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...in deeper than I've ever been...

Svetlana | Silmarilz1701

The charged air made Sveta's hair stand on end. As she stood by the trees between Dick, Nixon, and Sink, and the beginning of Dog Company where Ron stared out across the field, Sveta forced deep breaths. She tried to focus on the world around her. Anything to keep her fear in check.

In her mind, Sveta tried to count the number of pins in her hair. She imagined the feel of the crown braid beneath her fingers, the smooth bump of the crossed locks. It had taken fifteen minutes to do that morning. Her frozen fingers had burned with the movement.

She listened to the hushed voices around her. She couldn't make them out, but she could hear them prepping equipment. Zhanna stood with Dick and Nixon, her face blank as she took in the gap between the trees and town. If they had higher ground, she and Zhanna may have been able to help. But they didn't have higher ground.

The waiting infuriated her. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her fingers trailed up and down the barrel of her Mosin-Nagant, feeling the metal finishes and remembering how many times she'd fired bullets in between Kraut eyes. The first time she'd fired a gun and taken a life, Sveta hadn't been able to hold her lunch down. Zhanna had covered for her.

But that weakness had faded years ago. Sveta found it more excruciating to watch the battle from the trees than to stare down the sights of her rifle. She had no intention of doing it this time.

Sveta remembered the argument from that morning. She'd demanded Dick let her go with Easy into the town. He'd not been happy about it, but he and Nixon had both agreed to help her lobby Sink. Sink hadn't even listened. He said that Dike would be in charge, and having an officer who outranked him on the battlefield would only cause confusion.

Her fists clenched. It would only cause confusion because after the patrol, the men knew she could be trusted, and they already knew Dike couldn't. They should've put her in charge instead of that idiot. But she was a woman, and she was a Soviet, and on paper her kill count didn't flash as much as Zhanna's. But Sveta had proved time and again that her skills came more in handy in a battle than from a distance.

She had the accuracy for shooting, but more importantly, Sveta had the calm and disregard for fear in battle to lead. Dick knew it. The NCOs knew it. Even Nixon knew it. He'd made a joke about her replacing Dike, but Sveta figured it was only a joke because they knew no one would, or could, make it happen.

With Guarnere and Toye and Compton gone, Easy was running out of leaders. Shames they could rely on. Peacock had left, thank god. Foley had stepped up. At least they had First Sergeant Lipton.

Sveta looked down to see her knuckles white from her grip on her rifle. She let go, trying to relax. But the buzz of anxious preparation around her made it impossible. She looked right. Dick, Nixon, Sink still stood talking, Zhanna at their side. No smiles, no masks. Just still seriousness.

Sveta didn't know how to stay still. Not when she knew she could make a difference here. For the past month, Sveta had made a difference. She didn't want to let that go. If she let that go, the men would be without a leader. If she let that go, Sveta would let go her only pleasant memories of home.

To her right, Sveta saw Ron chatting to two Staff Sergeants. She'd never bothered to learn the names of D Company's enlisted. She knew some were competent though. More competent than Fox's at least. Sveta turned away. She looked back across the snowy field.

The torn-up ground looked like someone had tried to mix salt and pepper. Snow mixed with dirt mixed with debris. And Easy had to cross it, a dash through open space with Germans lying in wait, ready to shoot them down. They had to move fast.

Dike had never done anything fast in his life. She saw him moving back and forth near Lipton, Shames, and Foley. Scratch that. Dike knew how to do one thing fast: run away. Sveta hated those who ran. Running meant leaving someone else to suffer. And here, here in the Ardennes, she had a chance to make sure she helped the men not have to suffer. She'd run too many times back home.

Sveta looked at the town. About a five-minute dash away, I Company planned to execute their attack from the road. She glanced right. Sink would never let her go in with Easy. He'd already said as much. But Sink wasn't anywhere near I Company.

She wasted no time.

Backing away from the trees, she didn't spare a glance towards the commanding officers. Blend in. That was always key when doing something one wasn't supposed to be doing, or going somewhere restricted. Like the hospital. If they caught sight of her walking away, they'd just call out, or let her go. If she looked guilty, anyone could stop her.

She never looked back. Instead she began to look forward, trying to locate a spare American rifle. She had only two bullets left in her Mosin-Nagant, and that would never work. She found a handful perched against a tree. It took her no time to grab one and leave the Russian rifle in the snow.

Sveta started moving through Dog Company. She didn't spare anyone more than a glance. They let her be. Most of the men knew her, and knew that she and Ron were friends. They would never touch her. And she respected Lieutenant McMillan; he'd let her walk. She outranked him, after all.

