oberst landa

Sins of The Father @Oberst-Landa

Much time had passed, it was almost mind numbing to think of it. Could this really of happened, could it? The air was chilled around him, or maybe that was just the feeling of waking up after being frozen for fifty plus years. His name, he had to remember…Landa, yes that was it he was the son of a Landa. William Aldrich Landa, why his name escaped him was beyond his thoughts. 

“V-Vater,” Aldrich stammered, looking around him, but there was no one there. 

He pressed his hands to his nazi tunic, smoothing his hands over it. The thick wool fabric was the only thing keeping him warm, the leather gloves on his hands were only doing so much to help bare away the cold. Was he still in Germany? This looked like the same building he went in for cryo freezing, similar to his father, and similar to his brothers…but where were his brothers and…where was his mother?

“Mutter?” Aldrich crossed his arms across his chest, looking at all the lifeless faces of the men and women in the cyro chambers. 

His worked, his kept him alive, they were all dead, why was he alive? Still this did not explain where his family was. He needed to find his father, he would know what was going on. Aldrich moved past all the cold, oxygen deprived faces, cringing as he saw them. He found a door, and at the side of the door was a list of procedures. It was in German, Aldrich brushed his hand over the icy surface trying to read the inscription inscribed into the metal. 

Attention all HYDRA operatives, this cryo facially is…’

The rest of it was unreadable from years of rust and layers of uncrackable ice. HYDRA, Aldrich vaguely knew of that, he heard of it. He had found a way to slip through into their facility so he participate in his father’s experiment despite his wishes for him not to, he even managed to get his brothers and mother into it. 

“I f-found you vater!” Aldrich said elatedly to himself. 

He rattled the door open, kicking it in, breaking in its icy hinges. The door gave a resonant groan of protest and so did the metal floors as Aldrich bounded down, looking for any living soul that could direct him to his father. He was bound and determined to find him, it was all he cared about at this moment. Aldrich made his way outside where he saw in the distance a lit compound. He took in a deep breath, he hoped that it was a HYDRA building, anything that would bring him closer to Hans.

Aldrich ran down the street, his long billowing trench coat blowing behind him. He held it closer to him, trying to keep it steady as he ran. Aldrich made it to a door, at the lower bottom corner of the door, the distinct HYDRA symbol could be seen. He released a breath of relief, smirking wildly as he pounded on the door. 

Modern-day AU - Cheryl/Hans (@oberst-landa)

Cheryl watched the building across the street through a pair of binoculars, trying to catch the security code that needed to be entered in order to gain entree into the top-secret facility.  

It had been a few months since whatever power that had thrown her into the past had snatched her back again.  She’d been unhappy since being torn from 1942 Berlin, from her happy life with Hans Landa.  She’d even moved to Berlin the previous month, taking a job as an English teacher, in order to be closer to where they’d been happy.  She’d never doubted that Hans was long dead.  But then…

She’d heard a rumor of German soldiers who had been cryofrozen after the war.  Who had recently been thawed out and were now working for HYDRA.  A friend at SHIELD had provided her with a possible location for HYDRA’s headquarters and now she was here.

Now sure of the combination, she hurried across the street and entered the sequence of numbers.  The door swung open and a soldier stood at attention, eyeing her with distrust.

“I’m here to see Col. Landa,” she said.

Putting Out the Fire With Kerosene: Part Eleven

Hans Landa// Inglourious Basterds


Part One—-Part Two—-Part Three—-Part Four——Part Five——Part Six——-Part Seven——Part Eight——-Part Nine——Part Ten——Part Eleven——Part Twelve——Part Thirteen—-Part Fourteen(The Final Chapter)

Warning: Smut, and mature themes

Catherine’s father jumped out of the town car, finding himself infront of a bar. He looked over his shoulder at Tomas, unsure if they were in the right place.

“Just go in through the back, they’ll be waiting for us,” Called out Tomas from inside the car.

“Well aren’t you coming in?”

“I um, have things I need to get done first, tell them I’ll be in soon.” Tomas was hesitant, he seemed to be preoccupied with something. Benedict took in a sharp breath waving Tomas off.

“See you later then.”

