The water dribbled down her forehead, curving against her eyebrow. The thin, cool liquid punctured through the darkness as her eyes slowly fluttered open, unable to take in the view illuminated by the harsh bright light.

She tried to move but she winced. Even a millimetre of movement caused her body to ache, but she felt no pain. She felt woozy and light, her skin sunk firmly against the mattress beneath her. She knew that whatever was coursing through her veins was bad. Whatever opioid that had been pumped into her would make her careless and dull, but in that exact moment, feeling pain-free and relaxed, she could forgive this weakness.

His face came in to view as the sound of water sloshing hit her ears.

The first thing she thought was that he looked like an angel.

She took in his calm and kind face, his hair twirled above his head like an angel's halo, and she had felt a very small smile twitch her lips. His eyes fluttered from his work down to her, and he smiled so sweetly she had felt her heartthrob.

"Bonjour Audrey," he murmured, his hands continue to work on her.

"Salut Oscar," she whispered.

He continued, hands gentle and swift as he moved the cool water across her sore skin.

"Comment Allez Vous?" She asked.

He laughed softly, coming to sit down on the edge of the bed as his body crowded the space. She sat upright on the bed, propped up copious pillows. Her whole world was taken up by Oscar Clément and it filed her with effortless comfort.

"Très Bien," he told her. She kept her eyes trained to his face, the silly smile still pressed to her damaged lip.

He continued to clean her skin, her hair, carefully wiping away the dried blood that the brutal attack had left. His sleeves were pushed up and she let out a soft sigh at each fresh drop of water. He finished and leant over her, his hands pressed to the pillow by her head. She hadn't taken the dreamy expression off of her face, smiling sweetly at him. He had never seen her like that, not even when she had played soft and sweet to shepherd him back into the apartment.

"What?" he asked.

She chuckled, closing her eyes for a moment once more with a soft sigh.

"Don't the sisters usually do this?" She asked, eyes fluttering open once more.

"Oui," he told her, his spare hand coming to softly push the damp baby hair from her forehead. "But I wanted to do it."

"Oscar," she said softly and sweetly, a new smile hitting her lips. "Très kind…"

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked her gently. She nodded weakly, her eyes closing once more as Oscar gently stroked her hair, the broad comforting movement making her melt.

"Do you remember how you got here?" he asked her. She minutely shook her head, her hand seeking his thigh, pressing the heavily bandaged palm to his trousers.

"I'm so happy to see you," she whispered, ignoring the line of questioning.

"I'm happy to see you awake," he answered. He leant down softly and kissed the undamaged corner of her mouth. She let out a gentle laugh once more as he sat back, her fingers pressing against his leg.

She heard the footsteps behind him, but she didn't care. She wanted to stay in the moment for as long as she possibly could. Her whole world narrowed down to just one person. One person who just wanted to take care of her and love her. She knew it was the painkillers talking but at that moment she wanted to ask Oscar to simply pick her up and take her home.

"Bonjour Doctor Clément,' a voice called. Oscar sat back, turning his body to view the voice who had spoken. Audrey glanced up her bed to see a young, blonde Nazi solider. He looked exhausted, watching her with a tired smile.

"Do I know you?" Audrey asked quietly, unable to place his familiar face.

"Oui Mademoiselle, I found you last night," he said. She let out a soft 'ah', noting his perfectly spoken French.

"I didn't catch your name last night Officer," Oscar called. He pleasantly noted to himself that Audrey's hand was still pressed to his leg, the familiarity of her touch made him fill with pride.

"Fredrick Zoller, sir," he said proudly, feet clicking loudly as he stood to full attention.

Oscar's eyes swelled with recognition, surprised that the same flustered young man who had brought the unconscious Audrey to the hospital yesterday was the Fredrick Zoller.

Audrey looked between the two men, unable to place the name despite the fact it snagged a memory. Oscar tensed beneath her grip and she threw a confused look to him, his face still and careful in the face of this new name.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Loewe!"

