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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Jefferson (The Mad Hatter): Perhaps, you're the one that's mad. (Hat Trick)
The whole time Archie was doing his civic duty by attending the town hall meeting, he couldn't wait to get home. The day before he'd steeled his nerves and created a Facebook profile. By suppertime, half of Storybrooke had friended him. But they weren't who he was looking for. Every few minutes, he had checked his page without success. At midnight, he'd seen it: Vincent Chalmers' reply to his invitation.
Of course, I remember the apartment we shared at SUNY. What I can't remember is how or why we lost touch.
As Mr. Gold had predicted, Archie's illusory college roommate—hijacked by the curse to be a part of his false identity—not only had memories of him but pictures as well.
Archie opened his front door slowly, blocking his rambunctious Dalmatian's escape. Immediately, his eyes sought out the photo Vincent had sent that he'd printed and framed the night before: his twenty-year-old self in a red polka-dotted shirt and white bow tie arm-in-arm with a taller twenty-year-old in a purple silk bomber jacket, fending off a deluge of streamers and confetti.
Oddly, it didn't matter to Archie that over a hundred years had passed since he'd looked twenty, that the only corner of earth he'd ever visited was Storybrooke, and that he and the handsome young man had never actually met. He now knew the curse had implanted in Vincent the same warm recollections of Mardi Gras, New Orleans, 1991. That miracle made Archie glow all over.
He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. Pongo sat without being asked, his bottom wiggling in anticipation. Archie skipped the full Stay! Shake! High Five! repertoire and gave the dog his treat. Locking the door, he hurried down the hall toward his study and his waiting computer.
As he walked, a fat Persian and a lanky tabby wove around his legs. "Hi, guys," he murmured. "No more tuna tonight."
Entering his study, he turned to his desk. Atop it a scruffy, toothless gray tom basked in the glow of the lamp. Smiling, Archie got comfortable on his executive leather chair. One hand tickling the purring cat, the other on his mouse, he read his newest message.
Over a dozen pillars of society have quit their jobs to pursue their old dreams? Your Storybrooke is in crisis—like something out of a story ;D. I look forward to you dishing the dirt on your town hall meeting.
I'm back, Archie typed. Storybrooke's own It's a Wonderful Life Mr. Potter took an astounding leap down his path to becoming a better person. Tonight, he gave a rousing speech about equity. I hope it inspires reforms in our local justice system.
Archie settled his chin on his palm and stared at the screen. In a couple of minutes he read:
Small towns are America in microcosm. You've found your life's mission. And Storybrooke is lucky you're there to help sort the opportunities from the dilemmas.
