Morning, Noon and Night

by augiesannie

It was the most important day in their lives. From the time the sun came up until the moon shone over the gazebo, here's the story of that day, told from Georg's and Maria's points of view, with lots of flashbacks sharing my take on how they fell in love. Well-worn territory, but I liked writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. More chapters coming soon!

5. Chapter 5: Night

At last! M&G appear together in the same chapter! As always, thanks for your wonderful reviews and private messages. They are really helpful. If you have read other TSOM fanfics as closely as I have, you will see some familiar images and ideas in here – but I have always said that I am standing on the shoulders of many other talented writers, and I hope they don't mind. Don't forget to find the TSOM Fanfic group on Facebook. And, as usual, I don't own anything about the Sound of Music. Enjoy this newest chapter – another A/N appears at the end.

Chapter 5 Night

That evening's dinner at the von Trapp villa was, in many ways no different from the dozens that preceded it. The table sparkled with china, crystal and silver. Franz moved about quietly, offering course after course of delicious food and wine. It was Liesl's turn to say grace. Brigitta snuck a book to the table. Max kept up a stream of amusing patter. The children were ebullient, talking all at once, vying for Maria's attention, filling her in on everything that had happened in the week she'd been gone – Marta's lost tooth, Gretl's first swimming lesson, the fish Friedrich had caught, and so on.

In other ways, the evening was not quite normal. Elsa arrived a few minutes late, having changed into a stunning red gown Georg had last seen her wear to the opera. She sat in her usual place at his left. But while she smiled absently at Max's jokes, she was clearly preoccupied, her mind elsewhere.

And Maria was more subdued than Georg had ever seen her, so pale and lifeless that it frightened him. Seated at the other end of the table, she helped the youngest children with their food, and she offered a quick smile or nod at each nugget of the children's news, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it. He could barely recognize in her the outspoken, even brash young woman who had eaten so many meals in this room. How many times he had teased her about her hearty appetite, urging second helpings on her over Franz's quiet disapproval? - but tonight she simply moved her food around on her plate.

Georg wanted to believe the obvious explanation – that Maria was distressed by his plans to marry Elsa. But doubts continued to chase around in his mind: she may have returned only to say goodbye to the children, that alone would break her heart. Yet if that were the explanation for her odd behavior, then why was she doing her best to avoid any eye contact with him? By the end of the meal, despite his disquiet, he found himself making a game of it, staring at her intently, waiting for the moment when she'd have to look up. If he caught her eye, she looked away quickly.

Georg was quieter than usual as well. Although normally capable of superhuman restraint, he could barely keep himself from standing up and . . . and what? It had been just a few hours since he had broken the news to his children that he was going to marry Elsa, only to realize that he could not do so. He had had barely an hour to recover from the shock of Maria's return and he seemed unable to think, to strategize, the kind of cool-headed thinking that had served him so well under fire.

What exactly is your next move? he asked himself. To declare yourself, that you could not stop thinking about her the whole time she was away? To sweep her into your arms? Georg was not even certain that her feelings for him had brought her back to the villa, and what if they were? Maria was young, very young, and innocent – that was part of her charm. She had spent her teenage years at Nonnberg, hidden behind those gloomy stone walls while other girls her age were learning to flirt with boys and to break their hearts although she has very nearly broken mine, he thought. She will be frightened no matter what you do. You will have to go slow . . .

Maria had not recovered from the blow of learning about the engagement. She tried to focus on the children, to bask in their obvious joy at her return, to treasure the news they were so eager to share with her. She could not resist an occasional peek at the Captain, who looked more impossibly handsome than ever. Even in her miserable state, however, she couldn't help noticing that something was not quite right at his end of the table. He and the Baroness were not behaving the way that Maria, in her limited experience, expected an engaged couple to act. They spoke to each other politely, like two strangers sitting next to each other on the bus, and their eyes rarely met. It wasn't like they were angry at each other, exactly, just not connected. Just another thing about this world I will never understand, she thought bitterly, couples who love each other but barely speak. If someone were in love with me – if I loved someone – I could not possibly keep it hidden. Was this really the Captain von Trapp she knew, that "fine, brave man" ? Instinctively, her eyes slid back to his end of the table, only to find him staring at her. Hastily, Maria looked down at her lap.

