A/N: very sorry it's taken me a bit longer to update. I lost my phone, and with it I lost a nearly complete chapter! Gr. So I had to start again. Anyway, enjoy.

Nightfall came far too quickly for Georg's liking and he couldn't help the scowl that wrinkled his forehead as he bundled Maria's guitar case and carpet bag into the back of the car. She smiled sympathetically at him as she got into the passenger seat but he could barely force himself to return it, the thought that he might not ever see her again being almost too painful to comprehend. Max had suggested that maybe Franz ought to take her back to the abbey to avoid suspicion but Georg had point blank refused. He wanted to spend every last possible moment with her lest it might be their last.

Their last afternoon together had been nothing short of perfect. They had taken the children up the Untersberg and the sun had been beating down on their innocent, smiling faces. They hadn't a care in the world, as though there was no threat of destruction right around the corner. Georg had watched them pensively from his position on the grass, his long legs stretched out in front of him. They had been dancing, laughing, playing, completely oblivious that they would soon be separated from their father. He thought about how much they might suffer in the next few weeks, months, years, until the sorrow threatened to engulf him and he joined them in their game instead, laughing, rolling around in the grass and clutching his babies to him until his sides hurt.

In the ethereal time between dusk and nightfall, he and Maria had shared loving kisses, caressing one another and whispering sweet nothings in their tree, Georg's symbol etched into the bark next to them as though watching over them and emitting hope. He had clung to her desperately, memorising every detail - her smell, her taste, the colour of her eyes, the swell of her curves, the sound of her voice. It was these precious moments that he would miss the most about his home. The material possessions, the trinkets, they meant very little compared to the years of wonderful memories he'd made here.

He drove on in relative silence, clutching Maria's hand in his lap and bringing it to his lips every so often. She gazed at him through the semi darkness and noticed his jaw set heavily in frustration, his eyes hardened with a sadness he was trying to conceal, his knuckles whitened from his death grip on the steering wheel.

"Darling.." She whispered, "pull over.."

"What?" He didn't look at her, it was as though he couldn't.

"Pull over," she repeated calmly and he acquiesced, bringing the car to a halt at the side of the deserted country lane.

"What's the matter sweetheart?" He asked, staring hard at the steering wheel.

"Look at me Georg," she breathed but still he wouldn't, and his jaw clenched tighter as though he were fighting an inward battle.

"Georg.."

"I'm afraid if I look at you I won't be able to let you go.." He whispered, gripping the steering wheel harder to still his shaking fingers. Wordlessly she took his face in her hands and turned his head until his eyes met hers, the sorrow she saw there breaking her heart in two. This brave, strong man - this warm, caring, emotionally complex individual who would've died for his country, this beautiful man was breaking.

She kissed him then, hard. It was a dangerous kiss, hot and languid, but full of unmistakable comfort and reassurance - an unspoken pact that this would not be their last. She felt the familiar flames leap to life in her stomach as the taste of his mouth hit her tongue, only this time the flames were fiercer, more demanding, as though her body somehow knew she might never taste him again. The realisation hit her like a blow to the chest in those moments and she felt something snap within her - suddenly she very much understood his primal need to take her body in his moments of despair. She understood because she felt it too, overwhelmingly so, as she clung to him desperately. She felt a possessive need to have him as close as their bodies could possibly allow, she needed nothing more than to lose herself in him, to have him buried inside her.

Boldly, she broke their kiss and climbed across the car into his lap, shedding her coat and straddling him as his eyes blew wide.

"Maria, what.. " but she silenced him with her mouth, swallowing his groan and placing his hands on her breasts that longed to be freed and touched. His long fingers found her nipples through the chiffon with ease and stroked them into knots, causing her heart to jump into her throat. The evidence of his arousal was already pressing against her thigh and she longed to free him, to sheath him, to become utterly lost with him, to lead each other into the flames. She didn't care where she was, or where she was headed, or where they might be days from now - the world didn't exist beyond this car, the man underneath her was her only reality.

