The Harbour

The cabaret had ended for the night. Even Rhea, the lively young woman from mainland Greece hired as the new background musician, was packing up her guitar on stage. Stavros had waved her off long ago, but Maria had lingered. Lingered at the bar to tidy up, lingered in the dressing room, meticulously putting away her costume, lingered on the back doorstep of the Siren.

Georg had not stayed. Maria could not recall whether he'd ordered a drink, or where he went after she was pulled onto the stage. He was gone by the time she'd finished her set.

But he had come back.

Maria had been prepared never to see him again. After all, Milos had been a mere stopover for a weary sailor, held up by a broken hand. She'd offered her company far too freely, starved as she was for a piece of home. They had found themselves to be kin, to be friends. They could even have been – what was the term Cayenne used so endearingly for her patrons? – paramour. It was a sequence of events Maria never expected, couldn't predict and couldn't prevent, despite Georg's herculean effort to ensure they did not fall the common way of sailor and barmaid.

She could accept his departure. He had sailed out, as any sailor would, coming and going as unpredictably as a summer storm, and she had said her goodbyes during her long endless walks by the sea.

So why had he come back?

Maria couldn't keep telling herself that she would never know, for here he was, the answers she was seeking at her fingertips, frightening and overwhelming.

It was on the back doorstep of the Siren that Jenny and Netta found her, the former still dressed in her dancing clothes.

"The Captain left," Jenny announced, as though Maria hadn't noticed he was gone the moment she stepped offstage. "He said he had a long journey, and was returning to his boat."

"He didn't ask us to… pass on the message or anything," Netta added. "We just thought you might want to know."

Maria stared back at them, worrying her lower lip. "Then I should… let him rest."

Jenny's eyes widened. "Maria, are you mad?" She grabbed Maria's arm and gave it a little shake. At her side, Netta gave her a nudge.

"I don't know much about geography," Jenny continued, ignoring Netta's warning, "but I do know that oceans are huge and there are hundreds of islands in the Mediterranean alone. But the Captain chose to come back. As much as I wish otherwise, I don't think it's from a burning desire to see me. Or Netta. And certainly not Stavros."

At her side, Netta gave a long-suffering sigh. She took Maria's other hand. "This is so unexpected, isn't it?"

Maria could only shake her head. "It almost makes it harder," she murmured, half to herself.

Netta gave her hand a little squeeze. "Maria, are you in love with him?"

Stunned, Maria stared at them. Both girls were looking at her expectantly. In the long moment that followed, even the cicadas seemed to fall silent, waiting for an answer.

She knew better than to entertain such an idea, had always known better, and yet… could she say no, for certain?

"I – I don't know."

She looked away, and Netta slipped her arm sympathetically around her waist.

"Then you must find out!"

"Oh Jenny… I'm – I'm frightened." Her voice trembled. "I'm...confused. I – I don't know if I can face him again…"

Jenny looked back with huge eyes. "Maria, look where you are. The Siren, of all places, is not a place meant to shut out problems. You have to face them. Face him."

You should be looking for your life – looking for… love, instead of pandering to scoundrels.

Maria's breath caught. It was not Jenny's voice she heard. It was his voice, his words, which rang in her ears. What, after all, did she have to lose?

A life she had so painstakingly stitched back together. She exhaled.

Netta's hand tightened against hers. "If you don't try… then you will have lost." If was as if she'd heard her thoughts.

On her other side, Jenny threaded her arm through hers. Maria let herself stand there for a long moment, on the step of the Siren, next to her friends. Finally, she took a deep breath. What is the matter with me?

"A Captain out there on his boat, what's so fearsome about that?" She muttered as she set off into the night, and heard Jenny's answering chuckle.

Maria made her way down to the habour. There was only a sliver of moon tonight, but on an island of rock and whitewashed houses, the light was more than enough. Despite what she had told Jenny, she didn't know if she was brave enough to march onto Georg's yacht, to seek him out face to face. The mere thought of what they had done, what they had almost done, that day on that very yacht was enough to shake her of anything coherent.

In the end, she didn't have to find him on his boat, after all. He was sitting on one of the wooden benches along the dock, a distinguished figure silhouetted against the darkness, all lean lines and taunt muscles. It was a sharp contrast to when she'd first met him, slouched into a booth at the Siren. He was still, staring out at the water. There was something meditative about it, as though he had settled into that position and intended to remain that way all night.

Maria hesitated, her steps slowing against the wooden planks underneath. He turned when he heard her, and was on his feet in an instant.

