Hello everyone! I know that the last chapter was short and this one isn't much longer...but there is a nice surprise in this chapter for you all! Thank you for the reviews! Keep 'um coming!

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own Inglourious Basterds, it belongs to the film genius Mr. Tarantino.

This font = French

This font = German

Chapter 1

Elizabeth's cover was simple; she was to pretend to be the niece of a dairy farmer and a café owner who had come to help both her uncles with their small businesses. Both men were higher ups in the O.S.S. that was based out of London. She knew them as Jean and Pierre de Mar and they knew her as Marie de Mar. She lived at the small farm with Jean and every day they would deliver the milk, cream, and butter to the small café that Pierre pretended to own and run. On the weekends she would stay in Paris and "give her poor Uncle Pierre and extra hand"; in actuality they would go over the information Pierre had gathered and she would transport the information and documents back to Jean for delivery to the O.S.S.

***

"Marie! The sun has already risen, you are going to make us late!" Jean yelled up the stairs of the small farmhouse.

Elizabeth groaned and attempted to bury herself into the soft mattress even further than she already was. She hated getting up early and still hadn't gotten used to it, even after four months.

"Marie! It is Friday! I already have the supplies loaded up. Get a move on! I would like to get to Paris before the war ends." Jean yanked the covers off the bed.

Elizabeth grumbled and threw a pillow at Jean. The older man chuckled as he left the room and shut the door. Jean and Pierre had definitely become mentors to her and they fell into being a "family" quite well.

Elizabeth extracted herself from the bed and stumbled over to the wardrobe. She pulled off her nightgown and pulled on her clothes for the day, which consisted of black work pants and a blue blouse. She pulled her hair back and pulled a black snood over it to keep it out of the way. She then stumbled groggily across the hall to the bathroom and brushed her teeth before proceeding downstairs.

"And she finally graces me with her presence!" Jean said, opening his arms wide.

Elizabeth glared at him and proceeded towards the icebox.

"I'm afraid you will have to eat when we get to Paris, we are late enough as it is," Jean stood and began to make his way toward the back door. "Come my dear we do not have all day." Jean walked outside and made his way to the wagon that was waiting.

A small growl of frustration emitted from Elizabeth's throat as she stalked over to the mudroom and yanked on her sturdy black shoes. She grabbed her hunter green jacket and pulled it on as she stalked down the steps and climbed up next to Jean.

"Not going to talk to me today?" Jean teased.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and crossed her arms glaring at the air in front of her. Jean rolled his eyes and smirked; she was always like this in the mornings, in another hour he wouldn't be able to get her to shut up.

***

Elizabeth was not in a good mood this morning. It didn't help that checkpoints started to appear every few miles as they neared the city. When they came to a checkpoint she was to keep her head down and not look at anyone. Being attractive and being a spy was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand it made it easy to get information out of the soldiers because she could simply smile at them and they would become putty in her hands, on the other hand it sometimes got her unwanted attention from soldiers who could cause trouble.

As they neared the last checkpoint just before they would enter Paris both realized that the soldiers at this one might cause some trouble. Elizabeth and Jean could hear their laughter all the way down the road. Jean and Elizabeth glanced at each other and Elizabeth pulled her jacket closer around her neck and face.

"Halt!" one soldier called out, coming out and standing in the middle of the road.

All the soldiers had become serious the moment the wagon had approached, but they still had mirth in their eyes. Elizabeth let out the small breath she was holding; these soldiers wouldn't be any trouble, all they had been doing was telling jokes or something of the sort.

"May I see your papers?" a deep voice came from her side.

Elizabeth looked up and locked eyes with the soldier that had asked for their identification papers. Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat as she looked into the most intense eyes she had ever seen. They were blue-green and held something else she couldn't quiet place…danger or was it sadness? She took the identification booklets that Jean had poked her with and handed them to the soldier. As the soldier checked over Jean's paperwork she continued to study him. He was tall and had blonde hair that was cut close to his scalp. He looked to be in his late thirties, much older than her mere twenty years. With that conclusion made she faced forward and stared at the outline of Paris far off in the distance.

What Elizabeth had not noticed was for the last several minutes the soldier, Stiglitz, had been studying her. He made sure to glance back at her papers every so often as not to draw attention to the fact that he was watching her stare off at the horizon. Her hair was pulled up into one of the hair nets that were popular just as the war had broken out, but one could easily see that it was dishwater blonde in color. Her eyes were a dark brown. They were wary, sad eyes, but they also had happiness and a fire in them that was hidden just below the surface.

"Stiglitz! Their papers check out?" the other soldier had stopped the conversation he was having with Jean and peered over at the other soldier, Stiglitz.

"Yes, their papers check out," Stiglitz said, clearing his throat and holding the document books up for Elizabeth to take.

She turned and looked at him with those large, brown eyes he was so enraptured with and leaned down lightly to take the document books from him. Their hands brushed slightly and they both felt a slight jolt. They looked at each other and hastily righted themselves, the places were they had brushed hands still tingling.

"Hiel Hitler!" the soldier that had been talking to Jean said in farewell.

"Hiel Hitler." Jean said with slightly less enthusiasm than the soldier had.

Jean flicked the reins and the wagon lurched forward slowly down the road. Elizabeth glanced at the soldier one last time and he nodded slightly at her. In return, she turned up the corner of her mouth in a small smile and her eyes shoe with mischief. Elizabeth knew she would probably never see him again, so it couldn't hurt to flirt. Little did Elizabeth know she would in fact see him again.

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