"I'm just not sure, Mary," Bash said, torn between his desire to help her and his desire to keep her safe. "I might agree with Francis on this one."
Mary crossed her arms across her chest in displeasure. She had explained to Bash her need to find the people responsible for her poisoning but he was still reluctant to help her.
"Bash."
He didn't miss the pleading in her voice as his name left her lips.
"If you don't help me I'll just do it alone."
Bash took a deep breath. Francis would have his head if he knew that he was helping Mary, putting her in the direct path of the people who were trying to end her life. But the alternative was letting her try to track them down on her own. If he helped her at least he could protect her along the way.
Bash sighed. "Francis cannot know."
Mary released the breath that had been suffocating her. "Thank you, Bash. You don't know how much this means to me." She reached her arm across the gap separating them and placed the tips of her fingers on the muscle of his arm. The spot grew warm with her touch.
"Give me a day to get started." Mary opened her mouth to protest but Bash raised a finger to hold her off. "Mary you have my word that I will not leave you out of this, but I need one day to get some leads before I go dragging you around the castle aimlessly."
Mary jutted out her bottom lip. She didn't want to be treated like a child but understood Francis and Bash's reluctance to allow her to help.
"Alright," she admitted.
Bash smiled in relief at her cooperation. Keeping Mary safe while helping find answers for her was not going to be easy, but he was willing to do it for her.
"This stays between us, Mary."
She nodded.
"No I mean it. Francis has the power to exile me, to end my life if he sees fit. If anything ever happened to you because of my letting you get involved, he would do it. For you. And I would deserve it."
"Bash," Mary cautioned, stepping towards him. "Nothing is going to happen. Francis is your brother and he loves you. He would never do anything to harm you."
"For you, I think he would. And I wouldn't blame him because I can't say that I wouldn't do the same in his position."
Mary hung her head, emotions swirling, and placed a hand on her stomach to fight the fear that was threatening to choke her. Bash took a step towards her slowly, hesitantly, until they were close enough to touch, reached out a hand and placed his palm against her cool cheek.
"Heed Francis' advice, Mary. Just for today. Stay here and I'll come back when I have more information."
She closed her eyes against the warmth of his skin and his warning, trying to breath sanity back into herself.
"Okay," she conceded. "But only for today."
"That's all I'm asking."
Bash removed his hand and instantly felt the desire to put it back against her, touching her, loving her, protecting her in all the ways he couldn't. With every last ounce of effort he possessed, Bash turned his back to Mary and started to walk away.
"Bash?" she called after him.
He didn't trust himself to turn around and face her. If he looked at her every resolve would soften and he wouldn't be able to stay strong.
"Be careful."
He smiled to the wall, heart swelling, and walked from her rooms.
Mary found it strange to be alone for the first time in awhile. She wasn't particularly enjoying it. It left her mind too much time to wander, to think about the two men who cared about her, and who she cared about in return, putting themselves in danger to track down the people who were trying to kill her. Worry seized her. She wanted to be with them, helping them, so that she could continually know they were safe.
"Why the face, love?"
Mary spun, terror seizing her, and gazed into the face of a man she had never seen before.
"Who are you?" She asked, attempting to keep her voice steady and strong.
He grinned devilishly, his smile a promise of nothing good to come.
"I'm here to help you, love. You don't have to look so scared."
Mary glanced left and right, searching for something she could use as a weapon if needed. But with her back to the door, nothing was within arms reach at short notice. The man continued to pace back and forth, winding his way through furniture in a slow dance towards her.
"Who are you?" Mary repeated.
The smile broke again, his eyes alight with something Mary could not place.
"Let's just say that I was sent here by your cousin."
Mary couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips. Elizabeth had always been afraid of Mary's claim to the English throne. A man sent here at her bequest was troubling.
"What do you want?" She tried to sound strong and unafraid but it came out as a whisper.
He sneered. "Your life, of course."
Mary was shaking, desperately looking for something that could aid her in the inevitable coming attack. "Guards!" She cried.
The man laughed, a deep, bone chilling cackle that broke her soul. "No need, love. They're long gone."
"Guards!" Mary cried again.
The man took three strides towards her and Mary instinctively grabbed the thing closest to her: a long metal fire poker.
"Oh, love," the man sneered. "Nothing will help you now."
He took the last step towards her and swung the long rod in his hand, colliding it with the side of her head in a blinding pain. Mary fell to the floor and wrapped her arms protectively around herself, shielding whatever she could cover with her fragile arms. He laughed again at her frail attempt to protect herself and she pushed her throbbing body into the corner of the room, cradling her head in her hands as her back found the safety of the wall.
"Guards!" She cried again feebly, all hope dwindling from her body. "Francis," she sobbed into her hands, wishing she could see him one last time before this end.
"Say your goodbyes, love," the man laughed.
Mary wrapped her arms around her head, shaking, praying for a salvation she never believed would come. The laugh reached her ears and Mary cringed in knowing that it would be the last sound she ever heard.
"Mary! Mary!"
She wondered if she was dead. She knew this new voice, strong and familiar and brave. Francis' voice. Except the voice was begging, terror laced into every syllable.
"Mary look at me!"
Reality stirred above her. Familiarity broke through the haze of fear. That voice was too real in its perfection to be something imagined in death. Mary wanted to look up but horror kept her face in the palm of her hands.
"Mary, please." The voice was pleading desperately, filled with anxiousness and longing.
She could feel hands, warm and soft and familiar against the cool skin of her arms, desperate in their desire. She swallowed and mustered every ounce of courage she had, lifting her head from her arms and gazing into the face of salvation.
"Francis?" She asked, sobs threatening to choke her.
"Mary." The relief was palpable in Francis' voice as his hands found either side of her face, wet with tears as he stroked his thumbs across the pale skin. "Mary what happened?"
"He was here, Francis. Some man they sent to kill me."
Francis sat on the floor next to her, one hand wiping away the falling tears from her eyes, the other stroking soft lines into the bare skin of her arm.
"There's no one here, Mary, I promise. No one at all. It's the belladonna. There's still some in you. You're safe."
She shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes. "No, Francis. It was real. I swear it."
He pulled her shaking body towards him. "It's okay, Mary. No one is going to hurt you. Not while I'm here."
She craned her neck from his chest up to meet his face, wanting more than anything to believe that she had imagined the whole thing but not daring to.
"Francis, please," she begged.
Confusion and concern knit itself between his eyes. "Please, what?" he asked, not knowing what she wanted.
"Please. I need to know that you're really here." Reality was something she found little comfort it because there was no definition of it for her. Things that she was resolutely sure had happened were dreams, hallucinations made up by her mind, by the drugs. Mary found it hard to accept that anything was real anymore with no boundaries between fantasy and reality.
Francis' heart sunk with his desire to protect her and keep her safe. Slowly and gently he brought his face down to meet hers, pressing his warm lips against her cold ones, hoping to bring reality back to her with his kiss.
"Do you believe I'm real now?" He asked carefully.
Mary closed her eyes, wanting to believe but wishing for more. "I need more," Mary whispered.
Francis smiled and with that smile Mary found her reality in him. He brought himself down to her again and pressed his lips against hers, happily obliging.