"Hello."

His bright eyes gleamed in the night. He sounded almost boyish, eager and a little shy. It warmed her, yet made her tongue-tied as they looked at each other.

He had taken off his jacket, white shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows. She remembered how it'd felt, the material rough against her skin, in sharp contrast to the heat and slick sweat of his skin. He had a bit of a stubble now, just like he did when she'd first met him – Maria supposed he had no reason to stay clean-shaven in the middle of the sea – and she wondered briefly how that would feel against her.

Georg cleared his throat, and the way he looked quickly away made her wonder just what he'd been thinking about her. She was wearing a new dress that night, made from a lovely blue chiffon she had splurged on from the new clothing store, instead of buying a swimsuit. It had been folly to wear it down to the Siren, where it'd be nudged from its hook after Maria changed into her dancer's costume, and sat in a pile on the floor all the evening. But now – something in Georg's eyes when he'd looked at her made her glad she did.

Awkwardly, he indicated the bench. "Sit down. Please."

Maria perched on the bench, on the edge opposite him.

"Uh – may I?" It seemed an absurd thing to ask when he had just been sitting in the same spot mere moments ago, and he looked flustered as he sat back down.

For a moment they were silent. It felt familiar, if not exactly comfortable. Maria listened to the ebb and flow of the waves, feeling her breathing slow to match, before realized he was doing the same. She could feel his breath in the air between them, and found they had leaned in without meaning to. A small and swift smile crossed his lips as he caught her gaze, and she blushed and looked down.

Maria took a deep breath. "I was – wondering two things." She stared at her hands, clasped in her lap. She hadn't expected it to feel quite so intimate, and quite so awkward.

"Yes?" The word was a soft rumble.

Maria swallowed. "What was it… that made you sail off in the middle of the night, and what was it that made you come back?"

Georg paused for a moment. "Well, I went to see the children."

"Oh!" Maria inhaled sharply, taken aback. "The children?"

He inclined his head. "Yes."

She let the words settle. She'd hoped it was the case, but deep down, she hadn't been able to believe it. He would have told her, unless… "Are they alright?" Maria half-gasped, concern breaking through dumbfounded astonishment. What if it had been urgent? Something wrong?

"Oh – oh yes, yes, they're fine. Umm, let me see. Liesl is enjoying her experience as a freshman. And the rest of the children are settling well into the new semester. " Georg paused again, a fond smile touching his lips. "Their school in Switzerland – it's not far from Lausanne. Beautiful little town by the lake. I rented out an apartment there and had the children stay for the week."

"How wonderful!" Maria could see it. For the first time since she saw him that night, she returned his smile. He'd missed the children, had gone to visit them. She felt light, almost dizzy, like she might just suddenly float away, released by the heaviness that had weighed her down for so many weeks.

"I'd forgotten…" Georg trailed off, looking away, and she saw his hands clench against his legs. After a few moments his gaze returned to her, and he shrugged helplessly. "I've missed a lot of things. Their mischief, their laughter, their singing… hearing the word 'father' a hundred times a day."

Maria blinked. "Singing?"

"Ah, well – yes." Georg stumbled, and she thought he might be blushing, though it was hard to tell in the dark. "I suppose I'd grown accustomed to it, here with you, and found I rather missed it."

"I didn't know your children could sing."

He smiled. "The talent came from their mother, I can assure you."

Maria laughed softly, knowing full well Georg himself had been a musician, able to play everything from the guitar to the zither. She'd never heard him either play or sing, and gathered that since his wife's death, music seemed to bring more pain than pleasure. She, of all people, understood it. Respected it. But it was lovely and heartwarming to hear he was allowing it to creep back into his life, the same way he was allowing himself to reach out to the children.

"What is it?" He asked, voice low as he studied her expression.

"Oh, Georg – I'm just… glad you were able to spend time with the children, that you're letting them get close to you."

He ducked his head. "Well, someone helped this old sailor see that all is not lost, that he still has a family to anchor him." He shrugged a little. "We went on hikes. On bike rides and carriage rides around town. Stopped for pastries and chocolate shakes at the bakery and dined al fresco on the patio. Does that sound familiar, Maria?"

Maria inhaled. The things he'd done on the island – with her – Georg had taken them with him and used them to connect with the children. The thought made her heart beat a little faster.

But she gave a light shrug right back. "They're your children, Georg."

He nodded a little. "Yes, they are." The sudden gleam in his blue eyes was striking in the night. "But because of you, I am glad that they are."

