There's always a Siren, singing you to shipwreck
(don't reach out, don't reach out)
(don't reach out, don't reach out)
Stay away from the rocks, we'd be a walking disaster
(don't reach out, don't reach out)
(don't reach out, don't reach out)

Just because you feel it, doesn't mean it's there…

"There There" Radiohead, "Hail to the Thief" (2003)

Georg von Trapp decided that he disliked parties, balls and, right at that very moment, probably every other type of social event he could think of. Sadly, for the past two years, this is what his life had become. A distraction of too much drinking, dining on the finest food and idle, irrelevant conversation. He'd never been someone who'd enjoyed such meaningless preoccupations.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd been trying to force some meaning back into his life, had been so hell-bent on reinventing himself, that over time he'd become one of those people that he'd always despised. He'd transformed himself so much over the past two years, he now barely recognised himself. Since his return to the villa, he'd grown to see that the more he'd forced himself to become part of the social set, the further he'd drifted away from what was really important. It had been made clear to him.

After several wines and whatever spirits were on hand, most evenings, he could eventually tolerate the attention that came his way and the endless small talk. But tonight he'd barely had a drop to drink. Tonight was different. After tonight, everything would be different.

The first social event held at the villa since Agathe's passing was proving more challenging than he could have ever imagined. Four interminable years had passed. It had really only been over the last few months that the pain had started to subside. Only in recent weeks had he been able to speak about the past without his voice catching or his heart breaking. Even so, there had still been moments and memories tonight that had caught him off guard. He knew there would be. But they weren't the only things that had caught him by surprise.

Tonight, he'd been so determined to fortify himself against the memories of Agathe that he'd left himself horribly exposed on what had turned out to be his weakest flank. He cursed himself. It had been entirely predictable. But there was no way he could have anticipated the impact. It had left him completely rattled. More than he could ever have imagined. He was still shaken.

Taking a measured sip from his glass, he savoured the Romanee-Conti Burgundy. For a few small seconds, he was able to forget everything and just marvel at the mastery of a vigneron blessed with the bounty of a truly special vintage. But all too quickly, his thoughts were back at the dining table. Not for the first time, he found himself considering how strange that the table was full of people immersing themselves in fine wine, hearty food and noisy conversation, yet he felt so utterly alone. Try as he might, he couldn't shift his attention away from the one person who wasn't there.

"Georg, I must compliment your Cook on yet another fine meal," Max leaned over raising his glass in the air. "I think she may have outdone herself tonight!"

Georg looked past the empty place towards his friend and gave him a thin smile. Glancing around the table, he could see that Frau Petering's efforts had been well received, with most plates now emptied of their main courses. Unfortunately, every time he'd forced a mouthful on himself, he could barely swallow it without it getting stuck in his throat. He was feeling more unsettled, more ill at ease, than when he'd sat down at the head of the table a little over an hour ago. He placed his cutlery down on his half-finished plate of food, realising that trying to force himself to eat any more was futile.

Thankful that Max had quickly turned away to resume his conversation with the Elberfelds, Georg was again left with his own thoughts. Almost immediately, he found himself trying to ignore the empty seat between him and Max. He'd been trying to ignore it throughout the entire meal. So far, unsuccessfully.

Forcing a nod and a smile several seats down the length of the table, he'd somehow managed to catch a witty remark from one of his former lieutenants that had been directed his way. But it wasn't long before he was back, alone, with his thoughts.

After his early years at the naval academy, Georg served in the navy for twenty years, making him a military man to the core. His world had to be disciplined, structured, methodical. He needed to be in control. But tonight, he felt like everything had spiralled out of control. Pulling at his collar with his forefinger, Georg felt like he was suffocating. But it had nothing to do with the starched collar of his crisp white shirt, the Maria Theresa medal around his neck or the blasted bow tie.

Turning to him, Elsa patted his hand. "Georg, darling, please stop fidgeting," she whispered under her breath without letting either façade of gracious hostess or guest of honour slip. It hadn't escaped her attention that Georg was distracted. It was obvious in the way he kept glancing around expecting to catch sight of that young slip of a girl in the doorway. She returned his thin smile with a much more radiant one of her own. Thankfully, all of that seemed to have taken care of itself. Certain that a few more hours in her company and he'll have forgotten all about the silly nonsense from earlier in the evening, Elsa turned her attention to Herr Schultz and his wife seated to her right.

Georg smiled at Elsa. He knew he owed her so much, but sadly he couldn't give her the one thing she wanted. His heart had always belonged to Agathe. He'd made it clear to Elsa that it always would. But now he wasn't so sure, and that thought unsettled him more than he could imagine.

