pledge. You're so beautiful. I love you so much. I'll miss you. Come back soon, please.
"I know," she smiled back sweetly. She believed him, and that was so important.
"And I'll make sure of it." Artyom promised with a grin as he nudged Mikhail's arm.
"Thank you, Artyom. We owe you so much." Sasha grabbed his hand to squeeze it appreciatively.
"Don't worry about it. You'll be alright. We'll see you on the other side, Aleks." Artyom reassured again as the surgical team approached.
"Don't worry about me, worry about him." Sasha widened her eyes insistently and grabbed Mikhail's arm. Artyom shook his head and laughed but seemed to understand how serious she was because Mikhail didn't say anything to that and Artyom got quiet. Mikhail almost felt ashamed by how fragile she made him sound, reminding everyone again how he'd almost completely lost his mind a few days ago. He was determined to prove her wrong, show her how strong he still was, believing even harder in her swift recovery and their fortunate future.
Nataliya was there to place the IV line and read out all the current vital signs but then someone else took over to administer the anesthetic cocktail; the necessary sedative, more morphine, an undisclosed benzodiazepine, and prophylactic antibiotics. They asked Sasha to count down from ten but she faded out in the middle of the number seven.
"Alright, let's move out people!" Doctor Toporov commanded sternly as a nurse and an orderly took each end of the bed and started rolling it down the hall.
Mikhail stood still as they brought her into the cleanroom, remaining frozen there for one apprehensive moment before Artyom nudged him again and he took a breath. How was his partner and his other kind of partner so good at distracting him from all kinds of terrible thoughts? He gave Artyom a thankful pat in return and made his mouth smile so his brain would take the hint. Everything is going to be okay. You'll see her again shortly. Manifest it. Sasha was in good hands and the blessings the bunker provided would probably make all the difference. This setup was far more advanced than what they had constructed to be reminiscent of a hospital in Polis and he didn't even want to imagine what the Infirmary inside the Second Unit was like, beyond her brief description of it. If she had to be sick or injured anywhere, he was glad it was in D6.
"So, this is the real you, huh?" Artyom accused with amusement as they left the sector together.
"Yeah, I guess," Mikhail laughed nervously, he was still becoming reacquainted with his own personality so he didn't really know what to say. It was like he was re-learning about himself even though he did remember how he used to be. It was as if Sasha had held on to half of his traits, all the good ones, keeping them safe with her, and now she was back and he was whole again. People were already noticing the difference in him. "I'll never be able to repay you for everything you've done."
"Don't worry about it," Artyom held up a hand. "You're both happy and that's all that matters to me."
"Still," Mikhail trailed off in thought, trying to come up with some sort of solution but only finding more solemn regrets. "God, I was such an idiot."
"Hey, you went through so much, both of you. I can't imagine." Artyom didn't want to be any more specific or prompt more flashbacks.
"You're the first one I want to say all this to. I've been practicing… trying to think about how to say it but… augh, it's all gone to hell," he paused and took a breath and Artyom looked concerned. "Look, Artyom, you deserve a medal for dealing with all this shit. I'm sorry I was such a shitty partner, and I can't even begin to thank you properly."
"It's okay, really," Artyom laughed uncomfortably. "And you aren't a shitty partner. I mean, you were great at the conference, at Mayakovskaya, in the Second Unit. I had no idea you were a Lieutenant, though. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I dunno, it didn't really matter, did it? Once you laid into the Colonel and got the mission underway, everybody was focused on that. He only picked me out of the lineup because of my own history with the Reich… if only I knew back then. All the stuff you told me on the monorail… and, I just… should have gone to see her sooner. No, I should have stayed with her that whole time."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, she was in really rough shape. Probably best you didn't see her that way," Artyom pondered aloud, he hadn't told Mikhail very much about her recovery in those first few days. "Maybe you were kinda right about making her worse or whatever. With everything we had been talking about, I dunno if she'd have been able to handle everything all at once… but I am sure that she would have been the same way on the railcar as you."
"Stupid idiot," Mikhail whispered to himself and then tried to get back into the conversation. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know."
"I do know. Or did you already forget how she ran over to you even with a broken leg?" His partner crossed his arms and beamed.