"Fraulein Maria, you haven't guessed yet!" Kurt's voice brought Maria back to her end of the table.

"Hm? I'm sorry, darling?" Maria murmured, weakly.

"We are guessing the answer to this riddle: What has eyes but can't see, a tongue but can't talk, and a soul but can never find love?"

I am not the person to ask about love, Maria thought, ruefully. Mercifully, the children barely noticed when she failed to answer, shouting answers out over each other. "A nun?" guessed Marta.

"Why would you say that?" sneered Louisa.

"Because they cannot marry, and so they cannot love anyone," Marta explained.

Maria, stung by that unintended barb, hardly heard Liesl explain that the sisters, like Fraulein Maria, were all about love, hardly heard Max solve the riddle: "a shoe!"

And with that, dinner ended.

"Father, may we be excused?" Friedrich's voice interrupted Georg's thoughts.

"And Father," Louisa added, "would it be all right if, just this once, instead of singing after dinner, we – we went to Fraulein Maria's room to talk? There is so much we have to tell her!"

"Yes, yes, of course," Georg said. "Max, Elsa – do go on into the drawing room, I'll join you shortly." Dinner seemed to have lasted an eternity, and he hardly thought he could last another hour through the children's newly-established ritual of singing after dinner - a ritual he had tried to preserve with Maria's departure, but that had taken on a gloomy air without her.

He knew he would have to be patient, to bide his time before approaching Maria. Still, he could not resist doing a bit of reconnaissance. And he wanted to reassure her somehow, to ease her obvious suffering if he could. Watching her rise from her seat and creep toward the door – she stayed close to the wall, he noticed, as though taking evasive action in battle – Georg moved into the doorway, blocking her path.

"Fraulein," he started, bowing his head slightly, "it is . . . that is, I am, that is the children are . . . well, really, all of us are . . . happy to have you back with us." But she still refused to meet his eyes. He put his hand under her elbow – an innocent gesture, really, one a gentleman might make toward any lady as they left the room together – but she snatched her arm away as though he had nudged her with a branding iron.

"I'm not feeling entirely well, Captain. I'm so sorry. And I need to see to the children. Perhaps tomorrow . . ." And with that, she raced up the stairs behind the children.

Georg sighed and turned on his heel, heading for the drawing room and decisive action – he meant to have it out with Elsa. That he knew he had to do.

But Elsa – Elsa was having none of it. She had snapped out of her earlier gloom and was in rare form, laughing at Max's jokes, encouraging him to share yet another story, putting on the radio, dancing a few steps with an imaginary partner. . Georg knew her well enough to see the frantic edge, to see that she was avoiding another confrontation with him. Putting off the inevitable. "Max," he said, "Max, would you excuse us for a moment, I need to talk with Elsa…"

Max shot him an amused look – "I thought I was your chaperone, Georg, it's a most irregular request," he joked, but agreeably ambled out of the room.

Unfortunately, Elsa knew what was coming. "Excuse me, Georg, I need to make a telephone call." Exasperated, Georg told himself to be patient. It's the least you can do for her. She was patient with you, all those months.

He stepped out onto the balcony, enjoying the breeze, the moon's glow reflected in the lake. Although Georg was a man given to action, and not reflection, he was in an unusually introspective mood, brought on, perhaps, by the beautiful night, or perhaps the feeling that he was poised at a critical moment, at the opening of a new chapter in his life.

