A/N: again thank you for the amazing reviews, I'm ever so grateful. I keep meaning to bring this story towards its end but it is taking more chapters than expected so thanks so much for sticking with me!

The night had been a difficult one as they counted down the minutes until morning, staring at the ceiling, fingers entwined, feeling as though they were holding their breaths and startling at every noise as though it were another shell blasting into the city streets. They had been entirely exhausted, but Georg simply couldn't rest until they were out of the capital city and safely nestled in Northampton where the threat on his family wouldn't be so great. Like every other step in this godforsaken journey, all they had to do was get to the next pitstop, the next juncture - Whatever happened after that, they would have to worry about when they got there. It was the only way to ensure they had the strength to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

After they'd put the children to bed and bid goodnight to Baroness Whitehead, they'd made their way to one of the many guest bedrooms and sunk onto the edge of the bed with heavy sighs and slumped shoulders, the only light emitted by a single candle that Georg had lit. A weary silence had hung between them then, the flicker of the candle dancing across Georg's grave features, highlighting the square of his jaw, the worry lines creasing his face, the darkness lingering in his irises. It was startling really, Maria had thought as she'd studied him, how quickly her stoic captain could flit from playful and joyous to troubled and vulnerable.

"Is this...?" She had whispered compassionately, breaking the silence and looking around the room apprehensively, but he'd cut her off with a slight shake of his head.

"No," he'd murmured wistfully, "no, she and I used to stay in one of the other guest bedrooms down the hall. I couldn't.. I can't.." He'd become suddenly agitated and Maria had turned to him in comfort, stroking the stray hairs from his furrowed brow and kissing the ridges etched there.

"Shhh my darling, shhh," she'd soothed against his skin, watching him as he'd closed his eyes in relief against her ministrations, "there's absolutely no need to explain, love. This was her home, the memories here.. they must be rife. And difficult.. And you've been through so much -"

She'd fallen immediately silent when he'd suddenly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against him and burrowing his face in her bosom. In any other circumstance, his response would have led her to believe he was desperately in need of her body again, in need of the physical and sexual relief he so often sought from her. In this particular circumstance however, she'd known without a word uttered between them that he would not ask such a thing of her. And she would certainly never offer it. Not here. Not where the memories of his first wife were so raw and so real.

Instead, it had turned out, much to Maria's sorrow, that her so often resilient and unbreakable captain was in need only of comfort. A similar sort of comfort to that which a vulnerable boy might need from a mother. And she had acquiesced willingly, cradling his head against her chest and rocking him gently as silent tears had rolled down his cheeks.

He'd clung to her unashamedly, allowing the emotion to expel from his body until the tears had eventually stopped falling and his breathing had steadied against her chest. She'd taken his face in her hands and lifted it to her own then, kissing away the water stains and whispering words of reassurance against his flushed skin.

"How I love you," he'd choked, with so much feeling that she'd felt her heart still.

"Oh Georg," she'd sighed, her eyes glazing with her own tears as she leant her forehead against his, "I hate to see you suffer so."

The words were barely out of her mouth before he'd shaken his head in protest, gripping her hands in his with determination, "for once, these aren't tears of sorrow darling but tears of joy," he'd murmured through a watery smile, "Listening to Margaret's story and watching the children.. They were just so happy. I was entirely prepared to feel utterly miserable upon hearing it, but for the first time in four years, I suddenly found myself filled with gladness," his eyes had shone with hope as they'd burned into her own, "Gladness that I was lucky enough to share those memories with her. Gladness that I have finally found the strength to look back fondly. And gladness that I have met you."

She'd opened her mouth to tell him that it was she who was the blessed one, that it was she who'd found a life in him, that it was she who'd discovered her very purpose in what they shared - but he'd silenced her with an unexpected and languid kiss - a gesture not of lust, not of desire, not of need, but of adoration and fervent awe. He'd only broken away reluctantly when she was entirely breathless, determined not to let her gentle sighs distract him from the purpose of his speech.

"Yes, it will hurt at times," he'd continued, stroking his fingers down her silken cheek, "and I'm often sad for what once was. That's unlikely to ever truly go away - loss is a complex burden. But for the first time in four years, I find myself utterly content with my lot. I find myself hopelessly in love once more. And I can hardly believe it. The realisation is entirely overwhelming and yet an utter relief all at once."

"Hence the sudden tears.." She'd replied and he'd nodded in affirmation.

"I'm sorry," he'd said gravely after long seconds in which they simply held each other, "for doing this to you."

She'd gripped his face in her hands once more and eyed him with a fiery determination, "never, ever apologise for sharing these things with me. I wouldn't change it for the world, Georg. In fact, one day I hope to hear many more stories like the one Baroness Whitehead shared today."

"You do?" Georg had appeared positively astonished.

"Of course!" She'd exclaimed, "She was the mother to those seven wonderful children I've come to love, she was the very first woman to win your heart. Quite honestly, I'm rather fascinated."

