A/N: thank you for your kind reviews so far. There's quite a lot of set up in this story so I hope you don't mind sticking with me until it starts to get interesting!
Also, thanks to ThoroughlyModernJulie for being cool with me exploring the theme of marital tension (which she covers 10 times better than me in 'If I Lose Myself' - so give it a read if you haven't already!)
CHAPTER TWO: THE FIGHT
On the day that changed everything, Georg awoke beside his wife - a rarity of late - and the comfort of her presence filled him with peace. Reluctant to leave the warmth of their shared nest, he burrowed deeper under the covers like a petulant child, pulling Maria down with him. Groaning in protest at the disturbance, she stiffened absentmindedly in his arms, her brow knitting even while her eyes remained closed. The reaction evoked a pang of disappointment low in his stomach - it wasn't too long ago that she would relish their mornings together, melting into his arms like a purring kitten before having to greet the day. Now however, their intimacy seemed to have given way to a tension that neither chose to acknowledge, but both knew was there.
The recent weeks had bled seamlessly into one another - a blur of damning political news, covert calls from England, and blueprint after blueprint - to the point that he was beginning to lose track of which day it was. If it wasn't for his compulsive need to read the newspaper every morning, he might not have even known the date. By now, the future of the country seemed bleak at best and holding on to hope seemed as futile as trying to keep a wave upon the sand. In light of all this, and with the promise of another day spent in his study, he relished the thought of just a few more minutes in bed. Trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut, he simply pulled his wife closer.
"Can't the children get themselves dressed this morning?" He grumbled into the shell of her ear, nestling against her softness under the cocoon of their bedding, refusing to open his eyes to the sun that streaked across the room from the chink in the drapes.
"Unfortunately not," she mumbled into the pillow, hair askew and cheeks rosy - just how he liked her, "But I need to dress myself first."
"I'd much rather you didn't," he teased, "in my humble opinion, you look a damn sight better out of your clothes."
"I hardly remember you out of yours," she remarked coolly, before wriggling free of his grasp, throwing the covers aside and hauling herself out of bed.
He was more than a little taken aback by the barb. Maria had always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve and it was no secret that she disapproved of the time he was spending locked away poring over dangerous work. Despite the recent shift in their relationship however, he had thought sheof all people would understand. Fiercely protective of her faith, even after leaving the abbey for good, she knew a lot about duty and the sacrifices made in its honour. Surely she could empathise with his own sense of obligation towards his country?
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he followed her with his scowl as she moved around the bed and made quick work of pulling the drapes back.
"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" He clipped, eyes narrowing, raising a hand to block the harsh glare of the sun.
It was impossible to miss the sudden tension in her shoulders, nor the sigh that she tried to contain - even while her back was to him. Resting her palms on the windowsill and staring out onto the lake, she was silent for long minutes, almost as though she hadn't heard him at all.
This only served to irk him further.
"Maria?"
She whirled around to face him then, eyes alight with challenge - though her tone remained calm.
"It means..." she threw her hands in the air, as though she was hoping the right words would fall from the ceiling, "it means we barely see you anymore, Georg."
He stared at her.
"We?"
"Our children," she remarked icily, "Remember them?"
"You mean my children," was his scathing reply, and the cruel meaning wasn't lost on Maria.
"How can you say that?" She whispered in disbelief, "I've devoted my life to those little dears! I gave them as much hope and comfort as I could in the face of a cold and distant father. You're brushing them aside again, you know. The same way you used to when-"
"Don't." He warned carefully, his tone cutting, "do not hold that against me, not now. We've been over this countless times-"
"It was Kurt's birthday last week," she interrupted acidly, "you spent five minutes with him."
"He still had a wonderful day and he loved his gift! What more could he want? You know how important my work is to the-"
"Yes, I do know," she retorted evenly, "Because it's all we ever hear about."
"Well forgive me for wanting to do my bit for my country!" He fumed, thoroughly affronted, ripping the covers back and storming across the room to retrieve his robe from the back of the door.
"We're not at war yet Georg. And you act as though the whole world is coming to an end."
"Isn't it?!" He snarled, shoving his arms angrily into each sleeve and tying the sash as though he was wringing a turkey's neck.
He received nothing but an infuriated roll of the eyes by way of response - and it left him spluttering with anger and incredulity. Didn't she understand?!
"Surely you grasp the seriousness of the current situation in Europe Maria. Surely!"
"Of course I do," she snapped, "how can you even say that to me! But if the Anschluss does occur and God forbid, war does break out, what then?"
"What do you mean what then?"
"Country, or family Georg? Which will you protect?"
He said nothing, his throat working furiously and his jaw clenched tight as her eyes bore into him, waiting for a reply.