Maria could no longer pretend indifference. Her breath caught, and they both heard her shaky exhale. Georg's eyes locked on hers. But just as she began to lean forward, he seemed to draw back. Maria straightened unsteadily. How was it so easy to lose herself with him? It was as if the past weeks had never happened.

"I want to tell you why I ended up in Lausanne." Georg's voice was low and rough. He seemed as off balance as she felt.

Maria blinked uncertainly. "Weren't you visiting the children?"

"Yes, but when I do, I usually stay at an inn much closer to the school."

"Oh, I see," she murmured, her thoughts and emotions struggling to catch up.

"When the children were otherwise occupied at school, I had the chance to drop in on an old friend of mine. There is a hospital in town where he now practices as a physician, you see."

Maria still did not see, but she nodded all the same.

"We once worked together in the navy – he was a military surgeon at that time. I would trust him with my life."

"Oh," she said vaguely. She reminded herself that the Georg she knew now was a different man from the decorated Captain Von Trapp, and the illustrious company that surrounded him. "What a fortunate coincidence."

"Maria." She responded immediately. It was a command, delivered as tenderly as if he'd touched her, taken her chin in his fingers so she couldn't help but look at him. "He is now a world-renowned throat surgeon."

"Oh!"

"I wanted to ask his opinion about your case," he said quietly.

"Oh."

Her hands shook. She felt as though she had frozen, but was trembling at the same time. Georg let her go, turning out toward the sea, even though she was still staring blankly at him. His posture was – no, not tense, she knew enough of his body, of him, to pick up the subtle difference – but vigilant. He remained silent, giving her time to absorb the shock.

She took a shaky breath.

All those weeks she had spent, falling, stumbling, wondering. And now he was giving her answers, and she had no idea what to do with it. She never expected to find that he had left, not because of her, but for her. She never expected that in answering her first question, he'd also answered her second. She never expected that he would come back, because he had always meant to come back.

"You didn't tell me you thought something could be done," Maria whispered.

"I didn't want to give you false hope if there was no chance."

His voice was gentle, his gaze a caress, as though he wanted to offer comfort. Maria stared at him. "And…?"

"It's hard for him to make that kind of assessment without examining you," he cautioned. "But I told him your story, what you told me about the accident. I – I took the liberty to offer my opinion on the quality and range of your voice as it is." He looked down briefly, and this time, Maria was certain he coloured a little. He cleared his voice. "Karl thinks there is a very good chance he can perform a surgery to improve your condition."

Maria exhaled, realizing only then she had been holding her breath. "Is that really possible?"

This time, Georg did reach over to her, covering the hand between them that gripped the edge of the wooden bench so tightly her fingers had turned white. He hand felt very warm. "I don't know Maria. But if you're willing, we can find out."

Her head snapped up toward him, while the rest of her went rigid.

We can find out.

The enormity of that offer wasn't lost on her. The chance to leave the island, the chance to recover her voice, the chance to start a new life. He might as well be handing her the moon. And yet…

There was a hint of a different offer in his voice, in his gaze, in his light touch. His eyes darkened as they looked at each other. She couldn't tell who was being pulled to whom, the space between them almost palpable, drawing them together yet again like some irrefutable law of physics. His thumb now tracing little circles against the back of her hand was almost certainly involuntary. She could only sigh in response.

It was an offer beyond his control. An offer he wasn't going to make. Couldn't make. A vagabond captain, an ex-baron, a father just barely rediscovering his children. He wasn't going to propose she make her home in the small cabin of his yacht, wasn't going to take her sailing around the world, wasn't going to introduce her to the world's seedy port bars every time he docked. He wasn't going to take her to Switzerland to present to his children. Even then, what could he even present her as? The lady of his vessel? His mistress? His acquisition from the island of Milos the way France had acquired Venus of Milos?

Maria pulled away, resisting the sudden urge to flee into the night. And she knew then, why he had left without a word. Because that day she too, had made an offer – would never be able to take back that offer, would never want to – one Georg would never accept, because he was too much of a gentleman.

She swallowed. "Georg, when you left…. I didn't know if – " Against her will, she heard her breathing hitch. Why was she chasing the confirmation she now knew without a doubt?

"I know, Maria," his said hoarsely. He didn't try to reach for her again. "I'm sorry. I was a coward. I had… lost control. The things you were doing to me Maria, you have no idea…"

"I have some idea," she muttered.

"And the things I wanted to do to you! Your innocence, your previous life as a postulate be damned.I was afraid, in a way I haven't been in years. I didn't want to hurt you." His eyes were very bright. "I am not going to hurt you."

