Evolution
word count 640
rating: PG
warnings: spoilers for s13e22, reference to previous temporary character death
characters/pairing: Mary, Ketch, AU!Charlie, mentions of BMoL gen
summary: missing scene from the bunker at the end of s13e22
She knew the exact moment he became aware of her approach.
The sure hands wrapping gauze around a refugee’s leg faltered.
It lasted only a fraction of a second, and by the time he looked up at man whose leg he worked on, the cool and professional mask was once again in place.
He finished with his patient, rattling off the list of signs and symptoms that would indicate that professional medical attention was needed.
The man staggered off to his assigned room down the hall.
Ketch turned toward her, and his face softened when he said her name. “Mary. Do you have any injuries that need tending?” He gestured toward the first aid kit beside him.
“No.” She shook her head, confused.
“I’m glad you are safe and well.” He nodded with a slight smile.
His reaction answered her unspoken question, but left her with more. “You were there because of me? You came to rescue me?”
“I came to rescue you, and whomever else could be saved, and try to put the Devil back in his box.” He answered.
“I killed you.” She frowned, shaking her head.
“You did.” He agreed. “It obviously didn’t stick. That tends to happen around here.”
“I killed you, and you came for me.” She repeated.
“I did.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I am glad you are safe. And I’m glad you’re still trying to have it all.”
He stood, gave her a slight smile, and walked past her down the hall.
“Whoa.” Someone said from over in the corner.
It was the redhead, Charlie, one of the rebel leaders who had been captured while on a mission with Ketch, and apparently the counterpart of a hunter who had died while working with Dean and Sam.
Mary choked back her more sarcastic first comment, and said instead. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that he's a good man.”
“No.” Charlie shook her head. “He’s a cold-hearted bastard, but he's crazy about you for some reason.”
Mary scoffed "He really doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.”
"He doesn't care about himself." Charlie told her. "He was willing to die to take down Lucifer and save you."
“This doesn’t … “ Mary began. “There’s a lot you don’t know about him. The people he’s killed. The things he’s done on behalf of the British Men of Letters."
“I know that the British Men of Letters took him out of the foster care system when he was a child.” Charlie hopped down off the table she had been sitting on and walked over to Mary. “They trained him his whole life to be an assassin. And now he’s parted company with them. He has no idea who he is if he isn’t their attack dog. Arthur Ketch isn’t even his real name.”
“What is his real name?” Mary asked, a bit taken aback.
“No idea.” Charlie shrugged. “He didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. Charlie Bradbury isn’t my real name either. Similar story, except that I took myself out of foster care and didn’t train to kill anyone until the world tried to end.”
“Pillow talk?” Mary asked a little more snidely than she had meant to.
Charlie rolled her eyes. “He’s not my type. More like foxhole conversations.”
“Well, whatever he said, he really doesn’t care about me.” Mary shook her head and started to turn away.
“I can tell you two things.” Charlie said to Mary’s back. “Number one, he’s floundering. He has to figure out who he is without the Brits telling him. Number two, his face lights up when he talks about you and he came to save you in a hopeless world after you killed him in this one. Whatever you do with that information, it’s on you.”
Mary stood there a long time after Charlie left the room.
rating: PG
warnings: spoilers for s13e22, reference to previous temporary character death
characters/pairing: Mary, Ketch, AU!Charlie, mentions of BMoL gen
summary: missing scene from the bunker at the end of s13e22
She knew the exact moment he became aware of her approach.
The sure hands wrapping gauze around a refugee’s leg faltered.
It lasted only a fraction of a second, and by the time he looked up at man whose leg he worked on, the cool and professional mask was once again in place.
He finished with his patient, rattling off the list of signs and symptoms that would indicate that professional medical attention was needed.
The man staggered off to his assigned room down the hall.
Ketch turned toward her, and his face softened when he said her name. “Mary. Do you have any injuries that need tending?” He gestured toward the first aid kit beside him.
“No.” She shook her head, confused.
“I’m glad you are safe and well.” He nodded with a slight smile.
His reaction answered her unspoken question, but left her with more. “You were there because of me? You came to rescue me?”
“I came to rescue you, and whomever else could be saved, and try to put the Devil back in his box.” He answered.
“I killed you.” She frowned, shaking her head.
“You did.” He agreed. “It obviously didn’t stick. That tends to happen around here.”
“I killed you, and you came for me.” She repeated.
“I did.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I am glad you are safe. And I’m glad you’re still trying to have it all.”
He stood, gave her a slight smile, and walked past her down the hall.
“Whoa.” Someone said from over in the corner.
It was the redhead, Charlie, one of the rebel leaders who had been captured while on a mission with Ketch, and apparently the counterpart of a hunter who had died while working with Dean and Sam.
Mary choked back her more sarcastic first comment, and said instead. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that he's a good man.”
“No.” Charlie shook her head. “He’s a cold-hearted bastard, but he's crazy about you for some reason.”
Mary scoffed "He really doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.”
"He doesn't care about himself." Charlie told her. "He was willing to die to take down Lucifer and save you."
“This doesn’t … “ Mary began. “There’s a lot you don’t know about him. The people he’s killed. The things he’s done on behalf of the British Men of Letters."
“I know that the British Men of Letters took him out of the foster care system when he was a child.” Charlie hopped down off the table she had been sitting on and walked over to Mary. “They trained him his whole life to be an assassin. And now he’s parted company with them. He has no idea who he is if he isn’t their attack dog. Arthur Ketch isn’t even his real name.”
“What is his real name?” Mary asked, a bit taken aback.
“No idea.” Charlie shrugged. “He didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. Charlie Bradbury isn’t my real name either. Similar story, except that I took myself out of foster care and didn’t train to kill anyone until the world tried to end.”
“Pillow talk?” Mary asked a little more snidely than she had meant to.
Charlie rolled her eyes. “He’s not my type. More like foxhole conversations.”
“Well, whatever he said, he really doesn’t care about me.” Mary shook her head and started to turn away.
“I can tell you two things.” Charlie said to Mary’s back. “Number one, he’s floundering. He has to figure out who he is without the Brits telling him. Number two, his face lights up when he talks about you and he came to save you in a hopeless world after you killed him in this one. Whatever you do with that information, it’s on you.”
Mary stood there a long time after Charlie left the room.