The Convergence Secret Santa 2016
For: Mac / Kayla.
Character: Mary Morstan.
Other Characters Used: John Watson.
Rating: K+.
Genres: Drama. Romance. Hurt-Comfort.
Message to your person: Merry Christmas! Mary Watson from Sherlock is a character that seems highly underrated in many of the aspects of the fandom and so here is a small tidbit inspired by your amazing interpretation and dedication to the character. Hope you enjoy it, and have a blessed holiday season.
To Keep It Safe
Blonde girl looking up into a gray sky, tiny white flakes falling upon her face; dreaming of one day being as pure as snow. Blonde woman looking up into gray-blue eyes, tears running down her face; adoring the joy of having something as pure as snow. It's too late for Mary to be the innocence of freshly-fallen snow. But she can be its keeper. And she can keep it safe.
Adeline. Garda. Raelene. Ashman.
Adeline Garda Raelene Ashman. It's a long row of syllables and tones, and it takes more than just a simple roll of the tongue to sweep the name from the throat to the lips. Her parents must think a long name will mean a long stretch of good, solid future for their daughter. The daughter herself is not a fan. It's too complicated; it's so long and yet feels rather empty. When Adeline hears her name, in her mind she sees a successful woman, perhaps a prosecutor or wealthy business woman, tapping her way down New York City in long black spike heels and her hair all in a bun. Crisp. Trapped in a rut that most people find themselves ensnared in, and the very idea makes her cringe. Adeline doesn't know what she plans to do when she grows older, but she won't "go into that flow"; and she certainly won't drown in it.
She doesn't mind the cold – but she dislikes the crisp. Neat and formal isn't her way, and Adeline much rather prefers to be scattered and wild, cool but free. A little blonde girl standing in the small pocket of woods behind her house, staring up at a large gray expanse as white flakes flurry down onto her face… six-years-old is quite a young age to decide what one wants to be when they grow up, but Adeline makes her mind right then and there. She wants to be winter; she wants to be as free and wild as the snow, but just as pure. She loves the snow, tries ever so hard to catch those perfect, pure-white flakes in her hands; but they melt away as soon as they touch her eager little fingers, disappear as soon as they land upon bright pink flesh. The sting of this failure is only ever momentary – eventually, she'll be just like a snowflake herself. She's determined.
Childish wonder keeps Adeline going. And that long name, Adeline Garda Raelene Ashman, kicks off that long journey, whether she likes it or not.
It turns out, Adeline doesn't have to worry about being 'crisp' and 'going with the flow' after all. It's a whirlwind life, just as she wanted; but it's not what she expected. It's not what she predicted. After all, what girl pictures herself years later in a black jumpsuit, bright blue eyes frosted over with cold ice, not soft snow – hands in gloves, and guns in hands. That long name grows ever longer; morphing, like a snake that grows and grows until it gets tangled in the brush and mangle of life that surrounds it. Warping, twisting. The ice grows thicker; it's harder to feel that same love of winter.
There are a few nights though – a few Christmas Eve's spent tucked away in an apartment building or motel room that she'll call home one day and call the past the next. A drink in hand, some half-memorized Christmas tunes in the mind. Whatever name that Adeline is using at the moment looms like a spider on a thread, just above her heart; never landing. Adeline goes through names like those successful women in New York, with the long spiked black heels, go through new shoes. And the one name that she knows will stick the moment she dares to tease it over her heart, she keeps at arm's length. Not yet. Not until the ice has melted and a fresh, pure-white flurry enters her life will she even think about adopting it. The name is too pure for an assassin's life – for now, Adeline will continue on with the Barbara's and Samantha's and Edith's and Janet's. The name will have to wait – she's content with merely flirting with the thought of it in her head, and the hum of it as it flutters across a few Christmas tunes playing on the old radio nearby.
Mary, did you know…
It came to her as a little twelve-year-old girl, a name that to her ears sounded as innocent and pure as a snowflake. Led by the wrinkled old hand of a grandmother living off of familial love and that belief in God and Faith that old grandmother's seemed to always have, young Adeline Ashman stepped into the cathedral dressed in a white gown and veil for one of the few times that she, a 'Christmas and Easter church attender' came to walk between the pews before the altar. That memory blurred together with other childhood memories, like birthdays and holidays and snow days and vacation days – but she does remember the statue. Of a tall young woman dressed in a snow-white garment, innocently looking up towards the heavens, porcelain face serene and acquitted. It's the type of expression Adeline wants to bear one day; the exact type of purity that a snowflake holds. Eventually, when grandmother stops being able to take her to that cathedral, memories of the old church blur just like all the others – but Adeline remembers the statue. She remembers the name of the young woman in the statue as well: Mary.
It's a special name. Short and sweet. Innocent. As a child, Mary had decided that a( if she ever had a pet fawn, she would call it Mary, not Bambi; and b( one day, she's going to take on that name for herself. Hang up the long garland that is Adeline Garda Raelene Ashman, and pick the name "Mary" just as one would pluck a sweet berry off of a bush. She just needed to wait for the right time, the perfect time; when she can finally say that she grew up to be just what she wanted to be as a small child.
