IMPORTANT A/N:

Hello everyone! First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for all the feedback on this fic! I'm very humbled that so many people decided to click on this little work and give it a read. Secondly, I'd like to address some reviews I've been getting regarding this fic: people seem to be under the impression that this is a multi-chapter fic and not a collection of oneshots. I've been getting many reviews stating how lovely this work is (thank you so much!) but that the second chapter was too much of a rush to the end. And I 100% agree that if you look at the two chapters as one work, the story is rushed. But these two chapters -and all the works after it- are to be read not as chapters of one story, but as separate oneshots in a collection of AUs revolving around Maria and Georg. This was my original plan for this collection and continues to be the plan, as you can see if you read the summary of my story (note that I use the term "met" in the summary loosely). If anyone has any further questions, let me know and I'd be happy to answer them! Thank you so much for your constructive criticism and lovely words of advice! I'm sorry to have confused some of you.

And now, without any further ado, onto the next AU oneshot in this collection.


Title: a girl who will never be a nun (and a man who will make sure of it).

Oneshot Title: mother teresa, george and maria.

Summary: Her head jerks towards him, before looking fiercely down at the paper. Then back to him. Finally, she grinds out, "you've got to be kidding me." There's a disbelieving look on her face. Georg sheepishly shrugs; "surprise?"


a girl who will never be a nun (and a man who will make sure of it).

story iii: mother teresa, george and maria.

by clarabella wandering.


The 1980s are loud and chaotic and a little worrying, and so Georg thinks it suiting that he meets her in this same fashion.

The daylight is blinding as he steps out onto the London street, crowds bustling around him, words of profanity and strange insults reaching his ears as he ducks his head to try and ignore the frankly annoying volume of noise and surge of people who fall into step behind him. Newspaper stands line the sidewalk, bearing headlines like Thatcher: Terrified or Totally Confident? and Pope John Paul II's Secret!, and lastly, President Ronald Reagan - The Evils of Communism.

It's while he's scanning this headlines that she collides into him, and they both go flying to the floor, people squeaking as they step aside to avoid them but not to help.

"Jesus Christ!" Georg exclaims as he tries to sit up only to find that he can't because of a very surprising weight keeping him down. All he can see is a head of blonde hair, and then suddenly the head moves, sitting up so he can see the face that belongs to it, and he goes quiet. Blue eyes frame a pale face and when she stands and clears her throat he sees cute shorts and a tucked in graphic t-shirt that reads Be Not Afraid with a picture of John Paul II plastered on it. Catholic, then. Or a fan. And, judging from the blush on her cheeks, Catholic (or a fan) and embarrassed. There's also a monstrously giant tote bag on her arm.

"I am so sorry," the girl says, and then she's off, talking rapid fire and rambling so much that all Georg can do is nod vaguely and pretend he's keeping up. Eventually, it becomes clear that the flow of her speech is never-ending, so he cuts in-

"-I'm sorry, too."

That shuts her up, and she looks at him surprised, as if no one's ever apologized to her in her entire life. Odd.

"I wasn't watching where I was going," Georg elaborates, "my fault..."

She waits, thinking he's going to continue. Georg bites his tongue, the sarcastic comment dying on his lips at the fact that he was most obviously waiting for her to say her name. "I'm Georg, by the way," he extends a hand. "Georg von Trapp."

"Oh!" the girl extends her hand as well, and she shakes his firmly and with a little too much enthusiasm. He can't bite back the smile this time. "I'm Maria Abess. Sorry about running into you; I was trying to catch Mother Teresa. I've probably lost her now, though..."

This piques Georg's interest. "Mother Teresa? As in, the Mother Teresa?"

Maria grins, "the one and only."

"Jesus Christ; no way, she's not here, is she?"

"She is!" Maria nods, "I was heading up to where she was set to be, but now I've probably missed her... and I'm too short to see over the crowd and check. That's why everyone heading the opposite direction of you, see?"

"Oh my God," Georg says, "this is so cool."

"Do you want to come with me and see if we can still catch her?" Maria asks him, lifting a brow.

Georg hesitates. And then he nods.

Just like that, Maria is off, walking far faster than he thought she should be able to walk (she's short, alright?) and then an idea strikes him, and he calls out, "Maria! Good Lord; Abess!"