"Make love to me," she rasped, her fingers fisting in his hair as her chest heaved against his hands. She felt, rather than heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Maria.." He murmured uncertainly, his voice low in his throat. It was a dangerous thing - knowing that all he'd have to do was free himself from his trousers and remove her undergarments to finally be inside her.

"Please," she breathed, biting his lower lip and sending a jolt of electricity straight to where he ached for her. He battled inwardly with himself as she nibbled relentlessly at his throat - in a car of all places, unmarried, fully clothed. It wasn't exactly the first encounter he'd so often fantasised about but the thought that he may never get the chance to lay with her, combined with the heady sensation of the woman he loved pressed against every inch of his body, made propriety seem completely null and void.

He found his hand sliding under her skirts, grazing past her stockings, over her garters, along the velvet skin of her inner thighs until finally he brushed a languid finger between her legs, the material of her undergarments nothing more than a inconvenience to him as he moved it aside impatiently, eliciting a low gasp from his lover.

She arched towards him as he found her centre, drawing agonisingly slow circles against her as she gripped his hair tightly, her breathing ragged against his cheek. He could hardly see her through the darkness of the evening as it shrouded the car, but he could just make out her eyes crazed with uninhibited desire as she battled with his belt buckle.

His heart thundered against his rib cage as she began to shudder in his arms, a ragged 'I love you' tumbling from her lips as she managed to free him from his trousers. It wasn't until she took him in her hand, her warm, silken grip threatening to be his undoing, that he instinctively grabbed her wrist to still her movements.

Her gasps halted abruptly and the silence was deafening before she let out a frustrated cry and left his lap, returning to the passenger seat in a flurry of skirts and anger.

"Darling.." He choked, attempting to catch his breath.

"No!" She snapped, staring out of the passenger window into the darkness, "I may.. I may never see you again! And you won't even let me touch you!"

"You don't think I want you to?!" He cried, incredulous, "I want you so badly I can hardly stand it!" He grabbed her hand in his frustration and pressed her palm angrily into his lap so she could feel what she had done to him, "this is how desperately I need you!" He cried, his words reaching through her ears and straight to a place made of fire deep in her gut.

"But we're in the drivers seat of a car on a country lane for Christ sake, on the way to the abbey I might add!" He retorted, giving her hand back, "I dread to think what the Reverend Mother would say if she knew I'd taken your virtue half clothed, unmarried and up against the steering wheel on the journey over!"

The silence was palpable while the blood pounded in his ears, a scowl etching into his features.

"And don't say things like that," he snapped, "that we might not see each other again."

"Well it's true!" She cried, whipping round to face him, tears pooling in her eyes, "I know I agreed to the Reverend Mother's plan but that doesn't mean I'm not terrified Georg! I love you and the thought of -"

"Stop," he whispered firmly, taking her shaking hands in his tightly, and pressing them to his lips, "stop this. We will absolutely see each other again, I swear to you that you'll be in my arms in a matter of days, and I will show you all the ways I want to love you. It'll be all I can think about to get me through."

He kissed her hard, desperately, an unspoken promise that he meant every word, and when her tears began to fall he kissed them away from her cheeks, whispering words of adoration. He held her gently, cradled her in his arms until the tears no longer flowed and she gently pulled away from his embrace.

"I suppose we'd better go," Maria whispered, placing a warm palm against his cheek. He nodded, kissing the caressing hand.

"I love you," he murmured into the darkness, "it will all be okay, I promise you." She nodded before he turned back to the steering wheel and revved the car into gear.

The Reverend Mother paced nervously up and down the length of her office. Maria was late. It hardly surprised her but, given the circumstances, the young woman's tardiness left a bad taste in the nun's mouth. There was no reason that anyone would follow her here, or even suspect anything out of the ordinary, but if the Nazis had eyes on the Captain they'd be aware of her imminent return to the abbey. And with that knowledge came the possibility of danger.

