A/N: Hello! I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. In truth, it's been written for months, but life got busy, and my motivation to write and/or edit was at an all time low. With that being said, I can't promise regular updates on this story, but I do promise that I'm still thinking about it and writing for it.

I hope you enjoy this little chapter. I have far too much fun torturing Georg, if you can't tell.

Thank you to anyone who has favourited, followed, or commented on this story!


I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone

Trying to find the one where I went wrong

Georg was in a dangerous mood.


He couldn't explain it – the unwavering restlessness within him that felt as if it were trying to claw its way out from his chest. He should be exhausted. He should be nearly half asleep at his desk, but instead, he was nursing a glass of scotch at a quarter to ten in the morning in an attempt to settle the nerves that raged a storm within him.

He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before, not after the dream – or rather nightmare – had played itself in his subconscious. Not only that, but the emotional toll that the previous day had taken on him had left him entirely drained – fulfilled with a newborn sense of purpose, but emotionally drained. He should be exhausted, but instead, he had never felt so wide awake.

He couldn't explain it. Was it delirium? Had the lack of sleep from the previous night – or rather, from the last week – caused him to enter some sort of delirious state? Was the restlessness born from the urgent desire to mend his relationship with his children? Was he so eager to know them, to get to love them again that he had been filled with energy at the prospect to do so? Or was it the dreams that plagued him every time he closed his eyes? Were the visions of white and striking blue and everything wrong enough to crawl under his skin and leave him entirely unnerved?

He supposed, as he took a sip of the amber liquid from his glass, that it was probably a combination of all of the above. The liquid scorched a fiery trail down his throat, allowing Georg a moment of solace. He focused on the burn and the numbing that followed. He found comfort in the sensation, as he always had.

His relief was short lived, however, as the fire in his throat dissipated, and the itch beneath his skin returned. The restlessness rattled his bones, and he knew he needed to do something, he just didn't know what. Of course, there were several things he could be working on – correspondences to keep up with, consulting work he could be doing, business dealings he could be attending to. There was no end to the things he could be doing to distract himself from the restlessness that vibrated his soul, and yet, he found none of it appealing.

He knew what he wanted to do, but he was hesitant. It was silly, really, he reflected as his fingers tightened on his glass. The way he had suddenly become uncertain in his own home. Why, only a couple of weeks ago, he hadn't given a damn as to what anyone else had thought, his children included. He winced as he recalled the harsh demeanor in which he spoke to them, the military coldness with which he had treated them.

But take that all away – the orders, the marching, the distance – Georg was well aware he didn't know how to talk to them. He didn't even know them. While they were, each and every one of them, his babies, they were all practically strangers to him now. He had spent years holding them at arm's length, and now he knew next to nothing about the seven most important people in his life.

He had made it through the previous night by some miracle. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins following the argument with Fraulein Maria and the sound of his children's voices raised in song had gotten him through the night. He had smile and laughed and gotten his way through dinner, but breakfast that morning had been a different story.

It was jarring to him now the ease in which he was able to lean on Fraulein Maria the night before. It had been so easy to look to her in those moments of doubt at dinner, to find encouragement in her eyes. In those moments, he hadn't seen her surrounded by white, her pleading eyes looking up to him as he had in his dream, but he had simply seen an ally, a beacon of support. He had seen a young woman who had seemingly done the impossibly and made him see reason.

He hadn't been able to look at her that morning. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the images that lingered in the back of his mind, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to face her. She was under his employ, for God's sake, and she was a postulant. The very idea that he was thinking about her – let alone dreaming about her – in any other context than her being the governess of his children was entirely inappropriate. What would she think if she knew? What would the Reverend Mother think?

Perhaps that had been what had set him on edge at breakfast. He had hardly said two words to anyone, and he could sense the children's disappointment, along with hers. They had all been expecting more from him, for him to prove that his behaviour the previous evening wasn't a farce, that he was really going to make an effort. He had let them all down.

He shook his head, setting his glass down on the table as his head fell back against his chair. And what was he doing now? What he had always done – he was hiding away in his office like a coward. He was so afraid of disappointing those seven precious children that he was running away from them, again. He inhaled sharply. He couldn't do this, not anymore. He had made a vow to his children, to Fraulein Maria, to his wife that he would do right by his children from that point forward. No more running. No more hiding.

He stood then, straightening his tie and buttoning his suit jacket. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and took a steadying breath before his feet began to carry him from his study. With every step, he centered his control. He could do this. He could face them and own up to his mistakes and do better by them, for them. He could learn about his children once again, and he could be a father to them. He could stop running and embrace his family.

