The Island

It was coming to the end of summer, but one would never know it from spending the day on Milos. The afternoon sun beat down upon the rocky island, so it became impossible to tell if the heat was coming from above or below. The sand scorched under her feet. Even the normally refreshing breeze was languid, the salty air heavy and pressing in around her.

Slowly, she walked the length of the beach, back toward the dark blip in the sand that was her slippers and sunhat. The heat was searing enough it created a vision of waves in the air, an illusion of water in the sand. It must have been the heat, for whenever she looked out toward the sea, she thought she could see a sleek grey yacht sailing on the water.

She didn't stop. She had seen it often enough now that she no longer felt her breath catch or her heart leap in her chest. She didn't know why she continued walking along the shores of the island as often as she did – it was madness, relief, and torture.

She wasn't waiting. Not really. After all, he never did say he was coming back.

It had been weeks, now. Georg had been gone almost as long as he'd been on the island.

The night they'd spent in her apartment, waiting out the storm, Maria had not been wrong to feel that he was saying goodbye. Only, in the intervening day between that night and his departure, he'd turned her life upside down. And she'd let him – let him comfort her, let him get too close, let him sweep her away and returned what he offered with all she had.

The image of him poised over her, cherishing her, claiming her, surrendering to her – it was seared into her memory.

Maria had woken that next morning, chased from her heady and exhilarating dream clearly carried over from their time together on the boat by a sense of frustration, of something unfinished and possibly unattainable. She'd felt an overwhelming sense of wanting, of rebelling at having to wait. Throughout the day, the wanting, the waiting, became more urgent, heightened, almost frantic, when he didn't show up on her balcony after her return from the cemetery. For the first time on weeks, she prepared for her shift at the Siren without having seen him all day.

But she didn't want to believe it. Her eyes searched for him when she arrived at the Siren. His usual table was empty. It wasn't until Stavros intercepted her as she was getting ready for the show, giving her a piece of paper that had been folded neatly into an envelop, that Maria felt something give. Her name was written on the top in a script she had come to recognize too well.

It had been inevitable. She shouldn't have been surprised, should have been prepared. She shouldn't have felt like something was crashing down around her. She shouldn't have been so disoriented as to bolt out of the tavern and down to the docks - shouldn't have felt the need to see it with her own eyes, the empty berth where his yacht had docked for so many days.

For Georg had stated very simply and very clearly in his note that something had come up which was taking him away. And most regretfully he had to say farewell.

It should not have brought her to her knees. And yet it did.

It should not have brought tears to her eyes. And yet it did.

Georg would have left sooner or later. She just didn't know until that moment that it would feel so unbearable.

And Maria wept, keeping vigil alone on the docks for so long she didn't bother going back to the Siren when she finally stumbled home, eyes stinging and legs stiff.

But it was only the once. Maria never cried over him again. She couldn't say she grieved for Captain Von Trapp – for what was there to grieve over? She couldn't even say that she felt sad. There only remained a fierce ache in her chest, which sometimes made breathing feel like fire. Maria supposed it would ease up over time.

As much as she didn't want to think about it, she couldn't help but wonder why he had left with such urgency in the middle of the night. Had something truly come up? Something with his children perhaps? She wanted to believe it, because it was the only explanation that brought her any measure of comfort.

Or perhaps… oh, but it was painful to consider, she could hardly breathe!

Georg had left her apartment with her that last morning downright cheery, and had returned uptight and quiet in the evening. She had trusted him. Wanted him. Left all her cards on the table, despite her best judgment. Had she been too much, or not enough?

Or was he, yet again, running away? Maria knew now, beyond a doubt, that he had wanted her, that day on his yacht. His kisses had been desperate, his touches marked, and he'd looked at her like he'd been about to devour her. But Captain Von Trapp, she also knew, was in the business of pushing away what he wanted. Needed. Deserved.

She would never know. Perhaps he himself didn't quite know.

But at least he could have said goodbye.

Well, he did say goodbye. In his note. What else had she expected?

And so Maria went back to her daily routine on the island – for what else was there to do? She marked her days with her daily pilgrimage to the church, and her evening shifts at the Siren. Stavros said nothing about the Captain who had vanished in the middle of the night, but she sensed that he watched her while she wasn't looking. He was as demanding as ever, but she found she didn't mind. Maria played her guitar with single-minded determination. She was brighter than ever before, her banter wittier, her dancing wilder.