How he'd loved this home when he and Agathe bought it, just after Louisa's birth! His wife had joked at the time that they would need to have at least ten more children to fill it up. But it had become a prison after her death. Georg could hardly bear to stay here, leaving more and more frequently for Paris, Stockholm, London, Vienna, anywhere that he could escape her memory. Elsa had distracted him, had made him laugh again, but it was Maria, really, he thought, that made the family whole. Somehow, by reuniting him with his children, she had helped him find a way to hold Agathe's memory in his heart and his home, rather than run from it. He was forever in her debt.

With a moment to reflect on the stormy seas around him, Georg plotted his course, pondering the best approach to Maria. He did not dwell on the possibility that he was wrong – about what would happen if she planned to return to Nonnberg, if she denied the feelings that had clearly grown between them. What had one of his lieutenants said years ago? "The Captain wins every battle because he simply never accepts that defeat is an option."

He smiled at the memory of his courtship of his first wife, how her parents had fought the match at every turn, how he had confidently navigated through those battles, his mind entirely focused on the ultimate objective – to marry Agathe. That campaign had ended successfully and this one, although of course a different sort of campaign, would, too.

As if on cue, Maria appeared, walking toward the lake, aimlessly, her head bowed. How lovely she was, how real, like an anchor for his family while the rest of the world was in turmoil If things went as planned – and things always went as planned for Georg von Trapp – she would be his within hours.

He acknowledged the risks ahead. Even if she acquiesced, he was sailing into uncharted territory – there would be social repercussions, not only over his broken engagement, but over the scandal of a liaison with his governess. His reputation might not recover, and while he did not care much for convention – certainly not now, when the world was crumbling around them - the children might suffer. But they loved her dearly, he was sure of that, surely they would come around.

He was not unaware of the challenges – no skilled strategist ever was. He was a widower with seven children, twenty years her senior. She clearly was not impressed by his wealth, his standing, all the things that drew other women to him like moths to a flame. He would be taking her away from the only future she had ever hoped for. Could he really make her happy? But then he remembered the look on her face when she broke out of his arms after their dance. Reminding himself again how young and innocent she was, he reminded himself, go slow.

"There you are!" He started at Elsa's voice. He smiled at her, gently, wanting above all to be kind, to be a gentleman. He listened to her chatter on about the wedding, smiled at her jokes, and waited to catch her attention. "Elsa… Elsa! "

"Yes, Georg?"

"It's no use, you and I," he began, gravely, forcing himself to look into her eyes. He wanted, somehow, for both of them to understand how they had ended up in this situation, to explain that he had not intentionally deceived her, that he really had believed marrying her was the right thing to do. "When two people talk of marriage…" he began.

"No, don't," Elsa interrupted. "Don't say another word . . ."

And the next thing he knew, Elsa, her eyes brimming with tears, acknowledged his feelings for Maria and left him with a gentle kiss. Georg was stunned. No matter what version of events she took back to Vienna with her, Elsa had been talking about wedding presents only minutes before, until he interrupted her. It must have cost her a great deal to rewrite our story on the spot, but it was easier for her this way, he thought. He watched her go, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him, but perhaps most of all, for this last moment they had together.

Maria walked aimlessly along the lake, wishing she were still that girl whose heart could be soothed by music or by a day spent in the mountains; tonight, no amount of natural beauty could heal her. Think of the children, she told herself, how happy you were to see them again, to feel their love and devotion. It had not been easy to get them settled down. She'd had to promise the little ones, "Yes, darling, I will be here when you wake up again. I promise." And she'd been careful to tell them, "I can't promise I will stay forever, no, but I will not run away again without telling you." She had felt the older ones' eyes on her, skeptical, curious.

