AN: So I like to change up Landa's name a lot. I sometimes call him the Colonel, or Hans, or just Landa. Just depends on my mood I suppose. So if it is distracting let me know and I will try to stick to just one name. I sort of feel he has such personality jumps though that it calls for a difference. That may just be me.
He arrived early morning when the light first touched the sky. Landa jerked away from his report that he was over looking for the third time detailing his hunt of the countryside when he heard the loud knock from downstairs. He need not wonder who would call at this hour, only a Nazi would. He stacked his papers neatly on the desk, and then went to receive the guest. He stood from the desk, stretching his legs in the process. He was stiff from sitting and he need not seem over worked otherwise the caller would see him as weak.
The world was very much dog eat dog world, but the Nazi party was worse. There were many opportunists lurking in the shadows just waiting to rank up and become famous. The hangman had done it, actually making his very Colonel seem incompetent so he could rank up. When an opportunity presented itself they would seize it. Many saw him as the same way, but in truth he was nothing more than a realist. He never seized an opportunity where he was gifted something he did not earn from hard work. He earned everything to get to the point where he was in his career by earning it through his hard work. He never made anyone look bad to get what he wanted; he just made sure that he had better qualifications than they did. He bettered himself to get what he wanted, not belittled another to take what they may have worked hard to get.
He finished stretching his legs and exited his study. He noted that Celest's door was wide open, meaning she had already started her day, just as early as he had. She seemed like a woman that was not opposed to sleeping in, but she had spent so much in bed while she was stricken with illness he understood her need to rise early so she could stay out of her bed as long as she could. He turned to the stairs and started to make his way down.
When he made it to the final step leading into the atrium he found Celest already there. She was ordering the servants to bring some coffee into the parlor until the Colonel could be summoned. He was surprised to see her wearing one of the many outfits he had bought her. The weather was still nice, early fall by his guess and she wore a cotton Sunday dress that was flower print, consisting of multiple colors.
Yet he was more surprised at seeing was Major Hellstrom standing there, leering at the her. He had never worked with the man, but he knew of him. The boy showed promise, and here he was now a Major. Hans's instinct had been correct. If he stayed in with the Nazi party the young man would continue to climb in ranks. It would only be a matter of time before he too was a Colonel. Yet he stood there staring at Celest like she was a piece of meat that he was going to try and claim. Hans would not allow that.
The Major at seeing the Colonel snapped to attention, drawing Landa out of his thoughts. He acknowledged the younger man and gave him a curt nod, accepting his salute. Hellstrom then went to stand at rest until the Colonel joined them in the foyer. The Colonel moved forward, commanding attention just by his mere presence. He caught the curious look of Celest as she analyzed them. She was always analyzing him when he communicated with everyone but her. Alone she didn't observe him as much as she did in public.
"Colonel Landa, I come bearing orders," said Hellstrom.
"Then report," the Colonel commanded as he started to lead them into the parlor for the coffee that Celest had ordered for them.
"Your presence is needed in Paris as the head of security," explained the Major.
"I have work that is yet to be finished here," he retorted as he turned and looked at Hellstrom. He was waiting to receive the written orders. The younger man instantly drew the missive from his inside coat pocket and handed it over. Hans looked it over. It was an order straight from the Fuhrer himself. He was no longer to hunt rats in the country, he was to protect those in the city. With the ever darkening threat of the Basterds looming over them, the Fuhrer must think that Hans would be better equipped to find them from the city.
"It says I am not needed for another two weeks, which is good because it will give me time to finish conducting the work I have started here," said Hans as he pocketed the orders.
"You must have had a long journey, let us resume towards the parlor for coffee," suggested Celest with an ever so sweet smile upon her face. He was very proud of her; she hadn't been able to speak any German before he started teaching her. She wasn't the best, but she was smart and had a tongue made for speaking many languages, such as him.