Maria threw herself into life, as though out to prove that it could go on. She didn't want to say she was salvaging it, because what, after all, had she lost?

Maria had never before made friends at the Siren. She was friendly with the girls, who in turn had always been nice to her, the sweet little guitar player with the tragic past, who never competed over the availability of men. But there was a sense of sisterhood among them, confiding, advising, supporting each other in this chaotic industry, spending their days painting their nails or getting tanned on the beach. Maria had never felt like she fit in, and did not try to, if she were honest.

Things seemed to change in the days after Georg's departure. Maria did not know if she herself had changed, or whether the girls were taking pity on her, going out of their way to keep her spirits up. The night after she had run out on them before the cabaret had even started was the hardest, the night after she learned he was gone. Maria worked at the bar, feeling like everybody knew, like everyone was judging her for being too foolish, too naïve. But to her surprise, they seemed to rally around her. Jenny, who was bubbly and nice to everybody, stood in line next to her during the dance, and gave her a nudge on the shoulder and a friendly wink before going on stage. Netta, the most reserved of all the girls after Maria, helped her out at the bar – even though Maria kept herself so busy the other girl didn't have much to do besides keep the counter spotlessly clean.

One shift, a patron asked for a cocktail, which reminded her so suddenly of Georg she went rigid on the spot. The first time they'd met, he'd ordered her a drink with the same ingredients, telling her it reminded him of her dress. That evening, she had been wearing the dirndl she had made for herself when he heard her play on the stage. That evening, they had talked long into the night. That evening, they had kissed by the shores of the Aegean. Maria froze, and the customer peered strangely at her, wondering why she suddenly looked like she'd seen a ghost.

It was Cayenne, loud, spirited Cayenne, who swooped in. "You do not want that, mon cheri," she told him in her suggestive French accent, sliding coyly into the booth next to him. "You want an island drink. An ouzo."

The man, completely distracted, nodded agreeably. Cayenne gave her a quick, reassuring nod before turning back to him, allowing Maria to escape into the back dressing room.

Even Cayenne's comment about the ouzo triggered memories of sharing drinks and Georg's low, teasing voice. Maria took a long moment to recover herself. She could not let that happen again.

The nights were hard, but at least she would get home so exhausted she tumbled straight into bed and into an immediate, dreamless sleep. It was a relief, and the alternative was far, far worse. When Georg appeared in her dreams, she felt disoriented for days.

The days were harder. She just couldn't stay home, so the long stretches of days saw her walking like a lunatic along the beach, trying to think nothing at all. For when she did, no matter which direction her thoughts took, it would inevitably all come rushing back.

So when the girls invited her for lunch one day, she agreed readily.

But as Maria reached the little cafe by the docks at the appointed time, she balked. It was absurd, how navigating the small island felt like a minefield these days. How could simply standing at the threshold of the small bakery brought back such vivid images of her breakfast with Georg, of the day that followed? Their last day together. If that morning on the boat had never happened – would he have taken off? Would she miss him like she did?

It was too late for ifs.

She spotted the bright red of Cayenne's dyed hair and the light blonde of Jenny's long locks – Californian sun-kissed, she'd heard the girl refer to them – before they saw her, already seated at a table for four on the patio. Not the same table she had sat at before with him, but close by.

Maria sucked in a breath, just as Jenny looked up and saw her, giving her a cheerful wave.

Could she pull herself together yet again? It felt exhausting. Felt pointless. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run back to her apartment, and bury herself under the covers for the rest of the day.

Maria wavered, until a slim arm slipping through hers caused her to jump in surprise. "Good morning to you too." Netta appeared at her elbow, dark hair pulled into a loose bun. She was smiling, and Maria managed a wobbly one in return.

"Are you alright?" Netta looked her over in concern. Her wide, dark eyes were mild and gentle, belying a wicked wit and dry British humour.

Maria hesitated. She wanted to be alright. And she knew from past experiences that if she pretended long enough, tried hard enough, one day it would be.

The other girl's eyes softened, as though she understood. "Come, the others already have a table. Sit with us for awhile."

