A/N: At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you for your reviews once again! I'm at a point in the story where I'm not quite sure where I'm going to take it, so the updates may be a little slower going forward, sorry in advance! Also, this story is now M, so be sure to change your settings in order to find it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE TALK
Before the darkness of the night had faded into dawn, they made love again - this time between the tangled sheets of their marriage bed. Maria had cried in his arms after they'd come apart together on the drawing room floor - and Georg had understood why. Their frantic reunion had been entirely overwhelming, deeply intense and altogether harrowing - more so than even he could have anticipated.
It was true that he'd had more than his fair share of sexual encounters in his lifetime. A string of lovers in his youth followed by a very loving and fulfilling first marriage, succeeded yet again by a second wife who'd proved herself to be more than his equal in spades. But never had he made love with such raw emotion, such sublime intensity, such open despair - driven solely by six long weeks of yearning. Gripped by a fierce and sudden need to protect her, he'd wasted no time in gathering her into his arms like a cut of priceless porcelain, carrying her out of the drawing room and up to their suite.
There, he laid her on the bed and lavished her body with kisses, taking his time to imprint himself on every inch of skin he could reach - reminding himself of every freckle, every scar, every curve, as though they weren't already committed to memory. When eventually she whimpered for more of him, he turned her on her side and cocooned her in his arms, his warm torso spooned against the length of her back, his gentle heartbeat drumming against her skin - and within minutes he was easing inside her.
In no obvious rush this time around, he pressed unhurried kisses to the crook of her neck, skimming the deepest parts of her pleasure through languid, lingering nudges that left them both desperate for release. Despite his every synapse burning with need, he stayed with her, moving against and within her excruciating slowly in a display of arduous revenge.
"Don't torture me, Georg," she implored, shifting back against him for more of the much needed friction, "Please, I can't bear it!"
But he only slowed his pace even more, burying himself to the hilt and holding steady, "you're not to move again," he commanded low against the shell of her ear, "or I'll pull out of you."
It was an empty threat of course - he could no more will himself to leave her body than he could will himself to stop breathing. In truth, his biggest concern was that if she continued to snap her hips against him, her petite bottom pressed firmly into his lap, then he would come apart within thirty seconds. And he'd be damned if he was going to let her get the best of him a second time.
"Keep still so I can do this," he drew his hips back and she felt him pull nearly all the way out of her, leaving her bereft, before dipping inside her again, inch by excruciating inch - until he'd filled her with solid fire. Countless more times he did this, shuddering and gasping through the exquisite sensation.
"You feel phenomenal," he choked, "like hot butter melting around me."
The torturous repetition of withdrawal and reunion continued, the pace never altering, until he could feel her gripping around him so tightly that he was forced to cry out from it. Still he forged stubbornly on, refusing to increase the speed, suspending them both on the brink of white hot friction for as long as their sanity could cope with it. Looking for something - anything - to cling on to, Maria's small hand found his and led it around her front, until he was fondling a hardened nipple under the guidance of her palm. The added stimulation nudged her into a shattering climax, which rapidly brought on his - and he muffled his cries into the back of her neck as the ecstasy bloomed through his body.
Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, he stroking his fingers along her jaw, and she nestled into the crook of his shoulder, the atmosphere thick with words left unsaid. Though sunrise was still a few hours away, Maria nevertheless found herself dreading the night's end, for soon enough, she would have to explain herself to the man laying beside her. She gathered her courage, ready to face the music - but one look at his face told her that he wanted to ask her something, a question he was clearly afraid of hearing the answer to.
"What is it?" she whispered, tracing the worry lines on his brow with her fingertips. When the creases only deepened, she gave a self-deprecating sigh, as if she knew the question was far too simple for the complexity of their situation, "Where do we even begin..."
"Do you feel anything for him?" Georg blurted, the pain in his eyes quite evident.
"Besides revulsion? Absolutely not."
Her reply was enough to make his shoulders sag with relief. Deep down he'd known the answer, had known that she'd merely been playing a role - but weeks of misery and self-doubt had left him feeling vulnerable and exposed. Which inevitably led him to further questions.
"Did he ever hurt you?"
Relief flooded him again when she merely shook her head.
"Did he ever.." his jaw tightened and he swallowed hard, "..touch you?"
Sighing, Maria took his hand in hers, distracting herself by following the lines on his palm with her fingertips, "He tried," she revealed honestly, her voice meek, "occasionally he would.. he would kiss me. It sickened me, Georg - the only way I could bear his affection was to imagine he was you."