Unable to stop himself, he stole another glance towards his left. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so wracked by guilt, so embarrassed by his behaviour. But there was another feeling he couldn't shake. Despite all of his guilt, he could barely hide his elation. Even though two hours had passed, he could still feel his pulse racing. It was impossible to ignore. Impossible to understand. What in God's name was happening to him?

Something had stirred feelings that had laid dormant. The sheer excitement of having felt something real, something raw, for the first time in four years was overwhelming. And he knew he hadn't been alone. That's what he found so thrilling. Even after four years of excruciating hell, he could still recognise that look. He wasn't mistaken. She'd felt it too. That's what was so exhilarating.

He knew he was playing with fire earlier in the evening. It was a game he'd been playing well before he'd stepped into the courtyard to interrupt Maria's dance lesson with Kurt. Before he'd tapped his son on the head and reached out with a gloved hand and an unguarded plea in his eyes. No, the game had begun long before they'd started hop-stepping and spinning their way through the early steps of the Laendler.

If he was honest, his feelings had been brewing for days, probably weeks. Long before he'd pulled Maria against him in those final steps of the dance. He'd been fighting this thing since his return from Vienna.

Before returning to the villa, he'd actually hoped that the children would have seen off their twelfth governess just as efficiently as they had the previous eleven. Instead, what had been bubbling just beneath the surface finally burst into life tonight in the courtyard in those final steps of the Laendler. He'd held her so close, he could still feel the imprint of her body against his. He could still taste the air that they'd shared as they both tried to catch their breath, her familiar scent still floated around him now.

It had taken every ounce of restraint to stop himself from leaning into her and brushing his lips against hers. Somehow time had stood still, they'd stopped spinning, but still clung to each other, unable to let go. When he'd finally released Maria's hand that he'd held above their heads, he could barely resist the impulse to rake his fingers through her hair. He'd somehow fought the need to pull her closer, to hold her, to kiss her, to taste her sweetness…Dear God! He'd been seducing the governess in front of his children and the woman he was supposed to be courting. Heaven help him!

Yes, Georg knew that he'd been playing a game when it came to Maria. It had started innocently enough, but had now taken a dangerous turn. It had been going on for weeks. Perhaps it had started after their argument on the landing. But up until now, it had just been a game. There'd been the teasing, the playful arguments. Over the weeks he'd been surprised to find that he enjoyed her company and was challenged by her quick wit. Their weekly meetings to discuss the children's progress had quickly become more frequent and less about the children. He'd soon found that his meetings with Maria had become his favourite part of the day.

He couldn't pinpoint when exactly things had changed, when he'd found himself seeking her out, needing her approval, missing her when hours had passed and he hadn't seen her, caught her laugh or heard her footsteps in the distance. But he thought he'd been in control. He'd convinced himself that he was on safe ground. How wrong he'd been.

After their heated looks the night of the puppet show, he'd spent the past weeks reining things in. Up until tonight he could convince himself that it was just a game that only he'd been playing. But tonight, that had all changed. It was no longer a game. Tonight it had been laid bare, and it was unmistakable. He never imagined that he'd see his longing, his hunger, reflected in Maria's eyes. Not even in his wildest dreams. And, oh, there had been dreams…

But he couldn't have stopped himself tonight, even if he wanted to. And he wasn't even certain, now as he tried to find any feeble reason to justify his behaviour, that he would do anything different. Faced with the opportunity again, the burning need to touch Maria, to feel her in his arms, given the choice, he would probably do it all again.

It was impossible to defend his behaviour.

He felt terrible that Elsa had witnessed everything. Elsa had dragged him out of his miserable existence two years ago, saving him from himself and giving his life some sort of meaning. She didn't deserve such shabby treatment.

He deserved Elsa's sarcastic reprimand and cool reception, and so much more.

To compound the whole sorry mess, after the children's performance, Max had invited Maria to join them for dinner. Georg cringed inwardly and felt a new wave of guilt as he recalled Maria's response. Even with his back to her, he'd heard the hesitation and doubt in her voice as she tried to fend off Max's invitation. But what had he done? He'd acted as if he couldn't care less. He'd still been so shaken by what had just happened in the courtyard, he couldn't even trust himself to turn to look at her. He knew that if he saw that longing in her eyes, he couldn't trust his own reaction, not while he was still struggling to gather his thoughts so soon after nearly kissing her in front of the children and Elsa.

So, instead of offering her reassurance, he'd given her indifference. Barely acknowledging her, despite what they'd shared moments earlier. He'd thrown a glib comment over his shoulder with a wave of his glove. The guilt was tearing him apart, even now. He was desperate to see her and beg her forgiveness. God he hated himself.

