Mila walked down the sidewalk, her house coming into view farther down the street. She didn't know how long she'd been walking for. Truthfully, she'd been on autopilot since she'd walked out the Lingards' front door. She hadn't paid attention to how many turns she'd made, or streets she'd crossed. She'd just kept walking, and had somehow ended up on the familiar cobblestone her heels now clicked against.

She'd went from terrified, to angry, to numb in the course of her's and Catherine's meeting. Catherine had been right, of course ... Even if Mila hadn't wanted to admit it. She couldn't tell Josef about the pregnancy ... She'd known that all along. But the finality of hearing it from someone else had cut deeper than she'd ever thought it would. It was ridiculous for her to mourn something she'd never had to begin with. Catherine had been right about that too. The best life she could ever hope for with Josef was nothing more than a disillusioned idea she'd manifested in her head. An idea she'd allowed herself to believe could be real ... Allowed herself to fall in love with.

Shuffling up the front steps of her house, she pulled her key out of her purse. Turning the key in the lock, her front door clicked open, and she stepped inside. She slipped off her coat, hanging it, along with her purse, on the hook beside the door. Turning around, she jumped in surprise, her eyes falling on the figure seated in her kitchen.

"Josef..." She trailed off, confused. He sat, unmoved, at the kitchen table, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes trained on the hardwood in a blank stare. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you remember that German officer who was shot in the west village a few months ago?" He began, his eyes still tracing the wooden grooves of the floor. "Well," He continued without giving her a chance to answer. "I was looking back over the evidence when I found something." He looked up at her for the first time since she'd walked through the door. His gaze was forlorn - empty. She took a cautious step forward. Something wasn't right. "Did you know the only thing found at the scene was a locket?" He pressed on. Holding up his left hand, which had been closed tightly in a fist, he opened it, a glint of gold catching Mila's eye as a necklace chain dropped out of his palm, hanging from the finger it was looped around. Her locket. "This locket ... Which looks a lot like the one your mother gave you."

"Jos-," She began, her stomach twisting into a gut wrenching knot.

"I thought I was crazy for the thought even crossing my mind," He cut her off, standing to his feet. The deathly calm facade he had held until now was beginning to crack. "So I came here, but you weren't home," He explained, dropping the locket onto the kitchen table. "I thought I'd have a quick look around ... find the locket ... prove my suspicions wrong."

"You went through my things?" She asked, a lump forming in her throat.

"But I didn't find any locket. Instead, I found this," He continued without acknowledging her question. Reaching behind him, he pulled her gun out of the waistband of his pants. "Did you know this is a British Military issued revolver ... and the same type of gun used to kill Officer Weber," He said, his tone deathly calm again.

"Jos-," She tried to speak but was interrupted again.

"Officer Weber," He repeated her attacker's name through gritted teeth. "That was his name. The man you killed."

"Josef..."

"Who are you?" He asked.

"You know who I am," She swallowed down the lump in her throat and took a step forward.

"No," he cut in again. "I only thought I did ... So I'll ask again, who are you? Who are you?!" He spat out in a loud yell, pointing the revolver at her.

"Mila ... Mila Goldstein," She choked out, cowering away reflexively from his booming voice.

"You're Jewish?" He asked, disbelievingly.

"Half Jewish ... My mother was Dutch," She paused, contemplating how much she should say. Deciding there was no reason to hold back anymore, she continued. "Vanderwall was her maiden name."

"Tell me," He began, his tone thick with disdain, the barrel of the gun still firmly pointed in her direction. "How does a Jewish-Dutch girl become a British informant? I presume that's what you are, correct?"

"It's quite a long story," She said, stepping forward in Josef's direction. "So either shoot me, and get it over with, or put the gun down."

"Go on," He said, all but slamming the gun down on the kitchen table.

"My father and brother weren't killed in an automobile accident," She began slowly, drawing in a deep breath. "They were murdered by Gestapo," She paused, her words echoing through the silence that fell over the room. She inhaled sharply, drawing herself up to her fullest height before continuing. "When Poland fell, we knew it wouldn't be long before Holland followed suit. When Holland was invaded, all working, Jewish men were made to register. My sister and I didn't have to ... At least not right away. My father was able to secure papers for us with our mother's last name-,"

"Forged papers," He cut in.

"So," She pressed on. "When the rest of the Jewish population was made to register, we were spared. We lived in the boarding house above the clinic posing as orphans my father had taken in. No one asked any questions and anyone who knew the truth knew better than to say a word."

