DISCLAIMER: The Sound of Music and Hummingbird aren't mine!

Far out east I'll be
Driving to the lights we used to see
Just need room to breathe
I know I should let go of you

The crinkle of paper. The scratch of the metal tip of the pen. The clink of ice against glass. The sound of liquid sloshing. The strong scent of brandy. The sound of glass against wood. The cap clicking firmly in place. The slam of the pen against the desk. The sound of a sigh. The sound of a cricket. The scrape of wood against wood. The familiar click of a shut door. The satisfying sound of the key turning in the lock. The jiggle of keys. The echo of footsteps on marble. The sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall.

He glanced up the stairs and stayed where he stood, head slowly turning to the direction of the door leading to the terrace. Lips pursed, and hands shoved in his pockets, he swallowed a lump forming in his throat. His eyes moved from tile to tile as he continued to think. Seconds, minutes of thinking. He made his way to the door. He needed a walk. He needed to clear his mind. He needed—

Once he was outside, he let out a breath he hadn't realized that he was holding. The air was warm—not unpleasant, not as filled with tension and so many unspoken words and thrown glares as it was every meal time the past week. No. Out here, by the lake, he could feel himself letting himself go—breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

"Is anything wrong, sir? Did I make your tea incorrectly, or—"

"No, no! You're perfect—er—it's perfect—You've done it correctly. Well done, fraulein," he stumbled over his words as he took another large sip from his mug. And another. And another. Draining it. Wishing for the wash of calmness that came with the warm, fuzzy feeling of downing one's tea. Yet it didn't come. Instead—

"You always look as if you're holding your breath," she tilted her head slightly, murmuring, saying to no one in particular—possibly stating an observation. He merely stared at her slightly-narrowed eyes. "You're always so… uptight" —she said as she poured herself another cup of tea. Then, she startled him as she cleared her throat, snapping out of some sort of trance— "Would you like some more tea, sir?"

"No, thank you. I think one cup would be enough," he straightened his back, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He watched as she took a sip from her mug, her fingers clasping gently around the handle of the mug. Perhaps catching his eyes on her dainty fingers, she stared at him curiously once more—eyes slightly narrowed, mouth slightly quirked.

"Is… is there anything wrong, sir?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "I—well—I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

"I see," she nodded, pursing her lips as she traced circles on her mug absentmindedly. "You should breathe more often," she pointed out softly. "Breathing helps you pause for a moment—empty your mind for a little while, gain new insights. Gain a new perspective."

He found himself staring at her, mesmerized by the way she spoke with so much sincerity. She was genuine and kind. And… more often than not, right about so many things. She was more perceptive than anyone has ever given her credit for, and he found himself—

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed for a while, her lips pursed. He could hear her softly take in a breath, and listened as she slowly exhaled. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

He opened his eyes, and let the breeze envelop him as he continued to walk by the lake, stopping to lean on one of the pegasus statues framing the gate. He stared at the calm, clear waters of the lake, mesmerized by the reflection of the moon rippling across the surface. Perfect circle—distorted. Broken. Hazy. He turned away.

The past few days have been a nightmare, he thought. The children were all inconsolable, still, even a week and a half after... she left. The villa had been overcome with silence—no laughter, no music. Nothing. It all felt wrong, he thought as he knitted his eyebrows. And each day was worse than the day before, it seemed. The air felt heavy around him—nauseating, suffocating, crippling. Now that Max was in Vienna for what's left of the week, there was absolutely no one to entertain the children—no one to make them laugh or tell them stories. Alleviate the crippling tension. No one. Nothing. No smiles, no laughter, no music. Nothing.

He had gone through all of this once before—not once feeling guilt or emotion in four years. Yet why was it…

Why was it that now, the absence of all these made him so nauseated, so suffocated, so crippled? He could feel his chest constricting at the memory of his eyes following each of his children at dinnertime—observing their every move.

Brigitta's eyebrow was arched throughout the entire evening—he knew she still didn't believe a word that he said—though he had known better than to lie to her. Gretl didn't want to meet anyone's eye, keeping her head down, and sniffled each time she glanced at the empty chair beside her. Kurt didn't seem so hungry… again, which had been most unusual. Liesl's lips were pursed all the time, opening only slightly to slide some food into her mouth. Friedrich was calm, yet he knew that his son was only trying to keep it together and stay strong for everybody else. Marta seemed more subdued than she usually was. Louisa… Louisa glared. No, not at him. Louisa glared at the only person in the house who seemed to be... fine despite everything. Louisa glared at Elsa.