Spinning around, Maria taps her foot impatiently, and when he arrives by her side, she asks, "yeah?"

"Climb on my shoulders."

She does a double take. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Georg shrugs, "so you can see over the crowd and tell me where to go."

Her eyes widen in realization and she says, "whoa, good idea, George!"

"Georg."

"That's what I said."

"No," Georg shakes his head, "no, it's G-" he sighs, "you know what, never mind. Just get on." He squats awkwardly and feels her clamber up (much more gracefully than he would've thought able) his back and onto his shoulders, he grabs her ankles firmly and feels her legs tighten around his neck. This is going to be wild. "See anything?"

"No... Oh!" Maria exclaims, excited, as Georg begins to speed walk, dutifully ignoring the looks the Londoners are giving them.

"For God's sake, Maria, spit it out."

"You know," Maria says, thoughtful, "you should probably stop using God's name in vain, considering we're about to meet a future saint."

"She's already a saint."

"Can't be a canonized saint unless you're dead."

"Who made that rule?"

"The Church."

"... Oh."

He goes silent, incensed that Maria's known him for only five minutes and she's already scolding his language. Even if she's right.

"I see her!" Maria exclaims, jostling him. The tote bag hits him hard in the face before she pulls it away and back from him, "but there's such a long line... oh..."

"Come on, don't give up, Abess, have a little more nerve."

"Don't test my nerve, George; I promise you I'll surprise you."

"It's-" Georg sighs again. Gives up. He jogs lightly up to what seems to be the end of a line (there's people shouting at him to get in the single-file line, so he's guessing this is where it starts). "We've made it."

"I'm nervous."

"Why?"

"Why?" Maria asks, "did you seriously just ask me why I'm nervous about meeting Mother Teresa?"

"... yes, but now I'm afraid to know."

"George, she's Mother Teresa!"

"Alright, alright," Georg briefly lets go of her ankles, forgetting his job in want of putting his hands up before quickly grabbing onto her again. "I got it, you can calm down now."

"Why do you want to meet her, anyway?" Maria raises a brow.

He stumbles.

Shrugging, he feels Maria jump at the motion when he says, "I don't know. I'm Catholic, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Yeah."

"Geez, George, I know atheists who are more enthusiastic about meeting Mother Teresa than you."

"That's insulting!"

"Newflash: it was meant to be."

He snorts, not really angry (she's too much fun to be angry at forever). "I guess you're right, though."

"Once you meet her you'll probably be so happy and shocked you'll faint."

"I will not-"

"Oh my gosh! She's looking at us!"

"What?" He moves abruptly and Maria yelps.

"Mother Teresa! She was looking at us! She made eye contact with me!"

"Wait, how close are we to the front?"

"A little less than halfway."

"How's that possible?" Georg's brows furrow as he thinks, "we've only been standing here for, what, five minutes?"

"Twenty."

He starts. "You're lying to me."

Maria bends her head down so that she's looking into Georg's eyes and says, "nope." She shows him her wrist, a watch wrapped around it, displaying the time.

"How's it possible? It hasn't felt at all like twenty minutes."

"I'm magic," Maria shrugs, and he rolls his eyes.

"You're insufferable."

She scoffs, "watch your mouth, George, I've got my legs wrapped around your throat!" Before he can retort, she pinches him and says, "oh my gosh, she looked at me again, put me down put me down put me down!"

Georg obeys, and when Maria's landed solidly on her own two feet, he rubs his neck, "my neck is sore."

"Sounds like a you problem," Maria drawls, smirking at him, "not a me problem."

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "annoying and i've only known her forty minutes" under his breath, but Maria ignores him. Raising on his tiptoes and craning his neck, he can see that Maria is, indeed, right: they're now within earshot of Mother Teresa. He feels himself get nervous and begins to bounce on his toes, Maria glancing at him in amusement. "Calm down," she says, even though she's also shaking in anticipation.

"After you, m'lady," he quips, and she sticks her tongue out at him, but he doesn't miss the light blush that appears on her cheeks. He smirks to himself.

The line moves again, and a large family hurries forward. Now there's only two people between them and Mother Teresa. "What are you going to say?" Abess asks him, running a hand through her hair. "To Mother Teresa, I mean."

