Chapter 11: Easy Does It

The door opened and closed, causing Landa to snap out of his dreamless state and tense for action. Keeping his body still, he listened to quiet footfalls, his hand inching toward the pistol beneath his pillow. People did not intrude on him during the rare occasions that he allowed himself to indulge in a full night's sleep, so who was in his room at this godforsaken hour? Dawn had only just arrived, fresh, morning light trickling through the curtains and falling across his bed with lazy tranquility, and his men asleep in their own rooms. And so he warily listened to footsteps and the clinking of glass, which were the only sounds to break the quietness of his chambers this early in the day.

"Vatti!" a soft, urgent voice called. It was only then that Landa turned his head from where he lay on his back, looking at the girl who stood several feet away from his bed with a small tray in her hands. The serving platter was stacked with random, breakfast items, all of which wobbled precariously as the girl struggled to hold it. It was a miracle that she hadn't spilled anything yet.

"Oh, good," the girl pronounced. "You're awake." She then moved forward with her load, her white nightgown brushing across the floor as she walked, and Landa began to rise from beneath his blankets.

"What are you doing, Brigitte?" he asked. Of course, the answer was quite obvious, but he wanted to know the why behind it. Why had his daughter awoken at the crack of dawn to serve him breakfast when there were maids for that? The girl really did try her hardest to please him, and that devotion was rather amazing in and of itself. Such a keen desire to serve another person was a rarity in life, and when it had no double motive, it was even rarer.

"Don't get up!" the girl desperately squeaked, causing Landa to stop moving. "This is breakfast in bed. How can I give you breakfast in bed if you're not in bed?" He laughed, unable to help himself given her honest panic. Well, if she insisted on pampering him, he wouldn't stop her. He hadn't planned to get up for another hour anyway, and how many times did he find a female yelling at him to stay in bed while she fed him? Never.

"Hand me the tray," he told her whilst moving to sit up against the headboard, shirtless and enjoying the stubbornness of his daughter.

"No," she protested. "I can do it myself." If all of his men had half this devotion... "See?" She had set the tray directly on the floor while she pulled a chair to stand beside the bed. Then she moved the tray onto the chair's seat, providing an impromptu table for her father as she grinned. "Del says that you don't eat breakfast, and that's why you never come downstairs to eat with us in the morning. But you should eat breakfast. It's very important for your health. That's what Del says, and she makes the best rolls for breakfast. Don't tell Pierre though. He'll be jealous."

"Danke, my angel," Landa smiled, eyeing the proffered food with some reserve. The toast looked okay, but whoever had peeled the orange had mutilated it, and the eggs were burnt. "I've never had breakfast in bed in my entire life," he told her, finding that the girl was scrambling up onto the bed and over his legs. She flopped down beside him, almost sitting on his lap as she leaned toward his chest with the expectation of a kiss on the forehead. With a chuckle, Landa rewarded her, finding her affection endearing as she snuggled closer to him.

"Didn't your mother ever bring you breakfast?" Brigitte asked.

"No," he answered. "My father always insisted that I be downstairs and dressed for breakfast. I'm fairly certain that he actually timed me."

"That's too bad." Brigitte's head and its soft, blond hair rested against the bare skin of his chest as he lifted one arm, allowing the girl to slip beneath it and lean against him. "I love you, vatti," she told him, giggling afterwards. Such an affectionate creature, and she was all his. It was his smile that made her gush with happiness, and it was his approval and opinion that made her world revolve. It was empowering when he thought about it, but children grew up, and just as he'd stopped looking up to others in such a blind fashion at an early age, so too would this girl.

"Vatti," she whined. "You're not eating." Then again, he'd been nothing like this girl when he'd been her age, even if he remembered wanting approval and recognition very badly. From his mother, such things had meant nothing, and while he'd wanted his father to be proud of him more than anything for many years, his hope had been in vain. And never, ever had he been bubbly and open like this little cherubim nestled against him.

"Your eggs will get cold," Brigitte pouted.

"Don't whine," he told her. "It's most unbecoming, and you ruin your pretty face when you pout like that."

"Okay," she relented, watching as he took a bite of the toast.

