[center][img=http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/240x160StorybrookeGold.gif?t=1407788619][img=http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/Signatures/240x160Henry.gif?t=1407732235][/center]

Henry hurried down the street towards Mr. Gold's shop, not even looking behind to see if Faye was following. Either not noticing, or not caring about the 'closed' sign on the front door, he pushed it open quickly - causing the small bell to ring, announcing his presence. 

The shop, like every other building in Storybrooke, had completely lost power however (unknown to anyone as to 'how') the shop had at least a dozen different candles lighting up the front room. The amount of wax dripping down the sides indicated that they had been lit for at least an hour; well before Henry had knocked the power out.

The owner of the Pawnshop was nowhere to be seen, however, but the sound of glass clinking together was barely audible from behind the curtain where Mr. Gold's office and extra items were stored for later use. Aside from the usual musty smell that the pawnshop gave off (due to most of the items being extremely old and dusty) there was another odor in the air, one that no one had ever expected inside Mr. Gold's shop; smoke.

Henry looked about the seemingly-empty shop peculiarly, wrinkling his nose at the scent of smoke that wafted through the shop. Deciding to investigate, he stepped behind the counter, slowly pulling aside the curtains to find the source. 

It wasn't too hard to spot Mr. Gold once the curtains had been drawn back. He was standing over a rather large, oak desk with his right palm keeping him steady as opposed to his cane, which laid in the middle of the floor between Henry and himself, forgotten. On the desk were a variety of glass bottles, each half-filled with either a clear or murky brown liquid. Also on the desk, seemingly very out of place, a very old, worn blanket folded up to perfection with the red embroidery sitting face up.

Mr. Gold didn't bother to raise his eyes from the name stitched onto the blanket after hearing Henry come in, the only movement the older man made was to lift his right hand from the desk, pull out a half-smoked cigarette and then used his left hand to bring a shot glass of what could be Brandy to his lips, exhaling the smoke out of his nose as he downed the drink. Only when he had set the empty glass back down onto the desk did Mr. Gold bother to look over at Henry, his usual perfectly kempt hair splayed out in random tangles, as if the man had spent a while tugging and pulling at it.

"You've done it then." Mr. Gold acknowledged Henry with a low, tired voice, his eyelids matching the worn look the rest of his appearance displayed. 

"Good." He returned the cigarette to his lips and took a rather large inhale.

"I destroyed a fuse box - if that's what you're talking about." Henry replied, somewhat absentmindedly as he looked about what was *behind* the shop. He didn't get a good look at it whilst breaking in just about a week ago. 

Henry inhaled sharply, his injured hand stinging painfully as he now had all the time in the world to focus on it. "Alice..." He began soberly, "She's here - in Storybrooke. How...why?" Henry asked, his tone not angry or demanding; simply inquisitive, and...hurt. 

Mr. Gold tried to laugh, but it was immediately interrupted by a few hard coughs, forcing his hand to pull the cigarette out and cover his mouth. He shook his head at himself before running his hand over his mouth, pulling at the skin a bit before turning to face Henry directly.

"That depends-" he was forced to stop as another cough came over him, but he continued on just after, "-on what Cora told you."

Henry merely stared on as Mr. Gold began coughing violently. He masked a small smirk that threatened to cross his lips, [i]'The mighty Rumpelstiltskin, reduced to coughs and sputters.'[/i] Henry felt like saying, but held his tongue - Gold had helped him out more than once...and was definitely not a man to be insulted, as Henry had found out when he was staring at his own heart in the Imp's hand. 

"She told me that you told her to kill Alice...so that I'd have nothing to lose." Henry answered bitterly, staring daggers at the older man before softening his gaze slightly. There was no point in getting mad right now. Alice was alive: in a false identity, yes. But alive nonetheless. 

Getting screams of protest from his right leg from trying to hold his full weight for only a few moments, Mr. Gold was forced to brace his right hand back onto the desk, although he let out a bit of a chuckle at Henry's reply.

"So she [i]is[/i] capable of telling the truth..." He mumbled to himself, though loud enough for Henry to hear before tossing his head a bit to look upon Henry directly once more. "It did work though, didn't it? Pulling you from Wonderland, away from your home and family, you're right, you didn't have anything to lose. Such as what I needed in a savior. I counted on you running from her execution, and you did...too much of a coward to stay and watch before I plucked her from the fate [i]you[/i] bestowed upon her." He answered, using his thumb and forefinger to mimic 'plucking' as the word fell from his lips.

"You...you [i]stole[/i] her?" Henry asked, his tone that of utter disbelief. 

"I prefer the word rescued..."

"All these years I thought she was dead, and you took her for your own selfish reasons."

Mr. Gold scoffed and shook his head, looking down at nothing in particular before looking back to Henry.

"Would you have done it?" He asked, and without waiting for Henry to ask him what he was talking about, he continued, "would you have been pushed to such an extreme to make the power go out in Storybrooke in a last-stitch effort to save your sister from eviction?"

Henry stammered, genuinely unsure of how to answer. "I...I had to. That life-" He began, pointing towards the front door, signifying all of Storybrooke, "Is all she knows." 

