So a reader, keira-alinka has asked me if she could translate this story into Russian. I think that's awesome. :D

One last chapter after this one, and then I'm back to working on my sequel to Still Learning! Speaking of which, anyone have any suggestions for a name for it? I want it to be Still...something...but I can't decide what. XD Thanks for reading!

Part 3

Regina didn't even try to talk to me after that. She just threw herself into her work, and Graham visited at night more often.

Meanwhile, I threw myself into finding out who my mother really was. I had a name, I had a birth certificate, I had a computer. I could find her.

"…I will find you! I will always find you."

I went on several websites trying to find the best way to find biological parents, and most of them pointed to a site called WhosYourMomma dot org. It was said that they were the best. Only problem? It cost almost $270, which was exactly $260 more than I had.

Getting money from Regina was out of the question. She was way too careful with her money. She'd notice in a heartbeat, and once she did, my mission was over before it began.

I also knew I couldn't just ask someone elsefor that much money. No one would be willing to help me without telling Regina. I may not have been stupid, but I was also just 10.

I spent a week coming up with and discarding ideas. It was possible to work and earn that much money, but I needed a credit card to pay on the website.

I sat in class, not listening to Miss Blanchard talk about photosynthesis for the hundredth time, and tapped my pencil on my desk. How could I be defeated in my search so early just because I was a kid? I was just beginning to worry that I would just have to wait until I was older when the bell rang for lunch.

"No running!" Miss Blanchard warned, not seeing me mouth the words along with her.

Today was one of the days Miss Blanchard actually made it out of the room with the rest of the class, so when I realized I had forgotten my lunchbox, I ducked back into the classroom alone.

"Be right there, Miss Blanchard!" I called over my shoulder.

I pulled my lunchbox out of my backpack, and my eyes caught sight of Miss Blanchard's purse. She'd left it sitting on her desk.

I froze. Did I dare? The answer to my problem was right there in front of me. I just had to take it.

"No," I muttered to myself. "I'm not a thief."

But if I was right, and my mother was the Savior, then she was also Mary Margaret's daughter. If I did this, if I succeeded, they'd be reunited.

I shook my head. No rationalizing. Stealing was wrong. End of story.

But Snow White met her Prince Charming when she stole from him...

I dropped my lunchbox on my desk and darted over to the purse, looking over my shoulder the whole time. I opened her wallet and found several cards. There was her driver's license, a bank card...

"Ha!" I pulled out a blue card that had the name of a credit company on it. I'd been doing research. I knew.

I pocketed the credit card and closed the wallet and purse back up, arranging it so hopefully it didn't look like it had been disturbed.

Now I could only hope that Miss Blanchard wouldn't notice that her card was missing until after I used it to pay for the website. Guilt twisted in my gut, but it was far outweighed by the relief I felt that I finally had a way.

"Let Operation Bring the Savior Home begin…"

Nah, that didn't sound cool enough.

"Operation…Homing Pigeon?"

Ew, no way.

"Operation…Shark."

There we go.

The faceless people who ran Who's Your Momma were pretty fast. There was record of my birth in Phoenix, and they traced the woman backward until they found records of her in the foster system.

My heart ached a little when I saw how many addresses Emma had growing up. Yeah, so I was adopted, but at least I'd gotten to stay in one home my whole life.

If the fact that Emma Swan was found abandoned on the side of the freeway when she was only hours old, not too far away from Storybrooke wasn't enough to seal it in my mind who she really was, her birthdate totally did.

Emma Swan was going to be 28 years old in three days.

My heart started to feel like it was going to hammer itself out of my chest. I just kept thinking, is this real? Can this really be happening?

It couldn't be a coincidence. It was just too clear, too perfect to be a coincidence. And honestly, I was starting to doubt the existence of coincidences altogether.

What if I was wrong? What if I really was crazy and all of this was going to do nothing but get me locked up?

Fear wracked my body. My short life in Storybrooke was swimming in my mind. All the things I'd always wondered about. The things that could just so easily be explained because of my book.

"I'm not crazy," I muttered to myself, ignoring the fact that muttering to myself was in itself a kind of crazy thing to do.

I couldn't be wrong. I couldn't. The curse was real, and my mother could break it. She had to. Her 28th birthday was coming.

So...what happened when she did? Would she just show up in Storybrooke herself?

But no...no one came to Storybrooke. Ever. Was it enough to sit back and hope it worked out?

I had to go out and find her. Get her to come here. But how?

I walked into class the next morning contritely, positive that Miss Blanchard had noticed her missing card by then. But as the day wore on, and she made no comment about it, didn't even look anything other than like her usual sunny self, I decided that at least right then, I was safe.

I approached her desk after school, the card burning a hole in my pocket.

"Miss Blanchard, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Henry," she replied brightly. "You can ask me anything."

I sighed deeply and shoved my hands into my pockets, fingering the card and preparing an apology when I returned it.

"What would you do...if there was something you felt like you needed to do...but it was something you were really scared of? Something that someone might get mad at you for and you might not know how it will turn out but..." I sighed again. "Something you know in your heart is right. Would you do it?"

Miss Blanchard furrowed her brow, as if searching for just the right words, then motioned me to stand beside her chair.

I went behind the desk and let her take my hands in hers, wondering, not for the first time, if this woman could be my grandmother.

