A/N: I decided to rewrite this because as I sat down to finally update my old story I decided to re-read the first four chapter. I quickly realized they weren't very good. So, I am going to rewrite the first four chapters, then delete the old story, and continue on from here.

Please tell me what you think? It means a lot to me.

Thanks and Enjoy!

Prologue:

Han's Landa sat on the front porch of his new home and stared out into the sea. His home rested on the East side of the Island and he would often find himself stating out at the sea thinking about the war, or replaying fond memories of the times before the war when he would enjoy peaceful strolls down Vienna's beautiful streets and look out at the Alps. Now he had the sea to gaze at, which he found almost as beautiful, but things were not quite the same, as much as he tried to pretend they were.

He had done well for himself though. He had ended on the winning side, he had received a substantial amount of credit for ending the war, and now he was living in his own, expensive home on Nantucket Island. He got his monthly checks which paid him the generous sum of a retired Colonel in the United States Army, and had his congressional medal of honor sitting on the mantel in his sitting room.

Over all things had turned out wonderfully for him. He would watch the Nuremberg trials, which were expected to finish in a few months time, with a smile of smug satisfaction. He was sure that he would have been one of those twenty three men being tried had he not managed to finagle such an unbelievable deal. Those men were so strong in their convictions. Some of them wouldn't even lie to get a better sentence.

That thought brought a bitter frown to Landa's lips. The scar on his forehead was a glaring setback on his new life. What angered him more than anything else was the fact that he did not consider himself in the least to be a Nazi. He had been telling the truth when he spoke to Lt. Raine and Private Utivitch. He worked for the Nazi's. That didn't make him one. He was a detective, starting his work at twenty three in Vienna after his time at University. The mental thrill of tracking someone down, whose life depended on you not finding them was something Landa had always craved. When he was given the opportunity to bring that to an International level he jumped at it. The difference between him and others through was that he did not care who he tracked down. Jew, Catholic, French, German…it made no difference.

Now he was marked forever. He knew the natives of the Island had heard the story and knew that every time he went out they would try to get a quick glimpse of his forehead. He was careful though and made sure he was never in any place that would require he remove his hat. When he went out his hat was snug on his head, angled downward slightly to cover his forehead.

Even so the scar was not the ugly dark purple he had seen on others. Once he had made it to the American base the General had sent him to the medical sent to be treated by the very best American medics in camp. He had been in no condition to be debriefed by the General before entering the medical tent, and afterward one of the more sympathetic young American soldiers had given him a generous amount of morphine. For the next couple of hours he slept, slipping in and out of consciousness.

After waking, the young doctor who had been assigned to care for him explained that Lt. Raine and Utivitch had gotten far worse than simply chewed out. The General had been furious at the "murder" of Hermann and probably even more furious that Landa could not be debriefed. Lt. Raine was demoted to Mast Sergeant, two ranks below Lieutenant. Despite the fact that he was promptly re-promoted Landa had felt a small sense of satisfaction at the news.

He was in the tent almost a week and the young doctor, a newly married man from Boston it turned out, worked to make sure his wound did not get infected. His scar eventually faded into a light pink color and his skin was partially raised.

"I'm amazed it's looking so well," the medic had told him before Landa was set to fly to London, then to Boston. "It was a deep one."

In fact it was deeper than almost any other Swastika scared Germans Landa had seen. Only on little leg of the swastika stood out to drastically, and it was a dark red that Landa didn't think would ever fade. A few times he had considered tracking Raine down to Tennessee and putting a well placed bullet in his head, but he dismissed this as fantasy.

His real goal at the current time was to find a mistress, or mistresses, and that was very difficult to do if you never left your house. His excursions into town were brief and few and far between. When he did go into town, those who would try to talk to him did so only briefly. He could sense their unease and he was given little opportunity to truly put on his charm.

His English was very good, but the hint of his Austrian accent could still be heard and many people knew his history. It is true that they all believed he was a double agent and a war hero, but he was, to them, still a German. His hope was to befriend the men of the Island, gain their trust, and then they would have no second thoughts about letting him near their daughters. Luckily his reputation had not followed him from Europe.

