Collaboration with @silmarilz1701
Svetlana knew how to play the game. She'd been caught in the political drama of Stalin's inner circle since birth. The only child of one of Stalin's closest friends, she grew up in the limelight, scrutinized by frie...
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Sveta hadn't expected to be in England forever, but she certainly thought they'd have more than a couple of weeks to prepare for jumping back into Europe. Her hands clenched and then released as she turned from the table in Regimental HQ. Other men, mostly lieutenants of 1st Battalion, crowded the door. Even without knowing what they said, the grumbling tones told her enough. No one was happy.
"So much for a break," Harry muttered. "Shit."
As she moved into the hall, he came to stand next to her. Sveta watched as he fidgeted with a button on his dress uniform. She could see the fear in his body, in his abnormal movements. She couldn't blame him. "No rest for the weary, Harry."
"That goes without saying."
Surrounded by other officers just as weary as them, Sveta and Harry made their way into the sunlight. Her newly issued Captain's bars reflected the light. She smiled. As much as she joked with Ron about the promotion, it did feel nice. It felt like maybe they trusted her a bit more, and maybe she could trust them.
"Are you heading over to the Mess hall?" Harry asked her. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he turned to look at her. "I hear Gordon's planning a performance in honor of his return."
Sveta smiled. But she shook her head. "Not right away, I don't think."
He shrugged, then turned away. She watched as his back receded. Compton soon joined him, his gait recognizable even without the way his blond hair blinded onlookers in the sunlight. All around her, men trickled out. Mostly officers, but not all, Sveta watched them go from her spot against the red brick walls. She let herself relax with the stone to anchor her.
As she stood there, breathing, Sveta faded into the background. That skill had almost disappeared after August 1940. Before then, as a teenager, she'd gotten so good at hiding in plain sight that her mother had called her a ghost. There was power in being forgotten. Before Beria, Sveta had perfected that. She'd learned how to work in the shadows, how to watch and listen and imitate.
She'd almost forgotten what that felt like, working from the shadows.
Before long, the crowd of officers that had flooded out of HQ after the briefing had disappeared. Some were inside, like Nixon and Winters. Some had left to grab last minute drinks, as she didn't doubt Harry and Compton would do before long. But only she still stood outside. Her thoughts wandered to Ron. She wondered where he'd gone off to. They'd shared an exasperated expression across the conference room more than once during the briefing.
A pair of familiar voices pulled her attention away from her musings. She found the source not far away. A motorcycle and sidecar sat just at the end of the building. Newly promoted Sergeant Malarkey and Alton More stood chatting a bit louder than she imagined they knew. The beers each held made her roll her eyes, but she couldn't help her smile.
"Hey! The key's still in it."
"It's like they wanted us to borrow it, Don."
Sveta pushed herself off the bricks. She started over, not sure exactly what she was going to do. But the appearance of a glaring Staff Sergeant made up her mind for her. As they climbed onto the motorcycle, he started shouting.
