A/N: I wanted to give you a quick update, so here it is. I warn you, it's not a happy one and things are pretty bleak but it won't be so sad forever. Please do review, as always your thoughts mean everything!
The silence in the car was deafening, the low hum of the engine and the heavy hammering of rain against the windows doing nothing to alleviate the unbearable tension in the air. Grief seemed to seep into every corner of the plush leather seats, Johannes' tiny mewls almost going unnoticed amidst the backdrop of darkness that seemed to hang over the vehicle like a suffocating cloak of despair.
Max cleared his throat as he shifted his hands on the steering wheel, opening his mouth as if to speak. But he abruptly closed it again and instead focused on the road in front of him, as though unable to find words that did justice to the horrors they'd just witnessed.
Georg hadn't spoken a word since they'd spotted him running from the burning west wing building a mere hour ago. Alone. They'd been sitting restlessly in the car and Max's fingertips had been drumming against the steering wheel agitatedly as he prepared the key in the ignition, weary of his promise to get Maria and Johannes to safety. But Maria had pleaded with him to have faith, to wait just a few moments longer before honouring his word.
The minutes had ticked by unbearably and, just as Max had decided to turn over the engine with a growl of reluctance, Maria had given a scream of protest that had rooted him to his seat, and he'd looked up to discover the sight of his friend dashing from the plumes of smoke that engulfed the building in front of them. The next thing Max had known, a bruised and panic stricken Georg had hurled himself into the back seat and bellowed at the top of his lungs for Max to drive.
"But what about Rob-"
"I said GO! NOW!" Georg had shouted with so much force that the wheels had spun against the gravel in Max's haste to obey orders. Within seconds they'd been hurtling down the country roads, the crumbling base and the roar of the Luftwaffe engines lost to the distance stretching out behind them.
And not a word had been uttered since, the air thick and heavy with the implications of Robert's absence, the restless quiet almost worse than the deafening blasts they'd endured. Maria's head spun with unanswered questions, questions that she couldn't bring herself to ask for fear of what the answers might be, for fear of how Georg might react.
She risked a sideways glance in her husband's direction and her heart broke for him as she studied his appearance. He was sat with his back to her, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he stared blankly out the window, worrying his lower lip between his fingertips with one hand while the other lay clenched, tight as a rock in his lap. His entire body with rigid with anguish, his clothes torn and caked with dust that coated him from head to toe. She could just make out his side profile, parts of his face cast in shadow - from the storm raging outside the window, or from the storm raging within - she wasn't sure.
Much to her dismay, she watched as a single tear ghosted a path down his cheek, glistening solemnly in the fleeting headlamps of the odd vehicle that drove past them, battling against the dimness of the morning storm. What had happened back at the base? What had Georg seen that he couldn't bring himself to explain? He looked more lost than she'd ever seen him, as broken as when she'd discovered him crouched in a heap against the side of the road in Davos. She wanted desperately to reach out to him, to grip his clenched fist, to stroke the tension out of his knuckles and cradle his hand in hers. She wanted to sooth his bruised soul somehow, to show him that she was there. But for the first time in their marriage, she felt utterly hopeless in bringing him comfort. What could she possibly say or do to ease this man's unimaginable suffering?
The guilt he must've felt, the shame he'd be torturing himself with for leaving his comrades - some of them mere boys - behind. A captain always went down with his ship, Georg had once told her. And while he hadn't been in any real position of power at the base - he was there only to help build Sea Devil after all - he'd still felt a level of responsibility in keeping the crew safe. At it was, his ship and his comrades were still very much under attack, while he fled in the luxury of a new model convertible.
She wanted to hold him in her arms and reassure him in hushed whispers that he'd had no choice, that once again he'd found himself hopelessly pinned between his duty to his post and his duty to his family, the lines blurring so messily that he hadn't stood a chance. If he'd stayed he would've risked the life of his baby boy. But she knew that he'd never forgive himself for fleeing while other men suffered in the wake of his negligence.
And what of Robert? If he were here, he'd have insisted that Georg did the right thing. That sometimes terrible sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Robert would have reassured him that staying at the base would've made very little difference - after all, Georg was only one man - a man who was far more valuable to the cause alive than dead. But Robert wasn't here to offer such fatherly advice, to soothe the guilt in Georg's heart. And she knew, deep down, from the way her husband's jaw was set heavily in turmoil, from the way his eyes churned with misery in the window's reflection, that Robert would never offer such comfort again.
Maria was no stranger to loss and grief, but she couldn't quite imagine what it must feel like for such a strong and stirring man to lose both a wife and a father in law, while being entirely powerless to stop it. It seemed he'd only just learnt to recover from the loss of his first love, and yet he'd been confronted immediately afterwards by the loss of his country, his home, his memories and now the closest person to a father he'd had since his own parents' passing.
