The days and nights passed, every hour and moment feeling exactly the same as the others. She lay unmoving in her bed as each member of the family took turns either lying in bed with her, sitting in a chair and reading to her, sharing a meal with her, or, her favorite, simply sitting in silence and holding her hand. And when the nights came, Georg held her close and slept by her side. She was most thankful for his comfort, as she hoped she was comforting to him as well when they held one another.

She hadn't slept much since the night in the hospital, too anxious or angry or sad to do so. It seemed to change from one minute to the next. She would toss and turn, Georg patient as he would wait for her to toss about before pulling her close, sometimes running his fingers through her hair to calm her. When she did doze off, she would awaken in tears, her heart pounding with anxiety. She had never felt that way in her entire life.

On Wednesday she finally decided to join the family for supper in the dining room. They were all careful with her, doing their best not to be too noisy or boisterous at her joining them. It was a quiet enough meal, one of her new favorite soups that the cook introduced her to not long ago. As she stood to fill her glass of water she noticed there was a carafe of red wine upon the bar. Sighing, she filled her glass to the brim with the wine and took a long drink. She needed something more than water to calm her nerves.

"She doesn't drink." Hede whispered to Georg, who shook his head in confirmation of his own confusion as he watched her top off the glass and move back to her seat at the table. He had no idea how to help her either, but supposed she was doing all she could to gain some control. He had been there with different types of grief in his life, and he understood the need for some kind of control, any kind.

"Fraulein Maria, do you want to hear a song we've prepared for you after supper?" Marta's sweet voice met her ears, and she genuinely smiled for the first time in days. It wasn't much of a smile, but the girl seemed pleased to see it.

"Of course, darling. Who came up with it?"

"Uncle Max. He says we can sing it at the festival." Maria met Georg's eyes in question, who seemed upset and looked toward Max in frustration. Max waved his hands in the air frantically.

"I said if your father allowed it! Young lady, you are trying to get me into trouble." Marta giggled, smiling at her uncle in apology.

She did like the banter that Max brought to the supper table. He always knew how to keep things light and fun, and she could appreciate that. While she never would forget his mean-spirited ways she saw when he and Baroness Schraeder were together, she did like him for who he was.

She stood to refill her glass of wine, finding that it made her a bit sleepy, and she hoped it would help her find some relief from her insomnia. It also made her feel warm, which was quite the relief from the cold ball of ice she had felt in her stomach for days. Not to mention the affects on her mind; she felt calm and could easily take a deep breath after she took a long drink of her second glass. She even found herself going back for a third, carrying it with her as the children led her to the drawing room to hear their song.

They sang beautifully, an upbeat song that sounded a bit silly, but was a lot of fun. She caught herself smiling, as did the rest of the family, when Kurt hit his high note. He was definitely the clown of the group, and his smile showed that he loved every moment of it. As she drained her glass of wine, she felt Georg take her hand. She looked into his eyes, and the look he returned was one of sadness, pity perhaps. It held a lot of questions and a few answers, and she turned away at the weight of his gaze. She didn't need to start crying again, and she certainly didn't need his pity.

She stood to fill her glass once more at the table across the room, feeling herself sway a bit as she did so. Georg was quickly by her side when she reached the table, and he leaned down to whisper so nobody else could hear. He placed a gentle hand upon her back, rubbing a bit in comfort.

"Are you sure you haven't had enough, darling?" She turned to look at him, angry that he was trying to stop her. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"No, I don't think I have." She filled the glass again, watching as the darkness of the alcohol swirled around the glass. The taste wasn't enjoyable at first, but by now it was almost like a nectar. He sighed, continuing to rub comforting circles upon her back.

"You're getting drunk."

"Yes." His words weren't a question, and she took another drink as she looked into his eyes. His gaze was harsh, telling her she was being foolish, but she didn't care in the least. She had seen him use alcohol to numb his feelings on multiple occasions, so he had no place to judge her.

"Please don't do or say anything you'll regret." She scoffed, unsure what he meant by that, as she walked back to the couch and took her seat. The children sang another song before handing the guitar to Maria in question. She sat down her glass of wine, looking over the instrument as if it were an object she hadn't held before. In truth, it had been quite a long time since she strummed the strings of her guitar, and she was suddenly a bit shy to play.

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything off the top of my head." She sat it next to her against the couch, noting the looks of sadness on the faces of the children. She was never lacking words or songs to play with them, and the now familiar darkness began to creep over her features. She felt her tears beginning to bubble to the surface, and she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"Children, I do think it's time to say goodnight. You're up well past your usual bedtime." Hede stood, beginning to rouse the children. She was thankful for the help, as she was growing concerned that she wasn't going to be able to function as properly as she had hoped. Brigitta stepped toward Maria as the others were being ushered out of the room, and she gave her a quick kiss upon the cheek.

"Goodnight, Mother." Maria smiled through her tears, squeezing the girl's hand in her own before she joined her siblings on their way to bed. She couldn't tell if her heart had broken all over again or if it was trying to feel full.