maskormenacelogs | could be should be (closed)

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could be should be (closed)

WHO: Doc Brown and Mr. Gold
WHERE: Around Heropa, particularly Gold's shop and the cinema
WHEN: September 4th, all day
WHAT: Old men realize a few things, bond, and have some fun.
WARNINGS: None so far, update if needed

As promised, Doc reached the door of Mr. Gold's shop at precisely 2 PM that Sunday. It was closed, of course, so he'd look quite the fool to outsiders, but he knew his friend was here. They had a purpose in all of this, didn't they? They were kindred spirits: two men who could rather use some company, and often lacked the good sense to ask for it.

That fear had held Doc's growing curiosities at bay until now. Now, in the face of the painful knowledge that their time together was very limited...everyone's time was limited by the unknown of death, of course, but the departures from this world seemed all the more immediate and unpredictable. He now knew he couldn't afford to let fears hold him back, because they'd then mature into regrets.

He needed to cherish the friends he had in the moment, and that meant doing this today. With forced calm and a gentle smile, he knocked.

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While the sign on the door said "CLOSED," there was indeed someone inside, straightening things up mostly out of a need to keep his hands busy. Coming to the shop to work on his off day when he had no other plans allowed him to get caught up on special orders and personal projects. With autumn coming in, he'd started to branch out, weaving baskets, cornucopias, wreaths, and similar items alongside his usual brooms. He would have to try to find some wooded areas to find other pieces he could incorporate.

Gold had no apprehensions about their get-together today, but he knew he wasn't the most pleasant company. His thinking was that perhaps being in the magic of this shop for a while couldn't hurt matters, surely.

He was also certain he was reading too much into the Doctor's intentions. Something felt off in the invitation, bordering on more-than-just-friendly, but he had by now convinced himself that this was just in his head. And why wouldn't it be? When people expressed an interest in him, he only read it certain ways: 1) they wanted something from him, or 2) they wanted to harm him. Romantic interest (or whatever it was that Zelena thought it was) seemed more plausible than just friendship. But he knew well enough to know he had this problem, that it was his inability to differentiate.

So this took the pressure off. Seeing the Doctor outside the window, he finished up the step he was on in this particular project and tucked it away, removing his work apron and throwing on his jacket.

The bell tinkled as he emerged from the front entrance and locked it behind him.

"Good afternoon."

Edited 2016-09-08 18:57 (UTC)

"Good afternoon to you, Mr. Gold," Doc answered brightly, perhaps a little too brightly for the gloomy day. At last a break from the heat, even if it threatened rain. But that's what his trusty umbrella was for---

---well, a spare umbrella for Gold just in case. For himself, he had a rather silly looking umbrella-hat tucked in the bottom of his bag. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it today.

He smiled as they set off---fortunately it wasn't far from here.

"I realize now that we never decided on a film...pickings can be slim this time of year. We have too-early Halloween thrillers, leftover imPort-based summer blockbusters, the occasional nature documentary, and a somber piece or two about the mortality of man. I'll admit it, I'm torn between a love of special effects and drama."

"I'm easy," Gold offered.

In truth, he hadn't really seen many movies since the first dark curse broke. It wasn't that he disliked them; he just found himself often too busy to really enjoy, and he so preferred other ways to pass the time and clear his head before. He and Belle partook in a few, but that was all. They were happier talking, or just being with each other somewhere quiet (or perhaps listening to music; she seemed to like the vinyl records his cursed self accumulated).

That stung a little to think about. It pressed him further, to interact, to find a way to think less about feeling lonely.

He smiled. "So why not find one that incorporates both?"

"Very well," Doc smiled broadly, stepping ahead. He pointed at a poster near them: a ticking clock, a man out of time, a cast looking on from the distance...something in the image stuck him.

"I believe that might be our fate. Science fiction, but more emphasis on the fiction than the science," he winked. "Shall we?"

From almost anyone else, Gold might have felt a little off at having someone wink at him. Perhaps this came of centuries of living asa creature who reveled when people didn't read between the lines, but it said mischief to him. With the Doctor, "mischief" was never really a threatening enterprise, though.

