A/N: Still not over it. Mary's just so out of character for the second half of season two. So here I am, a full-grown adult with real adult responsibilities, obsessing over a tv show and the multitude of possible ways it could have gone that would have been so much better. Story of Mary and Francis reconnecting sooner, with less betrayal.

"Mary, if we're going to leave, and send troops to Scotland, now is the time, you have the authority. You have the power when Francis is incapacitated. We need to go. We can save your country and be together!" Louis had taken her hands in his and was looking down at her in front of the map showing the northern third of France and the main British isle.

She knew that he had meant Scotland, but his use of 'your country' had struck something. France is also her country. Ever since he mentioned his plan of taking her to Scotland so that they could be together, she had been uneasy. She didn't want to leave France. These were her people and Francis, strained as things had become, was her husband. Even if she wanted to leave, her claim to Scotland rode heavily on her faith and her people were unlikely to accept a woman who had left her husband.

With Francis fallen ill, that unease increased three-fold. During her musings, looking at the map, contemplating pros and cons, Louis had run his hands from her own, up her arms, and was now coaxing her face back to his. She realized that he was going to kiss her. "Louis, stop. I can't." She pulled away. "My husband is lying in bed, possibly dying." She turned back to the map, hoping that focusing on a more pressing matter would occupy the presence of mind needed and she wouldn't be able to worry about her heart. "I just can't do this right now."

She glanced up at Louis' face once more and then turned on her heel. She strode confidently out of the room, very unlike how she felt.

She walked straight to Francis' room and walked quietly up to his bed. It seemed the thing to do when in the room of a sleeping person- to walk quietly. It occurred to Mary, however, that they wanted Francis to wake and she should almost be coming in waving a tambourine and knocking things to the floor, anything to wake him.

For the past two nights, Mary had been avoiding Louis. It was easier to be with him when she could still be mad at Francis. When she could still blame him for what had happened to her. Now, she was so afraid to lose him that she realized she had forgiven him quite a while ago. She had taken to pulling a chair to the edge of the bed and taking Francis' hand in hers, praying for him while he slept. Both of the previous nights, she had awoken to the sound of his breathing as he head had drooped to his chest. The sound no longer scared her.

No, what scared her was the idea that she would never get to say that she loved him again and get to hear it returned. What scared her was that they had both taken steps too far in their marriage to ever repair it. When she was here, in this room with him, it seemed simpler. They were wed. Her husband lay before her and she desperately needed him to awaken.

When she stepped outside of this room, she had stepped into the role of commander in chief of French forces. She had to make decisions for Scotland and for France and balance the most good for the most people. She also had Louis to consider.

Clutching his hand to her, she spoke softly to him, "Francis, I know you can't hear me, but if you could, I would hope that you would understand. I would hope that you would forgive me. I've forgiven you and I'm so, so sorry. I'm sending 2,000 French troops to help settle the Protestant lords in Scotland. Though I long to see Scotland and to give the orders for these troops, I know my place is here. With you." She sat down in the chair at his bedside and stroked his hair away from his forehead.

He felt- cooler? Less feverish than he had the previous night. "Francis?" She raised her voice slightly.

He stirred.

"Francis, can you hear me?" She ran her fingers through his hair again and realized the hand holding his had been applying more pressure than she meant for it to and she released it. "Francis, I need you to wake up. Please, Francis."

His eyes fluttered.

She turned toward the door, "Catherine!" She screamed. A guard came to the door. "Get the Queen Mother and the physician. The king is showing signs of waking." She turned back to him and continued to try to coax him awake.

The bodies stirring behind her couldn't rouse her from his side as he opened his eyes and seemed to take in what was around him, to take in Mary leaning over him. "Francis, you're awake!" She was smiling and sobbing and she saw one of her tears fall onto their hands. Catherine came up beside her and pushed her to the side, the physician close behind her.

Mary began to back up, giving Catherine access to her son and the physician access to ascertain his medical standing. She had not been planning to go anywhere, but Catherine turned toward her, hatred on her face. "I think you've done enough. He doesn't need his traitorous wife in the room."

Thinking of retorting, but realizing an argument between herself and his mother wouldn't be best for Francis right after he woke up, she left the room