And so Maria did. The girls welcomed her warmly, and there was no expectation for her to keep up her end of the chatter. At first, it was an effort just to listen, but she soon found herself relaxing in their company. The girls talked cheerfully about the new clothing shop that had opened up in town, and the swimwear they had glimpsed in the storefront.

Netta shook her head vehemently. "You ladies go ahead. I never want to shop for another bathing suit again in my life."

"She has a suitcase full of them," Jenny reported, and Netta nodded in confirmation, although she didn't look enthused by the idea.

"Really?" Cayenne and Maria asked together. Maria herself had only learned the basics of swimming as a lifesaving measure, and never much liked it. Living in landlocked Austria her entire life, she never had reason to own a swimsuit.

"I used to work on a cruise line. It was part of the ensemble."

"What was that like?" Cayenne asked, eyes wide. Cruise ships were still a novelty for Milos' residents. They never docked, but the big, luxury vessels passing by on the horizon still caught the eye of anyone looking.

Netta shrugged. "It was alright. It was either that or settle down and be married back home in London, and I wasn't ready for that."

"Wait – you got away from home on a cruise ship, to come here?"

"I worked for three years. But then my employer changed. He – he wasn't a good man." She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as thought trying to ward of the memories. Cayenne and Jenny exchanged dark looks, while Maria, who was seated beside her, automatically reached over to grasp her arm. "I got off the first stop I could. I don't regret it."

Jenny shook her head. "Powerful men are such creeps."

"Hey, what's this vitriol about men, now?" Theo, the son of the bakery owner, approached their table, serving tray in hand. Tanned with a thatch of thick, dark hair, he looked more like a sailor than a baker.

Jenny smiled sweetly at him. "It's so hard to find a good one."

"That's because you haven't been looking in the right places," Theo deadpanned. Cayenne rolled her eyes, while Maria hid a smile behind her hand. There was something quite charming about their coy banter.

Jenny shook her head, heaving a sigh. "There are no gentlemen left in the world."

Theo set down their plates with a flourish, moving around the table with ease. "Maybe in America," he told her. "Here, we are all gentlemen."

He caught Maria's eye, and she returned his broad, approachable smile. She liked Theo – had known him quite well, once upon a time, when a little boy with the sweetest tooth had brought her down to the bakery almost every day.

"And we cook," he informed Jenny, causing her and Netta both to giggle. Maria missed her response, and the rest of their flirtatious exchange, lost in memories of the way Georg had cooked for her, the way she'd teased him about it.

"Enjoy your lunch, despoinidas." With a gallant bow, Theo backed away from their table, flashing his white teeth in a smile. If anyone noticed Maria frozen to her chair yet miles away, nobody commented on it.

Cayenne was looking after him, half in exasperation, half in amusement. "Remind me again why you two haven't gotten together?"

Jenny shook her head. "We can't. He's the sweetest boy. The kind you take home to meet your parents."

She sighed. Cayenne and Netta shared a significant look, leaving Maria wondering what item of significance she'd missed.

"He can be your sweet boy, without meeting your parents," Cayenne suggested helpfully.

Jenny only rolled her eyes, and turned to Maria. "I'm not on speaking terms with my family," she explained matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Still stumbling out of her fog, Maria struggled for a response. Was having a troubled past a prerequisite for working at the Siren?

"My parents were dancers," Jenny continued. "Well, my mother was a dancer, and my father was manager of a ballet company in New York. They wanted nothing more than for me to become a dancer. I trained all my life in classical ballet. They were thrilled – had a grand party and everything – when I was accepted into Julliard. I was well into my second year before I realized I hated it. Ballet had never been for me, and so I quit. My parents threatened to cut me off if I did – and they did."

Maria's instinct was to offer sympathy, but it was clear Jenny was happy here. She couldn't help but feel a stab of sadness, as she always did when she heard stories of families torn apart. She'd never had much of one, and the concept of it was precious, but she could understand Jenny's desire for freedom, for independence, for fun, when her life had never been hers to lead.

"I miss them though, sometimes," Jenny added.

This Maria could definitely appreciate. She nodded. "I lost my parents when I was young, too."

Jenny nodded back slowly. "I heard you worked as a governess before you came to the island?"

Netta cleared her throat while Maria hesitated. "She was as a governess here in Milos, too. Her employer died in the boating accident during the storm, remember?"

