Stifling a yawn, she ignored how tired she was. Tonight, sleep was doing its best to sneak up on her, like one of those misty fogs rolling down from the Alps. Her eyes were heavy, but she refused to give in, forcing them to stay open. She'd made a silent promise, which she intended to keep. Even if that meant she had to stay awake all night.

At the sound of him stirring, her eyes shot open. He stopped moving, pausing for a moment. Staring at him, wide-eyed, she held her breath, as if their world was suspended in time. He lifted his head and murmured something. Something that made no sense. Not at this hour of the night, not when she was half asleep herself. She tried to soothe him with a gentle touch, but he just mumbled more words she couldn't understand. "Sshhh…" she whispered against his ear. "It's alright, darling, I'm here…"

Holding her breath, she waited for him to settle. Moments seemed to drag into minutes before he buried his cheek back down against her. A few more minutes passed, and she could hear his deep, heavy breathing once again. Finally, able to relax, she let out her breath on a sigh of relief, praying his sleep wouldn't be broken by more haunting memories. With every movement, every murmur, her senses were on edge. She allowed herself a satisfied smile as he wrapped his arm tighter around her, nestling against her soft chest.

Glancing across the room, searching for a crack between the curtains, it seemed it was still pitch dark outside. She had no idea what the time was. In the darkness, in the strange room with its unfamiliar sounds, she'd lost all sense of time. Hours might have slipped by, it was impossible to know. There was a clock somewhere on the side table, but, unless she moved, she had no way of seeing it from where she was. He'd made her promise to keep the lamp on, so she was sure if she turned her head carefully, she'd find the clock. But now that he'd settled again, she didn't dare disturb him. Anyway, the minutes or hours didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping that nightmare at bay.

Looking down at him, she smiled, relieved at how quickly his slow, deep breathing had returned this time. While she forced herself to stay awake, she'd been discovering the strange sounds he made while sleeping. If she waited a little longer, his breathing would turn into gentle snoring. She smiled again. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Captain von Trapp would snore in his sleep. He always seemed so distinguished, so in control. But then, it was just another of the many things she was still learning about him.

With his head resting heavily on her chest, somewhere near her shoulder, her arm was starting to feel a little numb. She had to move. Perhaps if she did it slowly, a little at a time, he might not notice. Watching him closely in the soft light, she held her breath and moved. Just an inch. He mumbled something, it could have been anything, then quickly settled back, burrowing his head against her.

Giving up on the idea, she reached up with her free hand and brushed his fringe back from his forehead. She wondered what he'd seen earlier. What horrors from the past still haunted him? For someone so brave, who'd seen all those battles, his head must be filled with so many horrible images. Or perhaps it was his wife's death that still clawed at him. Or was there something else, something in his past she was yet to discover. He was so strong and brave, always such a commanding, dominating force. Whatever it was, it was bad. The fear and panic in his eyes had told her that.

There was one thing she knew for certain. She would never forget his cries for help. The panic and fear, the blood curdling screams that had woken her, sent her running to the sitting room, searching for him.

She bent her head, kissing his hair and resting her cheek against him. She knew only too well how bad memories and a difficult past could creep up on you in the middle of the night. Feeling less sleepy now, she wrapped her arm tightly around him. Determined to stay awake, she was going to make sure she kept her promise.

She couldn't help wondering if there'd ever be a time when she'd discover everything there was to know about the man lying in her arms. Burying her cheek in his hair, breathing in his musky scent, she doubted it. He was as dark and mysterious as he was tender and loving. And all those different, conflicting facets somehow fitted together to make him the complicated man she loved with all her heart.

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes
I fall into your arms
I'll be safe in your sound til I come back around

It was soft. So soft, and so very warm. His fingers wrapped around something, tightening their hold. He clutched at it again. Cotton. He went to lift his head. But it was heavy, far too heavy. He didn't have the energy to fight. Or the will. Much nicer to burrow against the soft warmth. Something brushed against his forehead, making him smile as it tickled his skin. He wondered where he was, he should find out, but soft words soothed him, encouraged him to stay wrapped in a tenderness and warmth he hadn't felt for a long time. He must be dreaming.

