Notes: An alternate storyline. Rumplestiltskin never makes it as far as New York, and he doesn't seek out the Queens of Darkness. Something else entirely will happen. Stay tuned!

Rumplestiltskin had felt something break that night. What it was, he couldn't say. All he knew was that he had felt it, and it continued to ache and sting along with his ankle. The pain in his leg flared up the moment he was no longer surrounded by magic, and he wasn't able to stand when stepped back under the influence of the Dark One's dagger. Once again, he had been left begging for mercy and love. Whether Belle was still there watching and listening, he didn't know. If she was, she didn't seem to hear his pleas.

After what felt like an eternity, Rumplestiltskin fought his way to his feet, a mere cripple in the middle of a deserted road. What could he do? He hated thinking of himself being helpless, but resources were scarce – literally. He never thought he'd be booted over the town line, and so his wallet was probably resting somewhere in the glove compartment of his car, which he also didn't have. A quick search through his pockets revealed that he at least had his cellphone. For a brief second, he considered calling her, but what could he say that he didn't already try? No, it wouldn't work. This had been the final straw, he was sure.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he began to limp along the road.

Hobblefoot.

A few miles down the road and he'd reach a diner, he remembered, however, that was easier said than done. Briefly, he considered looking for a proper walking stick in the woods, but scurrying along the forest floor in pitch black darkness sounded like a horrible idea. And so he stuck to the road, trying to ignore the pain coming from everywhere. It was his injured right leg, his tiring left leg, the ache in his chest that simply wouldn't go away, and the headache bordering on a migraine. It was only when he actually began to see the faint light from the aforementioned diner that he realized that he was also trembling. It must have been the cold air, the time he had spent sitting on the ground.

It took some time for his eyes to get used to the lights. A small bell, not unlike the one in his shop, rang as he entered. This time of night, the diner was as good as deserted. Only the staff, here in the form of a young waitress who emerged from the back, seemed to be present. He could hear more of them out back.

She stopped dead in her tracks, taking in the sight of him. Rumplestiltskin couldn't blame her. He must have looked like an absolute mess; pale, trembling and favoring one leg. He settled for what he was apparently best at: lying. To the waitress, Rumplestiltskin was simply a man with a dead car several miles back. Did she know the number for any taxi service? She did, but it was unlikely they would drive all the way out there no matter how much he could offer them. Did he have anyone he could call? With stinging heart, he would have to say that he didn't. Did he need a ride to the nearest town once her shift was over? He definitely wouldn't mind that, or the coffee she offered him while waiting.

1 week later

It had started again, the pain. Over the last few days, it had gotten more severe. His breath came out in small gasps, made visible as small white puffs in the chilly air. The only thing keeping him from actually falling over would be the brick wall against his back. The pain in his leg was nothing now. He clutched and clawed at his chest, just trying to rip it out, remove it, but he couldn't.

'Stay awake!' his mind foggily reminded him. 'Don't fall asleep! You have to stay awake!'

He slid down the wall until he was finally sitting slumped against it, his chest rising and falling as he gasped for air that wouldn't come. The first thing to numb down was his fingers. His legs came second. He couldn't even feel how could the snowy ground was supposed to be.

'Wake up…' he weakly reminded himself. 'Wake up, wake up, don't fall asleep… stay awake… get up…'

He couldn't. His cane had fallen somewhere, he couldn't see it. Black spots were dancing across his vision, and his ears were ringing.

"Hey, buddy, you need help?" a voice said somewhere next to him. It was the last thing he heard.