She glanced up at the house involuntarily and flinched at the scene on the terrace: the Baroness, laughing gaily, one possessive arm on the Captain's. No matter what happens between us, I will never be able to casually touch him that way, she thought resentfully. He made an elegant figure as he leaned on the terrace, looking out at the lake, and though she couldn't hear their conversation, she could see him chuckle. When he turned back toward Baroness Schrader, Maria looked away, quickly, afraid of what she might see pass between them. She stopped near the gazebo, sitting on a bench where she would not be able to watch the scene on the terrace. Her head bowed, her shoulders slumped, Maria pondered. I must know. I cannot move forward with my life until I know the truth, until I hear it from him. Maria thought back to her childhood, to the years of fear and mistreatment. I am brave enough to stand anything. But will I be brave enough to turn him down?

"Hello," Georg offered, cautiously.

Instantly, she stiffened, looking up at him suspiciously. He tried to lighten the mood: "I thought I just might find you here," he said, wagging a playful finger at her, trying with one small gesture to remind her of the easy relationship they'd had earlier this summer, the long talks they'd had, the confidences they'd exchanged.

It didn't work. Maria sprang up from the bench and backed away from him. "Was . . . was there something you wanted?" It was hard to believe this was the same outspoken girl he'd bantered with all summer.

"No, no, no," he reassured her, and urged her to sit down. Uneasily, she perched on the very edge of the bench, her back ramrod straight. He carefully asked her permission to join her and paused for a moment. Better not to corner her, to frighten her with his own feelings. Better, perhaps, to give her a way to open up to him.

Cautiously, Georg cleared his throat, and began, "You know, I was . . ." He looked out into the distance and continued, "I was thinking, and . . . I was wondering, uh . . . two things: why did you run away to the abbey, and . . . what was it that made you come back?" Although he tried to sound casual, the way in which he underscored his words betrayed the intensity of his feelings.

"Well, I had an obligation to fulfill and I came back to fulfill it, " Maria answered, and if the tone of her response was matter-of-fact, her rigid posture and the way she stared down at her lap, refusing to meet his eyes, hinted at the turmoil within. She wasn't going to make it easy for him, he could tell. He pressed on. "Is that all?"

She looked off in the distance, toward the villa. "And I missed the children."

I see, my love, a diversionary maneuver. ""O-Only the children?" Georg asked, gently, trying not to smile, although he was reminded of the berry-picking fable his children had woven earlier today.

"No. Yes!" She caught herself, hastily correcting her slip. She looked at him again and said defensively, "Isn't it right I should've missed them?"

"Yes! Yes, of course! I was only hoping that perhaps you... perhaps you might..." he trailed off.

Maria almost visibly gathered her courage, looking at him directly for the first time, leaning ever so slightly toward him. "Yes?"

"Well," Georg started, choosing his words carefully, trying to use the same light, affectionate tone they'd used with each other all summer. "Nothing was the same when you were away . . . and it'll be all wrong again after you leave . . . and I just thought you might perhaps . . . change your mind?"

He was taken aback by her forceful response, not knowing whether to be dismayed or relieved at the sudden, if temporary, return of the old Maria. "I cannot do that," Maria said, looking directly at him, her voice once again strong, even defiant. "Perhaps you have forgotten, Captain, that I am going to be a nun? I am entering Nonnberg Abbey to take my vows in just a few days." She went on, rushing as though she would forget what she intended to say, or lose her nerve, if she took too long. "As I told you, sir, but you seem to have forgotten, I am here only until another governess can be arranged."

Maria lifted her chin and held his gaze with her clear blue eyes, challenging him. But he knew that gesture of hers well, knew it was a display of false bravado. Since the day he'd met her, Georg had doubted that the little governess was destined for the convent. He knew she was lying, if not to him, then to herself.

He was seated only inches away from her, and despairing that his words alone could ever break through the wall she'd put up around herself, he reached over and took one of her hands, clasping it between his. She tried to pull away, but he would not let go, his grasp firm but gentle. Her hand, trembling in his, was softer than his best dreams, but icy cold. She is afraid.

