I don't own Sound of Music.

So, this came from the fact that my high school is doing SOM this year and one of my best friends is the Captain and I'm Max. And we would kid about the subtext of Max and Georg's relationship (Max pulls Georg's attention away from Elsa sometimes, Georg allows Max to freeload, etc.) And my friend decided to write a little song about that relationship. Not to be bested, I decided to write a little reply. Just made year/date edits.

Hope you enjoy.

… Switzerland is tolerable, though I hope we can leave soon. The authorities are processing are immigration forms as quickly as possible. America is the safest place for us, Maria keeps telling me. But what will I be there? Not a Captain, not a Baron. But with the baby on its way and all the children- we have to do what's best for us all.

I'm glad that you're still alive, that's something at least. I'll wire you some more money, but I must be careful. No doubt, the Nazis have people watching you. And me. Please, be careful. Do you know when you're getting out? If there's anything I can do, please, tell me, Max.

Truly,

Georg

Max Detweiller held the letter delicately. The clear, impassioned handwriting made his heart soar. He was lying on his thin cot, a stiff blanket insufficiently keeping the warmth close to his ever-growing thinner body, but it didn't matter. The Dachau winter couldn't squelch the soft candle of light in his heart. Giving a glance to the door (one could never know when a Nazi officer was watching), Max pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from under his pillow and began writing in the cold, dim light.

Dear Georg,

As always, your money is the most appreciated aspect of this relationship. It is the only thing that keeps me going; and these letters. Most of your wires go straight to the officers as a bribe. Most, at least.

I'm glad the Swiss are as welcoming as we believed them to be. When you can, contact Herr Fitzsimmons. He's Minister of Taxation and has many friends in high places; he can help you (plus, he has an excellent wine cellar, though nothing compared to yours, of course). I wish Maria well, I truly do. It's been far too long since the last Von Trapp birth and I can hardly picture you without a small child in your arms. I remember when you and Agathe first brought back Liesel. That absurdly proud smile you wore while you paraded her about like the brightest medal you'd ever won. It seems so long ago, like it was someone else's life. I feel so spent, Georg. So old. Hard to believe I turn forty this year. I feel like only yesterday, we were young, a valient young naval officer and a conniving politician. Ready to take Austria by storm.

Dachau isn't nearly as bad as I believed. Sure, it's more or less a living hell, but they give me my cigarette and brandy rations all the same, so I can't complain. I'm starting to charm my way out of this situation, I believe. It helps that I actually didn't know anything beforehand.

Max paused for a moment, his hand beginning to ache. Of course, it wasn't totally true. The officers here were cruel, very cruel. The interrogations often included severe beatings that left Max dazed and breathless for days. But what use would it be getting Georg upset over something he couldn't control? Max began to cough violently into his arm, his body retching to be free of this sickness. It had been a few days since the cough came. But it had gotten so much worse. Surprisingly, Max didn't care anymore.

Georg, you existed outside your titles long before the war, how should this be any different? When I first met you, I had no idea you were a Baron: I only knew you were rich and that was good enough for me. No, you were only Georg and the Americans should be proud to get just that.

I'm not sure when I'll be getting out. Though they seem to be letting up on me, they make no indication that they are going to free me. Elsa wrote to me the other day, she says she is doing all she can to secure my freedom. The little darling. Though I honestly believe her, I'm beginning to doubt if I shall ever be free again.

Oh, Georg, I miss you. I miss you desperately. How could I ever ask you to compromise? There is no compromise with these mad men, only right and wrong. Heaven knows which is which anymore. Oh, but you knew. You always knew what was right. I'm so sorry I ever doubted you.

Remember that first night? In Vienna? August, 1917. It was your shipping out party. Everyone was there and it was beautiful. Elsa and Agathe, caught up in that flapper trend in feathers and sequins. The band played something quick and hot, the singer's voice was smoky in the air. I drank too much champagne, but you didn't care. We danced and I thought I was flying. I couldn't breathe, but you helped me stand. The girls went to freshen up and we waited for them on the roof.

In those moments of solitude, you held my hand and told me to wait for you. Do you remember, Georg? Your eyes were so green, it was lovely. I cried that night on the roof, under the black sky, and you kissed me, trying to make it better. Later, after we walked the girls home, you took me to your apartment and we made love for the first time. I cried then too. Not because you were cruel, but because I knew, as I've always known, that I would never have you. Truly have you.

Oh Georg, sometimes I think about everything that has happened. Did we really make those choices, or was it someone else? Agathe was lovely, and I know what she meant to you, but I hated her. I hated her because she loved you and you loved her back. When she died, I'm sorry, Georg, but I was happy. And when Elsa made her plans, well- It seemed like the perfect solution. She knew there was someone else in your life, though she never knew it was me (she often complained about how often Georg left to see the "other woman"- ha! I quite like that name, "the other woman"). I had hoped we could've reached some understanding, some way to go on privately.

But then Maria came. I know you love her, and she's really quite amazing- But Georg. I hate you for her. You married her without even telling me- I wasn't even allowed at the wedding! And then you left on your two month honeymoon, leaving me with the kids and an empty bed.

Mas stopped, tears making his eyes glassy and his hand shake. Oh yes, sometimes he hated Georg. Like when Georg hated him. Max didn't mean to hold a grudge against Maria- she saved George and the children, he owed her. But she had taken the greatest treasure of his life from him, as Elsa and Agathe had done before her, so he had to hate her.

Georg, forgive my resentment. I have had a year of pain and solitude, with only your letters as comforts. I don't mean what I say Georg, you know me. I'm a politician with no political convictions.

Have the children sing the Edelweiss song, for me- the on you sang when we stayed in that cabin on the mountain in '19. That was a lovely summer; I dream of it often. Give Maria my love. And thank Brigetta for the book and the letter- Steinbeck will be a much appreciated break form this hellhole (Georg, you're letting the girl read Fitzgerald? How progressive of you).

Keep my in your prayers. You always occupy mine.

Forever Yours,

Max