Something was keeping Maria awake, but she could not place her finger on what it was. It was not the children–they had settled relatively easily hours ago (or at least as easily as they ever did–putting seven children to bed was never an easy feat). The Captain had left on one of his trips a couple days before, telling his family that he would not be back for at least a week, so it was unlikely to be him either. Maria tried to tell herself she just had an overactive imagination, but the feeling simply would not leave her. Just in case something was actually wrong, Maria rose quietly from the bed and tiptoed to the children's rooms, but she did not hear a single sound from behind any of the closed doors. She was ready to give up her concerns as a ridiculous passing fancy when she heard an unexpected noise. However, it did not come from the children's rooms–it came from below.

Somewhat nervous, Maria moved toward the staircase. She briefly wondered if the noise came from Frau Schmidt or Franz, but they should have locked up for the night long before. Biting her lip, she crept closer to the stairs, peering into the darkness of the foyer below. A moving shadow caught her eye, and she turned in that direction, her heart beating wildly. Part of her mind was screaming at her to run and lock herself in her room, for surely someone prowling the estate so late at night did not have good intentions. However, she forced herself to continue, reminding herself that she was responsible for the seven innocent children sleeping peacefully in the rooms behind her.

She caught sight of the person again, but this time, whoever it was stepped further into the dim light cast by the moon through the window, and Maria relaxed slightly as she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Captain von Trapp. Perhaps he had finished his business early. She was glad of that–though she was very happy that he had formed a deeper relationship with his children in the last few months, that relationship meant that they missed him terribly when he needed to leave. They would be ecstatic to have him back in the morning.

Maria was just about to return to bed when she noticed something about the Captain's figure. He was moving strangely, one arm hanging rather oddly beside him. As Maria watched, he stopped, leaning heavily against the wall, and she saw the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. Something was wrong. Maria stepped even closer, beginning to move down the stairs, just as he moved under another shaft of moonlight. She had to bite her lip to stop her gasp when she saw the crimson stain blooming on his white shirt. He wore no jacket, and it took Maria a moment to realize that he had tied it around his upper arm where the stain seemed most concentrated.

It seemed that she did not contain her gasp as well as she thought, for his sharp eyes suddenly snapped up in her direction. Knowing she was caught, Maria stepped further down the staircase. "Fraulein." His voice was low, almost dangerous. Despite the situation, however, Maria did not feel frightened. Though he projected a cold, aloof exterior to most of the world, their late-night talks had helped Maria get to know him much better, and she knew that he was a brave, honorable man. For reasons that Maria still could not fully comprehend, she felt more comfortable with him than she had ever felt with anyone before, even in circumstances such as the present ones.

"You're hurt, Captain," she said matter-of-factly.

"It's none of your concern."

"I don't see anyone else around whose concern it could be," she countered, stepping into the foyer and approaching him. She stopped a few feet from him. From the current distance, she could clearly see the pain etched into his features as well as his face which was much paler than it should be. He appeared to be in imminent danger of collapse.

He scoffed, looking away, protecting himself behind his mask of indifference. "I do not see how you could be of any help."

"I had nearly finished my training as a nurse before I came to Nonnberg Abbey," Maria told him simply. He glanced back at her in shock, and she met his gaze with challenge in her own. For a few seconds, they stared at one another, neither willing to give. His body finally decided for him, slumping sideways against the wall. She rushed forward, catching his good arm before he could fall completely, struggling under his weight. "For one in your life, Captain, could you let someone help you instead of being so ridiculously stubborn all the time?"

She was not sure if it was her words or the pain, but Georg finally nodded in acquiescence. She supported him as best as she could as he half-stumbled into the drawing room and collapsed onto the nearest settee, breathing heavily. Maria let her training take over, quickly untying the jacket and unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his arm so she could assess the wound. He had bandaged it crudely with what looked like a handkerchief and tape, and she removed those carefully. When she saw the wound beneath them, she sucked in a breath. She had seen such a wound once or twice, but it was not something she typically dealt with in the small country clinic where she had trained. "This is a bullet wound," she remarked. He leveled a dark gaze at her, and she told him, "I was not lying about the medical training."

"A .45," he confirmed. When she cocked an eyebrow at him, he gave a small smirk. "I was not lying about the military training, Fraulein."

