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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"You ever been to Paris, Casmirovna?" Since being told that her name was not the one attached to her rank, Nixon had taken to adding a certain inflection on the word. If a word could smirk, Nixon would have managed to assign that ability to her patronymic.
After nearly a month's silence, he approached her in the mess tent, midmeal, and Zhanna's heart skipped a beat. This was it. Nixon, always the one for dramatics, would detail her past with everything he knew in front of all the men. All of the 2nd Battalion would soon be privy to Casimir and Agata's fate, Zhanna's lies, and Nixon wouldn't have been sorry.
"What?" That's all she could think to say, all she could say. What kind of a question was that, anyway?
"Paris?" He repeated, slowly. "So you've never been, then?" With their new position of Mourmelon, being a train ride away from the capitol, soldiers had been spending weekends in the city, running wild among the bars, women, and poker games that seemed to be around every corner.
Zhanna shook her head."No, are you offering to take me?" Women and poker games were not something that interested her and now that she knew where the key and the Vat 69 was stored, she didn't need a bar.
"I'm all booked up, unfortunately," Nixon smiled. "But Sink wants to make sure you see the city of lights. Get some mileage on your soul."
Zhanna didn't have the heart to tell him that she had arguably seen more of the world than many of the men here but she didn't want to think about Russia, or their escape from Smolensk. That reminded her of what she had left and that Sveta wasn't by her side or nearby.
"You can't say no," Nixon said. "It's orders. CP has your train ticket." He clapped her on the shoulder, the tender one, and smirked when she winced. Without another word or waiting for an argument he left the tent, leaving Zhanna and her soup with the idea of leave. She hadn't been granted a pass before. It had seemed like a kind of luxury. There was the added snag of Buck not being around. She asked Muck and Malarkey if they had been granted a pass and their answer didn't endear the idea to her.
Wandering around a city by herself. Zhanna had a thousand warnings that told her it was a bad idea. Zhanna didn't want to go anywhere by herself. She supposed, draining the rest of her soup from the bowl, that she would have to deny the pass.
What would she do with a weekend pass anyway? A Red Army soldier on the streets of Paris didn't seem to bode well. Zhanna had wanted to distract herself from everything that fought to occupy the front position of her mind but a solo trip would allow too much time to sit and think. Thinking was Zhanna's enemy.
CP was sure to have an orderly who would give her train ticket to a more willing candidate. It was always busy, even when there was no battle to be fought. When the war seemed at its farthest away, all one had to do was step foot in the Battalion CP and you would be reminded of the frantic movements of battle.