Benedict took the back entrance of the bar, walking cautiously inside. He held his pistol tightly in his coat pocket, he had tossed his military uniform out by the back as to avoid being picked out in a crowd. His cobalt eyes peered into the main room of the bar, his grip growing even tighter. A hand landed on his shoulder making him flinch.

“You’re getting jumpy old boy,” said a Scotsman, “Where’s Tomas?“

The Scotsman was a tall man, much taller than Benedict; he had rich thick amber hair and a full beard. He looked as if he could take a slue of men in a fight and still come back for more punches. His noes looked as if it had been broken one to many times and his green eyes seemed ti have taken a similar toll. Benedict released his grip on his pistol at the sight of a familiar face almost letting a smile escape onto his lips.

"Oh he’ll be here in a minute, he had to run to get a few things situated,” Benedict replied, “So where is the bloody German?“

Benedict looked over the bar but he could not pick out anyone in particular, in fact he didn’t even know the name of the man they were meeting let alone what he looked like. The Scotsman let out a haughty laugh a wide but wavering smile on his lips at Benedict.

"Oh always about priority, he’s over there.” The Scotsman jutted a finger in the German’s direction, pointing at a very tall lanky man.

“How can we trust him Colin?” Benedict took one look at the German and did not like the idea of collaborating with him. He had the look of a man, in Benedict’s opinion who could not be trusted; everything about him shot up red flags in his mind.

“Look he’s been in our contact for a while now, we can trust him."Colin gave Benedict a firm slap on his back smiling weakly, gesturing forward to their table.

Colin’s explanation was little help to Benedict, there was still that fear eating at him that he just couldn’t shake, no matter what Colin or the German could say would ever change.

"Herr Graham, its been quite some time,” Said the German, standing up to shake Colin’s hand, “And who might you be sir?“

"Benedict Albrecan,” he replied stiffly shaking the German’s hand, “I’m afriad I don’t know your name sir.“

"Oh forgive me, I am Mathias Brandt.” Mathias smiled pleasantly, sitting back down.

“Tomas will be here shortly Benedict informed me he had a couple of arrands to do,” explained Colin as Mathias began to look around.

“Ah well should we begin or would you rather we wait?”

“We should just get started” Benedict chimed.

“Alright, Mathias here has been telling me that he could find a way to move your daughter to Spain, I thought you’d appreciate that.”

“How? There is absolutely no movement out of France now?” Benedict felt even more on edge now, his thoughts gravitated back to his daughter, he wanted to get up and run back to her, he wanted that more than anything.

“With my help you can get her out of France,” chimed in Mathias, “If I may what is her name?“

"Catherine Elliot Albrecan,” replied Benedict rubbing his face with his hands.

“What is her age, and can she speak any other language than English?”

Benedict looked up from his hands, a bit stand-offish from Mathias’ questions. Colin patted him lightly on the shoulder trying to be a bit of support.

“Why, what does that have to do with anything?” Asked Benedict his voice moving close to a growl.

“I need to know this much to help you Benedict,” said Mathias.

“She’s twenty four and she speaks German,” said Benedict in reply.

In the midst of the conversation Tomas came walking in, his brown hair was ruffled and he had a dark blackening bruise forming on his jaw. Colin gave him a worried glance standing up, Mathias stopped talking for a moment looking up at Tomas.

“Bloody hell what happened to you Tomas?” Asked Benedict getting up from his chair as well.

“Fucking German patrol.” Tomas glanced at Mathias, “No offence to you.“ Mathias smiled waving off what Tomas said, he placed his elbows on the table resting his head on his folded hands.

"Tell me, do you know the names of the men who attacked you?” Asked Mathias.

“Nah, I was a little busy trying not to get shot,” growled Tomas sitting down. Mathias looked at him with a raised brow, not too convinced by him.

“Ah well good to see they did not take you away, although how strange that you got away so easily.” Mathias could see how uneasy Tomas was and from his perspective his little story didn’t add up.

“Germans aren’t known to be so sloppy as to let someone slip through their fingers so easily,” Mathias unfolded his hands staring intently at the battered man infront of him.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Growled Tomas, gritting his teeth slightly.

“Oh but of course sir I am.” Mathias waited to see what Tomas would do. Tomas gave a worried glance at Benedict and Colin, his hand moving into his coat.

“I might as well finish this eh?” Tomas pulled a revolver from his coat throwing a shot at Mathias, the German anticipated the shot and ducked down under the table the bullet missing by inches.