Despite her better judgement, she found herself reaching across the seat and gripping his hand in hers silently. His fingers were ice cold and he didn't move, didn't turn to face her, as though he couldn't bare to look into her saddened eyes for fear he'd have to confirm what he already knew to be true.
Fearing her touch was unwanted, she made to withdraw her hand, but suddenly his fingers tightened around hers and he gripped her desperately as his whole body began to tremble, his eyes never moving from the window as silent, angry tears continued to fall one after the other. And that's when she realised that no words needed to be said. It was clear in the way he clung to her, in the way his body shook with distress, in the way his tears fell in tandem with the rain outside.
And she felt the wave of grief faster than she could make sense of it, her free arm tightening around Johannes in a fierce display of protection as she mourned for the loss of the baby boy's grandfather, the loss of Margaret's husband, the loss of Georg's confidante, and the loss of a man who'd become a dear friend to her ever since the moment she'd first heard his booming laughter and been wrapped in his warm, welcoming embrace.
When the car finally ambled to a halt outside the Whitehead's country home, Max killed the engine and the resulting stillness seemed to reverberate off the seats as the three passengers sat in silence, hardly daring to move. Moving would mean having to confront what had happened, having to explain to Margaret and the children what they'd witnessed. Moving would mean having to accept that Robert hadn't made it back with them. They seemed to share a wordless agreement that just a few more minutes of silence, of solitude, were needed before the chaos ensued.
The stillness was suddenly interrupted when Max threw open the driver's door, climbed out of the car and paced in front of the bonnet before bringing his fists down against the metal in an uncharacteristic display of rage and despair, a twisted curse tearing from his lungs. The noise caused Johannes to wail hopelessly and Maria hushed him into her breast, her heart pounding, but still Georg remained motionless, his face an unreadable mask as he stared unblinking out the window. It was as though he were suspended in time and space, as though he were still back in Hampshire, watching whatever horrors he'd witnessed as they played out in his mind's eye.
"Georg..." she murmured, her voice low against the lump in her throat as she gave his hand a light squeeze, "is Robert-"
"Gone," Georg breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his breathe steaming the window, "he's gone."
There it was, her fears confirmed. Another devastating loss for a family who'd already endured so much. The children would be heartbroken. Not to mention the fact that little Thomas and Lucy were still oblivious to their parents' deaths. And Margaret? Maria couldn't even begin to imagine the heartache the baroness would feel when they broke the news to her. But sitting in the car was only going to delay the inevitable, was only going to make the truth all the more difficult to come to terms with. Georg was inconsolable, she realised, and he simply didn't have the fight left in him to face the next few hours alone. It would be up to her, she knew, to support him through it, to be the bulwark he so desperately needed - her stoic, complicated, vulnerable captain.
Wordlessly, she let go of his hand and traced the lines of his jaw with her fingertips, gripping his chin and turning him to face her for the first time since they left Hampshire. When his eyes met hers, she felt her heart sink at the sight of the tears still pooling there, his brow furrowed in sadness and his irises darkened with sorrow. She held his cheek in her palm, willing him to understand that he was blameless in this mess and that she would be by his side, for as long as he needed her.
"Come.." she whispered, leaning towards him and pressing a kiss to his lips, "we will face this together."
He nodded wordlessly, choking out a barely audible 'thank you', before closing his eyes in anguish and pressing a kiss to Johannes head, breathing in the calming scent of his son. Gathering his composure, he gave a tight nod before they joined Max on the gravel and made their way to the house, where the children would no doubt be eating breakfast by now, entirely unaware that they had lost one family member and gained another.
When Margaret heard the snick of the front door being opened, she felt her fork slip from her fingers, jumping as it clinked loudly against the china. She looked up to discover all nine pairs of young eyes around the table suddenly falling on her and she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat under their scrutiny.
Hurriedly regaining her composure, she cleared her throat apprehensively, "get back to your eggs children," she instructed, pushing her chair back gently, despite her desperation to break into a run towards the hallway, "I'll be back momentarily."
And with that, she dashed from the room, hoping against hope that her assumptions about the source of the sound had been correct. Much to her delight, she rounded the corner and discovered exactly who she'd been hoping to see standing in the doorway. Her eyes immediately fell to the tiny bundle in Maria's arms, and her overwhelming excitement left her entirely oblivious to Georg's bizarre appearance and the grave looks upon her guests' faces.
"Oh my goodness," she cooed, her palms pressed to her cheeks as her eyes lit up with joy, "is this him? Is this little Johannes?"