"I think we both know, Fraulein, that's not going to happen." Georg turned her hand so that her palm faced up, studying it carefully as though reading her fortune, squeezing it gently, but fighting the impulse to press his lips to her wrist. She did not resist, but she looked away and he thought he saw her shiver.

"And I think that… I wonder if . . . if there is some other future you dream of for yourself?" He raised his eyes to study her face. "Something that perhaps . . uh . . . we both want?"

Once again, Maria surprised him, this time with how quickly her defenses fell. Georg watched her face crumble. She snatched her hand away from him and stood, rushing into the shadow of a nearby tree. Although he could barely see her face in the gloom, he heard her struggle to control her voice, could almost imagine her eyes filling with tears.

"I beg your pardon, Captain, but we . . . we do not want the same thing. No . . . no matter what you may have . . . ." she paused again, then went on, her voice wavering, ". . . no matter how I-I may have behaved . . ." Her words were barely whispered, "that is not what I want . . ." She cleared her throat, then bleated one last syllable, "Sir."

He was completely bewildered. "Fraulein, " he said, trying to find his way back to the way it had been between them, to evoke a summer's worth of easy affectionate banter between them, "whatever are you talking about?

"You" – Maria paused for a moment, as if gathering enough strength to continue, "whatever you think it is you feel for me, you'll get over it. You've been very kind to pay attention to me all summer . . . to dance with me . . ." Another long pause, the memory of the Laendler hanging in the air between them.

Her voice became stronger, with a sharp edge to it, "But you will get over it. I know that men do. Baroness Schrader was kind enough to explain it all to me, and I'm sure . . ." She moved out of the shadows then, and past him, still avoiding his eyes, walking toward the gazebo, "I know how much you loved your wife. And now Baroness Schrader, well . . . the two of you will be marrying before long, and while I'm sure you would still like to enjoy my, um . . . my company, well, I'm sure the Baroness will be able to make things fine for you." Her tone at the end was surprisingly sharp.

Georg was sickened, and then angry. So Elsa had gotten to her, somehow. He was furious, of course, at Elsa, but he was, in some small corner of his mind, angry, too, that Maria could so easily misjudge him.

He took a deep breath, addressing her carefully, almost formally. "Fraulein. Fraulein. You have been a member of my household for several months. We have spoken, at length, about my . . . my ideals, my beliefs, my wishes for my family, my fears for my country. " She stood completely still as though listening carefully, but she did not turn to face him.

"I can see now, that my behavior has caused you pain, Fraulein, and for that, I must, once again, apologize, and assure you that I hold you in the highest regard. But . . ." he paused, rising from the bench, trying to stay calm.

"But, Fraulein, perhaps you owe me an apology as well. Do you really believe that I am the kind of man that would wed one woman one day and steal into another's bed the next?" He did not raise his voice, and he did not need to: his wrath was evident.

Georg knew his words would shock her. It was a calculated risk, just as she had risked her job, that day, shouting at him, doing whatever she needed to do to make him confront the truth about his children. Now it was his turn to provoke her, to rouse her, to lure her out of the trap she had allowed herself to fall into, to see him for the man he truly was.

Closing the distance between them in a few long strides, he caught up with her. "And in any event, Maria," – she turned, surprised to hear him call her by name - "Maria . . . there isn't going to be any Baroness."

She was obviously bewildered, completely overwhelmed by everything he was saying. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, her voice as forlorn as a lost child's: "There isn't?"

Wanting to give her time to think, Georg answered, simply, "No," staying close to her as she moved, listlessly, toward the gazebo.

Maria was still trying to make sense of what he was saying. "I don't understand."

He explained, patiently, "Well we cut off our engagement, you see, and-"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, offhandedly.

Astonished, Georg stopped short, just inside the gazebo's doorway. Have I misread her? "You are?" he asked, baffled.

At the same moment, as though she had finally begun to listen, but could not believe what she had heard, Maria asked, "You did?"