He took a sip of his scotch and glanced at his gold pocket watch. Ten thirty was too early to drink even by his standards, but it helped him relax and there was nothing better for him to do at the current time. He hadn't gotten the chance to go to any of the book stores in the vicinity, and even though he had been given a TV he did not enjoy watching it.

He found himself growing excited for the first time in the few weeks since the war ended and he thought about what type of girl he wanted to go after. He had grown tired to the easy women. In France he had been so busy he hadn't the time to pursue a proper conquest. Instead he set after the rebellious Frenchman's daughter who wanted to sleep with a Nazi, or the curious but experienced girl who wanted to know what an older man had to offer. And while these flings had been pleasurable he never derived the same satisfaction from it that a virgin offered.

But virgins, virgins who wanted to be virgins, were real work. There was no pretend giggling and blushing before they fell into bed quite willingly with you. They were usually guarded, protective of themselves, and truly intent on keeping their virtue. It was a chore. You needed to seduce them, truly seduce them. Lull them into a sense of safety and trust before even making a sexual advance. It took patience and time. Both of which he was willing to give, because the end result was truly worth the effort.

He took one more sip of his scotch before setting it down on the small side table next to him. He was planning his trip into town for the day when he heard a car engine and tires on his gravel driveway. He didn't look over immediately, thinking it was an army representative coming to speak to him about some unfinished business. When he finally did look over it was white Chrysler that he didn't recognize. What got his attention even more was the fact that the top was down. Government cars were not usually so casual.

Landa stood, stretching his sore muscles and walked over to the edge of his porch and watched them park next to his own Cadillac. His attention was on the driver, who got out of his car with a large smile on his face and waved to Landa. Landa returned the smile and the wave but remained on his porch.

"Hello, there neighbor!" The man called. His voice was warm and kind and Landa got the feeling this man meant no harm. He walked down the steps slowly and casually and walked toward the man.

"Hello," he answered and the man removed his hat. Landa reached up and pressed his more firmly onto his head.

"We just came to meet our new neighbor," he said and Landa raised his eye brows. Until this point the newcomer had blocked the passenger side and Landa had been unable to see his companion. When she finally came around the side of the new car Landa felt a smile come to his face.

"it is a pleasure," he said to the man and extended his hand. The man took his hand and shook warmly.

"My names Robert Hagen, and this is my beautiful daughter Elaine," he said. And Elaine was beautiful. She had thick, wavy hair the color of a rich chocolate that ended just above her shoulders. It was neatly parted at the side and a small blue bow clipped her hair out of her face. Green eyes looked up at him from modestly lined eyes and he full lips were painted red. She wore a simple powder blue skirt that ended just below her knees and a conservative short sleeve white blouse. She smiled at Landa, her pouty lips turning upward for a moment before dipping back down to their normal place.

"I am so pleased to meet you both. My name is Hans Landa," Landa said and released Robert's hand. He took Elaine's in his and surprised her when instead of shaking her hand he brought it to his lips and placed a feather light kiss to her skin. When he stood back up and lowered her hand he felt her tug her hand from his with more force then was usually respectable, but Hagen did not see it. Elaine's eyes were questioned him silently and he could see her distrust shining through them. Her left hand gently covered her right as she felt the need to guard her kissed hand from him. His eyes smiled at her before he looked back to Hagen.

"We thought we could come and welcome you to the neighborhood. I apologize for being so long but my youngest has been very ill the past few weeks," Hagen said and Landa forced a frown.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Landa replied. "But not much as been happening here. Just settling it."

He smiled and glanced over at Elaine who was looked at him with a look of uncertainty on her face.

"Please, I have been so rude. Come in, I will serve tea," Landa said and motioned for them to walk with him up the steps.

"That is very kind you, Mr Landa," Robert said and gently nudged Elaine ahead of him. Landa smiled as he looked back at her. That was easier than he thought it would ne.