When Characters Write Themselves

I've mentioned it here before but sometimes characters write themselves. I always thought authors were ... not really kidding but using hyperbole when they said that, but I'm telling you, that shit is for real. You'll find yourself writing something with absolutely no idea where it's coming from. The story will take off in a direction you never intended. They may be your fingers flying over the keyboard but the words don't seem like they're yours at all.

It can be ... disconcerting, to say the least. Disconcerting and yet, most of the time, awesome as all get-out.

The most recent example I have of this is the latest chapter of my current Once Upon a Time story. It's a series of sequential mid- and post-ep one-shots chronicling Emma finding a place to belong over the course of the first season. Little unseen moments between the scenes.

This conceit of mine became an issue when I got up to "Hat Trick." We spent most of the episode with Emma so unseen moments were few and far between, but there was too much good material within the episode for me to bypass it entirely. I rewatched the episode, found my span of unseen time, and started to write.

And what came out ... that was all Emma and Mary Margaret. It was not me at all. Believe me, I know how it sounds when I say things like that. These people don't really exist, and even if they did exist, they most certainly would not choose to have their conversations through, you know, me. But it does happen, and I don't know that it's something you can fully understand until it happens to you.

I certainly didn't understand it. Hell, it's happened to me more than a few times and I still don't understand it. But it's a real thing that happens and what it results in can be really cool.

Don't believe me? Check out the chapter below, entitled "Family By Choice." And believe me when I tell you that I have no freaking clue where this came from.

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Emma sped as fast as she dared through the streets of Storybrooke. She kept one eye on the road and the other on her speedometer in an effort to keep her violation of the speed limit from becoming too egregious. A race against the clock, however, required some traffic law infractions. And really, who was going to catch her? It wasn't like she was going to write herself a ticket.

She needed to get Mary Margaret back in her cell and then get the hell out of the station before Regina showed up for her snark and gloating session. As of this very moment, Emma certainly looked like she'd spent the night trapped in some crazy guy's house. She needed to change her clothes and perhaps run a brush through her hair so Regina would have no reason to suspect that she and Mary Margaret had gone on a midnight adventure.

"Emma?"

She took her eyes off the road for a split second to glance over at Mary Margaret, who had been sitting quietly in the passenger seat since they left Jefferson's house. Whether consciously or not, the teacher had wrapped her hand around the arm rest. Emma tapped the brakes and slowed down a little bit. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. For running." She inhaled and held the breath for a quick moment. "For everything."

Emma chanced another glance at her roommate and noted with some relief that she had loosened her death grip on the arm rest. "I get it," she replied, returning her attention to the winding road in front of her. "You were scared."

"And when I left, you were hurt."

Emma immediately tensed. Here in this car was neither the time nor the place for this conversation. Then again, as far as Emma was concerned, it would never be time for this conversation. "I was worried for you," she said, hoping the slight shift in direction would distract the teacher. "Running just makes you look guilty, Mary Margaret, and you're not guilty. Not to mention … where did you think you were going to go? What were you planning on doing, hiding out in the woods forever?"

"I hadn't really thought it through that far," she admitted through a sheepish cringe. "But I wasn't apologizing for me. I'm apologizing to you. I hurt you when I left, didn't I?"

Emma groaned inwardly as she rolled her eyes. Why the hell couldn't she just let this drop? "We really don't have time for this, Mary Margaret. If Regina catches us, all the running in the world won't save us."

The second they left her mouth, Emma regretted both the words and the edge in her voice. Mary Margaret flinched then turned her head to stare out the windshield. Swallowing hard, Emma returned her attention to the road and let the silence fill the car.

Mary Margaret's escape had hurt her a little bit. When she first walked into the station to find the empty cell, she'd been so panicked that the way her heart skipped a beat hadn't registered with her. She hadn't really noticed the lump forming in her throat or the ache of her heart at the realization that Mary Margaret had taken off into the night.

What she didn't realize then – but she did now, dammit – was that she'd been devastated at the thought of adding Mary Margaret Blanchard to the long line of people who had left her.

The car skidded around a sharp turn, causing Emma to jam on the brakes and Mary Margaret to once again clutch the arm rest. "Sorry," Emma muttered, stealing a peek at the teacher. "For the turn and for what I said before."

"It's all right," Mary Margaret assured her.

Silence once again settled over them as Emma refocused on the road. This time, though, the silence bothered Emma. Which was odd, because silence very rarely bothered her. She reached down to turn on the radio and caught Mary Margaret watching her out of the corner of her eye. With a sigh, Emma sat back in the seat. "You did hurt me. I understand why you ran, I really do, but I couldn't bear the thought of you being one more person who ran out on me."