Suddenly the front bell rang shrilly through the walls of the abbey and the elderly woman almost dashed down the corridor, finally reaching the gate and ushering a crestfallen Maria through the entranceway. Captain von Trapp stepped over the threshold after her, clutching her hand as though unable to let go.

"Maria, thank goodness," the Reverend Mother sighed with relief, "did you face trouble along the way?"

"No, no everything is fine Mother," Maria replied, breathlessly, "there was no trouble."

"Good," the elderly woman replied, "I was concerned, Herr Detweiller informed me you'd left an hour ago."

Georg made a disapproving noise somewhere between a scoff and a splutter at the mention of Max's name. The elderly nun chose to ignore it.

"I'm afraid you can't stay long Captain," she turned to Georg who instinctively pulled Maria a little closer, "it'll only look suspicious."

He gave a tight nod but still didn't let go of Maria's hand and the two women shared a knowing look.

"I'll give you five minutes," the Mother Abbess said, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

As she began to step away Georg called after her, finding his manners. She turned to face him patiently.

"Thank you," he murmured, "for everything you're doing to protect my family."

She gave a weary smile of understanding and bowed her head before leaving them alone.

When the Reverend Mother had retreated, Maria wrapped her arms around Georg's neck in a tight embrace, hugging him closely to her, "I'll be safe here," she whispered into the shell of his ear, resisting the urge to take the lobe between her teeth, "and the children will be too."

She pulled back to look into his eyes and he nodded unhappily before placing a chaste kiss against her lips.

"Franz will bring them here tomorrow," he replied, pulling her more tightly against him, "they won't have many belongings with them. You'll need to explain everything to them when they get here. I would tell them tonight but I don't want to alarm them or give the little ones reason to panic."

"I understand," she whispered against his lips, "and I'll see you in Switzerland in forty eight hours?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt my love."

Georg paced relentlessly in his study dressed in his travel attire as Max watched him in silence from the corner of the room. Franz had taken the children to the abbey an hour ago and had now returned - he hadn't asked questions and Georg hadn't given anything other than minimal instructions to follow. He had tried his best to give each of the children a normal goodbye, a quick hug as though he would see them later that same day. Except of course he wouldn't. And so he'd hugged them all that bit tighter, watching as they shared confused looks as to why he was acting so peculiarly. It was only Leisl who met his gaze with a knowing look as though she saw right through him and it had startled him how much she had looked like her mother in those moments.

"For goodness sake Georg you'll wear a hole in the carpet," Max exclaimed, pouring a generous whiskey and handing it to his restless friend.

"Forgive me if I seem a little on edge Max," Georg retorted sarcastically, knocking the liquid back, pulling on his jacket and tossing Max his own.

"Everything's gone smoothly so far, the children are safe with Maria at the abbey and we'll be out of the country by midnight," Max replied casually, as though running through the agenda for an evening rendez vous, "and I received some news earlier today that I think will please you immensely.."

Georg raised his eyebrows in question and Max looked positively gleeful, "Zeller has been taken into custody."

The slightest smile tugged at Georg's lips, "and how do you know that?"

"I make it my business to know everything about everyone," Max mimicked the Nazi rat's previous words with a wicked grin and Georg snickered despite himself. If there was one silver lining to this entire mess it was the knowledge that Wolfgang Zeller would spend at least some time behind bars panicking about what was to become of him.

"What time is it?" He asked, resuming his pacing.

"It's ten minutes later than the last time you asked," Max rolled his eyes but straightened a little in his chair when his friend fixed him with a look that could kill a man at ten paces.

"It's seven fifteen Georg, the sun is setting already so we can leave at eight o'clock, as discussed."

Georg nodded curtly and went into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a box of matches. He struck one alight and threw it into the fireplace where piles of papers and documentation were bundled together for burning.

"Is that the last of it?" Max asked.

"Yes," Georg stated, "they won't be able to trace me or get at my money.. Or Agathe's."