She felt her eyes fill. "You wouldn't hurt me," she said. But as she said it, she saw herself crying on her knees on these very docks before her. She recalled mindlessly trudging through never-ending days, the exhausting way she barely held herself together. Maria had felt his departure as keenly as she had felt every other loss in her life. Would she put herself through that again? Would she put herself through much more, by giving him all of her?

Even a Baroness had not been able to hold him.

"Forgive me," he said again, his voice cracking. He hesitated. "These weeks were… difficult, for me too. But now, seeing you back there at the Siren – it was the right thing to do."

"What do you mean?" She asked. But she knew. Georg would say that she was better off, because he had let her be.

"It's changed, Maria. It's not the same tavern I remember. It's changed for the better. The place is warmer, friendlier, livelier, in a better way. And it has something to do with you and that young man you were with."

"Theo," she said automatically.

"Yes. The baker's son, who is no longer just the baker's son. And the other girls you were talking to. You are close with them."

So he had spotted her, looked for her, from the moment he'd walked into the Siren. He'd seen her talking to Jenny and Netta.

"And seeing you on the stage, playing a duet! You composed that first piece, didn't you? The one that sounded like an Austrian folk song set in the Aegean. I didn't know a pan flute could yodel."

Maria couldn't help a watery smile. So Georg had stayed, after all. Had watched her, had taken in everything about her. "That was inspired by a song I used to love," she confessed.

"The Lonely Goatherd, I know the one." His lips twitched, and it suddenly occurred to her no one outside Austria would have any idea what they were talking about. "You looked confident. Happy. And this dress…" his eyes moved from the wide neckline, the ruffled sleeves, down to the cinched belt and flowing skirt, "this is new."

Maria flushed under his gaze. She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. These past week had been hard – but there had been moments where she had felt happiness, where she'd made herself have fun. Perhaps she too, had never believed she could chase that feeling. Perhaps it was this Captain sitting beside her who'd made her see it.

"Maybe," she found herself saying, "maybe there is more than one way to be happy."

"If I wasn't sure of it, I wouldn't be asking you to give this up for Switzerland," Georg replied lightly. The fact that he didn't quite meet her eyes was the only acknowledgement he gave that he understood what she really meant.

"And you?" She said, not completely sure why she felt the need to challenge him. "Are you happy?"

His eyes lingered this time. "It's a work in progress," he said finally. He kept his voice light, and yet even the practiced, impassive Captain Von Trapp couldn't completely hide the regret lurking deep within his eyes.

It made her say suddenly, "we are friends."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Theo and I. We are friends."

Georg paused for a long moment. "I'm glad," he admitted finally. The softness in his voice told her all she needed to know. He hadn't expected her to wait, but against his better judgment, he had hoped.

It was the same way she had watched for him, saw him everywhere even though she knew he had gone. She had tried to move on – wanted to move on, as he so clearly needed her to.

Georg wanted to help her, wanted to given her the chance to find her voice, the chance to find the life she was meant to live. He'd always believed she could be more than she was.

We can find out.

He would offer her his connections, his yacht, his expertise, his company – everything Georg Von Trapp had to offer.

For someone she until tonight never expected to see again, it was more than generous. And – if she were being honest – it was a really good offer for someone like her.

And yet…

Are you in love with him?

She looked at him, oddly calm, and he returned her gaze. "Come with me, Maria," he said steadily, as though he somehow knew what she'd been thinking. Throughout the evening, he had been unable to hide that he'd wanted her, wanted more, a desire even weeks at sea couldn't entirely erase. And yet, he must have returned to the island believing he could control it. He was determined to control it, in order to give her this chance.

Perhaps, then, it was not so much a question, but a choice.

"To Switzerland," Maria reiterated, just to confirm.

"To Switzerland."

She considered the idea – truly allowed herself to imagine it… and found she couldn't. Maria had never let herself think about leaving the island, although she knew the girls talked about it from time to time. Just the other day, Jenny had fantasized about the very thing that was being offered to her – being whisked away aboard a beautiful yacht by a handsome sailor.

Only for Maria it would be but the first stop.

"And then?"

Georg just smiled, the light touching his eyes speaking eloquently enough. The look of a young adventurer with the world at his fingertips.

Maria bit her lip. He'd gone everywhere, and at the same time, belonged nowhere, to no one. "And if I want to come back?"

He looked momentarily taken aback. "Would you?"