Before Maria had a chance to respond, Margaret was by her side, reaching out for the boy as her eyes danced with adoration, "may I?" She asked hopefully, a genuine smile breaking across her features.
Unable to bear the woman's happiness in light of what she knew, Maria cast her eyes to the floor and handed Johannes over while Margaret gushed over her grandson for the very first time.
"Oh he's positively beautiful Maria.." she breathed, her gleaming eyes lifting to grin at her audience. It was then that she noticed Georg's disheveled appearance and the smile immediately fell from her face, replaced instead by a confused frown marring her features.
"Georg?.. what on earth?" She eyed the group in bafflement and carefully handed Johannes back to Maria, but much to her confusion nobody would meet her eye. Maria felt her heart begin to pound with unrelenting dread as she watched Margaret's face etch with sudden worry.
"Where's Robert?"
The silence was palpable.
"Where's Robert, Georg!" The rising panic in the baroness' voice made the hairs on the back of Maria's neck stand on end and she watched in dismay as the elderly woman rounded on Georg, shoving her frail fists against his chest to illicit some kind of reaction that would confirm or deny her fears. But still Georg couldn't meet her eye.
"Answer me!" She shouted, her voice breaking as she pushed him again, "tell me!"
Without warning, his bloodshot eyes suddenly locked with hers in unspoken affirmation and Margaret froze, her arms falling limp at her sides as the colour drained from her face.
"No.." she choked swaying dangerously on the spot and clutching at Max's shoulder in her desperation when the impresario came to her rescue, "It can't be.."
"I'm so sorry," Georg rasped, and even in his devastation, Maria could see he was wrought with unfounded guilt.
The strangled sob that wracked Margaret's body as she collapsed against Max sent a sinister chill down Maria's spine. It was as though the news had torn the very life from her.
"Take her to the study," Georg commanded, his voice surprisingly strong despite the circumstances, "the children can't be witness to this."
He turned to Maria as Max led Margaret away, his jaw set and his face stern, "I need to calm her, explain everything.. before we talk to the children. I don't want them to know we're here just yet."
She nodded wordlessly, despite her desperation to see their brood. She'd missed them terribly but she knew that timing would be everything when it came to handling the situation with care. She still had no idea what had happened back at the base but she understood that Georg would tell her in his own time. Margaret however, was owed an immediate explanation.
"I'll wait in our room and we'll greet the children together."
"I want the first time they meet their brother to be a happy one," Georg murmured, "we'll break the awful news to them later. They can't know this just yet.."
Again she nodded her agreement, pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead before voicing what had been playing on her mind since they'd left Hampshire, "Margaret ought to come with us, Georg.. to America. We can't leave her.."
"I plan to ask her exactly that," he confirmed, "but only if you're in agreement with me."
He didn't need to explain that he regretted ever having made any important decisions without her. She knew, from the look in his eye, that he'd never hide his plans from her again.
"Of course," she whispered, her eyes glazing with unshed tears, "she's part of the family."
Georg tried his best to hold it together as he made his way to Robert's study, knowing that he would have to somehow assign words to the unspeakable things he'd seen. He felt his chest restrict once again at the thought of having to look Margaret in the eye and explain to her that he'd failed to save her husband. Just like he'd failed to save her daughter..
When Agathe had fallen ill, he'd employed the best doctors money could buy, considered every medicine that might bring her back to health, and spent morning, noon and night by her side - feeding her, bathing her, soothing her as she fell into fitful sleep wrought with high fevers and nightmares. But none of it had ever been enough. She'd slipped through his fingers like quicksand one fateful night almost five years ago, and had taken her last breath while clutched against his chest as her beautiful blonde hair collected the tears that streamed from his face.
And now he'd been unable to save her father.. his father. For that's exactly what Robert had become to him, a father in his own right. The baron had welcomed Georg back into his home with open arms as though the four years of unanswered telegrams had never happened. He'd welcomed Maria to the family, he'd given Georg a navy again, a true sense of purpose in light of the war, he'd gathered baby Johannes into his arms as though he were his own flesh and blood. Georg had tried. He'd tried so hard to bring him home. But again, it hadn't been enough.
He found Margaret slumped in a chair by the fireplace, her hands gripped in Max's as the impresario attempted to soothe her sorrow. Gone were the erratic sobs from the hallway, replaced instead by an icy composure that hid her turmoil well - a technique no doubt learned during her aristocratic upbringing. It unsettled Georg far more than he'd expected. He rather wished she'd go back to beating her fists against his chest - at least then she'd shown signs of life, of having some fight left in her. Now all he saw was a broken woman.
"Margaret.." he murmured from the doorway, as two pairs of weary eyes fell on him, "I really am so sorry..."