Soft words, warm breath against him. He answered. Said something, but not really certain what. It didn't matter. He hadn't really understood what she'd said either. Still dreaming. He smiled, pulling at the blanket. Another dream of her. Of blue eyes and luscious lips. Of short blonde hair and the softest skin. Burrowing against the warmth, the softness, an arm tightened around him.

An arm…?

He froze. Where was he? Who was he with? His eyes shot open. It was bright. A light. He was blinking against it, trying to see. What was he wearing? Trousers? Struggling to lift his heavy head, blinking hard, he tried to make sense of everything, of something. Where was he?

"What…" he could barely get the word out.

"It's alright," she whispered softly.

"Maria…?"

"I'm here, Georg," she answered in a soothing voice.

"Here…?" He lifted his head a little higher and looked around, but was still blinking against the light. "Where are we?"

"The hotel," she answered, her words low and gentle.

"The hotel…?" he looked up at her like she was completely mad.

"Yes, darling, we were at the ball," she brushed his fringe back from his forehead. "Remember?"

"Oh…" he answered softly, still confused, still trying to shake off the fog as his eyes adjusted to the light. She smiled and nodded, and he knew at that moment nothing else mattered. She was here, and that's all he needed. She reached up again and brushed the rebellious lock of hair back off his forehead. He closed his eyes at her touch, enjoying the feel of her fingers in his hair, against his scalp. He smiled. He could stay here all night…

All night?

As realisation hit, his eyes shot open, dropping from the wide blue eyes that stared back at him.

"Maria?" He sat up straight, his unbuttoned shirt falling open to reveal his bare chest. What in God's name? He lifted his eyes to find hers.

"Yes, Georg?" she frowned at him.

"Why are you wearing one of my shirts?"

"Oh…" she could feel her cheeks growing hot.

"I changed into it after my bath," she mumbled, shifting her eyes from his questioning look. "The lace was too itchy…"

He smiled, his eyes moving down her long neck, finding and following her cleavage, until he was pulled up by starched cotton and a button.

"I hope you don't mind…"

"Mind?" He forced his eyes back to hers and gave her a silly, lopsided smile. "No, no, of course not." God, she looked so adorable. "Why are we here…?" he glanced around the room.

"You fell asleep on the sofa," she watched the lines on his brow deepen. "You had a bad dream…" she brushed his cheek.

"A dream?" he whispered, his voice drifting off as his mind searched through the fog for any remaining fragments, some memory of his nightmare to cling to. Usually, the dreams would haunt him, keep him awake for the rest of the night. But, tonight, his mind just drew a blank. "I can't remember…"

"You woke me, so I sat with you."

"On the sofa?"

"That's right, darling," she smiled.

"But if we were on the sofa, what are we doing here?" His frown deepened. "In bed…" his voice dropped even lower.

"Oh… I hope you don't mind," Maria blushed again. "It was getting cold, and I couldn't leave you on your own," she gave him a little shrug. "It just made sense."

"I can't remember…" he whispered, still trawling his mind. His last memory was her singing. "I can't remember a thing…"

"That's alright," she reached up and cupped his cheek, recalling how he'd let her lead him to the bedroom, like one of the children. "It's probably for the best."

Wondering what the time was, he glanced across at the bedside table, flooded in soft light from the lamp. He was surprised to see how late it was. "Why is the light still on?" he wondered out loud.

"You made me promise to keep it on," she answered softly.

He leaned into her and caught her lips in a tender kiss. "Thank you," he whispered. "I hope I didn't scare you," his fingers brushed her cheek. He gave her a tight smile as she shook her head a little unconvincingly. Agathe had told him how bad it could be.

"It will be getting light soon," he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. "I should leave," he tightened his hold and kissed her hair.

"I wish you didn't have to," she whispered against his muscle and warmth.

"You know I'd love to spend all night here," he smiled at her as she looked up at him through her long lashes. "But we both know I can't."

She nodded, trying to stifle a yawn. "You're tired," he whispered, "was I that difficult to sleep with?"

"I didn't want to fall asleep," she watched his eyes narrow as a frown grew on his brow. "In case your nightmare returned."

"Oh, Maria!" He pulled her to him, enjoying the feel of her laying against his bare chest. "Where would I be without you?"