Elsa. And only Elsa.

"Georg, have I told you about—"

"Father, may we be excused?" Liesl spoke, immediately her voice soft and exceedingly polite—lips pursed and gaze holding his. He felt small under her scrutiny. He felt the fire of Elsa's glare attempt to burn through him, yet he felt nothing. He could not take it to be sorry that his children wanted to be away from this room. They needed more time, he knew. They needed space.

He did, too, as a matter of fact.

"Of course, Liesl. I shall be up shortly to say good night."

"Yes, father," she said softly.

His eyes watched as Liesl stood, walking to the other end of the table to tend to Gretl—wiping Gretl's mouth with the napkin, and folding it neatly, placing it beside her sister's plate. He watched as she signaled her brothers and sisters, and at once, they all stood, and she ushered them out of the room in an orderly fashion.

Now take Liesl, she's not a child anymore. One of these days you're going to wake up and find that she's a woman, you won't even know her.

She was right. She was always right.

He continued to breathe steadily. In. Out. In. Out.

Breathe. Empty mind. Breathe.

He sighed loudly.

Even when I wish to drown thoughts of you—empty my mind from you, you continue to haunt me. You continue to stay with me. Why is it that I can never be rid of you?

From the first day he had met her, he had tried his best—to no avail, that is—to be rid of her. It was foolish of him to believe that whilst he was in Vienna, he would be free of her. Yet, the memory of her playful blue eyes, and the sound of her laughter and voice seemed to carry along with him, haunting his dreams at night, and plaguing his mind in the morning. He had known her for less than a day, for goodness' sake! He had wanted to be rid of her—she hadn't just humiliated him in front of his children, she had managed to blatantly lie to his face, and break at least half of his rules within twelve hours of being under his employ. What was there to like about the woman who wore the ugliest dress?

And if he hadn't been adamant enough to be rid of her, the minute he was home from Vienna, he had found her breaking the remaining half of his rules... and more, if that were possible—chaos everywhere, too much noise. Too much singing. Too much laughter. Too much screaming. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted it gone. He wanted her gone—for good. That was final. And besides, what was there to like about the woman who capsized a boat and fell into the lake, and screamed at a naval captain at the top of her lungs (okay, that was an exaggeration, he thought) that he didn't know a thing about his children?

But she had been right. Far too right for his liking, but her words had rung true, nevertheless. She understood the children more than anyone had, it seemed, and she had been the one to tell him who his children were. As if he hadn't been watching his children grow all their life. As if he hadn't taken almost every meal with them when he could. As if he hadn't—

He hadn't.

He hadn't paid attention to the way that Liesl cared for Marta and Gretl, or the way Marta and Gretl clung to her constantly. He hadn't paid attention to the way that Friedrich tried to copy his every move despite all his harsh, discouraging words. He hadn't paid attention to the way Louisa had built walls so high that only she can climb and no one else can take down. He hadn't paid attention to the way Kurt always tried to make everyone smile because it was so rare to see everyone smile then. He hadn't paid attention to the way that Brigitta immersed herself in different sorts of universes because she hated the one she was living in. He hadn't paid attention to any of it until she told him that he didn't know anything about his children.

And damn her. She was right. She was always right.

He hated every moment of that argument—he hated that she was right, but more importantly, he hated how she had gotten under his skin. How she seemed to know how to push all his buttons and leave him so enraged. How she seemed to hit every nerve with her every move. With her every word. With her every... well, with her everything. He wanted to be rid of her. And he almost did. He almost did. He had told her—commanded her, even—to pack her bags and returned to the abbey. She hadn't deserved it, of course—but he would be lying if he said that he hadn't thought of saying it at least once to her face (and he had to admit—it had felt so damn good to be able to say it to her). But that had been when he hadn't known how much she would mean to his family.

When he hadn't known how she would change his life and make him wake up wanting to be a better person.

When he hadn't known how she would derail all his plans and make him want to start all over.

Then...

"I want you to stay."

He sighed as he sat down on one of the stone benches by the gloriously-lit gazebo, its golden light illuminating his face. He knitted his eyebrows and rested his forearms on his knees as he tried to wrap his head around that simple phrase. I want you to stay. I want you to stay. I want you to stay.