Grimly, Georg nodded in acceptance, his mind casting back to the moment on the terrace at the Goldener - the shudder that had gripped Maria's body under Landa's touch. He realised now it had been a shudder of disgust, though in truth it didn't make him feel much better. Which led him to another topic weighing heavily on his mind...
"On the terrace.. " he continued, throat working furiously, "at the Goldener. You defended him so fiercely-"
"But under duress," She bleated, her eyes meeting his in a silent plea for forgiveness, "I couldn't risk exposure, I couldn't risk saying anything else in case he were to overhear! I meant not one of the insidious words I said that day, nor the day I asked for the divorce," she took his face in her hands, "you have to believe me, Georg. I could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror."
Silence.
"The last few months have been hell," she revealed, though without even a hint of self-pity, "I've felt very much alone. Terrified, at times. The children can hardly look me in the eye - and watching you suffer at my hand has been..." she trailed off, words failing her, "But if I didn't acquiesce, they would've thrown you to the wolves."
Georg said nothing for a long while, mulling her words over in his mind and trying to determine how best to voice his own feelings. He knew she was right, that she hadn't been given a choice in the matter. But even so, he was going to be brutally honest with her.
"I won't lie to you, Maria," he told her gravely, letting her see the raw emotion behind his eyes, "there were times - mostly when there was a bottle of cognac lodged in my brain - that I thought about ending it all..."
A shuddering breath was her only response before he continued.
"Losing you was.." he rubbed the back of his ear uncomfortably, "well it was very hard. But I refused to abandon the children again - because of the lessons you taught me. Even when I wanted to despise you, it was your words from two years ago that kept me going. Please Captain, love them, love them all. You gave me my life back. I was angry and hurt, yes - but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't hate you. How could I? I love you."
"And I you," she insisted, hardly able to bear his confessions.
"I just.. " he swallowed hard, "I just wish you could've told me. Instead I was forced to uncover everything through that blasted telegram of Max's that I found in my study-"
"You found the telegram?" Maria's eyes brightened suddenly, "that was my telegram, Georg - not Max's," she corrected, "I left it there deliberately in the hopes that you would discover it. I was trying to send you a message. I wanted to tell you so badly. But you wouldn't have stood for it. And then the British would've carried out their threats after all."
Mind reeling at this new discovery, Georg couldn't deny that even he had managed to underestimate his wife in the past few months. Despite unfathomable dangers, she had managed through sheer stubbornness and force of will, to rise to every challenge, to cross every hurdle, displaying strength and bravery, wit and cleverness and, yes—as he had recently learned —even a fierce cunning one might not expect to find in a woman from such a holy background.
And now here she was, this beautiful, spirited, complex woman before him, exceeding his expectations all over again in her bid to protect the most important thing in her life. To her, it wasn't an obligation or a duty - he knew. Instead, it was simply an innate truth; in the same way a lioness would always defend her cubs, Maria von Trapp would always defend her family.
When her next words broke his reverie, he could hear her voice cracking under the strain, "I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
"Oh darling," he acquiesced, any remaining resentment melting away at the pain in her plea, "there's nothing to forgive," pulling her into his arms, he pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead, "I knew you weren't who you were pretending to be, I just knew it! At first I thought it was John who had put you up to it. But then John accused me, would you believe!" He shook his head bitterly, "It wasn't until we confronted Max that we both found out the truth."
"You must've been so angry."
"Angry?" He spat, "I'm livid! But not with you. What you did was courageous and selfless and heroic. I owe you my life, yet again," he cupped her cheek and she nuzzled gratefully into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, "but I'm furious at the situation we've been forced into. Most of all, I'm furious with Elsa."
Immediately Maria pulled back to look him in the eye, "She kept me safe, Georg," she defended, "she kept us both safe."
"She put you in harm's way in the first place!" He retorted, outraged.
"That may be," Maria agreed, "but her hands were tied too. She and Max have been a constant comfort to me in some of my darkest hours. Without them, I wouldn't have made it through."
Reluctantly he settled back against the pillows, a slight frown darkening his brow. He said nothing for a long time, his face a grave mask as he let her words sink in - and she grew more agitated with every second of silence that passed. Eventually - and to her utmost relief - he took her hand in his.
"Does Landa suspect..?"
"No," she replied firmly, "No I don't believe he suspects a thing. Though he's very curious about you - as you might expect."
