Finding Love in France (Alternate Version)

Part 7: Routine

The American picked at the reheated food and went back to sleep without issue. He slept for the next 2 days. During this time, Mila tried to get back to her daily routine. Or at least, what she did when she wasn't rescuing super soldiers.

The safe-house was actually a small farm in the northeastern French countryside. Since her arrival, she had been busy trying to get the gardens back in order and care for the animals. The house had cold running water but no electricity. There was a wood stove in the kitchen that needed a steady supply of fuel, so she also had to chop wood regularly. When necessary, she went on missions with the local resistance unit and tended to any medical needs in the nearby village. She would often joke to herself that university and medical school had left her ill-prepared for much of what she did these days.

She was replaying her most recent interaction with her patient while she picked tomatoes. He was devastated at the loss of his friends. She knew only what she had read in briefing files about him, so this was extremely personal. While she was cleaning up and making her way back to the house, she tried not to think about her own losses.

Once back, she quickly checked on the sleeping man and started boiling water for a hot bath. Just as she was slipping into the tub, she heard him wake up and start thinking. She rested her head on her arms against the side and listened intently.

He was thinking about her.

"Who is this lady doctor? How does she know Erskine? Can I trust her? How are we going to find out about Peggy or Bucky if coms are down? What's her story? What are those numbers on her arm? She must have been horrified by my actions earlier...I know I was. Damn it, my head is killing me..."

Mila had planned on soaking for a while, but instead got out to dry off and get back to work. When she was getting dressed, she heard something clambering outside the bathroom.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry! Didn't know you were in there..." Steve was turning purple and limping back to the kitchen.

"No worries, Captain Rogers. Just having a bath before starting dinner." She laughed when he couldn't look her in the eye. "Really? Might I remind you that you are wearing different clothes than when I found you?..." she shook her head and laughed harder at his increasing embarrassment. "Relax, Captain. I'm a doctor, remember? Nothing I haven't seen before." Then she realized where he was. "You've made it upstairs! How are you feeling?"

"Pretty sore, but in one piece, ma'am..." he smiled a little. "Thank you for laughing instead of slapping my face, by the way."

"Why in the world would I do that? And please stop calling me ma'am, you make me sound old!" She started puttering around the kitchen.

"Sorry, Doctor. Where I'm from, a guy walks in on a half-naked lady, he usually gets in some trouble." He nervously ran his hands through his hair until he hit the head wound and winced.

She noticed the wince and had him sit down. "I would offer you an aspirin or some morphine, but I don't think there's enough in this entire village to have any effect on you. Sorry..."

"Yeah, ever since this..." he looked down at his body "...it's been a crap shoot on that stuff. Can't even get drunk anymore, for some reason."

"It's your metabolism." She replied.

"My what?" He looked concerned.

"Your metabolism." She realized he had no idea what she meant. "Nothing to worry about except for when you are trying to drown your sorrows or numb pain. Your body, this new body, processes things much faster than before. If I were to give you an aspirin, your body would have broken down the chemicals and used them up before you could feel anything. Same goes for alcohol, I'm afraid." She smiled.

"Is that why I'm so hungry all the time?" He joked.

"Exactly. Now let me work on getting you fed, soldier." She laughed.

"Need help? Not much of a cook, but I can try." He was trying to take his mind off things.

"You sit and keep me company, yes?" She didn't want him to break anything in the already spartan kitchen.

"Fair enough, Doctor."