"That sounds charming," he said with a smile.

Well, he made it sound charming. He was sure there were people back in Storybrooke who would have balked at him.

"Excellent. I'll secure the tickets here..."

It took a little more fumbling than he'd hoped. These newfangled phone apps were more convenient than a box office line, to be sure, but the concept still took some getting used to. And it was better than navigating the complexities of imPort and senior discounts, he thought.

It was a welcome relief to slip inside. "Please don't take an offense if I have an emotional reaction. A friend tells me I'm terrible with that sort of thing."

He could have been joking, but it was hard to tell. He was more uncertain why Doctor Brown was so convinced this would trouble him, all the while a little flattered that he cared. This wasn't Storybrooke. Almost nobody knew him here and it almost felt better to matter so little to so many people for once. It left him space to spread out, get air back into his lungs, not have people barging into his shop every other day because he just has to assist them with something he doesn't really care to be involved with...

"You're not going to offend me, doctor," Gold assured him, though as they moved into the theatre and joined the throng of people already there, he did look just a mite uncomfortable.

Going to a movie, another thing he never would have done back home, would have felt too strange sitting in a crowd of his neighbors, many of them gawking at the idea that the Dark One even goes to movies.

Well, that's one of the 'possible ways to offend Mr. Gold' checked off the list. Doc could think of several others, and as they approached the theater together, those thoughts only seemed to grow louder.

He stuck close to his companion through the lobby, catching that expression on his face. "The back row, you think? It's afternoon and a film several weeks old, we shouldn't be packed in like sardines."

A little breathing room would be good for both of them.

"That sounds perfect," Gold breathed, realizing he was probably not being especially subtle if Doc is tuning into his uneasiness. Once they were actually inside and seated, he was more relaxed. Being off his ankle helped; being in close quarters with other people while walking upright had more risks than just planting oneself somewhere.

The lights were still on, and from their vantage point they could watch the others file in without having to make eye contact with anyone, and it was long enough until curtain up that he suddenly had the presence of mind to ask.

"...Sorry, which of these are we seeing again?"

Doc had to glance at the ticket to remind himself of the title. It all blurred together, but this he needed to keep straight.

"Greed of a Nuclear Winter." He paled slightly---that would certainly show him to pick something by poster and synopsis alone. "It's about the last days of Earth when a man-made apocalypse is unleashed. The sorrow, rage, regret...and the choices we make when we know our days are numbered."

Well. This was certainly going to be a Time.

Gold's eyebrows went up. "Oh yes," he mused. "For half a moment I'd forgotten I was living in a world where the Red Scare never really ended." World Without Magic politics, all of it, but he was at least aware. Was it something people discussed much, here? Especially knowing they were often being watched?

Then again, he couldn't really assume that all people who'd been brought here lived the same history that was in that world. Still, the USSR ceasing to be a thing in the late 80's, pretty much just as the Dark Curse went into place? It felt like so much background noise, a thing that happened but was almost pre-history to him and people like him. While nuclear proliferation remained a matter of discussion, it wasn't so much anymore. Call that what you would, but this place hummed with that old time hysteria of yesteryear.

"Do you suppose it will mention the tried and true 'duck and cover'?" he asked.

"As it was the standard, yes, but when we reach that point...all is lost, and it's certainly not entirely Russia at fault," he says, though he sounds preoccupied. He's rather intensely uncomfortable with this topic, and for a moment he looks like he'll elaborate.

"Felled by the folly of man...bloodlust, and the innocents caught in the middle. Ah---I think it's starting," he whispered, gripping the handrest rather tightly. He'd have the whole duration to think this through.

Gold watched with solemn, rapt attention, but all the while, with a short glance he was keeping an eye on the Doctor's body language. He had become rather adept at reading his changes in mood and at least knowing he was distracted or upset.

By the end, he'd become uncertain whether this had been the best film to choose. But then his companion surely would have known, right?

"A bleak vision, to be sure." That smelled ever so slightly of scare tactics.

Edited 2016-09-20 11:40 (UTC)

Emmett is indeed upset throughout most of it, but the pain has a purpose. The consequences are indeed dire, and the plight could be all too real. Especially in a place like this.

