Disclaimer: All characters and themes are the product of Quentin Tarantino's genius. Any others not native to the film are my own creations that are not set out to improve upon or change an already stunning production. I only intend to quench my need for an extended version of the character's lives. The basterds originally come to France in the spring of 1944. I have brought them a little earlier. The original film remains truthful.

This chapter was a little delayed because of a serious case of writers block. However, I am determined to finish!

17th September 1942

Annabelle sat by the flaking window looking out over a ghostly part of Paris, empty of any living being. She could see from her high spot, the sunrise that burned orange and yellow as the sun uncurled its fingers over the desolate cityscape. The light shimmered over the silken dressing gown she had found in the cupboard, a fine item for a lady of her breeding although a lady is not what she was anymore. The silence was only broken by that of the Basterds snoring away in soft purrs and sometimes as loud as a hog. She crept down the groaning stairs as quietly as they would allow and into the living room where Aldo sat admiring the same view from a level below. Annabelle kicked her feet so he expected her approach; he turned his head slowly, a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth.

"Ah you are awake! Them boys won't wake for nothing, not even Nazis." Aldo said loudly. "Now sit your ass down here and talk to me about why a girl like you has found herself in the war."

She looks at Aldo apprehensively coming no closer than two meters. He impatiently slaps the window seat which coughs out dust as he does so. Annabelle slowly and silently edges towards him, sinking into the mouldy cushion. He stares out of the window only ever shifting his eyes towards her, never moving his head.

"Now, enlighten me."

"Sir, I really don't think this is necessary. After all, everyone is angry about the war."

"Look Moore, if you're gonna be on my team I need to know about you. I'm not about to play Chinese whispers with the news papers. Tell me." His voice was rough like a cat's tongue.

After a pause and a nervous flex of her hands Annabelle knew she was obliged to tell Aldo her reasoning for the Iron Maiden and really, she wanted to tell him everything.

"I was born in London, England in a beautiful place called Richmond. My Father was Lord Charles Moore, my Mother Emily and my Brother George. We had a house in Brittany, France where we stayed when my Father was corresponding with officials in Paris. I wasn't really sure what his occupation was but all I know was that he was some sort of political figure. He had come back from a long trip in Paris. I always missed him because he never really had time for us as much as he wanted to. We had a small party for his arrival before I went to bed and my Father loved it. My mother stayed up with my little brother who was too excited to sleep, my Father in bed, resting from his long journey. It must have been mid night when they came. There were four. They shot my mother and my brother, dragged my poor father down the stairs and shot him too."

She winced as she described the event for the first time since she had been in Japan. Aldo still kept his eyes on the window. The sun had now shrunk in size and turned white, illuminating their desolate setting in full. Annabelle knew what the next question would be and she juggled between truth and lies for the answer.

"and how did you get away?" bingo.

"I looked over the banister and saw them all dead. So I ran. None of them saw me. I just ran."

She had held back at the last moment. How could she possibly tell Aldo the full story? She feared saying it aloud would send her hurtling back into the mess that she was when she found herself under the wing of Hayato.

"I made my way to mount Haguro by stowing away on trains and ships. That is where an old family friend and Samurai, Hayato trained me so I would have the tools to seek revenge."

Aldo watched her tell her tragic story from the corner of his eye. He wanted to touch her so badly, hold her, comfort her like he would his own daughter but he wad never any good at that to begin with. Aldo hates that Annabelle brings out his paternal side as during the war, he has taught himself to disconnect the Father and husband from the soldier. He feels the two merging together again which feels good but terrible all at the same time. At forty, Aldo has learned that being one person is impossible. Everyone has multiple sides to them in different situations and the greatest test is when those situations cross over. Annabelle needs Aldo to tell her everything is going to be okay as she longs for the unconditional bond her and her father never had, but both Aldo and Annabelle are too proud to take any action.

"Go and wake my boys Belle. This I'm pretty sure will be your biggest challenge." He smiles at her then strides off into the kitchen, tearing off a large chunk of bread left over from the night before, throwing it from hand to hand.

