First, thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, follows and simply reading my first story. I am so grateful.
I will warn you that I don't know where, if anywhere, I'm going with this story. I started writing it back in February/March and forgot about it. I have five chapters almost finished, but, like this one, they are not terribly long. I probably would not be sharing this at all if there wasn't such a dearth of Mash stories. I had hoped the deleted scene might energize the fanbase a bit. :/ Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you like it! I will probably post chapter 2 later this week. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated.
Chapter 1
Mary heard the retching before she turned the corner. Bash was hunched over, pressed against the door to the stables as he puked into the bushes. Slowly, as he had finally rid himself of the toxins, he stood up and turned to enter the stables, but her silhouette stopped him.
"Your Grace," he nodded stiffly.
"Bash ..." Mary said softly, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice.
"I should offer my congratulations," he said.
She noticed that he didn't actually congratulate her and her lips tightened. Why she had come looking for him, she didn't know. She had no words that were suitable, yet she needed to see him. "I'm sorry, Bash," was all she could offer.
He looked at fully for the first time. She was still in her wedding gown, minus the train. "Be careful, Your Grace. Royals don't apologize."
She wasn't ready for this shift in their relationship and her eyes started to water. "Please don't," Mary whispered.
"Don't what?" he challenged, standing as tall as his body would allow.
"I don't want to lose you," she confessed. "I know it's not fair-"
"Fair!?" Bash exclaimed, letting a callous laugh out before he turned and entered the stables, his balance uneven. He dropped into a stall filled with hay and let out an exhausted sigh.
Mary followed him cautiously, still unsure of her intentions or the soundness of her actions and disregarding the dirt and hay looking to mar her dress. She'd have to come up with an excuse as to why her gown was less than pristine later.
"I told you I'd get sauced at your wedding."
She winced at his sardonic tone. "Yes," she said quietly. That was the day they'd first kissed. It felt so long ago.
Bash shook his head, then winced. "Why are you here, Mary?"
"I was worried about you," she confessed, fighting the urge to move closer and brush the hair from his face. She wanted to see his eyes clearly, but feared the emotion she'd find behind them.
"How nice," he sighed. "Well, as you can see, I'm quite alright. If you'll forgive me, I'd like to get some sleep. I've a long ride ahead."
"A ride? Where are you going?"
"Paris was the plan - my mother's chateau - but we'll see." He squinted at her. "Surely you didn't think I'd stay here."
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Everything had happened so quickly that the thought hadn't occurred to her. Slowly, the reality of the situation started to sink in. No, she couldn't expect him to stay; she probably didn't want him to stay. It'd be too painful. For both of them.
"Don't look so sad, Mary. You're getting everything you want," he said with faux cheer.
"No, I'm not." She could feel the anger starting to seep into her.
Bash looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps because your wants are not constant."
She bit the inside of her lip. "If you want to be angry with me, fine. I deserve it. But don't pretend-"
"Pretend!?" he pounced, his eyes suddenly wide and fiery. "No, I never pretended. Not once, not with you."
"And you think I did? You think I wanted this to happen?"
"What I think doesn't matter," he dismissed before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the hay. "Please go, Mary," he pleaded. "Be with your husband. Be with Francis."
Mary looked around helplessly. This was it. This was their goodbye and there was no changing it. He was leaving her world as suddenly as he'd entered. Silently, she turned and left.
