AN: So the beginning is Landa's perspective on meeting Celest. Please Read and Review. I hope you enjoy
"Stop the vehicle." called Landa from his backseat spot. His man that was driving looked up at him confused into the rear view mirror. "What?" asked the man without addressing Landa appropriately. Hans let it slide because he wasn't in the mood for such things today. It was a dreary cold day and it reflected in Landa's mood darkly. He ran a hand down the knees of his pants before he replied. "I said stop the vehicle. I saw someone on the road." explained Landa as he kept his eyes forward, staring at the rear view mirror, directly into the man's eyes. The vehicle slid to an abrupt stop and the driver turned his head and tried to see if he saw anyone on the road like the Colonel had said.
Landa aloud the soldier to look for a few minutes before he cleared his throat, signaling a man to let him out. The passenger stepped out of the vehicle and then opened the door for Landa to exit the backseat. Landa stepped out into the bitter cold air and rolled his shoulders, giving them more blood flow. He wore his black leather coat, so most of the cold was left out. He thanked his man and then turned his imposing gaze down the street where he had seen someone standing. As he looked around for the person, he pulled on his leather gloves. He wouldn't want his hands getting cold.
It didn't take but a moment to spot the woman who wore a hunter green skirt with a matching smoke jacket. In the distance he couldn't see much more about her other than she had fire red hair. He started walking towards her with purpose, for he was a man who always had a purpose, his man following close beside him. The nearer he drew the more he realized that she was wild eyed with pain. It reminded him of a wounded animal. Yet not just any animal.
He categorized her in his head instantly as a wounded tiger. Dark, fierce, and dangerous is what she was. He knew just by looking at her that she had a fierce attitude, a dark demeanor, and that she would be dangerous for him to be around. His hawk instincts took over as he stopped before her. This woman had to possibly be the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen wandering around the countryside, and possibly the only one who he had seen wandering around. He began to speak to her. When she replied to him, her voice was soft and lilting, music to his ears, no matter how strained her voice was with pain.
He gauged her to be around 30 something years old, maybe older give or take. The more they conversated the more he realized he didn't care what this woman had to say. He really wasn't in the mood for what this woman had to say. He only wanted to bask in her beauty, and think of other things that resonated in his mind. So she said she was hurt, didn't take away from the dark spark in her hazel eyes. Yes, this woman was going to be very dangerous for him to be around.
Her hair was tied back into a braid down her back, but even her hair couldn't hide the fact that it was a handful of unruly curls that would frame her face just right. Her face was long and angular, the way a French movie star would look. Her hazel eyes were as intense as his and he found out the longer he stayed in her company the longer he realized this woman had many of his same traits. As he stared into her eyes he almost felt compelled to tell her his many secrets. It was the same gaze he used on people he interrogated. It was his famous stare that told people that he already knew all the answers; he just wanted you to say them. That was her exact gaze as well. It almost unnerved him. His eyes slid away from her eyes and down her nose. Her nose was small, slightly upturned, and her mouth was set in full lips. She was the sort of woman that he would chase, if he were on the chase for women that was.
Then she said something that completely lightened his mood, for the most part.. For one she was hurt, and he always was the sort to enjoy other's pain. Second, she supposedly had been hurt by the Basterds. She said as plain as day that the Basterds stormed her home and killed all the Germans, and shot her in the process. A small smile graced his lips and then he let the smile slide away. They spoke a few more minutes and then she caught his gaze and held it. He no doubt thought she was lying to him about something and so they stared into each other's eyes. He couldn't help but feel more caught by her than her being caught by him.
Eventually he wanted to know more about her, more on a personal inquiry than for a business one. He asked for her papers though, keeping this as professional as he could. After a moment she asked him to reach into her pocket, playing the ever helpless innocent woman, which he knew that she wasn't. He had a knack for reading people, and since he already had the feeling that she was hiding something, he knew that she wasn't a helpless innocent. He reached forward and helped her. She smelt of sweat and forest, which was surprisingly not a bad smell for her he thought. Once he pulled out the papers that he had asked for, he looked them over with a detached eye. At this moment he didn't care if the papers were forged or really hers papers. Everything seemed in order though. Her name caught him instantly, such a delightful name. For only a second he aloud himself to smile, a real smile that wasn't forced or faked.
He wanted to smile more though, knowing soon that he was getting closer to the Basterds. Eventually he would have them in his hands and he would be even more famous. A swell of pride lit his chest as he thought about how wonderful it would be to bring the Basterds to their knees. He wouldn't do it because he was offended by what they did to Nazi's, he just wanted to glory of killing them. He wanted the self satisfaction of putting them under. But today he didn't feel good so after the smile had tugged his lips he set a scowl back on his face.
The ending result of his morning was going to the cottage in which she lived.
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He gently pulled her to the truck by her good arm's elbow after he had tucked her papers firmly into his jacket pocket. His long fingers were just barely touching her, but they left a burning sensation through her coat. The Jew Hunter was touching her. He wasn't just touching her, he was leaving his infected mark upon her coat. She refrained from giving him a nasty look as he pulled her gently along. A few steps away from the vehicle she swayed and he stopped to allow her to regain her footing.
She nodded once she was okay and he nodded back, playing the gentleman. She wished she knew what he was thinking, or why he had kept her papers. He helped her climb into the car, easy not to touch her inappropriately. She came to sit comfortably on the leather seat before she scooted closer to the corner to allow the Colonel to enter behind her.