Jenny was the only one of the girls to arrive on the island after her, after Maria had already started working at the Siren. Everybody else knew her story, more or else – she'd never had to tell it before, except to Georg.

The other girl looked mortified. "Oh, that's right – I'm so sorry, Maria. I shouldn't have said anything. Please don't let it ruin your day."

Maria shook her head. It was impossible to doubt Jenny's sincerity. "It's alright. Really, I don't mind. I suppose I just haven't had much practice talking about it – and the more you talk about it, the easier it gets."

"That's true," Netta said solemnly, while Jenny nodded.

"Is that also true of that Captain of yours?"

"Cayenne!" Jenny shushed, looking aghast. "Too soon!"

Cayenne made a face at her. "So says the girl who showed up to my apartment crying at two in the morning."

"That was different – that was a fling. Not someone I actually…" Her eyes flickered in Maria's direction, and she fumbled, "… cared about?"

"Maria," Netta said gently, "do you want to talk about it?"

Maria gave Netta a small, grateful smile, and another for Cayenne and Jenny to let them know she appreciated their concern and wasn't upset, however they tried to go about it.

But Georg – would she ever get to a place where she wanted to talk about Georg?

"I'm embarrassed," Maria admitted, for that much was true, at least. "I didn't expect anything to happen. I really should have known better."

All three girls murmured sympathetically, and rushed to reassure her that they had all fallen for men during work at one time or another.

"We've all been through it. We're in the job of getting our hearts broken," Jenny proclaimed, reaching across the table to give Maria's hand a squeeze.

"Not me," Cayenne retorted.

"That's because you don't have a heart," Jenny returned, and Cayenne made a face at her.

Maria couldn't help but giggle. After all, wasn't that was sisters did, supported you and lifted your spirits?

"I'll tell you what." Jenny turned to Maria. "What don't you come bathing suit shopping with me after lunch? You have the next few days off too, right? Tomorrow we're going to the beach."

Maria hesitated. She had been dreading these next few days alone, without work to keep her busy. But she knew next to nothing about swimwear. "I'm not sure I'll be very helpful," she said.

"Whatever Jenny tries on, just smile and nod," Netta put in, and everyone laughed.

They parted ways after lunch. Cayenne went home to nap and Netta wanted to buy some groceries before her shift started. She waited with Maria while Jenny went to find Theo to invite him to their beach outing. They watched her walk toward him, where he was managing a stack of plates. He gave her a warm smile, and her eyes fairly sparkled.

Maria turned to Netta, and they exchanged knowing smiles.

"Maria," Netta said suddenly, linking arms with her. "You are a rock. I can't tell you how many times I've admired you, the way you hold your head high after all you've been through. The way you still find a reason to laugh. I'd be so full of envy if I didn't admire you so much."

Touched, Maria leaned into her friend. "I suppose I've just gotten into the habit of waiting for the sun to come out. It always does."

"You must think we're crazy, running away from home and the people who love us like little children throwing a tantrum." Netta sighed, touching her head to Maria's.

She was silent a moment, thoughts drifting to Georg. He was one of the finest, bravest men she knew, piled high with accolades from his navy career, decorated with more medals than he could wear at once. And yet hadn't he, too, run away from home? From the people who loved him?

Maria gave her hand a squeeze. "I don't think that at all," she reassured.

"The man my mother wanted me to marry was almost twice my age," Netta confided. "They were furious when I refused, because he came with money, and lots of it. I think the real reason I left was to show them I could do better. It seems petty, doesn't it?"

She shook her head. "No. I think you're brave, Netta."

Netta sighed morosely. "At this rate, I'm destined to become an old spinster."

Maria chuckled. "Just you wait – on your adventures one day, you'll meet somebody. Somebody kind, who'll touch your mind, and then suddenly touch your heart." She finished in a playful tune, which surprised and delighted the other girl.

Netta laughed. "It'll happen to you, too. And when it does," she gave Maria a nudge, "I hope you'll jump up and go."

Jenny finally returned to them, bright eyed and smiling. Theo waved over at the trio as they left the little restaurant. The three girls meandered over to the market, where Netta bade them farewell, and then Jenny led Maria to the new store in town.

