Disclaimer: I don't own TSOM, or any of its characters or lyrics. If I did I would need a time machine, because I definitely wasn't born before 1965.

Any reviews are appreciated, positive or not (as long as criticism is constructive).


"His eyes swear forever, flatter with vows of only me. But are they empty promises?...His eyes whisper secrets. But are they truths or fairy tales? I wonder if even he knows." - Ellen Hopkins, Tricks


Liesl slipped out of the side door, making sure her black shoes didn't click too loudly on the marble floor. She'd had enough practice with this. Every time her heart was ticking rapidly with nerves, but she was always careful.

Today has been such an odd day, She thought as she peeked behind her shoulder – just to make sure she hadn't been noticed. An odd day that brought along an odd governess. Liesl had yet to be fond of a single governess – they were either dreadfully stupid, dreadfully old and stern, or dreadfully jumpy and stressed. And the fact that they did everything her father was supposed to do – educate, care for, love his own children – made her hate them all the more… But this new one, Fraulein Maria, didn't seem to fit any of those boxes. She wasn't familiar, and so Liesl was worried. It might take longer to get rid of this one…

Think of happy things, Liesl. She shook her head, brown curls jostling against her shoulders. You don't want him to see you with a frown on your face, do you?

The thought of him – him waiting for her patiently by the white gazebo – instantly brought a smile to her face. Her skin seemed to tingle with warmth, and she set off across the lawn.

These moments, though usually far between, were what she looked forward to. In a household where strict marching was common but not laughter, where Father's icy indifference wasn't even surprising anymore, nights like this were wonderful. It wasn't often Liesl had someone's full attention, and when it was Rolfe's full attention...well, it was very nice indeed. At this age she sometimes felt so confused; filled with turbulent and uncertain feelings. She knew she wasn't a child anymore, and the unexplored world of womanhood seemed so sophisticated and wonderful, but frustratingly out of reach. It was hard, not having a mother to talk to about all the things she felt she ought to understand. But it was fine – she could find things out all on her own. I already am, with Rolfe. I'm learning how to be in love.

She reached the clearing in the middle of the grove of trees where the gazebo sat, like a delicate ornamental bird. Everything was tinted with a silver cast, the stars danced indolently in their orbits, and there, behind a tree, she could see Rolfe waiting.

"Rolfe!" His name, strong and somehow boyish at the same time, burst from her lips.

He looked up, his blue eyes shining. The moonlight turned his blond hair and his skin nearly pure white, and he looked godly and radiant and perfect. He stepped forward and Liesl ran to him and leaped into his arms. He embraced her back, his hold warm and safe.

Rolfe pushed her away slightly. "No, Liesl, we mustn't." Though his words were harsh, his voice was soft and half-hearted. Liesl knew he didn't really mean it. She had figured out by now how to tell when he was really and truly serious about something.

"Why not, silly?" she asked, trying to sound as angelic for him as possible.

His already not very stern expression wavered, and he shifted awkwardly. Liesl loved the way he looked when he was shy. She loved how he looked just about any time.

"I don't know," he said. "It's just that –"

"Isn't that why you're here?" She raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. She could tell he was a bit scared, but then, she was too. "Waiting for me?"

"Yes, of course," Rolfe answered quickly. The tips of his ears turned red with embarrassment. "I missed you, Liesl."

She smiled, not taking her eyes off of his face. Skin pale as cream, with wheat-blond hair and blue eyes like blown glass, dense but clear. He was so handsome sometimes she feared she might burst. "You have?" she asked coyly. "How much?"

He smiled. "So much, I almost thought of sending you a telegram, just so I could deliver it here."

Liesl's heart fluttered at his words. It sounded so romantic, like something a boy in a novel would say. "What a lovely thought!" she gasped, imagining a neat little telegram, sealed with a blue ribbon and with edelweiss attached. Dearest Liesl… "Why don't you?"

"But I'm here!"

She widened her eyes and looked up at his taller form, doing her best to look as pleading as she could. "Please, Rolfe. Send me a telegram. I'll start it for you: Dear Liesl."

"Dear Liesl," he repeated. She loved the way her name sounded coming from him, like a delicate, sugary thing on his tongue. "I'd like to be able to tell you how I feel about you, STOP." He said as he paced, looking nervous. Liesl watched in anticipation.

"Unfortunately, this wire is already too expensive. Sincerely, Rolfe." He finished teasingly.

Liesl felt disappointment prick at her. What if he didn't like (love) her as much as she liked (loved) him? But she wasn't about to give up yet. Not in a secluded clearing with a perfect boy, with whom it seemed possible to grab the stars. "Sincerely?" she pouted.

