I still talk to jesus
A/N: Happy Sunday! This one is a bit more serious than the others I've posted so far. I hope you enjoy it.
Setting: Night of the Edelweiss scene
Song: "i still talk to jesus" LANY.
I've got a past more stained than the glass
Everyone knows
I need salvation for my reputation
So here it goes
I don't change my ways, I don't change my shirt
I go from the club straight to the church
It's the same prayer, it's the same hurt
Maybe I drink too much
Fall in and out of love
It's been a couple times
I've done a couple lines
I lie to my mama, smoke marijuana
Most of the time I do what I wanna
You might not believe it
But I still talk to Jesus
It's none of your business; stop thinking about it. Maria told herself, hurrying up the steps of the villa. She was just leaving her weekly meeting with her employer – Captain Georg von Trapp. Since he had returned with his guests from Vienna two weeks ago, he required they meet every Sunday evening to share any critical information about the children and the lessons she planned for the week.
Despite her initial impression of her boss and the endless tales the children had told about their father, she only recently began learning about him through her own eyes now that he was home. During these meetings, Maria became more intrigued by him. He was still a refined man of the Austrian aristocracy, but after he reunited with his children, Maria suddenly realized there was so much more to him than originally she thought. Though he still conducted himself with a military rigidity that endlessly infuriated and fascinated Maria, the cracks beneath his mask were beginning to show. The first crack she noticed was just before their second weekly meeting. She was unusually early, so she waited outside his study, and while she lingered, the young woman realized his office door was cracked open and saw him oddly hunched over his desk.
Out of curiosity, Maria stayed behind the door but peeked in to get a better view of his desk. It was rare for her to see the naval captain unaware of his surroundings, and she couldn't help but want to know what he was doing. From her vantage point, Maria saw his head bowed, fingers folded together in a way that was all too familiar to her. She thought she imagined things until she realized he was murmuring quietly to himself, and everything became clear.
She never expected to see his head bowed in prayer. From her first night in the villa, she knew religion wasn't at the center of the von Trapp Family when she was the one who had to initiate grace. In addition, the first Sunday Maria took the children to mass – after the Captain had left for Vienna – Liesl informed her that even when their mother was alive, they weren't active members of the Church. However, the sixteen-year-old did point out they used to attend Christmas and Easter Mass, and all the children had been baptized.
Once Captain von Trapp returned with the Baroness and Herr Detweiler, Maria expected him to comment on the introduction of a few Catholic practices at the villa, but he said nothing. He quietly accepted the changes – grace before every meal, the children attending mass on Sunday mornings with her, and prayers before bed. The Captain didn't necessarily participate in any of them outside of grace, but he also hadn't stopped them. When she informed him they would attend mass Sunday morning, her employer merely nodded and wished her a good time. During their Sunday breakfast, he even asked how mass was, and the children responded enthusiastically, proudly sharing what they learned from the homily with their father.
It filled Maria with a sense of joy, seeing the children interact with their faith, and she quickly realized this must have been another reason God called her to this family. Their endless curiosity and questions made her reflect on her own faith and relationship with God as well. Maria hadn't anticipated the joy and fulfillment she received in these very open and honest conversations with the children about their faith. She often had to consult the Bible or write their questions down to ask the Reverend Mother when she visited the Abbey on her day off.
Despite Maria's delightful conversations with the children about religion, she never anticipated seeing their father engaged in any sort of religious activity. In fact, the young woman was so surprised at the sight of him praying, she lost her footing and unceremoniously made her entrance into his office with a large THUD. A moment later, she saw the Captain craning his neck over his desk and wryly asked, "Fraulein, are you quite well?"
"Oh, yes, sir," she answered while dusting herself off quickly. "Even on land, I seem to lose my balance," she weakly joked.
He gave her one of those wry stares she was now used to seeing and then beckoned for her to sit so they could begin their meeting.
Two weeks later, Maria found herself unable to sleep. Despite the late hour, the young governess was reeling from the Captain's stunning performance of Edelweiss that evening. She tossed and turned for hours, unable to settle herself. Her mind kept drifting back to the sight of him on the sofa, gazing at her with that delighted smile as he sang. Her heart did a little flip at the memory, especially when she noticed his endearing dimples, and Maria was grateful she didn't swoon right there.