"You should be in a hospital."

"Doctors ask too many questions."

Thousands of questions warred in her own head, but she knew it was not the time for them. "Do you have a first aid kit?" she asked.

"In my study. The black cabinet, right hand side, bottom shelf." She nodded.

"I'll be right back." She slipped out of the drawing room, taking a deep breath once she reached the foyer to steady herself. She knew the time was coming to confront the Captain about what exactly he was doing. If he was coming home with a bullet wound, whatever it was clearly had reached the point where it had the potential to affect the children, and it was her duty to protect them. But first, she had to pull a bullet out of their father.

She found the first aid kit exactly where he said it would be, and she returned as quickly as she could. He was sitting exactly where she had left him, his head thrown back against the settee, breathing deeply. Upon hearing her enter, he slotted his eyes open. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Once," she admitted truthfully.

"Better than nothing," he muttered. Maria ignored the comment as she pulled out a large set of tweezers and a lighter. She quickly sterilized the ends before turning back to the Captain.

"This will probably hurt," she told him.

"Like hell," he confirmed. At her puzzled expression, he explained, "It's not the first time I've had a bullet pulled out of me. I'm familiar with the procedure, so you can proceed." Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a pencil, placing it between his teeth. He nodded at her once he had done so, and she steeled herself briefly before inserting the tweezers into the wound. She heard his exclamation of pain, muffled by the pencil he held tightly between his teeth, and he twisted away slightly before managing to control his reaction. She dug deeper, trying desperately to ignore his groans of agony, but each one seemed to shoot straight to her heart. After what felt like hours but was likely only a few seconds, she felt something hard against the end of the tweezers, and she clamped them around the object. With a tug and a twist, she pulled the bullet free.

Holding it up triumphantly, she glanced at Georg who was sweating profusely and trembling. He spat the pencil to the side before remarking weakly, "That was even more unpleasant than I remembered."

"Where do you want. . ." Maria started to ask, but trailed off when she realized the ridiculousness of the question. Georg snorted.

"You can throw it away later. I don't plan to keep it as a souvenir." Maria nodded, setting it on the ground before turning back to the first aid kit, wondering if it would have sutures. Fortunately, it did, and Maria made quick work of closing the hole in Georg's bicep before carefully bandaging it and binding the arm to his chest. When she had finished, she looked up at him and noticed that he had fallen unconscious at some point. She was not overly surprised; she was truthfully impressed he had held onto consciousness as long as he had. With some difficulty, she managed to push him over into a horizontal position, lifting his legs so that she could place his feet on the settee. She found a blanket and covered him carefully with it before clearing away all of the first aid equipment. Once finished with that task, she returned to the drawing room, sitting once more in the chair across from the settee. Maria was not exactly sure what compelled her to begin her vigil–after all, she had done as much as she could for the Captain. However, she told herself that she was just watching him for signs of infection before settling more comfortably in the chair.

He woke with a gasp sometime later. The sun had not yet begun to peek in the windows though the moon had disappeared, so Maria guessed it must be nearing sunrise. He blinked a few times before focusing on her face. In the dim light from the nearby lamp–the only one Maria had lit–his face was soft, almost vulnerable. "You stayed?" he questioned, seeming surprised.

"I didn't want the wound to get infected," Maria said. The excuse sounded feeble even to her ears, but he nodded anyway. Reaching over, Maria retrieved a glass of water and some painkillers she had earlier taken from the first aid kit. He took them gratefully from her hands, swallowing them. Once he set the water glass aside, Maria finally dared ask the question that had been on her mind since she first saw him. "What happened? Last I checked, you don't get shot giving lectures."

"It's not-"

But Maria was done hearing excuses. "Don't tell me it's none of my business. I just pulled a bullet out of you, Captain. I think that entitles me to know a bit more about what's happening."

She stared fiercely at him for a moment, and he finally sighed in defeat. "Dollfuss is dead."

Her eyes went wide in shock, for she had not been expecting that. "You didn't-"

He gave a humorless laugh. "Of course not, Fraulein. What kind of man do you take me for?" He sighed, growing a bit introspective. "My country is falling down around me, and I can't do a damn thing to stop it, no matter how hard I try. The Nazi party attempted a coup. I learned of it too late to save the Chancellor, but we did manage to evacuate the rest of the government before anyone else was hurt. Unfortunately, i cannot say the same for the citizens of Vienna–there have been a number of uprisings since the attempted coup. Everything was planned."

