I just rewatched this episode and one of my favorite scenes of season 1 was when Mary Margaret tore Emma a new one after she returned from kidnapping Henry. It was just SO like a lecture a mother would give a daughter who is being stupid, and Ginnifer played it perfectly. I really think that as the end of the curse drew near, some of Snow's real personality leaked more and more into Mary Margaret's. This is just me filling in a little bit of the before and after the conversation that happened on the show. Enjoy!

Mary Margaret awoke slowly, rolling stubbornly away from the sunlight beaming in through her window. Most mornings she bounced right out of bed, usually a full fifteen minutes before her alarm went off, but this morning she wished she could just stay under her covers a little longer.

But get up she did. She'd only been back at work a couple of weeks, and she was glad, but it wasn't quite the same as it was before. Before she had been content and satisfied in her work. But now, as happy as she was to see the kids again and get back into the swing of things, she felt oddly restless and just…well…off.

She marveled at all she'd been through the past month or so. First the disaster with David, then his wife disappearing, then being arrested for murder, then being kidnapped by a madman, then Katherine reappears and she was cleared of all charges. Yes, it was a hell of a month, but at least she didn't have to go through it alone.

For that, she would be eternally grateful to Emma.

On that thought, and since it was still early, she decided to see if Emma wanted some pancakes.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret called up the stairs. "Em, you awake?"

There was no answer, and Mary Margaret knew good and well that Emma could sleep through an atom bomb, so she shook her head with grin and went about making the pancakes. Usually the smell of bacon and coffee got her roommate up and going.

Mary Margaret knew she shouldn't make it her job to make sure Emma got up on time every morning. She was grown woman for crying out loud, and had been taking care of herself for longer than any twenty-eight year old person should. But maybe that's why Mary Margaret felt the desire to take care of her a little. It wasn't like Emma took advantage. She paid half the rent and the entire water bill. She did a lot of the grocery shopping and jumped at every errand that Mary Margaret so much as hinted at. And she came to her rescue from every spider. So doing Emma's laundry, cooking dinner for the both of them, and silently picking up after her wasn't a chore. Besides, Emma hated cooking, laundry, and picking up her jacket and shoes, and Mary Margaret didn't mind a bit. Every spider Emma killed made it more than worth it.

Emma also hated waking up early, but she had to be at work early, so not long after Emma started working at the sheriff's station Mary Margaret had wordlessly taken it upon herself to drag her roommate out of bed each morning. And sometimes, dragging was meant literally.

Mary Margaret chuckled as she flipped a pancake. The typical morning routine was Mary Margaret showered and dressed, then first called up the stairs. When that didn't work, (and it never did,) she'd either start breakfast, or on busy mornings skipped to the third step which was go upstairs and stick her head in Emma's room, sweetly telling her she had one last chance. Half the time Emma would finally get the message and groan and roll out of bed. The other half of the time, Emma would pull the cover over her head and mumble some curse words.

That was when Mary Margaret got serious.

She would leap onto the bed, singing a non-sense good-morning song as loudly as she could, rip away the covers and generally pester the woman mercilessly until she finally got up.

If Mary Margaret didn't know better, she could swear that Emma sometimes deliberately stayed in bed until being forced awake. It was the barely concealed grin on Emma's face and choked-back laugh that gave her away, despite grumblings about Mary Margaret being "annoyingly perky" in the morning.

"Five more minutes, Mom," Emma had mumbled groggily just a few mornings ago.

Mary Margaret laughed. "Wouldn't Henry just love to hear you now?" Emma chortled and rolled her eyes.

Well, the bacon and coffee smell wasn't doing it today, so Mary Margaret turned the burners off and tip-toed upstairs.

"Emma…" she sang cheerfully.

But when she turned the corner into Emma's room, she was surprised and confused to find an empty bed.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret called, looking around the room. She must have left before Mary Margaret woke up, but that was unusual. As was getting out of the house without waking her. Unlike Emma, Mary Margaret was a very light sleeper.

