A/N: So, like all Wooden Swan shippers, I was a little upset by the conclusion to "Selfless, Brave, and True." It was a great episode and little Pinoke is the cutest frickin' thing, but I am sad nonetheless.

HOWEVER, unlike many Wooden Swan shippers, I am not really angry and furthermore, I don't think the ship has been completely sunk. While Emma was never in love with August, but he was totally in love with her. And while it's creepy for an adult to crush on a little kid, it's adorable when a little kid crushes on an adult.

And so, this.

It's short, but I hope you like it anyway. Please R&R!

Pinocchio rubbed his hands on the back of the seat in front of him. The washed-out blue covering squeaked against his skin, but it wasn't the same squeak that leather was supposed to make. He didn't trust this big yellow carriage. It wasn't that it was expressly made to bring him to school, although that was very scary in itself; it was just so unnatural. The driver had assured him they would get to the school safely, but Pinocchio doubted the man's sanity. He didn't have any reigns. He didn't have any horses.

How anyone got by in this odd land, Pinocchio had no clue. He looked out the window, and the streets were full of these carriages. There was a red one and a green one, and a big one and a little one, and some oddly shaped ones that sputtered along like they were about to fall into pieces. As a novice carpenter, he was insulted by their very existence.

But his impressions were fleeting. The black and white carriage he'd seen many times before pulled up to the curb across the street and two people, a boy and a woman, stepped out. The woman had wavy blonde hair and sleepy eyes that smiled as she hugged her son goodbye. She was the sheriff so she owned that carriage, and Pinocchio figured that if she could drive one, they must not be all that bad. He watched the carriage speed away with his nose pressed up against the window.

As Henry climbed aboard the yellow machine, he greeted the driver (who used to be a dog) and sat down next to Pinocchio with a big smile. "Hi, August," he said. "What're you looking at?"

Pinocchio frowned, getting a little bit of spit on the glass. There they went again trying to . . . to condition him, Jiminy called it. Conditioning him to use this stupid new name. It sounded like a fairy name. He wouldn't answer to it.

"August, what's up?"

He really wanted to talk to Henry, though. He pried his face off the window and turned to the older boy. "Nothing," he said. "Your mother is very pretty."

"Yeah, I know," replied Henry. He smiled uncomfortably, then turned to the driver to apologize for not bringing any leftovers – all his family had the night before was vegetarian pasta.

Pinocchio put his chin in his hand and looked at his shoes. Pasta sounded tasty. He wondered if the sheriff had made it.

Suddenly, the bus lurched forwards, throwing Pinocchio against the back of his seat. He shrieked in terror. Henry laughed. "This your first time riding a bus, isn't it? Are you a little scared?" he chided.

"I probably rode a ton of them when I was a grown-up man," said Pinocchio with shaky false bravery.

"Right. And that August survived the bus, so you will too."

Silly name or not, the real August W. Booth sounded like a hero. At least, the things Pinocchio had been told about him sounded wonderful. Maybe he could grow up to be just like him. "Henry," he said once he began to feel comfortable with the bus's unsteady movement, "when I was that August, did your mother like me?"

"Oh yeah, you two were great friends."

"Really?" Pinocchio felt himself grow a little taller. "That's swell! Okay, how about . . . did she also love me?"

Henry seemed to jump in his seat, presumably because they'd driven over one of those hills in the road that no one had taken the initiative to knock over. He didn't answer for several seconds, looking at the other children on the bus and the driver and the floor and his watch and anything that wasn't the little redheaded boy. His attention was clearly lagging, so Pinocchio reached up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Pinoke, it's rude not to listen when someone is speaking to you," he said in a mockingly serious voice.

Henry couldn't help but crack a smile – that was an undeniably great impersonation of his therapist. "Sorry," he said. "That won't happen again, I promise." He laughed. "But the thing is, I don't really think I can tell you who my mom loved. And with a gun to my head, I'd probably say she loved Neal. You know Neal, right? My dad?"

"Uh-huh." Neal was going to marry a different woman, though. She was also pretty, and Pinocchio was terrified by her for don't-know-why, but it was good. She kept Henry's father away from Henry's mother.

August W. Booth might have been a hero of stories, but he missed out on one really wonderful thing. Pinocchio planned to do him one better.

He turned back to the window. In the distance, he could see the sheriff's black and white carriage moving in the same direction as the bus. "Henry?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going to marry her someday."

Behind him, Henry chuckled. But Pinocchio wasn't trying to be funny. He meant it with all his heart.

A/N: I just want to gobble up the little guy who plays Pinocchio. He's the cutest. He is cuter than Eion Bailey is hot, which is saying something.