Warnings: Eleventh-Era, Canon References, No Spoilers for Who, (Vague) Spoilers up to S2E12 for OUaT, X-Over Fic
A/N: Written for who_contest's Prompt: Impossible and comprised of my usual overly angsty, thinky darkness. This one was rather easy to write, but still shaky I'm afraid (as I'm still getting back to my metaphorical writing feet). It may also hold a surprise for you and you'll see what I mean as you read. Mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. As always, I apologize for any repetition, mispellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-dark/thinky and unbeta'd.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own the scrumptious Doctor or his lovely companions. That honor goes to the BBC and (for now) the fantastic S. Moffat. Nor do I own Once Upon a Time and the gorgeous Rumplestiltskin/Mr Gold - that is also owned by the writers/creators of the Show. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!
He was waiting patiently when the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, not looking any the worse for wear, not a hair out of place – though he made a show of fussing with his gold handkerchief in his breast-pocket – before smoothing out his tie with a slow, practiced air: like the veritable cat that ate the canary. (So nothing had changed, then). He tilted his head with a half-smile in greeting before leaning (with authority) on his cane, looking for all intents and purposes like he had all the time in the world.
Which come to think of it, he likely did. Or already had. Or would.
Tenses could be such a pain.
The Time Lord straightened his bowtie, offering a half-smile of his own as he closed Her doors – not willing to let the other man have even a peek – though he didn't seem to mind in the slightest, if the twitch of his smile was any indicator. The Doctor did a casual lean of his own, taking in the orange spray-paint on the pavement right at his feet and the way the other man stayed a careful two feet from it. Interesting. Line ended here, then.
"Was wondering if you were beginning to miss me, dearie," the man said, side of his mouth pulling into a grimace that could be mistaken for a grin, though his eyes held anything but humor. "Time and away enough. The heart – it does grow fonder does it not?"
"Rumple," the Doctor sighed, crossing his arms as if to deflect the half-angry smile glimmering behind the man's teeth. "Or is it Gold?"
"It can be the Dark One if you prefer," Rumplestiltskin said an airy chuckle, adjusting his grip on his cane so he could lean closer to the Doctor. The Doctor to his credit, held his ground staring back steadily as he got the same once over he had given the creature standing across from him.
"I don't," the Time Lord murmured. "So old hat, Rumple – one would think you'd've moved passed all that."
"Ohh-ho-ho," Gold said with a touch of actual humor. "One would have thought you'd have moved passed such horrible taste in fashion. But – as they say, only times change. Old dogs and new tricks don't happen do they?"
"Still stuck here, then?" The Doctor asked quietly.
"Shhh," Gold hissed mockingly. "The trees have ears, dearie – and Regina is still a wily and cunning adversary…but – to answer your question: no. Soon, I shall be off – making my magic way through the world. Not that anyone here is the wiser to it."
"How is Regina?" The Doctor asked mildly, eyes sparking with interest. "Or has she taken another name, too?"
"Not at all," Rumplestiltskin/Gold sniffed, one hand lifting to wander in an aimless circle near his shoulder before coming back to rest on the cane. "Never any imagination, that one. But then, we always left that part to me, didn't we?"
"You've gotten too powerful, old friend," the Doctor said darkly.
"And you've been away too long," was the angry retort. Gold hadn't moved one inch, but it felt as if he was backing the Doctor into the TARDIS, so swift and unrelenting was his agitation. "As I've said, times change – and old dogs…well…you know how I hate to repeat myself."
"I am sorry," the Time Lord said quietly. "I couldn't get through. I didn't know –"
"What?" Was the weary question, though it still frothed with venom and a mild touch of worn anger. "That I would be sent to…to 'far-away lands'? That my whole life would change and I would lose everything –"
Gold turned away to compose himself, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so, his features a mere shadow that held pain the Doctor could only guess at. But just as fast he turned back, serene smile playing across a face that was as calm and neutral as an ocean before a storm.