But of course, he already knew the answer to that. He'd be lost. Just exactly as she'd found him. Still floundering, still drowning in a world where everything he loved had already disappeared or was slipping through his fingers. "Close your eyes," he whispered against her hair. "I'll wait until you fall asleep."

It was almost four in the morning. He could only risk another half hour cocooned here with Maria. That would give him time to change and get to Max's room before the staff started moving around. He should be there already, but he hadn't planned on falling into such a heavy sleep. God, he wondered what the nightmare had been about. The last thing he remembered was sitting on the sofa, thinking about Maria and the children.

His heart surged at the thought of her watching over him. Those nights, when bad memories found him, Agathe used to do the same thing, making it possible for him to get through the dark night. He tightened his hold, glancing down at her. Strawberry blonde hair on his bare chest, moving gently up and down in time to his breathing, a hand gently resting over his heart. Staring across the room, he held his breath, listening to her soft breathing.

He still hadn't told her about the meeting, still hadn't asked her anything about the ball.

"Maria…" he whispered softly.

There was no answer. He glanced down at her and smiled. She was fast asleep.

God, he loved her.

Now, I need somebody to know
Somebody to heal
Somebody to have

The sun on his face was warm. If it wasn't for the occasional sound of crisp autumn leaves crunching under the feet of passers-by on the footpath, you could be mistaken for thinking it was still summer. The weather had turned a few weeks earlier, but like most changes of season, this year's summer wasn't ready to bid farewell just yet.

There was a time he'd hoped the summer could go on forever. Now, he found himself wishing autumn would hurry up and end, even though it had barely begun. Why in God's name had he agreed to a January wedding? It seemed years away.

Prodding with his fork, he continued pushing his food around the plate. As pleasant as the morning was, as nice as it was to sit outside the café for some air, he wasn't hungry. Breakfast was the last thing on his mind. Truth was, his mind was somewhere else. Like one of the leaves scuttling past, his mind was restless. It kept drifting down the street. Try as he might, he couldn't help wondering what was happening in the Royal Suite at the Hotel Imperial.

Apart from the occasional pedestrians and a young man sitting alone at a table further along the footpath, they were alone. He looked up at Max sitting across the table from him. The normally bustling café was so quiet this morning, he'd easily caught the attention of the young waitress and was busying himself ordering a second coffee. Giving up on his food, Georg placed his fork on the edge of the plate. Judging by the look of Max, he'd be needing many more coffees to get through the day.

"Yes, please," he smiled as the pretty young waitress looked in his direction. "Same as the last one, thank you." Perhaps another strong, black coffee was what he needed. He watched the waitress disappear into the café before taking a final, lukewarm sip to empty his first cup.

"I'm not sure sitting outside was such a good idea," Max squinted against the mid-morning sun.

"It was your idea, Max," Georg reminded his friend.

Thankfully, Max had been unusually quiet this morning. Hardly surprising given he'd stumbled into the room just as the sun was rising. Not that he'd been asleep. Maria had been right. He smiled. She always was. The settee had been far too short, and far too hard. But that hadn't been the only reason sleep had evaded him. He missed her. Missed her soft warmth. Missed her cheek resting on his bare chest, her hand resting over his heart. He tried to stifle a shiver at the memory of her fingers moving across his skin. Certain she'd been dreaming about something, he'd been happy to pretend it was him. God, he couldn't wait for the morning when he could wake up with her in his arms. His body tightened at the thought. How far away was the damn wedding? He knew there were certain proprieties to maintain, but why the hell had he ever agreed to such a long engagement.

"Poor Elsa is doing it hard, Georg," with another coffee on the way, Max decided to broach the subject again.

"You've already told me," Georg's response was just as blunt the second time around. He stared at his friend, wondering if he realised, he'd said exactly the same thing barely ten minutes earlier. Despite the lingering guilt, things would have been much worse if he hadn't called off their engagement. But that didn't change the fact, he'd been a fool to propose to Elsa in the first place. God, how had he ever let it get that far? Sensing that Max wasn't going to let him off so lightly this time, he picked up his fork again, preferring to concentrate on his breakfast.