Maria couldn't truthfully say she enjoyed shopping for swimwear. She herself didn't buy anything, not at all interested in either swimming or sun-tanning, as Jenny raved about. She was a poor judge of bathing suits, she decided, after the other girl had appeared in a parade of different outfits. But Jenny was funny and self-deprecating, and excellent company, and not for one moment did Maria find her thoughts wandering.

"Does this make my shoulders look hunky?" She asked, pirouetting in front of the changing room mirror.

"No – I think the ruffles are lovely," Maria said, from where she was ensconced on a settee. "But it's very…uhm, pink."

Jenny seemed to take her comments as gospel, changing if Maria showed the slightest hint of hesitation.

"Is this square?" She demanded, scrutinizing the last swimsuit of the pile.

"Um – square?" Maria asked hesitantly, wondering if the word in Greek meant what it actually meant. Jenny twisted toward her, wearing a modest green suit that reached almost to her knees.

"Yeah, you know, like, square?" The other girl made a square with her hands.

Maria nodded, slowly. "Is square good or bad?"

"Maria – it's bad!" Jenny groaned, then disappeared back into the changing room.

In the end, Jenny selected a bold red polka-dotted number, which she wore the next day to the beach. The girls favoured a wide-open stretch of sand to the east of the island, where the water was warm and generally calm. Maria seemed to gravitate towards beaches that were windy and secluded, which was probably why she'd never run into them during her walks along the shore.

Several other girls from the Siren had shown up, eight in total, plus Theo. Cayenne promptly set up her towel for a snooze in the sun, while Netta, Jenny, and her good friend Mavis chose to go for a swim. Two of the others invited Maria on a hike, but she opted to stay behind on the beach. She sat on the sand in her light cotton dress and watched her friends splash about in the water.

For the first time in weeks, Maria did nothing, and felt relaxed.

A shadow cast in the sand next to her caused her to look up. Theo was standing beside her. "May I?" He asked in heavily accented German.

Maria smiled and nodded, and Theo took a seat beside her. His shirt-sleeves and pant legs were rolled up, his shoes full of sand, an island boy through and through. He was wearing a fedora, which he now offered to Maria as she squinted at him.

She shook her head politely.

Theo was an entertainer, she knew, a happy and pleasant presence everywhere he went, but for awhile they were content to sit in silence, neither feeling pressured to talk.

"I've missed this," he commented at last, reverting back into Greek.

There was a wistfulness in his voice that caused Maria to look curiously over at him.

""It's been a long time since we've sat like this," he shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

Maria thought she knew what he meant – but she had not expected him to feel it so keenly. When she had been a governess, she had taken Johannes down to the shore almost every day. They frequently stopped at the bakery, and sometimes Theo had joined them for their picnics on the beach. Johannes had loved him, had looked up to him like a brother, and Theo had treated him like one. Maria had been so consumed by her own grief she hadn't stopped to think how Theo had felt over Johannes' departure.

"I miss him," Theo said, as though he could read her mind.

"I do, too."

Theo grinned. "Remember the time he got himself stuck up in a tree?"

Maria smiled back. "Do I ever! That was the only time I regretted teaching him how to climb trees. Thank goodness you were there. I don't think even I could have made it up that high."

"What about that time he drank three large glasses of lemonade and became sick?" Maria shook her head ruefully while Theo howled. That imp had somehow charmed a glass of lemonade from each of them and Theo's father without any of the others knowing, and Theo had had to clean up the mess when Johannes threw up all over the bakery floor.

They continued to exchange stories of the little boy – the memories coming thick and fast now that they allowed themselves to think about it. Maria found herself laughing, so much that the girls in the water turned to glance at them.

"I miss your singing," Theo confessed. "You two used to sing all the time – you could make up a song about anything."

Maria sighed. Was there any use now in missing it?

Theo was silent for a moment, in astute response to the expression on her face. "Did you know," he said at last, "that I can play the pan flute?"

Maria looked at him, feeling the flutter of excitement that only came from music. "Can you? I didn't know – you've never played for us before."

Theo laughed. "I've never brought the thing down to the bakery. There's too much flour in the air I'd never be able to clean it out. But I'll play it for you one day."

"You should play at the Siren! Our lineup could use some classical Greek music."

Theo ducked his head. "Maria, I've never set foot in the Siren. It seems wild in there – I'd feel so small as an islander."

