R_S: Sooo I forgot this existed until IB came on TNT a couple hours ago… Sorry!

Also, I know I sent someone a bunch of stuff outlined for the story and details about the girls to keep them in character and not perfect. But I sent this waaaay back when… and I have since lost it… so if anyone still has it in their inbox, I'd be much obliged. Thanks!

Chapter 4

My Sisters' Keeper

Rosa dabbed delicately around Stiglitz's wound, periodically refreshing the rag in the water or getting a new one when it became too coated with blood. Her delicate piano fingers, the man noticed, were beginning to stain red. He was an easy patient, she thought while sending him a smile, if not a little unfriendly. He did not respond in kind, only continued to stare at her with deep, calculating eyes. The swirl of intelligence was intimidating, that much was certain, but not as disconcerting as she might have imagined. They were an intense grey-blue, like the sky before a storm or the sea just after. And he was seriously attractive. She had not seen a lot of hot young men since she spent her time holed up in the house now that they were in France, let alone got to interact with them. He might not have been all that young, but he certainly was more than a little good looking… especially for his age. Some of the younger privates could have been good looking too, though it was hard to see through all the muck that coated them. As a young girl, it really did take all her energy not to gaze around her and drool. She was surrounded by nearly a dozen men, muscular soldiers at that. Could life be anymore grand? Yes, definitely. Their manners left something to be desired, and she would much have preferred the situation if some were not dying and her life was not in danger just for aiding them (they also hadn't showered in quite a while, and she could smell it). It was funny, she dreamed of adventure every day for as long as she could remember. Then suddenly it was thrust into her lap with the death of Richard and Aunt Adélaïde, a voyage into Nazi occupied France, and now clandestinely aiding American soldiers in hiding… it all seemed to surreal, like a storybook she had gotten too invested in. But the wet cloth in her hand was real, as was the way the light shone on Herr Stiglitz's toned chest and the circle of men that surrounded her. She had been thrust none too gently into this new adventure, and she would have to make the best of it… even if she felt so nervous she might puke (although, that could have been partly due to the smell). The nervous queasiness pulled her back into reality just in time to finish cleaning Hugo's wounds. Looking at her handy work, she nodded. She had cleaned up all the excess fluid and the little dried blood that had surrounded the wound.

"Alright, let's let that dry for a few minutes and then wrap it so the bandages don't stick to your skin. In the mean time…" She handed him a pill with a glass of water. He took both from her, shifting the pill around in his hand before just looking up at her with one eyebrow raised.

"What? Aren't you going to take it?" Donny snorted and gave her an incredulous look.

"Girl, we definitely ain't dumb enough to take something when we don't know what it is."

"Are you kidding me? It's not poison!" She turned to Aldo, "Mr. Raine, I can't treat your men if they aren't going to take the medicine I supply them."

The southerner sighed and held out his hand, "Lemme see 'em." Rolling her eyes, Rosa handed over the bottle of Prontylin and he inspected them.

"See?" She insisted, "It's just antibiotic. Why would I even have poison?"

He nodded, "Looks fine to me. Go 'head n' take it. If you die, the rest of us'll know not to." That earned him a glare, but the German did as his captain instructed and swallowed the pill with a quick swig of water. His Adams apple bobbed with the movement, drawing Rosa's eyes for only a second before she forced her gaze down. Everything was silent for a moment as the soldiers waited to see what would happen, as if whatever poison she might have slipped him would work instantaneously. Even the girl became nervous, though it made no sense, wondering if perhaps he would drop dead for some reason completely unrelated to her and she might be killed for it. But after a few moments, when Stiglitz was still fine, she calmed herself and scoffed at her foolishness. She made a valiant attempt to hide her previous anxiety, but she wasn't sure how good of a job she did as she caught Stiglitz and Raine giving her knowing smirks from the corner of her eye. She did her best to ignore both their mocking expressions and the blush that threatened to surface as a result and turned her attention to the man on the table. He looked god-awful, and it was time to address that fact.

"I'm not too concerned with Herr Stiglitz, a few doses of antibiotic and regularly changed wrappings and he should be fine. But this man, Mr…."

