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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Zhanna thought she knew what to expect from the Americans now.
After their return from leave, the men of Easy Company were not welcoming by any means but they did tolerate her existence. Her place among their ranks was not publicly humiliated, instead only through whispers.
Zhanna didn't mind. Agata had taught her how to walk under the fiery glares of men and Casimir had never let her be ashamed of her heritage. She could work with whispers and a few jokes.
She knew Winters had something to do with it. He was kind and had stood beside her during training when he could, a tall ginger guardian. His shadow might not have been as familiar as Sveta's but Zhanna knew that it was a safe place. He had encouraged her to take her rifle to the shooting range, in an attempt to prove that she was just as much a soldier to his platoon, but Zhanna had refused. She didn't need them to believe in her.
The men had stopped their outward humiliation and jabs directed at her but Sobel had continued to berate her every chance he got. He was strategic about his confrontation, pulling weekend passes and throwing underlying insults whenever Sveta wasn't around. He knew he couldn't say anything in front of their linchpin to America and the Soviet Union's diplomacy but her little blonde friend wasn't anyone important. He thought Zhanna was the weak link.
He couldn't take away the rifle and he soon realized that the weekend passes meant nothing to a Russian soldier who would rather stay in camp. Sobel did the only thing he could do.
"Kitchen duty?" Sveta snapped.
"Yes." Zhanna sat on her bunk in that tiny little shack, the only housing provided for the two, and laced her boots. She had been given the worst punishment Sobel could hope to offer, working in a camp kitchen. Like that was punishment. Like she hadn't been working since she was six years old.
"You aren't here to wash dishes. You're here to train." Sveta didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She was valuable to Easy company but Zhanna knew she had to be careful. She couldn't explain to her friend why she was taking the punishment.
"I know," Zhanna grunted in the effort of tightening the still stiff laces of her boots. She missed her Russian made leather boots, abandoned in their escape. "But I can't say no."
"Yes you can. I'll talk to Sink about this. He can't make you-"
"If you tell Sink, he will reprimand Sobel. And Sobel will never give me a moment's rest." Zhanna said. "You can't solve everything with your name, Sveta." She didn't mean to sound almost bitter. Standing, she softened her words and looked up at her friend, pleading. "Just let me do this and we can get those wings and go home, yes?"
The kitchen wasn't a horrible place but it did give the men a new set of insults and made her exhausted. She started to lag behind in the training, working early in the morning and late into the evening in the kitchens, scrubbing pots bigger than she was. It was a punishment and she knew Sobel was waiting for a reason to have Sink pull her from the Paratrooper program.
