A/N: I'm sorry to have left you all on such a cliffhanger! It's been a bit manic over here in the UK with the EU referendum as you can imagine! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installment :)
Blood. It was all Maria could see.
It soaked his beautiful white waistcoat, it seeped into the ridges of his war medals, it caked his mangled features where flesh and bone had once formed a handsome face, it stained her own shaking hands where she frantically stroked his matted hair from his forehead.
He lay still, unconscious, unrecognisable, barely breathing. But alive.
Zeller and his violent thugs had disappeared into the night, leaving behind a life hanging by a thread. And Maria had flung herself like a rag doll to Georg's side, frantically praying that he would wake, that he would open his blackened eyes and look at her.
He didn't.
And that's when she heard her sobs of despair turn into shouts of desperation, her own voice sounding foreign to her as she pleaded for someone - anyone - to come to their aid. She couldn't see straight, she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe - everywhere around her was the stench of blood and sweat and earth, the crimson stains seeming to seep into her very soul.
Amidst the chaos, she was vaguely aware of warm hands suddenly gripping her upper arms, trying to gently pull her away - but she screamed louder, clinging to Georg's limp body.
"Fraulein.." A soothing voice she recognised, "Maria, please.. You must come.."
Max had been enjoying a cigar with several other gentlemen who had remained after the majority of the guests had left. Their light conversation had slowly ebbed away as they'd heard desperate cries in the distance and they'd hurriedly followed the disturbing sound, their brandies left abandoned.
What he and his companions had seen when he reached the veranda made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. A helpless, hysterical Fraulein Maria was clutching desperately to a dark, lifeless form under a nearby tree. He knew instantly that it was Georg, though his distorted features meant that the only means of identifying him was his coat tails and medals.
Max had broken into a sprint then, followed by his companions, save for one or two who remained behind to ensure the ladies still in attendance wouldn't witness the disturbing scene.
His heart pounding, he wrapped his arms around the Fraulein and gently pulled her to her feet, letting her collapse against his body in defeat as the other men surrounded his best friend's broken body.
"Fraulein! My God in heaven what happened?!" He shook her in his anguish when she didn't answer, "Maria!"
But she did nothing but sob, hard wracking sobs into Max's shoulder that chilled him to his very core. He needed to discover what had happened but not now. Not like this. He would calm her. He would help her. And he would talk to her. Most of all he would go out of his way to ensure that Elsa, who had retired a short while ago, would remain oblivious to Georg's critical condition until morning.
Maria sipped on the cup of tea that Max had handed her, her eyes bloodshot and her face pale as she gripped the mug closer, allowing the hot liquid to sooth her insides and warm her numb hands. They sat in Georg's study, the head of the house having been carried to his suite by loyal friends while a doctor had been called by a worry-stricken Frau Schmidt.
Max took a long swig from his tumbler, attempting to calm his shattered nerves. With the help of the other gentlemen, he had managed to defuse the situation relatively quickly and discreetly, encouraging the last of the oblivious guests to finally take their leave. Now that the villa was empty, an unsettling silence hung in the air like a sickness, when only a few hours ago it was filled with music and dancing and laughter.
How could anyone be so filled with unrelenting evil as to take pleasure in nearly beating the life from another with their bare hands? It perplexed Maria, who'd always tried to see the good in everyone. But the memory of Zeller's satisfied sneer as he's split Georg's face haunted her, as though the image was etched onto her eyelids forever.
"There were four of them?" Max asked gravely and Maria nodded, wanting to answer as many of his questions as she could.
"Zeller and three others?"
Another nod.
"And they just attacked him out of nowhere? Unprovoked? Unforeseen?"
Another nod.
"Bastards," he muttered under his breath before apologising for the curse word.
"How could they?" She whispered, barely audibly.
"Unfortunately these men believe themselves to be untouchable," Max replied softly, "Georg has always been rather vocal about his thoughts on the Nazis - what better way to spread fear and submission amongst Austrians than beating a man in his own home?"
Another silence hung between them before he suddenly asked, "What was Georg doing outside in the first place?"
Maria's breath caught in her throat at the memory of their earlier encounter - was it really only mere hours ago that she'd blushed in his arms and he'd followed her to the tree to confess that he wanted only her? She wondered what would have happened had they not been so savagely interrupted. She had felt hot all over at his touch in those moments, allowing her heart to pound against her ribs as she anticipated that he might take her in his arms and kiss her. She had imagined a heated clash of warm, wet mouths, a desperate entwinement of arms, a declaration of love after weeks of suppressed longing. But it had been viciously robbed from them.
