Sometimes, we love the person we wished we didn't.

Only When I stop to think about it
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
You hate everything about me
Why do you love me?

Author's note: I would like to let you all know I do not own anything in relation to Inglourious Basterds, except the plot of this Fic, and the OCs. If any lyrics appear in here, I don't own any of those either. Please Pay attention to the change in text type in the dialouge. It is quiet important to the language that is being spoken. A few times I may say what language it is, but still pay attention to the colors.

German is Bold
French is Italicized
Italian is underlined
English is the normal tex

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The night was calm and quiet, nothing was on streets. Occasionally, a bomb could be heard exploding, or a few clips emptying out into the bodies of the enemy. I was not involved in any of this tonight. Tonight, I would simply be a patron of a bar.

I had several to choose from. It seemed like everyday a new one popped up, for Frenchmen and German soldiers' to numb the war. When blood coated their vision, alcohol would make it disappear.

I paused on the corner of the dimly lit street corner, my sharp eyes panning the street again. My favorite bar was the smallest, and the shabbiest. It was nestled in between two larger bars, ones that towered over the low roof of the tiny building. The front windows were grimy, hiding the name of the bar. A few bricks had fallen out of place, leaving rectangular black spaces beside the dusty dirty red. Very few knew the bar as 'Erik's'.

Even less enjoyed the inside.

I walked stealthily towards it, my steps echoing lightly on the cobblestones. The tarnished brass handle was cool against my palm, and I tugged on it to open the door. It was a dimly lit bar, the only source of light coming from a round, shadeless table lamp.

I primly removed my hat and tucked it under my arm as I made my way to my normal table. Before sitting, I removed my leather trench, placing it on the far end of the table. Perching my hat on top, I made sure the skull faced out.

I may have had the night off, but I was letting the few other patrons of the bar know that I was on my toes.

The bartender approached me carefully, asking me what I wanted. I spoke to him in French, even though I knew he could understand German. "Whiskey."

He bowed his head to me, and scrambled to get my drink from the bar. Reappearing a few seconds later, the man held a 3/4 full bottle of whiskey and a shot glass perched on a tray. He took it off the tray for a moment, showing me the bottle and waiting for my nod. Once confirmed, he set it down on the table.

"Merci," I said simply. Leaving me alone to dwell on my own thoughts, and I poured my first shot. That, or he was simply hoping I'd forget my status for a night and just enjoy the alcohol. Either way, I wasn't about to complain.

After I had thrown the first drink back, I noticed a slender feminine figure sitting at the bar. I respectfully took her in. After all, part of being a good detective is sharpening your skills. If they happen to be on a very nice looking lady, that was just the odds that were obviously with me. Smirking a bit to myself, I let my mind process the information.

Her body type told me she was French, or a long-time occupant. I called the bartender back to me. This time, I spoke in German and motioned to the girl. "Who is that?"

I watched Erik as his eyes lit up, and a crooked, spacey smile graced his ugly face. "Oh! That is Ana. She hasn't mentioned a last name yet... But she came here a few weeks ago, and every other night since. She likes your whiskey Colonel." I let out an irritated chuckle. "She has money."

That simple phrase sent the wheels turning in my head, a realization of familiarity hitting me. Money drove him. Money drove everyone. "That is all Erik."

I waved him away, studying Ana's back. Watching with a careful eye, I studied her to see any minuscule movements. Her back tensing, her jaw clenching, trying to understand if she understood German or not. I noticed no difference in her actions. She merely held her stein out for another refill, passing a few francs with it.

She whipped around quickly, and I looked down into my empty glass, hopefully avoiding detection. I could feel her eyes taking in my grey SS Uniform, and her eyes settling on all the medals adoring my left breast.

Not used to the scrutinizing gaze, I turned back to the alcohol that was delicately calling my name as if it was my long lost lover. The bottle of whiskey slowly shrank in volume, and for the first time, I didn't want to be German.