The Colonel caught the longing in Hellstrom's eyes again as he smiled back to Celest. She seemed so oblivious to how beautiful she was, and how much men wanted her. He had seen how some of his men stared at her, but they never approached her because they sensed that he had already claimed her, and in a way he had. He was anticipating how she would react to Hellstrom if he made any advances upon her. The younger man seemed not to notice how Landa stared at her as if she belonged to him. It would be very interesting to observe their interactions, as she perceived him so closely.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
All day she witnessed the side of Hans that made him the imposing figure that he was. He was polite, cheerful, and manipulative. No wonder he seemed so exhausted that he had started using her as a way to escape. Now they were sitting at the dining table eating dinner. The residents of the house retired early, skipping dinner due t to the larger number of soldiers that surrounded the table.
She had wanted to do the same thing, feeling her skin crawl knowing she was so heavily surrounded by soldiers. Hans had asked her to join him, even instructing her to wear green. He had explained briefly that she was loveliest in green. At first she thought about not complying. Going against something so trivial just to show a sign of her rebellion against him would accomplish nothing. It would have served her no good, especially since she had started trying to escalate their friendship into something more.
If he wanted her to wear green because he thought she looked lovely in it, she would do it. She needed to please him. So she sat at his side, wearing a bright lime green dress that made her hair darker in comparison. She hardly ate though, her stomach tight with nerves. She had a smile plastered upon her face to the point her cheeks hurt with the strain. The lack of food in her system added with the amount of wine she was consuming made her feel fuzzy.
Several times she lost track of the conversation. She wasn't exceptional at understanding German, but she understood it enough to carry a conversation when her wits were about her. They weren't about her though. She not only kept drinking her wine she sipped upon the Colonel's when he wasn't paying her attention.
The more he sipped upon his glass the more he gestured with his hands while he spoke. He was far from a man being considered drunk, but she spied that the Major still hadn't touched his wine. The man was very serious, and for some reason she felt like he was observing the Colonel with a closer eye than she was. The Colonel could be compared to a hawk, maybe even a snake in her opinion. The man seated across from them was a wolf. He was sniffing out the prey he wished to track.
That prey was Hans Landa for whatever reason. So she tried to help the Colonel by not allowing him to become drunk in front of Hellstrom. So she sipped his wine, only clouding herself in the process. The few times she was able to capture their speech, she understood they were speaking about politics, once she thought they even spoke about the Basterds. She gave a sour expression during that particular conversation.
The Major noted her expression she saw. Just to further her act she reached for her healed arm and rubbed it as if she were remembering what happened to her. There was no more mention of it though. They spoke of other things, none of which she followed.
After dinner they ended up in the parlor, the men pouring brandy for themselves. The Colonel didn't pour himself one, which she was happy about. She was sure her skin was bright red from the amount of wine she had consumed. He spoke to some of his men while she found herself sitting on the side of the parlor alone with Hellstrom. He finally addressed her since they were alone.
"You do understand who he is, don't you Ms. Martine?"
She looked at him perplexed by his question. She stared at him, her gaze unyielding, seeing nearly into his soul. It was the same look of the Colonel. She witnessed him grow uncomfortable in her presence like she was suffocating him. She couldn't stop herself from the exhilaration that washed over her at the thought of her making a Nazi uncomfortable.
"He is Colonel Hans Landa, I do not understand why you ask me that."
There was a long moment of complete uncomfortable silence. All that could be heard was the men across the room talking.
"I meant do you know what they call him?" he asked.
"Of course I know what they call him, I am not daft," her tone undermined him.
"So the fact that he is the Jew Hunter does not bother you?"
This time it was her turn to become uncomfortable. When he gazed back at her, it was as if he knew her secret. He didn't though, this she knew. He was from the city. There was no possible way he knew. She figured his stare just meant he thought her relationship with the Colonel was more developed and that she should be sickened by his actions. Was that because he was disgusted by the Colonel? She thought not. He too was a Nazi. Maybe it was because she was a woman and he thought all women had a weak constitution? That must be it.
"No it does not trouble me. I know his work is for the greater good of the rest of us. He is a man doing his job, and he does it rather well. I should not fear a man protecting me, as well as others from such a threat."