"Delicious," he praised her. With another giggle, the girl squirmed and threw arms around his torso, looking up in concern when Landa unexpectedly sucked in his breath. In her enthusiasm, she'd put pressure on a healing bruise that he'd received during a surprise attack yesterday afternoon, and the damage was fresh enough that even a goodnatured squeeze hurt. The damn car that he'd been riding in had nearly been driven off of the road but vigilantes, sending him flying from the backseat while on a supposedly quiet excursion into the countryside. Needless to say, his men hadn't been very reserved when they finally captured the culprits.

"Vatti?" Brigitte asked, concerned. She was half-kneeling, half-laying over his thighs to get a better look at his right side, where a large, dark bruise spread across still tender skin. Her face immediately contorted in worry, and her suddenly frantic movements nearly caused her weight to shift onto Landa's crouch, but he lifted her off of his lap in the knick of time. He didn't need another injury on top of his bruised side, and now he had exactly what he did not want this early in the morning: a hysterical woman.

"You're hurt!" Brigitte was loudly babbling. "Are you okay? Will you be alright? Are you dying?!" She leapt from the bed, bare feet charging toward the door, and her white nighty billowing about her.

"Brigitte," Landa called, trying to calm her.

"Stay there!" she ordered, holding up a hand in a mock imitation of him. "I'm getting help. Just hold on." The door slammed shut, and Landa remained sitting in bed, eating his toast and finding his daughter's concern touching. She really did love him, the naïve, trusting girl. Whatever she was doing now, he was sure that he'd be entertained upon her return.

**************

"Del!" Brigitte called, pounding on the woman's bedroom door. "Del!" What was Brigitte doing up this early? Adelgiese nearly tripped over the child as she exited her bedroom, having rushed out of bed with the concern that something terrible had happened. Now though, standing there in the hallway in a thin, pink robe that Landa had supplied, she did a quick visual check of Brigitte to find that the girl looked well enough except for her agitated state.

"What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling and brushing hair away from the girl's face.

"Vatti is hurt. Come quickly." And the girl grabbed her hand and yanked her down the hallway until they were outside of the master suite, the child barging in unannounced and taking Adelgiese along for the ride. Now standing in Landa's bedroom, the woman's first thought was that she shouldn't be spending any time with Landa dressed in nothing but a sheer robe through which one could see an outline of her underwear if they were paying attention, and the second was sparked by seeing Landa reclining in his bed, completely shirtless. She really shouldn't be in his bedroom, and it then occurred to her that if the man really was injured and died, she was in huge trouble, but Landa's amused face didn't look anything like that of a dieing man.

"Guten Morgen, Del," he greeted with a smile, casually resting in bed. She'd never seen him shirtless before, but there he was, sitting up against the headboard with a sparse trail of light hair around his navel. She also noticed the present but unpronounced muscles that were evident beneath his smooth skin—not that she was looking for such things.

"I brought her to help," Brigitte was explaining. "She always makes me feel better when I'm hurt. Look what happened to him!" The girl was now pointing at the bruise on Landa's side, expecting Adelgiese to do something about it, but the woman only stared, and not at the bruise either. Landa's eyes had found hers, and that deadly, secretive smile of his was making her think of the boy in the shed and their last conversation. She was grateful that he'd come home late last night, when her room was already locked and the house quiet, for she hadn't wanted to look him in the eyes with her newfound knowledge. She'd heard his boots in the hallway as they'd paused at and then passed her bedroom door, making her wonder if he would enter her room without an invitation. It wasn't a farfetched idea given that he was a man who didn't bother respecting other people's privacy when he wanted something.

And why would he rush things when you're not going anywhere?

Adelgiese wanted to called Landa a bastard as she approached his bedside, Brigitte now sitting beside Landa on the mattress and holding his hand.

"You may call Del aunty now," Landa told the girl. "But only around me. To everyone else, she's still Del."

"Is it really okay, Del?" Brigitte asked, frowning and glancing between the woman and her father. Landa looked decidedly annoyed by his daughter's insistence on asking a maid's permission, but Adelgiese stepped in before he said anything about it.

