Silmarilz1701

2100 Hours

Ron frowned at the lack of response at Sveta's door. He'd heard about the disastrous Varsity jump and then the shouting match between her and Nixon from Harry Welsh. The man had been nursing a drink, complaining about the way neither Nixon nor Sveta could hold their tongues. He checked his watch. That had been well over an hour ago.

Nixon now sat in Winter's room with him and Welsh, piss drunk and nursing a screaming headache. He'd looked almost pitiable. But they'd not had any clue about Sveta's whereabouts. Ron had wanted nothing more than to yell at them for it. They'd known her long enough to know better than to let her disappear. Silence from Sveta meant danger.

"Samsonova?" He knocked again.

Still no response. Ron released a strained sigh. After a brief moment, he made up his mind. The locks on the old houses in Stürzelberg didn't take much pressure to break. Old, and poorly made. It swung open with a single hit of his side.

His heart stopped. "Shit."

Tears streaked down her deathly pale face from closed eyes as she slummed against the bed. The fingers of her right hand gripped the small neck of a nearly empty bottle of schnapps. Another empty green bottle lay prone at her side. Falling to beside her, Ron drew his knife. He held it under her nose. A small ring of fog formed on the metal. At least she was still breathing.

"Hey, Svetlana." He tried to wake her up, tried to find any other sign of life. Her skin chilled his fingers. "Wake up. Come on."

It took a moment for her eyes to flutter open. But she couldn't seem to focus. Instead of responding to his questions as he asked for her name, rank, and birthdate, she just slurred out some Russian.

Fury filled his chest again. Winters and Welsh were smart men, good men. They should've seen this coming. Sveta needed a medic, immediately. The thought of leaving her there, all but dead to the world and barely breathing, scared him. She barely stayed conscious as he held her freezing hand.

It only took a moment to make up his mind. He shifted the grip of his right hand against her neck. Grabbing her body as best he could, he hauled her to her feet. Ron grunted. Welsh and Winters were just up the stairs. They had one drunk to watch already. They could handle a second. They would have to. He would make them.

It wasn't easy. Sveta stood nearly his own height. More than that, he didn't want to draw unwanted attention. Luckily the house stood quiet. Most of the men had gone to sleep already. After struggling a few minutes up the stairs, they reached Winters' door. He could hear muffled voices just beyond. Two, not three.

With her arm around his shoulders, Ron held up almost her full weight. He cursed under his breath. Balancing Sveta, he used his boot to pound the door. Welsh answered it. He stopped in his tracks.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Is Nixon in here?" Ron snapped, not bothering to contain his fury.

Welsh grabbed her other arm. It didn't take long to move her inside. Before either man could answer his demand, Ron located Nixon asleep on Winters' bed. Winters sat at the desk doing work, but shot up at their entrance.

"What happened?" He dropped his pen onto the desk and moved towards them.

Ron and Welsh deposited her on a small couch. Once she was sitting half up, Ron turned to Welsh. "Keep her conscious," he ordered. Then he rounded on Winters. "What do you think happened," he snapped. "Exactly what I figured would!"

"How much did she drink?" Welsh asked him. He crouched beside her, running a hand over her face to try and clear her tearstained cheeks of wet hair. Between deep breaths, Welsh tried to take her pulse and get her to talk.

"Almost two bottles of schnapps, at least," Ron told them. "You two should know better than this," he shouted. "What the hell were you thinking? That only Nixon has a drinking problem? For Christ's sake, you've known her longer than I have!"

To his credit, Winters didn't respond. He just looked at where Welsh was trying to keep Sveta awake. But Ron wasn't done.

"Keep her awake, get her to drink some water, and make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit," he sneered. "If you can watch Nixon, you can watch her while I get the medics."

He didn't wait for them to comply. At least her breathing had still been regular. He just slammed the door on his way out and hurried down the stairs to the first floor. Lamplight filtered in through the stairway's windows.

His boots slammed the pavement as he went in search of Roe or Spina. Ignoring the mist of rain that fell around him, he found a couple of men of Easy out smoking under an overhang. Their subdued voices didn't surprise him; they'd taken the news about Casmirovna hard.

"Sergeant Grant, where are Roe and Spina?" he demanded.

Grant took the cigarette out of his mouth. "Try one building over, sir."

"What's wrong, sir?" Liebgott asked.

Ron just dismissed his question with a wave of his hand. He hurried to the grey stone building that Grant had pointed to. The door opened with ease. He found Luz and Perconte sitting at a table playing cards, and on the other side of the room, Spina and Roe comparing supplies. They all looked up at his entrance, and stood when they realized it was him.

"Spina, Roe, we need you at the CP. Bring your kits," he ordered. "Now."

"What's wrong sir?" Luz asked. "Is Captain Casmirovna back?"

