So began another tiresome morning in the farmlands of France. Accompanied by his entourage of officers, Colonel Hans Landa made his way about the countryside with ease, checking names off of his menacing list. However a sheer veil of mystique hung over the first household of that bright, dewy morning. There was record of the home and farm being occupied however documentation of the household members remained absent. In addition the family in question aroused suspicion, as their last name was German.

"No doubt this morning will be an eventful one," the Colonel announced brightly, cracking his wrist with a kind of chipper savoir-faire. His compatriots did not share his enthusiasm for the day ahead as they remained in their solemn, sleepy silence. The car came to a halt on the dusty road. The men exited the vehicle to stretch their legs while Landa gave himself a once over in the side mirror. He would be the first to admit he was incredibly vain, but not without cause. Her surveyed his features as if he were attempting to entice the mirror to unhinge itself and leap in his direction. With a swift adjustment of his cap he stomped his way over to the humble little cottage up the grassy knoll. The win blew a grassy smell through the air and the braying of horses could be heard not too far off. With a flick of his wrist, Hands Landa brought his gloved fist upon the door three times to alert the family of his presence.

A woman not too much over than himself opened the door. Despite her maturity she had managed to keep her comely figure. Even under her black, matronly dress her womanly figure was apparent. She had straight black hair, streaked with grey that extended a little past her shoulders and she greeted Landa with deep, dark eyes. She pursed her heart shaped mouth before uttering a guttural "oui?"

Landa grinned, he sensed a bit a fear in her deep voice. "Ahh bon matin ma belle Madam" (Ahh, good morning my lovely lady.) "Ai-je réussi à faire mon chemin vers la maison Fuchs?" (Have I managed to make my way to the Fuchs household?) he asked the voluptuous lady of the house.

"Mais oui" (Erm, yes) she said, fear and confusion still wrapped around her words.

"Ensuite, il est prudent de supposer que vous êtes Madam Fuchs?" (Then it is safe to assume that you are Mrs. Fuchs?) Hans said with a debonair smile. The woman nodded. "Eh bien Mme Fuchs, je suis Colonel Hans Landa de la SS. Quelle joie de vous rencontrer." (Well Mrs. Fuchs, I am Colonel Hans Landa of the SS. What a delight it is to meet you) he said taking her pale hand and placing a kiss upon her knuckles. He felt her immediately tense up and he enjoyed every second of her anxiety. "Puis-je entrer?" (May I come in?) he asked graciously.

She immediately swung open the door a little panic stricken. "Bien sûr vous pouvez Colonel. S'il vous plaît faites comme chez vous." (Of course you may Colonel. Please make yourself at home) she said, stepping aside. He bowed his head politely, took off his cap and swept past her. He took a seat at the small table by the window; the cottage was fairly spacious and well lit. "Puis-je vous offrir quelque chose? Vin ou du café peut-être?" (May I offer you anything? Wine or coffee perhaps?) she asked him.

He smiled, he had the feeling she knew exactly who he was. Which would make his job that morning considerably easier. Although he preferred dealing with men, woman made his rounds far simpler. Either through charm or intimidation he had his way. "Un café sera Madame merveilleux, et je voudrais aussi l'amour de connaître votre prénom" (A coffee would be wonderful Madam, and I would also love to know your first name) he said, taking out his leather bound book of names.

He noticed her eyes linger on the book for a second too long. "Ahh S'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi. Mon nom est Dielle. Dielle Fuchs" (Ahh please forgive me. My name is Dielle. Dielle Fuchs.)

He wrote her name out in the book. "Quel une belle nom. Et tout à fait inhabituel, non?" (What a beautiful name. And quite unusual, no?). He looked up at her, his expression suddenly taking on a cold air. "Un prénom français et un nom allemand. Comme c'est intéressant." (A French first name and a German surname. How interesting.)

"Mon mari était un Allemand" (My husband was a German) Dielle stated placing the milk and sugar on the table and passing the Colonel a large mug of coffee.

Hans said nothing yet, he just looked at Dielle and smiled. He took this opportunity to spoon ample amounts of milk and sugar into his coffee. Very slowly, teaspoon after teaspoon; he could tell she was very uncomfortable. "Voulez-vous vous asseoir dans votre posséder à la maison?" (Won't you sit in your own home?) he asked, gesturing to the seat across the table from him. She looked at the seat as if it had just appeared out of thin air. She lifted her skirts about her ankles and sat down with a slight 'thump.' Hans stirred his coffee slowly, thoughtfully surveying Dielle. He was enjoying every ounce of the uncomfortable tension that was now filling the room. "Donc ton mari est Allemand" (So your husband is German) he began, ignoring the obvious announcement of her husband in the past tense. He would assume nothing, and allow Dielle to tell him everything. "Et où est-il maintenant?" (And where is he now?).