"I want you to stay," he whispered into the air, tasting the syllables as the words rolled on his tongue.

He let out a loud breath.

He remembered that exact moment as if it were yesterday—how he had been terribly surprised, a lump immediately forming in his throat as the phrase slipped from his mouth with ease. Moments passed—breaths passed, the words still ringing in his ear, her eyes wide, holding his gaze, the two of them suspended in time. "I ask you… to stay," he added softly, watching as a smile slowly graced her face, her eyes seemingly brighter, lighter.

As he turned from her and heard her run up the steps, he couldn't help but smile.

Things had changed drastically since then—laughter and music filled the house, and dancing and singing seemed to be something that never ceased. The air had shifted, and it felt… it felt lighter, brighter, and it smelled of sun and lavenders and trees and—

As he strolled through the garden, his hands clasped behind his back, he took in a deep breath—contented as sweet, fresh air filled his lungs. The night was surprisingly cool—it was usually hotter in the middle of summer, but he found that he did not mind this change at all, even if it was just for one night. Rather, he needed it to cool himself down and help him clear his mind after a rather tiresome and busy afternoon shopping trip with Elsa and Max.

He let out a loud huff as he thought about the thirty-something dresses that Elsa fitted today for the party. Why, they all looked the same to him! Different colours, perhaps, but all had seemed so similar—all too extravagant, all too much. Too much beading. Too much colours. Too much sequins. Too much flashing lights.

Lights.

There was a golden light coming from a distance, and he squinted to see where it was coming from. His eyebrows knitting in confusion, he hurried over to seek the light source, only to hear the faint strains of singing. Tilting his head slightly as he neared the source, he saw a figure dancing in the gazebo—pirouettes and leaps and arabesques—

"Vous savez bien
Que dans le fond je n'en crois rien
Mais cependant je veux encore
Écouter ces mots que j'adore"

(You know well that,
In the end, I will believe none of it.
But, no matter, I still want
to hear that word I adore.)

To say that he was not drawn to would be outright lying—he was curious, intrigued, enthralled, mesmerized by the dancer bathed in golden light. Her song lured him, and he couldn't help but smile as he walked nearer and nearer, close enough to fill his mind with the subtle scent of lavenders and see the golden flecks mirrored in her eyes. As he stood by the door of the lit gazebo, she had sighted him, and she stopped.

Standing shyly in the middle of the gazebo, she smoothed the blue chiffon of her skirt consciously. Lips pursed, eyes wide.

"Already practising for the party, fraulein? Isn't it a bit too early?" He asked amusedly, and he watched as she squirmed slightly under the scrutiny of his gaze.

"I hadn't meant for anyone to see me," she said simply. That did not answer the question, he thought to himself. Neither did that explain the dancing.

"I thought so," he nodded, hands still clasped firmly behind his back, taking one step into the fully-lit gazebo. "But you did not answer my question, fraulein—are you already practising for Elsa's grand and glorious party?"

"I don't think it's in my position to be dancing during the party, sir," she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Oh-ho, and why is that?"

"I have a duty, sir—don't I? I am there as the governess. My purpose is to care for the children. There will hardly be any time for dancing, especially with seven children who would be much too excited for that day," a small smile graced her face.

"Ah, I see," he nodded, taking another step into the gazebo, standing in front of her. "Then—er—does that mean that you are simply filling your dancing quota now so you will not need to dance during the party?"

"Well, no, you see, I was taking a walk, and I had never seen the gazebo so beautifully lit before," her eyes roamed around the gazebo, taking in a deep breath as a bright smile spread on her face. "And I just could not help myself—I just had to be a part of it!"

And she had been a part of it all—she had looked as if she belonged in there as she sang and danced. Golden light glinting on her strawberry blonde hair. Stars shining in her eyes. Warm smile etched on her face, pulling him—

"It is rather beautiful, is it not? I was quite surprised that all the lights had been left open today, especially as it had rained this afternoon. Frau Schmidt usually doesn't bother to walk all the way here, but I am glad that she did."

A curious expression crossed her face and—

"Erhm, Agathe… my late wife, she—uh—she always said it was more beautiful this way. She always likened it to a star. Something that you can easily search for when you're in need of comfort, and it's impossible to lose your way once you see it," he said hurriedly. What was the hurry? A calm feeling—something he had not quite felt for years, one that he simply cannot explain—washed over him as the words tumbled from his mouth with ease.