Light sleeper mixed with the bull-in-a-china-cabinet that is Emma Swan meant the Sheriff never got past her.

Mary Margaret propped her hands on her hips and shrugged. She was just about to go back downstairs when she realized something was different about the room.

First of all, the bed was perfectly made.

Emma never made her bed.

Mary Margaret walked fully into the room, and her heart began to beat a little faster the more it became clear that everything that made the room Emma's seems to be gone.

"What…" she muttered, thoroughly snooping now.

She opened Emma's wardrobe, the one they picked out together in the thrift store since the bedroom lacked a closet. It was empty.

She ran to Emma's bed and knelt down, looking under it. Her suitcases were gone.

Mary Margaret didn't understand. Where did she go? If she had to go out of town, why wouldn't she say something? Her mind was refusing to believe the obvious.

Finally she sat down heavily on the bed. Even the pillows were arranged just like Mary Margaret always arranged them for her. Tears stung her eyes. Maybe Emma never made her bed, but she had obviously paid attention to the way Mary Margaret did it.

On a last-ditch chance that maybe there was a misunderstanding and maybe Emma had told her she wasn't going away for a couple of days and Mary Margaret just forgot, she tossed away the frilly, floral decorative pillows that she seriously doubted Emma liked, yet she never complained about them or got rid of them, then stuck her hand under the lumpy feather one Emma favored.

Since Mary Margaret made Emma's bed and changed the sheets, it didn't take long to find out that Emma had taken to keeping her baby blanket under her pillow. She had a suspicion that it was an old habit that had maybe recently resurfaced due to Henry being in her life. When Mary Margaret made the bed she would reverently set the blanket on a chair, and then carefully fold it up and return it to its place under the pillow. Neither of them ever said a word about it.

The tears that had been stinging her eyes began rolling down her cheeks. The blanket was gone too. That meant Emma was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

She sat on the bed for some time, running through the last few days over and over in her head, trying to figure out if Emma had given any indication that was going to just up and leave like this. Emma had been anxious and upset ever since Mary Margaret came home from jail, trying to figure out how to get Henry away from Regina. Mary Margaret had been nothing but supportive, though she had to admit she'd been a little wrapped up in her own drama with David.

But how, after everything could she just leave? She loved Henry, she loved him more than life, how could she just give up and run away?

And how…how could she not tell her? Mary Margaret thought that they were friends…best friends. How could Emma leave and not even say goodbye?

She didn't even say goodbye!

Suddenly angry, Mary Margaret tore through the room, then ran downstairs and looked everywhere for a note. Emma wouldn't just leave without at least doing that.

She checked the fridge, the counter, the table by the door, her nightstand, the bathroom, the coffee table, her coat pocket for goodness' sake. Nothing.

All that was left that even showed that Emma Swan had ever lived there was a handful of possessions she supposed that she forgot or didn't take the time to pack, like her coffee mug, a pair sunglasses, bathroom toiletries and a stack of clean laundry that was still in the basket by Mary Margaret's bed.

She was a little surprised to find Emma's iPod and stereo still sitting on the kitchen counter. Surely she must have forgotten it. (Or maybe she left it on purpose, since Mary Margaret had taken to using it even more often than Emma.)

Mary Margaret plopped down on a kitchen chair. She was crushed. More than angry at the idiotic woman for abandoning her job, responsibilities, friends and son, she was absolutely crushed that she couldn't at least have said goodbye to her if no one else.

'I can't lose that, I cannot lose my family!'

Emma's words rang through Mary Margaret's mind. She'd said that they were family. Family didn't do this to each other!

She knew Emma's past, possibly better than most. She knew that she'd grown up without anyone to really call 'family.' But Emma didn't hold the monopoly on being alone, even if maybe she thought she did.

Mary Margaret didn't have family either. Her parents were long gone. She had no brothers or sisters. If she had aunts, uncles, cousins or whatever she didn't know. She had friends, but no one she could really talk to, no one that she could open up to and share everything.