"I didn't forget." He smiled warmly and gazed off to watch the memory of her reaction when she first saw him but then hoped once again that it hadn't made her injury any worse. The doctors had taken a new x-ray that morning and nobody said anything about it, so it was probably fine. "Alright, first order of business is a change of clothes. Do me a favor while I get squared away? See if you can find Katya and Ulman, I'd like to talk to them. I want to apologize to them and thank them for their parts."
"Sure, no trouble. I already saw Katya earlier in the kitchen, so I know she's around. And where she goes…" Artyom grinned knowingly even though it had taken him a while to realize that Ulman and Katya were dating and had been for several months.
"Right. But don't tell them what it's about, okay? I need to say it for myself. I can meet you in the mess hall in fifteen?"
"Gotcha. See you soon."
Mikhail waved his hand casually as he and Artyom diverged at the next junction of the bunker, smiling to himself, wait, no, it was external, too. He used the short time it took to reach his bunkroom to say more silent prayers for his wonderfully understanding partner. The barracks were nearly deserted, and he was thankful for that, too. He wouldn't have to exchange small talk or endure questions about where he had been, why he wasn't in uniform, or possibly, 'What's that shit-eating-grin on your face all about, Zakharovich?'
The little twinge of panic only bothered him for a minute, the uncertainty about people's reactions to seeing him for the first time with no invisible mask. Sure, he still wanted to keep the same secrets, maintain his carefully-constructed barricades, and shield against judgement but he was finally okay with portraying himself as a human being. He was no longer a ghost, no longer a walking corpse. His mind wasn't teetering on the brink between life and death, this reality and the next, not endlessly pining and searching for where his Sasha had gone to, where she was waiting for him. He knew exactly where she was.
The same grimy equipment was still laid out across his bed in neat rows, seeming alien to him as if a completely different person had set everything in its place like that. As if years had passed between then and now. And then he wondered again how long this blissful interlude with Sasha would last before some new threat popped up and demanded his intervention. Colonel Melnik might be having a hard time figuring out how to distribute Mikhail's normal duties to other officers, and hopefully nothing else catastrophic had occurred while he was in exile and in the med bay. He paused and took a purposeful breath. You can only worry about so much at one time. You haven't heard anything because there's nothing to hear. All these little mind tricks the psychologists had tried to teach him way back in Polis were starting to make more sense.
He changed clothes swiftly, only noting how disgusting the old garments were after he'd stuffed them into his laundry bag. Sure, he had been able to bathe in the med bay but hadn't wanted to leave Sasha's side for even the five minutes it would have taken to fetch a clean outfit. How had she put up with him smelling like that for the last few days? Maybe she broke her nose as well as her leg. 'Mischa, that's terrible! Don't say that!' He could already hear her scolding him about the asinine idea. He laughed to himself about it but likely wouldn't tell her about the horrendous joke. Okay, who was he kidding, of course he'd tell her. She would laugh, too, and probably smack him on the arm, but then she'd shake her head and kiss him. It would be worth it.
What else am I here, for? He looked around for clues. Right, what books do I have? The top of the pile was just as dusty as he imagined and he brushed off the cover delicately. The earlier guesses were eerily close to the titles at hand, his memory was better than he thought. 'The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,' 'The American Civil War.' No way, she would hate those. But wait a minute, could he be sure that he still knew what all her interests and aversions were? So much had changed in eight years and he felt that sinking feeling for a moment before trying to talk himself out of it. Just pick the one you think she'll like best and you can tell her the other titles so she can choose for herself. That was an encouraging idea, he stuck with it. Okay, what else is there? 'Atlas of the World: 1991,' Why do I even have that? 'A Brief History of Time.' Quantum fucking Entanglement. Definitely no. 'Encyclopedia Britannica, Volume XXIX: SER-WYL.' Somebody gave me that, I can't remember who. Maybe it was… Anya? 'SER.' Yeah, when I got promoted to Sergeant. She's funny and thoughtful like that, too bad she doesn't show it. I guess we're kinda similar after all. Melnik will be thrilled. And finally, 'Global Architecture Design in the 20th Century, A Visual Guide.' Hmm… she might like that. But it was a rather large format, what they used to call a 'coffee table book,' so he decided to pick it up on the way back to the med bay later. Alright, time to see Katya and Ulman. Let's do this.
