It happened so fast.

The first thing Emma saw was the new sports car – property of one of Storybrooke's big spenders, a woman named Tanya Hertz who reportedly had run for mayor at every opportunity and never won. Her car was famous around Storybrooke because it was always above the speed limit. Today was no exception. It was speeding down Main Street like a drag racer.

The next thing Emma saw was Henry, in the middle of the street.

She was fifty feet away but by the time the car hit and a body was flying through the air, she was close enough to be the first responder. She couldn't feel anything except her heart thudding in her chest; her vision was going blurry. She couldn't hear anything except her own screams and someone on the street calling an ambulance. Then, with shaking hands, she reached out and touched the person's face, and she realized it wasn't Henry.

Henry had been pushed to the ground, out of the car's path, and was standing now, wandering toward them with scraped knees and dirty clothes.

On the ground was Mr. Gold.

"Easy," Emma breathed. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Gold could be sleeping – his hands were clenched on his chest and his head was tilted slightly to the side; his eyes were closed and his body was limp. Gingerly, Emma brought her fingertips to his temples and skimmed them down to his neck, searching for any odd knobs that might indicate a broken spine.

His eyes slid open groggily. They were glazed, vaguely focused on the street behind her.

"Hey," said Emma softly. "Mr. Gold, can you hear me?"

His gaze moved toward her like a slug. There was a glimmer of comprehension in it – he could understand her, then.

"Where are you hurt?" Emma asked. Mr. Gold's face was pale.

"The boy …," he whispered. Emma's eyes flickered down to his right leg, where the cloth on his trousers had turned black with blood; it was twisted and ripped.

"You're bleeding," she said, reaching out to brush against his leg. "Can you feel that?"

"The boy," said Mr. Gold a little louder. His torso lifted about an inch of the ground as he tried to sit up, but Emma pushed him back down. He settled for an intimidating stare. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine."

"You sure?" Whatever authority had been his voice had drained away. He seemed oddly vulnerable – timid and worried, maybe even shy. Emma couldn't really see the self-serving and collected Mr. Gold pushing her son out of the way to take a blow for himself – but when she combined him with the injured man on the ground, this brief glimpse of what he might have been once, before all the power, it became a no-brainer.

"I'm positive," Emma assured. Relief took over Gold's features and he closed his eyes again. Carefully, Emma wormed her fingers under his head to check for any wounds. She felt the blood instantly and shifted, cradling him so he wasn't lying on the concrete. She could feel him trembling now that he was in her arms, could feel every shallow breath he took. While she sat there, just holding the man who saved her son, someone from the gathering crowd stepped forward.

It was Henry.

"Emma?" he said tremulously, wringing his hands. "Is he OK?"

Emma looked at Mr. Gold, who was blank-faced and tired, but could still meet her gaze with clear, frank eyes. Suddenly, Emma was close to tears.

"He's hurt," she choked, and saw Henry deflate.

"Remember Operation Cobra?" he said quietly, kneeling and scooting closer to take Mr. Gold's hand. Emma nodded, unsure how it related. Henry took a shaky breath. "Well," he said, face crumpling "I don't think that he's a bad guy anymore."

The ghost of a smile crossed Mr. Gold's face. His eyes, sliding closed again, fixed on Henry with warmth.

His trembling started to fade, and in Emma's arms, he was becoming unnaturally still.

"An ambulance is coming," Henry murmured.

Mr. Gold went cold.


A/N: ... Guys ... is this sad?

Did I write something sad, or did it fail?

Either way, it failed. It wasn't meant to be sad.

(To the person who requested this MY STARS I'M SORRY)

So, this was the prompt: A kid is in danger and Gold saves the day somehow. (I don't know, just something you could expand on.)

But you can't blame the person who requested this, because this was just my own twisted doing XD I had an old story with characters who were thinly-disguised plagiarisms of Mr. Gold, Henry, and Emma. And their story didn't have an ending, so I typed it up, changed the names, and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED. WHY DO YOU PEOPLE LET ME WRITE?

Gah.