After Dog, Sveta moved through the rest of the 3rd Battalion. She approached the road, and still no one had stopped her. Sveta looked around. I Company stood in small groups, checking weapons and armor. They looked about as nervous as Easy. Sveta didn't see their commander.

By the time she decided not to find their CO, the men began to get into formation. Sveta watched from the back. She would go in with them in the chaos of their advance.

It didn't take long after they started in for machine gun fire to cut the quiet. Sveta felt her adrenaline spike as she watched I Company fight their way forward. Her body felt like a wound spring. Cries and screams rose from all around them. Smoke and debris shot in the air as a mortar round left a hole where someone had been standing. Sveta tried to breathe.

"Captain?"

She looked left. A lieutenant, she didn't know his name, watched her with his wide brown eyes. He looked young. Maybe a replacement. Sveta turned from the battle. "I'm here to help."

He didn't question her. "Thank you."

Sveta nodded. She had work to do. Pushing thoughts of Easy on the other side out of her mind, she dashed forward. The whistle and explosion of mortars rang in her ear. But she had work to do. Sveta came to a halt next to a couple of corporals who hunkered behind a decrepit building. "What's the plan, Corporals?" she shouted.

They did a double take. One turned back to his machine gun, the other looked back at her. "Waiting on Easy Company, ma'am!"

Sveta felt her hand tighten around the rifle. Fucking Dike. But she pushed it from her mind. Sveta raised her gun. Breathe. A German uniform came into view. Sveta compressed the trigger and saw him drop. "Where's your radio op?"

"With the CO, by the wall," the man shouted.

She leaned around the side of the building again, standing over the machine gunner. A blast by her cheek made her shy away. Her heart pounded as loud as the mortar shells destroying their army. Sveta cursed. Raising her rifle, she tried again. One more dead. She saw the CO. But still no sign of Easy. Item had been pinned down.

"Suppressing fire," Sveta ordered.

After he nodded, Sveta took two quick breaths. She held her rifle to her chest. On three, she spun out of hiding and dashed to the sound of machine gun fire across the way to the wall where the CO hid.

Sveta banged her knee on a fallen bit of wall as she slid to the ground. She barely noticed the pain. Hiding behind the half wall, she looked at the man in front of her. "Easy?"

He just shook his head.

No sign of Easy Company. Sveta peeked up over the wall. Her heart sank. A German tank and two dozen infantrymen stood between them and Easy. Or where Easy was supposed to be. Flames flooded the sky with black smoke.

Sveta didn't want to die. Not in this French town marred by German hatred. She ducked back down as a shell formed a crater ten feet in front. The ash and dirt pounded into her helmet.

"I don't wanna retreat," the CO shouted to her. He huddled down next to her. "Easy needs us. But my men don't wanna die in this fucking town!"

Sveta looked at him. His blue eyes blinked against the dirt that rained down on them. She stayed silent.

"Radio's dead. Can't get 'em on the line," he added. As another round of machine gun fire cut the area around them, he grimaced. "They could've pulled out. We're sitting ducks!"

She knew he was right. Just as Sveta went to suggest they pull back, the rain of German bullets stopped. Sveta and the CO exchanged another glance. They both popped their heads above the wall. Across from them, three enlisted did the same. One collapsed, and a split second later, Sveta heard the shot.

Sniper. Not far, to their left based on the angle of his body and the time it took the noise to reach them. She raised her rifle. Sveta scanned the open windows. There he was, black rifle muzzle standing out against the white canvas he'd set up on. Amateur.

He fell to her American bullet.

Shouts stole her attention away from the body. They still had a tank and a dozen Germans between them and where Easy was supposed to be. But as she readied her gun again, Sveta paused. Someone started running towards them. Her eyes widened. It was Ron, dashing through the German lines like he had a death wish.

Sveta grinned. She hid her face behind the wall. Maniac. That was the only word for him. She burst out laughing. I Company's CO just stared at her.

She barely had time to get out of the way as bullets followed by Ron crashing over the wall smashed down where she'd been sitting. He caught her leg, smashing it into rubble. Sveta spat out a Russian curse.

Recovering, Ron whipped around to stare at her. He seemed as shocked as she imagined she'd looked watching him running across the battlefield. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here," she insisted.

Ron turned away, towards the other officer. "Easy's getting in position. Do not pull out of Foy."

The man nodded. He kept his mouth shut, still not quite sure what was going on. But then Ron turned away from him. He looked at Sveta. "You're insane."