Thankfully, before Max could continue, the waitress returned with a tray and their steaming cups of coffee. They nodded their thanks as the cups and saucers were placed on the table, and the old ones cleared away. She also placed a second pastry in front of Max, much to Georg's surprise. He may not have heard his friend placing the order, but he knew he'd be paying for it.

"She really is heartbroken, you know," Max took a sip of coffee and looked across the rim of his cup.

"Max, I don't know what you want me to do," Georg took a mouthful of bacon and sourdough. At least he had an excuse not to answer if he was eating.

"I realise it's a difficult situation," Max conceded, "well, alright, its extremely awkward," he added as Georg frowned at him. "But she's a good friend, so we really need to…"

Taking another mouthful, he tried to follow what Max was saying, but his mind had already wound its way back to the bedroom of the Royal Suite. Back under the soft covers of the enormous bed. He wondered if she was still there. Surely, she would have risen by now. He could still see her sleeping soundly on his chest. He could have kept watching her until the morning sun had risen well above the horizon. Instead, he'd reluctantly slipped out, just managing to avoid the staff, who'd already started moving around, preparing the hotel for the day ahead.

He took a sip from his fresh cup of coffee. Max was still explaining the extent of Elsa's heartbreak, still berating him, in Max's usual, kind way. Of course, he was right. He should have been honest about everything much earlier in the piece. Unfortunately, for him to be honest with Elsa, he first had to be honest with himself. As he'd found over the years, that was the hardest thing of all. Finally facing up to his feelings for Maria had made everything else seem simple and fall into place. His world, his children, even their uncertain future, it all just seemed easier to face with her by his side. Once again, he wondered whatever would have happened if she hadn't arrived in their lives.

Chasing a piece of bacon around the plate, he hoped something would have brought him to his senses before it was too late. But he doubted it. At the thought of her wide eyes and luscious lips, his mind drifted back to her, wondering what she was doing now. He wondered if she'd found his note. She must have. After changing out of his trousers and creased shirt, he'd written her a note on the notepaper he'd found in the top drawer of the bureau in the sitting room.

Sneaking back to take one last look at her, he'd left the note on the pillow beside her. He'd told her to sleep in and take her time, explaining that he'd arrange for a late breakfast to be sent to her suite. Heaven knows, she deserved a lazy morning in bed. He smiled to himself, wishing he was still there with her, that he'd been there when she woke. Reminding himself how far away the honeymoon was, his silent curses quickly gave way to far more delightful thoughts, as he started counting all the wonderful, wicked ways he could wake her.

He shifted in his chair, trying to shake away the stray thoughts. He wondered if she liked the other surprise he'd arranged. He checked his watch. It should have arrived by now.

"I'm sorry if I'm boring you, Georg," Max picked up the linen napkin from his lap and wiped the pastry crumbs from his mouth.

"No, no, Max," Georg picked up his cup of coffee, "please, do continue..."

"I know you don't want to hear this, Georg," Max wiped the stickiness from his fingers and placed the roughly folded napkin on the small round table. "But, for a time, you really did lead poor Elsa on. I think that's what hurt her the most. One day you're asking her to marry you, and then, quite literally, calling it off the next."

"For heaven's sake, what did you want me to do?" Georg asked, dropping his guilty eyes to chase a golden leaf along the footpath. "Surely, it was better for everyone, especially Elsa, that I called things off before any announcements were made."

"But that's just it," Max wondered how such a brilliant mind, a strategic genius, could be so clueless sometimes. "You'd been with Elsa for so long, everyone just assumed you were already engaged. It's been horribly difficult for her, trying to get back on the horse, head held high, so to speak. I'd never expected her to take things this badly, but then, I'd never expected the gossip to be so cruel…"

Georg turned back to look at Max, wondering for a moment which planet he was from. Of course, there was always going to be nasty gossip. After all, he'd ended a relationship with one of society's leading ladies to marry his children's governess. The gossip was bound to spread like wildfire. And gossip was what Elsa's so-called friends did best. It didn't help that Maria simply wasn't just one of his staff. She was a postulant on loan from the Abbey. That was only ever going to add fuel to the rumours and innuendo. Then, there was the age difference, and what they'd call her lack of social standing.