He halted outside the schoolroom doors, the first and only twinge of reluctance forming in the pit of his stomach. He squashed it immediately. It certainly wouldn't do. Instead, he peered through the ajar door, his eyes falling over the profiles of the children's faces. They were faced towards the front of the room where Fraulein Maria stood, waving her hands rather enthusiastically in reference to something. He couldn't quite make out the words or the topic they were on, but he'd never seen his children so engaged.

He watched for a moment. He saw the way they raised their hands with answers to questions their governess asked. He saw the way they laughed; heads thrown back at something Fraulein Maria said. He saw the way they listened – really listened – to every word she had to say with rapt attention. If he had thought she had them wrapped around her finger before, he had been utterly mistaken. They were enchanted by her, captivated by her. There was a twinge of jealousy that struck Georg in the chest as he watched the way they looked at her. There was not a hint of fear or pain in their eyes, not like there was when they looked at him.

He shook the guilt and jealousy from him. He would not spiral into a pit of self-pity. He had always found the notion to be a waste of time anyways. Instead, Georg stepped through the threshold.

"So, you see, Louisa, to answer your question – oh! Captain, was there something you needed?" Fraulein Maria asked him, the surprise evident in her features as he made his presence known. Seven pairs of eyes snapped over to where he stood, the shock and skepticism clear. Quickly, he shook his head.

"I was just coming up to see how your lessons were coming along," he replied, given a soft smile to his children. To his delight, he found that they smiled back, and a warmth flooded his veins at the sight. He had forgotten what their smiles looked like, and he feared he would never tire of the sight.

"You're welcome to join us," Fraulein Maria suggested. He glanced in her direction for the first time that morning. She was giving him an encouraging smile, to which he returned, willing his mind to repress any untoward thoughts relating to his dreams. He nodded, stepping into the room and pulling out the chair next to Brigitta.

"And what is the focus of study today?" he asked lightly, looking to his daughter next to him.

"Fractions, father," Brigitta replied with a beaming smile. He returned the smile, glancing back up at Fraulein Maria.

"I was actually just about to hand out their worksheets for the day, Captain," she spoke almost sheepishly, uncertain of herself. She turned towards the desk beside her, picking up a pile of papers.

"By all means, Fraulein. Don't let my presence deter from the lesson," he replied, keeping his tone light. She gave him a nod accompanied by a flustered flash of a smile. She was nervous. It was clear in her body language and the way she eyed him cautiously. He made her nervous. He found it odd in a sense – she had no trouble berating the cold and distant father yesterday, nor weeks before he had left for Vienna, but now, when there was a gentleness in his tone and warmth in his eyes, she seemed entirely unsure of herself.

She began to hand out the worksheets to the children, who dutifully picked up their pencils and got straight to work. He watched in awe as each one of his children put up no protest, gave no utterance under their breath at the maths work they were required to do. They simply got straight to work. Even little Gretl, who he had witnessed make a fuss over schoolwork on numerous occasions, simply examined the questions and began scribbling something down.

He blinked several times at the scene, wondering if he was hallucinating. While his children had been rather studious in the years before their mother passed, what with tutors and extra curriculars, Georg had found it rather difficult to engage most of them in their studies in the years after. Governess after governess had tried and failed. The children put more effort into their pranks than their schoolwork.

He was caught entirely off guard now by the way they engaged with their work. He even watched as Louisa raised a hand, patiently waiting for Fraulein Maria to walk over to her to ask a question. What had she done to them? There was no hint of rebellion in the room – not a whisper of anarchy, and he had to wonder how she had tamed the infamously unruly von Trapp children. What kind of spell had she cast upon them?

He found himself unable to ponder the question as he was being called.

"Father?" Marta called to him from a couple of desks away.

"Yes, Marta?"

"Could you help me?" she asked. Georg's brows raised as he tried to recall the last time one of his children had asked for his help. His traitorous eyes once again flickered to their governess, who only gave him a gentle smile in return.

He cleared his throat before standing from his seat, shuffling to the space beside Marta's desk. He crouched down next to her, his eyes scanning over the sheet before her.

"What is it you need help with?" he asked her, quietly enough so as not to disturb the others from working. The young girl pointed to a question in which she had obviously written and erased answers multiple times. Georg studied it briefly.

