Mr. Gold's car ride home would have been largely unnecessary had it not been for the plunging temperature and his ruined knee. In fair weather, Gold walked wherever he needed to go. Walking was cheap; it served as exercise, and let everyone know he was stronger than his disability. He considered and rejected the idea of passing the holiday at his cabin, away from humanity. In spite of his more normal appearance, he hadn't forgotten that he had been outside the realm of human companionship for centuries. Except for that short time, that brief flicker... Rumplestiltskin knew it was better to ignore that type of thinking. He would be spending this Christmas like every other- holed up in his pink house with a bottle of Scotch and a chipped cup.
Still, he couldn't justify going to the trouble of warming up the car for what amounted to a two-minute drive. Instead of hiding from humanity, he would observe it at 40 mph. The streets were predictably bare, given the late hour and bad weather, but it seemed every car in Storybrooke was crammed into the parking lot at Granny's. Not for the first time he kicked himself for not making it a pay-to-park lot. It seemed that all the local yokels were settling in for an evening of holiday cheer.
Through the diner's window he could see Mary Margret Blanchard and Emma Swan laughing with Ashley Boyd, baby girl in tow. His foray into playing the part of fairy godmother would have proved quite the trying experience, had he not used the situation to orchestrate his own capture. He never really wanted Cinderella's baby, and was beyond thrilled that the transaction left him with a less problematic prize- a favor from Emma. Rumplestiltskin slowed his Cadillac ever so slightly so he could take in the scene; the princesses were being joined by the lycanthrope-turned-waitress, Ruby. The girl's hemline was so short he wondered why she didn't just spritz herself with au de desperation and top herself with a Christmas bow. Dr. Hopper would probably enjoy the view; the cricket was obviously staring at Red from across the room.
Gold tended to avoid the diner unless he was collecting rent or he wanted to intimidate someone over their coffee and pie. One time, years before Emma came into town he overheard Ruby call him Scrooge McDuck. Nicknames like that were hard to live down, so he limited his dealings with the Lucas women. After he raised their rent.
The sight of his house neither cheered nor depressed Gold. His front door was just another obstacle on his way to oblivion. There was no wreath on his door and his knocker had not taken on the appearance of Jacob Marley- although he might have been a more welcome sight than the specter Rumplestiltskin would be facing about an hour later.
0
Mr. Gold did not consider himself to be that deep in his cups, Scottish or not, men with his accent rarely admitted to being drunk. He had only made his way through a couple of drinks when he caught sight of the only face that could make him illicit any sign of fear.
"Greetings, Dark One."
Rumplestiltskin paled and dropped his decanter; he thanked the powers that be that he wasn't holding his tea cup and tried to get a grip in his panic. Summoning all the indifference he could muster, he replied, "And greetings to you, Zoso. To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you here to tell me I've been a very wicked man?"
His voice trembled slightly at the end, and the apparition smiled; the smile of a kindly beggar looking to repay the hospitality of his humble host. The familiarity of it turned Gold's stomach. "Oh no, Rumplestiltskin," Zoso said. "I've come to congratulate you."
A shiver snaked its way up Mr. Gold's spine. "You did that after I ran the cursed dagger through your heart. It's not every day that a person sees the ghost of a former Dark Power sitting in their parlor. I'm not drunk or hallucinating, so I'll ask again. To what do I owe the pleasure, Zoso?"
Still smiling, the old man stood. Death had been much kinder than the life of an enslaved Dark One. "Like I said, Rumplestiltskin, I wish to congratulate you. You've maintained your independent will much longer than any other Dark One. Certainly much longer than I held on to my own. But, I've also come to warn you. You're about to lose it."
This time he didn't bother trying to appear nonchalant. His words were shaky, furious, and his attempt to stay quiet and calm only lasted a few sparse seconds. "You think so, dearie? I'm inclined to disagree. I am winning. I had to tear the whole world apart, BUT I AM WINNING!" His breath was coming hard, face red with anger. "I've humbugged them all! I wrote the curse, I found someone to cast it, and I have someone poised to break the curse so I won't be bound by its limitations. I will find my son and no long-dead penny magician is going to tell me otherwise!" He had gone way too far to lose. His rant ended with silence, just his harsh breaths in the middle of the room. Zoso's figure was an un-smiling shadow in the dark.
"You don't have to tell me this is all about your son, Rumplestiltskin," he said. "I was there. Helping you save him was the only good deed I ever did after I came into my Power."
"Good deed, was it? Your intervention ruined my life."
"Yes, but you can't deny that it saved Baelfire's."
"Don't say his name. You don't get to say his name. You evil-"
"I'm dead Rumple. I'm no longer a force of anything- evil or benign. But, I'm here to warn you. You made a mistake tonight. One that will lead to your undoing."
"And what was that? Yelling at the cricket or taking candy from the baby?"
"You took something irreplaceable from that boy tonight, but you've done worse to yourself. The way I see it, the way things are going right now, even if you win you're going to lose."
"Do you care to elaborate on that?"
"Actually, I don't. My time with you is limited and I'm not qualified to tell you everything you need to hear. You will be visited by three others; listen to them. You won't want to, but it's the only way."
"What do you mean the only way? And what's the point of coming back from the dead if all you're going to do is stand around and make idle chitchat and cryptic remarks for five minutes?"
"You need to look inside yourself, Rumplestiltskin. I can't help you do that, but the others can. There's not much more I can say, but for what it's worth, choosing you as my successor was the best thing I've ever done. Don't ruin it…"
As suddenly as he had appeared, Zoso was gone. Rumplestiltskin was unsure what to make of the encounter. He wanted to dismiss it all as a bad dream or indigestion, but even in this land without magic he of all people knew that signs weren't to be dismissed. After a moment of reflection, Mr. Gold decided to doze in his wing-back chair rather than go to bed like a sane person. He had heard of interventions like this before - and whether it was real or just the creation of a lonely, drunken mind, he had no intention of being caught in his pajamas by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
