You Don't Look at All Like a Sea Captain

Notes: Lol I rise from the fanfiction dead? I watched TSOM recently and now this story won't leave me alone, so HERE WE ARE. I couldn't make this story work in the movie timeline, so we're combining with the historical timeline. For my purposes, in 1915, Maria is 7 and Georg is 25, making them 22 and 40 in 1930. Also we're just accepting that the Nazis are 8 years away and that's fine. They don't get to participate in this one and I'm okay with that. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 1

1915

Despite the invigorating, fresh smell of the Adriatic and the refreshment of a relaxing leave, Georg von Trapp couldn't help but grimace at the sight of his newest crew members. Nearly three years of war had left their mark on the men of Austria. The batches of eager, young cadets and lieutenants of 1914 were a thing of the past. Instead, he found himself gazing at an exhausted line of men ranging from their teens into their 40s who would've given anything to hop on the next train home.

"Well at least the U-14's much larger than the U-5." He thought wryly. It wouldn't do any good to remind his men that they could've been stuck on top of each other in his old ship, but the urge still came. They weren't the only ones with families and loved ones, after all. It wasn't as though he didn't have other places to be or people to take care of.

"Stop it."

He couldn't think about them. Not now. He especially couldn't think about Agathe or the more than likely 5th child she was carrying. They certainly did seem to have a track record with his shore leaves…

Gazing at his new recruits, Georg missed Max coming up behind him and nearly shoving him off the dock.

"Hey!"

He barely caught himself on a nearby pole and swung around ready to start the day with a hell of a scolding. His entire being softened at the smirking face of his best friend.

"Good morning, Captain." Max teased.

"Well good morning, Lieutenant." Georg clipped back, hiding a smile, "I'm so glad to see someone's eager to volunteer for latrine duties."

"You wound me."

Georg rolled his eyes at his friend's dramatics, but he couldn't deny they lessened gloom a bit.

"Are these the new recruits?" asked Max. Well, at least Georg knew he wasn't crazy from the hesitance in Max's voice.

"I'm afraid so." Georg sighed.

"Lord. They look like they've never seen so much as a bar brawl."

"And obviously that's the naval standard I'm looking for…" Georg snipped.

Max just shrugged.

"Is your brother joining us this tour?"

"No," Georg replied, genuinely disappointed. "They moved him to another ship. My father's influence, no doubt. Wouldn't do for both of his sons to go down in the same ship."

Max raised an eyebrow at the ire in Georg's voice.

"They based him closer to home, didn't they?" he asked knowingly.

"Yes," Georg gritted through tense teeth. "Little bastard always was the favorite. You know he has leave again in four months?"

"FOUR?!" Max gasped a little too loudly, attracting the attention of the men. "Well, I hope he breaks his neck tripping off the dock."

Georg laughed. If only Werner could be taken down a peg…

He spared a glance to his new crew. They seemed to have the opposite problem.

"Well, let's at least hope they've got sea legs. I'm not about to spend six months trapped in a vomitorium."

Georg opened his mouth to tell him a vomitorium wasn't actually for vomit, but Max was gone – already heading for the deflated line of men.

"Perhaps that's for the best," Georg thought morosely. "Maybe if they trust him, they won't fear me."

He chastised himself for the thought, but the truth was, command came more naturally to him than assurance. He was good with battles, not people. He always had been. It wasn't that he couldn't make friends, he just didn't have the tolerance for small talk. He adored deeper conversations about meaningful subjects, but those were shockingly hard to come by in his opinion.

It was one of the reasons he'd fallen for Agathe. By the time they were partnered on the dance floor at her debut ball, he'd been ready to scream. In fact, he nearly turned her down – at her own party – but as he was about to do so, she swept him into a waltz and started subtly leading him.

"Just smile at me and go to the right." She hissed between her fakely smiling teeth. He was stunned. What could he do except obey after hours of incessant giggles? After a few turns, he spotted the cause of her irritation.

"We're being followed." He whispered. A young man with scrawny arms and a somewhat awkward moustache was making a determined effort to catch up to the couple.

"I know." She whispered back.

"Are you running from a suitor at your own ball? What would your father say?" The tease left his mouth without his permission and he wasn't surprised at the sting of her nails through his glove.

"Stop dancing and I'll tell him you made advances."

"You wouldn't dare."

The bumbling young man tripped, sending champagne flowing across the dance floor. Agathe took the opportunity to spin them to the other side of the room.

"I think you'll find I dare a lot of things," she eyed his uniform jacket and quickly spotted his rank, "cadet. As do my friends. Perhaps if you weren't so distracted by our pretty gowns, you might understand the dance floor makes us equals in that regard."

"Because we're all tripping over ourselves like fools?"

"No," she stated simply, "because we're navigating a battlefield. Excuse me."

The gong of the church bell snapped him out of his happy reverie. It was time. No more procrastinating.

Straightening his jacket, Georg made his way dutifully down to the men on the end of the dock. He couldn't help but note their reactions to his approach. Most straightened up, immediately respecting his Captain's uniform if nothing else, but not all. War was new to them. They were going off to die for their country – why respect the man leading them there?

"Welcome to the U-14 crew, gentlemen. I am your Captain, Georg von Trapp." His trained authority garnered most of their attention and he felt the relief course through him. "It is my understanding that the closest you've been to war is your basic training. That doesn't matter. Out here, experience doesn't keep you alive: following orders does. While I may be in command, it is every man's job on my ship to ensure the survival of his fellow officers. That means you will conduct yourselves with decorum, listen to your superiors, and understand that no man here is your enemy. If you can do that, we will all return to our families and do our duty to our country. Now, gather your things."

Most of the men hopped-to immediately and even Max was impressed. Obviously one of his better speeches.