Artyom was standing just inside the mess hall talking with a group of men which included Ulman and Dukov but not Arseniy. Maybe he's with someone else? Or maybe he got time off the same as me? Dukov looked over at Mikhail and displayed his usual wide grin but remained where he was, probably remembering the last time he'd tried to approach him at the very worst moment: when he was running away from the med bay right after the rescue mission. Mikhail sighed regretfully and added another name to the list. I'll have to apologize to him, too. Damn, I really fucked up. Ulman waved his hand for a second but his face was serious and everyone was focused intently on another member of the circle who was leading the conversation. Must be an interesting story. I hope nothing bad happened. Mikhail wasn't in a rush to talk to Ulman but Artyom seemed to have warned him about the inbound communication. His partner excused himself from the group and came over to him.
"You look good," Artyom nodded with a smirk at his outfit. He had put on the same light blue shirt that he'd worn to Mayakovskaya because blue was Sasha's favorite color. And did she still have that blue floral dress that Mikhail liked so much? The one she was wearing when they met, and when they had their first kiss, and… on the day he died. Stop! He commanded himself.
"I smell better at least," Mikhail chuckled but then looked around the sector anxiously.
"I'll go keep an eye on the stove so you can talk to Katya," Artyom offered quickly and set off to do just that before Mikhail could say anything else.
He took a deep breath and looked at the nearest table but couldn't convince himself that it was okay to sit down. He worried for a minute that the group of Rangers and various other scattered people eating their lunch would hear what he was about to say but he wasn't about to change his mind. In fact, maybe it was best that everything came out into the open so people would stop whispering and trying to come up with their own ideas. He didn't really know if anyone else in the bunker had heard about his recent chaos, and even Melnik had joked that Ulman wouldn't be able to keep his secrets forever. But somehow, he had a strong feeling that Ulman and the others involved in this tumultuous saga had kept their word. Nobody would want to hear the kind of gossip that concerned executions and torture in the Second Unit. But the element of lost love being found again? People would have a field day just finding out that Mikhail cared about anybody like that at all. And there was still the string of rumors going around about Sasha and Hunter. His stomach started to knot up inside.
"Hey, Sparrow. What's up?" Katya greeted him as usual with only a hint of apprehension in her mild voice but she was already smiling. She probably knew what he was here for but he had to say it anyway.
"Katya, I'm really sorry for how I spoke to you in the graveyard," he tried to start getting the chosen words out immediately so he wouldn't lose them like he had with Artyom. He took a step closer, showing a tense kind of frown as he was concentrating and clenching his hands as if to hold onto his thoughts but they were already scrambling. "You were just trying to help and… I was such a…"
"A big idiot?" Katya grinned and came forward to hug him without warning.
"Way worse than that," he couldn't come up with a word harsh enough to insult himself with and he tried to refuse her embrace as usual – because he didn't feel as though he deserved the comfort. But wait a minute, that's the point, and she did deserve it. He suddenly understood that she'd been trying to form this bond with him for a long time and it had already begun forming when he finally let her see under the invisible mask. No, when she shared her story first. This construction of this connection couldn't be undone even if he wanted it to be. This hug isn't for me. Well, maybe a little but… this is what she wants. Finally, he came up with his insult. "I was a grade-A asshole to you, and I'm sorry you even had to see any of that."
"You were in pain, Mischa, it's okay. We're even, anyway." She continued to hold onto him until he accepted her. "I know you never let anybody in, so just let me feel special about it."
"It wasn't okay… but thanks for understanding. And your story was… fuck… but you came back from it, you're so strong and… I barely made it at all, this whole time just a ghost of myself. I guess that's why Melnik sent you over anybody else." He finally returned her hug but it was still uncomfortable. He tried to back away but she wouldn't let go. Shit. I'm stuck, now.
"Pretty much! But I don't care if you tell people where I'm from or whatever. It took me a while to learn how to live again, it's not magic, and it didn't happen overnight. And then I had to learn all about ballistics and windage and ranks and acronyms… y'know, all that." Her natural enthusiasm was still in full effect even as she explained this awfulness, but this was his first hint as to how she was able to move on in her life and enjoy it again. If she could overcome her pain, so could he.