Looking across the room, his thoughts were interrupted by Herr Zeller sharing a joke with his Nazi henchmen. Barely able to disguise his disgust, Georg was still fuming from his earlier encounter with Zeller. What the hell were they doing in his home? He still couldn't believe that Elsa had invited them. But then, as he glanced sadly around the room, he wondered how many of his friends and acquaintances would soon find themselves being forced to side with such madmen. It was a troubling thought.

Unable to bear the burden of the empty place next to him any longer, Georg caught the eye of Franz who was standing beside the doorway of the dining room overseeing the waiting staff. Georg nodded at the empty place to his left, and watched as Franz moved across to deftly remove the cutlery and the linen serviette while the waiting staff removed the main course plates. He couldn't miss the butler's amused look. His contempt for Maria had been thinly veiled from that first day, when he'd knocked on the study door to announce her arrival.

As soon as the tableware was removed and the chair discretely moved back against the wall, Max shuffled his chair closer to Georg, despite the thunderous look from his friend.

"I do wonder what happened to our young Fraulein," Max whispered conspiratorially under his breath. "I was rather looking forward to sharing an interesting and lively conversation for a change," he said smoothing out his moustache. "She has such a freshness about her, doesn't she?" he added with a smile.

"Max, I'm sure Fraulein Maria is thankful that the children have spared her from your badgering," Georg replied sharply. He found Max's comments a little disconcerting. And he certainly didn't like Max showing such an interest in Maria. Good God, was he jealous?

"Yes, I'm sure the children are still wide awake with all the excitement," Max agreed. "But Georg, just imagine what they could do at the festival…"

But Georg wasn't listening. He was only vaguely aware of Max talking about the children and their talents. His mind had drifted off to Maria. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour, he wondered where she was. What had kept her? It had been almost two hours since she'd followed the children up the stairs. Had it really taken her so long to get the children off to sleep? Perhaps Max was right, but then what did Max know about children.

As he watched dessert being served by the waiting staff, he decided he would check in on the children as soon as the meal was finished. He knew Maria would still be with them, after all she'd become like a mother to them. It had only been a few hours, but he missed her desperately. He had to admit that Max was right about one thing. Maria definitely was a breath of fresh air.

The sooner he saw Maria, the sooner he could start fixing the unholy mess he'd created. But that was only part of his problems. He also needed to speak to Elsa. God, what a mess!

How the hell did it come to this?

ooooXXXXoooo

Waiting at the bus stop, Maria shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. She'd decided some time ago that the grey dress she was wearing must be made of the most uncomfortable material ever woven. She knew she should be thankful for it, but it really was horrible. It was coarse and stiff, making it incredibly scratchy. Little wonder the poor didn't want it. At least it provided some warmth against the cool air. She should at least be thankful for that.

Maria had no idea how long she'd have to wait, but she hoped it wouldn't be much longer. She probably should have some idea of the bus timetable. It would be useful at times like this. But then, she never was one to plan too far ahead. Why would she have imagined there might be a time when she'd need to know such things? She really hadn't imagined finding herself here. Not like this. Not in her wildest dreams. Although, this was more like her worst nightmare.

It had all begun so well. It always did. But why did she have to get so horribly distracted? Again. Why did she have to lose sight of God's will? Was this what the Reverend Mother had been trying to tell her over the past years? What everyone else at the Abbey seemed to understand except her?

She was trying not to think any further ahead than the bus ride. But as time ticked by it was getting harder. It was hard to know what worried her more. The mess she was leaving behind or what was waiting for her at the other end. Wondering if a bus was ever going to appear, she could feel the telltale sting in her eyes as she desperately tried to ignore all the thoughts running around in her head. But that was proving impossible. There was so much to think about.

Having already shed some tears, Maria told herself she wasn't going to cry again. But she could barely breathe, the emotions were almost choking her. Biting down hard on the sobs that threatened to escape, a single tear spilled over and started tracking a slow path down her cheek.

How did it come to this?

I've had this story rattling around in my head for a while now and have finally had a chance to make a start. Thank you for reading, please let me know your thoughts!

I know it's been a theme in a few TSOM stories, but Maria is such an obvious Siren when it comes to Georg - the poor man can't help himself! Radiohead's "There There" is based on Homer's Odyssey, where the Sirens use their song to try to tempt the passing sailors towards them, often causing them to steer into the rocks at their peril. Check out the acoustic version on YouTube, Thom Yorke's vulnerability is haunting. Otherwise, the foreboding live performance at Glastonbury 2003 is truly breathtaking. As the song reaches its peak, the swell of the crowd mimics the raging sea.

I still don't own TSOM, back having a lend!