"Good."

"Do you have everything?"

"The clothes on my back, my wallet. My passport. What else do refugees need?" Max quipped, draining his glass.

"Refugees.." Georg muttered bitterly, shaking his head as he watched the flames engulf the documents. He was being driven from his home by a crazed Nazi bastard who would most likely make it his life's ambition to watch the world burn. It made the bile rise in his throat.

Without warning, the sound of the doorbell reverberated around the villa and the two men jumped in alarm, fixing each other with a panicked stare.

"Expecting company?" Max hissed as they jumped into action, Georg stamping out the fire with a booted foot and snatching the car keys from their place atop the desk.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Georg retorted uncertainly, more to convince himself than anyone else.

But the reassurance behind his words fell flat when whoever stood on the other side of the front door grew impatient and proceeded to hammer their fist aggressively against the heavy wood.

"Open this door!" A vicious voice bellowed, followed rapidly by something heavy smashing against the wood with a single sickening thud.

The two men moved from the study cautiously to find a flustered Frau Schmidt hurrying towards the door.

"Slowly! Slowly.." Georg warned the housekeeper who reduced her pace, giving the men time to slip round the corner of the corridor that led to the kitchens. They pressed themselves against the wall in the shadows, and Georg was immediately grateful that he had a housekeeper he could entrust with his family's secret. She would take it to her grave, he knew.

They held their breaths as they heard the snick of the lock and Frau Schmidt's polite 'good evening' as she opened the door to their unwelcome visitor.

"Move aside woman!" The same voice barked, followed by the sound of several pairs of booted feet marching across the threshold, clicking intimidatingly against the marble floor. Georg's chest tightened with unrelenting dread as the image of Nazi soldiers entering his home came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He met Max's anxious gaze, his worries confirmed as he saw the same panic reflected back at him in his friend's eyes.

"Where is he!" The voice of the Nazi officer bellowed, as Georg heard the sound of various doors being opened and closed, the blood boiling in his veins as he listened helplessly to the soldiers searching his home.

He felt Max's hand grip at his shoulder and he turned to face him as his friend wordlessly gestured with his head for them to retreat further down the corridor towards the kitchens in hiding.

They managed to slip into the kitchens unseen and Georg locked the door behind him silently before rounding on Max.

"Why are they here!" He whisper-shouted, looking around frantically for an escape route. It was only a matter of time before the soldiers would reach the kitchen and the two men had stupidly barricaded themselves in.

"How the hell should I know!" Max hissed, following Georg around the room as he attempted to find another way out.

"Well as far as they're aware I've accepted my post, so why have they come to arrest me! Who have you told!" He jabbed an index finger into Max's chest before resuming his escape search.

"Maybe you should turn that finger around and ask yourself who amongst your household you can really trust!" Max whispered bitterly, the sound of the search party getting dangerously closer.

Georg halted in his tracks as Max's words sunk in.

"Franz.." He murmured, the word barely audible on his lips. What had the butler seen or heard that he'd then passed to the Nazis? Did he know about Maria's planned departure with his children? Did he know where they were headed? It made him feel dizzy with dread.

The sound of voices and footsteps drawing dangerously close to the door pulled him from his reverie.

Hurriedly pulling himself up onto the work surface, he stood and reached up to the small rectangular window above the sink. It was lengthy enough for them to pull themselves through but it was rather narrow and locked, a key nowhere to be seen.

"Hand me that rolling pin," he instructed to Max who acquiesced, "I'm going to break the window but it's going to draw attention to us so we need to be quick - get up here."

Max obeyed and watched anxiously as his friend smashed the rolling pin against the glass, breaking it with a sickening shatter. Immediately shouts were heard and thundering footsteps echoed down the hallway outside before the door handled rattled aggressively, causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest.

"The game's up von Trapp!" The officer shouted, "don't do anything rash."

