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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Haguenau looked worse than Bastogne. Sveta hadn't thought that possible. But where Bastogne had fresh blankets of snow amidst the terrifying straight rows of mist-hidden trees, the snow in Haguenau had turned to brown slush. Trucks and tanks that had rolled through for days had torn up the ground, turning the roads into mud-filled traps. The men had gotten into place quickly. Sveta wondered if they were as eager to ignore the decrepit surroundings as she was.
They had several outposts. Zhanna took it upon herself to stick with Second Platoon. They had no Platoon Leader and though Zhanna couldn't fill that role, she and Malarkey seemed to have become even better friends since Muck and Penkala's unfortunate demise. Most of the officers other than Zhanna had taken over one of the large mansions in the town. Sveta hated it.
As soon as she walked in the door, Sveta had been hit by a wave of memories. The broken crystal chandelier, wide windows, the once-beautiful couches all flooded her senses, reminding her of better days in Russia. Good days. Days when she'd played hide and seek with her governess Maria, or when her tutors made sure she could recite Lenin's speeches. Her heart hurt as she had turned from the open room.
Sveta stood at a window in one of the upstairs bedrooms. It must've been a child's room, the bedframe barely fitting her and three dirty stuffed bunnies lying on a broken dresser. The mirror above the vanity had cracked, glass shattered on the floor. She left it alone.
She could see where the showers had been set up. While she wanted nothing more than to clean the grime out of her hair, Sveta would never go anywhere near a shared shower when she could avoid it. Not without Zhanna to help stand guard. She knew Zhanna wouldn't hesitate to shoot anyone who disturbed her. But Zhanna was preoccupied, and she knew and cared enough not to bother her.
The pale grey sky had an impenetrable layer of clouds obscuring any sunlight. She missed Harry. With a tiny smile, she looked down at the guys meandering about, drying hair with towels and chatting. Not without care, but they looked more at ease than she remembered them. Less stressed, but more angry.
Sveta sighed. She knew how they felt. None of them had taken the news of redeployment well. They felt unseen, unheard, unrepresented. They felt caged, trapped in the wills of those playing a game with their lives. Now that they'd left behind the fear, they'd fallen into the anger.
At least anger kept them warm. Footsteps on the creaky wooden stairs pulled her out of her musings. Sveta turned. Two knocks on the partially open door, and then Doc Spina walked in. "Captain?"
Sveta offered him a small smile, finishing taking the braids out of her hair. "Come in. What do you need, Spina?"
"Captain Speirs sent me up. He said you were complaining about your knee?" He walked in, his medic bag at his side. "Still hurts?"
She sighed. But Sveta nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Yeah. Got anything for it?"
"I'm sure I got something," he told her. "You should wrap it too, and stay off it." When he looked up from going through his bag, he grinned. "Though I don't know how much you're gonna be able to do that."