Georg shook his head in apparent disgust, "It's not safe here, for either of us," he muttered, "Nor the children. Not anymore. It's only a matter of time."
"When do you leave Austria?" Maria asked, her stomach tightening with dread at the prospect.
He gave a lost shrug - as though he'd hardly managed to get his head around the thought of leaving at all.
"Nearly all of my affairs are in order, so I was planning on going in a matter of days, weeks at most," he revealed, before turning to face her, his eyes ablaze with determination, "But I'm not going without you. Not now."
Instantly, doubt gripped her heart, "Georg.. if I leave now, the Secret Service will surely have me-"
"I don't give a damn about the Secret Service!" He snarled, gripping her hand tighter, "We have to leave Austria. And this house. But I will not flee without you. And they'll call me to serve if I stay."
"But what about Landa?" Maria retorted.
"What about him?"
"I can't just leave without giving the British what they need," she insisted gallantly, "The information I could provide might give them the means to stop him, to stop Hitler! We can't just walk away. I have an obligation to fulfil and I must stay to fulfil it."
For a pacifist, she would make a fine soldier - he admitted begrudgingly. With strong principles, fierce courage, unwavering loyalty and unshakeable determination in pursuit of the good, it was a wonder that she'd never been decorated by the emperor herself. Part of him was sorely tempted to point out the irony of her argument - given that she had once denigrated him so fiercely for his loyalty towards the British Royal Navy. But she had said all those things under duress - he knew that now. And he also knew there was no use in denying her this sense of duty - her scruples were synonymous with his, after all. No - they couldn't sit back and do nothing.
"How long do you need?" He asked.
She eyed him uncertainly before offering an answer, "A couple of weeks. I have copies of documents.. snippets of conversation I can share with Elsa. I found plans.. " she gave an involuntary shudder, and he knew without question exactly which plans she was referring to.
"The Final Solution," he confirmed.
She couldn't mask her surprise, "How did you-?"
"I found the very same plans in Landa's suite that day we banged into one another at the Goldener," he confessed sheepishly, "And then, after I found the telegram, I drove to Mauthausen myself to see if I could make sense of it all. I suspect it's just one of many locations all over Europe in which they're planning to construct prisoner-of-war camps..."
An eerie silence followed before Maria eventually spoke, her voice quiet.
"It was chilling, seeing those blueprints," she whispered, "There are going to be dark times ahead, aren't there."
"I fear this is just the beginning.." Georg confessed, his eyes blackening with melancholy. He remained pensive for long moments before he began to lay forth his plans for their eventual escape, "Alright," he relented, "you keep Landa close, while I get our remaining affairs in order. Remain under cover and don't give him any reason to suspect that anything is out of the ordinary. Once the British have what they need and I've made the necessary arrangements, we'll take the children and head over the border."
"Okay," she whispered simply, her eyes meeting his with a simmering determination.
"Okay?" He repeated in disbelief, hardly daring to hope that she was willing to follow him. He'd expected a rebuttal, a fierce argument to the contrary - but she only pressed a sound kiss to his lips.
"Okay," she confirmed with a nod, "I'll follow you anywhere, my Captain."
Eagerly, he took her cheek in his palm and captured her mouth again, feeling a profound sense of hope for the first time in months.
"One last thing," he added, tracing her lips with his own.
"Hmm?"
"Once we're over the border.. I want you to marry me. I, uh... I ask you to marry me," he corrected sheepishly, "Again."
The little trill of laughter that came from her was music to his ears and she nodded gently in his hands. Almost immediately, it felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
"I could never have done it you know," he murmured hoarsely, "Leaving without you. Even if I hadn't discovered the truth, I don't think I could've left you behind."
"I know," she breathed, covering one his hand with hers, "And rightly or wrongly, I would've come after you. I wouldn't have been able to bear it. Without you and the children, I don't think I could-"
But her sentence was cut short and the blood immediately drained from her face when they heard the dull, hammering thud of a fist on the front door downstairs - so loud that it rattled through the house, even above the howl of the wind and rain outside. With all the instinct that a life in the navy had taught him, Georg immediately flung himself from bed and scrambled roughly into his clothes before Maria had even had a chance to draw breath.
"Stay here," he commanded, his voice low and his eyes sharp as he padded on bare feet towards the door.
"Georg, wait!" She hissed from the bed, her voice laced with panic - but he was already slipping out onto the landing like a jungle cat on the hunt, finger pressing to his lips before he disappeared from sight.