"Wilhelm Wicki, Austrian Jew." She gave him a curious look, as though why the second half of that statement was at all relevant, but continued nonetheless.

"Well as for Herr Wicki, with the infection, he needs whatever we can give him. But I'm afraid this is all we have." She motioned to the pile of virtually useless medication on the table. An uneasy silence spread throughout the room, heavy in the air like fog. Gone was the smirk of the lieutenant and in its place set a war-weary expression of resignation.

"What do you suggest, Princess?"

Rosa shrugged, "I'll clean his wound, wrap him up, and see if I can get some medicine into him, but I don't know what else there is…" All was silent for a moment, before a light clamoring was heard.

"Alright sweetie," a woman's voice called, interrupting herself with a yawn, "what was this emergency you needed my help with?" A woman, presumably Rosa's sister, stepped into the kitchen. She was willowy, with a more pronounced sense of grace about her but without as noticeable womanly curves or nearly as full a bust. She could only have been a few inches taller than her younger sister, but the thinness of her form made her seem to tower over the girl. Her face was thin and a little plain, but pretty nonetheless. It was her hair, however, that truly caught the eye. It fell in soft waves, framing her face like gold silk. At the roots it was dark, nearly as dark as her sister's, but it quickly lightened into a bright honey-ash blond of a beautiful tone. The change in hue was gradual, a result of being susceptible to sun bleaching. The effect was remarkable, so that, though her face might have been lacking in any depth or upstanding beauty, she was still an eye-catching creature.

She did not, however, seem to be as taken with them.

"Rosa, w-what's going on?!" Her sister took a step back in alarm, clasping her hands one above the other against her stomach. It was only then that the men in the room noticed the telltale tiny bump. The woman could not have been more than three months pregnant, four at most, but even this small baby bump was in stark contrast to her thin willowy form. The hands that clasped her midsection were thin, with long sinuous fingers. Both the sisters had delicate, beautiful hands.

"Phoebe, Phoebe, please don't panic. They're American soldiers and they need help and, and… I don't know what to do. I'm not very good at this, not as good as you and Celia. Please? They need our help." Rosa pleaded with her sister, eyes glazing slightly with tears. Raine and the Basterds had considered the dangers of trusting the little girl from the cave, but in their preoccupation with their teammates' wellbeing, they had neglected to consider her sisters' reactions. Evidently the blond one was far less enthusiastic about offering them aid.

She shook her head, "No, Rosa, no… are you insane? Do you know what you've done, how dangerous this is?" She stumbled back further, meeting the wall. The younger girl was lost, unsure of how to calm her sister down and take charge of the situation. For their part, the men were growing restless, not wanting to attack the situation prematurely but unwilling to be caught unaware. Raine would have neither and shot a quick glare at them with a gruff order to 'settle.' Rosa took this opportunity to grab her sister's arm and steer her out of the room. The tension left in their wake was palpable, and strain as they did, the Basterds were unable to make-out their muffled voices from the other room.

"Told you this was a bad idea," Donny growled, adjusting his gun threateningly, "now we're royally fucked! We-"

"Damnit Donny, that's enough!" Raine snapped harshly, slamming his fist on the table near Wicki. The incapacitated man groaned and lolled his head but was otherwise unresponsive. "I am your commanding officer, and you will not question my orders. Now we may be in a tight sit'ation, but it ain't nothing worse'n what we handled 'fore. Least we ain't fightin' in a basement. Now y'all better shut up n' lemme think."

The Bear Jew glared back coldly, "All due respect, Lieutenant, fat lot of good all your thinking's gonna do us when those girls are callin' in the Gestapo as we speak. We have to get out of here, now… and cover our trail behind us." Every other soldier began to throw his two cents in. Before Aldo could respond and quell the unwelcome discussion, they were interrupted by Rosa dragging her unwilling sister back through the door. It was almost comical, both the smaller girl's hands wrapped around the elder's forearm, as she tried to fight her way back to the door. Her speech was punctuated with grunts of exertion.

"Phoebe- please! Just take a look at them- these men are- ugh!" She slipped on some of the mud that had been tracked in earlier and dropped to her knees unceremoniously. The blond stopped her struggling just enough to help scoop her back to her feet. Some of the soldiers looked as though they might have moved to help, but all remained silently were they stood.