And the gossips were always going to make up stories about what was happening under Elsa's nose and when. None of them cared about the truth, especially when nothing untoward happened while Elsa was still at the villa. He'd behaved like a gentleman. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he wished he could say the same about last night. Trying to forget his far from gentlemanly behaviour, he turned his attention back to Max.

"…I really should pay her another visit," Max smoothed down his moustache.

Having given up on his plate of food, Georg took another sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. "Don't forget, we're returning to Salzburg this afternoon."

"Surely, there's time for a quick visit to Elsa's," Max picked up his cup and took a sip of the strong, bitter drink. Judging by how heavy his head was still feeling, he debated whether he should order a third.

"If you like, you can pay her a visit while we go to Hede's to collect Maria's things," Georg stared into the distance, looking through the people strolling along the footpath. "That's if my sister made it home…" he mumbled under his breath, still not forgiving her for leaving Maria's side last night.

"You know, I think I will," Max forced his tired muscles into a smile, "I think it's important."

"Just don't stay too long, I'm keen to get Maria home," Georg's eyes followed a couple looking on as their two young children chased autumn leaves along the footpath. "She's missing the children," he added. Truth was, he was missing them almost as much. For the first time in a long time, thoughts of the children back home at the villa weren't filled with guilt or dread. "I don't want to be driving home in the dark or spending another night in Vienna," he smiled at the distant sound of the young girl squealing in delight as her father kicked leaves along the path in front of her. She couldn't be much older than Gretl.

"How did you go last night?"

"What?" Georg's head spun around towards Max.

"Last night…" Max took another sip of coffee. "How did it go?"

"Max! I hardly think that's any of your…"

"Settle down, Georg," Max cut off his friend's indignant response. "I'm talking about your meeting," Max narrowed his eyes, studying his friend's reaction over the top of his cup. "I'm not sure what you thought I was talking about."

"Nothing!" The word came out a little too quick, a little too loud. Shifting in his seat, a flash of black lace and silk, soft skin and even softer lips filled his mind. "I wasn't sure what you were talking about."

"So, your meeting," Max smiled to himself, "did anything come of it?"

Georg tightened his jaw and shook his head. "It didn't go well."

"What does that mean?"

Georg's head didn't move, but his eyes scanned the footpath around them before he spoke. "It all comes down to the Chancellor," he dropped his voice.

Although he didn't pay too much attention to politicians and their games, Max had already felt the impact from across the border. Many artists had moved to the continent's more tolerant west. Of those who remained, most had been forced to censor their performances or had become more discerning when it came to who they shared a stage with. None of it had been good for business, and he was sure there was worse to come.

"If Schuschnigg can hold his nerve, Austria continues as we know it," Georg continued.

"And if he doesn't?"

"Our world changes completely."

"But didn't you say…"

"I know what I said, Max," Georg snapped back, recalling his optimism over the past weeks. "The military's current leaders don't want to split from the government," he sighed, before taking another sip of coffee. "They don't seem to care who's running the country." His fingers drummed impatiently on the table. "Damn the army," he cursed under his breath, "it would be a different story if Austria still had her navy."

"Mmmm… maybe."

"Maybe?!" Georg shot back across the table, but quickly nodded and smiled apologetically at the young man who looked up from the nearby table. "I'd like to think we were built of sterner stuff in the…"

"Georg," Max cut him off in a low, soothing voice. "I know you don't want to hear this, but people are tired. They remember the War, they don't want to go back to…"

"But, Max, they must," Georg hissed back across the table. "Austria's future depends on us."

"I agree," Max continued in his soothing voice, "but they're scared for their families. They learned the hard way last time. That's why so many are happy to just try to get along with our neighbours."

"We're hardly talking about an annoying neighbour," Georg scoffed. "We're talking about a madman," he dropped his voice.

"True…" Max couldn't deny that Germany's Fruher did seem more than a little unhinged. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Georg."

"Careful?"

"In a few months, you'll have a new wife," Max flicked stray pastry crumbs from his jacket. "She's far too young to be a widow raising your seven children."

"Don't think I don't realise that," Georg answered, his thoughts far away, recalling the many times Agathe waved bravely from the front steps as he left to return to the battle raging on the seas. The braver she tried to be, the more he hated himself for leaving. "I think about it every day."

