Finding Love in France (Alternate Version)

Part 3: Introductions

After carrying the soldier almost 20km back to her safe house, Mila was exhausted. But the hard work was only beginning.

She heaved the unconscious man into the bathtub and started to rinse the dirt and blood off his gigantic form. Thankfully, his wounds were not bleeding as heavily as she had expected, most of the blood washing off him was already dried. As she tried to assess the damage, the man's eyes fluttered and he tried to get out of the tub.

"Captain Rogers? Can you hear me? Please try to stay still while I clean your wounds." She struggled to keep the large man in the cast iron tub.

At the sound of her accented voice, the man muttered "Where am I?"

Mila tried to report matter-of-factly
"Captain Rogers, you are safe. You are in a French Resistance safe house. I am the doctor trying to help you, sir." she pleaded, while attempting to keep him in the tub.

He was still struggling, but exhaustion was getting the better of him. He eventually lost consciousness again, making wound care easier for Mila.

She pulled 3 bullets out of his left leg, one out of his left hip, 2 from his left upper arm and one that had lodged between his ribs; seven total. After she sutured the gun shot wounds, she tried to approximate the laceration to his scalp and carefully suture the thin skin back together.

Once she had him clean and bandaged, she dressed him in some spare clothes and carried him down to the reinforced bunker below the modest farmhouse. She put him to bed sitting up, with pillows under his arm and leg to try and minimize swelling. After injecting him with multiple doses of penicillin, she pulled a chair next to the bed and curled up.

She was concerned about his head wound and wanted to try and check on him often, except she fell asleep.

It was dark when she awoke with a start. Someone had grabbed her arm and was shaking her.

"Who are you?!" He was reeling from the concussion and in a fair bit of pain.

"You're awake!" Mila tried to reassure him. "Captain Rogers, my name is Dr. Mila Abrams, and I work with the French Resistance. You and your men were ambushed just past the border. Good to meet you, sir." She stuck out her free hand to shake.

He relaxed his grip on her arm and shook her hand. "Sorry, ma'am...it's been one hell of a day..." He cleared his throat and asked the obvious. "Are you German?"

"Yes, sir. Born and raised in Berlin..." she paused. "...until I was deported."

"Deported? I'm not sure I understand, ma'am." He was trying to make sense of his situation.

"Sir, my family is Jewish. We are not exactly welcome in the reich..." she looked away, hoping she didn't have to go into detail.

"So they sent you to France? That sounds nice, actually." He tried to laugh, but it hurt.

"Unfortunately, Captain, that was not the case..." she was too tired to get into this. "...but it is time for you to get some rest. I will be just at the top of the stairs should you need anything."

"Thank you, Doctor. Get some rest." He could barely keep his eyes open.

"Good night, Captain."