Once he sat next to her, his heat engulfed her like a flame. His very presence was near suffocating her. It was okay though, she was determined not to let him bother her more than he already was. She was smarter than the Jew Hunter. Obviously she was sitting next to him and he was oblivious to who she really was. She wouldn't allow herself the smile that tried to creep upon her lips. She just kept her pained expression as she pointed the men to the cottage that she had called home.
The ride took nearly fifteen minutes, and the entire time thoughts swirled in her head, and the Jew Hunter's scent swirled into her nose. She didn't want to admit it, but she thought his masculine scent of leather mingled with tobacco smelled very splendid. It was comforting to her even if he was the Jew Hunter. She leaned back against the seat more comfortably and let herself ease into a sense of safeness.
She was safe though. She could tell that he had no idea what she was hiding from him. She was aware that he knew she was hiding something though. It didn't bother her though, she knew that he wouldn't find out unless she told him, and she had no intentions of telling a man who killed Jews for a living that she was a Jew.
The ride to the house was silent which she was thankful for. Her throat was dry and she didn't feel like speaking. The more they rode along she started to feel sick. Nausea swept over her and she swore she must have turned green in color. Landa glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. She smiled sweetly at him though, not wanting him to worry about her to the point he would talk to her. Then the truck rounded a corner and her cottage slid into view.
She hissed in pain for the loss of her home as they came upon the cottage burning to the ground. She had been so into her own thoughts she hadn't noticed the black acrid smoke rising to the air. Why had they burned her home? Tears pricked her eyes and Landa patted her knee sympathetically. She felt real emotion in his pat, but the emotion she felt was of a man who enjoyed her pain. So be it, let him enjoy her pain, she didn't care. Then her eyes dragged over the gruesome sight of the German soldiers who had been killed laying in a row in front of the house. Every one of them were missing their shoes, and missing their scalps. She felt frozen as she stared at their bodies. She couldn't bring herself to even look away.
Relief filled her heart. Good, more Germans were dead, she could have smiled. Yet instead she hissed again, tears flowing down her cheeks and turned abruptly to hide her face into Colonel Landa's chest. She felt him stiffen, as she shook against him. She shook with effort from trying not to be happy, she was good though, making the Colonel think she was sick from the sight before their truck. He smoothed down her hair with a hand and struggled with his own emotions. He should have been happy about what he saw before him. Yet this woman was making it hard for him to do so.
She wracked her shoulders as she let out a very believable sob. Landa hushed her before telling the driver to continue back to their quarters. It went without saying that while his truck left; the other two trucks would stay and start to trail the Basterds ferociously.
"Mademoiselle, it is alright to look now." he said as he shifted away from her. She nodded and straightened herself up. She apologized which he held up a hand to stop her. "It is alright Mademoiselle, I perfectly understand." he said with a smile. He was relieved though when she pulled away. He didn't like the way she fit perfectly into his arms. He had never held a woman that just fit him. He really had to push this smile on her, because unlike his normal chipper self, today he just was not in the mood, and his mood had just worsened by her. He at first blamed it on the cold, but now he was starting to think that it had to do with the fact that he had not had a good feeling about the day. Just like he didn't have a good feeling about the woman who sat next to him in his truck crying as silently as she could, that fit into his arms like she had been made to be there.
Of course she didn't know what was going on through Landa's head, but what she did know was that she had managed twenty minutes in his company and he still did not know that she was Jewish. She counted this a small victory in the war that was soon to follow her if she stayed in his company for much longer.
"Thank you Monsieur for helping me." she whispered as she glanced his way.
"It is no problem, I could not leave a hurt woman to fend for herself. You are rather lucky that I saw you on the road, my dear." he explained as he kept his stony gaze forward. She refrained from smiling. Yes, how very nice that I met you, the Jew Hunter, on the road. Let him believe that he had saved her life. She didn't care what he thought, all she knew was that her mind started to reel with ways to extract what little revenge she could on one of the most famous Nazi's in France.
She wasn't sure what she would do to him, all she knew was that she had a few days in his company to think. Like any perfect gentlemen, he would keep her in his care a few days before releasing her. In those few days, it would give her time to formulate the perfect plan. It would give her time to find his weak spot, and she knew he had one, everyone had a weak spot. As he stared forward, she caught herself watching him with still teary eyes. He was a devastatingly handsome man. If this weren't the war, and he wasn't a Nazi, she would have felt the urge to want to be with a man like him. Just the thought of that though made her stomach churn unsettling.
The truck jostled suddenly and she whimpered with pain. She grabbed her arm and closed her eyes. Good thing too, she missed the look of excitement on Landa's face. He enjoyed her pain ruthlessly. It somewhat brightened his day with this beautiful stranger that he was very wary of.
"Are you alright Celest?" he asked as he reached to look at her arm. She nodded and pulled away from him. He understood when someone just wanted to take care of their own pain, and this woman needed that time now. She breathed in and out of her nose and closed her eyes to concentrate on only her breathing. Soon they would have to stop and she could get some actual, well needed rest. She was hopeful that they would stop sooner than later. It took another twenty minutes until the stopped, and she found herself weaker than she had expected to be.
She was tired from running, and the blood loss. She was slumped into a corner when the truck came to a stop. She glanced up long enough to see Landa's confused expression before she blacked out.