Max patted Margaret's hand and stood, "I'll give you both a moment," before slipping from the room, giving Georg a woeful smile and a squeeze of the arm.
"Thank you my friend," Georg murmured as he passed, "for everything you've done.."
Max waved his gratitude away with a flick of his hand, "call it about even old man," and with that, he slipped from the room, leaving a terrible silence in his wake. Eventually, Georg closed the door and made his way to Max's vacated seat, reaching for Margaret's hands himself. Before he'd barely had a chance to grip them in his, she opened her mouth to speak, though her eyes remained glued to the floor.
"How did it happen, Georg?" her voice was hoarse, so alien to him, and it chilled him to his core.
"The Luftwaffe attacked," he rasped, "we think they intercepted Maria's telegram and discovered I was there. It's all my fault-"
"Don't." She snapped with sudden vigour, taking him by surprise, "don't say another word like that. Robert would argue the exact opposite and you know it. I know you Georg, I've known you for twenty years. You tried to save him. Didn't you."
Georg could only nod wordlessly as the all too familiar lump formed in his throat again, "but if I'd never accepted the post-"
"Then the Luftwaffe would've attacked anyway and the Royal Navy would be without HMS Sea Devil," she interrupted sharply, "no more of this Georg. Robert would have boxed you round the ears for such self pity."
She was right of course. Here he was, wallowing in self-blame while his mother in law was grieving for the loss of her husband. Robert was gone, and all Georg could do now was ensure the safety of his family. He had to keep moving, had to keep fighting. Because - just as with Agathe, and just as with Robert - he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't try everything in his power to protect them.
"If there's anything I can do.." he felt stupid saying such cliched words, but what else was there to say? He was powerless, completely helpless in fixing such a godawful mess.
"You can take this horrible thing and use it to give you the strength to carry on," she whispered, "for your family. He'd have wanted us to fight more now than ever before."
It was as though she'd taken the thoughts right out of his head. And he found himself suddenly in awe of this woman, this baroness who had once treated him with contempt and disapproval, this mother and wife who had lost more loved ones than anyone should ever have to endure, this woman who was experiencing the depths of despair - this woman was comforting him, was willing him to find the strength to go on, was urging him to never lose hope.
"We can't stay here," was all he could manage by way of reply, "I suspect they must know where the telegram came from.."
She nodded resolutely and pulled herself out of her chair with difficulty, making her way towards the window where she stared out into the meadow surrounding the house, "There's a property in Chester," she said gravely, her shoulders tense, "it was abandoned when our friends fled from the Blitz a few months ago."
"The Earl?" Georg asked, "the house for his mistress?"
"Yes," she turned to face him with a frown, "How did you know?"
"Robert told me..."
She seemed to blanch at the sound of her husband's name and Georg understood all too well the pain she must've been feeling. He remembered how he himself hadn't been able to hear Agathe's name for four years after her death without feeling entirely hollow.
"Once Johnston and his wife left the country, the Earl told Robert we were welcome to use that house as an escape if London ever became too unsafe. We never needed to use it, since we had this place," she gestured to the walls surrounding them, "but now I think his offer will come in handy after all."
A fleeting sense of relief washed over Georg as a logistical problem he'd foreseen slowly ebbed away. They had a safe location they could run to, thank God. Did Robert have this in mind when he'd told Georg the story of the Earl and his mistress? Had he known they might need to flee?
"We should waste no time," he explained, standing to join her by the window, his hands clasped behind his back and he watched the lambs dance in the meadow before them, oblivious to the pain of their onlookers, "we should leave for Chester in a few hours. We'll break the news to the children once we get there. And we'll tell Lucy and Thomas about their parents too."
He watched as Margaret flinched against his words once again - she must've momentarily forgotten about that particular heartache and he inwardly chastised himself for reminding her. Still he pushed on.
"From there, I'll get my affairs in order before we head to the port in Liverpool and leave for America. All of us. Together. As a family."
She spun to face him then, her eyes wide and guileless, so different from the aristocratic mask he often saw her wear - the mask he himself had once been so familiar with. He realised, as he watched her struggle to find words, that he was seeing her at her most vulnerable for the very first time. Gone was the firm exterior and here stood a woman who felt broken, frightened, and utterly alone.
"I'll be sure to take care of you for the rest of your days, Margaret," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, "I can promise you that," and he meant every word as he opened his arms to her, hoping she'd let him be the support she so desperately needed.
His mother in law had been right, all those months ago, when she'd said losing a daughter could change a woman. And it seemed that losing a husband could do the very same, for the elderly baroness suddenly fell into her son in law's open arms with a cry of utter relief, allowing him to cradle her into his chest as the strangled sobs tore from her throat and she permitted herself to express her grief at last.
A/N: please bear with me, things will get better!