He'd said nothing then, rendered speechless, fixing her only with a grateful smile for the undeniable support she'd offered, not just that night but ever since the day he'd met her - even when he'd been too stubborn to realise it.

Later, when they'd been lying awake restlessly in the darkness for hours with only the faint sound of unrest humming through the night air in the distance, Maria had been astonished when Georg had suddenly threaded his fingers through her own and broken the silence with a barely audible whisper, "I remember once, when Leisl had just started to walk.." The silky tendrils of his voice wrapped around her heart and bathed her in warmth, "Agathe and I managed to lose her in the villa for a whole hour...we were beside ourselves with worry..."

And before Maria knew it, Georg was regaling tale after tale of his late wife and his children's younger years, talking animatedly of past memories as though a floodgate had suddenly opened in the deepest recesses of his heart. And Maria had found herself giggling mercilessly along with her husband's deep rumbling laughter at an amusing tidbit, welling up with sadness when he'd quietened at a particularly melancholy anecdote, or gasping in surprise upon hearing a sudden twist in a tale. Time had fallen away as he'd shared a part of himself with her that night, a part that he'd rarely shared with anyone. And it filled her with such overwhelming joy to hear him in his element, the enthusiasm with which he looked back so fondly leaving her breathless with happiness.

After the laughter evoked by the latest anecdote had finally ebbed away and a comfortable silence had replaced the mirth between them, Georg had rolled onto his side to face his wife, cuddling up to her body and encasing her in his arms.

"Thank you, my darling," he'd murmured meaningfully into her hair.

"Whatever for?"

"For helping me to remember."

When daybreak finally came, the cracks of light spilling through the gaps in the boards aligning the windows, Maria had been roused from a disturbed sleep by an equally bleary eyed Georg. Before long, the entire family had piled into the Whitehead's Mercedes with a disgruntled sea captain at the wheel, a fidgeting Gretl plonked in his lap for lack of room in the back seat. The journey to the country home had taken no longer than an hour and Maria was glad to finally be surrounded by rolling hills and countryside, miles of quintessentially English landscape that remained entirely untouched by war. It was just as well that they'd left so abruptly, for they would later hear reports on the BBC of civilian attacks in England's capital as the Luftwaffe turned their animosity towards the city streets - a series of horrifying bomb raids that would later become known as The Blitz.

The country home was slightly smaller than the Whitehead's London manor but there was still ample room for everyone and Georg had to admit to himself that he was a little relieved to be somewhere entirely new and fresh, somewhere free of the constant and sometimes suffocating nostalgia. His contentment soon turned into delight when he discovered that Robert Whitehead was there waiting for them and it was plain for all to see that the elderly baron held no animosity towards his son-in-law for having kept his distance for so long.

"Georg my boy!" the silver haired gentleman's booming voice rung with affection as he clasped his son-in-law by the shoulders, "it's been far too long."

"I'm ashamed to say that's all my own doing," Georg had shrugged sheepishly, but Robert merely brushed his concerns aside with a flippant wave of his hand and demanded, with a jovial smile, to be introduced to the lovely young girl on Georg's arm.

Before long the twelve of them had taken to the drawing room and the three men were huddled in the corner over a table with their heads bowed, clasping tumblers of whiskey in their hands and muttering quietly about what Maria assumed was Robert's dealings with the Royal Navy.

She watched them curiously from her position on the carpet where she and the children were sat in a circle playing cards, wondering what could possibly be so fascinating as to keep the men so thoroughly distracted. But she was soon dragged from her reverie by an impatient tug on her skirt.

"Mother!" Marta's timid voice was uncharacteristically demanding, "mother, who are they?"

Following the young girl's pointing finger with a snap of her head, Maria was greeted by the sight of Baroness Whitehead standing in the doorway with two very little children attempting to hide behind her legs. They couldn't have been much older than Gretl, their ruddy cheeks glowing pink under the scrutiny of eleven pairs of eyes. They wore modest clothes but were freshly washed, their hair still slightly damp and framing their innocent faces.

"Hello," Maria grinned warmly in English at the two evacuees that Baroness Whitehead had told them about, "my name is Maria. What are your names?"

The timid girl fixed her gaze firmly to the floor, her cheeks reddening, while her brother scowled slightly in suspicion.

"This is Lucy and Thomas," Baroness Whitehead declared, gently guiding the two youngsters into the room where they stood apprehensively, wringing their hands in front of them. A somewhat charged silence hung in the room as the little boy and his sister shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Do you want to play with us?" It was Kurt who suddenly broke the tension, beaming broadly and gesturing to the pair with his fistful of cards. His compassion evoked a fierce pride within Maria that left her grinning, and not ten minutes had passed before the two English children were sat amongst the group, laughing and frolicking as innocent children should. It had taken Maria even less time to get Lucy and Thomas on side, and as the afternoon passed into early evening, the two little ones began to cling to her with complete adoration - a gesture that reminded her all too well of another group of children who had once been desperately in need of a mother's love.

