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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rumplestiltskin (Mr. Gold): The truth? That nothing can stop the darkness. (The Thing You Love Most)
Archie squeezed the second half of the lemon, drizzling it back and forth over the halibut steaks. "Just let me add the—the spices. Then I'll—I'll give you the grand tour." He smiled over his shoulder at Vincent, perched on his kitchen stool, Figaro purring on his lap and Pongo stretching his head up for a vigorous back-of-the-ears tickling.
"Your home is lovely. Shingle style, isn't it? All local stone and wood paneling. Rustic and elegant at the same time."
Self-conscious, Archie shrugged. "I—I've been lucky."
Extremely lucky. When the Evil Queen had crashed Snow White's and Prince Charming's wedding to proclaim, I shall destroy your happiness, she'd meant everyone's. But as a lowly cricket, he'd escaped her special attention. Instead, the curse had assigned his fate by default. In the Enchanted Forest, he'd been a royal counselor; thus, he was a counselor in Storybrooke. The cricket-sized mansion Geppetto had fashioned for him had been translated into his rambling seaside house. How can I complain? If Regina had known he'd once advised the crown couple to dispense justice to her, no telling how horrible his current circumstances would have been.
"But not lucky enough to find someone with whom to share your life."
Archie felt a pang in his chest. Vincent knows me so well. Turning, he stuffed the lemon peel down the garbage disposal. "I used to—to live with a widower. For a while, I—I helped raise his son." He peeked over his shoulder for his friend's response.
"You sound proud. I'm glad." The skin at the corners of Vincent's incredibly blue eyes crinkled. "What happened between—"
"Oh, we're great friends, Gepp—uh—Marco and I." Archie sprinkled chopped garlic and basil over the fish. "But just friends. He isn't... We never... There's never been..."
"Never anyone?"
Archie sighed. Just a memory of a road trip to New Orleans—a memory of something that never really happened. He opened his pre-heated oven and slid the stoneware baking dish inside. "I've been... rather a—a monk."
"Celibate?"
At the word, Archie swayed slightly. Then he gripped the granite counter with one hand and closed the oven door with the other. "That's right. That's what I've been meaning—meaning to tell you. I'm not—not homosexual. Nor heterosexual either. I'm more... non-sexual." Like a dwarf or a fairy.
"And you're happy?"
Archie moistened his lips. Then he arranged them into a beaming smile and turned around. "I can't complain." The queen couldn't destroy what I never had in the first place.
Vincent gazed at him a moment. "Me neither." Then he scooped the black-and-white cat off his lap and gently set him on the floor.
