Lost Count

Respite

It wasn't long after Pavel fell asleep when Artyom decided to stand up and walk around their little camp. His legs were sore from crouching and running around with his heavy gear on. While he got used to the weight, it was still a struggle to heft around for long periods of time. A lot of said gear had been discarded when they decided to rest, but both Artyom and Pavel kept a fair amount on in order to make a quick escape if needed. Artyom balled his hands into fists and pressed them into the small of his back, kneading the stiff muscles there with a small groan.

He did a few laps around the fire and then sat back down, facing away from the sleeping Pavel. That man really could get on his nerves sometimes, what with his staring and general disregard for privacy. But they were still friends, as they bonded through their capture and subsequent saving of each other's lives. Artyom was glad to call Pavel his friend, and they were almost at the Teatre which was one step closer to Polis. Pavel said that there was just a short distance to cross once they got above ground before they made it to the entrance of the station. The current stop that they had made wasn't particularly good for schedule, but Artyom knew when to call the shots.

During their journey to Teatre Artyom noticed Pavel dragging his feet more and more, shoulders slumping under the weight of his pack. That was what made him suggest the brief rest. Pavel would only end up getting himself killed if he continued. Being tired left much room for errors, and that just wasn't something that you could afford in the Metro or on the surface. So it was safer to hunker down and get a few minutes or hours of shuteye before continuing on your journey to wherever you were going. That was something you could afford when you had a partner, and was probably one of the only reasons why Artyom ever enjoyed traveling with someone else. The ability to sleep in shifts and make sure you weren't about to get slaughtered in your sleep.

There wasn't much to do while being on watch for the time being, so Artyom attempted to find a way to entertain himself while still staying on full alert. His eyes roamed the tunnel in the light of the fire, searching for something, anything. There was a panel of wood standing up against the wall of the tunnel about ten meters away. It wasn't very big He sized it up with his eyes before pulling out a throwing knife from his boot and taking aim.

Might as well practice while he was waiting. Anything to stay awake.

He let the knife loose and watched it whistle through the air before hitting the board. It was at a slight angle and a little bit crooked, but buried deep into the wood. Artyom pulled out another knife and continued aiming and throwing until he ran out. One of the knives hit the board strangely and just bounced off, testament to his need of practice. Artyom stood and walked over to it, yanking out the knives that hit their target and picking up the one that fell to the ground.

When he walked back to the fire, he took a glance at Pavel in order to make sure he was still asleep and safe. All was well; the man was sprawled out on the ground in a position that looked anything but comfortable. Yet he was sound asleep, and Artyom shook his head in disbelief. He wouldn't be surprised if he started snoring any minute, that was just how peaceful he looked. How anyone could ever relax enough to sleep that well was beyond him.

Artyom practiced his throwing a few more times, letting his body fall into routine with the knives. His aim got better as he worked, eventually improving enough for Artyom to nod with satisfaction at his progress. There was something to be said about being able to just sit down and perfect your techniques, without having to worry about wasting resources or dying horribly to mutants in the event of failure. He twirled the knife around his hand once before shoving it back down into his boot. As Artyom stared into the fire by his feet, he found himself missing his guitar back home.

He wished to play it just one more time. That was another thing he enjoyed doing; tuning and strumming aimlessly at the instrument, working out what sounded good. Not much did, but Artyom worked with what he could and ended up with a few sound melodies that he was particularly fond of. Maybe Pavel would have enjoyed to hear me play, too. Artyom thought to himself, looking over again at the sleeping man. He had turned over and had his head pillowed under his arm, neck bared in an unconscious show of vulnerability.

Artyom could see the bruises wrapped around his throat from where he sat. It was an unsettling sight, the discolored flesh standing out pinkish-red and beginning to turn purple. The Ranger swallowed thickly, almost being able to feel the rope himself. Pavel was lucky Artyom had gotten there in time, any longer and he might've suffered worse damage from the noose. His heart leaped into his own throat at the thought of what could've happened if he was too late. The sick feeling of almost failing a comrade just wouldn't leave his stomach; Pavel had almost become a casualty of the Metro because of Artyom.

He wondered if it still hurt, as Pavel's voice was still the slightest bit scratchy even now.

~*~

Artyom shook Pavel's shoulder lightly, mumbling a short greeting in order to get him to wake up. It took a bit of effort, as it seemed that Pavel was a heavy sleeper. So Artyom shook him harder, already preparing for a possible hostile reaction at the disturbance. It was never safe in the Metro; always be ready for an attack. He was proven right when the other man nearly jumped up from where he lay, hand already reaching for the pistol strapped to his hip. Artyom moved quickly, covering Pavel's hand with his own and forcefully keeping the weapon holstered. Pavel struggled for a moment, shouting out angrily. Once his vision cleared and he saw it was Artyom who woke him, his face broke out into a wide grin.

"Artyomich! Be careful, chuvak. I nearly blew your head off." His response was a cocked brow and pursed lips. Artyom's hand made no move to remove itself, however, still cautious of his reaction. Yet his grip was more slack than before, no longer clenching his fingers tightly. Artyom had hunched over him in order to wake him, and when Pavel shot up into a sitting position their heads nearly bumped together. That disaster was only averted by Artyom moving away just slightly at the last moment. "Eh, what is it?" Pavel's eyes flicked down to their hands before focusing once more on Artyom's face. He hadn't realized just how close they were until now.

There was something in Artyom's eyes that Pavel recognized.

But it was gone in a flash as Artyom cleared his throat and pulled away, tilting his head towards the far end of the tunnel. It was a clear 'let's go' signal, but Pavel couldn't help but feel hesitant. "Artyom?" He asked as said man began gearing up to travel. "How long was I sleeping?" Artyom paused for a moment, looking at that handy watch of his before holding up two fingers behind him. "Two hours?! What did you even do, chuvak? Aren't you tired?" Artyom's response was a wordless shrug, and Pavel found himself annoyed at the man's lack of care for his own well-being. It reminded him of a few unlucky comrades that ended up butchered because of their carelessness.

Although Artyom seemed anything but careless as he geared up.