In answer, she gave a small sheepish shrug. The island was her home – had been her home for almost three years. Wasn't it right that she might miss it?

"If that is what you wish," Georg said.

Slowly, she shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Then I will take you wherever you want to go."

Where would she go? What would she do? Maria blinked, surprised to find the answer to the latter was not difficult. She could work as a governess, could work in a restaurant, in a bar. In a cabaret. She could go home. Go anywhere. And if she could really sing again…

The thought made her inhale. She looked at Georg, who gave her a small, almost impish smile.

She hesitated. "There is a chance that nothing can be done."

Georg remained silent, lifting his eyebrows, underscoring the reverse.

Still, Maria held back, her sense of expectation turning into an agitation that brought her to her feet. She wandered away from the bench, closer to the water. "I've never let myself think that far…"

She could hear Georg rise behind her. "If there is a chance, Karl will find it. The hospital has state of the art equipment, and Karl's skill is next to none."

Thinking about that made Maria turn back. "Georg, I cannot afford this. This – this consultation… this procedure, or surgery, whatever may come of it. I will need financing first."

"Let me take care of it." He said it simply, as though the matter was already settled.

Maria stared at him. "I cannot ask you to do that."

"Maria." He took a few deliberate steps toward her. "Money is not a concern. I have more than I know what to do with and nobody to spend it on."

"The children…"

"The children are well provided for and have trusts tied up in investments. Maria, women – and men, for that matter – who've known me much less have asked for more." His voice dropped, low and gravelly. "Let me do this. Let me give something, to someone I care very much about."

It could have been a plea, a prayer. A confession he hadn't intended to make. His voice tore right to her core, and Maria felt it as a vice-like ache in her chest as she gazed at the man in front of her. The trip then, was as much about her as it was about him. As much to find her, as it was to redeem him.

She took a breath. "How long will it take?"

He blinked, inhaling slowly, as though trying to find a way back to practicalities. "Less than a week sailing to get to Italy. We'll go around the Greece Peloponnese and up the Adriatic coast to Ancona. From there it is but a day's ride to Lausanne by train." As he spoke, he wandered over to stand next to her.

Maria nodded slowly. "When would we leave?"

"As early as we can. Tomorrow, if possible."

"Tomorrow?" Maria stared. How could she simply leave the last three years behind in a day?

"The weather is cooling – I don't want it to turn while we're on the water."

A part of her felt a rising sense of hysterics, a mad desire to laugh at the absurdity of it all. And yet another part of her felt his words tug at her heart.

Georg was a seafarer through and through. Perhaps he'd once been an aristocrat, a husband, a family man – when he'd had a home to return to. But now he belonged to the sea. Maria saw it now. Saw why he resisted putting down roots. Saw the way he came and went. Saw the way he could leave on a moment's notice, without warning, in the middle of the night.

"Could we – could we stay one more day?"

Georg paused, looking her over. "We can stay as long as you need," he said at last.

Their eyes locked. There was such a strange softness to them, tender and understanding, that Maria had to turn away. She looked outward toward the sea, a deep indigo that melted into blackness.

If Georg had not been a sailor, that understanding could have spelled a promise, a very different kind of journey. But if he had not been a sailor, they would never have met, and he would not be carrying around the past with him that he did.

Maria swallowed. "I'm prone to being sea sick," she told the night.

"I've been told I'm excellent at the helm," he reassured lightly.

She snuck a sidelong glance at him. He didn't appear offended. "It's not that I don't trust – "

"Maria. Don't think I don't know what it takes to even consider boarding a vessel, after what you've been through, never mind everything else we've discussed." His voice was filled with inexplicable warmth. "But if you can do this… I will be here."

He offered his hand, and without looking, she reached for it in the space between them. It was a handshake, a salute, and a Georg Von Trapp kind of promise.

Maria smiled, and she saw him smile in response out of the corner of her eye.

Hadn't she, before any of this started, always longed for adventure?

Out of all the adventures she imagined Captain Von Trapp might offer, the chance to start over hadn't been one of them. But still, there was no reason why she shouldn't jump up and go.

A/N: M and G always seem to reach this point where it seems the only thing keeping them apart is their respective self-denial. In the movie when Maria flees to the Abbey, she is a postulate and he is engaged... but I'd like to think she would have even if that weren't the case, because it's really more a tangle of circumstances and how M and G see themselves/their pasts/their future, and I'm really trying to explore that angle. Would love to know what you think!

I'm really excited to start this next stage of their journey. Thank you for reading and for your thoughtful comments! xx