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A single car pulled up towards the spray painted town line. The night sky seemed to drown everything out as the only thing of which lit the area was the car.
Once the car had come to a stop, Gold had gotten out of his car and lifted up the trunk revealing Smee laying on his side.
"This will only take a moment." Gold told the man. He pulled the man out of the trunk and had taken the bandage of which was wrapped around Smee's mouth off.
Smee backed away as he lifted his tied hands up as he spoke, "Don't push me over. If I cross the line, I'll lose my memory. It's a cruel fate." Every so often he'd look back to see how far he had till the town line was close.
"A fate you were more than willing to bestow upon Belle." Gold countered towards the man. He hit the man on the leg with his cane which made Smee fall, Gold took this as an opportunity to take the red hat off of the man. "You've had this rag since the day we met. Why is it so important to you?"
"My grandmother made it for me when I was a boy." Smee told, "It's always brought me good fortune. What difference does it make?" As Smee said this, Gold had taken out a small container of potion and placed it over the hat.
"Oh, ho ho. All the difference in the world. It's your only chance." Gold responded as he threw the hat towards the man who was now getting off of the ground.
Smee placed his cap back on his head, "What do you mean my only-" He was cut off by Gold kicking him across the town line. A sudden purple aura was spread across Smee' body though it soon faded after a while.
Gold had walked towards the line a little before he asked, "What's your name?"
"William Smee." The man responded. Curious to how much he remembers, Gold asked, "And who am I?"
"Rumplestiltskin." Smee responded. He got up to his knees as he proceeded to say, "The Dark One. I remember everything! How can this be?"
"Well, it seems that our little experiment was a success." Gold explained before he pulled Smee back across the line. "Now go." With that Smee ran off, "I have a trip to plan."
The sun rays shone brightly as the people of Storybrooke seemed to gather around a coffin with the tombstone of which read; Archibald Hopper. Friend & conscience. Camilla stood there as she stared mainly at the coffin. There was nothing of which she felt apart from sadness, she knew that he wasn't her real father but if she had to be honest, she wouldn't of minded Archie being her actual father. He was better at playing that role during the twenty-eight years than what her actual father was.
