Ficlet: All Is Said and Done (1/1)

I've gotta say, I've missed being able to do little things like this. Being able to think of something silly like writing a ficlet for the premiere of Once Upon a Time and actually doing it. Oh, inspiration, please never leave me again.

Title: All Is Said and Done
Summary: Regina didn't know where she was running. She just knew that she had to run. She had to find somewhere to hide.
Word Count: 910 by Works' count.
Spoilers: Takes place during 1x22, "A Land Without Magic."
Characters: Regina Mills, with mentions of Henry, Snow, Emma, and Gold.
Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for safety. Possible trigger warning.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. It's not my fault they created characters that are so much fun to play around with, but I'll return them unharmed!
Author's Note: Happy premiere day! I thought I'd celebrate with a little ficlet. Title and lyrics in italics from "All Is Said and Done" by Vertical Horizon. Enjoy!

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Oh, are you tired of running for your life,

When there’s no one left behind?

Just the chaos in your mind.

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Running in heels was a skill that, even after twenty-eight years, Regina Mills had not perfected. She had simply never seen the need. People ran from her, not the other way around. Now, though, she wished she’d practiced running in heels every once in a while.

She slowed just long enough to pull off her shoes. Much better.

Regina didn’t know where she was running. She just knew that she had to run. She had to find somewhere to hide. Everyone would be searching for her now. The citizens of Storybrooke would be forming a mob any minute now, one perhaps minus the pitchforks and lanterns, but a mob nonetheless. An angry mob out for vengeance, out for blood. Out for her blood.

For the first time in decades, she was scared. Really, truly, curl-up-under-the-covers-and-ride-out-the-storm frightened.

The stitch in her left side forced her to slow down and then stop completely. It took her a moment or two to realize she’d stopped in front of her house. The house she’d spent the first eighteen long years in alone. The house she’d spent the next ten years in with her son. A house, she thought with a pang of sadness, but not a home.

It used to be a home once. Or perhaps it never had been. She wasn’t sure anymore.

With a shaky breath, Regina headed up the walk and climbed the stairs to her front door. Her house was surely the first place everyone would look but … well, to be honest, she didn’t care. Let them come. She’d lost Henry. She’d lost, period. There was nothing left for her anyway.

Losing Henry was bad enough but losing him to Emma Swan, of all people, was devastating. How had Henry come to eat that turnover instead of Emma? What the hell had happened? Oh, gods, Regina had almost killed her own son. She had killed him. If not for Emma, that little boy would be dead right now.

Emma had saved him with true love’s kiss. On the one hand, Regina was forever grateful. On the other hand, she was absolutely disgusted.

She opened the front door, thinking of all the times Henry had slammed it on his way in or out. He’d never slammed the door in anger that she could recall, just in exuberance. Even still, she’d always spoken to him harshly, reminding him that she’d told him countless times to stop slamming the door.

What she wouldn’t give to hear him slam it right now.

She eased the door closed and leaned back against it, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She inhaled deeply. She could still smell a hint of the apple turnover in the air. The aroma she had not long ago equated with eternal victory now turned her stomach.

Somewhat on auto-pilot, she pushed herself away from the door and headed up the stairs, running her hand over the railing. It was only her imagination, she knew, but the railing still felt slightly warm from the last time Henry had grasped it.

When he ran down the stairs and out the door to go to her.

Up the stairs and down the hall she went. Without even realizing where she’d been headed, Regina found herself in Henry’s room. She ran her hand over the dresser, the top of the headboard, and finally his pillow. The pillow smelled like him. She picked it up and held it to her nose. She took a deep breath in and let the tears come.

She’d lost everything. With Henry gone and the curse broken, she’d lost her own chance at a happy ending. Goddamn Snow White and her family! What had Regina ever done to that woman to justify everything she and her child had taken from her? First Snow had taken Daniel and then her father. Then Emma had come along and had taken Graham and now Henry. Everyone she’d ever loved was gone now, ripped from her.

There was nothing left to fight for, and Regina had resigned herself to her fate. She would spend her last moments here, in her son’s room. Maybe being around his things would bring her a tiny bit of solace before the end.

As she set the pillow down, something out the window caught her eye. Something … abnormal. Something that shouldn’t be here, in this land.

Sniffling, she pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the window. She pushed the curtain aside and squinted. Was that … no. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Then it came into focus and she saw that it was. That sneaky little bastard. Gold had taken the egg from Emma, the egg that contained the one bit of magic he’d managed to smuggle into this land. She recalled the tone of his voice when she told him about giving up the rest of her magic to obtain the apple from the Enchanted Forest. Just like she had, he’d made magic from magic.