So, the governess decided it would be beneficial to get herself a drink of water to clear her head. Then she would try again to get some sleep before the children unceremoniously woke her up. Maria was certain they would be up early to continue their raving about the grand and glorious party the Baroness was going to host.
Much to Maria's surprise, as she snuck down the stairs, a bright light was emitted from the Captain's study. The door was cracked open, and from the stairway, she could barely make out the Captain sitting at his desk, head bowed and resting on his folded hands, propped up by his elbows.
Without a second thought – due to the lack of sleep – Maria silently made her way down the stairs and craned her neck to better view the room. After a moment, she could smell the alcohol in the air coming from his direction, and it was confirmed when she recognized the decanter of whiskey and the glass filled with amber liquid on his desk.
"Fraulein, I know you're there," he lazily murmured, head still bowed.
Despite her shock, she didn't fall into his study. Instead, she tightened the sash of her robe and hesitantly pushed the door open. The young woman stood there in the doorway, taking in the sight of him, still hunched over the desk, face obstructed by his arms. For a moment, she wondered how he even knew she was there, but there was another more pressing question that needed an answer.
"Were you praying?"
The Captain slowly raised his head, and she recognized the hazy look of intoxication on his face as he leaned back in his chair, unfolding his hands.
"I was," he quietly admitted, avoiding her gaze. He had that brooding look she recognized from fleeting moments when he thought no one was looking.
It was a subtle transformation. If one hadn't refined the art of deconstructing his facial expressions, one wouldn't notice, but Maria had. After the rowboat incident, he was around more – visiting the children during their studies, and even joining them on a trip to her mountain. Maria had the chance to study him – purely for the benefit of the children, of course. Not because of how attractive his facial features were that made her weak at the knees. Certainly not.
During those times, Maria would notice an imperceptible change of his eyebrows, line of his mouth, or in the reflection of his eyes. It simultaneously broke her heart and intrigued her. He was clearly haunted by many things throughout his life – the Great War, the loss of his wife, and who knows what else.
"I didn't know you prayed," she commented without a second thought. The Captain snorted and gave her an ironic look.
"I know you might not believe it, but I still talk to Jesus… well, sometimes," he amended, barely above a whisper. His voice was rough and low, another sign of his brooding.
"That's lovely."
He gave a non-committal shrug and shifted his focus to the whiskey glass on his desk. He leisurely picked it up and studied the ocher liquor.
"I certainly have more to pray about than you; I have a past as stained as the glass in the dome of the Salzburg Cathedral," he sardonically continued, gently rotating his glass, causing the liquid to swirl. "It's no secret I strayed far from the Church during my youth – Max brings it up enough."
Maria cracked a smile at that comment, remembering last week when Herr Detweiler brought up her employer's… adventurous past. The young governess somehow found herself invited to a nightcap with the two gentlemen one night. Baroness Schraeder had turned in early for bed, and Maria passed through the salon to collect her guitar. Seemingly set on embarrassing the Captain, Herr Detweiler regaled her with a story about finding him in the back of a bar in a tiny port city while they were on leave with not one but two women.
However, Maria didn't hear much more than that because the Captain quickly stopped the impresario from detailing precisely what those two women were doing to her employer and switched the subject.
"To be fair, I don't exactly believe all Herr Detweiler tells me," Maria admitted.
"I appreciate your skepticism, Fraulein, but unfortunately, most of the things he tells relating to our navy days are true. I was a terrible cad, and I didn't get better until after my marriage. But even then, I continued to push religion away, especially after–" he cut himself off, furrowing his brow, not finishing his thought.
Still, Maria knew he was referring to his wife's death, and her heart stopped. That was the first time he had ever made an illusion to her in Maria's presence.
After a pause, Georg ruminated aloud, "I often wonder what a saintly person like you would have to pray about when there are people like me."
Maria's face flushed at the comment but shrugged it off.
"I wouldn't refer to myself as saintly, Captain. We all have our faults."
