The character of SS Colonel Hans Landa is property of Quentin Tarantino - I do not own this character.
This fic is supposed to be based off of a request I had gotten from a winner of a fic contest I held and she loved the push and pull of a character's affections towards Landa. I've rewritten the plot for this SEVERAL times because I never seemed to be satisfied with it, but alas I have found out how to tie it into IB later on. I hope I didn't screw up Landa's character too much. I know Tarantino writes him best, but I wanted to do as much as I could to try to portray him without making him one dimensional and "bland". Also, I used Google Translate for this, so don't expect the French and German to be precise. Excuse me for any errors.
PROLOGUE
Once upon a time in Nazi occupied France (1942)…
"Oui, deux baguettes de pain s'il vous plaît."(Yes, two rolls of bread please) she said as she pointed to the glass protecting the baguettes with her long, slender fingers
"Seulement deux ? Ce n'est plus quatre aujourd'hui ?"(Only two? What happened to four?) the burly man asked
"Le budget est serré à la maison, Monsieur Lombard." (Money is tight around the house)
"Ce n'est rien, tu restes toujours ma cliente préférée, Jacqueline,"(It's okay, you're still my favorite client, Jacqueline) he replied with a wide smile as he handed her the two baguettes.
"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur,"
"Très bien. Passes le bonjour à ton père." (Alright. Tell your father I say hello)
"Bien sûr," (Of course) she replied as she walked out of the café with the bag of bread in one hand.
The evening crawled up her pale, slender body as she walked down the streets of Nancy. People walked out of their stores to greet her and some even stopped to give her friendly kisses on the cheek. The entire town adored her father, and they all admired how she was exactly like him – strong, intelligent, good looking, and well spoken.
Her footsteps quickened when the wind picked up as she heard the sound of a Nazi staff car follow her route. The sounds of her heels clicking against the pavement matched the rhythm of her pulse as she held on to the bag of bread. She looked around the street and noticed that everyone had retreated back to their shops and shut their windows, leaving her alone and unprotected.
She felt the sweat forming around her hairline as the cold winter air dried them almost instantaneously. Her mouth went dry as the sound of the car's motor grew deafening. She felt a lump in her throat and she fought the urge to cry. Although she knew she had no reason to fear the Nazis since she was not hiding Jews nor was she a Jew, she knew well enough that the Nazis would prey on anything – even the innocent.
Suddenly, she tripped on a crack on the pavement and landed on her hand. She laid on her back and lifted her head to make sure no one had taken her bread, but instead saw a figure exiting the black, expensive looking staff car that was shined to perfection. She sat up and rubbed the back of her head while staring at the man's shoes. Her vision was blurry and the wind caused her hair to cover half of her face. She squinted to make out the form that was standing a few feet away from her as she blew the hair away from her face.
His black boots were shined as perfectly as the car, his black leather jacket draped over his pale green Nazi uniform and ended at his knees. He was shorter than most officers she has seen walking the streets, but he looked more powerful and confident with his chin in the air and his back as straight as a ruler. The medals on his chest clinked against each other and his leather jacket swayed with the wind. Even from a distance, he looked effortlessly elegant. His footsteps stopped just in front of her as he crouched down and tipped his grey hat which was decorated with a skull.
She found herself staring at the officer, unable to find her voice out of sheer terror. The man grabbed the two rolls of bread and placed them back into the bag and placed it next to his leg. He stared back into her blue eyes with a charming grin on his clean shaven face.
"Vous allez bien, mademoiselle?" (Are you okay, miss?)he asked in near perfect French.
"Oui, merci monsieur" she replied, holding her hands out to grab the bag
"Je crains que votre pain soit fichu. Permettez-moi de vous en acheter d'autres." (I fear the bread has gotten dirty. Allow me to buy you new ones.) he said, keeping the smile on his face.
"Non merci, Monsieur. Ces baguettes feront l'affaire, ce n'est pas grave."( No thank you sir. The bread will do just fine, it's not a big deal.) she said as she rose from the ground
"Seriez-vous en train de rejeter l'offre d'un officier SS, Mademoiselle ?" (Are you rejecting an offer from an SS officer, mademoiselle?) he asked, his eyes stern.
"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur-"
"Colonel Hans Landa," he said, the smile returning to his face, "Est-ce que vous parlez anglais ?" (Do you speak English?)
She nodded.
"Excellent. I am Colonel Hans Landa of the SS and please – I do not wish for you to return home with dirty rolls of bread due to my driver's careless behavior behind the steering wheel,"
"Forgive me, Colonel but I really must get home in time for dinner," she replied in a French accent
"I see. But please, allow me to see you home as it is not safe for a young lady your age to be roaming around the streets of France this late at night," he said, gesturing to the black car
"Really, thank you Colonel but I can't possibly-"
"Mademoiselle, as a man I must not allow you to endanger yourself by walking home alone. Now, if you please," he said as his head nodded in the direction of the car
Her eyes scanned the street, looking for possible witnesses. "If you insist,"
He clapped his hands once in delight as his crooked smile grew wider.
