Collateral Damages

NB: I'm writing this episode in something like a TV show format - teaser, four acts, and a tag. Trying to put my degree in fairy tales to some kind of use.

Teaser:

Storybrooke was nestled in white. Mr. Gold stepped out into the sun, pausing to lock his front door carefully. He squinted briefly, despite his sunglasses, looking up and down the street before setting off down the sidewalk.

The temperature had dropped several degrees overnight, and, despite the bright sun of late morning, it was still well below freezing. Snow had blown in during the night, piling up in huge drifts throughout the town. The streets were nearly deserted, cars mostly still buried beneath the snowdrifts, unusual for this time of day.

Pausing to tug his coat tighter around his chest, he continued walking slowly down the cleared portion of the sidewalk, testing each step carefully with his cane. At this rate, he realized, it would take him the better part of the morning to reach his shop. Not for the first time, he wished for a car, but he generally preferred walking to driving. Cars never sat well with him – too much power for too little effort.

As he rounded the corner, he realized someone was walking hurriedly behind him, but he did not turn around. Finally, a young, dark-headed man lunged into his path, making him pull up short.

"Thomas Stockhard," He said, voice clearly carrying his displeasure.

The man before him was dressed in a shabby coat that would have been suitable for an early fall, not a late winter. His hair was growing out of a short cut, ragged and curling around his ears. There were dark circles under his eyes and he held up a hand pleadingly. "Mr. Gold, I've been looking to speak with you."

"I don't believe there's anything to speak about, really." He replied, smiling sharply, teeth catching on his dry lips.

"I can get you your money, I swear."

"Terms were quite specific, Mr. Stockhard," He said plainly, side-stepping him and setting out again, moving quicker than he would have liked on the slick sidewalk, trying to leave the man behind.

The man ran after him, voice rising, "Mr. Gold, please! When the storm clears up, I've got some guys coming in from Boston to buy some of my dad's old stuff. We'll get you your money, please."

"I've heard that before." He answered, not pausing. "I've been hearing it for the last four months, I believe."

Stockhard stepped in front of him again, both hands raised. "This time, I really mean it, Mr. Gold! Please... That farm is all my mom and I have! We need it to live on. We've got nowhere else to go."

He stopped then, voice growing harder, face impassive behind his sunglasses. "Then perhaps you should have reconsidered before putting the deed up as collateral."

"Please, just give me a little more time! A week – a few more days! I'll get your money, I swear!"

"No, I'm afraid not, Mr. Stockhard. Too many second chances – bad for business." He continued around him a second time, shaking his hair from his face, clearly annoyed.

"Gold, please!" Stockhard reached out, grabbing him by the arm, spinning him back around.

Gold snarled as he was thrown off-balance, staggering for a moment, held up only by the grip on his arm as he tried to stick his cane under him. The wood found only ice for a moment and he slipped sideways with it, only to be caught by a hand under his other arm, balancing him.

"Is there a problem here?" Emma Swan stepped between the two men, holding Gold's arm until she was certain he was steady.

"Sheriff Swan," Mr. Gold said serenely, all traces of anger gone from his face and voice. "What a pleasant surprise. No, no, Mr. Stockhard here was just leaving."

The man stared at them both for a long moment, before backing away from them. "This isn't over!" He promised angrily, before turning and jogging away from them.

"What was that all about?" Emma asked, hands on her hips.

"The gentleman owes me quite a bit of money. He had a start-up dairy business fail out from under him after his cattle took sick. In three days, ownership of his farm passes over to me."

"…Of course." She said, rolling her eyes.

"You seem surprised, Sheriff Swan. But I am not in the business of providing assistance for free. He knew that when he levied his farm."

"Maybe, but the guy looked like he could use a break."

"Yes, well. He'll have plenty of time to himself come three days time."

She gave him that look, the one he had come to interpret as You're a jerk, Mr. Gold. He smiled brightly in response, looking around at the snow piles surrounding them. "Lovely day, isn't it?" He remarked, before turning and making his way down the sidewalk.

Emma watched him go, shaking her head.