Annabelle kicked each of the Basterds in the ribs shouting "up! Aldo wants you." When all she was met with was a groan or alternatively a sharp burst of obscenity she kicked them again, the force of the kick differing from each reaction to her unwelcome wake up call. The little piece of popularity she had gained from the luxuries she gifted to them was slowly eroding as the Basterds trudged down the stairs.

"Look alive boys. We are off to the Boulogne forest today. The men up top have given me the orders to hunt a pack of Nazis on the look out for Jews hiding there. Getcha stuff we're leaving now."

With a loud "yes sir!" the Basterds and Annabelle ran like school children to gather their things for the exciting new journey. It would be Annabelle's first time seeing the Basterds at work and she was relishing the thought. Throwing off the silk gown, she pulled on her denim trousers of a muddy green and then slipped the white vest over her shoulders, rolling it over her black lace bra - one of the few items she still had from home. Annabelle fixed a belt across her body, filling it with grenades and iron swastikas, then attached her sword to another belt straddling her hips. She placed a serrated knife in her laced pirate boot and three others in more carefully concealed places and lastly she slid her arms into her thigh length pea coat, the black material nipping in at her waist. She viewed the George cross that she had sewn onto the back of her jacket in the mirror. The red of the cross had darkened to a dusty mauve and the white was more of a gray now but despite this it shone through with the spirit of the English giving her hope.

They had been walking through a wasteland of rubble for hours which had tenderised their feet and exhausted their knees. Getting to the forest, the soft mulchy forest, felt like they were walking on feathers, their calves pushing through air instead of water. Aldo walked ahead of the group with Wicki and Stiglitz who looked as if they were strategising, something Donny should have been doing as second in command but Aldo had come to accept that Donny could sometimes be more of a hindrance when the mood took him so let him walk at the back with Utivich Omar, and Hirschberg. Annabelle walked in the middle, far away enough to not have to engage in conversation but close enough to hear what she needed to. The four behind her lowered their voices to a suspicious whisper, giggling and scoffing at regular intervals. She tensed feeling hot and paranoid as she increased her speed. Donny noticed this extra jolt of power that seemed to make her so rigid as she powered up the heavily increasing slope; wondering why she was so tense. However, the thought soon left his head as he continued making fun of the girls at home and the way they pined over soldiers. The sound of their chattering made Annabelle sweat. She was convinced they were talking about her, watching her, laughing at her stiffness and cold persona. She couldn't help the way she was and the person she had become. Her blood was flying round her body at lightning speed, her patience about to snap. Annabelle twisted round abruptly, the three halting fast, staring at her angry little frame. She was parallel with Donny so looked into his face, black eyes burning and pointed.

"Why don't you be quiet you insolent wretch? Just because you are the "Bear Jew", it does not make you superior to anyone you hear?"

"Hey Belle calm down huh?" Omar said nervously.

"And you" She turned to him "are just a wing man, a silly boy, a sheep!"

Aldo, Stiglitz and Wicki had stopped, turning to face the commotion

"Shut the fuck up, there's snipers that'll hear us!" Aldo shouted disguised as a whisper.

"you two are just as dimwitted as the rest" She carried on to Hirschberg and Utivich

Aldo marched down the hill towards her whilst the others stood in shock. He pulled her by the scruff of the neck and slammed her body against a tree, his left arm pressed along her collar bones and his right hand holding her face tightly so she could not avoid his gaze.

"now I don't know what the fuck any of this is about but it's gonna stop ya hear or you'll get what's coming to ya. We got a lot more to worry about than stupid fights."

He holds her there in silence for a moment, his eyes boring into hers like a master would to a naughty pup, her breath slowing by the second.

"yes sir." She whispered.

"Psycho bitch." Donny muttered loud enough for her to hear, quiet enough for Aldo not to.

Aldo released her and she escapes to the front of the group setting the pace for a fast walk. If they had not have been talking about her before, she knew they would be now. Aldo's face could only be described as mildly vexed and for those who looked closely, a little melancholy. There was something else she had not told him about her experiences. Something terrible; but the fortress she had built around herself was like Rapunzel's tower. There were no doors or entrances, stairs or instructions; Just one window that she kept closed, never letting down her hair to anyone.