In Storybrooke, Mr. Gold strives to be the man Bae used to love--until Belle is kidnapped to Neverland. If he resumes his Dark One powers to save her, can he control them? In the Enchanted Forest, Emma battles ogres, zombies and her ex to get back h...
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Emma: I don't need anything (Desperate Souls).
Mr. Gold lay on the pavement, dazed from his impromptu flight. If he could just sit up, he'd be able to clear his head. But as soon as he raised himself, just a little, Pinocchio was crouching by his side, pushing him back down while speaking urgently into his cell phone.
Mr. Gold saw concern in Pinocchio's pale blue eyes as he ended his call, jammed his cell in his leather jacket and leaned forward. "Don't move. Not till the EMT's check you out. If you have a spinal injury, you're risking paralysis."
Mr. Gold grimaced. Already, he could hear sirens. "No ambulance. I don't have a good relationship with the medical establishment. "I'd rather die than have Dr. Whale hear I need science.
"I also called the sheriff," Pinocchio added. "I think you were struck intentionally."
"Charming will say I had it coming." He stretched his good leg out and reached down to straighten his lame one. Nothing broken. Again, he began propping himself up. When Pinocchio reached over to press him flat again, Mr. Gold scowled. "Don't make me zap you."
Pinocchio smiled faintly and leaned back on his haunches. "So, do you have a good relationship with anybody?"
Mr. Gold narrowed his eyes. Being slammed by a car was enough aggravation for one day. Sitting at last, he assessed his situation. Not only was a second suit ruined, but his raincoat as well. And worse, half of his cane lay splintered nearby while the half with the brass head lay on the other side of the brightly lit intersection. Soon one of the gawkers would snatch it as a trophy. No matter. The only essential was Ruby's enchanted scarf. Seeing the black-and-silver twill several yards away, he pointed to it. "Please. Could you retrieve that for me?"
Pinocchio jumped to his feet and strode over to it. He held it up with a quizzical look, apparently wondering why Mr. Gold had such a feminine accessory.
"Not mine," he said hastily. "Ruby's. I'm returning it to her."
Pinocchio's sudden grin said, Oh, you lucky dog.
Mr. Gold rolled his eyes. Did Pinocchio think the young lady had forgotten it after a night of passion? Ridiculous.
Mr. Gold was almost glad when the ambulance pulled in between them—until a plump old woman and a frizzy-haired youth began dragging a stretcher out the back. Off the ambulance, its wheels dropped and the EMTs rolled it forward. In a moment, they lowered the contraption beside him.
"I don't need that. If I could just get some assistance standing—"
"Hold your horses," said the uniformed woman. "We'll examine your legs shortly. First, let me check your pulse."
Mr. Gold pushed her hand away. "Don't you know who I am?"
When the gray-haired woman folded her arms, something about her glare looked familiar. "Of course I do, but it's my job to help anyone who's injured—regardless of my personal feelings."