"It's my country too," she insisted passionately, clutching at her heart, "And the children's. We'll be just as devastated. But what about doing your bit for them? For us?"
"It's not like I'm going anywhere!" He defended, as though that made everything better.
"No, you're right," she replied quietly, eyes glued firmly to his, "You'll stay locked up in that Godforsaken study, of that I'm certain. The children need their father - but you may as well be a million miles below sea level on one of your u-boats, for all that they see you."
"Well which is it?!" He boomed incredulously, "do you want me here at home or out there marching alongside those thugs?"
Throwing her hands up, she growled in frustration, "You're twisting my words!"
"Look," he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to restore some level of calm, "John needs me to-"
"John," she scoffed, as though the name was poison, "you are nothing to that man but leverage with the British, do you realise that? He'll happily put your life in danger if it serves his own ends."
Anger bubbled like hot tar in his chest.
"If those ends are likely to stop Hitler then so be it!"
"At the expense of your safety and everything else that matters, apparently," she accused with venom.
Positively seething, he opened his mouth to form a rebuttal - but she held her hand up in protest so the words died in his throat, "This is getting us nowhere," she clipped, busying herself with shoving her feet into her slippers, "Perhaps we should just finish this conversation when we've both calmed down and the children aren't right across the hall."
As if that settled the matter, she reached for the radio at his bedside table to put on some music, as was her habit when they had some time to spare before the day began. But Georg wasn't going to take her accusations lying down.
"Maria, don't you dare turn on that radio, I'm trying to talk to you about this!" he protested, outraged - but she chose to ignore him, moving to turn the volume up on the device instead. Her defiance infuriated him more than he could've anticipated and he moved before his brain could register what he was doing. Quick as a dart he lunged toward her and caught her wrist mid-air, fingers curling around the bone like a vine. His grip wasn't rough by any means, but Maria wrenched her arm away as though she'd been burned.
"Don't touch me!" she hissed, her eyes wild with fury and something else he didn't dare to acknowledge. It occurred to him briefly that he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so angry - but he was too far past the point of no return with his own temper. Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he began prowling the length of the carpet like a caged lion.
"I'm at a loss Maria!" He bellowed, "I don't know what you want from me!"
"Would it even matter?" She spat.
He rounded on her then like a leopard on a gazelle.
"Need I point out that you fell in love with a naval captain," he reminded her coldly, "one with unshakeable principles!"
"Yes I did," she admitted, her voice raised now as much as his was, "But first and foremost I fell in love with the man, the musician, the father, the family! You seem to have lost sight of all that!"
"If you're asking me to be less than I am, you're no better than Elsa Shraeder," he spat, wanting his words to sting some sense into her.
It was a low blow, even after their myriad of harshly exchanged words. A few weeks before their wedding day, they'd had a very frank and honest discussion about his relationship with Elsa Shraeder - and Maria had confessed that she felt entirely inferior to the Viennese socialite. Georg however, had immediately quashed all of her self-doubt, insisting that Elsa had pursued him as a prize to be won, rather than for the man he truly was. He knew without having to ask, that those words had meant a great deal to Maria at the time - and Elsa Shraeder's name had rarely been mentioned since.
Now, Georg rather wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth, insidious as they'd tasted on his tongue. They'd clearly had the desired effect though, for the expression on Maria's face shifted from anger to astonishment and then to undeniable hurt. Stubborn as he was however, he stood his ground firmly, fists clenched at his sides and blood pounding in his ears.
"If that's truly what you think of me," Maria whispered, tears lacing her eyes but refusing to fall, "then I regret what I said."
"Good," he replied curtly, even while his stomach roiled at the insult he'd just paid her, "I'm glad you finally see my point of view."
"No," she bleated, the shake of her head almost imperceptible, "I regret what I said when I took my vows."
Her words syphoned the remaining air from his lungs like a bullet through the ribs, paralysing him instantly. Anger and pride swiftly gave way to shock and then hopelessness, as he felt all the fight leave his body.
"Darling, I..." he rasped feebly - and she regarded him with stoic patience, waiting for reassuring words they both knew would never come. The crushing silence spread to every corner of the room, as man and wife stared at each other through the invisible barricade that had somehow formed between them. For once, Georg saw no way of scaling it, no way of breaking through it - and it appeared his wife didn't want him to, even if he could.
When long minutes passed in which he failed to respond, her eyes finally clouded over with melancholy acceptance.
"I'll stay in the old governess's room tonight," she murmured to the floor, before turning on her heel, adorning her robe and leaving him in the centre of their suite to stare unseeingly at the spot she'd just vacated. He didn't call after her, and neither did she look back.
A/N: the line "I hardly remember you out of yours" was taken from another Christopher Plummer film if anyone can name it? I always liked that film and that scene in particular, since he looked particularly divine in it!