Benedict jumped to wrestle the gun from Tomas causing another shot to fire from the pistol. The bullet flew right from the barrel into his chest causing his breath to stop in his throat. Benedict fell back clutching his chest falling back on to the ground with a firm smack, blood pooling underneath him.

“You bloody traitor!” Growled Colin, tackling Tomas to the ground.

Tomas struggled to get his pistol, firing blind shots at Colin. The burly Scotsman at last grabbed hold of the pistol but at the same time Tomas finally got a proper grip on the trigger. He closed his eyes firing the pistol ahead of him sending the bullet clean through Colin’s forehead. Tomas leaned his head back on the floor trying his hardest to catch his breath. Mathias stood up from the table looking down at Tomas, who was still pinned down by Colin’s corpse.

Mathias pulled his Lugar pistol from his coat pointing down at Tomas. He had absolutly no hint of hesitation on his face, on the contrary he seemed calm as ever. Tomas felt fear take over him as he looked up at the German.

“It seems we indeed had a snake in our midst, and how interesting it wasn’t the German who turned out to be the traitor,” teased Mathias knowing fully well that Benedict was on the ends about his part.

“Look don’t kill me, I was pressured into this, they told me if I didn’t kill them they would-” Mathias cut Tomas off.

“Tsk, tsk, you know as well as I do that wasn’t the case,” Mathias cocked the safety, “Auf Wiedersehen Herr Richards"

Blood splattered up at Mathias, who didn’t bat an eye at it. He let out a single sigh, replacing his Lugar in his coat. Mathias rubbed the blood from his face and sleeve walking out the front of the bar. He looked over his shoulder at the three bodies lying in pools of their own blood, though he didn’t show it he felt much sympathy for Benedict knowing now his daughter truly was left alone. Mathias stopped for a moment taking a step back into the bar. He walked back to Benedict’s body kneeling down by him. With careful fingers he moved into his coat till he found his wallet, inside were a few french and English bills, and a few stray bits of papers. Mathias continued to leaf thought the wallet till a single picture fell out of the wallet. It was a worn but you could still make out the image. There staring back at him from the photograph was a young woman with choppy black hair and striking eyes, this was no doubt Catherine.

Mathias stood up placing the wallet at photograph back in Benedict’s hand, he muttered a brief goodbye before finally leaving the bar, there was little he could do now.


Catherine woke up in a cold sweat, her entire body shaking harshly. She could hardly steady herself her breathing was so erratic. Her knuckles pressed white to the bone as she griped the sheets tightly. This dream felt so real so vivid, tears began to stream down her cheeks as Catherine began to hyperventilate. She wanted nothing more than to scream, to let out all the pain her trails had caused her in one animistic burst. Catherine buried face in her knees which she pressed into her chest, simply wanting to hide from the world.

There was a dull knock on the door, pulling Catherine from her thoughts. There stood Hans in the middle of the doorway, leaning back with his arms crossed against his chest, a sly smirk pressed on his lips. Like always he was clean cut, uniform perfectly in line and straight, the picture perfect image of charm and eloquence. Hans moved from the door uncrossing his arms, walking over to her.

“Shall we?” He gestured towards the study, awaiting her to come and follow him.

Catherine looked up from her knees, though she still held them tightly. She could feel her heart begin to race again as Hans crossed her eyes, her mind reliving every moment of her confession to him. ‘Thank god he didn’t hear me,’ she mumbled to herself as the memory laid fresh in her mind.

Hans moved closer to her pressing his lips to her ear, “I wouldn’t take too long now mein liebe, considering where you are I might have other ideas in mind.“

Catherine’s eyes widened slightly, a rush of red blush filled her cheeks, a reaction even she didn’t anticipate. She moved her legs from her chest slowly getting up from the bed. Hans chuckled lowly moving away from her; he grinned even wider as he noticed the bright red color on her cheeks.

Hans guided Catherine to the study once more, he closed the door behind them as Catherine took a seat at the desk. She looked up at Hans, who seemed to be keenly determined as of that moment. He bounced on his heels as if he were almost excited about something, though his face did not convey such feeling.

"Oh I have found out a few things about you in my short time away mein liebe,” he said a grin pressing into his face.