A grin curled onto her lips as she watched the cloud of pure magic writhe and rush forward, enveloping everything in its wake. She’d thought it was over. She’d thought she’d lost.

She was mistaken.

All was not said and done. Oh, no. It was just getting started.

Her grin grew wider. Let the battle begin.

On Process, and Changing Things Up

Back when I started on the fanfic train, I had a very simple process: write, edit, post. I've mentioned before that I used to do a lot of handwritten work. Mostly that was because I grew up in the Dark Ages before everybody and their mother had a laptop. However, as a college student traveling to and from school on trains and buses four or five days a week, you know what I did have? Waiting time and lots and lots of looseleaf paper.

I'd pull sheets of paper out of the binders I used for class and write on the train or at the station. I would then do a bulk of the editing when I typed up what I'd written. My first drafts are typically very dry; the embellishments come during editing so the handwritten drafts were pretty much just guideposts. So I would write whenever I could, type it up once I got enough written to make it worth it (because this was also back in the Dark Ages when an entire family actually had to share one computer), and then give everything a once- or twice-over before posting it to ... wherever I posted things to. A couple of mailing lists, I think, and a forum community.

Then I joined up at fanfiction.net and they had this nifty little system to divide your story by chapters. So my new process became write chapter x, edit chapter x, post chapter x, write chapter y, edit chapter y, post chapter y. And so on. Which is all well and good but then once in a while I would run into a situation where, three-quarters of the way through the story, I'd get stuck.

Getting stuck now presented a new issue. Since I had been posting works as complete units before, I'd never felt pressure when I got stuck. I'd set it aside for a couple of days and brainstorm and figure a way out of it. Now, though, people were reading my stuff as I wrote it. I didn't want to leave them hanging for too long. Because there are fewer things more frustrating than being really into a story and the author either taking forever to update it or never updating it again.

I mean, I get it. Most fanfic authors are doing this as a hobby. They all have lives outside fanfic and the muse can be extremely fickle. Just because you have inspiration for something now doesn't mean you're going to have inspiration for it a week from now when the show completely screws your plot to hell or your everyday life demands more of your attention. But at the same time, I felt a responsibility to my readers to give them some kind of closure. So I would just ... write an ending. It wouldn't be the ending I really wanted to write, but it was the only ending I could write at that point in time.

After that happened two or three times, I started waiting until I had a few chapters written before I started posting a new story. That way, I would always be a couple chapters ahead of myself, so if I did get stuck, I could release a new chapter on schedule without the undue pressure on myself to get around the stumbling block omgrightnow.

And then, as it happened, I got writers' block. The real and serious writers' block where nothing comes out the way you want and you hate everything you try to write. It lasted close to two very long, very excruciating years. By the time I was ready to try another multi-chapter story, I was afraid of getting a block again, so I decided to change my process yet again. This time, I'd write the whole thing, then edit chapter x, post chapter x, edit chapter y, post chapter y.

At first, that was a really difficult change to make. A large part of the fanfic process for me, especially if I'm writing a story for a new fandom, is the feedback. I love hearing when I'm doing things correctly, obviously, but I also want people to tell me what I'm doing wrong. It helps to refine my writing, and it helps me get a better handle on the characters. "You know, I don't think Sam would really say that to Dean" is just as helpful to hear as "Oh, that was so Sam! Great job!"

Doing things this way, I still got the feedback as I was doing the edits, so I could tweak things that weren't quite working in -- or add things that were working to -- future chapters. It just made the actual drafting phase very tense because I had no idea how it would be received.

With my Once Upon a Time fic, for whatever reason, I've pretty much been throwing caution to the wind. My first story, as I chronicled here, was "Breaking Point." I don't usually write multi-chapter epics the first time out. It's easier for me to get a handle on characterization with oneshots, so I usually do a couple of those first before tackling a multi-chapter, plot-heavy story.

My latest story, "Navigation," was supposed to be a oneshot. The reader response to it was overwhelming, and pretty much everyone asked me to continue it. So I did. I completely flew by the seat of my pants, going back to the write chapter x, edit chapter x, post chapter x process.

I was terrified I wouldn't be able to find a way to tie it all together (because this was not a story I'd intended to continue, there really was no laid-out plotline to follow and I only had a vague notion of what I even wanted to do with it), but apparently what I came up with worked, because the readers seemed to love it.

*whew*

So, yeah. That was an interesting exercise. And by interesting, I mean terrifying, of course. I had a lot of fun, don't get me wrong, and the readers were fantastic and made me feel wonderful. It was maybe just a touch too on-the-spot for comfort. At least going outside my comfort zone presented a nice challenge!