For once, I'd like a normal tolerance for alcohol. I really couldn't say for sure why I wanted that. Perhaps it was because deep in the bit of me near my belly button, I knew my air of intimidation I normally carried wouldn't work on her.

Studying the shot class with precision, I came up with a conclusion; I would go talk to her after the next shot.

Three shot later, I was still in my seat debating whether I should crack open a new bottle of my whiskey. Looking over at Ana's small form, and I found myself wondering just how much alcohol she could handle. Perhaps I had lost count since I arrived, but I noticed two replenished steins and three shots.

I got to my feet shakily, and carried the empty bottle to the bar. I slurred my words, making them come out in a blubbering mess, "Is this seat taken?" she stared blankly at me.

"Ah! Landa," Erik grabbed my attention in an instant, "I forgot to mention she only speaks English."

I gave no sign of my irritation, simply switching to English without missing a beat. "Is this seat taken?"

She shook her head, her long tresses seeming to float in the air. I pulled a stool out, perching myself upon it. Ana made no motions to tell me her name. "You're Colonel Hans Landa?" I nodded silently. "Ana. Pleasure to meet you."

Her American accent was unique compared to what I had heard before. My ears were accustomed to Aldo's deep south twang, or the thick French clogged syllables I heard in this area. She seemed to drop a lot of vowels and R's and any consonant at the end of words. It was a relief upon my ears that were anticipating the strange accent of Aldo. For a moment, my face cringed in detest, but I quickly gathered my emotions in the next beat.

"Are you enjoying France?" Always show an interest in them first. It kept them interested in you.

Ana nodded earnestly, "I've been here six months. I'm thinking of making it permanent." she looked over at me, her eyes falling again on my left breast. "Are you enjoying your time here?"

I locked my eye onto hers, "Well, somewhat." pausing for a few seconds, my mind was reeling through all the horrific stories I could tell her of the countless lives I had ended. "I've just reached a point where work gets to me."

I was assuming Ana only vaguely knew of my exploits in France. The proposition that ran though my mind sent it reeling; it was telling me that I could probably tell her things I hid from others. That wouldn't be very Colonel of me, and I quickly wrote them off as drunken thoughts. Pushing them to the back of my mind, I tried to focus on the American girl next to me.

Ana leaned towards me, resting her hand on my forearm. "Tell me about it. I can handle it."

It took me a second to process her words. I still needed to become accustomed to her accent. "Well, really it's only the day long meetings with the Fuhrer that get to me. Also, I used to love my job...but now, everything just seems out of my control. The Basterds and their-" I cut myself off, I had already said too much to her.

And that was what she wanted. Get me talking, and then next thing I knew, I'd be surrounded by British or American soldiers. My nose crinkled with disgust, and suddenly I was cursing the very existence of any form of alcohol. It made for loose tongues in the most improper of times.

"Are you alright?" Ana sent me an innocent smile. I returned it, downing another drink from Erik. The previous rant of alcoholic delusions were momentarily pushed to the back of my mind with my deepest thoughts.

We sat in silence after that, the only sound coming from Erik's tinkering. I kept an eye on her, trying to put a common assessment together about her. She seemed too quiet, even for a tourist who has been her for six months. Normally, they'd be prattling about everything they'd seen. I definitely wrote this off as particular behavior, and made sure that a red flag flew high in the back of my mind.

I watched her flick her hair back over her shoulder, and fix her skirt. Everything she did seemed to have a certain precise movement to it. She had to be some specially trained person back in the States. Another realization blinked on in the back of my mind, and it made my stomach clench in a displeasuring manor. She could be a part of another lead thorn in my sides...and I hated to think of it.

"Ah! Look at the time! I must be going. I don't mean to be rude, just leaving like this." she stood up quickly, pulling on a heavy wool coat. Using hand motions to justify her actions, my eyes quickly scanned every party of her for anything less than formality. "We shall have to meet here again soon."

I only nodded and added a raise of my glass in acceptance. With a flick of her hair, she whirled around and took long confident strides out of the bar. I put that into the filing cabinet in my mind, and watched her movements even more closely until my trained eyes spotted something out of the ordinary. Something shiny slid from her wrist an hit the ground.