"Wait, you learned of the coup?" Maria stared hard at him, willing herself to let the pieces fall into place. Finally she realized there was only one explanation. "You're a spy," she breathed.

He cocked an eyebrow challengingly. "Of a sort. Is that so hard to believe?"

She considered him for a moment. "No, I guess not." It certainly explained a good deal, including his rather erratic lecture schedule, his continued association with known members of the Nazi party, and the carefully guarded messages she had glimpsed from time to time upon entering his study. "For whom?"

"I'm sure you can figure that out."

"Italy?" He scoffed, and she realized it truly was a silly guess. "Britain," she tried, and he paused before giving an almost imperceptible nod. "But why?"

"Fraulein, I really do not think this is the appropriate time to be having this conversation."

"I just pulled a bullet out of you!"

"So you keep reminding me though you needn't do so. The constant throbbing in my arm performs that task quite nicely."

"Perhaps I should remind you of the seven children sleeping upstairs then, the children who only have one parent left and really do not need to become orphans because their father wanted to play hero."

His eyes flashed, and Maria knew she had crossed a line. "I'm doing it because of the children," he told her fiercely. "Because I don't want my children to grow up with the land of their birth annexed by Nazi Germany. Because I don't want them or anyone else persecuted for who they are or what they believe in. Because I want them to realize that one has to stand up for one's principles, no matter the cost. And yes, I am well aware of what that might be." Maria stared at him for a moment, hearing the raw pain in his voice. She realized at that moment that the Reverend Mother had no idea just how accurate she was when she had described him as a kind, honorable man. He had more honor than anyone Maria had ever met before–and likely more strength as well. She doubted many men would follow their convictions, doing what they felt was right regardless of the extraordinarily high cost to themselves. Maria was also beginning to realize just what it had taken for him to let his guard down around his children over the past few months. He was not just fighting his aristocratic upbringing–by knocking down the walls around his heart, he was opening himself to the pain he must feel every time he had to leave his children, knowing he may never see them again.

"Captain, I-" He held up his good hand suddenly, silencing her. She stared at him for a moment, confused, but his actions soon became clear when she heard shouts and loud bangs from outside. Georg let out a string of curses that identified him as the naval captain he was, pushing himself to his feet, heedless of his injury. Maria followed as he nearly ran from the room and into his study. Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked one of the bottom drawers of his desk and pulled out a large, dangerous looking gun. Maria could not help her small gasp as he quickly checked the cartridge, grabbing two more cartridges and stowing them in his pocket before tucking the gun into the waistband of his pants. He seemed quite comfortable with the weapon, even one-handed, and she reminded herself that he was a military man and, apparently, a spy.

He turned back to her, fumbling slightly with his keys. His voice was a low hiss as he spoke. "There's an underground room near the back of the house. Under the servant's stair, there's a small closet. In the back of that closet, there's a door–you won't see a knob or hinges, but the keyhole should be where you'd expect it to be. This is the key that opens it." He held up a small silver key. "If I'm not back in an hour or if you hear anyone come near the house, I want you to take the children and any staff who you can find and hide there. Don't come out for anyone but me."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to assess the situation, to figure out what is happening. I need to know if this is connected to me."

Maria's mind whirled as she processed everything he was saying. "Why don't we take everyone down now just in case?"

He pressed his lips together, seeming to have an internal debate with himself. Finally, he shook his head. "It could show my hand too early. I don't have another hiding place. If this is just a Nazi uprising like the ones in Vienna, you and the children are safe here as long as you lock the door behind me. Hiding would frighten them unnecessarily and could alert untrustworthy people to my true allegiances."

"You don't trust your staff?"

"I don't know who to trust anymore." His voice broke slightly on the words, and Maria reached out, taking the key from him. Her fingers clasped his briefly.

"You can trust me," she assured him.

He swallowed hard. "I know." They stared at one another for a few seconds more before he finally tore his gaze from hers, leaving the room quickly. Maria noted that he pulled his gun from his waistband as he went, holding it low but obviously ready to use it if needed. She took a deep breath to calm her fears before following him. As soon as he left, she locked the front door of the house. Then, for good measure, she quickly checked the other doors as well. Once assured they were locked in tight, she retreated up the stairs, positioning herself in front of the children's rooms, still clutching the key tightly in her hand. If something happened, the servants' stairs were relatively close to the children's rooms. They could reach them quickly if needed, long before any intruders could make their way upstairs.