Catherine gave him a skeptical look, raising her brow, but she thought it best to play along.

“What have you found out?” Catherine could hardly believe he found anything of real use to him, she had mad damn sure all her bases were covered. There was little to no chance anything had slipped through.

“In fact what I know might be something you don’t even know yourself mein schatz.”

“And what might that be?” Catherine was still in a great deal of disbelief but then again she knew better than to take much for granted when dealing with Hans.

“The facts of your father’s death,” said Hans.

Catherine refused to believe he knew anything about her father’s death, she gritted her teeth jutting a finger at Hans giving his a sharp warning glare taking a step forward.

“You. Don’t. Know. Anything!” She growled. Hans took a step forward his grin practically plastered on his face.

“Oh but I do schatz, why would I lie to you?”

“You want to toy with m-me!” Her voice wavered slightly but it still held the same ferocity as before.

Catherine pushed Hans back by his shoulders, feeling anger boil up inside her. He was pushing far too hard and she would not be dominated so easily. She shot him an icy glare, her cobalt eyes staring daggers at Hans. Hans chuckled lightly, a sly grin danced on his lips. He took one stride forward cornering Catherine to a wall, blocking her way of escape. His breathing grew faster, his chest filling rapidly with air. The two played back and forth at this though Catherine hadn’t managed to gain the upper hand. She raised her hand to push him back again but he caught her wrist, ramming her against the wall once more. He released her wrists, his hands smoothing down to her waist. Hans gave Catherine a mischievous grin, chuckling lightly as his breathing quickened.

Hans held Catherine up hard against the wall, papers flying astray. She grasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging deep in his tunic. He held his hands on her hips, pulling her legs around his waist. His heart pounded in his chest, feeling heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. Her anger slipped right through her fingers, fading away as her mind grew numb.

Catherine felt the air escape her lungs, her heart pounding, mixing with the sound of Hans’ heart beat. Catherine could feel that impulse own her again, that carnal desire burning welling within her. That same feeling that had been taking over her all the nights before.

Hans moved his lips onto hers, taking them with one swift move; Catherine hardly had any time to protest.

His hands pulled at her underwear with a tight tug, one hand slipping between her legs. Catherine felt his hand smooth between her inner thigh, forcing them apart, the tip of his finger played dangerously close to her folds, making Catherine’s body ache for his touch. She tightened up at the thought of what was happening, her legs closing around his hand.

He chuckled lowly, kissing her neck, moving till he foundered soft spot. Catherine dipped forward as he found the tender part of her neck, whilst pushing Hans’ hand deeper in her folds. She moaned lightly, nuzzling her nose in his neck.

“Not this time Mein liebe,” he cooed pulling his hand away. Catherine gave Hans a clouded glare, her cobalt eyes staring into his gray. He chuckled again, this time letting his grip go. He took a few steps away from Catherine, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“You almost had me again,” He said sounding partially out of breath. He sat back down at the desk looking up at Catherine. Catherine could hardly stand how he could touch her so tenderly only to move away at the last second.

“Oh what a minx you are Catherine,” Chuckled Hans, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

Catherine looked down at him completely astounded at his amount of control, she hardly had any anymore. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting it dangle loosely between his fingers. Smoke left his lips, a light cloud forming around him.

“Do you enjoy this little game of ours mein schatz?” He asked, grinning wildly, his eyes set in an alluring, smoldering gaze. His voice bit at her like a whip, and the dark charm that he displayed in his smirk only served to tear at her more.

Catherine had no answer to this question, she looked back up at him her eyes red with tears, he former anger was all gone for she had no place for it now. Her mind had long been clouded by Hans and every move he made to her broke her resolve as well as any anger she felt towards him.

“W-Why are you toying with me?!"She growled though a sob, feeling her knees fall week. Catherine collapsed to the ground on her knees, feeling all the resolve she possibly have left leave her in that very instant.

"You intrigue me mein fraülien.” He said as he pressed the cigarette to his lips again. Hans knew very well what he was doing, he could still hear her voice whispering lightly in his ear as he ‘slept’; that desperate, longing tone that rang ever so clear in her unsteady sobbing voice.

Catherine looked up, tears still streaming relentlessly down her cheeks. Hans walked over to her again, kneeling down in front of her. He moved his hand across her cheek, rubbing her tears away. Catherine choked back her sobs, trying her hardest to pull herself together.