"Ana! You forgot something!" I cursed myself for slipping back into French. Erik watched me with amusement as I slid off my stool, nearly falling on my knees. Cursing once again at the alcohol that my legs and tongue loose, I let out a groan. It had been a long time since I was this intoxicated.

I made my way to where I saw her belonging fall, bending over to pick it up. It was an intricate bracelet, gold and silver filaments weaving in twists and turns together reminding me of a tree. Small green enamel leaves hung off from many places on the bracelet. The clasp was snapped, obviously the thing needed mending. I slid the broken jewelry into my pocket, making note to get it to her someway.

Whether when we met again, or I found out the backwards way where she lived, I would be meeting up with her again. My detective senses finally took a hold of my alcohol induced mind, causing a grin to light up my features as I thought of all the possible ways to meet her once more. I ran my tongue over the edge of my upper teeth.

Either way, this would be one interesting hunt.

--ANA'S POV--

My heart beat twice as fast as normal and my blood rushed in and out of my face quickly. My palms were damp with sweat and the bottom layer of my hair stuck to my neck. A nice long bath would do me some justice. I let my coat fly open, letting the cool breeze blow through it and over my body. Relief seeped through my bones with each step closer to home.

I bent my chin to my chest, walking away a little faster. The sooner I was home, the better. "This morning's bread for you miss?"

My baker friend Gestapo was holding out a baguette for me. Giving him a smile and wanting to seem as normal as possible, I reached my own hand out to take the object. "Always my friend, always."

Nobody in this area of Paris knew I spoke a few languages. It was the best way to keep my cover. We exchanged formalities quickly, my money for his bread, and then he was off. The six o'clock curfew was long since past.

I broke into a trot, urging myself faster. Never once had I been caught sneaking home, and this definitely was not the time to start. The brief run in with Landa had me on the edge as it was, and I had a feeling that my night could only get riskier the longer it took me to get home. Taking a deep breath and trying to calm my jittering nerves, I repeated the time and distance until two home; two blocks and two minutes.

"Mademoiselle!" I quickly glanced over my shoulder. A tall and obviously muscular German solider was trying to flag me down. As I had predicted, my untimely run in with the head S.S. Colonel had served as the start of my bad luck. The steady trot I was at became a full fledged run.

"Stop! Or I'll shoot!" my heart fell to my feet, making it harder to run. I stumbled over a few cobblestones, and I gave up. I knew I was caught at this point. Now, all I could do was wait for the punishment. Briefly closing my eyes, I allowed myself to suck in a deep breath and try to push happy memories to the surface.

One powerful arm caught me in the gut and a rough calloused hand clamped over my mouth. My legs dangled helplessly in the air as I tried to wriggle from my captor. Perhaps if I struggled, I could actually manage to get away despite the soldiers strength.

"Ana, Goddammit! It's Donny!" he pulled his hand from my mouth, "I thought you knew French?" he had his hands on his hips by this point. "Do you even know how long it took me to learn those phrases right?"

"Well, excuse muah! I didn't think you'd be dressed as a German solider you dumbbell!" Donny chuckled. I was glad he was finding amusement in my displeasure. My heart was still racing a million miles a minute, making me feel as if I would collapse at any moment.

"It is a good disguise isn't it?" I brushed off the ever looking proud Sergeant. He was grinning from ear to ear, absolutely glowing with the fact that he had scared the wits out of me.

"Are you going to set me down yet? Patrols are due by here in less then five minutes." Donny dropped me quickly, and I landed deftly on my feet, stalking up to my door.

I didn't wait for him. If he thought he could get off easily with scaring me, he was in for a rude awakening. And as if right on cue, Donny's voice rang out from behind me, his Boston accent now fully think enough to make my head pound in familiarity. "Ana! Come on! I was just having innocent fun!"

I whirled around from my door, "Innocent Donny?! Innocent?!" I could feel my anger reaching past its boiling point.