"It's fine, Brigitte," she assured. "We had a long discussion, and he knows that I'm your aunt. We don't have to keep it a secret anymore." That seemed to make the girl happy, but she frowned again as she remembered and insistently pointed at Landa's bruise.

"Will I survive, Nurse Hoffman?" Landa jokingly asked, eyes twinkling.

"My gut instinct is yes," she replied, keeping the conversation light with the girl present. "It looks like it will take a while to heal though. What happened?" Her words were greeted with a subtle smile and Landa beckoning her closer with a single finger.

"How are you going to properly examine my wound from over there?" he teased. "Please. Have a seat." He scooted toward the center of the bed, making room for Adelgiese to sit on the edge of the mattress as he invitingly patted the spot. "Make yourself comfortable." And she had no choice but to slowly advance and sit down where indicated, Landa's leg grazing her hip from beneath the blanket as he lifted his arm so that she could better see his bruise.

"It's ugly," she stated. "You must have had quite an accident."

"An accident, yes," he sarcastically scoffed. Then, with a renewed smile: "Don't be shy, Fraulein. I'm sure that I'm not the first undressed man that you've seen." The subtext to his words was lost on Brigitte as Adelgiese gently touched Landa's side with the tips of her fingers, his skin warm, and his insinuation blatantly ignored.

"Does it hurt?" she asked. "Dumb question, I know. It doesn't feel like you've broken any ribs though." She continued to probe, skin against skin as Landa titled his head against the headboard with closed eyes.

"You know something about medical care?" he asked.

"Not really, but I do know what a broken rib feels like."

"Sharp and painful with each breath," he darkly commented, inhaling as Adelgiese pressed against a tender spot. His eyes snapped open and fixed her with a stare that accused her of having intentionally done that, but she remained passively expressionless as she retracted her hands. Perhaps it had been intentional, for there were at least some freedoms to be had now that she wasn't pretending to be utterly meek and obedient anymore.

"You should put some ice on it," she advised. "You should have done that last night."

"I'll get some," Brigitte enthusiastically offered, wanting to help.

"No," Landa ordered. "Adelgiese will handle it. Why don't you go downstairs and get some toast for her? I'm sure that she's hungry." The girl readily agreed and bounced off the bed, leaving the room as Adelgiese stood. "I know that the bed isn't uncomfortable," Landa stated at his daughter vanished. "So I can only assume that the company is making you move, Fraulein."

"Not at all, sir," she answered. "I am merely tending to your wound. There is an ice bucket in your study, yes?" She disappeared into his bathroom and reappeared with a hand towel. "I'll be right back." He said nothing as she retrieved ice, wrapping some within the thin towel and tying the corners shut. She moved rapidly in her task lest he think that she was snooping about his study, and all the while she thought of his words from the previous day, threatening her should she lie to him again. Telling the complete truth wasn't an option, but he'd already learned so much on his own, and in such a short time.

"Here you are," she announced, reentering his bedroom and sitting on the bed, knowing that to do otherwise would look untoward. She even pressed the cold pack against his side for him. "Keep it there for as long as you can—at least until you need to get up. It will help with the inflammation."

"That's very kind of you," he replied, and Adelgiese kept her eyes fixed on his side as he accepted her offer, his hands brushing against hers as he accepted the task of holding the icepack in place. "I don't suppose that this helpfulness has anything to due with the presence of my daughter."

"Have I ever failed to be helpful, Oberst?" she challenged, crossing her legs. "Even when you didn't know who I was, I did my job well. That won't change just because you've uncovered my family and past. I plan to keep this job so long as you'll have me."

"But you do admit that you're here because of the girl," Landa probed, his voice drawing her eyes back to his face. "Would you kindly pass me a cigarette? I'm an invalid, after all." Adelgiese quietly obeyed and found a pack in his dresser, the man lighting up right there in bed, and his lips expertly blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. Men of his confidence could make such a simple gesture appear almost regal.

"Brigitte is my niece," Adelgiese reminded him, wondering if he had moved closer to her when she wasn't looking, for sitting on the bed yet again, his leg was now pressed directly against her lower back. "I was uncomfortable leaving her in the care of someone that I'd only heard rumors about, and I still don't know you, Herr Oberst. I might not have come here at all if I'd been able to support the girl myself, so you are correct. I don't deny it. I'm here only for her and...and myself. What else am I going to do? Sit in Berlin and let a man like Goering stare at my ass every time I bend over? You're as good an employer as anyone." It felt good to say something that was completely honest, and the results made Landa chuckle.