"I'm not gonna say anything to anybody," he promised sincerely, still convinced that her upbringing was more severe than his singular tragedy.
"Well, I'm definitely not going to tell your story." She believed the opposite. She finally let him go as she dropped her voice to express seriousness and revulsion. He felt more assured that there was no fresh rumors concerning him.
"Hey, that's my girl you're huggin' there," Ulman spoke up jovially as he closed in beside them, having finished up with his other conversation and the group of Rangers dispersed and left the hall. Dukov had disappeared before Mikhail could catch him.
Mikhail turned to face the Comedian with a wholly uncertain expression, not even sure where to start. He had heard of Ulman's role in this whole blasted operation, that he had gone to cheer Sasha up when she was at her worst and helped quell Artyom's anxiety when Mikhail wasn't there for him.
"Staff Sergeant," Mikhail addressed him formally and extended his hand stiffly.
"Uh-uh," Ulman shook his head and grinned before grasping Mikhail's hand with force, drawing him in, and patting him on the back. "You ain't leavin' me out, you shithead."
"I'm sorry," he had to make sure he said the phrase with clarity at least once to everybody. "I didn't handle myself very well on the railcar, I said some pretty harsh things to you that I didn't mean. I'm glad you were with us on the rescue squad, everything went well because of your hard work."
"Eh, it's alright. I figure I'm a big pain in your ass most of the time so I guess it's only fair that you dish it back out once in a while." The Comedian released him and Mikhail caught sight of his uncharacteristically pensive stare. Was Ulman upset about something else? Oh, is he offended somehow because Artyom got assigned to… that I got assigned to Artyom? He meant to mention it anyway.
"I'm sorry I stole your partner. They didn't stick you with Senya, did they?"
"Nah, he's been paired up with Romanov for a bit, so you can feel bad for him instead." Ulman chuckled knowingly. Mikhail shook his head with a slight grin, relieved to hear that his old partner was being looked after by someone he trusted. Okay, we did the apology, now the thanking.
"Thank you for your part in all this, as well, Artyom told me you went to visit Sasha the other day and made her feel better."
"Still weird to hear you call her that," Katya mused softly to herself.
"Well, I knew her first. I've got ten years on all of you, so which of us is right?" Mikhail showed a cheeky kind of sneer.
"I guess it's you, then," she grinned back.
"But I'm the only one who gets to call her Sasha, so don't try it," he made a purposefully stern face even though he could tell from Katya's cunning expression that she would probably attempt it at least once the next time she went to visit the med bay.
"Look, Mischa… if I had known about all that crap from the Reich, I never would have badgered you like that." Ulman began to make his own apology but Mikhail couldn't understand why. Katya must have told her boyfriend all the details of his story that she couldn't tell anyone else. Maybe that's why he sounded so regretful but Mikhail wasn't angry about him knowing. "I had no idea that everything was as serious as it was, and I'm sorry you and Aleks went through that bullshit back then. It's not fair at all. They shouldn't be allowed to get away with doing shit like that. I mean, they really fuckin' shot you?"
Mikhail stealthily glanced around before gravely nodding his head and Ulman's face twisted up painfully. Katya told him everything.
"If you're looking out for Varnayev then join the waiting list," Katya spoke intently this time and with a look of fierce determination.
"Going after him won't solve anything," Mikhail was almost surprised to hear himself make the statement. Generally, he tried his best to push that name and the man it belonged to as deep into the darkest depths of his mind as he could. It was just easier that way. So, the sooner everybody else stopped talking about him, the sooner he could forget again. But if I do ever see him anywhere…
"Wow, you really have changed!" Ulman snickered and shook his head. "I thought you'd be out for blood."
"I was at first, when I didn't know what else to do. I went up to see the listening post for myself… but it doesn't matter now. I just want to move forward… with her," he stressed. Suddenly he was worrying about Sasha and how the surgery was going, looking over his shoulder at the sector doors and then wondering what was taking Artyom so long in the kitchen.
"Is that what you were always thinking about? Sasha? You always had this same look on your face," Katya couldn't hold back her curiosity and tested out the other nickname, then she pointed right at him as he looked back from the door. "Yeah, that one!"