"Says the man who fucking ran across Foy!"

"Twice." Ron smirked. "See you in a minute."

She cursed again as he clambered back over the wall. Sveta knelt up, trying to take out as many of the Germans as she could. Fucking insane. He was fucking insane. But she couldn't stop grinning.

Item's CO turned back to his men. His First Sergeant had managed to make his way over, and together they tried to organize better. Sveta half listened as he ordered them to cut off the road.

After another good twenty minutes of dodging between broken buildings, Sveta fought her way over to Easy again. She ran into Martin first. He did a double take, having just pushed another five prisoners onto the ground. "What the hell?"

"Good to see you, too," she muttered. Sveta tried to wipe the blood off her face. A well aimed punch from a German private with a ring had split her cheek. "Where's Speirs?"

"Back that way." He pointed behind himself where a group of officers had congregated, collars flipped up to hide their ranks.

She nodded. With a last smirk at the Germans sitting with their hands over their heads, Sveta moved away. Machine gun fire in the distance still played like harmony in the background. But she tuned it out. She made for the officers.

"Captain Samsonova!"

Sink. Sveta suppressed a groan. Play the game. She moved over to him with a straight face. "Sir?"

"What in God's good name were you doing over in I Company?"

He raised a hand to point at her. Beside him, Strayer, Nixon, Dick, and Speirs just watched her. She wondered where Zhanna had gone off to. Maybe with Malarkey. But Sveta just let herself breathe.

"Sir, I figured my talents would be needed elsewhere. Since Easy had things under control, I made the executive decision to give assistance to Item." She frowned. "I apologize if I overstepped my bounds. I just figured you would appreciate my forward thinking. Anything to keep the men safe is worth the risk. Right, sir?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nixon smirking. He didn't even try to hide it. But she kept frowning, hoping Sink would either buy the act or see he couldn't win against her logic. And indeed, after a moment of glaring, he just nodded.

"Your dedication to the men is admirable, Captain."

"Just doing my duty to fellow comrades, sir."

Sink nodded, still frowning. He took a deep breath, trying to relax a bit, and turned to Colonel Strayer. A shot rang out as he opened his mouth. Sveta spun around. A single bullet. As the others scattered to cover, she tried to take in the scene. someone slumped to the ground on the debris the enlisted had climbed onto. Shouts and screams filled the air.

Another body flopped to the ground, and then she heard the shot. Sveta knelt by a nearby oil drum. It came from the left, couldn't be more than fifty meters away. She pulled up her rifle. But she couldn't see anything. The Kraut had to be in a window out of her view.

She spotted Zhanna. She, Malarkey, and Randleman huddle by a wall. She also had her rifle up. She could read the situation just as well. But in the end, as she saw Lipton dash from cover, Shifty took the shot.

Sveta breathed again. She settled down onto the ground, the pain in her knee flooding her senses as they broke free from danger. Sveta felt her body crashing. Too much excitement, and too much pain.

"You good?" Nixon asked. He stood over her, canteen out and unscrewed.

Sveta waved him off. "I'm fine."

He smirked. "You showed Sink a thing or too."

"Believe it or not, Nixon, I'm rather capable," she snipped back. Sveta pushed herself to her feet, using the oil drum as support. But she couldn't stop the hiss of pain as she straightened her leg. "Shit."

Nixon laughed. "You're fine. Right." He turned to the left. "Hey, Ron. Where are your medics?"

He turned their way, leaving Sergeant Lipton by a wall. Furrowing his brow, he looked at her. "What happened?"

Sveta grinned. "You fell on me, remember?"

"Not that hard."

She hummed in agreement. "Well, that was after I fell on a rock."

A small laugh escaped Nixon before either could add anything. He took a drink. Then he pointed to where she wouldn't put weight on her left. "At least you didn't get shot because of him this time."

Sveta couldn't help her laugh. Ron just shook his head, and helped her hobble over to where Spina sat patching up Lieutenant Foley's ankle. She appreciated his presence, the security it offered. Sveta appreciated the warmth.

"Captain?" Spina shot up, letting Foley rest. He looked at her in concern. "What happened?"

"She fell on a rock," Ron interrupted.

Sveta scoffed. "Long story short, yes. Think I sprained it."

As Spina had her sit down, Sveta just shot Ron another shake of her head and small smile. He walked away. Maniac. That's what he was. But damn if she didn't have to fight the urge to kiss him for it. Sveta's eyes widened, and she looked away. She couldn't do this. Not here, not now. Not ever. Ron's presence was like a drug. Fighting against the alcohol was hard enough.