Maria shook her head in protest, running with her stroke of inspiration. The Siren was loud and raucous, but it wasn't such a beast once you got used to it. "Would you? If I asked Stavros?"

Theo considered this. "I might. My old man should be able to spare me for a night."

He gave her his trademark smile, and without reservation, Maria found herself returning it.

True to her word, Maria asked Stavros during her next shift whether Theo could play his pan flute, not as background music, but as a special set to showcase local music. After some deliberation, he agreed. The crowd loved it. The music was folksy and upbeat, and more often than not, a patron would jump up and catch one of the girls around the waist to dance between the tables. Theo became a regular at the Siren.

Maria clapped along to his music, and didn't even mind when she was asked to dance, although sometimes extracting herself from the situation afterward was challenging. Theo even persuaded her into composing a few duets together, for pan flute and guitar.

Yes, she was forging ahead. Whenever she felt that overwhelming ache creeping in, she hit back at it twice as hard.

There was never shortage of work at the Siren. Theo's presence even brought a local population into the tavern, and when he played, the place felt more like a large family gathering than a bar. Maria liked the change. Stavros encouraged it, except the one night when the local crowd became so enthusiastic they started smashing plates, and he'd quickly put an end to that.

Maria was sweeping up broken bits of ceramic, Theo's suddenly gentler music encouraging patrons back into their seats for a cozy mug of ale, when she heard Stavros's distinctive call. "Captain!" She couldn't help but jerk upward, a reflex response to the familiarity of the shout. But he was blocking her view of the door, and Maria returned to her task at hand.

Moments later, Jenny, who had been helping distribute new dinnerware to the guests, appeared at her elbow and gave her an urgent nudge. "Maria, look!"

Netta, sweeping on Maria's other side, let out a gasp. Jenny indicated the entrance. "See whose come back!"

Maria looked up once again, and then did a double take, straightening abruptly. All of a sudden, there was no Jenny, no Netta. No Stavros. No patrons. No tavern.

There was only the tall, dark-haired, impeccably dressed Captain, wearing a trachten jacket that seemed incredibly out of place, looking steadily back at her with fathomless blue eyes.

Maria froze, sure if she blinked and opened her eyes, that image would be gone. But it wasn't.

Captain Von Trapp had come back.

He stood rigidly, as though unsure of his welcome, but a small helpless smile touched his lips as they stared at one another.

"Good evening, Maria." His voice was quiet, but she heard his soft Austrian clearly from halfway across the room.

"Good evening."

Somewhere in the periphery, she saw Jenny and Netta link arms with Stavros, leading him away.

She might have walked, might have stumbled, the few steps that seemed to bring him closer. "You left… without saying goodbye." Her heart was beating so forcefully in her ears, she hardly heard her own words.

He, too, was moving toward her. "It was wrong of me." He was standing in front of her. "Forgive me."

"And you… came back." She blinked uncertainly.

He nodded.

For a moment she found it difficult to breath. "Why did you?" Her voice was a whisper, and she wasn't sure if she was asking about why he'd left, or why he'd come back.

"Maria," he said, the word a sigh. For a moment she wondered if he just wanted to say her name. She saw his hands clench at his sides, like he was keeping himself from reaching for her. The sight made something in her chest constrict.

"I was wondering... will you – "

He stopped abruptly as people started clapping around them. Disoriented, Maria looked around, before realizing everyone was cheering for Theo's performance. She saw him step off the stage, his fedora a beacon through the crowd. He was moving towards her, weaving easily around the tables. "Maria!" Theo's voice was breathless as he caught her by the wrist. "Come for our duet!"

Maria felt him tugging her toward the stage. She stumbled, tripping over something on the way, because all she could do was look back at Georg, who in turn, was staring at their joined hands.

A/N: I feel like a broken record, apologizing for my un-timely updates!

Also, disclaimer for the swimsuit scene - the conversation was inspired by a scene from "Dirty Dancing 2" where the girl discusses "square dresses" with her maid (I've forgotten their names but somehow the funny scene stuck with me!)

Thank you to all for reading and for leaving reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying this A/U story - I had particular fun this chapter getting to inject some new characters (if Maria is going to be heartbroken I might as well have some fun... ;) - and this adventure is nowhere close to being done. :) Would love to hear your thoughts! xx