Well, that certainly sounded selfish as all get-out. Emma winced and started babbling in an effort to explain. "I know this isn't about me, nor should it be. It's just–"

"I understand what you meant," Mary Margaret interrupted, her voice gentle. "I'm so sorry, Emma. I wasn't taking off on you. I was just … trying to get away."

Emma nodded, swallowing hard. Of course Mary Margaret had simply been afraid. Truthfully, Emma didn't blame her. She really had no freaking clue why she'd taken the teacher's actions so personally.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Outside of Jefferson's house, she'd called Mary Margaret family. When the hell had that happened? She hadn't even realized she felt that way until the word slipped from her mouth.

Earlier, when she'd told Jefferson that she wished Mary Margaret was her mother, she'd simply been playing along with the crazy kidnapper guy. Arguing was clearly not getting her anywhere so she'd tried a different tactic. But maybe there was some element of truth in what she'd told Jefferson. Maybe she did want to believe that Mary Margaret was her mother.

It was impossible, of course, but still. There was something … familiar about Mary Margaret. Familiar and comforting. Emma had always prescribed the woman's ability to know just what to say and her gentle persistence at getting behind her new roommate's wall as side effects of teaching small children for a living. Maybe there was more to it, though.

Mary Margaret had certainly gotten further behind Emma's wall than anyone in recent memory. And to her complete shock, Emma was glad she'd persisted. It was such a relief not to have to be alone anymore. It was terrifying, as if she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but in the rare moments Emma allowed herself to relax, it was also really nice.

Maybe that was why Mary Margaret taking off had thrown her so much. In her mind, the other shoe had finally dropped.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret's soft voice startled Emma out of her mental wandering. "Did you mean what you said back there? About me being family?"

With a heavy breath, Emma glanced down at the radio clock. They really did not have time for this conversation. Well, okay, maybe they had time for it. They were still a good ten minutes from the station and Emma couldn't drive any faster for fear of crashing the damn car. Regardless, Emma did not want to have this discussion, so they weren't going to have it, and that was that.

"I'm sorry," Mary Margaret said when Emma didn't answer. "That was pushy."

"No, it wasn't," Emma rushed to assured her. She stole a glance at her roommate and sighed. They were going to have this discussion, after all, weren't they? Damn. "Look, no matter how I word this, it's just going to end up sounding like something you'd find written on a piece of teenybopper costume jewelry, so I might as well just say it. Discounting Henry, I don't have a family. I never had a mother or a father or sisters or brothers. There was a little boy when I was little who I thought of as a brother but he wasn't really my brother, you know?"

Sweet mother of God, she was rambling. Reel it in, Swan. "I'm just saying, I don't have a ready-made family so I get to choose my family. I chose Matthew when I was six ..." She paused, taking another deep breath. "And I chose you."

Another peek over at Mary Margaret confirmed that although tears had welled in the teacher's eyes, there was no mistaking the touched smile on her face. "You're not going to start crying on me, are you?" Emma asked. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? She practically begged. "I so can't handle crying right now."

At least that got Mary Margaret to chuckle. "I won't start crying on you." There was a beat of silence before she continued softly, "If it makes you feel any better, Emma, I chose you, too."

And that did it. Emma felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She wanted to believe it was simply because she was exhausted after spending all night fighting for her and Mary Margaret's lives and not because what the teacher had said was touching in any way, shape or form. Wanted, but couldn't.

"Emma Swan, don't you start on me now," Mary Margaret teased, a knowing smirk curling on her lips.

At that, Emma finally laughed, grateful for the release of the tension. "I won't, I promise."

They made the rest of the trip to the station in silence. Emma's heart began to race the closer they got, but when the empty parking lot came into view, she let out a heavy breath of relief. They beat Regina. She whipped her own car into her parking space and cut the engine. "We made it," she breathed.

Though Mary Margaret clearly wasn't happy at the prospect of returning to her cell in a few minutes, she too was relieved that they'd beaten the clock. "All right, let's get this over with."

After ducking inside the station, Emma hesitantly locked Mary Margaret back up in the cell. "I've got to get out of here," she told the teacher in a rush. "I want to change my clothes so Regina doesn't suspect I've been out all night. I'll see you at the courthouse for the arraignment, though. You'll be brought back here afterward, and I'll have some breakfast for you by then."

Mary Margaret nodded, taking in all the information Emma had just thrown at her.

She looked so overwhelmed that Emma couldn't resist saying, "It's going to be okay, Mary Margaret."

"I know it will," Mary Margaret replied with a quick nod. "You should go. Regina will be here any minute."

Emma nodded and turned to leave. She was halfway across the bullpen when a plaintive, "Emma?" stopped her. When she turned back to face her prisoner, Mary Margaret gave her a little smile. "I just wanted to say thank you. For caring enough to come looking for me."

A tiny smile curled on Emma's lips as she replied, "Of course. You're family."