"I knew what you meant," Georg assures. "And, I don't know. Hi, probably. Pray for me, too. Pray for my family, for my friends. Maybe. What about you?"

Maria grins, a radiant smile that surprises him. "I'm gonna give her a hug and tell her I'm praying for her, and ask her to continue praying for all of us, too."

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, though the thought he has inside him is, that's it?

The line moves. One group between them, now. They can hear her voice. Georg thinks it's not as holy as he'd thought it would be. Maria punches his shoulder, and he holds back a wince. Why is she so energetic? "You ready, George?"

He nods, but his mouth is a thin line and when Maria puts a feather-light hand on his arm, she can feel him shaking ever-so-slightly. "You?" He asks.

"Slightly nervous, but as ready as I'll ever be," she responds. Georg thinks she looks the exact opposite of nervous.

The people move. There's an open space, now, and for two seconds Maria and Georg freeze, staring at Mother Teresa, who stares back, unblinking. Eventually, Mother Teresa smiles and says, "come, come." They do so, Georg with one long stride and Maria skipping towards the Mother. "What are your names?" She asks them.

"My name is Maria Abess," says Ms Abess, smiling softly at Mother Teresa.

"Georg von Trapp, ma'am." Georg responds.

"Maria Abess," Mother Teresa repeats softly, and she looks at Georg as she says, "and you said it was Georg von Trapp?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She grins a little at his title for her, but doesn't chastise or comment on it. Instead, she says, "well then, Georg, how are you serving our Lord?"

The question catches Georg by surprise, and as a consequence of not expecting said question, his mouth begins to move before his mind does, "I," he says, "well, I, um, we," after a few more seconds of spluttering, his brain finally wraps itself around Mother Teresa's question, and he says, "I'm... I'm doing my best to raise my kids the way He'd want them to be raised. I'm doing my best to live a good life. I help out in my community, in my church."

Mother Teresa nods, "very well." She says. Turning to Maria, she asks, "well, Ms. Abess, what about you? How are you serving our Lord?"

Maria's smile grows into a grin, and she's practically bouncing on the balls of her feet when she says, "well, Mother, I suppose I'm doing whatever needs to be done. Whatever He wants me to do."

This answer is, apparently, different from what Mother Teresa usually hears, because the Mother's back straightens, and her little smile becomes more inquisitive. "How wonderful, Maria! And what is it that our God wants you to do at this moment in time?"

"Well," Maria cocks her head to the side, "later on today I'm going to go to a house on the edge of the city; I'm due to nanny some children there."

"How many?"

"Seven!" Maria exclaims, looking frazzled already. Georg starts slightly, but says nothing. Nothing's been confirmed yet. "But Mother, I do know, oh, I just know that this must be the Lord's plan, and with His gracious strength and wise hand guiding me, I know I can succeed in nannying this children. I just hope they like me."

"They'll like you, child, I know they will." Mother Teresa smiles. She pulls seven simple rosaries out of a bag that Georg hadn't seen before and says to Maria, "take these, for them."

"Thank you, Mother." Maria beams, taking the items, and the two women hug. "You are in my prayers; I ask that you continue praying for us as well!"

"Always, my dear," Mother Teresa responds, hugging Maria tighter. When they pull away, Georg finds that he can't really ask Mother Teresa for something she's already giving, so instead, he gives her a hug, planning to pull away quickly. The Mother surprises him, though; she pulls him close and keeps him tightly in her grasp, and she is so motherly, so holy and in love with God, that by the time she pulls away Georg is gasping for breath, tears in his eyes and a tear in his heart. "May God bless you, hold you, and keep you," Mother Teresa says, "all the days of your lives."

"Likewise." Maria and Georg say. They exchange their goodbyes, and then they're gone, walking back the way they had come. They walk for a couple minutes in silence, both of them thinking, when suddenly Georg's brain jump-starts and he says, "wait. You're nannying seven kids?"

"Yep!" Maria huffs out a breath, "no one at the charity I work at wanted them, so they gave the job to me. It's alright though; I don't mind."

"But... but seven children?"