"Let's look at it like this, Marta, if cook prepared nine pieces of strudel, and Uncle Max ate three, and Kurt ate two, how many pieces of strudel would be left?" Georg asked. He watched as his daughter adorably began to count on her fingers. After a moment, she held up four fingers to him. He nodded. "Yes, so four of the nine pieces of the strudel would be left, that's your answer."

The girl looked beyond pleased as she wrote in her answer, and Georg couldn't help but feel the swell of pride he felt in helping Marta. He glanced up to where Fraulein Maria was watching him with a warm smile from over Louisa's head. He gave her a subtle shrug, the grin spreading across his face. She replied with a little nod – it's that simple, she was saying.

He spent the next several minutes alternating between providing math assistance to Marta and Gretl, both of whom were thrilled that their father was paying them such attention. He did his best to elicit as many giggles as he could from them, having not heard enough of the sound in the past few years.

When they were finished, Fraulein Maria clapped her hands together, requesting the worksheets back. Georg took that as his opportunity to interject.

"Fraulein?" Georg called gently. She faced him, a quizzical look on her face. "I was hoping that I might steal a few minutes of your time to speak with you."

She looked from him to the children, who from the corner of his eyes, he could see were passing anxious glances.

"But their literature lesson, sir, I-."

"Perhaps you'd all like to take a break this morning? It's a beautiful day outside," he said. The children stared up at him blankly. Surely, their father wasn't allowing them to miss their lessons. It was unheard of!

"Really, Father?" Gretl asked. Georg tapped her nose with his index finger.

"Yes, Gretl. Now, why don't you all run along and find something to occupy yourselves until lunch. Fraulein Maria will be along shortly," he said.

"Will she?" Kurt asked blankly. Georg could see the apprehensive looks on his children's faces as they looked between their father and governess. They were afraid that if they let Fraulein Maria go with him, he'd fire her.

"Yes," he spoke sincerely, "I promise."

The Fraulein nodded to the children reassuringly, and that seemed to do the trick. They began to file out of the room, casting wary glances back as they disappeared though the doors. Georg looked back to see Fraulein Maria standing awkwardly at the front of the room, the worksheets cast aside on her desk, as she wrung her hands before her. She wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

Georg shifted, settling back against one of the desks, his arms folding across his chest as he began to feel the stifling restlessness fall before him again. When the children had been there, when he was helping Marta and Gretl with their work, he felt as if he had been doing something – fulfilling a purpose. Now, he was sat in a room with the product of the dreaming that haunted him mercilessly, and he felt entirely out of control of the situation, entirely restless as to do something, but having no indication of what to do. It struck him that, just as she was unsure how to handle him while he wasn't barking orders or disregarding his children, he didn't know how to handle her when she wasn't being insubordinate or fighting him at every turn.

"Fraulein," he began, grateful that his voice sounded far more collected than he felt, "I had hoped to speak with you more on the matter we discussed last night."

"Of course, Captain," she said, a polite smile poised on her face.

"As it is my understanding, you have some concerns about the way the children spend their time."

"Oh, well, I-I… It's really not my place to say, sir. They are your children after all, and I truly don't want to-."

"Fraulein, please," he held up a hand to stop her. This certainly wasn't the young woman who had given him a dressing down only the day before. In fact, this didn't sound at all like the Fraulein Maria he had grown accustomed to in their brief time together. "I know you don't approve of the way I've run their lives, and right now, I don't disagree with you. I want to have an honest conversation about it. I want you to tell me what exactly you would change."

She still seemed hesitant to speak. She began to toy with her bottom lip between her teeth, still avoiding his gaze.

"I-It's not my place-."

"You didn't seem to have any qualms about expressing your dissatisfaction in regard to my parenting yesterday," he said. He caught the flash of shame that played across her features. "I heard you, you know."

"Sir?"

"Every word you said. They way I've treated them. They way I've brushed them off. I appreciate the way you spoke plainly and sincerely, and I'm offering you the opportunity to do so again. Obviously, the way that things have been operating are not ideal. I would be blind to not notice the way the children have seemingly flourished under your care, and so, I'd like to hear what you have to say. I would like to know what changes you would make to the routine of your charges."

A silence filled the space between them as the young woman seemed to think about what her employer had said. Just when he was beginning to feel the twinge of frustration rising in his chest at the unnerving silence, she spoke.

"They can't remain cooped up in the house all day. I agree with you on the importance of their lessons and mental stimulation, but they are children, sir. They need fresh air and exercise," she said quietly.

"I do recall giving you the instruction of marching them around the grounds each afternoon," he replied, repressing the smirk that tugged at his lips.