One man, however, moved slower than the others – and Georg could tell it wasn't from age or injury. A quick glance showed him a relatively healthy man in his late-30s. In need of a shave, perhaps, but not a sick bed.

"Max, sort them out on board." Max nodded knowingly and grabbed his own pack before helping the men settle as Georg walked over to this new stranger.

"With haste, officer. There will be no time for hesitation on board, and I will not tolerate sloth, is that understood?"

The slightly-haggard man nodded, moving slightly faster, though not nearly enough for Georg's liking. He'd have to keep an eye on him.

"What's your name, officer?" Georg demanded.

"Karl, Captain," he responded, "Karl Kutschera. From Saltsburg."

"Officer Kutschera," Georg nodded, "I trust I will not have to emphasize the urgency of our situation again."

"No sir," Karl replied.

As Karl climbed down the entrance ladder, Georg couldn't help but shake at the haunted look in his oddly blue eyes. He didn't know what happened to Karl, but it couldn't have been good. He only prayed it wouldn't jeopardize the rest of his crew or his mission.

Taking a final breath, on land, Georg spared a glance at the pocket watch he kept with Agathe's picture.

He would make it home for her and their children.

And he would be damned if the rest of his men did otherwise.

1930

"I promise, I'll be right back!" Georg shouted happily to the children as he hurried up the stairs to the house. Behind him, the cacophony of his offspring and their governess blossomed through the air. He'd never been so grateful for noise. Or at least that was what the new Georg of two weeks ago felt.

None of that mattered at the moment, however, because his sister, Hede was on the phone and that usually meant chaos or death. He could only pray it was the former.

Frau Schmidt handed the receiver to him with a smile and he thanked God for it. Hede was never great at masking her emotions and a family death would've snuck right through her façade.

"Hede?"

"Oh Georg! There are you are. What on earth took you so long, I didn't think you left your office anymore?"

"Yes," he thought, "Definitely not a death. Chaos then. What happened?"

"There are other rooms in my house, Hede." He reminded her.

"Oh yes, I know, but your little pity party usually keeps itself relatively contained." The words were a joke, but her tone told him she meant it and wasn't thrilled by his former behavior. It stung.

"Hede, what do you want?"

"To know when we should arrive."

Georg froze.

"…what do you mean when you should arrive?"

Hede scoffed.

"Have you read any of my letters? Mother and I are coming into town tomorrow for the memorial dedication this weekend. She rightly assumed we would stay with you for a rare glimpse of your children."

"Oh no."

"I…I completely forgot." Georg admitted sheepishly. How could he have been so foolish? Yes, he tended to skim through his sister's correspondence, but he would never have missed something like this…oh.

"Let me guess, you said yes to her and then drank until you forgot the memorial was happening?"

God, he hated when she was right, but in his defense, that was the old him! He was in Vienne at the time anyway and trying desperately to forget quite a few things. Was it really his fault he'd intentionally mislaid his invitation to the unveiling of Saltzburg's newest naval memorial? Sponsored by his family? In honor of his god-forsaken brother? Yes. Yes it was absolutely his fault.

"When does your train get in?" He reluctantly asked.

"3:00, thank you for asking." Hede replied. "So glad to hear the excitement in your voice…"

"I'm sorry, Hede," he genuinely apologized, "there's been quite a lot happening recently."

"Yes, I heard." She quipped.

"You…heard?"

"Everyone's heard, Georg. You brough that woman back to your home to meet your children. It's a miracle befitting the second coming of Christ himself."

"So glad to hear the excitement in your voice…" he parroted.

"She's not good for you."

"You don't know her."

"I know enough."

"I'll see you at 3:00 tomorrow."

"Hede…"

"Goodbye, little brother."

She hung up before he could say anything else. God, she was infuriating. It made sense that she and Agathe got along so well. It seemed the women in his life thrived by getting under his skin, the most recent addition being no exception – Abbey be damned.

"Except Elsa," he mused, "thank god for that."

Oh god, Elsa. In the midst of all his forgetting, he'd also managed to forget that he'd somehow ended up with his intended fiancé, his mother, and his sister all scheduled under the same roof. It was all Werner's fault, really, though. If he hadn't gone and gotten himself blown up, then their mother wouldn't have rededicated her life to the memory of her favorite son, and Georg wouldn't need to attend the memorial unveiling.

"That's not true, though," he admitted to himself, "you have other reasons to go. Many of them."

Putting the phone back, he let himself unlock the bottom drawer of his desk. The small box at the back mocked him. It seemed he was quite skilled at hiding away memories.

He wiggled the box out of its home, coughing slightly at the guilty sheen of dust. It was a simple box. No lock. No ornated design. Inside though…

He opened the lid gingerly. At least the years hadn't damaged the contents.

Hidden away lay a small, silver locket. Or at least he thought it was silver. The man who gave it to him with his dying breath wasn't exactly well-off, but it could've been an heirloom. Not that it mattered much.

He'd never delivered it to the family.

Gently opening the locket, he sighed at the familiar pictures looking back at him: a young woman with long, flowing blonde hair and a little girl, no older than two or three.

"I'm sorry, Karl." He whispered.

Georg put the locket and the box back, but left the drawer unlocked. Perhaps he could bring it to the memorial. After all, it wasn't just for Werner.

He might never have found Karl's family, but he could still honor him. After all these years. It was some small consolation.

Shaking off the memories, Georg eagerly returned to his family and the new life they were building together.

It wasn't until later at dinner, when he gazed across the table at Fraulein Maria eyes (something he'd been doing too often, in his opinion) that he had an odd rush of familiarity.

The feeling passed quickly, though. She was quickly becoming part of the family. Surely, it was just a comforting sense of belonging.

This story's going to pretty consistently take place in the two timelines! I hope you like where it's going! 3