“Bitte weine nicht mein liebling,” (Please don’t cry my darling) said Hans pulling her into his arms. He thought back to that night she spent with him, although she believed he didn’t he heard every word of her confession;he wasn’t ready to end this game between them just yet or was he?


Monsieur Remi Lefévre sat alone at his house, his mind mulling over Catherine. He knew very well that she had been taken away but the Germans, and more importantly by Hans Landa. This was very unsettling, he could not help but wonder just how loyal she really was. She seemed like a trustworthy girl, her father sure was, but that did not mean a damn thing when you live in Nazi occupied France. Remi walked out of his study, walking over to his kitchen at the sound of his whistling tea kettle. No matter what he could not get her out of his mind, and with the German’s always looming over his shoulder, one word out of Catherine would mean his death.

He moved back over to his dinner table, his cup of tea placed tightly in his hands. Remi moved the cup to his lips taking a sip. The tea served to calm his nerves, well at least for a moment it did. He let out a coddled sigh, though his attempts at keeping himself calm were not working too well. There was a knock at the door that made Remi freeze instantly.

“Monsieur Remi Lefévre?” Called a voice, no doubt a German by his accent.

“Ja?” Remi called back.

The door opened, and in walked a major dressed in a pressed black uniform with a long leather trench coat.

“Ich bin Sturmbannführer Dieter Hellstrom auf die SS,” (I am major Dieter Hellstrom of the SS) said the major smugly.

“Tun Sie spreche Französisch Sturmbannführer?”(Do you speak French Major?) asked the Frenchman trying to piece together the German he knew.

“Nein, nur Deutsch und Englisch,”(No, just German and English)

“What is it you want major?” Asked Remi, switching to English.

“I am acting in Colonel Hans Landa’s absence, he is predisposed at the moment and I have the duty of taking over his case with you sir,” said Hellstrom.

“And what case does Colonel Landa have with me?” Remi had to fight not to glare at Hellstrom. He laughed at Remi, his smug grin growing even wider.

“Oh I think you know,” said Hellstrom, “I believe it has something to do with Fraülein Catherine Albrecan.“

"I do not know the woman you speak of major,” said Remi in reply. Hellstrom chuckled lowly, his smug grin growing wider.

“Oh come now how much of a fool do you take me for?” Hellstrom took in a sigh looking back up at Remi, he should of expected the Frenchman wouldn’t corporate so easily.

Hellstrom pulled out his Walther pistol, pointing at Remi his grin even wider now. Remi looked down at the gun in the German’s hand, feeling his body tighten. He had his own pistol on his pocket but there was no way for him to get it. The Frenchman set his cup down licking his lips, he looked up at Hellstrom putting on a fake smile.

“There’s no need for such actions Major, put your pistol away.”

“Oh?” Hellstrom seemed to have no intentions of putting his Walther away, he cocked the safety of the pistol pointing it directly at Remi.

Remi would not allow himself to be shot down by the likes of Hellstrom. The Frenchman pulled his pistol from his coat taking the major almost by surprise shooting him. The major stumbled back, holding his hand to his arm, Remi had missed his mark. Hellstrom raised his Walther sending a ray of his own shots. Remi yelped as two out of the three shots fired went through his shoulder and upper arm. He knew Hellstrom had five more shots in his magazine and Remi had not intentions of taking them. The Frenchman hobbled into the bathroom locking the door. He could hear Hellstorm cursing loudly in German as he moved through the house looking for Remi. Remi hobbled over to the bathroom window, trying his hardest to pull himself over the ledge and onto the outside grass.

Blood spurted across the floor as his wounds were pressed and pulled from his attempts to jump the window. It felt like hell but Remi knew he had to get over, if he wanted to live he had to ignore the pain and jump. With one final agonizing pull Remi launched himself over the window smacking the ground with a firm thud. He wanted to scream, he bit his lips so hard it began to bleed as he repressed his screams. Remi could still hear Hellstrom rummaging through the house but it would only be a matter of time before he would find out he was no longer inside.