"Cordially," Rolfe's lips twitched in amusement.

"Cordially?" Liesl urged.

"Affectionately," he amended, seemingly too jittery to say what she wanted.

Affectionately, however, was good enough for Liesl, and she impulsively hugged him, burying her face in his chest. Her heart swelled in her throat as she suddenly felt his warm breath by her ear.

"Will there be any reply?" he whispered, his voice holding a devilish promise.

The unfamiliarity of his closeness was disconcerting, but alluring, too. She pulled back and looked into his blue orbs, her head feeling fuzzy. "Dear Rolfe, STOP." She said softly. "Don't stop! Your Liesl."

Looking up at him, she suddenly wished that they could see each other any time they wished. Although there was something terribly poetic and romantic about having to hide, she wanted more. She wanted to lead him around the city and fall in love amongst stone churches and arching fountains, and not give a single thought to what her overbearing father might say.

"I wish we didn't have to wait until someone sends Father a telegram," Liesl sighed. "How do I know when I'll see you again?"

The skin between Rolfe's eyebrows crinkled, the way it always did when he was thinking. "Well…I could come here by mistake. With a telegram for Colonel Schneider! He's here from Berlin – " His lips clamped shut and a sallow shade suddenly spread across his face. "No one's supposed to know he's here!" His voice dropped to a hiss. "Don't tell your father, now."

Normally Liesl wouldn't have worried too much, but his eyes were darker now, the blue of them like a bruise. "Why not?" she asked hesitantly.

Rolfe swallowed. "Your father's so…Austrian."

She laughed, though there was a hollow ring to it. She knew that patriotism wasn't so rewarded anymore in Austria, but not wanting to talk about such things, she merely said "We're all Austrians!"

"But some people think we ought to be German, and they're very mad at those who don't think so." He replied matter-of-factly. "They're planning to –" Here he stopped, biting his lip. The words hung fragmentary and dark in the air between them, but all he said was "Let's just hope your father doesn't get in trouble."

Liesl felt as if a thread of frost had snaked down her spine. For a while now the Germans had loomed, threatening and maniacal in the distance like a storm. She didn't understand all the details of the situation, cooped up in the villa most of the day, but she'd heard the staff whispering about "Anschluss". Did Rolfe know something? Surely he isn't… no, of course not. He carries telegrams for a living, it's reasonable that he should hear of things. It doesn't mean he works with them. Liesl thought of her father, distant and cold in his fancy suits and trips to the Baroness, and her mouth set in a firm line. No, she wouldn't tell her father, just as Rolfe had asked. Father dear didn't want to hear from her, anyway.

"Don't worry about Father," she replied, bringing another smile to her face. Unpleasant things like annexations and politics didn't belong in her saccharine little world of moon and secrets and Rolfe. "He's a big naval hero. He was even decorated by the Emperor."

"I don't worry about him." He suddenly closed one warm hand over Liesl's. "But I do worry about his daughter."

Every part of her body was humming. He worries, he cares! "Me? Why?"

"Well," he fumbled over his words. She could feel the pulse in his wrist beat against her fingertips. "You're so –"

"What?"

He laughed, his face turning pink. "Well, you're such a baby!"

Liesl felt disappointment course through her. A baby? That was the last thing she wanted to hear. Here she was, on the cusp of womanhood and childhood, and he was calling her a baby? "I'm sixteen. What's such a baby about that?"

Rolfe smiled tenderly. "You wait, little girl, on an empty stage, for fate to turn the light on. Your life, little girl, is an empty page that men will want to write on." He sang.

"To write on…" she echoed him, still a bit indignant from his "baby" comment. He may be sort of right. My life hasn't quite begun yet, but that's because I haven't yet had the chance, and I am prepared!

"You are sixteen, going on seventeen. Baby, it's time to think. Better beware, be canny and careful. Baby, you're on the brink." Rolfe stood up smartly and patted her shoulder. "You are sixteen going on seventeen, fellows will fall in line. Eager young lads and roués and cads, will offer you food and wine."

Liesl imagined being courted by all these men and smiled. He was trying to tease her, maybe scare her a little bit, but it didn't sound scary at all – it sounded sophisticated; idyllic.

He circled around behind her, grinning mischievously. "Totally unprepared are you to face a world of men."

Liesl looked behind her shoulder and her heart skipped at his sudden nearness. She instinctively leaned forward. There was only Rolfe and the moonlight spilling over the angles of his face, and the steady sound of his breath…

He swallowed and backed away, and the rest of the world rushed back into Liesl's focus. Nervous, are we? She thought, her heart still thudding. I'll get my kiss before the end of the night, Rolfe, just wait and see.