Her words sickened her. She stood and without giving him a chance to retort she bid him goodnight. She then turned and walked to the Colonel. She waited patiently until he finished speaking. He glanced her way and smiled. She gave him a half smile and bid him a goodnight as well, feigning being tired. She was, from the wine consumption. Mostly now she found herself nauseated and needed to get away from the heavy Nazi stench that tainted the room.
He told her goodnight, bowed politely, and then kissed his cheek before leaving. She realized if the Major held any doubts of her relationship with the Colonel, she just proved her to be his.
Xxxxxx
She was almost asleep when he burst into her room. As soon as she sat up she could smell the brandy on him, even though he was across the room. She had done such a swell job of keeping him sober during dinner and she leaves him for two and he reeks of liquor. She turned on the light next to her bed and he shut the door behind himself. He then turned and leaned against the door and stared at her. His expression unreadable, but didn't stop the fear from creeping down her spine. She hadn't seen him like this before. He was a man who always kept himself so closely in check, and getting drunk seemed so out of character for him.
"Paris…" he whispered.
She pulled herself out of bed and walked towards him with her arms wrapped across her chest. She was wearing a thin nightshift and didn't want him to see more than he had before when he saw her wearing such attire. Maybe his intoxicated stupor scared her into decency she hadn't had with him before.
"What about Paris?" she asked.
"I want you to accompany me to Paris," he stated.
He staggered forward, and the smell of tobacco and brandy was cloying to her senses. He stumbled into her and she backed up a few paces until he regained his footing and stopped pushing his weight against her.
"You are drunk," she whispered instead of answering him.
He shook his head in a fierce denial to her accusation. Yet when his eyes caught the light he squinted to keep from glaring at the harshness of the golden glow of the lamp. She didn't argue, she just gently grabbed his elbow and led him to the chair that he used to religiously sit at by her bed when she was sick. He sat down heavily and when she went to draw away from him he grabbed her hand. They locked eyes and then his concentrated stare was on her. His expression was unreadable and unyielding. She hadn't seen this look from him since the day he had picked her up on the side of the road.
In that moment, he no longer looked drunk, but completely sober. The fine hairs on her neck stood up, but she didn't look away. He suddenly smiled and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. Again he told her he wanted her to go with him to Paris. She stayed quiet though, because he didn't ask her.
"I heard Hellstrom telling you about me, trying to scare you away from me," he suddenly said changing the subject. His tone held distaste, as if he wasn't fond of the Major. Again, he seemed so sober, staring into her eyes as if they were pools to all the information in the world he needed. "I do this thing, I always announce my title to people. I never did it to you. I never gallivanted that I was Hans Landa the Jew Hunter. I wonder if I had would it have changed how we treat one another. Would it have made you resent me and my obnoxious ways for having to tell every soul I come across that I am the Jew Hunter? Everyone who utters my name already knows, and I knew you already knew. From the moment I met you I didn't feel like I needed to truly make you understand that gravity of who I was. You seemed as if you wouldn't have cared. You acted like you didn't know me when I introduced myself in general, I was just any other soldier to you, and I never knew until now that I appreciated it. Then you seemed to understand that my title was not actually who I was, but just my job. I am not an opportunist like most men in this world, I am a realist. I stand behind the winning force, making a place for myself. Only you seem to understand that. You don't walk on eggshells around me, you are actually my friend."
Vulnerable. He at this time was completely vulnerable. Seeing him around others, she knew he was loathsomely self-centered, yet around just her he wasn't. What he had done will always be horrible, the things he has done to help the enemy. Yet she always knew from the moment she met him that he was a man who was just doing his job. And it was a job he did rather well because he was a detective at heart, reminding her of the great detective Sherlock Holmes, just more sinister.
"I need to be waiting for my parents to contact me, I am sure by now they have received my letters and have written back," she said instead.
"No, no mail has been sent unless it is war related," he retorted.
She of course knew that. She still had to look like the woman who had been hurt that was now waiting for her parents to collect her. The past week she had been in his office every day waiting for him just so she could ask if he had received any letters from her parents. She never forgot to keep her pretense of actually being Celest, no matter how close she was becoming with the Jew Hunter. It may just be a title, and a job, but he hunted her people. So she must be careful until she felt like she was sure to hurt his kind before throwing her life away. As of now she was safe as her plan was evolving.