She was pulled from her reverie suddenly by Max clearing his throat and eyeing her suspiciously, but still she said nothing.
"In fact, what were you doing outside Fraulein?" He pressed.
"We.. I... We.."
"Yes?"
"I just... needed some air," she breathed, unable to meet Max's knowing gaze. He tugged at his moustache absentmindedly as he began to pace the length of the study, a deep frown etching his features. Something didn't add up.
He had been watching silently over the last few months as his friend had transformed before his very eyes. Just when Georg had seemed to reach the depths of grief that no man could ever come back from, the friend that Max had once known was suddenly returning to them. The Georg that laughed, joked, fought for his believes and sought the next adventure all in a day's work. Only, this Georg had a new side to him that Max had never been privy to before - the gentler side, the doting father, the romantic musician, the playful employer..
As he eyed the nervous Fraulein, Max began to recollect all the stolen glances, the lustful stares, the hidden touches, the knowing smiles between his friend and the governess that he'd been witness to over the last few weeks, and he realised that it wasn't merely a passing attraction as he had first suspected. The way Georg had changed as though only for her.. the way Maria had clung to him in despair as he lay beaten on the ground.. it suddenly became startling clear to Max.
They were in love.
Did they even know it? He wondered, as he watched the Fraulein's face betray her inner turmoil. To an outsider, it would seem as though she were merely rattled by the terrifying experience, but Max knew better. This was the face of a woman who had been forced to watch the man she loved get beaten to within an inch of his life. He remembered with vivid clarity how she had clung to Georg's body, consumed with wracking sobs of grief. The memory sent a chilling shiver down his spine.
"You care deeply for each other, don't you," He whispered sympathetically, watching as the young Fraulein's brow knitted in anguish and her panic-stricken eyes met his for the first time that evening.
Her chest heaved and she opened her mouth as if to speak but a knock on the door silenced her.
"Herr Detweiler, Fraulein Maria," it was Frau Schmidt, a welcome intrusion as far as Maria was concerned. The elder lady often exuded an air of motherly care that calmed Maria's torn nerves - something she needed moreso now than ever before, "the doctor and paramedics are here to see the Captain."
"Broken nose, broken jaw, fractured cheekbone, some nasty swelling, there will be some unpleasant bruising..."
Maria barely heard a word the doctor was saying. It was the early hours of the morning and she was utterly exhausted, but she knew sleep would never claim her even if she tried. To her surprise, Max had insisted she come with him and Frau Schmidt to the Captain's suite to listen to the doctor's verdict. But now, gazing upon Georg's face, blackened and bandaged and oh so vulnerable, she didn't know if she had the strength to hear it.
"My paramedics have cleaned him up well and the cuts, bruises, broken bones - these will all heal in time," the doctor continued, "however.. Though he is stable, he's suffered some head trauma and until he wakes it will be impossible to determine what the impact of this may be."
"When is he likely to wake?" Max murmured, his voice so quiet, so grave, so unlike the playful Herr Detweiler Maria was used to. It unnerved her terribly.
"Again it's impossible to tell but I would've thought in a few days time," the doctor replied, "he will need constant care in the meantime so perhaps it's best he is hospitalised.."
"No," Maria and Frau Schmidt both spoke at once, their voices quiet but firm.
"No, we will ensure he is cared for day and night Doctor Schultz," Frau Schmidt insisted. She had served the family for almost twenty years and Maria was deeply touched by her loyalty and obvious motherly affection towards her employer. She was deeply grateful to the older woman for speaking out - the Captain would recover at home, surrounded by the love and support of his family.
"Very well," Doctor Shultz replied, "his wounds will need cleaning daily, his nightclothes will need changing on a regular basis. Monitor his state and alert me immediately if anything is amiss. And speak to him, it may rouse him from unconsciousness sooner. If five days passes and he shows no progress, he simply must be hospitalised."
"Thank you doctor," Max shook his hand as the four of them made their way towards the door, "I'll watch over him tonight, and after that the ladies and I will take shifts."
Allowing herself one last backward glance at Georg, Maria prayed that soon enough those deep blue eyes would open and still her beating heart once again.