Evening fell surprisingly quickly and Maria had every intention of putting the children to bed herself, but nausea was biting at her throat again, leaving her head spinning. She was entirely relieved when a concerned Georg volunteered for the task instead, pushing her gently back into her chair in the drawing room and insisting that he would see to the children. Maria had acquiesced willingly - the fatigue was clearly taking its toll on her body and she was looking forward to an undisturbed night's sleep in the peaceful countryside.

"He's quite a doting husband, is he not?" Baroness Whitehead smiled warmly as Georg left the room, taking an elegant sip of her tea.

"He's wonderful," Maria agreed, allowing the steam from her own cup to caress her face as she held it to her lips, "I'm truly blessed."

"As is he," Baroness Whitehead insisted, and Maria realised she felt entirely at ease when alone with this woman, despite only having met her the previous day. She somehow exuded a motherly air that evoked a deep sense of comfort.

"It's quite clear to see just how much of an impact you've had on his life, my dear. You are a strong woman to say the least."

"I wish I felt strong," Maria scoffed, "right now I feel utterly rotten!"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry," the Baroness chuckled into her tea, "Agathe was exactly the same!"

"How do you mean?" Maria frowned.

The elderly woman gave a soft laugh, as though recalling a fond memory, "Oh she used to suffer from terrible morning sickness at all hours of the day!"

Maria's eyes blew wide and she began choking violently on her tea, her heart ricocheting off her rib cage and jumping into her throat at the Baroness's shocking declaration. But before she'd had a chance to truly descend into panic, the sudden sound of shattering glass was heard in the doorway, causing both women to whirl around in alarm. There in the entrance to the room, looking as though he'd seen a ghost, was Georg, one hand clutched to his chest while the other steadied his shaking body against a dumbstruck Baron Whitehead - a tumbler of amber liquid having smashed to bits at their feet.

Maria gulped.

"You're... You're pregnant?!" Georg rasped, his eyes boring into Maria from across the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his face creased in anguish. It was quite clear he was about to panic enough for the both of them and Maria was desperate to quash the ridiculous notion, to say something that would calm the imminent meltdown. But she could only open and close her mouth repeatedly like a goldfish, rendered entirely speechless by the earth-shattering implications of the Baroness's observation. She felt as though the world was shifting under her feet, as though reality was unraveling around her. It couldn't possibly be true, could it? The baroness was surely mistaken.

The woman in question looked entirely bewildered, her eyes darting from Maria to her son-in-law to her husband and back again in confusion, "neither of you knew?!" She blurted incredulously, completely losing her aristocratic composure.

"What do you mean knew!" Georg cried, running a hand through his disheveled hair and clutching tighter to his increasingly uncomfortable father-in-law for support, "there's nothing to know!"

"There most certainly is," the baroness retorted matter-of-factly.

"Maggie!" Robert warned apprehensively, "what could possibly make you so sure?"

"I can just tell.." Margaret insisted with authority, gesturing at Maria as though she were a sculpture for analysis, "I was right all seven times with Agathe.. I knew before she'd even had a chance to tell me! A mother can tell!"

"My God," Georg exclaimed, recalling all too well the almost spooky intuition with which Margaret had guessed about every single one of Agathe's pregnancies.

"I thought you both knew and were simply waiting for the right moment to inform Robert and I!" Margaret crowed, "I just wanted to give you a little nudge, I had no idea you were oblivious!"

Georg leaned against the wall and sank down onto his haunches, his head buried his hands, "oh god," he groaned again in dismay, feeling the baron's reassuring grip against his shoulder, though he found it brought him very little comfort.

"We still don't know for sure Georg," the older gentleman soothed apprehensively, "this is based on pure assumption."

Maria observed the scene in silence, a gradual anger bubbling at her chest as Georg's head snapped up in hope, "that's right!" He cried, waving an accusatory hand at Margaret, "you could be wrong! Maria may simply be suffering from exhaustion, nothing more!"

"Maria is sat right here!" Maria suddenly snapped from her seat in the corner of the room as the three other occupants immediately fell silent, their heads jerking up to face her for the first time during their exchange, "and she would very much appreciate it if you would all stop discussing her potential pregnancy as though it were the world's greatest burden!"

Georg's heart sunk when he noted the hurt etched across her face, the fear darkening her eyes, and he realised they'd entirely ignored her throughout their panicked conversation, talking about her as though she weren't even there. How could he have been such a boar? He'd been so wrapped up in his own concern that he'd entirely overlooked the overwhelming mixture of feelings emanating from her youthful features. She must've been utterly terrified and he'd been too selfish to even notice. The turmoil in her voice sent an unwanted shiver down his spine.

He watched helplessly, unable to form a worthy sentence as she suddenly hauled herself from her chair. Her chin was pointed in defiance and she didn't utter so much as one word as she flashed her flinching husband a look of pure fire that did nothing to hide the tears welling in her eyes, before she fled from the room, leaving Georg to hang his head in shame.

A/N: oh Georg, you buffoon! Perhaps in the next chapter he can make things right. And hopefully this is good news for those of you who look forward to the steamier scenes!