"You never told me," she whispered as she tried not to focus on him massaging her hand gently. She liked how his calloused finger tips glided over the back of her hand. It felt so soothing and his touch was feather light, something she hadn't expected from him.
"I didn't want you to give up your hopes of hearing from them soon, the thought of hearing from them seemed to please you so much," he explained, a slight smile touching his lips. She wasn't sure why he was smiling, but she dismissed it.
"I owe Ada and her husband so much, I am sure they would take care of me if I stayed as long as I took to helping with the house."
"You aren't a servant," he snapped at her matter-of-factly.
"What will people think of me, a respectable single woman traveling in your company?" she saw it in his eyes that he already had an answer to her question.
"That you are under my protection because you were attacked by the Basterds."
His answer would be so simple, just like she knew it would be.
"So everyone who is attacked by them you personally see to their safety and recovery?" she asked. For a moment he looked uncharacteristically stumped by her question.
"No, but I do when the victim is a woman, the only one to ever be attack by the Basterds. It is the same thing I have told my very men when they wonder why I stick so close to you. I can also tell them that you are scared that they will come back for you and finish the job."
"But I am not afraid they will come back," she said.
"I take it you do not want to go to Paris with me," he said flatly. His expression falling into a dull straight lipped look as he turned his head away from her.
"Not if you don't ask. You said you wanted me to go with you, you never asked me if I wanted to go, nor if I would go. So I was thinking of good reasons not to go until you understood that my world doesn't revolve around you. You have taken care of me and have become my friend. But you aren't going to uproot me from my life here just because you wish me to go."
She hadn't thought her speech would cause him to become angry. Yet she could tell by the flicker of his muscle in his cheek as he clenched his teeth, and the way he was now clutching her hand, causing her fingers to go numb. The drunken haze to his eyes had returned, where it had been she wished she knew. He cleared his throat though and let go of her hand. He stood up and smoothed his hands down his pants. He then exhaled loudly and looked her in the eye.
"Celest, do you wish to join me in Paris?" he asked. He swallowed his pride for her. She had put him in his place, she wondered if any other woman had been able to do that to him.
She took a step closer to him, so she could feel his breath on her face. They stared at each other before she grasped both his hands into hers.
"Yes, I do wish to join you in Paris," she said, a smile on her face.
She reached up to him, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. She had been getting him used to her small kisses upon his cheek, but she was growing bolder. The other night she had kissed his brow, and now it was the corner of his mouth. He smiled and laughed.
"So then tomorrow I will leave to look at one more farm, and you should begin to pack your things," he said.
"It sounds like you have an early day then, you should go get some rest," she said as she drew away from him.
He nodded. Before he left though she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. He turned and stared down at her, squinting slightly as if he was having trouble focusing on her.
"I do not want to go as the woman you are caring for because I am some scared sniveling woman you found in the woods," she stated.
"I don't understand, Celest."
"I want to go as the woman you are courting," she demanded. Her heart was racing as she spoke those words. Her skin felt uncomfortably hot and she knew she must be turning seven shades of red, redder than her very hair. This is what she needed though, to move her plan forward. She didn't want to go and always have to be questioned about the Basterds, she didn't remember much of the attack, the shock had repressed the memory she had come to learn.
"No," he said instantly with no thought.
She let go of his sleeve and stared up at him with her brows drawn together in a frown.
"I think you misunderstand our relationship," he tried to explain. She set her jaw and he could tell that she was angry with him. He had a reputation though, and if he was in the city he wanted to maintain his reputation.
"No Hans, I think you have been misunderstanding it. Get out."
She gestured towards the door with her chin. This woman was not afraid of anything he realized. Most women would cower to a drunken man, not her. She had bold words to say to him when he was in the state he was in. He suddenly wanted to know how she would react to an outburst of aggression towards her. He abruptly pushed her harshly into the nearest wall. He was on her in an instant and pinned her to the wall with his hands on either side of her face.