There was a beat. "Il est mort" (He is dead) Dielle said flatly, folding her hands in her lap.

Hans leaned back in his chair. "Mes condoléances. Si je peux demander, comment at-il transmettre?" (My condolences. If I may ask, how did he pass on?) he asked.

"C'est bien. Ahh, accident de chasse, il ya quatre ans." (It's fine. Erm, hunting accident four years ago) she quietly said.

"Comment tragique. Quel était son nom?"(How tragic. What was his name?) Hans inquired, his pen slowly etching across the paper.

"Emerick" she replied.

"Emerick" Hans repeated, making a record of the man. "Ensuite, je suppose qu'il est sûr de dire que vous savez l'allemand? Je dois admettre que la langue française n'est pas mon point fort." (Then I suppose it is safe to assume you know German? I must admit the French language is not my strong suit) he said. "Pourrait-on poursuivre cette discussion en Allemand?" (Might we continue the discussion in German?)

Dielle bit her lip in distress. "Monsieur Landa, cela est terriblement gênante mais je ne connais pas l'allemand. Mon mari était l'un bilingue. Je ne peux parler français" (Monsieur Landa, this is terribly embarrassing but I do not know any German. My husband was the bilingual one. I can only speak French) she said apologetically.

Before he could get another comment in the back door was carelessly swung open. A young woman stood in the doorway, a wicker basket of breeze dried linens in her arms. She regarded the man sitting at her table with much surprise. "Maman, pourquoi cet homme est ici?" (Mama, why is this man here?) the girl asked in rich but exasperated tones.

"Mon amour, ce n'est du Colonel Hans Landa de…" (My love, this is Colonel Hans Landa from…) Dielle began, but the girl interrupted her.

"I know who you are," the girl said in perfect German. Hans allowed an expression of bemusement to decorate his distinguished face. He looked the girl over as she remained frozen by the door, still clutching that wicker basket. She had an incredibly peculiar body, not too tall but incredibly lithe. Almost childlike. Her hips were narrow and her limbs were willowy. Clearly not expecting company that morning she wore a slightly sheer blue sleeveless dress that buttoned all the way down. Both her breasts and buttocks were small, round and lifted. She shifted her feet, which were bare and covered in dirt, uncomfortably; stepping on her own messy toes. Her light blond hair was wavy and impossibly long, ending in an unkempt mess at about the bottom of her ribcage. Even at his distance Hans could tell it could use a trim and a wash, considering the matted sheen at her light roots. It was apparent she had her German father's coloring with her light hair and pink-pale skin. However she inherited her mother's full mouth and dark, intimidating eyes. Her slight frame and downright careless appearance gave her a sort of untamed appeal, he thought to himself. Like the tree nymphs of old folk tales; he chuckled to himself at the thought. The girl simply stood there, haunting the doorway, refusing to take her eyes off of him.

"Darling ne pas être un gosse. Venez ici et vous présenter à nos invités."(Darling don't be a brat. Come here and introduce yourself to our guest) Dielle commanded her daughter. The girl paused, slowly bent to put down her laundry basket and cautiously made her way over to the table. She stopped as she reached her mother's side, who swiftly persuaded her forward with a swat to the back of her thigh. She walked over to the seated Hans. As she approached her bare feet rested lightly on the toes of his boots, as she extended her hand for a handshake. He laughed, took her hand and turned it knuckles upin order to place a light kiss on the top of her hand. When he relinquished her, the girl slowly walked backwards to her mother's chair and took a seat on the floor, her legs and dress sprawling.

"S'il vous plaît pardonnez mon colonel fille. Elle peut être intolérablement impudente à certains moments." (Please forgive my daughter Colonel. She can be intolerably impudent at times) Dielle said gripping her daughters shoulder firmly. "Cependant, dans toute sa vulgarité, ceci est mon Nadine." (However, in all of her vulgarity, this is my Nadine.)

He swiftly wrote the girl's name down in the book. "Ahh Nadine, Un autre jolie nom. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer Nadine" (Ahh Nadine, another pretty name. It is a pleasure to meet you Nadine) Hans said.

"Likewise" she said in German, but her tone did not dictate she was pleased at all.

"And the girl speaks German!" Hans said in German, throwing his hands in the air. "Impressively too, for a farm girl raised in France."

"My father taught me," Nadine said coolly.

"Yes, Emerick Fuchs, I am sorry to hear about his passing. I hunting accident is a terrible way to go indeed," Hans said, testing the girl.

