Well, here's chapter five which is opening a new arc called "Back to life". It's not very long but I hope you will like it...

            Please, read and REVIEW, please... ^_^

            Thanks again to my prereaders Franziska and Eilzabeth who are doing an amazing work!

            Usual disclaimers here.

Vienna, January 7th 1919, late at night

The room was small but clean, in a middle of it stood a table, with three chairs, covered with books, newspapers and other stuff... At the opposite side of the room stood a single bed with ruffled sheets and covers. Next to it some empty bottles were scattered along with a plate that seemed to serve as an ashtray. Even if it was so impersonal it was warm in there and this was all that mattered to Maria's mind.

"Don't be shy, Maria, just come in," Georg said with a soft smile, pushing her forward a little. "D'ya want something to eat? You must be hungry," he asked her while walking towards the little kitchenette. "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer but tell me..."

Nonetheless, Maria stood shyly in the middle of the room, not daring to move forward. She could not believe what was happening to her. A few hours ago, she was sure that she was going to die without anybody paying attention to her. And now, there was this strange, injured man who seemed to be willing to look after her. Was it all a dream? What if she would wake up again? Wake up, still lying in the cold streets of that horrible town? Lying there all alone without anybody taking care or notice of her? So she stood there, unable to move, unable to hold back her tears.

Georg was beginning to warm up some milk and chocolate he had managed to buy on the black market. "I must honestly admit that this is the main advantage of being a member of a wealthy family... At least, I can eat properly and I can share it...". Lost in his thoughts, first he did not noticed that Maria had not moved a single bit since he left her to make something to eat. She still stood, her arms crossed on her chest and was weeping softly. His heart filling with pity and sympathy, he walked to her, kneeled and took her with his right arm.

"Sshh, kiddy, it's alright, it's over." Instinctively, he kissed her gently on the forehead, hugging the little girl in a paternal embrace. She was sobbing now, her whole body shaking of exhaustion.

Georg was lost. He did not know how to deal with such a little, lost child. He was sailor, a soldier. The idea of having a family never had crossed his mind, never. Besides, he saw himself more like a killer than a loving human being now. But here he was, holding the small crying form, trying to comfort her even if he felt utterly powerless. He stroked gently her hair, pulling her closer so that her head was resting on his valid shoulder, rocking her slightly.

She felt warm and secure in that paternal embrace. She was so young when her father left for the army, she did not remember him very well. Georg's embrace was waking up long forgotten feelings little by little... Slowly, she put her arms around his neck, settling more comfortably against his shoulder. She was not crying anymore.

Georg felt Maria clutching to his shoulders more firmly. His left one was aching horribly but he really did not mind... The little girl had stopped sobbing and seemed to be better now. She was talking softly in his ear. Even if he did not understand what she was saying at all, he recognized vaguely the language. The same  czech words were coming back in her sweet babbling again and again: "Papa... Mama..." She was thinking about her parents. The young officer had been so willing to comfort Maria that he had totally forgotten about the milk... The smell of burning milk suddenly called him back to reality.

"Oh damn! The milk!" He got up quickly and ran to it only not witness the disaster... "What a jerk..." he mumbled, emptying the recipient. Noticing he did not have any clean device left, he was about to ask Maria if she did not mind drinking cool milk when he saw her giggling, trying to contain her upcoming laughter...

"What?" he asked, totally confused. The little one burst out of laughter then, tears forming in her eyes.

"Hey, what's so funny, kiddy?" he asked again, a bit ashamed of being the cause of her amusement.

"You're not a gentleman, Sir. You're always saying bad words and you're clumsy..." she managed to say after a while.

Raising an eyebrow, Georg looked at her, surprised. "Well, let's say I am not a gentleman. What's the problem with that?"

"Nothing, nothing," she giggled again. "It's just that your hair, your beard, your bad words... You're so funny, Sir..." she answered, laughing again.

"A few minutes ago, she was utterly despaired and now she's making fun of me... I just don't understand kids..." thought Georg, trying to deal with that unexpected new situation. He walked to her and knelt again, taking her chin in his hand. "Well, let's say I am not the only one being impolite here," he said with mock seriousness. "Had nobody told ya that you mustn't make fun of strangers?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Ow, what are ya doing right now?" he went on, trying vainly to look severe.

"I just can't help it..." With that, Maria burst out of laughter again, enjoying Georg's mock serious expression.

The young officer looked at Maria's laughing face in awe. Maybe it was the contagion. Maybe it was the after effect of the vodka. Maybe it was the absurdity of the whole situation. He suddenly felt laughing too, he could not help it. Then, in the middle of a night of January, Captain Georg-Emanuel von Trapp, commanding officer of the submarine named the Wotan, burst out of laughter for the first time in months.

The sea captain and the little girl calmed themselves down a bit after a while. Georg got up, taking the hand of Maria and leading her to the table. "What about eating a little now, ship-girl?"

"Yes sir," she answered eagerly, trying to make some space between the books and the papers.

"And stop calling me like that! I am not a gentleman at all, remember? My name's Georg!" he said, filling two glasses with milk.

"I don't like it... It's a name for old men..."

Laughing, he walked to the table with both glasses and put them down.

"Know what? I don't really like it either! But I'm afraid I don't have much choice!"

"Too bad..." she said frowning a little.

"Well, maybe you could call me Mani if you wanna..."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing at all. It just a nickname my friends gave me," he explained smiling.

"So that means that I am your friend too?" she asked expectantly.

"Well, I don't have much choice, do I?"he stated with mock exasperation.