"You know something? You, Henry, are braver than I could ever hope to be. I can't honestly tell you that I would do it...but that's because I'm not brave. I may let my fear win, and I would probably regret it later," she smiled. "But you? You have courage to spare. I know you, Henry, and I know you always do what's right."

I winced slightly at that, the card in my pocket suddenly very heavy. "I think you're braver than you think you are," I told her. "I think there's someone inside you. A fighter."

She chuckled in a self-depreciating way. "Like Snow White. Know what? I believe that you really think that. I only wish that if I ever really needed to be courageous, I could be who you think I am. But this isn't about me. This something...is it dangerous or something that your mother wouldn't approve of?"

Of course she'd ask that. I decided to fudge the truth a little. If I told her what I was planning to do, she'd never let me, and everything would be ruined. "Not dangerous..." I fibbed, though I truly had no clue how dangerous my idea could be. "But I can't say my mom would be...thrilled."

Miss Blanchard looked conflicted, and I held my breath. "If you...if it's really something you feel is right, Henry, don't let fear be what stops you."

I smiled, feeling more certain than ever. I didn't return the card right then, feeling as though I may need it for what I intended to do, and thanked my teacher.

I spent the whole next day after school ignoring my chores and studies and planning Operation Shark. I would go to where the website told me Emma Swan currently lived...in Boston, Massachusetts...and bring her home, to Storybrooke. No matter what it took.

The first problem, and the biggest, was the fact that busses in Storybrooke didn't really happen. There were no cabs, none that left town anyway, and no one could leave.

And that brought me to my second problem. Could I even leave?

Regina had never taken me from Storybrooke, and all I knew was when anyone tried to leave, bad things happened. But I wasn't born in Storybrooke, not to mention I was only 10, so I couldn't leave without having to come back eventually, so maybe the curse would let me go?

Miss Blanchard said not to let fear stop me. And she was right. I had to get Emma to Storybrooke...her birthday was the next day.

A search on Google showed me that the nearest bus station was miles away. I didn't even know how long it would take me to bike there. But what other choice did I have? In my book, Snow White and Prince Charming took journeys that took days to complete. On foot. With armies chasing them.

I could do this. I had to do this.

I packed my backpack with everything I thought I needed, including my toothbrush. Regina's voice echoed in my mind, reminding me to brush. I stuffed a bunch of candy bars inside, a flashlight, my pocket knife, and left plenty of room for my book.

The Greyhound website said the bus to Boston, a trip that should take four and a half hours with two stops in between, left the station 3:00 the next afternoon. That meant I had 8 hours to get there after my mom left for work.

I put myself to bed early. I was in for a long day.

"Henry?" Regina called, opening the door to my room. "Henry, it's late! You're going to be late for school."

I moaned, rolling over. "I don't feel so good."

She came in and sat beside me on the bed, feeling my forehead. "Well, you don't feel warm. What's the matter?"

"My throat hurts," I lied. "And my head."

I'd hardly ever been sick, and even when I was she usually had to force me to stay home from school, so I knew she probably wouldn't question me.

"Hmm. I suppose I should stay home with you..."

"No!" I said...way too quickly. "I'll be okay. I just want to sleep."

Regina looked uncertain, but just as I'd hoped, her love of her mayor-ness won out and she told me to stay in bed and call her if I needed her. I was half-amazed that she bought it, but I supposed she believed what she wanted to.

I forced myself to lie in bed a full 20 minutes after she'd left before leaping up and throwing on my clothes. I grabbed my backpack, double-checked that I had the credit card and everything I needed, and went to the garage to get my rarely used bike.

I walked my bike in back-alleys and through backyards so no one would notice me going away from the school.

I was forced to creep carefully behind Mr. Gold's shop, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard his voice right behind me.

"Isn't school the other way?" he asked, leaning with both hands on his cane and a smirk on his face.

"Uh...um..." I stammered. "Yeah...I..."

Mr. Gold chuckled, but not in the scary way he laughed at people who owed him money.

"Are you going to tell my mom?"

The look he gave me couldn't be described as anything but co-conspirator like. It was somewhat unnerving. "She won't hear it from me, lad. Now off with you, the sheriff will be passing by on his rounds soon."

Needing no other warning, I took off, running as fast as I could until the busy part of town was behind me and I hopped on my bike.

After a short-cut through the woods, I found myself at the town line before I was quite ready for it.

I peddled right to the sign and stopped, unable to go on.

I'd made it this far...it was farther than most others who attempted before something happened. But it was almost like there was an invisible wall there, one I knew that once I passed it, there was no turning back.

I looked back, down the long road that led home. Did I really dare to do this? Maybe I should just go home...go to school...live my weird life in Storybrooke where only I would ever grow old.

And somewhere, my mother would never find her real family or know who she really is.

"I can't let fear keep me here," I told myself. "Snow White would be brave. Prince Charming would be brave."

I closed my eyes, and pictured myself as a knight, wielding a sword and shield, or maybe a bow and arrow. I imagined myself, as I often did, defeating a fire-breathing dragon and saving my people.

This was my dragon...and it was up to me to find the Savior. To save my people.

I took a deep breath, braced my foot against the pedal and pushed forward.

When I passed the sign I felt a pull, then a release, and I knew I was free.