He held her in place with his own body, pressing his weight into her so she couldn't escape him. Most women would be crying at this point, not her. She just hissed in anger and struck out at him. She raked her nails down his face, but it didn't mark him because she couldn't get the momentum too. It hurt though, stinging fiercely. He grabbed at her hands and wrestled with her a moment before he had both her hands pinned above her head.
She panted with exertion, her chest rising against his chest. His scent was dulling her will power. He smelled so masculine to her. It never occurred to her how attracted she was to him, that was until now. Without hesitation she kissed him. This time not on the cheek, nor his forehead, but on his lips, her lips melted fully against his.
He tensed against her but didn't pull away from her. She took it as a sign that he wasn't against kissing her. She moved her head forward, pressing her lips closer to his as she tried to get more of a reaction out of him. Her mouth moved against his, trying to pull anything out of him other than stiff rigidness. At this point she half expected him to pull away and scold her and leave at once. Yet to her pleasant surprise his body softened against hers as well as his mouth. He started to kiss back.
His kiss set fire to her body. How she hated herself for it too. She craved this though, wanted nothing more than to feel his lips upon her skin. His scent filled her nose, she tasted his kiss. She wanted him, and she had for a while despite the horrible things he had done. She wanted the man, not the title. This moment in time she had the man she wanted. He let go of her hands, and cupped both sides of her face.
The kiss was intoxicating. She could taste the brandy on his breath, especially when his mouth moved against hers. He took charge, and she allowed him because she wanted to be possessed by this man. Her hands slid down to his chest where she could feel the slow beat of his heart. It was strange that his heart was beating so steadily beneath her hand, while hers leapt like it was likely to beat a hole through her chest.
She didn't have long to think about how he didn't feel exactly the way she felt because his mouth consumed hers. She felt every inch of him against her. His torso, his hip pressing into her stomach, his thighs clenched tightly near her very center. His breath mingled with hers as he opened his mouth to exhale and line the seam of her lips with his tongue. She gasped at the feeling and he invaded her mouth with his tongue, giving her a taste of him. The brandy burned her lips and mouth and he also tasted like his pipe.
A tingling sensation started in her stomach, and it was suddenly hard for her to breathe. Her chest felt like it was on fire and the tingling in her stomach inched its way down to her the core of her womanhood. She felt herself instantly growing slick between her legs. In response to her body she shoved him away when he least expected her to do so, while his tongue was sliding against hers, the tip dragging across the roof of her mouth.
He stumbled away from her. He caught his balance and then looked to her. She took in a deep breath and steadied herself from his gaze. She did not want to seem as if she was shaking from her body's response to his touch. She cared not if he could see the deep flush that stained her cheeks, or if her nipples showed through the nightshift, standing erect from the friction of where his chest had been against hers.
"Celest-" he began, but she silenced him with a hard look.
"I will not accompany you to Paris, and I think I told you already to get out," she stated as if she hadn't just fully enjoyed kissing him sinfully.
He took a step forward and she held her hand up to point at him.
"You dare not touch me again Colonel Landa, I am not afraid of waking the entire house with a scream for help. I am sure your reputation with women will help my case on why you are in my room in your drunken state."
He stopped and stared at her hard, his eyes again losing that drunken glaze. She could tell by his look that he had not expected this from her. He had expected her to follow along with all his plans like a sick puppy. She was not a puppy though and he was not her master. He may see it as 'how dare she bite the hand who feeds her'. That was not the case; he did a lot for her, nothing she asked for though so she did not owe him nothing more than her gratitude, which she had already showed him.
If she was correct though, he would give in to her demands. She needed him to present her as more than a mere victim. Here in this house everyone understood his affections were for her and she had growing affection for him. It was proven in the long hours they spent reading to one another, or the many afternoons they had taken picnic under a pecan tree. Once one of his men had caught the Colonel napping, using her very lap as a pillow while she played with his hair.
She fully expected him to say that she was his to court in the very public Paris. Yet his answer shocked her more than her kissing him had, which she was still shaken and wanting more of.
"Very well," he said before about facing and exiting her room.