Hurriedly Georg hauled Max forward and gave him a leg up, shoving him through the tight gap, being careful not to catch him with the broken glass.

A deep thud of metal, most likely the butt of a gun, was heard thudding against the door as the soldiers tried to force entry. Adrenaline coursed through Georg's veins as his body engaged fight or flight.

Max had dropped down out of sight and Georg scrambled to join him, narrowly avoiding a stray shard of glass that stuck out jaggedly from the frame near his eye.

"Enough of this nonsense!" He heard the officer bellow behind him, "move aside!" A deafening gunshot was fired against the lock on the kitchen door, blowing through the wood and splintering it from its hinges effortlessly. Soldiers swarmed the room and Georg felt a rough hand grab at his ankle as the officer shouted orders repeatedly about wanting him alive. He kicked with all his might, freeing himself of their clutching hands before falling the short distance to the ground beside Max with a thud.

"After him! Outside now! That's an order!" The officer's shouts could be heard through the broken window.

Max hauled his friend to his feet hurriedly as their chests heaved.

"Come on," Georg spluttered, "we haven't got much time. The car is just around corner!"

"It's no use Georg," Max grasped him by the shoulders, shaking his head gravely, "the soldiers are everywhere."

"We have to try! We have to -" Georg cried, beside himself with anguish.

"Listen to me!" Max gripped him tighter, shoving something into his hand. Georg looked down to see a set of keys in his palm, "they're the keys to Franz's truck," Max explained hurriedly, as Georg's confused scowl deepened, "I grabbed them from the hook in the kitchen when I was getting the rolling pin."

Georg eyed him as though he were mad, the panic rising in his chest.

"They don't know I'm with you," Max continued, "Give me your car keys and I'll divert the soldiers. They'll follow your car thinking you're the one driving it. You can take Franz's vehicle and head for the border," he held out his hand expectantly for the keys.

"You're insane," Georg spluttered, "absolutely not. I won't leave you!"

"As much as I will miss arguing with you day in day out my friend, there's really no time right now," Max smiled sadly, "if you don't give me your keys they'll arrest us both and it will be years before you see Maria or your children again - if at all."

Georg felt his chest entirely constrict as the gravity of his friend's words washed over him. As much as they irritated each other, as much as they struggled to see eye to eye at times, Max had been his anchor in some of the most wonderful and some of the darkest moments of his life. He had been the one to encourage Georg to court Agathe. He'd been best man at their wedding. He'd been named godfather to each of Georg's children. He'd wrenched the empty whiskey bottles from Georg's grip when he'd drink himself into oblivion over Agathe's death. And now he was willing to put himself in danger, to sacrifice his own freedom for the sake of Georg's family. The realisation evoked such a rush of love for the man in front of him that he suddenly couldn't breathe. They were family, they were brothers.

"They'll catch up with you and arrest you when they realise your involvement.. I can't leave you.." He grasped the wall for support, his eyes darkening with sorrow, "I can't.."

"For your children Georg," Max replied, fixing his friend with a determined stare and gripping his shoulders again, trying to shake some sense into him, "you can do it for your children. You and Maria are all they have now. No one will miss uncle Max."

"I'll miss you!" Georg retorted, desperately, "we all will! Who's going to bleed me dry!"

"You'll have nothing for me to exploit, you're a refugee remember?" Max grinned.

Shouts were heard close by as the soldiers neared the side of the villa and Georg knew he didn't have much time left. Reluctantly he handed Max his keys and pulled the man into a fierce hug, thumping his hand against his back, words failing him as he choked back the tears of anger and despair that threatened to fall when he realised he might never see his friend again. His throat closed at the terrifying thought, and he pulled back wordlessly, gripping Max's head in his hands.

"Try and find us, brother," he whispered.

"One day," Max nodded, smiling sadly, "one day..."

It wasn't until Georg was racing down the road in Franz's truck - away from his pursuers, away from his home, away from his friend - that he finally allowed the tears of hopelessness to fall.