Struggling, Remi got onto his feet his hand holding his arm tightly to his chest. He cursed under his breath in French, his entire body burned and ached, his vision was growing hazy, he was beginning to lose his grip on reality as his mind grew numb. Although though all the pain he felt one thing was clear, he knew there was only one person who could have gave him up at that was Catherine Albrecan! Remi panted harshly but his mind was still focused on Catherine.

“I’ll make sure you pay for this!”

Putting Out the Fire With Kerosene: Part Nine
Hans Landa // Inglourious Basterds


Part One—-Part Two—-Part Three—-Part Four——Part Five——Part Six——-Part Seven——Part Eight——-Part Nine——Part Ten——Part Eleven——Part Twelve——Part Thirteen——Part Fourteen(The Final Chapter)

Catherine felt her skin tingle, her entire body shiver. There was no telling with Hans what lengths he would go to, to get the answers he wanted, and it was in no interest of Catherine to find out this man’s limits.

Hans chuckled lightly, letting his hand slip slowly from her thigh. His grey eyes tore into hers with a teasing, almost playful glint welling within them. Tapping her lightly on her thigh, Hans slipped out of the car, opening his door widely for Catherine to follow. She stepped lightly, carrying the edges of her dress in her hand. Her head felt like it was on fire as she forced herself to get up, she was still half asleep. With one misjudged foot Catherine stumbled forward, heading right for the pavement. Her hands jerked outward latching onto Hans’ shoulders. Her knees skidded harshly on the ground, causing her to dig her nails sharply intro his uniform.

Catherine felt his hand support the base of her back, and when she looked up at him there like always was that unmistakable smirk.

“Are you alright?” He glanced down at her knees, assessing the damage for himself.

Catherine stumbled over her words, wincing slightly as her eyes shifted to her knees.

“Are you always so accident prone mein liebling,” he looked at her with a raised brow, his smirk pressing even deeper in his lips.

Hans simply shook his head, pulling Catherine into his arms carrying her bridal style into the town house. He pulled her arms around his neck, lessening the strain on his arms. Catherine bit her lip harshly, not looking Hans in the eye. It didn’t bother him that she never looked at his eyes anymore, though he found that this shyness was not becoming of her.

Hans walked over to the bathroom, finding him in the position to play doctor once more. Pealing her dress up, taking with it a cote of dirt and blood he got a better look at her beat up legs. Under all the blood and dirt he could see older scars, ones that looked ragged and rough.

He felt a rare tinge of sympathy if it could be called that, tear at him at the sight of the scars on her body, and for a man like Hans, anything remotely close to sympathy was not a commonplace companion in his mind.

“Take off your dress mein liebe.” He uttered his command very straightly as not to be taken the wrong way. Hans knew if such scars were apparent on her legs, there were sure to be more, and he was always the most curious of men.

Catherine hesitated, her hands shaking in her lap. She could feel his eyes on her, there was no need to look up.

“Now, please,” Hans added.

Catherine never heard him say please before and the light pleasantry stood out hard in her mind. She closed her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth as she slowly pulled away the dress, exposing her skin to Hans’ icy gray eyes. The white fabric pooled at her feet like a cloud of bright smoke. Catherine kept her eyes firmly closed, her arms moving over her undergarments to hide her more promiscuous parts.

Hans’ eyes widened with keen interest, just as he suspected her body was lined with even more, even deeper hardened gashes; just what happened to this poor girl?

Hans opened his mouth to say something but Catherine cut him off before he had a chance, another rarity that hardly ever happened.

“Don’t,” was all she said. Catherine already knew he would ask and she couldn’t bear to tell him of all people that part of her life. Hans thought carefully, it would not be wise to test this, or at least not now. No this one needed more time, and it would be utterly foolish, stupid even to pursue it.

Catherine felt a mixture of emotions stir within her along with harsh, relentless memories. Not even Pierre knew about her scars and he was practically a brother to Catherine. But even still there was something pulling her to somewhere unknown, an uncharted part of her emotions that she couldn’t be sure about. Catherine looked up at Hans, watching as his eyes flowed over her scars, was that sympathy etched on those charming features?

“Are you satisfied colonel?” Her voice was very small, she could hardly stand such scrutiny from Hans any longer.

“Satisfied is a very inappropriate word liebe but yes.”

Catherine was surprised to hear this from him, she knew for a fact sympathy was not a key form of his character nor his personality so it was quite odd to hear him speak in such a way.