"Careful, now, or you'll risk sounding dubious." Maria laughs at him and Georg rolls his eyes. "Yes, seven. I go meet with the family in two hours. They live on the edge of the city, south side." She says, "and, actually, I'm not even that worried about the kids; I'm more worried about their dad. File said he was overly-strict and had a mean streak. But who know, files have been wrong before. Maybe he'll be fun."

Is that what the agencies thought of him? Interesting.

"Interesting." Georg voices his thought out loud. "You know, I actually think I know the family. What did you say their last name was?"

"Ugh, I didn't," Maria frowns, "I can't remember! I think it was van Til, or something, hold on, I've got the file in my purse, let me check..." She digs through her horrendously giant tote bag, before pulling out a battered and bruised file. Opening it, she says, "there's Leisel, Friedrich -but they call him Fred- Louisa, but they call her Lu, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, and Gretl... and the last name is v-" her head jerks up towards him so fast that Georg is afraid she'll develop whiplash. "It's v-" again, her head jerks towards him, before looking fiercely down at the paper. Then back to him. Then back down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Finally, she grinds out, "you've got to be kidding me." There's a disbelieving look on her face.

Georg sheepishly shrugs; "surprise?"

"You're the von Trapp dad?"

He nods.

"You've got seven kids?"

He nods again, and watches her eyes dart quickly towards his ring finger before looking back at him. He feels a swell of pride at this, but he doesn't really know why.

Okay, that's a lie. He absolutely knows why. He just doesn't want to admit it yet.

"I'm the lonely widower with seven children, yeah." Georg shrugs, and Maria blinks twice.

"Huh."

"I know."

"I guess the file did lie." Georg starts in surprise, but Maria doesn't catch his falter. Instead, she says, her voice bashful, "I hope I made a good first impression." She glances up at him, shyly.

He hesitates. Weighs his chances. And then he says, honestly and quietly, "you made a brilliant first impression."

And, well, if the crimson that graces her cheeks is anything to go by, Georg would say his chances are pretty good.


They go their separate ways so that Maria can finish getting her stuff out of her little flat on 222b Baker Street ("and, honestly, I'm glad I'm moving from there," she tells Georg, "I've got two neighbors upstairs from me and they're always yelling."), and so Georg can go make sure the kids haven't killed themselves. He's already been gone longer than anticipated, anyway. When he gets home, Gretl jumps into his arms and Liesel demands to know where he's been, but Georg simply puts a finger to his lips and says, "a father never tells."

(Perhaps he'll tell them someday, many months from now, but for today, he'll keep the events of the afternoon to himself.)

When Maria shows up, it's five thirty in the evening, and he can hear the bus that brought her pulling away loudly. Their house is large and two stories, looking out of place in the hustle and bustle of London, but it also, in a strange sort of manner, looks like it belongs. The knock on the door silences the children, and Georg goes to answer it. When he does, Maria is staring up at him, out of breath, with a guitar in her right hand and a suitcase in the other. Her other stuff was sent ahead; Georg guesses this was just the last of it. "You wouldn't believe how much I had to run to get here." Maria breathes out quickly and in low tones so the children can't hear. "I almost missed the bus!"

Georg looks her up and down before grinning, "I can tell."

Maria rolls her eyes at him, but she's blushing again. "Shut up."

"Is that really the proper way to speak to your employer?" He jests.

The blond grinds her jaw, and Georg thinks she's contemplating quitting when she says, "I take back what I said. The file was right. All right. Everything was correct. Everything."

This startles a loud laugh out of Georg, and Maria smirks in triumph as he claps a hand over his mouth to shut himself up. By this point, the children have been slowly tiptoeing forward, and it's now that Maria leans past Georg and looks at the seven of them. "Hi!" She beams.

The children scream and rush backwards.

"Hm." Maria says, mock serious. "Delightful."

And with that, she pushes past Georg, who promptly closes the door behind them and goes to introduce everyone.


Later on, when the kids are playing in the small front yard they have and Maria and Georg are watching them, Maria says, "hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Considering you'll probably ask me even if I said no, go ahead."

Maria takes a sip of her water, watching Kurt argue with Fred for a moment before she continues.

"Why didn't you tell me your name was Georg?"

And, well, all Georg can do is laugh.

fin.


I didn't proof read, so I hope this didn't suck!
Reviews are, as always, highly appreciated!