"That doesn't explain how you became a spy," He said, his eyes trained on her in a contemptous glare.

"Everyone knew my father ... He was the best doctor in the city. Everyone came to his clinic - even the Germans," She explained. "So when the Jews were rounded up and forced out, he was allowed to stay ... I suppose they thought him useful," She shook her head at the thought. "My father knew his value was decreasing by the day. He knew it wouldn't be long before he and my brother were shipped off to a ghetto themselves, leaving my sister and I alone. So ... He struck up a deal."

"What kind of deal?" He asked, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

"In exchange for mine and my sister's safe passage to England, he would spy on German officials who came into his office for treatment," She explained, speaking fluidly now, the lump in her throat having dropped back down to her stomach. "Everything went according to plan for nearly a year. But then..." She paused, biting her cheek in an effort to keep her tone business-like. "The Brit my father worked for was discovered. The Gestapo captured him and tortured him for information ... I'm told he lasted twenty-eight hours before giving up my father's name ... I suppose they meant that as some sort of consolation," She added bitterly. "They were at our door in less than an hour ... My sister and I watched from above the clinic as our father and brother were drug out into the street ... They were pushed down onto their knees and shot in the back of the head," She recounted the events of that day robotically, doing her best to remain disassociated from the trauma it had left in its wake.

"I knew we couldn't stay there, so we went to the safe house we had been instructed to go to if something like this were to ever happen. They kept their word ... We were each given a ticket on a steam ship destined for London," She shook her head slightly, lost in the memory. "But I couldn't go ... I couldn't run away, and let everything my father had worked for be lost. So, I stayed and took my father's place ... I had just received my assignment when you showed up at my door."

"Why didn't you kill me?" He asked flatly.

"I thought about it," She said, meeting his gaze for the first time since she'd started speaking. "I could never bring myself to do it."

"Yet you can shoot a German officer and leave him to bleed out in an alley," He blurted out accusingly.

"He attacked me!" She shot back, a mixture of anger and hurt swelling up inside her. "He would've raped me and left me to bleed out in that alley!" He had been there after it happened ... Had seen the cuts and bruises Officer Weber had given her. How could he stand there and defend the very man he'd encouraged her to report to authorities the night it had happened. "I didn't have a choice..." She added in a whisper, glimpses of Officer Weber's bloody body flashing through her head. She shut her eyes, pushing the thoughts away.

"I'm such a fool," Josef shook his head.

"What?" She asked, opening her eyes to look at his properly. His back was turned to her and he had walked a few paces away.

"I fell for you ... Fell in love with you ... And this whole time it's been a game," He ran a hand though his hair, his tone thick with disgust.

"No-" She argued, the lump returning to her throat.

"Then what has it been Mila?" He yelled, turning to face her.

"None of this was supposed to happen," She shook her head, tears burning her eyes. "You were supposed to leave ... I was never supposed to see you again."

"But you did," He bit back. "And you've been using me for information ever since."

"At first I was," She admitted. "But then-then something changed ... Everything changed."

"Oh spare me Mila!" He yelled, shaking his head scathingly. "Tell me ... Did they tell you to sleep with me or was that entirely your idea?"

"It wasn't like that!" She pleaded, trying desperately to make him understand. "I thought I could separate myself ... Thought I could draw a line between my job and my feelings for you."

"You should've gotten on that boat with your sister," He shook his head, rubbing a frustrated hand over his mouth. "Christ, you should've gotten as far from this place as possible."

"I never meant to hurt you," She said quietly, a single tear gliding down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, clenching her jaw to keep from breaking down entirely.

"Go," He said, his gaze falling back on her. The anger his eyes previously held, had been replaced with a hollow indifference.

"What?" She asked breathlessly.

"Go ... Leave," He repeated. "Go to your contact and tell them you've been made ... Tell them you want out - I don't care what you tell them... Just make them get you on the next ship out of Holland."

"Why are you doing this?"

"A life for a life," He said flatly, now refusing to look at her. "And now that my debt to you is paid, I don't want to see you again." With that, he strode past her towards the door.

"Josef," She called, silently pleading for him to turn and look at her. He paused at the door, turning his head to the side, though his eyes didn't meet her's. "When I said I had fallen in love with you," She continued earnestly. "I meant it." They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity until, finally, Josef turned the knob and opened the door.

"Goodbye Mila," He said, as the door closed behind him.