A/N: This story was written a long time ago, and since the closure of Quizilla, the site it was originally posted on, it sat in my folders gathering virtual dust. I decided I'd really like to bring it back out. The story is completed, but may take some time to edit and post.

Edit: This chapter has been gutted and rewritten, as will the rest of the story. Any feedback would be really helpful.

Chapter 1: Villa-ins and Interrogations

In this chapter:

· A Nazi Officer

· A hidden Jewish family

· A first kill

· An apple tree

"Parlez-vous français?"

"I prefer English, if that's okay."

"Of course. I appreciate your manners. It makes this whole process so much easier."

Elsie glared at the relatively short man seated across from her at her grandparents' spacious, pinewood dining table. She had been sitting in that exact spot only hours earlier enjoying breakfast with her two relatives as they discussed their plans for the day. The German soldiers had arrived just before noon, pulling into the French villa's horseshoe-shaped driveway before briefly surveying the property from their vehicles.

Elsie had been out reading on the second-story patio when the approaching roar of the motorcycles had disrupted her peace. She had placed her book on the table beside her and gotten to her feet to peer out over the ledge, unintentionally locking eyes with the important-looking man who stepped out of the car below – the same man who now sat across from her. Her grandfather had greeted their guests with his hunting rifle, ignoring his wife's protests as he stalked down the front steps towards them. The weapon was promptly - and forcibly - removed from his possession. Elsie had looked on as one of the soldiers slammed the butt of the rifle into the back of her grandfather's head, driving him to his knees before the smiling Nazi officer. This moment seemed to set the tone for the rest of the visit. The two uniformed motorcyclists had escorted her grandparents into a different part of the house, while their commanding officer remained behind to question the youngest member of the family. The moment he had spotted her wary expression looking down at him from the balcony, he had decided she would be the easiest person to help confirm the rumors he had been hearing.

And he loved rumors.

"How can I help you, Detective...?"

"Colonel, actually. Though one could see how you might make such an assumption," he replied with a friendly smile, motioning to the leather-bound notebook open on the table in front of him.

Elsie returned the smile and gave a small nod, feigning politeness, hoping that her co-operation might keep both her and her grandparents alive. The Nazis had invaded France in 1939 and had occupied the area for four years now, but until this day, they had never troubled the Marigolds. She had no idea what reasons they had to question her.

"At the risk of sounding narcissistic, Miss Marigold, might I ask if by chance you have heard of me?"

"I haven't, no."

He seemed disappointed by this reply.

"But surely you have heard of the clean-up currently being undertaken by the Gestapo and SS?"

"Clean-up?" she frowned.

He stared at her as though she were a dullard, and she quickly replied, "I've heard a lot about the German army and their, uh, exploits. I've just never heard it put quite that way."

His expression of disdain melted back into one of friendly reassurance.

"You're quite right. Cleansing might be the better word for it. As they say, 'It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it'," he chuckled.

"And what does this 'cleansing' entail exactly?" Elsie asked. She knew exactly what it entailed, but she had never had the misfortune of being face to face with one the men responsible. She wanted to hear it in his own words; how he justified an ideology that called for the murder of millions.

"To put it quite simply, we are eradicating the Jewish populace. Now, what does this mean for a young woman such as yourself? Well, nothing because you are not Jewish. However, I do have reason to believe that your grandparents are currently harboring a Jewish family in this very house."

He tapped the table with his index finger, emphasizing the last three words, and then looked to Elsie for a reaction. She simply stared at him, brow furrowed.

"Would it be correct to assume that you are not aware of any such family?"

She didn't reply right away, her mind whirring as she tried to process this accusation. She was well aware that her grandparents were strong opposers of the German invasion and the Nazi philosophies it entailed, having often caught snippets of their hushed conversations when they thought she wasn't around. They had tried their best to keep her in the dark about the horrible atrocities being committed across Europe, but Elsie had always been a curious girl and she had her own ways of obtaining information. There were plenty of people in the nearby town willing to talk. Listening to the Colonel speak now and the casual way he condemned an entire race of people to their deaths, she felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach.

"Have you been down to the wine cellar lately?" he went on in a conversational tone.

She fought to maintain her composure, aware of what was now at stake. "I don't tend to drink the stuff."

"But your grandparents, do they not enjoy a glass from their own extensive selection from time to time?"

She grit her teeth and forced a polite smile once more.

"I think they may have been waiting for them to reach their vintage ages."

This time Landa smiled, but the sparkle of humor had left his eyes. He took out a pen from his inside jacket pocket and ran a finger down the list of names written on the page in front of him, stopping as he found the right ones.

"Your name is Elsie Marigold, correct?"

"It is."

"And you've been living in France for how long?"

"Seven years."

"With your grandparents?"

"Oui. Yes."

"And your parents?"

She paused a moment and he caught a brief flicker of remembered grief.

"My father died when I was five from a war related illness. My mother died when I was fourteen from pneumonia."

"Your father served in the Great War?" Landa asked with interest.

"Yes. Maybe you saw him. He would have been one of the men shooting at you from the opposite trench."

She immediately regretted this sudden slip her act, silently scolding herself; though she was amused by his sudden look of surprise. For a moment her smile became genuine.

The Colonel had underestimated her character. She was no simple, innocent French country girl, though she played the part well. She was not even French, as he could tell from her French-inflected American accent. Letting the inappropriate comment slip, he went on:

"Miss Marigold, you seem to be under the impression that we are something of an enemy to you. I can assure you that this is not the case. Simply tell me what I wish to know, and my men and I will be on our way. Your co-operation is all we require."

But her co-operation was not something he was going to get.

"You Germans really like starting wars, don't you?"