"Oh, for the love of- are you alright?" Rosa nodded and looked up to her with big eyes.

"Phoebs, please just take a look at them. That's all I'm asking for." For a moment, they thought she would bolt again, flee the scene at such a request. But the pleading in her bay sister's eyes proved to be far too hypnotic for such an escape, and the blond found herself begrudgingly nodding in acquiescence. Her movements were slow but graceful as she glided over to the two injured men, eyeing all the others warily before setting her gaze on the gun wounds. She hardly even winced at them, a stark contrast to the greenish hue that Rosa had taken upon gazing on them. The blond glanced back to said sister.

"Have you drained the wounds yet?"

"… I really wasn't aware that I should." As though expecting this answer, she nodded and sat down beside the two men, slipping her ring off her finger and into the pocket of her dress. It now made sense to the Basterds why Rosa seemed intent on fetching her panicky sister's aid. Phoebe worked quickly, hands nimbly dancing across the wounded with bandages and medication as though she had done it her entire life. Ever filled with the need to talk, the younger girl had explained how the blond was a volunteer at the local hospital back home in the states, so in some essence she had. Clearly this was a woman suited more to homemaking than anything else, and the years of work had taught her well. Undoubtedly she would make a fine mother to her unborn baby and was already an equally well wife, though that raised the question as to where exactly the husband was- a question that the Basterds knew better than to put wholly out of their minds.

Phoebe cared for the hurt men the way only a natural-born mother could. Her touch was gentle and her manner sympathetic, despite her previous distaste at having them there. It seemed one of the traits she shared with her sister was a bleeding heart. Her age and character set some stark contrasts, however. She did not blush coyly the way Rosa had when dealing with the men; she smiled warmly, if a bit fearfully, and worked with modest professionalism. Questioning Stiglitz as to the extent of his pain had left her amused at his silent-type persona, and she seemed to take Donny's assertions worth an amusing grain of salt. More than anything, however, the soldiers noticed she was an old soul. She seemed as though she could mother Stiglitz and Raine easily, her manner so maternal, yet her eyes held decades of sadness that were not mirrored in her sister's. Her countenance spoke of pain and delicate strength, like a flower that pushes its way through fallen snow to bloom. If she still held any further qualms about their presence, she kept them deeply hidden, and by the time she was finished, knew every Basterd's name. When asked about her sudden change of heart, she denied one. She wanted to help them, because they were hurt. She did not want to help them, because what she was doing was suicidal. But, she never did anything halfway, and in this case, she was in it no matter what, so she might as well know about what she was getting into.

"Alright," the blond sighed, cleaning her hands off, "I've done what I can for now. You gentlemen need to get him to swallow one of these. I'm going to run upstairs to see if there's any more ant-"

The creak of a door from far away drifted in.

"Pheobs," Rosa said slowly, her voice fretful, "please tell me that wasn't what I thought it was."

Her sister's eyes drifted shut, "Celia's home early… this isn't going to be pretty." Rosa didn't answer just chewed her lip thoroughly (really, the Basterds had started to consider it a wonder that she had yet to bite it off). As though sensing her discomfort, Phoebe sent her a sidelong glance.

"We'll talk to her together. She can't strangle both of us; she needs two hands per neck. Please excuse us, gentlemen." She nodded to the men and excused herself, wiping her hands on the dry corner of a stray blood-coated rag. Rosa followed her from the room like a bashful kitten. The two made their way to the front hall where their sister was tiredly removing her coat, hair tight in a French twist that never seemed to look any less perfect than when she first put it up, as though the very strands were too terrified to defy her. Phoebe smiled softly, taking her coat and placing it gently in the closet for. Rosa hung back near the doorway out of notice, wondering what was going to happen as she watched her run a soothing hand over their older sister's arm.

"Hello, Celia. How was the trip?"

The brunette scowled, "Tiresome… and I think the Germans had the gall to search our things." She shot a suspicious look at the boxes placed near the door. She had been at the Spanish port San Sebastián to pick up some things sent by their parents, a 3 hour drive each way.

"What do you expect; they were routed from America."

