The streets of Storybrooke were busy and the climate was, for a fall day in Maine, unusually warm. Everyone was walking; everyone was up and about, and that included Dr. Hopper.
Out of consideration for other people who might not like to share a sidewalk with a dog, Archie only walked Pongo on backstreets, when it could be managed. Unlike the other streets today, the ones Archie was on were completely empty. All he could hear was the wind blowing, his and Pongo's footsteps, and the occasional passing car several streets away.
That, and voices.
…Voices?
"Joel, stop doing that," said a vaguely familiar, frustrated voice. "Hold still. You're upsetting the baby."
"Why we gotta bring the baby anyway?"
Was that a kid speaking? Archie looked down at Pongo; he and the mysterious voices were getting closer to each other. He just hoped the kid wasn't allergic to dogs – he'd feel so bad about triggering an allergy attack.
"She can't just stay home," said the adult, patience clearly thinning. "And I'm not trusting any of the teenagers in this town to babysit."
"I could stay home and babysit her!"
"Joel. You're seven."
"So?"
"Seven."
"I'm big! I can handle –"
And that was when Archie rounded a corner and ran straight into a little, dark-haired boy and … Mr. Gold.
Mr. Gold wearing some sort of papoose.
"Oh, hell," the other man said instantly, taking a half-step back and starting to cover his face. He brought his hand back down to his side with a quick, exasperated snap and forced a smile. "Dr. Hopper. What a pleasant surprise."
Archie looked down at the baby in the pink papoose, who gurgled in delight and grabbed some of Mr. Gold's hair. The older man winced and ducked his head; something in his eyes told Archie to pretend it didn't happen.
"Wow," Archie said dumbly. "She's got a good … uh, reach."
"Yes, Doctor. She's a regular gymnast. Do you mind letting us pass?"
Archie belatedly realized that he and Pongo were blocking the narrow street. He grabbed the dog's leash a little tighter, but couldn't resist asking one more question before he got out of their way.
"These are your kids, right?" he said, looking between Joel, who was holding Mr. Gold's left hand, and the baby girl, who was still holding his hair. "I mean –"
"Dr. Hopper," Mr. Gold cut in impatiently, "do you really think I'd have someone else's baby strapped to my chest as I walk to work?"
Archie felt his cheeks heat up. "Right," he mumbled. He stepped to the side, pulling Pongo with him.
With all the dignity of a very rich, very controlled man, Mr. Gold passed by.
It would have been impressive if the baby hadn't projectile-vomited as they went.