A/N: My laptop charger stopped working last night so my laptop didn't get charged so I have to wait until 6th period to get a new battery or else they'll charge me and give me a detention. I know, that sounds stupid but hey, its true and its highschool. I am at 26% right now and I'm going to be working my butt off to finish these chapters before my laptop dies.

Chapter Plot: Regular POV. This chapter takes place after the first letter was written and the search begins. Unfortunately, as the original events of the future begin to fade from Peabody's memory and with news of a missing child (possibly Sherman) he may find this search to be more difficult than he had expected.

Quote: None.

Notes: Sorry if this chapter is a bit confusing, but these events are going to be very important in future chapters. They set the knew set of events into motion.

The date is now March 2nd, 2010. When the WABAC disassembled itself, it had done it with the remaining member of the team still in it. It then spit him out on the date it had been built originally, and left the dog contemplating why on Earth he thought that creating blueprints for time machine had been a smart idea. Another thought had been, why he thought he had the time to build one with a little three year old running around. He came to the conclusion that at the time, he had been a much different person. One who did not always feel the need to think things through. He then made a mental note to do more of that to prevent future incidents.

Then, he went to an old wicker desk and withdrew a piece of paper and a pen. It was out on a whim that he began to write about Sherman, drawing out the boy in a way to it that he saw fit to his character, adding in the more than painful mistakes that both he and Sherman had made on the last trip they had together. He did this to mark the beginning of a plan, or a set of blueprints even, to make sure that what ever happened in the near future did not cause another unraveling. After this, he folded the letter carefully, not caring much for any ink spears that may accrue from it, and slid it carefully into the pocket of his heavy winter jacket. It was then at this point, that another sheet of paper had been taken out and this time, a shopping list was written.

He needed an accuse to leave the house after all, and he also needed a task that he knew for sure could be completed before the day's end so that he could at least have the satisfaction of knowing that he had not wasted his time today. Grabbing his coat, he put it on and made for his home's exit. Stumbling out into the cold streets below his penthouse apartment, the white beagle gripped the folds of his jacket in one paw in a vain attempt to block out the chilly air of winter. With a quick survey of his surroundings, he let out a deep breath and started off down the sidewalk in the direction of the general store. Taking out his quickly scribbled list, he glanced over it for what felt like the fiftieth time that day before putting it away again.

'-Milk, eggs, butter...Is there anything else I'm forgetting?' He ratted off silently in his head, then went to check the list again.

He did this at least two more times before the entire list had been memorized and the store was just ahead. That was two times longer than it usually took, but he figured that his aging, sleep deprived mind had been the cause of all of this, nothing more was factored in. Upon arriving at the store, he grabbed a cart from the outside lot, brushed the snow off, and entered the store. Without a small child with him to make a scene or mess of colored cereals, this shopping trip was a stiff and scheduled act that ended just as soon as it had begun. Ending with a quick comment of the obnoxious background noise that played over head. It was such a quick process that it almost seemed like time had wasted itself anyway and the trip had ended up being a pointless venture.

It almost seemed this way, but no. It was something that had to be done every Friday out of the week and once it was over he did not have to go again for another seven days, regardless of if he wanted to or not. Hurrying to pay, the dog rushed out of the store, leaving it behind in the past of the day, where he would never return to it the same way again. This event, like all the others, was nothing but a few blinks in his lifetime so he chose not to weigh on this. He had much bigger things to worry about.

'Such a bothersome task though... I must have wasted at least twenty minutes of my time today because of it.' The dog thought, glancing over his bag of items to the path in front of him, feeling a bit disappointed in himself.

It was a good thing he looked up though, or he never would have seen the small tot before running into it. Stopping quickly on his heels, he looked down at the tightly bundled thing and smiled softly before muttering an apology. The child blinked and looked up at him with a set of large brown eyes that were as wide as saucepans. That was all he could see of the child, for the rest of it had been covered in a heavy knit, black, wool cap and a hideously striped orange and yellow jacket that was at least two sizes to big.

"Hi!" The child, about three, greeted while tugging down the scarf around it's neck with its gloved hands, reviling a tiny freckled nose and a little toothy grin. "It cold!"

"Hello." The dog returned the greeting and then carried on his way while still responding to the child's second statement. "And why, yes it is. Shouldn't you be inside little one?"

Something suddenly stopped him from taking another step. Turning, he looked over his shoulder and saw a child holding his coat. It was the same boy, who in an instance of being spotted, let go of the jacket and carried on his own merry way, which appeared to be to the same general store Peabody had been in earlier. Raising an eyebrow as the odd action, Peabody shook his head and left down his own path, though a feeling of dread now hung heavy around him.

'Those eyes...' They reminded him so much of the eyes of another, whose name he couldn't quite place yet.

He began to think back on the baby that had almost been- No, who was his boy at one point. He remembered the first time they met in that darkened alleyway, when those brown eyes looked into his. They were so closely matched to the one's of the child he had just spoken to, that he began to wonder if the boy who had just passed him by was in fact Sherman. A little hope began to rise in his chest, but soon dropped abruptly and shattered like a vase when he remembered that his boy did not have a freckled face. At that moment, another thought had accrued to him.

He could give up this whole search and simply try again at an adoption. Forget about a point in history where something had happened or almost happened and just try again else where. There were hundreds if not millions of little boys that he could choose from. Ones with different colored hair and eyes, or maybe he could find another toddler with brown eyes and tufts of silly red hair. There were millions of those of course, but there was only one Sherman. Sherman, as you all know, is Mr. Peabody's boy.

"It had happened. I know it had." He found himself muttering allowed to himself. "There is no one out there who can prove it other wise."

Making a quick turn to the right and making fast work of bounding up the stairs to his little home, he made up his mind to drop of the groceries before officially beginning his search. Starting of course, with the Hardrock Orphanage just down the street, hoping to find, if not Sherman, than at least a lead to him. Stopping at the front door, he reached into his pocket to produce a key, but stopped the moment his fingertips touched what felt to be a newspaper clipping.

"What on earth?" He muttered as he reached into it and tugged the clipping out, which was fairly new, possibly from yesterday's post. "How did this get into my pocket?"

He unfolded it carefully and took a glance at the headline. What he read made his heart stop and his blood run cold. The photo under it was of a small child, possibly three or four. His brown eyes were hidden behind a harsh glare on his oversized glasses and his tuft of dark hair fluttered carelessly over his forehead. No name had been printed, but the dog knew who it was a picture of.

Have you seen this child?