He sighed and replaced the cap on his pen, setting in down on the table.

"We did not initiate the Great War. I believe it was a Serbian nationalist who can claim that feat. We merely remained loyal to our allies. Allies which did not happen to include America. Or France."

"But you did start this one," she pointed out.

"Tell me, Miss Marigold," the Colonel began, shifting his position slightly in his chair, "Would you not fight to save those that you love? The country whose blood runs through your very veins? I am not here as your enemy, I am merely trying to improve the lives of my fellow countrymen."

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but you seem to have crossed over your border. Your fellow countrymen are hundreds of miles away."

Landa stared at her, unamused, and though her heart was pounding and her stomach was fraught with nerves, she stared right back at him.

"You know, Miss Marigold, I am rather thirsty," he said, putting a hand to his throat to indicate this, "and seeing as you are yet to offer me a drink, would you mind if I were to peruse your wine collection. I'm quite fond of the white, myself."

Before she could reply or make a move, his expression grew dark and lost all charm. With a quick hand signal, four of his soldiers marched down the marble hallway towards the entrance to the wine cellar. Elsie waited with bated breath. The sound of squeaking hinges issued from the soldiers' position as they pulled back the heavy wooden doors that led to the underground storage room, their footsteps echoing as they descended.

"I wonder what they might find for me down there," Landa said with mock curiosity.

Elsie was wondering the same thing. She had no knowledge of this family she was supposedly harboring, but she knew that if her grandparents had been presented with the opportunity to help someone in need, they would have gladly taken it. There were a few silent moments when she thought the soldiers might not find anything; that perhaps the Colonel had been mistaken and the rumors he had heard had been wrong. But that thought was soon driven from her mind as yelling and screaming issued from below.

A single soldier ran back into the room to reveal their findings, stopping beside the Colonel and bending down to speak to him in German.

"Sir, we have them."

Landa turned in his seat, eerily relaxed.

"How many?"

"Two men, two children, a woman and infant, and an elderly woman."

Landa turned back to Elsie looking very pleased with himself. He gave a short sigh and stood up, straightening his already immaculate uniform and replacing his hat. He took out his handgun from its side holster, spun the cylinder and then snapped it back into place with a flick of his wrist.

"A man's work is never done," he said, turning to make his way towards the cellar. He called over his shoulder, "Viktor, watch the girl until I return.

His driver gave an obedient nod, standing at attention just behind her.

Elsie strummed her fingertips against the hardwood tabletop as she began to calculate her escape. She could try to save the family below, who had obviously meant something to her grandparents if they were willing to risk their lives to keep them in the villa, but she had no weapons; nothing to fight off the four armed men.

From the corner of her eye she could see the last remaining solider. His holster just happened to be on the side facing her. She smiled, weighing up the odds of her new plan. Pretending to stare up at the ceiling, she caught a glimpse of the man who had been ordered to guard her. He was quite young, possibly a new recruit. Perhaps it was his first major outing with the Colonel. Either way, he appeared far too distracted to pose much of a problem for her.

Okay, she thought to herself, so I grab the gun, shoot the soldier, run for the cellar, take down the Colonel and his henchmen and lead the family out. It sounded easy enough in her head, but it was the execution of it that was really going to test her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

A hand shot out and grabbed the sidearm. The soldier spun around, eyes wide, and saw the girl leaning back, sideways, on her chair, his own gun aimed right between his eyes. One quick shot and he was on the ground.

Elsie winced, waiting for the echo, but it never came. Looking at the weapon, she found a silencing device screwed to the end of it. The Nazis had come meaning business. Staring at the weapon in awe, Elsie quickly brought her focus back to the plan. She stood up and crept towards the cellar door situated on the floor towards the back of the house. The patio doors were open, offering sweeping views of the Marigolds' apple orchard and the hills beyond it. She paused for a moment and drew a breath of the fresh, country air to ease her nerves, then walked towards the gaping mouth of the basement. Stifled shots sounded from below.

Feeling sick but thinking fast, she mourned her failed plan and the lost lives below, and slowly stepped away from the cellar door. They would be coming up the stairs any minute now, unless they took the time to dispose of the bodies, but she didn't want to think about that right now.

"You two, go get the girl and bring her down here. We may as well put them all together before we burn this place down."

The Colonel had practically made the decision for her, but she had to find her grandparents first. She walked passed the open patio doors, froze, then took a step back. Two shapes lay out on the grass, liquid red mixing with the lush green. She stepped out towards them and stifled a surprised sob as she confirmed what she had already guessed.

It had been a game the whole time - the Colonel had never intended to let her go, regardless of what she said. She squeezed her eyes closed for a brief moment, holding back tears, then heard footsteps behind her. She made a run for it. If she could find a tree with branches low enough to climb, she might just have a chance. Perhaps the soldiers would think she had escaped into the nearby woods. Or they might search every tree until they found her. She had no other choice.

Stepping through the back doorway, Colonel Landa watched the young woman run. He was about to reach for his pistol but hesitated, then placed his hand back by his side.

"Sir, shall I go after her?" one of his two remaining men asked behind him. The Colonel could have shot her from where he stood, but he didn't see the point. Yes, she had killed one of his men, but then he had never been particularly fond of Viktor. The boy was clumsy and stupid; the girl had done him a favor. It was a shame he'd had to execute her grandparents like that, but then they had been harboring enemies of the state. He considered his man's question, then shook his head.

"No. Leave her. She's no threat to us."

He turned back into the house and disappeared, taking the four soldiers with him.

Balanced on a thick branch, Elsie watched, crying, as her home of seven years exploded in a burst of flames and spent lives.

Silently, she swore revenge.