She felt brave enough, at last, to look directly at him, searching his face for an answer. Something in his voice, in his choice of words, in his unwavering dark blue gaze, in his unexpectedly gentle touch, something persuaded her that that the man in front of her might be her fine, brave Captain after all. Maria felt as though she were waking from a nightmare, suspended in that moment when the mind is trying to sort out what is reassuringly real and what horrors have only been imagined.

Now he turned to face her, coming so close to her that she could see the smallest detail in his handsome face. She thought of the Laendler, of the desire that had burned in his eyes that night, and her heart began to race. A small part of her was frightened, wanted to run away, but his gaze pinned her where she stood.

At first his voice was light. "Well, you can't marry someone . . ." but then something shifted, his tone becoming all at once more tender and more forceful. ". . . when you're . . . in love with someone else . . . can you?"

He loves me. Maria could not tear her eyes away from his, could not utter a sound, fearing that if she moved even a muscle, the moment would dissolve, its magic irretrievably shattered. She managed, at last, to shake her head, the tiniest affirmation that she had heard him. Everything seemed to slow down, every one of her senses magnified. She felt him lift her face toward his, felt his lips brush hers, tentatively at first, then with greater certainty, although it seemed to Maria that there was a question hidden within. She was conscious of nothing but the feeling of his mouth on hers. Her eyes still closed, she reveled in the soft kisses he showered on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheek, while his hands slid down to caress her neck.

He loves me. A flood of feelings – relief, joy, excitement – swept over Maria until, gasping, she all but collapsed into his arms, her head against his shoulder. After all the hours she'd spent dreaming about him, there was no mistaking how real this moment was . . . the firm but gentle way his lips had moved on hers, the scrape of his cheek against her forehead, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the scent of his cologne, the burning touch of his fingers stroking her neck, even the pinch of a shirt button against her cheek – she treasured every one of these sensations because they told her this was no dream.

Too soon, however, the doubts and questions crowded back into Maria's mind. He loves me, but . . . what does it mean? What kind of life lies ahead for someone like me, to love and be loved by a man like him?

Not even realizing she was speaking aloud, Maria reassured herself, " Reverend Mother always says, when the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window."

It was not, perhaps, the first thing Georg expected to hear from her, but he had already learned never to be surprised by Maria. Amused, he leaned back, cupping her face in his hands, smiling tenderly. "What else does the Reverend Mother say?"

"That you have to look for your life," she answered him, seriously, with not even a trace of a smile in her voice.

"Is that why you came back?"

She nodded, but as if embarrassed, looking down at the floor, her lashes brushing her cheek. Was that a tear glistening there?

"And have you found it, Maria?"

He was not prepared for her response. "I . . . I'm not sure. "

The tear slid down her cheek, and he brushed it away, watching her carefully. She paused for so long that he was about to prompt her, when she began speaking again, slowly, as though she were thinking out loud. "I came back to find out the truth about you, about us . . . but now it doesn't seem so simple. " She went on, her voice faltering, still refusing to meet his eyes. "The Reverend Mother . . . well, she has been behind the Abbey's walls for a very long time. She doesn't know, perhaps, everything about . . . about the life that lies beyond those doors and windows . . . "

And now she did look up at him, allowing him to see the love shining in her eyes, illuminating her lovely face. She touched his cheek, gently, for just a moment, as though she wanted to make sure he was real, and he kissed her palm. " It is a relief," - the briefest of smiles flickered across her face - "to know how you feel, and not to have to hide my feelings any more. But . . . I cannot see a way out of this mess. . . "

Her face clouded over. She stopped speaking, abruptly, and he detected a flicker of indignation in her eyes, of the hot-headed Maria he had known all summer. "Do you remember," she asked, challenging him, her eyes narrowing, "the evening of the ball?"

"Indeed I do, darling," he smiled, his hands sliding down the curve of her back to take possession of her waist, "I will never forget it!"

