A/N: hope you're all still with me!

With a lazy yawn and a strong cup of coffee that he'd obtained from one of Georg's maids, Max Detweiler made his way onto the villa's veranda and helped himself to an unsupervised strudel that he discovered resting on a plate atop the table. Biting into the treat with relish and gazing out onto the stillness of the lake, he remembered just how much he loved rich people and the way they lived. The Bristol was lovely but it lacked a certain personal touch - namely, a free wine cellar - and it was perhaps for that reason that the impresario had invited himself over to Aigen for a spot of brunch. That, and the fact that he was determined to find out exactly what might've taken place in the Goldener between master and governess two nights ago.

It had taken a Herculean effort for Max to hold his tongue during the particularly tense drive back from the Goldener the previous morning. Georg's mood had been positively thunderous and Max had been desperate to needle his sulking passenger for any hint of a secret liaison with his former governess. But even the impresario - who notoriously didn't know when to quit - had sensed that pushing his friend would result in a storm of epic proportions.

Georg's scowl had been enough to silence even the most outrageous of conversationalists. His arms had remained folded rigidly across his chest, his shoulders hunched with tension, and he'd continued to glare at the passing scenery as though he'd wanted to set the trees alight with his obsidian eyes alone. It hadn't been lost on the impresario that fraulein Maria's distress appeared to have coincided perfectly with Georg's surliness. But somehow he'd managed to keep his observations to himself. There would be a time and a place to confront his friend about what had potentially taken place at the Goldener, but the car journey back to Aigen had not been it. He would have to wait for the opportune moment..

"Helping yourself to my strudel Max!" Came a sudden disapproving voice from behind him, breaking him from his devilish thoughts, "must be unhappy!"

Georg stepped out onto the veranda, looking decidedly more chipper than he had done the previous morning, though his eyes were still shadowed with a hint of weariness, Max noticed.

"Where's Elsa?" The impresario asked, "She told me she'd be getting back sometime yesterday?"

In truth, Max was rather intrigued to see whether Georg's behaviour around his wife had changed at all since he'd last seen them together, and he was growing increasingly more impatient in his search for the next clue that might confirm his suspicions.

"She did come back, yes," Georg retorted allusively, sidling up to the balustrade and leaning his palms against it, entirely avoiding his friend's suspicious gaze and whistling a little too casually.

"Well is she still freshening up?" Max pushed restlessly, glancing towards the villa's second floor, eager to witness some sort of delicious tension.

But Georg only emitted a long and impatient sigh, rolling his eyes, "actually Max if you must know, she's gone back to Vienna."

The impresario's eyes narrowed instantly, giving him a shrew-like appearance that would've seemed comical if it wasn't for his pestering nature, "so soon?" He couldn't mask his disappointment, "For how long?"

Georg cleared his throat in discomfort, knowing it would be impossible to avoid the question forever, "um.. indefinitely."

As expected the impresario's reaction was one of utter outrage.

"What?!" He bellowed, his eyes as wide as saucers and his moustache practically quivering with incredulous disbelief.

"It's been a long time coming," Georg insisted, though his feeble explanation did nothing to erase the bizarre look of horror twisting the impresario's brow.

"Good God!" Max spluttered, his face suddenly turning white, "what did you do Georg?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Georg defended, his pulse beginning to quicken in panic, "Elsa's fine!"

"I'm not talking about Elsa!" Max hissed with indignation, "just what in the hell did you do to the girl?!"

"What girl?!"

"Maria of course!" Max cried, throwing his hands in the air in frustration, "What. did. you. do!"

He punctuated each word with a sharp prod to Georg's chest with his index finger, until Georg batted the accusatory hand away with an offended scowl.

"How.. how dare you!" he stammered, his scandalised voice positively dripping with the undertones of his guilt, "how dare you insinuate that I-"

"So you didn't do anything you should've have at the Goldener?" Max pressed, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

Immediately Georg felt his cheeks redden, the protest dying on his lips - and he could do very little to stop it as the expression on his face shifted from righteous anger, to sudden panic, to eventual guilt. When Max's scrutiny became too much, he closed his eyes in shame.

"Oh you complete cretin!" Max yelled as comprehension dawned, his hand flying to his forehead in horror, "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't thinking!" Georg protested, his eyes flying open.

"Not with your brain, at least!"

Instantly Georg felt rage bubble inside him, "Now just see here Max!" He bellowed, but the impresario didn't seem to notice the acid in his friend's tone, nor the silent threat in his eyes.