No one, until Emma.

If she told Emma something secret, she knew that it would stay secret. Emma never patronized her or made her feel stupid for the mistakes she'd made. She was there for her when everyone, even David, had turned their backs on her. She listened, she understood, she cared. She was the sister she'd never had and always wanted.

Maybe they weren't really family like Henry thought, but damn it they weren't all each other had and now Emma was running and Mary Margaret was alone again.

Mary Margaret didn't think she couldn't handle going back to the way things were before Emma came to town. An empty apartment, silent dinners for one, no one to care if she even came home at night at all.

"Damn it, Emma," she hissed, getting up to throw the cold pancakes and bacon away.

She cursed again when she looked at the clock and realized she was late for work. But she just didn't feel like she could face that room of smiling faces now, so cursing Emma yet again she called in. The substitute was only too happy to step in, saying she knew that Mary Margaret was still 'adjusting.'

Adjusting to what? Life outside of prison? Because her week in the slammer really changed her?

On impulse she called Granny, asking if she'd seen Emma. She hadn't, so Mary Margaret smilingly told her it was no big deal and hung up.

She sat back at the kitchen counter and tried to think if she was really surprised or not. Emma had been a floater all her life, never staying one place too long. Maybe Mary Margaret was presumptuous to think that she'd changed.

A flash of bitter anger overcame her and her hand shot out, swiping the closest item to her off of the counter to shatter on the floor.

When the haze cleared she blinked down at the floor, tearing up again when she realized that she'd just broken the toaster Emma had recently bought to replace the one that she broke.

She got down on her knees and cried as she picked up the pieces, calling herself all kinds of stupid for getting this upset. It wasn't the end of the world. Life would still go one without Emma Swan.

After a few minutes of sitting on the floor, Mary Margaret shook herself mentally and physically and got back up. She was going to make herself breakfast and wait for that idiot to call, and if she didn't, she was going to pack up and drive to Boston and either drag her ass back to Storybrooke or at least drag an explanation out of her. She deserved that at least.

In the back of her mind was the worry that maybe Emma didn't go to Boston and maybe Mary Margaret wouldn't be able to find her, but she ignored it for now. She also ignored the biting worry that whatever caused Emma to bolt was hurting the deceptively sensitive woman, and Mary Margaret wasn't around to help her.

So Mary Margaret made herself breakfast. Not pancakes, just some toast and jam. She was pouring herself some orange juice when the door suddenly opened, scaring her out of her wits.

She looked up quickly, her shoulders sagging with relief but then immediately tensing up in anger as Emma waltzed in the door, lugging her suitcases.

Mary Margaret stared for a second, relief warring with irritation, taking in Emma's sheepish expression and refusal to make eye contact.

"Oh," Mary Margaret said breezily, looking down and occupying herself with her juice and coffee. She refused to give in to her impulse to hug the blasted woman. "I thought you left."

Emma dropped her bags, her posture hunched and defensive, the way she looked when they first met. "Mary Margaret…"

She tried, tried hard to keep the fury out of her voice, but it started to slip with every word. "But I couldn't tell for sure, because you didn't bother to say goodbye," she looked up then, locking her eyes on Emma's, letting her see the hurt. The other woman's gaze flitted about, unable to maintain eye contact. "Do you remember what you said when I left? When I ran?" Emma tensed further, wincing, but Mary Margaret wasn't about to let her off easy. "You said we have to stick together. That we're like…" she waited until Emma's eyes finally met hers. "Family."

Emma sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left."

Mary Margaret let her hands fall to the counter, feeling them smack louder than she intended. "You're right! You shouldn't have! So why, after everything did you just…go?!"

"I don't want to be Sheriff," Emma said defensively, and Mary Margaret could see the hunted, scared look in her eyes. That look that made her look like a little girl. The look that broke Mary Margaret's heart every damn time. "I don't want people relying on me. I don't want this. Any of it."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. Honestly, she was acting like a teenager! "What about Henry?"

