Lady Mary Crawley was desperate. She hadn't moved from her son's bedside in 3 days, opting to sleep, eat and generally live next to him in a chair. Her family was worried about her and numerous times they had tried to remove her but she stayed put. Her domineering nature overriding their concerns.
Mary enjoyed being her son's nurse. She felt like Sybil, her sister, who had worked as a nurse in the Great War, long before either of them had considered having children. Being back in the nursery also brought back painful memories of her and her dead sister playing together when they were little. George's room had been Sybil's originally (obviously it had been redecorated for her son) so the mix of having her sick son lying in the same room where her dead sister had lain made Mary feel even more uneasy than she would do normally.
Mary slept away most of the days by her son. She always made sure to sleep with his hand in hers, in case she felt any movement from her otherwise lifeless boy. During this specific nap, Lady Mary hadn't been dreaming, like what she normally did. She was relatively peaceful - calm, even - in her sleep, so much so that even Nanny had left the two of them alone when she tried to approach Lady Mary for luncheon.
It was about 2pm when Lady Mary was awoken by a sharp intake of breath. She sat bolt upright, defensive of her son. No one had entered the room, it seemed to be in the immaculate state that she had left it when she had closed her eyes briefly, for a nap. Mary decided it was nothing, and lay her head back down by her son's side, attempting to sleep away her worries.
"Mama?"
It was so quiet that had a pin dropped Lady Mary would have missed it. She was immediately awake.
George had spoken.
"George?!" She said back, almost hysterical with relief. She watched as her baby boy's bright blue eyes opened to look at her. She could feel her eyes brimming with tears, this, this was the moment she had been waiting for, and she had no reason to want to share it with anyone else.
"I love you George." She whispered to him, the first tears began to fall.
"Don't cry Mama, you know I love you too." Every word seemed to take George so much effort. He wheezed out his words one at a time, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak full sentences, he just concentrated on one word after another.
Mary rubbed her son's hand, conscious of the fact that she couldn't hug him in case she hurt him in some way.
"Am I sick?" George wheezed.
"Yes darling, but you're awake now, you will get better, my love, you can get better." She whispered, not making any effort to hide the tears that were openly falling down her face.
"Is Alice or Grace sick?" George said
"Don't worry about your sisters, worry about getting yourself better." Lady Mary said indignantly
"Are they Mama? What about Sybbie? Is she sick too?" George wheezed, desperate for answers
Mary sighed, she was not capable of denying her son anything.
"No, sweetheart. They're all fine." Mary said, appreciating her son's thoughtfulness for others. At this news George relaxed back into his pillow, and his mouth twitched into what looked like the biggest smile his body was able to produce.
"I'd rather be sick than let anyone else be sick." He whispered as he wiped his Mama's tears off her cheeks. Mary removed his hand from her face, worried about him exerting himself.
George started to cough again. Mary caught the bloody phlegm in a towel next to his bed. She wiped his head, and smiled, bringing in a fresh new wave of tears as she did so.
"I'm hot." George announced.
"Oh, darling." Mary shouted for Nanny, who came rushing into the room with everything in her arms for every type of emergency. When she saw George awake, attempting a smile, her face filled with colour and a disbelieving smile came across her face.
"No!" She whispered. Mary nodded, and took the wet towels out of the Nanny's hands, pushing them to George's burning forehead.
"Can you get Doctor Clarkson?" Mary asked, and the Nanny just shook her head, far beyond words.
Mary patted George's head with the cold towel. He smiled at his Mother and closed his eyes for a second.
"Will you tell me a story?" George asked, reopening his eyes.
"A story?" Mary asked, and George nodded. Lady Mary had to wrack her brains for a story she knew off by heart, eventually she opted for Rapunzel, her favourite story as a child.
As she recounted the story, more and more people rushed into the room. First her parents, including her Father - Lord Grantham - who literally had tears in his eyes when Little George opened his eyes to look at his grandparents. Next her husband came and knelt at her side, putting his arm around her in a protective embrace. Then Edith, who sat at the window and watched as George smiled at different parts of the story.
When Mary reached the end of her story George reopened his eyes and looked at her. It haunted her how blue his eyes were, for a moment his face transformed into Matthew's.
"I'm going to sleep now." George announced. And then his breathing was back to normal, his chest rising and falling like it should do. He was still hot but he was breathing.
The Nanny took the cold towel Lady Mary had in her frozen hand and held it to George's forehead. Lady Mary could do nothing but turn to her husband for support. He held her protectively to his chest, wrapping his arms around her whole body. Lady Mary sobbed not only for her son and his terrible illness, but also for the long buried grief of losing Matthew that had just been resurfaced in seeing his face in George's eyes.
By the time Doctor Clarkson had arrived Lady Mary was exhausted. Lack of sleep and worry left her mentally drained. Whilst he assured Mary that George's brief awakening was a good thing, he still had a long way on the road to recovery. But that still struck Lady Mary as a good thing, so she allowed herself to be taken away from her son and get some proper sleep.