“You confuse me H-Hans.” His name felt so foreign on her tongue, she couldn’t even figure what came over her to call him by name.

Hans’ smirk found its way back on the face as Catherine uttered his name, he could see her tense up stiffly as if she were waiting for him to correct her.

“Good,” he teased grabbing a cloth to wipe down her legs. He ran water over the cloth, pressing it on her knees and down her shin.

Hans let his fingers glide over her soft tender flesh, caressing her bruises with light hands. After he was done he tossed the bloody cloth in the waterbasin, pulling bandages from the cabinet again.

Like before he bound and dressed her wound, quickly and easily; this was practically second nature to him, for he had served as a field medic during most of the corse of WWI. Hans took at careful moment to servey his work, running his hands around the bandages, pulling curtain

“Try standing,” he commanded, moving from her.

Catherine gave him and her lower half a weary glance, not completely trusting of her own legs. After a minute or so of hesitation, she set her feet on the ground. After a few moments she caught her balance, though she had to use the sink for support.

She looked up, Hans was still standing well away from her. Her knees wobbled unevenly, throwing her more off balance, and it didn’t help she was still half asleep. Catherine began to walk past Hans, grabbing on to various this on the wall to hold herself. Her legs felt stiff from the bandages, along with the hard bruise that had formed there. Finally Catherine mad it to her door, her hand gasping tightly on the threshold of the room.

Hans followed behind, but still stayed a good distance away. Catherine opened the door, taking one cautious step inside. She glanced up, Hans walked up to her, placing his hand on the door holding it open. He leaned forward, craning over Catherine.

“I have one question before you go mein lieblling,” he said softly. Catherine simply nodded, her grip growing harder on the door the longer she spent standing up.

“Who is Pierre?”

Catherine felt a sharp pain tear at her at the mention of Pierre’s name, so much so that it took her away from noticing that Hans managed to find his name somehow.

“He was a friend, a brother really, the only family I had left.” Catherine felt tears threaten to fall from her eyes, she was not easily emotion except. when the subject was her family, everything else she had grown hard too.

Hans said nothing, his face opened up slightly as if he just figured something out. The grin on his face slipped into a small smile, he leaned forward placing a soft chaste kiss on Catherine’s cheek.

“Gute Nacht schatz,”


Hans sat alone in his office, leafing through Catherine’s file. She was quite the slippery character, her prowess of hiding for so long was impressive. Normally characters of her nature who post such a threat to the German war effort were caught and disposed of quickly and seamlessly; oh but not dear Catherine. Hans pressed his cigarette to his lips taking a long drag, his eyes still darting along the file.

There was one faded photograph tucked inbetween one of the reports, a tall, broad shouldered man with pericing eyes stared at Hans from the photograph. Those eyes were unmistakable, with one glance he knew this man was Catherine’s father all by looking at his eyes. He was suited in a rugged British military uniform, though the uniform was that from the first world war.

The name Benedict Albrecan was written on the reverse side of the photograph and the amount of information on him stopped there. The report very briefly mentioned his death, but the circumstances surrounding said death were uncertain and the information couldn’t be completely relied on. Whoever investigated Catherine and her father first was surely an very incompetent idiot by Hans’ standards, sloppy and uncoordinated with his information.

Hans tossed the file away from him, the only thing useful in the damn thing was his own notes, of which he had little of at the moment.


Catherine laid flat on the bed, her hands tucked under her pillow, her legs close to her chest. Her mind ran full speed ahead, blocking out all the pain in her legs, all she could think about was that one idea flowing in her mind, the one that always manage to resurface.

‘You are an idiot!’ she growled at herself, her face contorting into a deep sneer.

Catherine closed her eyes tightly, doing all she could to block that lingering thought in her mind. Nothing she did was enough, and like always the same image persisted.

'damn bastard,’ she spoke aloud this time but her voice was muffled by the pillow.


Hans woke up the following morning rather abruptly. It still bothered him how much information he lacked, it had been almost a week now and nothing was coming up. Hans glanced over at the mirror, running his hand through he hair as a make-shift comb. His uniform was not as neat as he would have wanted but he wanted to get to Catherine as soon as possible, the curiosity was getting the best of him.

He slipped down the hall, making his way to her door, peering in through a crack. For once she was awake and she was pacing steadily. She had her arms crossed, with one hand clasped tightly over her mouth giver her the appearance of being in deep thought.

