Dear readers, I wrote this back in 2011 when I was really into Inglourious Basterds. I have not revised this since then. Hopefully I wrote coherently enough back then... :)

Finally decided that keeping it in the secret folder on my desktop was pointless and lame of me so here it is!

Fredrick rapped the door twice, and then he stood, his palms clamming up and his breathing ragged with anxiety. Who was he kidding? He wasn't brave, not brave like they thought he was. He couldn't even pursue this girl right, but oh god did he fancy her.

Hold it, what was he here for…

The Colonel had given him a direct order... to do – to do what?

Oh, forget that now... silly.

What was taking the girl so long? Surely doors weren't that hard to open.

Fredrick stood there as his thoughts switched seamlessly from the door in front of him to the girl inside. She was simply too goddamn lovely: lovely to gaze at from afar and even lovelier to attempt to converse with, he found himself thinking.

This girl! This girl – Fredrick! She's a prize, that one…

He chuckled.

Fredrick puzzled. Was he a man simply interested in the chase, or was he genuinely in love with Emmanuelle?

The Colonel… Direct order - What for…

My god, Emmanuelle – a Jew!

The Colonel had ordered for her to be killed – but by whom: by him?

Fredrick instantly recoiled. His hands locked around his mouth, he began gulping in deep breaths of air.

He startled when he heard the door open, throwing his hands off of his mouth all at once like a madman. Still eager to look his best in front of the girl, he ran his fingers through his mussed hair, in a highly self-conscious attempt to comb it.

"Uuh, E-Emmanuelle – how are you-u?" Fredrick stammered, greeting her with that characteristic tip of his head and wave of his hand. He felt like he could barf right there. The nausea…

Shosanna gave Fredrick the usual raised brow and a hostile reply.

"Hello, Fredrick, what do you want?"

Fredrick thought hard. Oh my god what could he possibly say? What did he want!

"Oh, I want nothing!" He heard himself say. He then forced a chuckle. The best he could muster was a small choking sound.

Shosanna stared at Frederick.

Fredrick shut his eyes tight, forcing himself to recall – recall completely, the evening's events – then he would decide what to do. The party. The party. It had been a nice party. Lots of drinking, oh yes… Oh my god he had done a lot of drinking.

Before all that drinking... the Colonel had summoned him, informed him that Emmanuelle was in reality, Shosanna Dreyfus. And Shosanna Dreyfus was a Jew – that she was some… escapee – and that he, Fredrick, was to put a bullet in her head.

To be honest, the real puzzle was WHY HIM? Anyone could pull a trigger. Why did Landa want Fredrick?

Was he that sick of a bastard -

Fredrick's eyelids fluttered open. But would he allow himself to kill her?

Shosanna tapped her foot. "Fredrick, are you alright?"

The teenage boy in Fredrick suppressed a smile; she was actually concerned for him.

"Fredrick." Shosanna said, clearly exasperated.

"Sorry, sorry!" Fredrick quickly answered.

"Stop drifting away like that, just tell me why you're here."

"Ah – my apologies – Shosanna!" Fredrick said, dreadfully embarrassed and immediately self-conscious again. Her presence was casting its effect on him again.

He lifted his gaze only to see a bomb detonate within her eyes. Her mouth formed a small O. Fredrick felt his breath catch - he had called her Shosanna, out loud.

The two stared at each other, shell-shocked and wide-eyed; Shosanna at what Fredrick had said. Fredrick at what he had said. She knew he knew.

Shosanna tried, she tried her utmost, but she couldn't stop the trembling lip, the resurfacing of the memory of bullets flying into the petrified bodies of her family around her, and she most certainly couldn't regain her composure.

Would she be the one that the bullet flew into this time?

Fredrick knew he couldn't deliberate. Oh dear, he thought he had more time to banter. He had to think fast. Either do as he had been ordered to and… kill her – Fredrick subconsciously reached for the luger tucked in his uniform – or…

'Or'? Or what? – Fredrick scathingly thought – Reassure the Jew, whisk her out of this Nazi-deathtrap cinema and elope with her to someplace else? Even thinking it sounded insane. The first option was by far the only realistic one.

Do your job. Or your military status will be the first to go. All those people killed for nothing. Hans would make sure of that. Hmm, 'Hans' – it felt good using his superior's first name. Even if it was just in his head. Like he was such a rebel.

HANS gave you a job, and if you don't go do it, HANS – your superior – is going to make sure you rue your decision. DO YOUR JOB. SHE COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE WORTH YOUR CAREER.

SHE IS A FILTHY JEW.