Emma chewed on the inside of her cheek and took a step back. "I took him with me."

For a moment she was speechless, blown away by what Emma had just said. Never before had she been in the face of such supreme idiocy. "You abducted him."

Emma frowned guiltily. "Maybe."

"So, you don't want people to rely on you, but you took your son?" now Mary Margaret was just plain seething, and she allowed biting sarcasm to drift into her voice. "Now, that sounds like a stable home for him," Emma was still standing like a child caught sneaking in the front door after curfew and Mary Margaret could have just strangled her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Emma flinched at the harsh words, but recovered quickly. "I want what's best for him."

"And running is what's best for him?! Or, is that what's best for you?" she felt a rush of satisfaction from Emma's expression. "You're reverting, Emma, into the person you were before you got here!" she shook her head. "And I thought you'd changed."

Emma glared at her. "You thought wrong."

Mary Margaret swallowed the disappointment those words brought her. "Well, regardless, you have to do what's right for Henry now."

"What's that?" Emma asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Mary Margaret could have laughed, but she just shook her head again and picked up her coffee. "Oh, I don't know. You're his mother. That's your job. So you figure it out!"

Emma sniffed, and Mary Margaret almost lost all of her resolve at the sight of Emma fighting back tears. "I'm sorry, Mary Margaret," she whispered.

"Yeah? Well you should be," she set down her coffee mug, worried by her sudden desire to throw it against a wall. Since when did she become so violent in her anger? Apparently Emma was rubbing off on her. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt? Waking up and finding you just…gone, without so much as a note?"

"I was going to leave a note, I just…I didn't know what to say. And I didn't want you involved in any way. I couldn't have you getting in trouble for something I did."

"So you would have left, and I wouldn't have ever known what became of you or Henry?"

Emma didn't respond, just kept shifting her weight back and forth, her hands firmly in her pockets.

"I can't stay here," Mary Margaret threw up her hands, abandoning her breakfast for the second time that morning. "I'm going to work. You either grow some common sense by the time I come home or don't be here."

"You don't mean that," Emma said weakly.

Mary Margaret froze at the door, her hand hovering over the doorknob. No, no matter how furious she was at Emma, there was no way she could turn her back on her when she was so clearly hurting. Too many people had done that to the both of them.

"Of course not," she said softly, hanging her purse and jacket back up and turning around, arms crossed. "Of course I don't want you gone. I was devastated when I found you gone."

"You were?" Emma asked, obvious disbelief in her voice.

"Of course I was! How did you feel when I ran?"

Emma sniffed again. "Awful."

"Well, that's how I felt and you didn't even have a murder charge on you for an excuse!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I'm not used to having someone to answer to!"

Mary Margaret sighed heavily. "You don't have to answer to me. Contrary to what Henry believes I'm not your mother. But I care about you, Emma! You're my best friend, and whether you like it or not you can no longer just up and move away without people worrying about you!"

"I know."

They were both silent for some time, each standing folded in on themselves. Finally Mary Margaret couldn't take it anymore. She just wasn't the grudge type. "You must be hungry. Do you want some breakfast?"

Emma nodded sullenly. As Mary Margaret moved past her to get to the kitchen, she was suddenly caught up in an impulsive hug. Emma's arms reached out to her, wrapping around her shoulders and squeezing tight.

Mary Margaret's arms came up automatically after a moment of shock, and the last bit of anger drained away. "Promise me you'll never do that again, Emma Swan."

"I promise," Emma mumbled. "I can't promise I'll stay…I just…this whole thing with Regina can't keep on like this and if I can't have Henry I don't think it's best if I stay, but I promise I'll never leave without saying goodbye."

Mary Margaret released her. The anger didn't return but the hurt did, along with the fear that Emma might really leave for good. But they would get to that when they got to that.

For now, Mary Margaret would make pancakes. And no one but the two of them would need to know that she put chocolate chip smiley-faces on Emma's.