"Well I still don't like it… Did Rosa clean the kitchen as I asked?" Her crisp, blue eyes had not yet fallen on the rain-soaked girl shrinking in apprehensive anticipation. Phoebe hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

"Yes, she did, but… certain circumstances demand that she do so again."

Celia stiffened, turning to face her, "What is that supposed to mean?" Her slight French lilt was more pronounced with her demand. The blond motioned Rosa forward with a gently curl of her wrist, as she looked her other sister in the eye.

"Honey, I said I would help explain, not do it for you." The youngest tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear as she shuffled forward, wondering what it was about her sisters that made her feel like such a child. She was old enough to be considered an adult, well-read and well-bred enough to be considered a lady. But the moment you placed her in a room with Celia and Phoebe, it was as though none of that had ever happened, and she was reduced to the same insecure child of her memories. Now, approaching the two, her heart seemed to physically ache with trepidation, and she wondered how on earth it slipped her mind how difficult telling her oldest sister about her childishness would be (and she admitted wholly that unhesitatingly opening their home to strangers was inarguably childishly naïve and irresponsible).

"Welcome home, Celia." She muttered in a small voice, playing with the hem of her now probably ruined dress. The woman's icy gaze moved to regard her and widened almost comically at her appearance.

"What on god's green earth- Rosa, what happened to you? I told you it felt like rain; why don't you ever listen? And why didn't you change- I hope you realize that dress is ruined now."

"That is not the most pressing issue at the moment," Phoebe interrupted delicately; "perhaps you would like to sit down and let us explain… we have guests."

"Guests? Phoebe, tell me you're joking; I don't have the energy for this. And Rosa, tell me you haven't greeted them looking like that. Anyway, who would call upon the house this late at night?" At Celia's annoyed glare, Phoebe turned to their sister with a single, elegant eyebrow raised.

"Well," Rosa conceded, wringing her hands, "they didn't call upon us so much as I… happened upon them out on our property."

"Is Guillaume Michaud hunting in our woods again? I thought I made it quite clear he was not to be caught doing so again, mon dieu-"

"It is not Guillaume. It is much more complicated than that." Phoebe smoothed down her dress as she spoke, her fingers running over her bump with particular gentility.

"Celia, please understand that this was something I had to do."

"The longer you both take to tell me what is going on, the angrier I am going to get." Her voice was even, a tell-tale sign that she was not to be trifled with.

"Rosa brought in some strays with messy injuries and even messier strings." Phoebe stated simply, looking to her younger sister to imply she prepare herself.

"How many strays, like a litter of kittens?"

"Sort of…" Rosa trailed off, unable to lift her gaze from the floor, "a battalion of wounded American soldiers, is sort of like kittens…"

"A WHAT?!" She demanded shrilly, looking between the two.

From the kitchen, the silence that had set in was punctuated by her shriek. The conversation had been quiet until then, only indistinguishable murmurs that drifted from the parlor. Now, though, the third woman's words punctuated the air sharply. Her voice was shrill as a harpy, Utivich noted with no lack of snark, and the women's argument renewed the bickering of the men. It was time, Raine was realizing, to soon make a decision. If it came down to his men or the women helping them, he would have to choose his men; that was the way of things. Rosa and Phoebe seemed quite kind, and the sacrifice of their lives would not be forgotten or easy for his men to handle, he knew. But war came with consequences, and the unfortunate truth was that their sister might cost them their lives. Aldo Raine was nothing if not a realist. He might hope for the best and wish for luck from beavers, but he always prepared for the worst.

"Enough, the lot of ya." He hissed, "Pipe the hell down. Kagan, keep the door propped; we need t'be hearin' everything they say. We need to be on guard, in case we gotta make a judgment call." His meaning was clear, eyes locked with Stiglitz as he nodded a grim set jaw. Through the slightly ajar door, the discussion of their fate flowed heavily through the air. Rosa bemoaned their state like they were lost puppies that followed her home.

"They were injured, Celia, and in need of help! I couldn't just leave them there!"

"This isn't some little baby bunny with a broken leg, Rosa! These are grown men and soldiers at that; soldiers that are enemies of the occupying forces. This was foolish, Rosa, even for you." The younger sister winced noticeably at that, tears welling in her big doe eyes.