"I prefer you being forward, my dear," he told her. "It's far more amusing than that quiet maid who tried to keep to herself. But." He bit the word off, now watching her with those intense, chocolate eyes again. Couldn't the man give her a single break? She'd hoped that bluntness would temper his curiosity. "You are not in political agreement with what I do, are you Del? Don't look surprised, Fraulein. You were nonplussed by seeing men shot, and for that I commend you, but you were hardly in agreement with my actions."

"And I suppose that women often look pleased to watch men have their brains blown out," Adelgiese sarcastically replied.

"No, but you know exactly what I'm talking about," Landa sternly retorted.

"I stabbed a man," Adelgiese argued.

"You killed him in self-defense—for my daughter, for yourself, whichever. Sacrifice and self-preservation get blurred under such circumstances." He waved his cigarette in the air, smoking it forgotten as he focused solely on her. "The point, my beautiful lady, is that you feed Zissel just enough information to keep his confidence, and everything else that you've done can be linked to either my daughter or self-defense. Don't insult my intelligence by claiming that anything you've done has proven your loyalties." He sounded slightly annoyed with her now, and Adelgiese merely met his gaze, reaching out and taking his cigarette with a single, graceful movement of her wrist. With a quick flick of ash, she had set the confiscated cigarette in her mouth and proceeded to take a long drag from it, blowing the smoke in Landa's direction as his gaze drifted over her lips.

"I mean you no harm, Oberst," she spoke, inwardly nervous given the boldness of her gesture, but it had worked; she seemed to have him mesmerized. "I'm certainly not going to slip something into your coffee, and rest assured, if the staff is planning anything, you'll be the first to know. I won't gamble with my life or Brigitte's, and believe it or not, sir, you mean the world to that girl. I won't see you shot in front of her when she's already lost her mother." She closed her eyes, enjoying the taste of the cigarette, which she'd denied herself for so many years. One slow drag after another. It actually helped calm her in this man's presence.

"Some people make smoking look like an art form," Landa said, slow and measured. "Right now, you look stunning enough to belong to the Louvre that you so love, Fraulein. I wonder what other surprises do you hold." Adelgiese opened her eyes when the weight distribution on the mattress shifted, and suddenly Landa was sitting right beside her, the man reclaiming his cigarette and placing it back into his mouth as he drew closer to her. He even placed one of his arms directly behind her back, his palm pressed to the mattress and his fingers splaying cross it near her spine. She could feel his fingertips gently grazing the silk of her robe, and she wondered if her outfit was still tied tightly or if the front had loosened and now drooped to expose any part of her chest. She wasn't even risking a glance downward to find out.

"I want the truth," he quietly told her. "And I always find out what I want to know in the end, Fraulein—much to the detriment of people who try to hide things from me. It's an instinct really; I have this fantastic ability to tell when other people are lying. Perhaps you'd like to save yourself some trouble and tell me about that scar on your shoulder."

He made telling the truth sound so simple and pleasant, his eyebrows raised in anticipation as he sat beside her like some old friend.

"Everyone has secrets, Oberst," she told him, suddenly defensive and angry enough at his unwanted intrusions to think about slapping him. "And incase you don't know, Herr Oberst, my father spent his entire life trying to control me—to make me do exactly what he wanted. He learned the hard way that I don't just bow to bullying, and I might be a maid now, but I still have some pride, sir, and I demand my privacy when the matter doesn't endanger anyone." Landa's eyes darkened, his face stern and threatening as his presence seemed to grow and envelop her. Adelgiese didn't even notice that the bedroom door had opened until she caught sight of Brigitte.

"But of course," Landa suddenly shrugged with a beaming smile. "I've been most inappropriate in pressing you on what is obviously a sensitive topic. It must be this informality that we've decided to share." He laughed the tension off like it was some sort of mistake, and Adelgiese found herself feeling more in peril than ever before. "You know, I think that I've done us both a favor by locating your family," he continued. "Imagine how boring our relationship would be if I'd never said anything. You'd still be demurely going about your business, and we'd never have such lovely conversation to enliven the morning."

