The interrogation

BY : shimmer205
Category: G through L > Inglourious Basterds
Dragon prints: 3598
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the characters or situations of Inglourious Basterds. I have made no profit from my fan fiction, its all just for fun.

There is a severe lack of Inglourious Basterds fics on this site. I hope I can inspire other writers to give it a go with my feeble attempt... Come on, it was an awesome film!
And yes, I know Hans Landa is totally evil, but there is something about him... so charming and dangerous. Plus Christoph Waltz is hot...

Enjoy, I have more to add depending on feedback. Review please!!

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Colonel Hans Landa opened the door to the cinema's office and ushered Bridget von Hammersmark inside with a flourish. She tried to return his self-assured smile, but her heart was in her throat and all she could manage was a slight upturning of her red lips. She entered the small, dimly lit office, favouring her uninjured leg, and cast her eyes about quickly, looking for a weapon, an escape, anything...

'Take a seat, Fraulein Hammersmark.'
His voice was pleasant, his English impeccable. Landa pulled up a chair for her, directly against the office's only door, Hammersmark noticed with a flutter of sickening fear. He shrugged out of his leather overcoat, hanging it on the back of the chair before gesturing for her to sit. She had no choice but to lower herself into the chair, as elegantly as she could, and try to keep her expression neutral and pleasant. Her heart beat faster as she realised what she had become; a scared little girl, absolutely cornered. She watched as the Colonel retrieved a chair for himself, sitting directly opposite her. His perfectly pressed S.S. uniform heightened her intimidation, complimenting the line of his shoulders and accentuating his masculine strength and latent power. Landa was close close enough for their knees to brush against each other slightly as he relaxed, despite her rigid posture.

Why was she even noticing such things? Hans Landa, the ruthless Jew Hunter, the cold-hearted murderer. And yet, in her state of fear and tension, Hammersmark could not deny her long-held interest. Was interest the right word? Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Landa had always unnerved her, intimidated her in a way that the masses of star-struck, stuttering fans never could. He was not afraid of her, and he showed it. He had always made her nervous with his smooth voice and impeccable manners. It was as though he was constantly hiding his prodigious intelligence and cold calculation just below the surface, and his true self was ready to erupt at any moment. She could not help but remember that being in this situation, alone in a room with the Colonel, at his mercy, had been a prominent feature in her most secret fantasies for quite some time. However, the glint in Landa's eyes suggested that this private interview would be as far from Hammersmark's fantasies as was possible.

His eyes, so dark and dangerous, caught hers, and he smiled again, wider, snapping her from her thoughts. It was as though he could see straight into her soul, or hear her thoughts. She fought to keep up her cool, calm facade, and met Landa's eyes without flinching. His voice was a smooth as honey.

'Let me see your foot, Fraulein von Hammersmark.'
It was not a request, it was a command. Her eyes dropped, but she could still feel the Colonel's unrelenting gaze watching her. Her hand tightened around the arm of her chair. Stall him.

'I I beg your pardon?'
She put on her best tone of feminine shock, batting her eyelashes at him with a tone of innocent confusion. He simply patted his left thigh with the smile on his face widening, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world. His expression was full of knowing and mischief.

'Colonel, you embarrass me.'
She was reduced to using her best flirtatious voice, the one that had melted so many lesser men's hearts with ease. She could barely conceal the nervous quaver in her tone as she saw the hard resolve on his face, the look of absolute confidence which told her that, one way or another, Colonel Landa would have his way.

'Put your foot in my lap.' He spelled it out for her, the command in his voice even more evident. She briefly considered refusing him, even opening her mouth to snap back at him. But the look in his eyes told her that such a refusal would be very unwise. His smile faded slightly, as if he were growing weary of her games. He once again lifted his left arm, pointing with his index finger downwards, onto his knee. She was a deer caught in the headlights, and could do nothing but shift in her seat and raise her shaking, uninjured foot, resting it on his thigh.

His leg was warm and solid against the heat of her own skin; she realised with a chill running down her spine that this was the first time he had touched her beyond the courtesy of kissing her hand in social situations. She had absolutely no idea what was to come, which made her feel still more terrified and vulnerable.