By the end, he reaches a decision, his face with tension.

"It was. I apologize, I'm absolutely terrible at these things. Yet another reason my friend stopped bringing me along...but while my mind's on the subject, there's something I need to tell you."

He hopes he isn't continuing to make a big mistake, but this is necessary, he knows.

The theater around them was mostly empty now, most people filing out during the credits, so they were able to sit in the dark unbothered and largely unnoticed. Gold turned in his seat a little to better face him and give him his attention. "You haven't done anything wrong," he said, some assurance that he hadn't been terrible, that for what the film was, he was still enjoying himself.

But there was more.

"...If you're ready to."

He waited.

Emmett wrung his hands and took a moment to steady his breathing---his heart had raced like this when he'd finally confessed this to Marty, and now was much the same. He couldn't allow someone close to him without them knowing. Not close in the sense that he foolishly wished for, anyway.

"I'm no innocent," he said simply. "As a young man in the 1940s, I allowed myself to be swept up in all of this---fervent support of war. I wasn't conscripted: worse, I became fascinated with nuclear development. I desperately wanted to contribute to what became the Manhattan Project. Eventually, I was invited to the laboratory and began work in earnest. I believed I'd saved my country, but instead, my hands created the climate we now live in instead, the end of the world around the corner."

He laughed bitterly, pushing himself up---anxiously awaiting a response, fully prepared to apologize and flee. What a fool he was.

Edited 2016-09-20 13:32 (UTC)

Rumpelstiltskin would forever be fascinated by people who spoke to him about these things, never knowing who he was truly, but in full expectation that he would be horrified with them. He supposed this must have been what it was like to be someone who wasn't the Dark One -- someone seemingly well-behaved, if private. In truth, he was surprised to hear of Brown's involvement in these matters, in his own world, but for him to be sitting in this theatre, in this world and feeling responsible for it -- that just didn't penetrate.

"Doctor," he said, leaning in, and just loud enough to be heard over the music, "there are Manhattan Projects across countless versions of this world, including the one I came from, including yours. As far as I know, there is only one you, and you come from a world not so different from the one I know. If nothing else, I believe your world benefits from having you in it, as part of that. But what this says to me as a whole is that nuclear power and weaponry was an inevitability, so the climate is dependent on the decisions people make now and in the future. And frankly, the Cold War ending would ease so many tensions in this regard, as it has across many others. That these incompetents haven't managed to trigger it yet is nothing short of astounding to me, suspicious at its worst. The point is that you cannot carry the guilt of this world's poor decisionmaking."

Edited 2016-09-20 13:46 (UTC)

Emmett couldn't leave if he wanted to, as bound as he was to hear this response. The tension that had consumed him the entire movie slowly loosened its hold, leaving him with an uncharacteristic sagging posture. He can't free his conscience entirely, it's what keeps him in check when he tampers with space-time, but it's a weight eased.

"My world's war has yet to end either, though I hear it should be around the corner," he muttered. "I can only hope that if our leaders possess information on the future, they use it wisely---though that might be in vain," he murmured.

He stretched, rubbing that odd crick in his shoulder for a moment. "I thank you, Mr. Gold, though I apologize again for the unpleasantness. Would you like a coffee, or would you rather we return?"

'We'. He dare not hope, yet he couldn't stop himself if he tried. That odd fluttering returned in earnest.

Gold didn't catch anything amiss in that, not in the way that the Doctor did. What he did feel, however, was that now ubiquitous pull of anxiety. Memory of his earlier conversation with Emma Swan, the uncertain view of his own future and how little of it he might have left if he were to be pulled back to his own world.

No, he didn't wish to be alone yet so soon. It had been a balm on his soul thus far to focus all of his attention on someone else for a while.

"I think I'm not quite ready to be done with the night, if you're of a similar mind," he offered -- somewhat diplomatically, leaving an opening for Brown to call it off if he felt too drained by the evening's entertainment.

