A/N: Here we go. Everything belongs to Mr. Tarantino.
Enjoyy.

CHAPTER ONE.

I was seated next to Joseph Goebbels, an unlit cigarette between my fingers, scanning the room carefully. The name Fleischer rang in my head, and my ears were set carefully on listening for that name. I knew he had to be somewhere in the room, and I had to find him soon. It was always so, so much harder to track down these lesser-known officers.

I felt rather than saw someone take the seat next to me, and I turned to look, hoping that by some chance, he would turn and introduce himself as Carsten Fleischer. He looked too old to be the man I was looking for, but he caught my attention nonetheless. He held out a lighter, and I stuck the cigarette between my lips and allowed him to light it for me. The man smiled, rather smugly, and lit his own cigarette.

"Evelyn Stiglitz, correct?"

I nodded and smiled.

"Ah, buon giorno!" he exclaimed, and I was surprised by both his excitement and the fact that he spoke Italian to me. He continued, flawlessly, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you!"

"All good things, I hope, signor?" I said sweetly.

"Oh, absolutely," he held his hand out to me. "Colonel Hans Landa of the SS," he said proudly, and looked at me expectantly - like I was supposed to recognize his name.

Of course, I did. I'd heard stories, and I'd seen his picture everywhere; the Jew Hunter. He held my fingers in his hand – just the ends – and kissed me just below my knuckles, a much more sensitive spot than the back of my hand. The small, quick touch made my head spin, but it wasn't exactly in a good way. "It's good to meet you, Colonel Landa," I smiled, despite the sick feeling I had inside from the way his eyes stared me down. I couldn't figure out what it was about him that tore at my nerves like this, so soon after meeting him.

"If you don't mind me asking, what business do you have here, tonight?" he asked politely, but with an accusing undertone that I was sure was on purpose.

"I was invited, Colonel," I said calmly, and nonchalantly breathed through my cigarette.

"Oh, I'm not trying to interrogate you, la mia bellezza," he said quickly, as if offending me was the worst thing imaginable. I just raised my eyebrows at him, rather amused with how intentionally flustered he looked.

Joseph Goebbels leaned past me. "Landa! Lernt kennen Fräulein Stiglitz?"

Colonel Landa nodded, and switched back to speaking German as if it were the easiest thing in the world. "You were right – she is a million times more stunning in person."

I felt disgusted, as I did every time these Nazis said anything of that sort to me.

My subconscious caught it even though I was actively thinking of the man next to me – the name Fleischer. I turned my head, subtly, and I saw him chatting with Major Hellstrom. He looked ready to leave, and I was getting nervous now.

I stood suddenly, and Colonel Landa followed suit. "My apologies, men, but I really have to get going," I said sweetly.

"Stay for one more drink at least?" Hans Landa asked, giving me another big smile. I stole a glance over my shoulder – Fleischer was looking more comfortable now, so I agreed and sat back down between the two Nazis. Landa looked delighted that I'd accepted and sat back down, and ordered me another glass of champagne right away, as if worried I'd run off.

"Thank you, Colonel," I flashed him another big smile when he passed the fragile glass to me.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Stiglitz."

I finished the glass quickly, hardly giving the man a chance to talk to me any longer, and then I stood up. "I really do have to leave though, but hopefully I'll see you soon," I allowed him to take my hand and kiss it once more, his lips barely touching my fingers, but in a way that made me shiver – once again, I did not take it as a good thing.

"I'll be counting the minutes, mia amora."

I smiled and scurried out of the building, waiting just around the corner with the hard metal of the gun in my hand, for Carsten Fleischer to come outside. It was nearly five minutes before he stumbled out, drunk and thankfully alone, and was headed in my direction. It was going flawlessly. I put the gun behind my back, and leaned against the wall.
"Pardon me, sir," I whispered in German, and he turned to look at me. "I was wondering if you could give me a hand? The back of my dress just won't zip back up," I began backing away, farther down the alley, slowly enough so that he wouldn't really notice.

"Oh, not at all, Miss Stiglitz," he said excitedly, and followed me the ten feet until I was comfortable with where we were. He stepped behind me, and I turned around and shot him point blank between the eyes.

The gun hardly made a noise, and I stopped and looked down on him for a moment, debating whether or not to scalp him for Lieutenant Raine. Eventually I thought better of it – it was a disgusting thing to do – and instead I pulled off the single medal he had.

I stowed both the medal and the gun in my purse, and I headed up the street to get to my hotel room. I made the walk quickly, not wanting to waste any more time around the scene of the dead Nazi, and once I was safely inside my room I threw my purse under the bed and collapsed onto it. The man I had just met was on my mind – he had come off as charming, flirty even, but anyone who knew any basic psychology would know there was much more to it. It was a ruse, a mask, and I decided then to keep this Hans Landa at as far a distance as possible. I knew he would cause me trouble otherwise.

I changed into a much more casual dress, a small brown one, and a pair of white heels. Donny had snuck into the hotel by now, and sure enough there was a knock on my door shortly after I'd changed.

"I met Hans Landa today," I said before he had a chance to ask about anything that had happened.

This didn't seem to be a big deal. "Anythin interesting happen?" he asked, coming right in and sitting on the bed. He looked much different without a baseball bat over his shoulder. He had to look the part and fit in while he was on the streets of Paris, and he looked awfully uncomfortable in Nazi drag.

"He was a very intimidating man," I said quietly.

Donny shrugged. "Aldo wants you to start staying at camp."

I joined him on the bed. "You have got to be kidding me. No offense, but I'm not about to give up this hotel room to go sleep in a tent out in the woods with a bunch of lousy men."

"I'll try not to take that offensively," he said with a roll of his eyes.

I just smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, Donny. Why does he want me to start staying there, though?"

"He thinks you should be more involved. And, I think he just likes to have ya around. I do too."

"Aww," I nudged him with my shoulder. "Well thank you."

"So, are you gonna come back with me now or what?"

I made a face. "I guess I have to. I don't think it's a good idea though. Won't they wonder where I'm staying?"

"Aldo thinks it's for the best."

I shrugged, and grabbed my purse. "Will you pack my things for me, Donny?"

He quickly obliged and went around the room, and I laid back on the bed, glad to have someone doing the work for me.

"Where's your suitcase?"

I pointed a lazy finger at the closet, which he opened and began packing things rather haphazardly like we had to leave right this minute.

"Donny, what the hell are you doing? Remember whose clothes you're treating like that."

"We have to hurry. Your brother is waiting in the truck outside, and you know its better not to be out in the city too much."

"Mmph," was my response, and I sat up. "You could still be gentler with those clothes."

"Sorry."

I realized, without meaning to, that I had another cigarette in my hand. "Do you have a light?" I asked sweetly, and gave him a cute smile.

He tossed a lighter to me, which I caught rather clumsily. I was on the verge of throwing it back and shouting something like, "You asshole, you're supposed to light it for me!" but I held my tongue. I had to accept that these Americans just weren't as gentlemanly as the Europeans I was so accustomed to.