Finding Love in France

Part 3: Triage

After dragging the soldier almost 20km back to her safe house, Dr. Mila Abrams was exhausted.

But her work was just beginning.

She heaved the still unconscious man into the bathtub and started to rinse the dirt and blood off his haggard form. His dog tags read "Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. US Army"

"Good god, when was the last time you washed?" she muttered, noticing the water running off him turning dark brown from the mix of grime and dirt and blood flowing down the drain. The man groaned and tried to turn his head.

"Sergeant Barnes, please try not to move until I can better assess your injuries."

At the sound of her accented voice, the man started screaming again "NO! Fuck you! Fuck Hydra! Just kill me! Let me die!"

Mila was confused at his outburst, but this man had clearly been triggered by her accent, she tried to reassure him "Sergeant Barnes, I am not Hydra. My name is Dr. Mila Abrams. I am here to help you. You were ambushed near the border. I am just trying to help you."

"NO! NO! Let me die! I won't go back there! Let me die here! Noooooo!" the man began to wail.

"Sergeant Barnes, you are safe. You are in France. You are in a French Resistance safe house. I am only trying to help you, sir." she pleaded, while trying to keep him in the tub.

He was at least a head taller than her, and by the looks of him, a good 20-30 kilograms heavier, and while clearly in need of some decent meals, obviously strong.

But she was stronger.

That was not the point right now. She had to clean and suture his wounds, and he was not helping.

The therapeutic approach was not working. She went with plan B.

"SERGEANT BARNES! SIT STILL! I NEED TO GET SOME OF THIS FILTH OFF YOU BEFORE I CAN ATTEND TO YOUR WOUNDS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

The man froze.

"Yes, ma'am" he said weakly.

She managed to finish rinsing him off before he passed out again.