The voice broke through the tension and she looked up to see Hans Landa languidly walking up to her bed, his face well-rested and amiable.

"Bonjour Colonel Landa," she said coolly. "How are you?"

"Very well Audrey," he said, smiling as his eyes stayed focus on her. "Perhaps we can have a moment alone?"

"Oui," she agreed. Oscar hesitated but stood gradually, his hand coming to softly squeeze her wrist in a movement of comfort.

"I'll get you some ice chips," he said cautiously. She nodded once more.

"Private Zoller, will you assist?" Landa called back, coming to stand by her bed and stare down at her. Zoller nodded and saluted, walking quickly behind the apprehensive Oscar Clément.

"Are you well this morning Audrey?" Landa asked in English as he sat down smoothly in the chair by her bed. A smile twitched her lips, noting his swift switch to a language that she knew for a fact that Oscar could not speak, and could guess that neither did Zoller.

She gestured at the IV Bag dripping steadily into her veins.

"Very well then," Landa chuckled.

"Do you want to know what happened, or do you already know?" She asked flatly.

He chuckled once more, looking over her with keen interest.

"I guess we may as well cut to the chase," he said. 'Where is he?"

"Excuse me?" She said, her eyes narrowing.

"Where is he, Audrey?" Landa repeated slowly.

"How should I know?" she snapped, finding a flair of anger spark across her.

"Did you hurt him?" Landa asked.

"Do I look like I hurt him?"

"It would only be a one, well-placed hit," Landa said slowly, condescendingly.

"He tried to kill me," she bit back, looking furious.

"Well we can't find him," Landa said evenly.

"Well, he's your officer," she growled out. "Seems like your problem Hans."

"Morphine makes you mean Audrey," Landa teased, glancing up at her with a shake of his head.

"What makes me mean," she snarled bitterly. "Is that the last thing I can remember is hiding from your officer, before fainting in front of you at a restaurant. And now you ask me what I did?'

He sighed out, leaning back and lazily raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Do you have no shame?" She asked him, glaring viciously at him from the bed.

"No," he told her honestly, shrugging easily. She looked away and willed calmness back to her face.

"So, Audrey," he said smoothly, acknowledging that now was not the time to tease and taunt her. "What happened?"

She kept her eyes averted as she sighed, eyes drilling against the blanket over her legs.

"I went to pray," she muttered.

"Where?" Landa asked, his tone suddenly unnervingly serious.

"At the Church Saint-Denys-of-the-Sacramen," she answered.

"Why?" he asked, pulling out a notebook from his bag and fiddling with a fountain pen. He lay it all out smoothly on the edge of her bed, the leather binder pressing against her leg. She watched him, noting for the first time since meeting him the hawk-like attributes that he possessed. He was much more the hunter than the bright laughs and smiles, the silly quips and charming comments gave way too. "Continue Miss Loewe."

"Because I was feeling guilty about Oscar," she said, ensuring the right about of bitterness hung in her voice. Landa let a small smile catch his expression before he gestured for her to continue.

"I thought it was you," she said quietly keeping her eyes low. "And I looked up.. it was him."

"Who?" He asked. Her brows furrowed, and he tapped the notepaper below him.

"Sargent Klutch," she said, unable to keep the hate from her tone. He gave a thoughtful frown before gesturing for her to continue speaking.

"He said that he knew who I was, that you didn't," she said. "I assured him you did… he wouldn't listen… he… hit me. Kicked me. Strangled me… I um… got loose, he ran at me, I hit him once with a candlestick… he ran after me. I hid in an abandoned… shop, I think? I waited. I got your card from my bag, and I found Zoller. He brought me to you."

"Why didn't you come to the hospital?" Landa interrupted, blinking innocently.

"Because he would have followed me to the hospital," she said calmly.

"Not home?" He said, the same innocuous expression on his face.