She shook her head, "Your fancy schools taught you a lot, Celia, but they can't teach you what feels right. If you can't-" The eldest's gaze hardened, and she afforded her sister no further argument.

"Go change, Rosa. Phoebe and I will discuss this." Rosa balked in disbelief.

"Don't dismiss me like a child-"

"Now, Rosa." For a moment, it seemed as though she might offer further argument, but she instead offered a heartbroken, withering look and shuffled out of sight.

"If you plan to debate this with me," Phoebe cut in coolly, before Celia could start her ranting anew, "you'll have to do it in the kitchen. I've promised Rosa I would treat those men, and it hardly seems worth it to stop when we've nearly finished." Without waiting for response, she strode gracefully into the kitchen, unwitting of what awaited her. The sight of men clutching their guns defensively gave her pause, jarring her backward a step, but to her credit, serenity won out.

"Now, there's no need for that." Her voice was mellow as she dropped down beside Wicki's lame form to continue her work. Raine motioned for everyone to relieve their weapons but allowed Donny the white-knuckled clutch that seemed to comfort him as the mysterious third sister slipped into the room.

Celia was the tallest of the three, though it was hard to tell in comparison to Phoebe's willowy form, and built much sturdier than her sisters. She was graceful in a more stern way, like a governess marching her children in a row. There was not a wrinkle on her person or a hair out of place, as though the rain outside had not dared to fall on her. Her features were harsh and striking, with cold blue eyes that seemed to cut right into the men's bones as she stood guard over the blonde and observed them with pursed lips. From those twisted lips extended a deep scar, which indented her skin in a harsh line. It ended just even with the crook of her nose but continued up against her eyebrow, leaving a thin bald patch. She said nothing the entire time as Phoebe worked, and the silence somehow managed to extend to his men. Like the snow queen told of in fairy tales, she had a cooling effect on all around her.

Even Rosa was silent when she returned, for the first time since making their acquaintance. She had changed, throwing on a dark bluish-purple dress that fell to mid-calf and buttoned up the front with the same pea green wool sweater over it. The girl hovered nervously at Phoebe's elbow, but sensing her uselessness, she busied herself by passing out cups of water to the soldier. Such actions only served to deepen the scowl that had etched itself onto Celia's already harsh features, however, and eventually the youngest girl retreated fretfully to a corner as Phoebe finished. Wicki's wound was drained and treated (the process garnering a few retches from some of his men, which in turn earned them a withering glare from Celia's icy gaze, so they learned to refrain), and both he and Stiglitz were re-wrapped, a process Rosa was allowed to help with.

"Ladies," Raine finally spoke as the younger two cleaned up, "my men and I can't express how thankful we are."

"They should be alright," Phoebe answered softly, noticeably restrained under Celia's eagle-like gaze, "a few rounds of those pills and regular cleansing of the wounds, and they'll pull through. There might be some nasty scaring, though, I'm afraid."

"Nothin' we ain't familiar with." He answered simply, and he could practically feel the physical presence of Rosa's gaze on his neck. He shot her a smirk and a wink, and her gaze dropped balefully. He let out a sharp whistle, and the Basterds straightened up. It startled the girl.

"What's wrong?" She asked nervously.

"Well, y'all 'ave been mighty nice to us n' I thought proper introductions were in order. My name is Lt. Aldo Raine. I put together a special team of eight Jewish-American soldiers to infiltrate Nazi occupied France and enact special operations, and these are the Inglourious Basterds." He gestured almost proudly to the rag-tag group that filled the kitchen, finding humor in their lackluster appearance.

Celia snorted, "Well, at least the name's fitting… now get out."

Without further comment, the woman all but dragged her sisters from the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind them.

End of Chapter

R_S: So that was actually much easier to write than anticipated. Still, I'm wracking my brain trying to remember some of the details about the story, so seriously- if anyone has that outline I made, I'd really love it… I'm an idiot for not having saved it elsewhere, I know. I remember a couple of things – like the story about Phoebe's husband and how Celia got her scars, but not as much as I want to.

If you guys have any thoughts, ideas, etc, please let me know! I love reviews, hint hint ;p