Three days had passed and the Captain was still comatose, the only indication that he was still alive being the slight rise and fall of his chest. The news had been broken to the children and the Baroness by a compassionate Max the morning after the attack and it was obvious to see they were deeply disturbed. The children had cried tears of fear for their father and begged to see him, though their request had been denied given Georg's current state. The Baroness, on the other hand, had remained silent, composing herself with all the grace that her upbringing had taught her, before calmly offering to do her part in restoring him to full health.
Maria had been responsible for watching over the Captain on the second night, after the children had been put to bed, and she had been relieved to finally be alone with him. It had been so hard to suppress her sorrow in front of the children and the Baroness. It had been even harder to refrain from showing any physical affection towards Georg. And when she had finally been given some privacy with him, she had allowed herself to let go. She had soothed him lovingly with gentle strokes through his thick hair, she had littered his forehead with light kisses, she had held his strong hand and whispered words of adoration against his cheek after cleaning his wounds.
And now that it was her turn again to take watch, she felt a surge of relief that she would be able to express her sorrow and show affection for the man she loved, without the fear of being caught.
Her heart in her mouth with anticipation, she approached his bedroom and was met by the sound of the Baroness's voice on the other side of the door, talking to the unconscious captain as instructed by the doctor.
"Honestly Georg, what were you thinking voicing your thoughts so openly," she chastised her oblivious listener, "the important thing these days is to get on with everybody as I said, you need to at least pretend to agree with these people..."
Not wanting to eavesdrop, Maria interrupted the Baroness's monologue by knocking lightly on the door before entering.
"Oh, hello dear.." The Baroness greeted her coolly from the armchair in the corner of the room, where she had been flicking through a magazine, one slender leg crossed over the other, "nothing's changed, he hasn't moved a muscle since my watch began."
Maria shifted further into the room uncomfortably, very aware of the Baroness's eyes on her as she dared to glance at the Captain.
"Max already re-dressed his wounds this morning and I changed his nightclothes," she stated almost smugly, "all you have to do keep an eye on him."
She rose from her chair and passed Maria, giving her a sickly sweet smile, "can you manage that my dear?"
Did she suspect anything? Maria worried, her heart suddenly pounding. How could she possibly know? How could she possibly know that when she was alone with Georg, Maria held his hand and kissed his wounds and soothed him? How could she possibly know how much Maria longed for him? How could she possibly suspect that Georg had confessed his feelings to her?
Maria nodded slowly, desperate to be free from the Baroness's scrutiny.
"Good," the Baroness murmured, "because other than keeping watch, your only duty to him is to keep his children in line...remember that."
And with that, she left them alone, the meaning of her words hanging palpably in the eerie silence of the room.
Letting out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, Maria made her way to the chair the Baroness had just vacated, pulling it far closer to the bed before settling next to Georg. Unable to stop herself, she ran her featherlight touch across his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw - tracing and memorising every crevice, every scar, every defining mark of his face. She allowed her hand to drift down his arm, gripping his warm fingers between hers and bringing his hand to her lips.
"Oh Georg, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking as she looked upon his fragile face, "I tried to deny what we both felt.. I was scared.. Confused.. and now I'd do anything to be able to tell you that I want you too. I want you more than anything."
She let the silence fall around them again as she brought his hand to her lips for the second time, closing her eyes and holding his warm touch against her cheek, taking comfort in his proximity.
That's when she heard his voice pierce the silence and her heart turned over in her chest.
"Fraulein?"
Her head snapped to attention to find that Georg's eyes were very much open, piercing and bloodshot as they bore into her face. He was awake.
"Oh Georg!" She went to throw her arms around him in elation but he shunted her away and pulled his hand from her grasp as though burned.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He barked, his steely gaze burning a hole in her.
She looked upon his face in confusion and realised with dismay that the infamous scowl she hadn't seen in months was back - etched into his bruised skin, his eyes were dark with contempt and anger, his body was rigid with disdain. He looked at her in disgust and she realised, to her horror, that this wasn't the man she knew...
"Answer me Fraulein!"
"Georg, I.."
"It's Captain Von Trapp to you!" he shouted, "what are you doing here! My suite is no place for servants!"
"Georg, you were viciously attacked.. You.."
"What are you doing here!"
"Georg please.."
"Get out!" He bellowed, his eyes blackened in anger and confusion, "you forget yourself Fraulein, get OUT!"
Maria choked back the tears of despair as she fled from the room. Georg hadn't woken up as the man she knew.. the Georg who treasured his children, the Georg who greeted her with a knowing smile, the Georg who sang as though only to her.. This man was the bitter, angry widower she had met when she'd first arrived at the villa.
He had forgotten.