Donny stepped closer to me, immediately intimidating me with his height. I however, was not amused nor was I intimidated by the boy looming over me. "No, I'm not finished!" I pushed on his waist, causing him to take two steps back, just to humor me. "Nothing is innocent now. Innocent can get you shot."

Donny stood back in front of me, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in annoyance. "Don't be such a downer. You don't need to think about that now," he titled my chin up, making my eyes meet his.

My eyes fluttered shut, and Donny pressed his lips to mine, pushing me into my door. However much my body was screaming for it, the nagging idea of the patrols kept jumping to the front of my mind.

"Donny- the Patrols," I whispered when he broke away momentarily. He gave a quick glance around before unlocking my door all that way. It bumped against the back wall, and Donny lifted me up over the threshold. Once my feet were flat on the ground, Donny was back to kissing me, playing with the collar off my coat and urging me to remove it.

However, I broke away and took a few steps back before removing it. That little voice of reason was screaming at me again, and I couldn't push it away this time. "Donny. I can't, I need to take a bath and -"

I was cut off by Donny's snort of disbelief, "Babe, I thought you liked it down and dirty. You always loved me coming over after baseball games..." he closed the distance between us and pulled my hips to his. He leaned down to kiss me and I turned my head away defiantly, "Fine, go take your stupid bath."

He pushed me away from him, and I fell into a table knocking my hip against the hard wooden object. Sending a glare his way, I gave up on the matter. I could see him moving his hand around an imaginary bat. He felt awkward without it and I really didn't want to make him any more upset.

I sighed before heading into the small bathroom. Pulling my clothes off, I left them in a heap by the hamper. I turned the faucets on, waiting for the tub to fill with water. As I was tipping in some soap to make suds, the bathroom door opened, allowing Donny's head to peeped in. "Oh shit Ana! I'm sorry."

I rolled my eyes, completely used to his 'apologies'. "Right Donny. You can come in, just close your eyes."

Donny groaned, "You ruin all my fun. This is the last time I'll get to see you naked for a very long time I hope you know."

I couldn't help but giggle; this was making me feel like I was a college student again. Although I knew his every motive, I couldn't help but deny the fact that he could make me smile even when I was trying to ignore him and be mad. "Tough shit Donowitz."

Leaning over, I pinched his side, knowing full well that he was ticklish. Before I could scramble to the tub, Donny wrapped his arms around me and in the process pinned my arms to my sides. "Now, you know that I hate to be tickled. So to get out of this predicament, you owe me something."

"Whatever could that be?" I asked sarcastically.

"You know," he rested his chin on my head. Of course I knew; the whole damn group of Basterds knew what he meant, even when he just 'slyly' mentioned it to them. I stood on my tip toes and kissed his jaw line down to his collar bone slowly. Donny release his hold around me and I glanced up at him, see that his eyes were closed.

Bad move.

"Sucker!" I giggled, slipping away and into the now full tub.

Donny whined. "You've rejected me twice tonight now. Don't you know how to just give in?"

"If I knew how to give in, would I be here as a spy?"

"Forget about being a spy, forget about the war, forget about the Basterds for just ten minutes, okay?" I nodded. Blocking that stuff out had gotten easier over the years. Donny sat on the edge of the tub. "Now, all that aside, do you really think you can resist my utterly romantic charm?"

He leaned closer to me. Well, maybe just kissing him would be okay. I met Donny halfway, trying to ignore his victorious half smile pressing into my lips. Instead, I allowed my hands to travel over his shoulders, fingers finding their way to the edges of his suspenders like it was a habit they couldn't break. This time it was me urging him to remove all his clothes. Somehow it always ended up being me on this end of the stick.

Donny gave me a light grin and kicked his shoes off, his clothes following right behind. A long leg was slung over the side of the tub. A splash and a few ripples later, Donny and I were settled closely together in the tub. He pressed a feather light kiss to my neck and for the first time since I came to Paris, things felt right.