Nadine opened her mouth to let out a wave of anger no doubt, but composed herself. She may be young, inappropriate and brash, but not unintelligent. He was an SS officer and commander every ounce of her respect. Her desire to give it to him, or his deserving of respect was an entirely separate matter. "You have already discussed my family with my mother then sir?" she asked.

Hans crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, satisfied to not be met with any of her cheek. "Yes, just getting everyone on the same page" he replied.

"If I may ask what else have you discussed?" Nadine inquired.

Hans shook his head "Simply matter of your family so far my dear. I must say your household was quite elusive. We have almost no record of your existence."

"We do try out best to keep a low profile," Nadine said, some discourteousness tainting her words. "After all it is only my mother and I here, we try to remain as unobserved as possible."

"And why is that?" Landa asked suspiciously. He glanced at the girl's mother who sat in a confused silence, hands fidgeting in her lap.

"Father valued a man's right to privacy, thus I was raised with similar ideals" Nadine said, interlacing her fingers and laying them in her lap. She tried he best to stay calm. She could see out of the corner of her eye her mother slightly panicking. Nadine herself was incredibly uneasy, but she only permitted it to be internal. Naturally in the presence of the notorious "Jew Hunter" one's insides were bound to be churning.

He accepted her answer. "You made it clear you know who I am" he began. "Do you know what job I am to complete in France?"

Nadine got up and helped herself to some of the coffee. Hans pushed the milk and sugar towards her across the table. She ignored them completely, sat back down at her mother feet and took a large swallow of her dark beverage, staring back at Hans all the while. "Yes I am aware of what you are doing. It is why you have come here, to my home, that puzzles me."

Hans laughed at her comment. "My dear Nadine, what makes you believe you are so special that your family should be ruled out of my mandatory search?"

"Simple" Nadine said. "We, unlike most families in these lands, are not hiding Jews in our hollowed out walls. Or our haylofts. Or even amongst the horses. You may look, but you will find nothing." She gripped her mug in her two hands and drank deeply. Allowing a few streams of coffee to dribble down her mouth and into her lap.

Hans grimaced at her unladylike behavior. "Nadine" he began. She wiped her mouth with her forearm and looked at him. "How do you feel about the Jews?"

"That is a difficult question to answer Herr Landa" she replied. "How can I only feel one way about an entire group of individuals? I might befriend one, and admire another. While yet another could drive me half mad with aggravation. One could hurt me and another could posses the qualities to make me fall in love with him. I know this is not the answer you care looking for, but I fail to see any reason to fill your ears with lies. I cannot hate, or love any entire group." She prayed her words would not betray her. She has nothing to hide, so hopefully honesty truly was the best policy. Nadine only wanted to keep her and her mother as far away from the war as she could.

"That is very interesting. Your careless apathy is I daresay…refreshing, Fraulein Fuchs. I imagine you believe yourself to be an enlightened young lady toting around that opinion." Landa chuckled to himself as he rose from his seat. He slowly made his way over to Nadine and knelt down upon one knee so they were face to face. "But I will tell you right now, you're not. You're simply a self-righteous child playing dress up, doing her very best to be brave for her whimpering mother's sake. If you were truly aware of what was going on, you'd know we were not here to search your house." He stood and turned on his heel waiting for a response.

Nadine immediately stood. Her façade had been seen through and her mind exposed. "Then Herr Landa, please" she began. His ears pricked up at the word "please." He had yet to hear a sincere tone in her voice and now he was being flooded with "pleases." "Please…what were the intentions of your visit here this morning?" Nadine asked taking a few small steps towards him.

"As I had said previously there was very little record of your family's history or actual whereabouts. This rose quite a bit of suspicion considering the large amount of Jewish families taking refuge in nearby farms." Landa turned to face her again, she cradled her elbows in front of her waist, a nervous gesture no doubt. "Now, this provoked me to do a little research of my own! Your darling mother was more than helpful in terms of filling the holes in my research."

Nadine simply looked at him, at a loss for anything clever or something to prove she was not nervous. "I still don't understand," she said.

"Fraulein, you may know this or you may not but the issue here is with your mother. She is under suspicion of attempting to pass for Gentile and needs to be brought in for questioning."

Nadine felt her mouth fall open, she could not believe the words coming out of this bastard's mouth. She balked up and protectively put her hand on her mother's shoulder. Her mother looked up at her in a frightened confusion. She hadn't the slightest idea of what the Colonel had said. "I can assure you that won't be necessary. I was raised a Catholic by both of my parents. Besides if my mother were a Jew my father never would have married her," Nadine said slightly breathlessly.

