The One where Goblin goes to Storybrooke
New York City had its usual metropolitan glow. Lights ablaze, the sounds indescribable, the usual hum of organized dissonance. From somewhere in the shadows, an onlooker observed this, taking it all in like a breath of fresh air.
It breathed.
"New day. Same old city."
Norman sighed. He was completely exhausted.
His alter ego, on the other hand, was full of energy and anticipation. Even from a whole night of destruction and chaos, it seemed the Goblin was never fully quenched of that thirst.
The Goblin chuckled.
"Oh come on, Norman. Surely it wasn't that bad?"
Norman rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, for you maybe. You forget, I'm still a mortal. Even mortals have their limits, scientific serum and jacked muscles aside."
Goblin sighed.
"Yeah, I guess so. What shall we do now then? I see that look in your eye. You need some sleep."
"Hmmm, maybe a quick coffee first." Norman said, suddenly overwhelmed by the aroma of nearby coffee beans being roasted.
"As long as there's a blueberry muffin to go with it, count me in." The Goblin said, humming with delight at the thought of it.
After all, it was 8 am in the city. Good time for a nice breakfast.
Norman stepped out of the shadows and began trudging along the block. His steps weren't as sharp as they usually are this time, but he didn't seem to care. He needed food and he needed to be home.
Whatever that meant.
Home.
He didn't have a real home.
Sure, he has the mansion. But it's not really a home. It shows off his wealth and success, but it's no home. It was a shell.
He had his son, Harry. But Harry was always busy with school and friends. Norman was beginning to think he wasn't being the father his son needs.
And it was when this thought crossed his mind he would be filled with dread at the idea of that being reality.
Then of course there was the lab. But that wasn't a home either. Only a means to an end. So long as his mind remained sharp and his fingers nimble, he could create anything. But, time comes for us all, and eventually would claim his body, mind, and soul.
In all his work, he truly forgot where his passion went. Where did all that love go?
For science,
For discovery?
For his own son?
And the Goblin.
Oh right, HIM. How could he forget?
A constant voice in his head, and a hand on the pulse was a sure sign of the Goblin's presence.
Norman never was truly alone following that fateful day in the lab.
Although it frightened him most nights,
Tormented by that wicked grin mocking his own,
It also intrigued him in a rather devious manner.
What has become of this shy man in a span of 8 years?
Twisted by inner demons or a friend, most days it was hard to tell. But through the mess, the Goblin has made himself an ally of sorts, never truly soft, but never truly cold or distant.
It was always complicated.
And it still is, even with no words still to describe such a bond.
All Norman knew,
If there was such a thing as home,
Gobby was the closest thing to it.
And for now, that was enough.