"Does the lieutenant know?" he babbled, not bothering to wait for an answer, "I'm surprised he hasn't beaten you to a pulp!"

"No he doesn't know but I hardly think-"

"Did you even stop to consider the consequences!" Max interrupted like a scolding mother hen, beginning to pace in agitation, tugging at his moustache in his excitable state.

"Yes, I've tried to make-"

"Is that why Elsa left?" Max hissed, pacing so fast Georg could hardly keep up, "How did she find out?"

"I told her, but-"

The impresario suddenly halted in his tracks with a bizarre strangled sound and whirled round to face his friend, staring at him with sheer incredulity, "Jesus Georg, you told her?!" He choked, "I know we all once went by the saying 'a girl in every port' - but the last thing you do is go and confess to it!"

"Well I wasn't going to lie to her!"

"Oh how noble of you!" Max scoffed with a mocking curtsy, rolling his eyes and turning away in obvious disapproval.

"Well if you weren't so self absorbed -" Georg accused angrily, feeling the sting of his friend's judgement, "- you might've noticed that she's been off on her own jollies with some musician back in Vienna!"

The resulting silence was deafening as Max turned on the spot, his brow marred with confusion, until the words sunk eventually in.

"Oh..."

"Hmm!" Georg confirmed righteously, glad that the impresario at least had the good grace to sound remorseful for his previous outbursts.

"I suspected... " Max whispered, shaking his head, "but I didn't know. I'd always hoped I was mistaken," he took an urgent step closer, his face a picture of unwelcome pity, "Georg if I'd truly thought it was happening I would've come to you-"

"I know Max," Georg held up a hand to stop him, "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

A heavy silence shrouded them again as Max tried to get his head around everything that he'd just been told.

"So that's it then?" He eventually asked, hardly daring to believe his own words, "It's over?"

"I believe so, yes."

With a crestfallen sigh the impresario gazed longingly our onto the lake and muttered something that sounded very much like "all that lovely money..." - and Georg couldn't quite mask the small smile that tugged at his lips. Despite it all, Max really was a very charming sponge.

"And all this mess just for the sake of some meaningless flings?" Max interrogated over his shoulder, his surprise evident.

"They weren't meaningless.. " Georg reassured, coming to stand next to his friend and resting his elbows against the stone, following Max's eye line out to the lake, "Elsa is happy with her musician by the sounds of things. And I'm happy for her, despite it all. As for Maria, well..." he gave a helpless shrug, "I love her Max."

"Well.." the impresario blew out a long breath, before flashing him the hint of a wistful smile, "that's something at least."

Whether the quietude that followed meant that Max was reserving any further judgement, Georg wasn't sure - but his friend was clearly deep in thought, for his brow was furrowed and he was clasping his hands in front of him on the balustrade.

"I only have one question, Georg."

"Hmm?"

Their eyes met and Georg couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his oldest friend looking so troubled. It was rather unsettling to say the least, he was so used to that impish face exhibiting a whole lot of mischief and not much else.

"If you love her," Max began, "then why in blazes haven't you done anything about it? I saw her in town only this morning when I left the Bristol. She... she was with that poncy lieutenant still. Surely she should be back here with you, with the children..?"

Feeling his lungs constrict with the painful mental image of the happy couple, Georg attempted to swallow past the painful lump that was forming in his throat. Would it ever get any easier, he wondered.

"I asked her to stay," he rasped, trying to keep his stoic mask in place, "I even told her I was leaving Elsa but.. but she's going back to England," he spat, his eyes darkening, "With him."

"Even after..?"

"Yes, even after." Georg confirmed sharply, leaving the 'we made love' unsaid.

"But why?"

"I don't know," he sighed heavily, "Guilt I would imagine.."

But Max was shaking his head vehemently, "I saw the way she was looking at you at the Goldener, Georg - and the way she used to look at you last summer," he argued bluntly, "She returns your feelings, there's no doubt about that."

"She said she does," Georg shrugged defeatedly, "but now I'm not so sure."

"Well what kind of talk's that!" Max retorted, straightening up and squaring his shoulders, "you should fight for what you want!"

"She's made her choice, Max," Georg insisted stonily, "I told her I'll be waiting.. I can't force her."

The impresario opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue, but quickly thought better of it, instead letting his shoulders sag as he cursed under his breath.

"Well," he murmured eventually, turning back to lean against the balustrade again, "maybe it's for the best then, Georg," he placed a soothing hand on his friend's shoulder, his eyes kind, "Perhaps this will finally give you the means to move on."