"What did the nuns say when you handed them over the money?" Mr. Gold asked, although the tone he used indicated that he already knew. "You don't know do you? Because as soon as you had the money, you came straight here. But I'll tell you what the nuns will say, they will spread word of your 'heroic display' of raising the money to keep 'nasty Mr. Gold' from evicting such kind-hearted people. Your name will be cleared, all charges will be dropped and you will be trusted because you managed to beat [i]me[/i]." His lips curved into a thin smile, indicating that they both knew better, what [i]really[/i] happened.

"I needed a savior to break this curse, but I had to [i]create[/i] him first." Mr. Gold finished and snuffed out the still burning cigarette onto the oak desk.

Henry paced about the room, trying to come to terms with what he was just told. "If you had Alice this whole time." He started, not touching anymore on the 'savior' business. "Where did you keep her in the Enchanted Forest? The dungeon?" He asked, a slight bit of venom entering his tone. 

Mr. Gold just smiled, giving Henry his answer before the man went into another coughing fit. A searing pain pierced down his back, causing the man's lean frame to arch away instinctively as he let out a low hiss of protest between his coughing. Coming out of his fit, he took a few steps towards Henry, stumbling whether because he had been drinking too much or because of his bad leg was unknown, but he stopped before his cane on the floor and scooped it up stiffly, relieved to have put his weight back on the stick rather than his bad leg.

"Rest assured, Mr. Carlyle, Alice was well taken care of. As you plainly saw earlier this afternoon, she bodes well. All she's missing, is her memories. Memories that [i]you[/i] can bring back to her."

"I see..." Henry said, almost reverently. He already knew he had to break the Curse - but now...now the stakes were higher. 

"One more question." Henry started, clearing his throat. "The quill...why did she ask for a quill?" He asked, finally hoping that the question that was racking his brain for days now, would be answered. 

Unfortunately, Henry wouldn't get his answer. Mr. Gold rose his fist to his mouth once more, coughing into it with enough force that he was forced to close his eyes into a squint in an attempt to bear the pain that followed. Whether it was from the alcohol running through his blood or whatever sickness ailed the man, sweat began to form on his forehead causing strands of his hair to cling to him. All strength that Mr. Gold held was gone in an instant, drained immediately and the man began to sway on his feet until he began to collapse on himself in front of Henry.

Henry's eyes widened, but he made no move to grab the falling Mr. Gold until he clattered with an audible [i]thud[/i] on the ground, his cane rolling useless across the floor. 

Henry knelt down by the pawnbroker, eyes narrowing. "You son of a bitch." He hissed through grit teeth. "Why is it that [i]I'm[/i] supposed to be the savior and no one tells me a goddamn thing?!" He practically shouted in the old man's face. 

Without saying another word, Henry tried to lift Mr. Gold; but found the man too heavy but with whatever willpower Mr. Gold had left in him, the two of them together managed to get the Pawnbroker back onto his feet, though leaving Mr. Gold leaning heavily on Henry in support.

"You're not...dying on my watch, Imp - I need answers first." Henry said to Mr. Gold, huffing slightly as he tried to match his pace with the weak stumbles of the older man. 

Henry helped support/carry him towards a rather austere looking reclaimer placed just-so-conveniently near the back wall - trying to ease Mr. Gold into the seat with...less grace than a doctor. 

It didn't take much convincing on Henry's part for Mr. Gold to finally relax into the furniture. He let his head drop back, resting at an awkward angle against the wall with his hand resting on his chest as he attempted to regain his breath, but it wasn't coming easily. He could hear Henry speaking to him, but the dull buzzing noises in his ears kept him from being able to understand what he was saying, only able to just keep his eyes closed and concentrate on holding on...just a little longer...

"You have...to break...this curse..." Mr. Gold managed in between staggered breaths, each word sounding like it could very well be his last.

Henry looked Mr. Gold up and down, unsure exactly what to do or say. "Will you tell me what the hell is going on?! I [i]need[/i] answers, Rumpelstiltskin...the first of them being what the hell's wrong with [i]you[/i]." Henry said, sounding quite unsympathetic to the Dark One's plight. 
Something that sounded like a laugh came from Mr. Gold's throat, followed immediately by another coughing fit, but the smile remained on his face all the while keeping his eyes closed.

"All magic...comes with a price..." He answered hoarsely. "What used to be in The...Enchanted Forest...is now here. The Dark One is not here, but my curse still remains...inside me...as the curse weakens, my own curse aims to kill me, but you must...break it..."

Henry cocked his head to the side as Mr. Gold explained his sudden ailment. "So you're saying...if I break the Curse, I save you?" Henry asked, pacing from side to side calmly. 

"I'm not doing it for you..." Henry finally said after some time. "If Alice and Snow weren't involved...I'd be just as happy watching you die slowly - painfully. But you're once again...[i]necessary[/i]...I need Prince Charming to read to Snow White - and I think I might know how." Henry finished, turning to leave. 

Mr. Gold said nothing, nor did he move in protest as he heard Henry getting up to leave. He only breathed, a small sense of calming coming over him at Henry's words and this time, this time the old Pawnbroker believed him.