"Timid and shy and scared are you of things beyond your ken." He smiled teasingly and wagged a finger at her. "You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do. I am seventeen going on eighteen…I'll take care of you!" He put a hand to his chest in sincerity.

Liesl laughed and hugged him. She loved that he wanted to protect her, loved the way he made her feel like diaphanous-winged moths fluttered between her lungs; loved the feeling of his arms fitting perfectly around her. Oh, I love you. I want you beside me forever and ever. He spun her around, her gauzy skirt arcing in the air, then he stopped and held a warning finger in front of her face. He was just playing, she knew this. They always tended to run in circles around each other, so she played along. She crossed her arms, pouted. She grinned at the apologetic expression on his face, then tossed her head and started walking in the other direction.

The sky suddenly lit up, and Liesl felt something land on her head. Thunder grumbled and rain hit the bare skin of her arms in sharp splatters. Rolfe grabbed her hand and they ran into the gazebo as the rain began to fall harder and harder. He closed the doors, and she took a shuddering breath. They were alone. Together. Late at night, and they couldn't very well leave with the storm outside. Everything looked beautiful as the moonbeams hit the rivulets of water streaming down the glass walls that protected them. She smelled the clean, fresh, somehow melancholy scent of rain and every nerve in her body tingled.

Rolfe stood in front of the door, and time seemed frozen as Liesl looked at him. His strong chest rose and fell, every sloping angle of his form outlined with light from outside. His firm hands still clutched the door handles, and she saw her own tentative excitement mirrored by his features. The gazebo had become the entire world, and it was just her and Rolfe and the steady, absent pattering of rain.

Liesl was sixteen. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice high above the ground, gravity tugging on her, the stone beneath her feet steadily crumbling, and yet she was ready to fall. She wanted to know the ways of the world – and she had the feeling her knowledge was about to be expanded.

"I am sixteen going on seventeen. I know that I'm naive. Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet, and willingly I believe." She sang, and he grinned endearingly at her.

"I am sixteen, going on seventeen, innocent as a rose. Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies. What do I know of those?" She smiled at him, hoping to let him know she wasn't quite as naïve as she appeared.

Liesl walked towards him, hands behind her back. "Totally unprepared am I, to face a world of men. Timid and shy and scared am I, of things beyond my ken." She leaned towards him and began climbing her fingers up his shoulder.

Rolfe's face flushed and he turned the other way, but Liesl dashed in front of him and jumped onto the bench. She noted the impressed look on his face and continued to sing.

"I need someone older and wiser telling me what to do." Here she grew a bit shy. "You are seventeen going on eighteen. I'll depend on you."

Rolfe's expression softened with happiness. Liesl leaned forward, confident that this was the moment. Blood hummed to the surface of her skin. She wanted so much to understand the intricacies of love and relationships, and this, this kiss, would be one step closer...

She leaned too far forward and began to fall, the moment broken. But he caught her in his arms, and without even thinking about it, they began to dance. He held her hand as they ran in circles around the gazebo, they twirled and she grew dizzy. The rain dribbled against the glass, seeming to echo their heartbeats. They danced together and then apart, and finally they were sitting at opposite sides of the gazebo, their breathing heavy.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

There they sat, both of them so young, so clumsily inexperienced, and for the moment locked together in this world where Liesl didn't have to be constrained in a drab uniform and could instead be a lovely thing of light and air. Never mind their two realities poised on the periphery of this little world, waiting to remind them about the less-than-fairytale things that surrounded them. The only thing that mattered right now was the pull between them; so intimate and thrilling and grown-up, but foreign and disquieting, too.

Liesl's nerves overtook her then; she felt like each one was yarn unraveling into anxious threads. They stood up, and tentatively danced. Without warning he was right in front of her, their lips close enough that one move would turn into a kiss. She wanted to kiss him so badly, but she was frightened, too. They moved away again, but inevitably found themselves facing each other.

His pulse – or maybe it was her own – was loud in her ears, drowning out even the rain. The world blurred, and suddenly his mouth was over hers, his warm hands on either side of her face. She tasted peppermint on his lips, and her entire mind seemed filled with light, and the world seemed like a dazzling, unrestricted place of wonder and love. And all because of him, because the world was him and his mouth and his warmth -

Rolfe pulled back. They stared into each other's eyes – blue meeting blue – and then his face turned scarlet and he ran, out of the gazebo and into the pounding rain. Liesl was impossibly, deliriously happy, and she squealed with joy.

He loves me!