"Yes, breathing deeply as I recall," she muttered under her breath, making a face as she mimicked him. He felt that he should be taking more offence to her mockery of him, but instead, he found himself suppressing a chuckle. "Marching in formation is a fine exercise for cadets, but not for children. They should be able to run and play and enjoy themselves without the fear that they will be reprimanded for such."

"Are you suggesting that climbing trees should become part of their exercise regime, Fraulein?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes in his direction.

"I'm suggesting that their form of exercise be flexible to the children's discretion. Within reason, of course," she replied.

"Within reason?" he echoed. He crossed his arms, leaning against the desk behind him as he gave her an inquiring look.

"Obviously, nothing that would put the children at risk," she replied.

"Naturally," he said, raising his eyebrows in concession. "All right, physical activities that do not include marching. What else?"

He could see the hesitation that flickered across her features, but she steadied herself with a deep breath, soldiering on.

"We took field trips," she said, her voice quiet and small. This time, he allowed the smirk to show on his face.

"Ah, yes, when you were parading my children around Salzburg in drapes!" he exclaimed. Her brows furrowed as she gave him what could only be deemed a look of disappointment.

"Well, we certainly couldn't risk spoiling their straightjackets," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Oh, ho, Fraulein! I still haven't forgiven you for that one. The uniforms make them look dignified," he replied.

"They make them look like crewmates on a ship," she retorted, causing his brows to lift.

"Fitting for the children of a naval captain, don't you think?" was his reply. She only huffed in response, and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. This was the Fraulein he recognized – the one who gave as good as she got. "If I were to order some more material from town, could we retire the drapes?"

She seemed to think on this for a moment, her eyes studying the ceiling in contemplation.

"Could we retire the uniforms as well?" she asked boldly. He found that he wasn't surprised, nor was he as annoyed as he ought to be at the idea of getting rid of the children's uniforms.

"I have grown rather fond of them," he muttered. She threw him a glance that left no room for argument, and not for the first time, he felt himself more than willing to concede. "Fine, fine. We can retire the straightjackets."

A bright smile widened on her face.

"Now, have these field trips just taken place in Salzburg?" he asked.

"Not entirely," she replied sheepishly. Georg inclined his head to indicate that she should continue. "We would walk around the outskirts of town as well, the grounds near the villa, and we would go up to my mountain."

"Your mountain, Fraulein?" Georg asked, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk as he saw the hue in her cheeks darken.

"Well… yes, sir. You see, I was brought up on that mountain. It's been more of a home to me than anywhere else," she replied quickly, avoiding his eyes.

"Even the Abbey?" he was powerless to stop the words before they fell from his lips. He bit his tongue after the words came out, cursing his slip of tongue. He was there to talk about the children, he had no right to ask such personal – or such inappropriate – questions, especially in regard to her faith to the Abbey.

She fixed him with a curious glance before looking away completely, wringing her hands again. After a moment, she cleared her throat.

"I was actually hoping to speak with you about taking the children there tomorrow," she muttered, more to the floor than to him. Georg immediately kicked himself. He had made her uncomfortable. In fact, she wasn't even about to acknowledge his question, not that he minded. If she wanted to change the subject, he was glad for it.

"Of course, as long as the children are on track with their lessons, I don't see any reason why not," he replied, earning a soft smile from the governess. She still refused to look him in the eye, rather, looking past him than at him. Georg internally cursed. He had just brought her back out of her shell and then he'd gone and made her uncomfortable again.

"Thank you, Captain," she said quietly. Georg nodded briefly, opening his mouth to apologize or put her at ease, but he didn't get that far.

"Georg?" a voice called from down the hallway. Georg rolled his eyes, knowing that voice anywhere.

"Max, we're in here," he called back. In a moment, the self-proclaimed charming sponge stepped through the doorway.

"I saw the children outside with no supervision and no lessons in hand. Really, Georg, what happened to the tight ship you were running?" Max teased.

"A bit early for you, isn't it Max?" Georg asked, checking his wristwatch. It was only quarter past ten, and Georg couldn't recall the last time he had seen Max up and lucid before noon.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I went to bed rather early last night without a bottle of your finest vintage to keep me company," Max replied in exaggeration. Georg cast a glance in Fraulein Maria's direction, giving a theatrical eyeroll that made her giggle, shooting a brief feeling of triumph through his veins. He was simply happy the tension in the room had dispelled.

Upon Max's bewildered glance between the two of them, Fraulein Maria straightened her features immediately.

"I should go see what the children are up to," she announced. Georg nodded.