Maria watched the hands on the clock in front of her carefully as she stood there, her entire body rigid with tension. She estimated that she had spent about fifteen minutes checking the doors, and Georg had said to wait an hour. Of course, time seemed to be passing extremely slowly; only ten minutes had ticked off the clock since she had begun her vigil. She wondered what Georg was doing, if he had found the information he was seeking.

A sound from below caused her to straighten suddenly. It sounded like breaking glass. Had the Captain returned and broken something accidentally? Or was it something more sinister? Knowing she needed more information, she crept forward, trying to keep herself in shadow while still moving close enough to see whoever was in the foyer. The sun had finally begun its ascent over the horizon, and it cast enough light through the window for her to see two figures carefully stepping inside from a broken window. Maria's heart pounded loudly when she saw neither of them were Georg. For a moment, she crouched, paralyzed in fear as the figures glanced around, grinning at the opulent surroundings. Maria shook her head vigorously. She needed to snap out of her stupor. Georg was relying on her to protect the children, and she intended to do just that.

Just as she started to turn to wake them, a third figure appeared behind the first two, and Maria easily recognized her employer. He surprised one of the intruders, grabbing him in a chokehold with his good arm before he could react. Though he struggled, he had soon collapsed on the floor. The second circled Georg warily. Suddenly, he leapt forward, and Maria saw the glint of something in his hand. Georg sidestepped the knife, bringing his hand down on the man's wrist hard enough to cause the weapon to drop and skitter across the floor. The man glanced after the fallen knife for a moment before looking back at Georg who still wore a dark, murderous expression. Without warning, he turned to the broken window, jumping out of it and disappearing. Georg's expression quickly morphed into one of concern tinged with pain, and he ran toward the steps, taking them two at a time. Maria moved towards him as well, meeting him at the top of the stairs. "Are you alright?" he questioned, cupping her cheek with his hand and staring at her. "The children?"

"We're fine," Maria told him, unable to keep a slight waver from her voice. He stared at her a moment longer before seeming to decide she was telling the truth. He dropped his hand but, instead of moving away, much to Maria's surprise, he pulled her body against his in a warm embrace. She went willingly, resting her head on his chest where she heard his heart beating wildly. "Who were they?"

She felt his scowl against the top of her head where his cheek rested. "Opportunists. There are some riots from Nazi supporters, but the police have them well in hand. It seems a few opportunists decided to use the distraction to loot the villas. I am lucky that I was nearly home when I saw them bash in that window." He finally released her, giving her another appraising look. "You are sure that you are fine?"

Maria swallowed. "Frightened, yes, but unharmed. I didn't even have a chance to wake the children before you stopped them."

Guilt creased his face. "I should never have involved you in all of this. I am sorry."

"I'm not." At his confused expression, she clarified. "I've seen how weary you have been these past few months. I know this is taking a toll on you. You need someone to share that burden."

"I'm fine. I-"

"You're not fine," she countered fiercely. She stared at him for a moment, willing him to see the truth in her statements. She wanted to help. She needed to help. As she had waited for him to return that night, she had finally fully admitted to herself something that had been brewing for quite some time–she cared about him as more than an employer and even more than as the father of the children she had come to love. She cared about him as a man, and she would be devastated if something happened to him.

His eyes searched her face for a moment. "Maria, I-" he began, dropping his normal formality. Before he could finish, however, the noise of the riot drifted in through the broken window, and he turned back to the situation at hand. "I need to get him out of here. I'd prefer not to have the police ask inconvenient questions. I hate to ask, but can you help me drag him to the car?" Maria nodded. He gave her a final look, a promise that they would talk more later, before both started down the stairs.

A/N: Probably my favorite chapter to write (it's actually been written for months since it was one of the first things I wrote for this story). I've got a couple more pre-written chapters and then I have a week long vacation coming up where I plan to finish this and another in progress story I have. I have already started a sequel though and will probably write some one-shots in this universe between the end of this story and the sequel (which will cover the escape).