"Wunderbar!" he exclaimed as he led her by the elbow.
She scooted into the car as the cold leather seats sent chills throughout her body. She held on tighter to the bag of bread as the colonel entered after her in one swift movement.
"Mademoiselle, this is my driver Hermann- whom I afraid frightened you with his driving antics. I apologize for his actions,"
"It's quite alright, Colonel,"
"Where to, mademoiselle?"
"My house is just a few miles down. It's the only one with a blue door. No turns, just keep going down and you won't miss it,"
Hermann gave a nod and drove on. The colonel shifted slightly in his seat to face her as his eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure to learn your name, mademoiselle,"
"Jacqueline,"
He looked at her with calculating eyes as he nodded for her to keep talking.
"Jacqueline Benoit, Colonel,"
"Ah, and such a beautiful name indeed. Tell me, are you related to Monsieur Thomas Benoit?"
She gulped as her heart stopped for a quick second.
"Oui, he is my father,"
He nodded as he shifted in his seat once more. This time he faced forward as his eyes grew cold and focused on the dimly lit driveway.
"Why do you ask, Colonel? If you don't mind me asking," she asked reluctantly as she fidgeted in her seat.
He inhaled sharply as he closed his eyes for a few seconds,
"I've heard he has one of the best libraries in the city. At last, a man who has commendable taste in literature,"
"How did you come to hear of him?"
"I'm a detective, Jacqueline. It is my job to know everything about everyone,"
The way he said her name cast a spell over her. The exaggeration he puts on the "J", the harsh pronunciation of "acque" and the way he finishes it off with a lightness in his voice when saying "line." He made her name sound like poetry. She couldn't help but look up at the man sitting next to her. His jaw was strong and his posture was impeccably straight. She knew very well who she was sitting next to.
"They call you the Jew Hunter, don't they?"
He took another sharp intake of air, "They do. But that is only a nickname, and nothing else. I am merely a detective- and a good one at that,"
She nodded in fear of saying something else to push the colonel off the edge. They both kept quiet during the entire ride to her house. The car started slowing down as Hermann pulled up in front of a house with a blue door.
"This is the one, correct?" Landa asked, pointing to the house.
"Oui,"
"Do you mind if I escort you to the doorstep and meet your father?"
She hesitated before answering, but knew she had no choice in the matter.
"Of course, Colonel,"
"Hermann, wait for me here,"
"Jawohl, Standartenführer," Hermann replied with the click of his heels as he opened the door for the colonel.
She let herself out and led the way to her doorstep. She unlocked the door and was greeted with the sound of her father playing on the piano. Thomas looked up with a wide smile as he continued playing his melody.
As much as she wanted to return the smile, she simply couldn't with the colonel walking up to the doorstep. When Landa entered the house, his boots made a loud thud as they announced his arrival. His chin was pointed in the air and his smile stretched from ear to ear. He took off his hat as he placed his hands behind his back. Once Thomas saw the colonel walk in, he stopped playing his melody and the smile on his face quickly disappeared. He stood up in surprise and walked towards the two.
"Bonsoir, M. Benoit" (Good evening, Mr. Benoit) Landa greeted with confidence in his voice as he held out a hand.
"Quelle agréable surprise, officier," (What a pleasant surprise, officer) he replied, shaking the hand that greeted him, "Je vous en prie, entrez. Voulez-vous quelque chose à boire ?" (Please, come in. Would you like anything to drink?)
"Non merci, Monsieur Benoit. Je ne suis ici que pour vous confier votre charmante à vos soins.' Parlez-vous anglais?"(No thank you, Mr. Benoit. I'm just here to greet you and bring your lovely daughter home. Do you speak English?)
"Oui,"
"Then please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Hans Landa of the SS and I'm afraid I found your daughter roaming the streets of Nancy unaccompanied and I took it as a responsibility of mine to make sure someone as charming and lovely as Jacqueline here gets home in one piece,"
"How very kind of you, Colonel. How can I ever repay you?" he asked as he rested a hand on Jacqueline's shoulder
"I have heard that you are quite an avid collector of novels and I wondered if I can spend a few minutes alone with you to converse about fine literature, seeing that no one in this city knows as much as you, M. Benoit,"
"Of course, Colonel, if that is how I can repay you. And please, call me Thomas,"
"Very well, Thomas. I hope you don't mind me stealing some of your supper time. I realize it is quite intrusive of me to have arrived unannounced,"
"Nonsense, M. Colonel, it is always a pleasure and an honor for a man of your stature to be interested in talking with me about literature. Jacqueline, would you be so kind as to give me and the colonel time alone, please?"
"Of course, father," she said, kissing his cheek, "And thank you for taking me home, Colonel Landa," she added as she gave a small curtsey in his direction.
She proceeded up the stairs and into her room to read a novel her father had brought home for her.