"Hmm," Georg replied, lost in his own thoughts, lost to a world that was slowly disappearing before his very eyes, "Except -" he paused for a moment, his tired mind running over everything that had come to pass, everything he'd gained and then lost, everything he'd ever envisioned for himself and his family, everything he'd ever dreamed of for his future. And amidst the incessant white noise, a memory surfaced in his mind's eye - one so vivid that he felt like he was watching it play out on film in front of him.

It was his first memory of Maria, her clumsy yet graceful movements as she bowed low to an invisible partner in the shadows of his ballroom, her ethereal face a picture of mesmerised wonder, her guileless blue eyes wide and curious when they'd first landed on him. She'd been a gift from God, he knew that now. And suddenly he was hit with an epiphany so profound, a revelation so startling and yet so obvious, that he felt as though he was being wrenched out of deep water.

"I don't want to move on.." he whispered, his own realisation hitting him with such force that for a second he couldn't breathe.

"What?" Max straightened beside him.

"I don't want to move on!" Georg repeated louder, grabbing his friend by the upper arms and shaking him in panic, "What the hell am I doing!" He cried, the startled impresario rattling around in his grip like a helpless puppet, "I can't just let her go I... I need to see her! I need to stop her!"

Without waiting for a reply he released his astonished companion and sprung into action, storming towards the house in a whirlwind of sudden determination. It took Max a few seconds of puzzlement to make sense of what was going on, but when he did his eyes widened in alarm and he bolted right after his seemingly possessed friend.

"Wait Georg, just slow down a minute-" he chuckled nervously, hurrying alongside the captain, "just what are you planning on doing here?"

But Georg wasn't listening, grabbing his coat and fedora from the coat stand by the front door and adorning them quick as a flash.

"Georg!" Max beseeched.

"Where are my blasted keys!" Georg growled, patting himself down in search of them.

"Georg!"

"I know they're here somewhere.."

"Georg for God's sake, just slow down!" Max insisted, as his companion rooted around in every pocket, "your blasted coat is on inside out for a start!"

Both men paused in their frenzy for a moment, peering down at the captain's ridiculous appearance, before Georg merely resumed his frantic struggle and hurriedly rectified the wardrobe malfunction, managing to find his car keys in the process.

"Ah ha!" He cried, holding the keys up in triumph before marching to the front door and wrenching it open.

"Georg, just wait a second-" Max scuffled after him, but his friend was already out the door.

"I can't believe I was going to give up..." he heard Georg mutter as gravel crunched under their rapid feet.

"Georg-"

"I won't let her go again.."

By now, Max had had quite enough.

"Georg, WAIT!"

His desperate bellow seemed to do the trick, for Georg halted in his tracks and turned to face the impresario, looking at him as though he'd sprouted a second head, "what is the matter Max?" He asked impatiently.

Now that it was his chance to finally speak, Max suddenly found himself somewhat tongue-tied, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a goldfish. He couldn't bear the thought of crushing his friend's new-found hope but it was inevitable, given the news he would have to deliver.

"When I saw Maria and the lieutenant this morning they were on their way to the train station," he answered, his face a picture of regret, "They bid me farewell.. their bags were packed."

Immediately Georg's stomach plummeted into his shoes and his heart threatened to burst through his chest as it galloped against his ribs. He was frozen to the floor, unable to move, unable to think.

"That's impossible," he managed to rasp, his voice twisting in his throat, "they're not meant to leave for three more days. You must be mistaken-"

"I'm not mistaken, Georg," Max sighed, shaking his head ruefully, "I wish I was. Norden's been called back early on business. He told me himself. They're leaving."

Despair enveloped Georg once again, his chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

"Well why the hell didn't you tell me!" He bellowed, taking his anger out on the nearest available target.

"I thought you knew!" Max defended, "You said yourself she was returning to England!"

"Well when did you see them?!" Georg demanded, glancing frantically at his wristwatch.

"About an hour ago," Max replied, his eyes narrowing, "why, what are you-"

But Georg was already sprinting to his convertible, gravel flying out from under his feet as he skidded to a stop at the driver's door and hurled himself over it into the seat, throwing the car into gear.

"Oh Christ!" Max exclaimed, the engine barely turning over before he was running after his friend and scrambling into the passenger side.

"Are you really going to do this?" He asked breathlessly, scrabbling for his seatbelt as Georg hit the gas with abandon.