"Every one of us who served in the War, thinks about it," Max pushed his empty cup away from him. The morning was far too beautiful and the day much too young to be so melancholy. Besides his head hurt.

"Come on, Max," Georg picked up his serviette and wiped his mouth. "The sooner we pack our things and get our visiting over and done with, the sooner we can leave." Truth was, he needed to see Maria. Memories of last night's meeting were unsettling him.

I need somebody to heal
Somebody to know
Somebody to have
Somebody to hold

Smoothing down the skirt of her dress, she made her way towards the door. Slowing her steps, she smiled. It had been a surprisingly busy morning. First, it had been a tray overflowing with breakfast, then she'd been surprised with the delivery of her new dress. As her hand wrapped around the door handle, she wondered who it was this time.

Pulling the door open, she smiled at the sight of Georg and Max standing in the hallway. "Good morning," she stepped aside to let them inside.

"Morning, darling," Georg took a few steps into the room before coming to a stop. His hand found hers as he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He continued walking into the sitting room, reluctantly letting her fingers slip through his.

"Good morning, Maria," closing the door behind him, Max returned Maria's radiant smile.

"Thank you, for my gift, Georg," Maria couldn't hide the delight in her voice. "It's perfect!"

Georg slowly took her in. The dress he'd had delivered from the boutique down the street fitted her like a glove. "Turn around, darling," he ordered her, his voice low and heavy as memories flooded back of a similar request on her first day at the villa.

Maria shot him a knowing look before spinning around, holding out the skirt of the sage green dress as she turned.

"You're right, it is perfect," he smiled at her as she came to a stop. As soon as he saw it, the sage green reminded him of the dress she wore to the party, the night they danced the Laendler.

"Georg, I was wondering if we'd have time to buy present for the children before we leave?" Maria reached out and took hold of his arm.

"Of course," he squeezed the hand that still rested on his arm, "we can do that while we walk over to Hede's."

"We'll be walking?"

"Yes, Max will be taking the car to pay Elsa a visit," Georg glanced across to his friend.

"Oh, Max, how is she?" Maria's worried look matched the concern in her voice.

"She'll be alright," Max reassured her, "thankfully, broken hearts have a habit of mending themselves."

"Please send her out thoughts and best wishes," Maria begged him.

Georg patted Maria's hand, wondering if he'd ever meet anyone with a bigger heart. "Max, I'll call reception and have them send someone up to collect our bags."

"When do you want to leave Hede's?" Max asked, remembering how keen Georg was to get home.

"Be there by one o'clock. That should give you enough time with Elsa," he smiled, grateful that Max was making the effort. It did help alleviate some of his guilt. "Let me get the car keys," he was already moving across the room towards the bureau.

"Oh, Georg!" Maria reached into the pocket of her new dress. "I almost forgot…"

"What do you have there?" he turned around to see Maria walking across the room holding something in her hand.

"Someone must have slid it under the door," she handed him an envelope with his name handwritten on the front.

Frowning, he studied the handwriting before turning the envelope over and tearing it open. He unfolded the paper, cursing at the Third Reich's insignia embossed at the top of the page.

"What is it?" Maria placed a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"

"Berlin."

"Berlin?" Maria echoed.

"An invitation," Georg snorted.

"An invitation…" Maria asked, her hand tightening around his arm. "To what?"

"Bremerhaven," he spat out the word in disgust.

"I don't understand," Maria frowned at him, dread starting to fill every pore of her body.

Somewhere behind them, Max dropped onto the sofa. "It's just the start..." he mumbled to himself.

"The Fuhrer himself has requested I visit their naval port at Bremerhaven," Georg turned his attention back to the handwriting on the envelope. Why did it look so familiar? "He's offered me a commission."

"Georg, no!" Maria's heart was in her mouth. "You can't accept. How could you leave the children? After everything? You can't leave…"

"Leave you, darling?" Georg turned to her, the panic in her voice matched by the fear in her blue eyes. "Oh-ho, he wants me to move the entire family to his God-forsaken port on the North Sea."

Thank you everyone for continuing to read and review.

Sadly, I still don't own TSOM, just having a little lend.

"Immerse your soul in love"