"Of course, Fraulein. I thank you for your input and honesty this morning," he replied. She bowed her head in his direction.

"Anytime, Captain," she said before walking past him and Max out of the room. Georg focused on Max, willing his eyes not to follow her out.

"What was that about?" Max asked once Fraulein Maria was out of earshot. Georg shrugged halfheartedly.

"It's not really any of your business, Max," he replied stiffly.

"Don't tell me you were giving that girl a hard time," Max said.

"What on earth would give you that idea?"

"You haven't always been the most hospitable with the governesses," Max muttered. Georg scoffed.

"I pay them handsomely to do a job, I can't help it if they are incompetent," he shot back. "Besides, Fraulein Maria is different."

"Yes, I've noticed a bit of a change around here," Max spoke carefully, clearly asking a question without asking.

"They like her," Georg muttered quietly, struggling to hide the awe that echoed in his voice.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Max supplied. Georg could feel the other man's eyes searching his face, as if looking to find something there beneath the creases.

"Was there something I could do for you Max?" Georg asked gruffly. He glanced at his wristwatch again, as if he had somewhere – anywhere – else to be other than there, having that conversation with Max.

"Yes, actually!" Max exclaimed, scooting a little closer to Georg. "I wanted to talk to you about Elsa."

Georg rolled his eyes, straightening up from where he had been leaning against the desk.

"Once again, Max, it's really none of your business," Georg replied in exasperation. He really wasn't in the mindset to have this conversation with Max. He had begun to feel the shaky restlessness settle back into his bones. He had hoped that having a conversation with Fraulein Maria, the restlessness would fade or dissipate entirely, but he only seemed to feel it more acutely in the moments afterwards.

"Surely, bringing her back to the villa means you intend on proposing," Max continued, without a second thought as to Georg's attempt to stop him.

"Max!" Georg exclaimed. "I do not believe I'm obligated to let you know of my intentions."

"Well, I am here as a chaperone, and I think it's only fair that I am aware of the circumstances," Max retorted, an amused smirk on his face as he watched Georg squirm. Georg frowned.

"You have never taken your role as chaperone seriously before," Georg muttered.

"Yes, well, who am I to stop the passions of love?" Max said, clearly taking pleasure in the way the tips of Georg's ears reddened. "However, this has been going on for a while now, and you know Elsa, eventually she's going to want more."

Georg sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Yes, he did know that. He knew a woman of her grace and status would not be content being courted for years. Naturally, the next step would be marriage. It was the right step – right for Elsa, right for the children, and ultimately, he supposed, right for him. On paper, it made sense. On paper, he and Elsa were perfect. Yet, Georg hadn't quite been able to fully commit to the idea. It felt like a betrayal in some sense.

"It is okay to not be ready," Max said softly.

"And yet, you are sitting here, encouraging me to propose," Georg grumbled.

"I am sitting here, as your friend and as Elsa's friend. Sure, I would love to see the two of you marry, but I also want to see you happy. I'm simply saying that if you are not ready to get remarried, you need to be honest with yourself and with Elsa. She deserves to know whether she's wasting her time or not," Max suggested.

"Since when have you become the voice of reason?" Georg asked.

"Since I've been forced to be sober for twenty-four hours," Max replied bitterly. He gave quick shake of his head before hopping off the desk he had been sitting on. "Now, why don't you think about I've said as we take a little trip to your wine cellar?"

"Max, you truly are unbelievable," Georg grumbled, yet he began shuffling out of the room with Max anyways.

"That might be just about the nicest thing you have ever said about me," Max said, clapping a hand on Georg's shoulder. Georg brushed it off, rolling his eyes as he led Max towards the cellar, ultimately deciding that he liked a drinking, entertaining Max far more than he liked a reasonable, wise Max.

But as he made his way down to the cellar with Max, giving absent answers to Max's mindless chatter, Georg couldn't help but feel that restlessness clawing its way under his skin again. It was an entirely irritating sensation, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch, and what worse, was he couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Initially he had believed it was his lack of interaction with the children that morning, the need to do something to erase the memory of their disappointed faces in his mind. But he had solved that in a sense, hadn't he? He had found relief, however temporary, in the smiles of his children and their plea for his assistance. He felt he should be sated, that the restlessness should have dissipated, shouldn't it have?

He desperately tried to shake off the irritability that came with the restless gnawing of his mind. Georg was nothing if not a man known for his remarkable control and composure, and he would act as such, even if, at the very depths of his mind, he was beginning to suspect a certain governess was the sole contributor the restlessness within him.