Back and forth she moved, to and fro from the left and right of the room, mumbling lowly as she did. Something must have been bothering her, but what, was the question. Hans pressed his ear to the door, making sure not to make a sound as he did.

“Damn,” he heard her mutter, “Damn it!”

Hans’ face was fixated in concentration, trying to figure what was going on. Catherine continued to mumble, this time a bit more clearly.

“Why, no how is the question,” Catherine continued to pace, “I’m a bloody fool is why, bastard.”

Hans felt a small smirk cross his lips, but he still kept his ear firmly on the door and his eyes ever so slightly peering in. Catherine finally stopped pacing, sitting down at the foot of the bed, her eyes focused firmly on the ground.

“What would you think of me now dad?” Her voice was now even more hushed, her hands began to fold into each other, burrowing in her lap.

Hans took another, closer look into the room, he could see, just barely part of her face. Her hair hid most of her features but from what he could see her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed from crying. Catherine moved her hands from her lap burring her face in them, now completely hiding the rest of her features.

It was now that Hans took his moment to enter the room, finding she had calmed herself down enough to not be too startled by his sudden presence.

“Guten Morgen liebe,” he said talking a step into the room.

Catherine jerked her head up, roughly wiping her puffy eyes were tears used to be.

“Guten Morgen,” her voice was constricted, tight and almost rough.

“Are you ready for us to begin?”

Catherine looked up at him, an almost pained expression on her face. She stood up crossing her arms in a show of strength, though she had little left anymore.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then tell me, and this time I hope you mulled over your answer well enough, ” said Hans, “What connection do you have with The Basterds?”

It felt a bit odd to finally get back on subject, while also it was a breath of fresh air for him. Catherine let out a tight sigh, about to give her answer.

“If you want anything from me, I must get something in return.” She spoke plainly, sounding as if Hans gave her any other answer than a 'yes’ she would resort to being silent once again.

“That’s not how it works mein liebe and you know it, I’m not going to play this little game with you.”

“I told you they are not worth your protection or your loyalty for they share none of that for you.” Hans slipped in his small retort, taking a step closer to Catherine. “All that’s left is hear and now and whether or not you can make it through this war alive.”

Hans pushed Catherine forward making her fall back on her bed, he was dangerously close, his arms once more on both sides of her waist, his eyes focused intently. He leaned forward his lips grazing the soft flesh on her neck, etching closer to her ear.

“What would you say if I told you The Basterds already abandoned you, thinking you’re a traitor because of one little misunderstanding?” Hans whispered softly in her ear, his warm breath cascading over her neck sending a  resonant shiver all across her body.

“I’d call you a liar,” said Catherine having to fight to choke out her answer.

Hans straightened himself from Catherine, standing up fully. He bounced un his heels for a moment, thinking on a brief thought.

“Well then,” he said simply.

Catherine sat up herself, pushing herself from the bed. She took a few steps past Hans, looking over her shoulder at him. Hans could see the look in her eyes, there was a lacking layer of trust between them that simple threats and negotiation could not replace. Now as Hans began to think more, he would most likely have to change his methods of interrogation to coax an answer out of Catherine. He could tell that most of her relationships were based foremost on trust which she had little with Hans, maybe all it took was to change that.

Hans placed his hand over his chest, curling his lips into a smile. He took a step in front of Catherine, making sure he had her undivided attention.

“I think we misjudge each other mein schatz,” he began.

“I’m listening,” said Catherine looking up at Hans again. Her voice was still rather hesitant but she sounded more receptive now.

“What is it you want me to tell you?” Hans spoke carefully, feeling odd tht he was saying this, it was so out of the ordinary for him, but by the look on Catherine’s face it was just what he needed to do.

“I’ve known too many liars in my life, and if you want anything from me I want to trust you.” She spoke as if she had little faith in her words, which wasn’t far from the truth.

No matter what ever she was starting to feel towards Hans he was still a damn slimy, manipulative, charming bastard in her eyes, and she had little faith anything could change that.

Hans couldn’t help but grin slightly, feeling a sense of pride in himself that he was correct in his assumption of Catherine.

“Of course,” he bent down and kissed her hand lightly, “What would you like to know?”