Finding Love in France (Alternate Version)

Part 20: Regret

Mila sat in the bathtub and cried. She knew this was coming. She knew that she was just a welcome distraction for him. She knew his heart belonged to someone else. But it didn't change the way she felt about him. What the hell was she thinking? She had seen the glamorous woman's photo in his compass. He told her plenty of stories about how smart, interesting, and tough Peggy was. Mila knew she could never compete with someone like Peggy Carter. She was a refugee, barely recovered from her time in the camp, and without another friend in the world, now that Abe Erskine was dead. She had started to like the idea of meeting the Allies, trying to work for Howard Stark even. But how could she do that in the same place he was going to be reunited with his Peggy? She was heartbroken and angry at herself for thinking she would ever be anything to him other than a friend. Then she got angry at him. Why did he let her believe that they were more? Since that first night together, they were inseparable. She slept in his arms, listened to him talk about his dreams, truly helped him come to terms with his abilities. She was angry that she fell for every word he said, when he told her how he couldn't stop thinking about her. When he thanked her all the time for being so much fun. When he kissed her good night, every night, so sweetly. She was so hurt and angry and confused.

Steve stayed at the pond to give Mila time to herself. That's what women wanted, right? He felt terrible about hurting her, but he couldn't lie about Peggy. Bucky once told him that sometimes it was kinder to leave out the details to spare someone's feelings. Maybe he had a point, but it still felt like lying to him, and he couldn't lie to Mila. Not after everything she'd done for him. If Peggy was still alive, he needed to make sure things were over. He was already terrified thinking about how to explain himself and his affair to Peggy. If Bucky was alive, he'd know what to do. God, he missed him.

After a few hours, Steve put out the fire, cleaned up the picnic, and headed back to the house. He had to face Mila eventually.

She had fallen asleep in the empty tub, but woke up when she heard the back door to the house close. She wasn't ready to see him, but he gave her no choice when he walked into the bathroom and found her there. She decided in that instant that she would not let him see how badly he hurt her. "Oh, you're back! Did you remember to put the fire out?" She got out of the tub and stretched, avoiding eye contact.

"Mila..." he put a hand on her shoulder. "...are you okay?...Are we okay?" He really wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but thought it best not to.

"I'm fine. We are fine, Steve." She lied. "Is it dinner time? You must be starving." She walked past him towards the kitchen. "Did you finish the hot dogs, or do I need to cook them before they spoil?" She started puttering around the kitchen.

"Mila, I'm sorry." He bit his lip, trying not to let his guilt get the better of him. "You've been so good to me, I couldn't lie to you..." he walked up behind her and tried to rub her shoulders.

She ducked. "That is very admirable, Steve. Thank you for sparing my feelings..." she sniffed. "However, you do not get to try and comfort me now. That is not how these things work." She still refused to look him in the eye.

She finished preparing dinner and ate hers standing at the sink. She washed her plate and remembered the last surprise she had for him. Retrieving her medical bag, she pulled out a small cardboard box. Inside was an apple tart. She stuck a small candle in it, lit it, and dropped it on the table in front of him. "It's the closest thing to apple pie we've got...happy birthday, Steve. I'm going to sleep in the living room tonight."