Ron paused. He took a deep breath. No she wasn't. And probably never would be. He shook his head. "No. She's still MIA."

The medics gathered up their supplies and before long, joined him outside. They didn't speak until they reached the stairs in the CP, Ron refusing to answer questions. "This stays within the confines of this house, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Roe agreed.

He knew Easy Company couldn't suppress a rumor to save a life. He just had to hope that the medics understood the need to keep everything under warps better than their fellow soldiers. They liked Sveta. If any of the enlisted could keep their mouths shut it would be them. He hit the door once with his palm to signal their arrival before bursting back in.

Nixon still slept like a babe. Ron had to keep his anger in check again as he saw how peaceful he looked. Sveta, on the other hand, was hunched over metal trash can, a blanket over her shoulders, Harry still at her side, trying to help her. Winters crouched on her other side. They stopped talking at their entrance.

"Jesus," Spina muttered. "What happened?"

"How much did she drink?" Roe demanded. He pushed past Spina, moving to where Sveta gasped for breath after throwing up again. Tears streaked down her face as she laid her head back against the couch. "Has she communicated at all?"

"She drank at two bottles of schnapps, I don't know what the time frame was. Maybe over the past couple hours," Ron told him. He eyed Winters and Welsh, who had moved to the side of the room with Nixon and stayed mercifully quiet. "She was asleep when I found her, and then tried to speak to me in Russian." He turned to Welsh and Winters. "She said anything else?"

Winters shook his head. "Nothing coherent. Something about roses."

Ron stood back as the two medics tried to examine her. Roe took her pulse as Spina tried to get her to talk. Neither paid much mind to the sober officers after that.

"Captain, can you understand me?" Spina asked. "What's your name?"

It took a moment, but she nodded. "Svetlana Alexandrovna Samsonova," she mumbled, her eyelids drooping. Then she mumbled a bit more in Russian.

"Great. What are your parents names?" he asked next. "Favorite color?"

Ron grimaced at the question. He risked a glance at Winters and Welsh. The latter had his arms across his chest, genuine concern in his expression. Winters just looked conflicted. Ron knew that Winters kept his emotions in check whenever possible, so he tried not to let it bother him. But the rage from their reckless abandonment of Sveta earlier boiled over again and he looked away.

Sveta didn't answer right away. She just tried to breathe as tears streamed down her face. "Veronika and Alexander."

"We gotta get her to drink water," Roe ordered. He accepted a canteen immediately offered from Winters and held it out to her. "Captain, you need to drink this."

"Le'me sleep," she slurred. "Before Beria comes."

Spina looked at them from where he'd been cleaning her face. "Who's Beria?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at her words. He turned to Winters and Welsh, who looked at confused and downright startled as he felt. "Winters?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what she's talking about."

"It's probably the alcohol," Welsh said. He gestured to where she sat on the couch trying to refuse the canteen Roe needed her to drink from. "She's completely out of it."

"Red roses," she murmured. "Red, like blood."

"Sveta you have to drink the water," Ron said. He moved back over to her. "Beria's not here."

"He'll come," she insisted again. "He's in the shadows," she insisted, struggling against tears. "He's always there!"

"Beria's not here," Winters said.

Ron glanced back at Winters. "Are you sure?"

"We're allies with the Russians, Ron. They don't have spies here," he reminded him.

But Welsh just looked at Ron and then Winters. "That we know of."

The room went quiet except for Sveta finally taking a drink of the canteen Roe pushed her way. Behind Winters and Welsh, Nixon stirred. Anger surged through him again.

"Ok, Captain, you gotta keep drinking that," Roe reminded her. He gestured for Spina to take over at her side before standing up, and moving to the other officers. "She came really close to alcohol poisoning," he said, "but her pulse is regular and she's breathing pretty normally. The next few hours'll be touch and go."

"Does she understand what's going on," Winters asked. His brow furrowed.

"You mean, like, is she thinkin' straight?" Roe released a breath and looked back at her. "Probably not."

Winters stayed silent, looking at Sveta in the couch. Then he glanced at the other officers. But no one spoke. Behind them, Nixon started coughing and then groaned.

"Did you call us for Captain Nixon, too, sir?" Roe said.

"No," Winters shook his head. "Just Samsonova."

Roe nodded. "Well, she needs to be watched for the next twelve hours," he told them. "She needs as much water as possible. Spina and I can take her to the aid station."

Ron turned to Winters. He bit his cheek. He'd already chewed him out once that night, and he didn't want to push his luck. A superior officer was a superior officer, whether he liked it or not. But he hoped Winters would make the right decision. If she went to the aid station, questions would be asked. Uncomfortable ones for everyone involved.

Winters met his gaze. "Can you monitor her in a room here?" he finally asked, turning back to Roe. "We'll get you supplies."

"Uh, yes sir."

"Good. Do it."