Disclaimer: it all belongs to Tarantino. Reviews appreciated!

Flames..normally sent to Voldemort, but given the circumstances I'll just send it to Landa. :)

The tunnel was dark. He liked it that way. Spooked the hell out of the Nazis when he sauntered out of there, baseball slung across his shoulder.

They'd given him a name, the Krauts. The Bear Jew. Donny didn't really get it- he didn't see himself as much of a bear, but maybe they said that because he was so hairy. Or maybe it because he was as brutal as one; the more Donny thought about it, the more answers he conjured.

Raine had become Aldo the Apache. He was sure the others had nicknames; by now they knew Wicki, whom they merely dubbed a Traitor, was with them. They were the Bastards, and boy, did they have fun with that name. Not that it was a surprise to Donny- he and Raine had thrown that word around too describe each other quite often.

Lazy Yank bastard.

Shit eatin' redneck bastard, bossing me around like I'm his kid brother, who does he think he is?

Surprised you even bother gettin' up, ya little shit. I'm not your mamma, ya bastard. Wake yer own ass up.

The Bear Jew. Aldo the sounded pretty nice. Like they should be on baseball cards or something. Donny liked it, all right.

What had changed in the past three weeks? Donny hit the bat against the wall and thought for a moment. He and Raine spoke on a daily basis- on where to go, how they should attack, how to lay low and not screw themselves over. There were other conversations, conversations on Boston and Tennessee.

Donny still held fast to his belief that Raine came from a shithole. Raine still called the younger man a water rat- why, he was sure he would never really know. The odd stares and silences when they were bent over maps, when they were cleaning their beloved weapons..it all made Donny feel sick real fast. That sure wasn't what he signed up for when he decided to go off to war.

He didn't mind Raine. Admitting that to himself was strange, made him feel like he was going against something big- natural instinct or something, maybe. He could hear Raine talking now, probably to a German. Donny felt bored, impatient. He hit the bat again a couple of times, hoping to unnerve the guy.

He had been talking to Utivich the night before, been comparing how many scalps they had like little kids compare the sweets they got at Hanukkah. Donny had laughed, kicked his heels in the air. "Kid is taking no prisoners!" he had shouted. "No prisoners, he's hit a home run and more than that, Boston is gonna be on its feet!" Utivich and Wicki had laughed at Donny rolling around like a kid. Stiglitz had watched, bemused, but stayed silent.

When he sat up, cackling stupidly, Raine had passed. Patted him on the shoulder. He had flinched, a small movement that no one noticed but the man who had touched him. The lieutenant had looked down on him, pulled out the snuff box, smirked, and turned away.

"Donny?"

A pause. He turned the baseball bat in his hands. "Yeah?"

"German wants to die for his country. Oblige him!"

An order. Donny rolled his shoulders, cracked his back, before slamming the baseball bat savagely against the cement.

Show time.

Raine was staring at the beaten body, still eating his sandwich. He kicked it gently, rolling it over so it was face-down in the dirt. "Yer an artist, Donny." he complimented, wiping the crumbs from his mustache. "Still gotta practice my carvin' skills, but the boy has this down to an art!" he snorted to Stiglitz.

Donny leaned against a rock, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The attention from Raine was driving him crazy. Bored, he tapped Omar on the head with the bat repeatedly until he swatted Donny away.

"Come here, Donny." Raine called, pulling out a map. "Gotta figure this shit out before more come swarmin' in."

The sergeant took his time standing up, adjusting the stolen medals he wore around his neck and kicking the dirt off his shoes. He could feel Raine's eyes on him, always his eyes on him. He threw the bat on the ground and obliged.

He was beating a tree with the bat. The others were asleep, or about as asleep as they could be in the middle of some random fucking forest in Nazi-occupied France.

Footsteps, always the footsteps. It was Raine. He knew his lieutenant's gait, the sound of his specific steps in the boots. "Why you always gotta follow me, sir?"

A chuckle. "Just watchin' out for my sergeant, Donny. How'd ya like it if a bunch o' Nazis found ya hittin' a tree and killed yer ass? Or worse, took ya as a prisoner o' war?"

He hit the tree one last time, a good crack against the bark as a sort of sign of defiance before setting it down and facing Raine. Donny opened his mouth to speak, to insult Raine or to make a joke, but the lieutenant was already walking away.

Donny thought he had this all figured out. Go and kill Nazis, go home and you're a hero. Keep going to the synagogue with the knowledge you saved your uncle three times removed or something crazy like that.

Yet Raine was making this much more complicated than Donny liked.