"I… yeah… mostly," Mikhail admitted all too readily even though he didn't know he made an unconscious expression every time she was on his mind. Katya really did take notice and care about people, and he was finally starting to appreciate it. He decided that she deserved a clearer answer. "I lived every day like a penance for her, trying to remember her, trying to make up for what I… for what happened." He was specific with his words that time because Sasha wouldn't keep letting him blame himself. None of their friends would. It's not your fault.
"You big softie!" Ulman accused and clapped his shoulder again.
"That's so sweet, Mischa, but I can't imagine. And all this time you were mourning her. Well, I'm just so glad it worked out! Didn't we tell you?" Katya bounced on her toes a bit, seeming to just barely resist the urge to hug him again.
"Yeah, I know. You and everybody else," he admitted again quietly, eternally ashamed for not listening to them sooner. 'She still needs you,' Katya had said it twice. She was right, he did change his mind about avoiding her, and now Sasha was getting better.
"So, when are you finally getting married?" Artyom asked as he emerged from the kitchen with a telling smile. Apparently, he'd heard most of what they had all been talking about through the open serving window.
"I, uh…" Mikhail hadn't gotten that far in his daydreams yet, he was still trying so hard to stay in the present.
"Oh my God! Are you going to ask her?" Katya pressed excitedly. "Do you need our help again?"
"She's gotta see it comin' I bet," Ulman nodded, trying to infer that Mikhail wouldn't have to worry about a negative answer.
"I think we… I think it should wait until… until after Hunter's funeral," Mikhail hung his head and felt guilty for turning the conversation to such a thing. They had all just built up a calm and optimistic atmosphere and he was ruining it with his dark thoughts again. Maybe once we've had his memorial, I can stop thinking about him and Sasha.
"Mm, makes sense," Ulman seemed to understand straight away.
"You're right, I think it'll be better that way for everyone," Katya wasn't looking at anyone in particular, gazing off as she constructed the rest of her thoughts out loud. "We can lay a piece of our hearts to rest, and then there will be a ceremony to celebrate new beginnings."
"We could have it right here in the mess hall, just turn the tables a bit, it can fit a lot of people, chow is right here, and we could decorate," Artyom thought out loud as he pointed around the sector.
"I bet Melnik would be glad to officiate, even if he makes us twist his arm," Ulman joined the brainstorm.
"You guys are planning this whether I like it or not, huh?" Mikhail suddenly smiled and looked around at everyone, understanding that his comrades were going to continue to be involved in his life, in Sasha's life, and that this strange and emotional mission concerning them was never truly over.
"It's been way too long since we've had a wedding!" Katya shook her fists excitedly, her eyes were twinkling with dreamy ideas. "Do you think Aleks will make her own dress?"
"I bet she won't want to wear something so girly," Ulman submitted with his usual lopsided grin. "She's all rough-and-tumble now, fighting alongside the boys. She's not just your innocent little seamstress anymore Mischa."
"She always had a strong spirit," Mikhail insisted in rapid defense of her, trying to convey that her untamed personality was what attracted him in the first place. "I was never into those braindead paper-doll types… well, not for more than a few days, anyway."
"Will you look at the balls on this kid?" Ulman laughed incredulously. "Next you're gonna tell me you were all the rage back then, with your fancy uniform."
"I was, actually," but Mikhail didn't smile about it, already regretting the commentary he had made. Goddamn it, why did you have to say that? Now they're going to make you explain.
"No shit," Ulman lost his own smile. "I always had a hunch you used to be some kinda playboy. How many before you got to Aleks?"
"I'm not telling you that!" Mikhail was exasperated but adamant. He wasn't willing to divulge anything about his sordid younger years. He truly wished that those memories had stayed gone, maybe he could still make that excuse.
"Ohh shit! That means it's either really high or really low," Ulman accused and tried to decide for himself by raising and lowering his hands as if weighing the options physically.
"Oh, fuck off!" He tried not to give anything away in his tone of voice and wouldn't look the Comedian in the face.
"Come on, I won't tell! I won't tell Aleks anyway," Ulman prodded at his arm and spoke a little quieter to try to convince him.
"She knows the number. I don't keep secrets from her," Mikhail frowned and looked ashamed but still refused to elaborate. He glanced over at Artyom but his partner didn't seem to know how to help.