"We have reason to believe that this began before your father and mother even met, considering where the records begin and end. I simply need to go through the files with her. If it is nothing, it is nothing. However, I have an overwhelming suspicion it is something" Landa stated. His voice was ice. He watched as the girl looked back at her mother then to him, searching for words, searching for pleas.

"Take me instead" Nadine said. "I beg you, leave my mother be and take me instead."

Hans laughed out loud, taking out his pipe. He began to light it and said "Fraulein I am afraid that is not how it works."

"In most cases no, it's not. But if you bring my mother in, you put that black bag over her head and take her to a place she's never been filled with SS officers such as yourself you will get no information out of her. She is old, and fragile. You see now she cannot even attempt to contain her fear! I can go through any files you might have, and answer all of your questions." Nadine was begging now, a level she never wanted to sink to. She knew she wouldn't be able to appeal to him sympathetically, and she could supplement nothing worthy of a bribe. However, perhaps a trade of human being would suffice. "You know as well as I that the SS just needs a body. I can speak German and can keep my head more proficiently than my poor mother. If she went with you she'd be reduced to muteness, and she'd be tortured or shot. I'm not asking you to look the other way and not complete your job. I respect the fact you have a duty to complete, but please. Please Herr Landa, complete it with me instead."

Her appeal was valid, and sadly her assumptions about the SS only requiring a body to supply information were well founded. He surveyed the girl's mother who quivered in her seat, hair getting greyer by the minute. He wondered if the woman would even survive the car ride. He weighed the options, gently puffing on his pipe. The frightened lady would not be too hard to track down if she fled her farm, although he hardly thought she would budge. The girl, although obnoxious, was seemingly strong willed and apparently honest. No tricks, no hiding. He sighed and shook his head. "You're really going to martyr yourself for your mother's sake?"

"I can clear her name, I have complete knowledge of my family history and origins, and would divulge all information to you. Her heart would not be able to take it, the interrogation would destroy her. Please, I am aware I am out of line. In addition I was less than respectful to you when you arrived and deserve no pity. I am simply asking for an exchange."

He threw his hands up. "If you can supply the information with more accuracy than your mother Fraulein, than I suppose this is a necessary supplement. However, if I get the slightest feeling you are lying, withholding information or simply do not possess the amount of knowledge you boast about, you and your mother will be punished." He tapped his foot, clearing his pipe and staring at the long haired nymph.

"I will relinquish everything to you," she said. She looked at him with hollow, pleading eyes. Her mother was her everything, and she would do whatever she could to keep her from coming to harm.

Hans frowned. "I will hold you to that" he said. He grabbed Nadine's arm and began to drag her out of the house. Her mother screamed and tried to stop him.

"Que faites-vous avec mon enfant?" (What are you doing with my child?) the woman screamed.

"Madame la langue sarrasins votre petite fille lui a mis dans un peu de mal" (Madam your little girl's tongue has gotten her into quite a bit of trouble) Hans said, wrapping his gloved fingers a little too tightly around Nadine's middle arm. "Elle sera apporté à Paris, pour le moment pour un interrogatoire" (She will be brought to Paris for the time being for questioning).

Nadine managed to wrench her arm out of her captor's grasp for just a moment to plant a kiss on her mother's lips. She held her just long enough to whisper "Je t'aime plus que la vie elle-même. Ceci est pour vous. Soyez sûrs." (I love you more than life itself. This if for you. Be safe.) The colonel grabbed her again more forcefully the second time around.

"Do not try my patience Fraulein" he spat into her ear. "Simply because you are supplementing yourself for your mother does not mean you are to be treated differently and anyone else in my custody." He wrenched open the car door and pushed her inside. "Pull a stunt like that again and I cannot promise you will see you farm or quaking mother again, understood?"

"Yes, Herr Landa" Nadine said, now visibly frightened. As the car began to move another solider outfitted the Colonel with a black bag, which was placed over Nadine's head and tightened at the neck. As she was denied any fleeting looks of her home, Nadine's thoughts turned to her mother. Her departure may have broken her mother's heart, but at least it saved her life.

(Author's Note: I'm not sure if I want to continue this and would love some feedback. I was trying to create a story a little different from your typical "I'm an American girl so I'm not supposed to be here during WWII, you should probably take me in for questioning and do me." However as unrealistic as some of those stories are, I am not sure if my plot device is any better. Also keeping Landa in character is hard as hell. So please give me constructive criticism, maybe even some flames. Let me know if this is a story worth writing, because only the audience can tell me that. Thank you. Oh and ps. I used google translator for the French, I know it's poorly done.)