That response was just what he needed---hope springs eternal. Emmett's face lit up with an all-encompassing smile, and he found himself reaching for Gold's sleeve in his excitement---thankfully he caught himself in time, turning the gesture into a flick of the wrist.

"Then I know just the place," he whispered, leading them into the light. Thankfully, he'd had the foresight to carry his rather silly-looking future sunglasses and slipped them on.

"The museum where Max works is closed today, but its grounds have a few interesting pieces," he explained. "I'll find us coffee on the way, and we should be able to enjoy the scenery in peace."

The design of his shades were interesting...if a bit implausible. Oddly, they still suited him.

"That sounds perfect."

Despite his need for a cane, walks never seemed to bother him all that much, and going for a walk seemed the best option for them. Given Brown's reaction to the film, Gold didn't think talking about it further would be the best of ideas unless he suggested it himself, but that would have been the standard, wouldn't it? ~~It was how he and Belle would have done it.~~

Emerging into the open air, he felt a little more liberated, no longer bombarded by surround-sound speakers or the chatter of other moviegoers.

Emmett led them to a shaded bench outside the museum. The effect was almost cavernous, but with a modern twist. Blue light streamed down through the abstract stained glass above, giving everything a surreal glow. He found that he liked it...and he wouldn't need to wear the shades here, so he slipped them off.

"Despite the grim associations of some of the film's content, I found myself inspired as well," he started, standing at Gold's side and tipping his head toward him. "In the bleakest of circumstances, in the last days...people found each other. They overlooked their past differences and. Well. Bonded."

He scratched at the back of his neck, blushing. No, mustn't rush that. "And what I've come to realize, between that and Marty's departure from this world..."

He paled at the thought. That came out darker than he intended.

"---this place, I mean. I've been reminded that one never knows how much time they have to live their lives, to enjoy their time with the people they've come to care about. And I know that it's important to do so before it's too late."

Emmett smiled uncertainly, steadying himself with a breath. He wasn't quite ready to take the leap, but getting closer by the minute.

Edited 2016-09-21 02:50 (UTC)

So much of this rang truer now than it had in previous days. In recent weeks it had become painfully clear exactly what his position here was. So he definitely understood the need to savor the time he had, to hold onto what he had here, if nothing else to ease the losses that had been weighing him down since his arrival.

"Some people go their whole lives never really learning that, or only learning when it's too late," he mused.

He sat back on the bench, gaze rolling up toward the stained glass. He needed this, but the thinking would drive him mad. He almost wished they had less in common.

"Unfortunately, that's too true," Emmett agreed, folding his hands behind his back and casting a glance at that same glass. He began to pace restlessly, as he often did when dealing with an emotion---and that lock on his hands didn't last long.

"And lost opportunity is one of the most painful regrets known to man, the opposite side of the coin of our sins. Knowing that I do not know what time we may have, Mr. Gold, I can no longer how much I've come to value your presence in my life, and I..."

Emmett's gaze softens, and as the emotion swells, words become difficult to come by. He slowly sits once more, gives Gold an appraising look, and leans in for a clearly inexperienced, quick and gentle peck.

He finishes the sentence in his head. I hope I haven't just made the worst mistake of my life, though it'd be difficult to top some of them.

"Yes...?"

The Doctor broke off, and Gold made eye contact if only to encourage him to finish. Of course, he'd said before that he valued their friendship, and it still surprised the Dark One every time to hear it said again. This was...alien, to him. Just, not his way of doing things, for so very long.

So it should have come as a surprise to no one, except for him perhaps, that when his -- friend? -- leaned in and kissed him, he had no idea where it came from or what to think. In fact, he just froze, and while he was stock still, perhaps a little bewildered in expression, everything inside him was panicking. Because he didn't see it coming. Because with all his thoughts about a home he could never go back to, of the people he missed, and suddenly, unbidden and horrible, of the last person he kissed, that small, bare instant of contact was like being slapped in the face with guilt, with loneliness, with terrifying uncertainty.

When at last he took a breath, the facade crumbled in perhaps the one way no one would have expected of the stoic, aloof Mr. Gold:

He burst into quiet, fitful tears.

Edited 2016-09-21 15:33 (UTC)

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