"Not that," she shook her head, impatiently, putting her hands against his chest as though to push him away, although she didn't try very hard, he noticed. "After. After we . . . after the Laendler ended, before dinner, when you . . ."

He flinched at the memory. "Maria, I behaved badly. I will not even try to offer an excuse, but I can tell you that if you allow me, I will . . . "

She cut him off, "I am not asking you to apologize. It's just the way things are, the way they will always be. It's just that . . . let me find another way to explain it." She paused. "Do you remember the night we were playing cards with the children and you could guess, from my face, exactly what I had in my hand?"

Georg smiled, lifting a hand to run his fingers through her hair. "You'd make a terrible spy, darling."

"Exactly." Her voice thickened with tears she would not allow herself to shed. "I don't know if I am strong enough to live that way. It's different for you, I can tell. But to live in your house, to care for your children, and to have to pretend . . ." She swallowed. " . . . And even knowing what I know now, that we both feel . . . to have you pretend not to . . . I have withstood a great deal of adversity in my life, things you do not know about me. But I do not think I could bear the shame, and the pain at the end. In some ways, it is worse now than it was before." Her voice was barely a whisper at the end.

It had cost Maria a great deal, more than she cared to admit, to share her fears with him. She watched his handsome face closely. He looked puzzled momentarily, and then triumphant, as though he had solved an especially tricky puzzle. A mischievous smile crossed his face, but before she could even react - how dare he find this amusing? - the smile faded, as though he had reached some kind of decision. He fixed her with a glare so intense that she could not open her mouth, could not move, could do nothing but wait for him to make the next move. He was clearly in control.

"You have not lived outside those convent walls for very long, Maria. There is indeed a way for us to be together. It's really the most natural thing in the world, once you get used to it." His voice was smooth, persuasive, but the undertone frightened her. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her toward him. She could feel the length of his body against hers.

That's exactly what I'm afraid of, getting used to you. Maria thought. I should run away now, pull away from you this very instant. Because I know this will not end well. But the memory of his kiss, the look in his dark eyes, the way his fingers had traced her neck, the feeling of his hands on her waist and his body against hers, tempted her to stay in his arms just one more moment before fleeing. She tried to meet his gaze, but somehow her eyes kept drifting back to his mouth, and she wondered if he could read her mind still. He loves me. I love him. Yet this may be the very last time I see his face, hear his voice, feel his arms around me. The memory of this moment may be all I have to hold on to. One minute. Just one more minute.

"It's really very natural, very simple," the Captain went on, his voice so deadly quiet that she had to lean closer to hear him. "When two people appear to have so little in common, yet agree about the most important things, the things that matter . . . when they amuse each other, drive each other mad . . . when they are attracted to each other . . ." Maria blushed, shaking her head slightly, but he put a finger to her lips, "Don't bother denying it, darling, we both know it. You are thinking right now about whether to run away from me, or to stay for just one more minute in case I kiss you again, aren't you? "

She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. A shiver ran down her spine. Alas, I am lost. I cannot resist him.

"For two people in our situation," he continued, evenly, his eyes never leaving hers, his hand caressing her hair, her cheek, her neck, his thumb finding a sensitive spot behind her ear. "It is easy to take the next step. You know what it is, don't you? Do you want me to show you or tell you? Very well, then, I'll tell you first and then I'll show you."

He moved closer to her, one arm still firmly around her waist, the other hand still cradling her neck so she could not pull away, his breath warm on her ear. The sound of her own heart thudding was so loud she could barely hear him. He whispered, "You know what we're going to do, don't you, Maria? What I'm going to do?"

A/N: I am sorry, really, for this cliffhanger, and for getting dangerously close to AU, I know, I know. But, as I was trying to finish this story, Georg kept misbehaving and, like Maria, I just could not resist. The chapter was getting too long anyhow – and now you have one more chapter to look forward to as a result! Thank you so much for sticking with me and I hope you'll find it worthwhile.