"That's beautiful," she said softly, as if holding her breath. It was then that he realized that it was the first time that he freely spoke of Agathe to anybody since she passed—and in one of the places she loved most. He found that speaking about her and whatever it was she loved did not hurt him. A certain warmth pooled in his chest, bursting, overflowing, and—

Her eyes slowly met his gaze, and he felt as if they were back at the staircase once more. Suspended in time as they stared into the other's soul. He felt vulnerable, and he knew that so did she. He had caught her in an opportune time—when her defenses were down, when she was merely herself. Not Maria from the abbey. Not Maria who grew up on the farm. Not Maria the governess. He saw her for who she was—he saw Maria. Maria with the sparkling blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Maria who seemed to shine her light in any room.

Maria.

I want you to stay.

Stay.

I ask you to stay.

Stay.

"I… it's getting quite late, sir. I'm afraid I must say good night. The dancing seemed to wear me off, I'm afraid," she laughed softly—nervously, breaking whatever trance they had been suspended in. He was down on earth once more. Her guards—her walls and towers and gates up once more. Far away.

Stay.

"I suppose you must. Good night, fraulein," he said curtly.

"Good night, Captain… sir," she said softly. He took a step to the side and allowed her to exit the gazebo. Slowly, she walked down the steps, and she was farther, and farther, and farther.

"Fraulein," he called. He was now standing in the middle of the gazebo, watching as she turned her head, facing him—eyes wide—as they always were once he called her—curious, questioning—

"Yes, sir?"

"Should you want to stay by the gazebo at night, please feel free to. It's not something… that is not meant to be disturbed. It's meant to be enjoyed and lived in."

"Thank you," she smiled softly.

And she walked farther. Farther. Farther. Farther, until she disappeared into the night, out of sight.

Now, he was staring at that same lit gazebo—its lights still golden, still bright—shining like a star on the ground from afar, there seemed to be something so different about it. Something… something… something had been missing. It was not complete.

She was not a part of it.

She was gone.

Gone.

I want you to stay.

Stay.

Gone.

Now that he needed her most. Now that he had wanted her near. Now that he wanted her to stay, there had been nothing left of her, except for the faint scent of her lingering at the back of his mind. Except for the outline of her smile in his memory. Except for the haunting memory of the blue of her eyes. Except for the words she spoke that stabbed him and healed him and taught him and—

And now, everything reminded him that he once had her, but she was now out of grasp. He had been such a fool.

Fool. Fool. Fool.

But what was the use in wallowing in what could have been?

I understand that the Lord has shown me this path in order to fulfil this one duty, Captain von Trapp—that is, to prepare the children for a new mother. Now that I know I have helped the children in ways that I possibly could, and I know that their family will soon be complete, I deplore that I am no longer needed. I have treasured every single moment of my time in this home, yet I am called to return to my own—to Nonnberg Abbey, where I belong. I have yearned to return for some time now, and now that my duty has been fulfilled, I return with a happy and immensely fulfilled heart.

God be with you and your family always, Captain von Trapp. If it is any consolation, I shall pray for you always. Please send the children all my love and regards. I cannot bear to extend my last goodbyes to them—it would have been too painful to do so, and I know that I shall be compelled to stay—which, in every case, I cannot. Perhaps I am a coward, after all—it is selfish and cruel to an extent, I am sorry to say, but I hope that in due time, you find it in your heart to forgive me and understand my reasons.

Respectfully,
M. Rainer

Who was he to say she couldn't leave? When the abbey was the place where she had chosen to run to—to call home, then what else could he possibly do? Fighting God for her was out of the question. Fighting her for something that she wanted was downright unfair and cruel.

He must let her go.

Let her go.

Let go.

Breathe.

Can't—

"Damn you."

But one half of my senses
Silently wishes
You were still with me

*Song is Parlez-Moi D'Amour by Lucienne Boyer!

A/N

Hello!

I'm sorry, I know some were intrigued by the last chapter, but you'll have to wait a bit more for the answers! Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter :) I had some trouble with it, but I really do hope that it all worked out.

Also, thank you for all the love you've sent my way so far. It really does warm my heart immensely! 'Susual, feedback is greatly appreciated! Sending love :)