He snorted and shook his head.
"Compared to me, you are a saint, Fraulein."
She furrowed her brow in disagreement and folded her arms.
"Why? Do you believe that merely because I am a postulant?"
"God, no. You are saintly in your actions and in the way you approach the world. You see the good in everyone. Hell, you even saw the good in me despite my detestable behavior towards you that day by the lake. And even though I didn't deserve it, you forgave me, and you stayed."
"Everyone deserves to be forgiven, Captain," she murmured.
He shook his head resolutely.
"Not everyone, there are some things I can't forgive myself for…" he trailed off, and that ruminating look came back – this time through the furrow of his brow and set jaw. Maria's heart pulled in her chest. Although he didn't verbalize it, she sensed he must be thinking about the children, and before she could stop herself, she responded.
"Why not? They have forgiven you."
For the first time, he snapped his head toward her and made direct eye contact. The haunted look on his face took her breath away. There was a mix of emotions in his dark blue eyes – pain, confusion, grief, despair, and miraculously, hope.
"They have?" he asked hoarsely.
"They forgave you the moment you began singing that day," she whispered once she found her voice.
"I don't understand why."
"You're their father."
"Some father I've been," he snorted again while he shook his head, breaking their eye contact. He took a gulp of the whiskey before continuing, "I left them to their own devices for the last three years. I was so selfish and wrapped up in my own despair I forgot about them – my own children, Fraulein – and not only forgot but avoided. For three years, they not only lost their mother but their father as well." His voice caught in his throat for a moment, and Maria saw the tears pool in his eyes, but they stubbornly refused to fall despite his intoxication.
She took a step toward his desk, just out of the doorway.
"You did the best you could, Captain," she whispered.
He shook his head and finished off his drink before reaching over to pour a bit more whiskey into the glass. After he filled it, he moved to place it in a compartment of his desk.
"You're too kind, Fraulein, but no, there was so much more I could have done. I should have been there for them. I could have stayed instead of abandoning all of them and leaving Liesl and Friedrich to pick up the pieces. As you so accurately pointed out, Liesl is not a child anymore, despite how much I want to deny it." He paused, taking a sip. "She has grown into a beautiful young woman, and I finally saw her for the first time like that when we sang. Do you know the last time we sang together?" he asked rhetorically. "It was five weeks before her mother's health seriously declined. I don't remember the exact song, but she sat in front of me on the floor, just like she did tonight with that same expression on her face, and it was only then that it hit me how much we lost."
"Not everything was lost, though, Captain. You forget the other point I made that day," Maria began, and he looked over her confused. "You are using the time you still have with them to be close to them. That is all they wanted, and there isn't anything else you can do – you can't go back, so you might as well go forward."
"Have you always been this wise?" he muttered rhetorically, shaking his head. "Now, I must ask your forgiveness again. I'm sure you didn't intend to hear the incoherent ramblings of your intoxicated employer at this late hour. You should go up to bed."
Maria shrugged, and without thinking, she retorted, "I'd much rather hear your ramblings than being left with my own thoughts."
He tilted his head in curiosity. "Oh?"
She flushed bright red and shrugged.
"As I said, Captain, we all have our own burdens."
"Hm," he grumbled, glancing over at the clock. "Well, regardless, we both should get some sleep – it's nearly three in the morning."
Maria's eyes widened in disbelief, and she turned to the timepiece on the wall. "Three o'clock?! Ooh, the children will undoubtedly wake up early today. They are so excited for the party," she added while she walked to the door.
The Captain pushed in his desk chair and gave her a wry smile.
"I'm glad someone is. Good night, Fraulein."
Maria gave him a small smile accompanied with a "Good night, Captain," before she hurried back up the stairs – cup of water forgotten.
Miraculously she quickly fell into a welcome sleep. However, it didn't last long. Clearly still affected by their interaction in the study, her subconscious decided to humor her at her employer's expense. Her dream included an amusing scene with the Captain dressed in a full habit, leading a discussion at the Baroness's grand and glorious party about prayer. Maria nearly laughed herself out of bed by the time the children came to wake her up.
There you have it! I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. xx