"Vatti," Brigitte said, walking closer. "I have the toast. Here you go, aunty." Adelgiese accepted the food and mechanically ate as Landa stood with the icepack still pressed to his side. Brigitte was smiling up at him, and when he smiled back, it looked much more genuine than any smile that Adelgiese had ever seen on the man's face. And Brigitte...she just adored him, wanting to be with her father whenever possible.

"Did aunty give you the special cure?" Brigitte asked, nearly making Adelgiese choke on her toast. Please, in the name of the everything good and holy, don't let the girl explain what the special cure was. Adelgiese found herself irrationally concentrating on eating her toast as Landa's eyes shifted to her.

"No," he mused. "What's the special cure?"

"A healing kiss!" Brigitte happily explained, arms thrown wide for emphasis. "Del says that a kiss makes everything better."

Shoot me.

"Really?" Landa was facing her now, and Adelgiese reluctantly looked up at him, noting his amused and borderline predatory expression as he removed the icepack from his bruise. "Would my nurse be opposed to giving her patient the special treatment?" Brigitte was giggling as Landa moved to stand directly before a sitting Adelgiese, his right arm rising to expose his side as he dared her to decline his request. Without even looking at him, she bent the short distance to his lower side, her lips pressing against his damaged skin, and then she was standing, avoiding looking at the triumphant and mocking grin that she was sure he wore.

"Danke," he spoke, lifting her hand to his lips, and then, switching to English so that Brigitte wouldn't understand: "But you'll have to be a bit more persuasive. I am a man who listens to reason, after all." Adelgiese's anger flared at the brazen suggestion, and her face must have betrayed her sudden emotions, for he held up a cautionary hand. "You misunderstand me," he promised, tone dropping to a more serious level. "Prove Zissel's faith in you correct and give me something useful, Fraulein."

"No fair," Brigitte complained. "I don't know what you're saying." The girl was holding onto Landa's leg, tugging on his cotton pants to get his attention. "Vatti, you didn't eat your eggs." Adelgiese and Landa both looked at the burnt mass, and she couldn't help herself. His stern face was too much, as was the thought of this intimidating man being cajoled into eating poorly made eggs by a mere shoot of a girl. She laughed, the rich sound tainted by vindictiveness, but it was a laugh all the same, and Landa's cold eyes quickly turned on her.

"I'm sure he'll eat them, Brigitte," she assured the girl, completely ignoring the colonel. "He wouldn't want to hurt your feelings." She gave the girl a hug and then moved to depart, wondering if she couldn't take one more vengeful shot at the colonel for threatening her. "Enjoy your breakfast, sir," she said as pleasantly as possible, spinning at the door to send him an infuriating wink before leaving. Let him be left cut off and dismissed for once.

Dangerous, her mind whispered.

No shit.

She wondered when her mental language had become so vulgar, but it was probably from constantly hearing Marlene swear beneath her breath, and the officers here were no better. Dwelling on something so insignificant kept her from thinking about the more severe matters confronting her anyway, but even then, darkness lurked behind her smiling face. She could again picture Landa callously ordering the execution of his enemies, the resulting blood running down a drain to be forgotten, and she suddenly wished to witness that scene again, if only to remind her that this more domestic setting hid a brutally efficient part of her employer. He could be much crueler than seeing him lounging in bed suggested, and if she couldn't remember that when she did something like winking, she might endanger herself.

"He smiled when he ordered a family's death," she reminded herself, mentally repeating a report of said event that she'd heard on the street just yesterday. "He even shot the girl himself, and after they'd almost made it to freedom." The Jew Hunter. He would have marked that family in his little, black book by now. Adelgiese was determined that her name not be added to that book.


Thanks for the reviews, and as someone pointed out, the chapters spell the story's title. I'd just like to assure everyone that the story does not end once the title letters have all been used. I couldn't possibly wrap the story up so quickly. There's a lot more that's going to happen plot and character wise before the end, which I'm still thinking about. : )