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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If Zhanna truly made her own luck, Lewis Nixon wouldn't have been assigned to Easy Company in the first place. Or, perhaps, she would have managed to avoid him. That would have been true luck. Everywhere she went, it seemed, he wasn't far behind. Sinister or the simple explanation of a small village?
Zhanna's back against the stonewall that surrounded her and Sveta's billet, she slid two fingers between the three layers she wore, trying to bring some air to the suffocating skin underneath. She had been left alone for the afternoon, no one needing her from officer duties or any drill. Sveta's past of diplomacy seemed to be in high demand but Zhanna wasn't requested. She would have brought out her rifle and gone to shoot at the range but thought of leaving this little garden was frightening.
Sobel had decided to blame Zhanna for the cows that had run loose through Aldbourne, since her hands had held the wire cutters, nevermind who gave the orders. If she ventured from the oasis of shrubs and flowers, Zhanna would risk seeing their CO and being tasked with a less than desirable job.
Agata had talked about her family's garden in Poland: vegetables, flowers and herbs that were as beautiful as they were sustaining. In Russia, she hadn't been able to tend a plot of land. Agata had always spoken of the rewards that dirty hands and hours in the sun yielded. Maybe they would have a garden once this was all over? When they found that safe place.
Maybe that safe place wouldn't be so hot. Zhanna pulled the hair off her neck, and sighed. The long sleeve undershirt from her own Russian uniform remained a staple, keeping her warm even in the depths of winter. But here in England, she didn't need three layers. But she wanted them.
"Are you warm enough?" Nixon asked. Unlucky again. He stood at the gate to the Connors'.
"Can I help you?"
"Colonel Sink wants to speak to you."
"I didn't receive summons," Zhanna said, her heart pounding.
"It's strictly off the books."
Zhanna had heard from Sveta that Nixon was writing about them to Sink. What had he found out that required an off the record meeting? Her body began to chill. Her fingers tingled as frost spread across her palms and up her arms, under the tight layers.
"Why?"
"I have no idea," Nixon said, his eyes heavy on her now numbing face. Her lips must have been blue, as they started towards HQ. She couldn't ignore summons from Sink, no matter what he knew. If Zhanna was to be court-martialed, she would rather just get it over with. "To be perfectly honest, Sink doesn't tell me much."
And here she was, thinking Nixon knew every dark secret she had locked away. Maybe he wasn't as good at hiding in the shadows as she had thought.
"It must be hard," Zhanna said, her legs working hard to keep up with Nixon's pace. "To be an intelligence officer with no information."
"It must be hard being a Russian in the American Army," Nixon said. "I hear Private Muck has taken you under his wing."
