Nothing comes from nothing

A/N:

Another story that has been "gathering dust" in my hard drive. Slightly AU. What if the Captain, after breaking up with Elsa, waited another day or two to talk to Maria in the gazebo? When the scene starts the children are already in bed, in the same day Maria returns from the Abbey. This chapter was inspired by a scene from Jane Eyre.

Disclaimer: I don't own "The Sound of Music". You know the rest…

"Nothing happens in vain, but everything for a reason and under necessitation." Leuccipus.

Maria was descending the stairs, barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand, because the last thing she wanted was to be seen or heard. She needed peace, she needed air. She needed to breathe, and God knows that tonight, more than ever, she would not be able to that near him. She felt like all doors and windows had been closed to her, and with that, one of her basic beliefs had been shattered. There had to be a way out, and if there was, she would have found it.

"Well, well! I do hope you are not planning to run back to Nonnberg barefoot at this ungodly hour!" said the Captain, startling Maria. She held on to the banister for support. "Are the children in bed?" he asked, as she hastily dropped her shoes to the floor and proceeded to put them on.

"Yes, Captain. Except for Liesl, of course."

"Of course," he echoed. He had given the sixteen year old permission to stay a little longer with the adults that evening. What Maria did not know was the he had done that because one of her simple, and yet effective, arguments, had convince him.

"Captain, their ages range from five to sixteen. You can't treat Liesl as if she were Gretl, and vice versa."

Maria broke the silence this time. "I - I was just going for a little walk…" Her voice was low, and she refused to meet his eyes, pretending to be busy with an imaginary crease in her skirt.

"How are you?" he asked gravely. The question took her completely by surprise, and she straightened herself. Had he just inquired about her well being? He had never done that before. Why should he care, especially now?

"Ahem… I am very well, Sir. Thank you."

"Then why did you not come and speak to me… to the children, after dinner? You didn't have to scurry back to your room like that. You just… vanished."

For a moment, Maria almost returned to her old, forthrightness. She did not scurry, did she? However, she was far from feeling confident enough to take that kind of liberty. After hearing the news of his engagement, her emotional balance was still too shaky, and she found herself going from denial to anger, sadness, despair, acceptance, and back to denial every five minutes.

"Well…"

"Well?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged with the children and the Baroness. Isn't it important that they get better acquainted with her considering you are soon to be married?"

It was a habit of hers, to answer his questions with another one, whenever she felt cornered. Georg completely ignored the question, and started pacing around her, just like he did the first day they had met. She found it was intimidating now as it had been then.

"Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself at the Abbey all this time? The children told me you were in seclusion. I think I know what it means, but how on earth does did that apply to you, exactly?"

"It is nothing out of the ordinary in a convent, Captain. Sometimes we do need some time on our own, to… to meditate."

"Meditate about what?"

Maria thought for a moment. "Oh, the usual. Life, faith." Love, she thought.

"Holy virtues and deadly sins?" he teased, remembering their conversation a few weeks before.

"That too."

"But you... Did you get yourself into any trouble again and was that punishment for it?" He stopped and stared at her intently. "Were they too severe with you because you left us before the right time? Were you disciplined in any way?"

"No, of course not. Seclusion is never used as a punishment. Never at Nonnberg."

"I see." But he wasn't ready to give up yet. "Were you ill?"

"No, not at all."

"I don't know if I believe that. Right now, you are not exactly a picture of good health," he observed. "You hardly touched your dinner. The children are worried, and quite frankly, so am I. What is the matter?"

"Nothing!" she said, with a dismissive gesture that was so typically hers, and attempting a smile.

She failed to convince him.

"Did you catch a cold from staying most of the time outside the night of the ball? It was rather chilly out."

"Not in the least," she answered, blushing vividly and praying that he would not notice it. Why did he have to bring that night up? She chastised herself for having chosen the same dress she had worn that evening tonight. But the other alternative was unthinkable – the blue dress. Wearing it would be even more disturbing tonight, since it was associated with equally nerve wracking memories.

Why was he questioning her like that? Why was he so interested in her thoughts and feelings, especially now that she new that his bride to be was in the next room, sipping champagne, waiting for him to return to her, to call her darling and to flirt shamelessly?

Maria had dealt with him in such a mood before – that night, weeks ago, when she woke up to music in the middle of the night, and walked up to the attic, to find him playing the grand piano. A night that she avoided thinking about, especially lately, when her world began turning upside down. Oh, there were other nights when she would wake up to the sound of his haunting music. How tempted she had been, to follow that the sound, if for no other reason, only to see him as she had seen him that night.

But he did not look wild, as he did then. He looked impeccable as usual. Only his eyes and his voice linked him to that man she had known once.

"Please," he said, nodding towards the door. "You are deserting us too early. Liesl was just about to convince me to play the piano, and Max was just about to convince me to…" He stopped when he saw the look in her face. If he wasn't mistaken, she was about to burst into tears.

"I am sorry, Captain but I am rather tired. It's been quite an exhausting day."

"But you were just going for a little walk, weren't you?" He winked. "Even as tired as you are?"

Caught in her little lie, Maria lowered her head, and finished descending the stairs moving past him.

"Say what you will, but you are a little downcast," he added. She stopped cold, her back as stiff as a rod. "More than a little, in fact. Very out of character for you, which is the reason one can't help but notice. Why so unhappy? You are back to us! What is it?"

You are, her mind screamed. "I am not depressed. I am never depressed."

"You are. So unhappy and so miserable that an only a few more words from me would make those tears in your eyes fall."

"Captain, please don't…," she began pleading, but he did not allow her to continue.

"No, say no more. Please, forgive me. The last thing I want now is to make you cry, that I can assure you." His eyes burned into hers, and she could not bring herself to look away.

"I…" she tried to speak, but her throat felt tight.

"Don't!" he silenced. "Let us stop this right now. I cannot do this to you, not anymore." His tone was strangled, and there was passion, as well as angst in his words. It was just too much for Maria.

"Father where…" It was Liesl, who burst into the room. She blushed, when she realized she had obviously interrupted something. Maria turned her back to her and the Captain, drying the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand. Georg followed the motion with his eyes, and then turned to his daughter.

"What is it, Liesl?"

"I cannot find the music – Liszt's Liebestraum. It is not where you said it was, under the piano bench."

"It's all right; I don't think I'll need it."

"Fraülein, are you staying?" Liesl asked, hopefully. "We could try some of Schubert's Lieder. I went downtown last week and bought the music sheets. Father can play the piano, and you could sing. Wouldn't that be perfect?!"

Just perfect, Maria thought. To sing love songs while he played the piano, and while both of them were watched by his fiancée, Baroness Schrader. She turned around to voice the first excuse that would come to mind, but the Captain spoke for her.

"I think she is rather tired tonight, Liesl. This had been quite a day for her… for all of us."

Liesl´s questioning glance turned to Maria. "Your father is right, Liesl. I was just about to retire. We can… we can leave Schubert for some other rime."

"Oh," the girl moaned, obviously disappointed. "Maybe tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow. It's a promise." Maria tried to smile.

"Good night Liesl. Captain."

"Good night," they answered in unison.

It wasn't until later that she realized that not once he had called her "Fraülein".