Falling Over You
There's a knock on the door but instead of Marcel's voice on the other side, it's Frederick's.
Shosanna is cold to him, but despite her rudeness, he continues to be stubborn and charming.
The film is terrible and he doesn't understand why nobody else can see that. Propaganda blotting out the terrible truth, victory and conquest disguising death and destruction.
The door is about to close in his face so he shoulders his way inside. His patience is gone, overshadowed by frustration and grief. All of these people, none of them matter. They hail him as a hero. But she is all he cares about. Does she feel nothing?
In desperation she plays along, asking him to close the door and quickly.
Knowing that it's too good to be true, he draws his Mauser HSc, holding it protectively to his chest as the lock slides home. He doesn't want to hurt her...
The shot burns as it rips into his flesh. He falls with a cry. Darkness clouds his vision and he sees so many faces. 300 dead. Is this how they'd felt?
Her anger has made her strong, but as he falls, she feels it leave her. In its wake is confusion, familiar pain mixed with regret. She'd shot him in the back, as thoughtless as the Jew Hunter himself. Feeling her chest tighten, she kneels beside him. He suffers and groans, and something inside of her breaks.
Mindful of his wound, she rolls him over. Dazed eyes meet hers as a pistol slips from his fingers. He isn't dead. She's gotten him in the shoulder. If he doesn't bleed to death, he might be alright.
His mouth opens, then closes. His voice is rough with misery as he whispers, "Emmanuelle..."
Eyes clenching shut, she hears reel four continue. Time is short, but she makes up her mind. Grasping his hand, she pulls him up and against her, supporting his weight with a draped arm over her shoulders. She leads him down to the basement and back up the stairs that open up into the alley.
He goes where she takes him, confused and woozy. He's bleeding, he can feel his uniform stick wetly to his back. She might very well be leading him away only to kill him, but her eyes say differently.
He's heavy, and she strains to keep him upright and moving. They make it two blocks up before the explosion hits, lighting up the sky with fire and screams.
As they watch the blaze consume everything it touches, Shosanna's victory feels hollow. The deaths of all the scum in the world will never bring her family back.
She has nothing now. Not Marcel, her theater, or her revenge. But she has him. She will take him home and get the bullet out of his shoulder. Then she will tell him everything. She's ready to face the consequences. Maybe he does care for her, and maybe that will be enough.