"I once heard a soldier refer to you as 'unquestionable'," she said, ignoring his line of questioning. He paused with his pen for a moment, looking up at her, head tilting ever so slightly. "I hoped that Klutch would feel the same."

"Ah," he said, smiling softly as he continued to jot down notes.

"And, where is he?" He repeated.

"I don't know," she repeated with a small sigh. "I'm sorry."

He paused, examining her face closely for the lie but it didn't come.

"Did you think you were going to die?" He said simply.

"Yes," she said, eyes glassy for a moment.

"Shame," he said with a twitch of a frown.

The footsteps of their companions paused the conversation. She watched Oscar anxiously take in the pair, a cup of ice held in his hand. He walked swiftly, sitting beside the bed, back to Landa as he passed the cup to her, smiling as she tipped it into her mouth. She could see Landa carefully pack away his notes, the cat letting the proverbial mouse go for the time being.

"Shall I drive you home Audrey?" Landa asked in French, his over-familiar tone bristling Oscar.

"I'm going to take care of her," Oscar said firmly, eyes staring down the infamous Nazi officer with such finality that Audrey had been quietly impressed.

"Ah, young love," Landa teased, hand coming to swiftly pat Audrey's uninjured hand, resting above the blankets.

He stood easily, passing his bag to Zoller with a fresh, cheerful smile.

"Adieu Audrey," he said brightly. "Feel better, I'll be in touch."

"Merci," she said calmly.

The two men turned but Audrey called out once more.

"Private Zoller," she said. The young man turned, blinking in surprise that she had spoken to him. "Merci for saving my life."

"Of course, Madmoiselle Loewe," Zoller said, blinking once more in pleasant surprise. "Feel better soon."

"Merci," she repeated with a small smile.

She watched the two men walk away slowly, her hand coming to sit atop Oscar's once more. All she could hope was that the Basterd's had put a bullet in the head of the rabid dog that was Klutch, and that she would never have to utter the name of that monster ever again.

She had stayed in the hospital for four more days, and Oscar had been a constant. He did nothing but take care of her at every moment he had free, checking on her during his shifts, doting on her on his time off. He had taken her home on the eve of the fourth day, gentle with her as he drove her home, guiding her up the stairs, smiling warmly as he helped her take her coat off in the hallway.

When Oscar went to leave she gently pressed her hand to his back. He turned slowly, looking down at her with such concern that she felt her heart melt.

"Stay," she whispered.

Oscar stared at her for a long moment, leaning down to softly kiss her. They stood there, in the hallway, gently kissing each other in the doorway, his hands gently cupping her face, hers pressed to his chest.

"Come inside," she murmured.

"You're black and blue," he whispered, looking hesitant.

"Then be gentle," she murmured back with a teasing laugh, kissing him once again to drown any protests.

Audrey had slept with men before. Strangely, it was one of the few things that made her feel alive, but she hadn't slept with anyone she cared about. Not someone that made her knees weak, made her blush. Oscar made her feel young and soft, sweet and gentle.

His hands ran across her as she took him to her bedroom, softly laughing as they struggled out of their clothes, sighing with relief when they finally lay with one another, his hands strong and reassuring, the movement making her aching skin chill with smooth relief.

She felt a sense of home under his ministrations, her breath gentle, her sighs like singing. She had whispered his name, again and again, feeling tears of joy prick her gaze when she finally came undone beneath him, her hands in his hair, running down his back.

He'd held her afterwards as though she were made to be in his arms, softly and carefully with a tender concern that made the blush run pink across her nose and down her cheeks.

"I'm so relieved you're ok," he whispered against the darkness.

"Thank you," she murmured, her cheek pressed to his chest as he ran smooth strokes against her hair.

She let the darkness embrace her fully, her aching skin feeling calmed against the hands of Oscar Clément, a soft smile touching her lips.

For the first time in four years, she felt home.