"Yes." Georg's stony eyes remained fixed on the road, his knuckles bleaching white where he gripped the steering wheel.

"Just barge onto the platform and steal the damsel from her unsuspecting captor?" Max gawped incredulously as the car darted at lightning speed through the country lanes.

"Yes."

"Don't you think it's all a bit much, for God's sake?"

"Yes."

"Oh.." Max paused, taken aback by the lack of rebuff, "But we're going anyway?"

"Yes."

"Well that's just fantastic.." the impresario huffed sarcastically, sinking back against the plush leather seat with his arms folded in defeat, "I should've just stayed in Vienna!"

When they finally reached Salzburg Hauptbahnhof it was to find that the station were saturated with people, much to Georg's immense frustration. After barging his way to the front of the queue and demanding to know where the next train to France was departing from, he and Max bolted in the direction of the platform, only to be confronted with a fresh mass of passengers overflowing from the vessel. Chests heaving, they frantically scanned their surroundings for any sign of Maria or the lieutenant but to not avail.

"I don't see her, Georg," Max insisted impatiently - but like a compass pointing north Georg's eyes eventually settled upon a halo of golden hair amidst the sea of otherwise dull colours. She was facing away from him, preparing to board the train - and without so much as a single coherent thought, Georg began shoving through the crowd with reckless abandon, his heart in his mouth.

By the time he reached her she'd already spotted him, her attention no doubt caught by the disgruntled hubbub of the parting crowd - and her eyes were blown wide, her mouth hanging agape in utter bewilderment.

"Georg?" She breathed, as though he was a hallucination, "What are you-"

"Maria.. " he rasped frantically, taking her hand in both of his and grasping it to his chest as though she were made of solid gold, "I am so in love with you, please... " his voice cracked from the strain as he fought to catch his breath, "please, don't leave.. don't do this."

Her face had fallen with distress as he'd spoken the words, tears pooling behind her eyes while she stood, dumbstruck, her head shaking in mindless denial.

"Maria, it's not too late for us," he implored, desperately trying to get through to her despite her obvious fear, "just don't get on this train, just-"

"Captain Von Trapp?"

Georg spun on the spot to find a very confused lieutenant Norden frowning at the scene before him with a suitcase in one hand and two tickets clasped in the other, his eyes shifting from Maria to Georg, to their entwined hands at Georg's chest. It must've looked very odd to the young man, Georg admitted - and immediately he released Maria's trembling fingers as if he'd been burned.

"What's going on here?" The Lieutenant scowled suspiciously, before he turned on the captain, his eyes darkening with anger, "did that Detweiler scoundrel send you?" but Georg didn't have the time nor the patience to explain it to the boy. The train would be leaving at any minute and he had so much more left to say.

Entirely ignoring the lieutenant's question and turning back to Maria, Georg desperately tried to get through to her with the tenderness in his eyes alone.

"Come on Maria, let's stop this madness, alright?" He whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her again, "Let's go home.."

"Maria," Norden huffed impatiently, unable to hear quite what was going on, but disgruntled nonetheless, "I don't know what this is about but we really ought to find our seats.."

"Just one minute!" Georg snarled over his shoulder, before meeting Maria's eyes again, "come on," he held out his hand to her as though coaxing a terrified child, "it's okay darling..."

She hesitated for a moment, but then ever so slowly, she began to raise a trembling hand, reaching out for his - and his heart soared. But much to his horror, the sound of the conductor's whistle pierced through the air a second later and she startled like a lamb, as though waking from a dream - and suddenly she was snatching her hand back, shaking her head in panic as her eyes welled with tears.

"Maria come on!" Norden cried as he grabbed her suitcase for her and boarded the busy train, "it's about to leave!"

"I'm sorry, Georg," came her strangled whisper, still shaking her head as she backed away from him, "I can't do this now.. I'm so sorry."

"But.. Maria-"

"I'm sorry," she muttered over and over again, her face a picture of agony as she followed Alfred onto the train. Georg could do little else than stare after her in bewilderment, his eyes never leaving hers as the conductor ushered him out the way and slammed the train door shut between them. She was still gazing at him with tortured eyes through the glass, her face twisted with a shadow of grief that pierced right into his heart. Time seemed to stand still then, the earth shifting on its axis under his feet - until steam hissed from the chimneys, and the pistons groaned to life, the train pulling away and eventually rolling out of sight.

A/N: still enjoying? Thoughts always appreciated!