Velvet Waltz [An Inglourious Basterds fic]

Alignment

"I have something for you," Hans dangled over the breakfast table.

Sylvia laid down her fork. You could never be too suspicious of Hans' surprises.

"Put out your hand," he commanded.

She obeyed.

With exaggerated smoothness, he reached over the breakfast dishes and dropped a wadded gum wrapper in Sylvia's hand, then sat back for the explosion.

"WHAT?? You...but he...HOW?!! Hans, you SAW HIM??"

"You think I could investigate the L'Etoile blast without interviewing every witness?" He feigned insult.

Sylvia tucked the wrapper into her skirt pocket. "Hans, so help me god...if I find out you..."

"My dear girl, have I ever harmed one single hair on your pretty head?" She felt the charm knob turning up. She glanced away.

"Those are my comrades, Hans. They're your enemies, but if you...please don't hurt them. For me. That's all."

"On my honor," Hans replied.

What an interesting choice to swear on.

"So you spoke to Alain, then."

"I did. He's well. He misses you."

A sudden pang struck her, as she realized the enormous loss of her former life, vocation, friends, and freedom. A knot in her throat.

Hans' voice became low, conspiratorial. "Would you like to see him?"

"See him? How? It's too dangerous."

"Let him come here."

Sylvia shook her head vigorously. "I'm not putting him in danger."

"Supposed he just happens to come by one day, on business. Who would question it?"

She stood and pushed in her chair. "Why are you so adamant that he come here?"

"Because I already gave him the address."

Sylvia's jaw set in a way he had learned to watch out for.

"Don't be petulant. I'm above suspicion, Fraulein. Another comfort of my home you're welcome to enjoy."

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Sure enough, later that afternoon while Sylvia was alone, the doorbell chimed.

Creeping down the stairs, she peeked through the sitting room window at the figure on the stoop. Then ran to open the door.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle, would you like to renew your subscription to Signal?" Alain chirped.

She pulled him inside and locked the door before spinning him across the living room in a hug.

"My love!" He held her face in his hands. "That ghastly old kraut wasn't lying after all!"

She cringed at "ghastly old kraut" but recovered quickly. "And what have you been up to?"

"Oh, they've got me slinging newspapers, pure propaganda." He paused. "Oh, god, love, what have they done to you?"

"Alain, I don't know where to start, everything's gone wrong, the safe house, the bookstore, and—"

"I know all that, I meant" – he let a lock of her not-quite-brown hair fall from his fingers.

She slugged his arm. "Sit. We have to debrief."