With absolute precision and care, Landa undid the buckle of her silver stiletto. Her breath caught in her throat, and she was sure that he would hear the pounding of her heart. Painstakingly, Landa removed her shoe and placed it on the floor beside him, returning his gaze to hers with greater intensity. Her heart beat louder, the now bare foot upon his knee shaking slightly.

'Now, Fraulein, if you would please reach into my right coat pocket and take out what you find there?'
She stared at him for a moment, easing her racing heart, until he nodded to her in encouragement. Slowly, she turned in her seat, reaching into to deep recesses of the black coat's pocket, noticing that the coat smelled slightly of him of aftershave and leather and tobacco. For a brief moment, she was sure that nothing was in the pocket. She almost laughed in hysterical relief, until her fingers slipped against something hard and angular. She pulled her hand out slowly, uncomprehendingly, until she saw the object herself. A shoe.

Her shoe.

The floor seemed to disappear beneath her, and she was falling, helpless, the bile rising in her throat. She was a mouse, cornered by the cat. She knew it was over, and from the look of utter guilt on her face, it was a wonder that the Colonel even bothered to make her try the shoe on.

He took the heel from her shaking hand, his expression unreadable. Her foot glided into the shoe with ease, of course. He looked up in delighted triumph. Once again, the great detective had done his job well.

'What is that expression if the shoe fits, you must wear it?'
For a moment, his expression showed nothing but bemusement. Hammersmark, in that moment, dared to hope that everything would be alright. And then the amusement in his eyes vanished, the boyish smile gone. Suddenly. Hammersmark was facing the true Hans Landa. She gave one last attempt at nonchalance.

'What now, Colonel?'

He was motionless, staring directly into her eyes. Slowly, his face got redder, his fury mounting. He did not blink. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds, he moved. With a flick of his hand, her foot was knocked off his knee, the heel clattering against the floor. He straightened in his seat, taking a deep, measured breath. And still, his eyes did not waver from hers.

Suddenly, with a swiftness that Hammersmark did not think possible, he was leaning forward, hands tightening painfully around her wrists, pinning them into the arms of her chair. His face was inches from hers, and he was pressing her back into the chair unforgivingly, his legs pressing painfully into hers. She gave a low cry, struggling with all her might to break his iron grip. But Landa's strength was everything she had expected, and she could not move an inch. Her eyes fiilled with tears. Light headed now, she was absently aware of his smell, so much stronger now, the masculine scent intoxicating her, making her weaker.

'Traitor.' Landa snarled in her ear, his honey-coated tone completely forgotten, and for a moment he lost his carefully cultivated control. The passion in his voice... It made her moan and plead incoherently, and not just due to her fear.

'You will tell me every detail of your little operation, Fraulein von Hammersmark, starting from the moment you sold yourself out to the Allies.'

She blinked the tears out of her eyes, fighting to stay conscious. She looked up at his face, so close. The slight stubble on his chin, the vein pulsing in his forehead, his heaving breath. His voice in her ear... it was almost...

'It would be very unwise for you to keep me waiting, Bridget.'
It was the sound of him saying her name that broke her. Before she could think about what she was doing, Bridget von Hammersmark lent forward and kissed Colonel Landa, moaning against his lips. In his moment of absolute surprise, Landa released her trapped wrists. Hammersmark took advantage of this, reaching up to run her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. She was lost in her passion, kissing his face, his neck, breathing him in...

It took her a full twenty seconds to realise that Landa was not responding. He allowed her to continue her assault until she paused with this realisation, completely humiliated. With absolute formality, Colonel Landa extracted himself from her arms, stepping back and straightening his uniform with deliberate slowness. Following his initial shock, Landa had regained his mask of composure completely, with the exception that his renewed smile had an even greater look of triumph and satisfation to it.

Hammersmark, breathing heavily and looking up at him with a look of both lust and terror, realised her mistake. By revealing her feelings, she had simply given Landa another tool with which to extract information out of her. She was sure that Landa would use his new knowledge to make her will crumble beneath him.
He spoke again, as if nothing had happened, the smooth tone back.

'As I was saying, you will tell me of all of your dealings with the Allies, Fraulein. And you will tell me of anything else I choose to ask you.'

She had nothing left to hide from him. He knew her darkest secret, and he was going to use it against her.

'Stand up, please.' Landa requested, his smile full of arrogance and anticipation.

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