Adulthood isn't kind to her. That perfect time doesn't come quite so easily – there's nothing short, and there's nothing innocent, and there's nothing sweet about the tasks that Adeline Ashman performs in her cool and wild lifestyle. And how dare she taint that one last precious thing in her mind that isn't stained with blood and guilt and ice – just one name that is nestled somewhere in the back of her mind, waiting for its chance to stand on top of all the Margaret's and Beatrice's and Annabeth's.
Countless Christmas's pass. Countless kills.
When the long road, spurred on by a long name, begins to wind down for the little blonde girl turned weary blonde woman, she finds herself in a place not of death (not really) but of healing. Sick people come in; healthy people leave. Most of the time. Most of the time is so much better than never.
A blue-eyed woman, with a tired smile, and a love of winters and the color yellow, applies for a job at the small medical office tucked away in the heart of Europe. She's had medical training. Yes, much experience. The resume is false, but the knowledge is not. A name? Ah, yes. What a coincidence, the woman says with a soft grin. It's the same as the hospital's - and the hospital's is St. Mary's.
Adeline Garda Raelene Ashman disappears. Mary Elaine Morstan is hired.
Adeline Garda Raelene Ashman kills. Mary Elaine Morstan heals.
Its Mary Morstan that is there to greet the newest doctor into the system – a tired, haggard, grieving looking man. He has this flimsy little mustache that is just beginning to grow in (how funny it looks) and there are lines in his face that were put there by experience, not time. It's his greeting smile that catches her attention, and the light that shimmers behind it that holds it. He's not a happy man, when she meets him; but little things stay happy when they are, as Mary soon learns, as pure and warm as John Hamish Watson.
A girl born with such a long name as her own was never meant to have the short, sweet, innocent life that matches something like a snowflake – Mary is a smart woman, and was an even smarter young girl. That dream was buried beneath paperwork and road trips and reality when she was thirteen. Adeline went and took the underground route, secretive, collected; and that's the reason why Mary Morstan and John Watson could both kill, but only one keep that childish sparkle in their eyes.
John Watson did not lie to kill. He did not keep collected afterwards, but rather, tossed and turned for years afterward. John Watson is something that a young Mary had dreamed of being, and something that it's too late for an adult Mary to be.
But oh. Mary loves this 'snowflake' just as much as Adeline had loved the ones that fell from the sky – and unlike her failures back then, she will catch this one. And she will never let go.
She almost does. That moment when Sherlock Holmes leads her into that dank corridor, and her new husband rises to his feet with an expression that terrifies her to her very core. She almost lets go right then and there, as she feels her snowflake melt away from her hands, disappearing from her fingers, ebbing away forever.
Mary doesn't let go, though. Instead, she clamps down hard, and hopes, and prays as this time, she surrounds her snowflake with all the warmth that she can muster, instead of holding back. And with the exhale of shaky breath, a sigh that parts from her lips in the quiet living room of the house of 'Mummy and Daddy Holmes', the ice of Adeline Garda Raelene Ashman ends up melting away. Just as the flash drive painted with those initials melts in the fireplace, her snowflake's sharp blue gaze planted on her, firmly. More of those little lines, around his mouth, on his forehead. Still soft, however. John Watson is somehow still as soft as a flurry.
Is Mary Watson enough for you?
He doesn't know what he's asking her. Mary took on the name of her dreams years before, as she stepped into the hospital for the first time, and handed in a handful of lies and knowledge. But only now does it land and meld secure to her soul as suddenly, her vision blurs. Adeline Ashman doesn't cry, certainly not for symbolism and sentiment – but apparently, Mary does. Especially on emotionally-compromising Christmas Eve's.
"Yes. Oh. Yes."
Her fingers roam over the expanse of her swollen abdomen, to feel a small kick from the life inside of her. The golden thread that somehow, miraculously, allows her to catch her snowflake, and keep him close.
It's too late for Mary Watson to be the innocence of freshly-fallen snow. But she can be its keeper.
A smile creeps along her lips as her eyes close, suddenly very tired. She's pulled into John Watson's arms, and she nestles there, content, surrounded by his arms, and her child's presence.
And she can keep it safe.
Disclaimer: The Convergence Roleplay and any themes related to it belong to Rhya and Lena (links on profile). All OC's belong to their respective creators, all Canon Characters belong to their respective franchises and all credit for the fic itself goes to the Santa who wrote it.
The Convergence Roleplay: Trapped in a new world, with no way out. Characters from 19 different worlds have been brought together and must struggle in a world that constantly creates more mysteries than it solves. With no new answers ever coming to light, they must start to wonder - is there really a reason why they're here?
The Convergence is a multifandom roleplay, featuring Supernatural, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Vampire Diaries, The Hunger Games, Merlin, Once Upon a Time, Divergence, Fox MCU, Star Trek, The Maze Runner, the DC Extended and Television Universes, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Mortal Instruments and House M.D and the various spin-offs. Check out the link in the profile for more information!