"And you still swear you didn't touch anybody after you got shot? Cause I call preemptive bullshit on that!" Ulman looked pensive again, one hand stroking his short beard.
"Ulman!" Katya finally tried to intervene with a stern scowl and a smack on the shoulder but the Comedian wouldn't let up.
"I don't re—" Mikhail brought out his usual defense.
"Don't you try to say you don't remember!" Ulman poked at him again.
"Fine! God… I was with one girl in Polis… when I didn't remember anything, when I wasn't myself. And it wasn't serious at all, we only dated for like three months and she married a Kshatriya. I was like her rebound or something, and then she got back together with him for good." He paused, already wishing he could take the confession back, Ulman's eyebrows were still raised and even Artyom looked curious. Well, it was too late to take it all back, now. "If you include her with the others from before Sasha…" Mikhail tried to make his voice as low as possible as he stared at the floor. Everyone tensed up and seemed to lean forwards as they awaited the exact measurement of his prior shameless affairs. "Seventeen."
"No fucking way! Holy shit." Ulman gasped but then of course tried to make a joke out of his discomfort. "I didn't even know they had that many girls in the Reich!"
"Wow, and we all thought you were—" Katya put a hand over her mouth and cut herself short.
"Thought I was what?" Mikhail shot her a look of annoyance. What could be worse than being considered a manwhore? Impotence? Submissiveness? Cuckholding?
"The whole sniper division thought you were queer," Ulman reported flatly and Katya looked stern again and punched him on the arm.
"You're fucking kidding me!" Mikhail burst out with incredulous laughter. He never would have come up with that conclusion on his own.
"It's true," Artyom confirmed as he tried to restrain his amusement. "I dunno why but I kinda thought that at first, too."
"I'm sorry, Mischa!" Now Katya was apologizing anxiously.
"What are you sorry for? That's hilarious! Even Artyom thought so!" Ulman corrected her through his giggles because Mikhail was still laughing, too.
"For fuck sake," Mikhail managed to get a hold of himself before creating a new threat to everyone in the room. "You guys better not tell anybody about this shit! None of it! But you can go ahead and un-do those fuckin' rumors Katya!"
"Oh, don't worry, it's totally obvious now," Katya grinned, implying that the girls in the sniper division had already updated their gossip circle concerning his sexuality. God, do I even want to know what they talk about? How come Anya didn't tell them I was straight? I hope Sasha won't say anything about me to them. Well, if she does at least I don't have to worry about complaints or anything like that... you don't get to eighteen by being bad at it. He smiled again but tried to hide it.
"It was hard enough keeping it all between us," Ulman started and then raised a hand solemnly. "But we've been working hard to keep your situation out of people's ears. I'll swear on my mother's grave."
So, he really could trust Ulman to keep the secret forever, but he only said the 'thank you' in his head that time.
"Just wait until everybody hears about the wedding, though…" Katya trailed off intentionally and Mikhail almost felt nervous. He never wanted to be the center of attention in any regard, and he still hated the nature of rumors in general. He didn't mind word spreading about the wedding, at the right time, but with that news would likely emerge the rest of the narrative of his and Sasha's lives. And he didn't want her to be the last person to find out about the proposed ceremony. At least let me ask her first! …and please let her say 'yes.'
"None of it," Mikhail held up a strong finger to indicate that their entire conversation was to be kept between their group.
Katya joined Ulman's gesture of the solemnly raised hand to submit her promise. Though she'd probably still end up telling the other women about the wedding prematurely. At least they could all keep it between themselves, for the most part the women were good at segregating their gossip from the rest of the force. And Sasha was going to be in the med bay for a bit longer, so she wouldn't end up overhearing it by accident.
"You still wanna go to the armory?" Artyom spoke up as he checked his watch.
"Yeah, I really should clean my rifle before it gets too bad. And Sasha will appreciate you taking care of the Thread Cutter for her." Mikhail gave a brief wave to Katya and Ulman. "Thank you both again. I'll see you later."
"Don't worry about it!" The Comedian and the Sniper said in unison as if they had been rehearsing it along with Artyom who kept saying the very same thing. Good, that's two people taken care of. Who's next?