Warnings: No Spoilers, Canon References, No Warnings, X-Over Fic
A/N: I have no idea where this came from. No - seriously...no idea. It feels like centuries since I have truly written anything and even though this came like lightning and the need to write was much the same, I fear this is not up to even my usual standards. Just please don't throw things *cowers*. Mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. As always, I apologize for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky and unbeta'd.

Disclaimer(s): Once Upon a Time and Stargate Universe are owned by their respective writers and creators. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!

"Ah, ah," the strange man behind the counter said. "One thing that I cannot do, bring back the dead. Nothing can do that – in this world or the next."

"I wasn't go to ask that." His customer said, taking his glasses off to rub at his eyes. He looked tired. Desperate. Gold almost felt a pang when he looked upon such a familiar face (they could be twins, really) only to see such loss and weariness. "I have…a project. It has become my life's work – well, what's left of my life. I just can't find my way around the puzzle. Something is blocking me and I need to get this done. I just have this feeling that –"

"Time is short," Gold said thoughtfully, picking up a chipped cup and turning it in his hands before delicately placing it back on the counter. "Yes. It is. Consider it done. What you need will be there for you soon. Then you can meet your…Destiny."

Quick smile and the chipped cup disappeared from the counter and the man behind it extended his hand out to shake. Nicholas took it hesitantly, glad he had such terrible vision without his glasses because he would know that smile; he would –

"What do you want in return?" Rush asked, hardly believing that he was giving into this fantasy, this fairytale – he would walk out of here and reality would set in. Unless he was going to walk into a straitjacket (they already said he was crazy), and standing here…he could almost believe the whispers. "I don't have –"

"A favor," the man behind the counter said, his eyes dark and serious. "One day, you will owe me…a favor."

"O-Okay," Nicholas said, absently rubbing his glasses clear with the corner of his shirt. "How will I –"

"Oh, just call for me when your journey is over," the pawnbroker smiled, mouth crooked like he was tasting something bitter yet delicious. "You'll know when the time comes."

"Thank you," Nicholas said with stunned relief. "I-I'm heading out tonight so I'd better…"

"Get going, then," the other man smiled. "Got a…plane to catch, I'm sure."

Nicholas turned to the door of the shop, hurrying without thinking, because thinking lead to reason – and if he stopped to think, he might just turn around and ask questions. He could almost feel his own desperation: like a clock ticking; like a crocodile's jaws closing on your ankle and you knew when he limped towards you –

"Oh, and Doctor Rush," the strange twin behind him said.

"Yes?" Don't turn around, don't –

"Just…remember the date." The pawnbroker said in a smooth, offhand way. And yet, he sounded as if he was savoring each syllable that fell from his lips.

"The date? You mean April –"

"Just…remember." The man behind the counter said.

Nicholas nodded again and the bell tinkled merrily above the door as he slipped out. Gold smiled his enigmatic smile and pocketed the scientist's forgotten glasses, whistling as he limped heavily back to his workroom in the back. There were many worlds other than these…and the man-with-only-one-name was quite sure that Nicholas would see a few more than he had ever dreamed. And maybe (just maybe) one of those worlds held the key to freeing the town. Even if not – a favor is a favor is a favor.

Nothing is free…either in this world or the next.

He smiled his crocodile smile and caressed the smooth wood of an old spinning wheel, knuckles white around his cane: the future so much treasure at his fingertips. All he had to do was be patient…and let fate lay the threads.