"That I would lose everything…again? How could you possibly know that? And what would have made you think I'd want anything…done about it? Then Regina…and her Curse –"
"Which you gave her," the Doctor pointed out.
"It had to be done," Gold said with an impatient wave. "The Timelines had to be set just perfectly around Emma, it had to be just right - and Regina…she can't See them anymore."
"I tried to get through," the Doctor emphasized, his own face impassive as he said it, though his hearts were breaking with all that his friend had gone through. To have redemption in his grasp again and again – only to have it snatched away: that was hell. "But this…curse…wouldn't let the Old Girl slide past."
"Not your fault," Gold shrugged. "Only twenty-eight years. And it wasn't all bad. You've left me in worse hells. Left me to worse fates."
"That I have," the Doctor agreed. "Most of them of your own making."
For this he got another shrug and a toothy grin, Rumplestiltskin/Gold not bothered in the slightest by his past errors and wrong-doings. So he hadn't changed much, then – a joy and a sorrow all at once. It was nice to see he was still himself. Though there had been changes, some of them for the better, some…not. The Doctor had to look away before he got caught in the turmoil just under the other man's exterior. He had turmoil enough of his own – even as right then, he missed his old friend and enemy with a fierce ache that seemed to overwhelm all else.
"So that's it, then," Gold said mildly. "That's all you came for? A pitiful 'I'm sorry' and…what? A bit of scolding? 'Don't step out of line when on my turf'? That sort of thing?"
"Pretty much," the Time Lord laughed, relieved to see merriment in the tilt of his lips, even as Gold's eyes remained serious – the both of them relieving events that could never happen again. A friendship that could never be repaired: but one that could still be remembered fondly and with warmth.
"Ah, well then – consider me threatened," Gold said smoothly.
"I will," the Doctor said with another laugh. "Just…miss you sometimes."
"You're getting old," Gold chuckled. "But then, I'm one to talk."
They stood for a few moments, aware of the irony of the line painted between them – and this one a line they dare not cross. Not yet anyway. The peace was broken when Rumplestiltskin/Gold/Dark One let his composure relax, rolling his shoulders as he regarded the Doctor with an almost exasperated fondness, smile still curled at the corners of his mouth.
"Still…was good to see you." Quietly, leaning in close on his cane – as close as he dared, anyway.
"Indeed it was. Besides…you know the threats by heart. I just came to see you," the Doctor admitted with mild surprise. "Forgotten how much I had missed you."
Gold didn't say anything to that, just smiled his enigmatic half-smile and turned on his heel to walk back to his Cadillac. He paused for a moment, turning just enough to catch the Doctor's eyes, his own scanning over the TARDIS and the Time Lord as if he'd never see either of them again. The Doctor's hearts clenched in his chest…his old friend was always better at Seeing than he was. Maybe they would never see each other again.
Or maybe they could. Just not like this. Not as the eleventh incarnation of himself. Not as Rumplestiltskin.
The Master and his fairytales. How he had always loved them.
And how he had always loved his friend.
"Missed you, too," Gold said with a cough. "But I still think your fashion sense leaves a lot to be desired."
"Says the man with the cane!" The Doctor huffed, feigning injury to his pride. (He wouldn't mention the Cinderella collars Rumplestiltskin had favored in the other realm – that would smack of jealousy).
"The cane isn't decoration," Gold teased. "But I'll give you this…always did love a bowtie."
"Melodramatic maniac."
"Insufferable meddler."
They laughed and turned to their respective vehicles, the Doctor stopping long enough in his open doorway to watch 'Mr. Gold's' taillights disappear. This meeting had been near impossible. Though mostly leaning towards improbable. And he knew Gold crossing the line and finding what he was looking for –
'I'm so sorry, Bae!'
was even more so. All the same, he half hoped he would find it. That and the redemption he was truly seeking. In the end, he still believed: anything (and everything) was possible.