Thomas' and Landa's conversation went on for more than a few minutes. In fact, it had been half an hour since the colonel had arrived. She began to grow curious as to what was taking them so long, but decided it would not be wise to eavesdrop on their conversation so she continued reading her novel.
What Jacqueline did not know was that the colonel had been questioning her father- Thomas Benoit was under suspicion of being part of the resistance. Right before the Nazis came to France, he did everything in his power to make sure his records were clean, with the help of some friends. Jacqueline has never known of Thomas' affiliation with a certain group known as the Basterds. Thomas had always made sure to keep his daughter out of this part of his life in order to keep her safe. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was caught.
Jacqueline looked up from her book as she heard the sound of the front door closing. She slowly walked down the stairs to see her father sitting on the dining table with his face buried in his burly hands. She looked out the window and watched as the colonel entered the black vehicle, which disappeared into the darkness of the night. She walked to her father and placed a kiss on his forehead.
"Papa, what happened?"
He raised his head and she gasped at the paleness in his face.
"Papa? What did that man say to you?"
"Jacqueline, there is something I have to tell you," he said with a weary voice.
The next morning, Jacqueline lied in bed, unable to keep herself distracted from her thoughts. She knew her father was in grave danger. Landa knew where they lived, and he had used her to acquire another piece of his puzzle. She needed to take her mind off of this, no matter how difficult it might be. She walked down to the kitchen and stared at the two rolls of bread sitting at the same table she left them on last night.
She picked them up and held them close to her face to inspect them. They were filthy. They were coated with dirt and dried up mud, and she knew she would have to buy new ones. She barely had money, but she couldn't risk getting her father more ill than he already was.
She quickly walked up the stairs and tip toed into her father's room to find him sound asleep with a picture of her mother in one of his hands. She took the picture out of his hand, kissed the piece of paper, and laid it onto the small table next to his bed. Then she bent down to kiss her father's forehead and whispered to him that she would be out for a little while to get some bread.
Jacqueline was back at the bakery, asking the same man for two more rolls of bread. He gave them to her with worried eyes as everyone else in the bakery did the same.
"I suppose you are all aware of what happened,"
"You know we would do anything to keep your father safe, Jacqueline," said a woman in a raggedy dress
"Does the entire town know?"
Silence filled the room and she took that as a yes.
"He just wanted to protect you. You're his daughter and he loves you more than anything. After your mother passed away, he swore to himself he would do everything in his power to make sure the only family he has left is kept away from danger," added the woman
"Protect me? Protect me? By doing what? By doing something stupid such as forming an allegiance with the resistance?" she replied, her voice raising
"He's a man of morals, young one. As much as he loves you, he cannot just stand there and watch as innocent people die," the baker said
"I suppose you all know him better than I,"
"You must forgive him, Jacqueline. The last thing he would ever do is hurt you,"
She lowered her head and let a tear trickle from an eye.
"Merci for the bread, Monsieur," she said
He nodded as he moved on to the next customer. She made her way out the door and noticed a flake of what looked like snow land on her arm. Her father told her stories of ashes being spread around certain towns coming from concentration camps, but there were no camps around her town. She looked into the distance to try and make out where the fire was coming from.
The flames were rising in the middle of her neighborhood as she sprinted down the road. Eventually, she dropped the bag of bread and bolted to the source of flames. She stopped in her tracks as she watched the blue door on her house become engulfed with blazing fire as a cloud of smoke hovered over her neighborhood. Her neighbors rushed out of their houses and ran away, towards the center of town.
"PAPA!" she yelled. There was no sound.
"PAPA!" she yelled again as her voice began cracking. She stood in front of her burning house, praying to god to see her father escape unharmed even though she knew he wouldn't.
She felt as if her tongue fell back into her throat and she had just gotten run over by a train. She kept yelling for her father until the smoke clouded her vision. She fell to the ground and yelled with a strained voice until she could talk no more. Her face was flooded with tears and she felt the smoke invade her lungs and vision. She coughed violently as she wept onto the ground, making no attempt to move away from the fire that was quickly spreading.
She felt her eyes get heavier as her breathing became labored. She rested her head onto the gravel and allowed herself to close her eyes. Suddenly, she felt an arm wrap around her neck and another under her legs, lifting her from the ground. Her eyes were too weary to make out who it was, and her body was too drained to fight. After a few seconds, she felt herself being laid down onto a familiar feeling of cold leather under her legs. Then she felt a thick, warm fabric wrap around her shivering body. The scent of musky leather replaced the scent of smoke on her body as she heard the door slam shut.
She felt a hand brush back the hair on her face and a warm, damp cloth wiping against her fragile skin.
"Vous êtes d'accord, tout va bien. reposer vos yeux maintenant," (You're okay. Everything is okay. Rest your eyes now.) she heard a familiar voice say.
"Hermann, nehmen uns ins Krankenhaus," (Hermann, take us to the hospital.)
I'd really like to thank Beth Sainsbury for helping with the French! :)