Pity parties help. My breathing eases, and the tension in my shoulders subsides. I'm still a piece of crap, but I'm better than before. Letting it all out helped lighten the load I was carrying. I never knew how much it weighed me down until now.

I wipe away the tracks of tears with the back of my hand, then use the inside of my shirt to dry my face. It's true that everything happens for a reason. Maybe what Henry did was a good thing. Without it, I wouldn't have disposed of some of my burdens.

But I'm still gonna kick his ass.

Perched on the cot, I watch Mr. Gold settle on the stool, each of us cradling a styrofoam container on our laps. This may be the first time I've had a cheeseburger for breakfast, and I must admit, this earns Gold a few brownie points. I'm ravenous, and this comfort food is very much in order.

"Granny has a way of turning ordinary food into something extraordinary, don't you think?" he says.

My mood might be lighter, but I'm still mired in a gloomy mindset. "Anything other than microwaved meals is extraordinary to me," I reply, looking at my burger.

"Your foster parents don't feed you?" Is the man who's always trying to scare and pressure me into making a deal with him concerned with my life before Storybrooke? How interesting?

"They left us to our own devices. Outsourcing food has been put onto my shoulders."

"How many other children?"

"Three. A five-year-old girl, a ten-year-old boy, and a seventeen-year-old witch."

His forehead creases, defining his wrinkles. "How come she doesn't get the food?"

"Did you not hear me? She's a witch. One who's incapable of taking care of herself." I pick the pickles out from the cheese and set them on the upper flap of the container.

"Belle mentioned you found an item linked to your parents." Still not something I want to discuss, but it's better than talking about Agatha and...well, everything pre-Storybrooke.

"We found a necklace that belonged to my mother, but she gave it to Ashley as a gift. You wouldn't happen to have anything else, would you?" Why am I getting my hopes up? Haven't I learned my lesson?

"Nothing that belonged to your parents." Of course.

I lower my head in expected defeat.

"However," he says with his usual hushed, conspiratorial tone, "there are other relations than just one's parents."

That lifts my head up. My mouth hangs the tiniest bit open in the hope I may have other relatives. Why haven't I followed that path? I've been so fixated on my parents I never thought to search for aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, or siblings. I've wondered about their existence, but it never occurred to me to track them down. I wanted a mother and a father. But I'll take anything.

Gold rises from the stool, places his takeout container on the workbench, and limps to the showroom, the curtain tied back. I lean to keep him within sight, observing as he removes a necklace from a mannequin in the front window. He returns, letting the necklace dangle from his fingers.

A large silver snowflake pendant sparkles when it catches the light. I reach for it, but as my hand gets closer, I sense a magnetic force emanating from it. I pull back, afraid of what may happen if I touch it.

"What's the matter?" Gold asks with a knowing smirk.

"N-Nothing."

"Go on, then."

My hand trembles as it hovers in the air. What if the necklace shoots energy at me like Henry's book and the bones? What if it makes my visions worse?

But I'm curious. Too curious.

Ignoring my palpitating heart, I accept the repercussions and reach for the necklace again. The instant my skin touches it, a vivid vision rushes into my head.

"Is that..."

"Mother's. Yes."

"You found it."

"I don't want to rip it."

"Then you'll have to put it on carefully."

"You want me to wear it?"

"It's missing something. Hmm. There."

"Something new to go with something borrowed."

"It's gorgeous! I mean, enchanting. I mean, I love you!"

"You're very welcome. Now, shall we see it with the dress?"

This one was different. My head doesn't hurt. I'm not out of breath. I'm...fine. Unburdened.

I don't think it was a vision. It didn't feel that way. This was more like a daydream. My eyes never closed. I could see and hear everything with striking clarity. As though I've...lived it—or made it up in my head.

I was in an attic alongside a woman with platinum blonde hair. We were wearing old-timey clothes. At least, I was. She was in a shimmering ice-blue gown.

A beautiful wedding dress hung in a wardrobe. Then the blonde woman gave me the snowflake necklace. I said I loved her. It felt like a sisterly kind of love. The kind that's warm and cozy. Like you've got a best friend for life.

Hold the phone. Wedding dress? I was getting married? To who? That boy I flew across the sky with in my dreams, perhaps?

Oh, great. Now I'm all lovey-dovey inside because not only did I have a sister, I had a fiancé. I had a life.

Obviously, I've conjured all this up in my brain. It's like when I look back on moments in my life where I could've or should've said or done something differently and imagine the multiple ways the scene plays out. I add so many details and picture it so clearly that it almost feels like I've lived it—like a memory.

Or some kind of multiversal version of myself lived it, and I'm picking up on her memory frequency. Then I'm glad. Some other me out there has a sister and is getting married. Congratulations!

I hold the necklace in my hand, letting the chain dangle.

Gold interjects, "That necklace was given to you by your cousin, Elsa." Elsa? Why does that name sound familiar?

"I have a Cousin Elsa?" I ask, glancing up at Gold, surprised yet excited. Not only do I have a cousin, but I have her name—and it's not from a fairytale! Names form connections. It's enough to grab onto to create personalities and imagine faces.

"And an Uncle Agnarr and an Aunt Gerda." Two more relations! Two more names! Damn, I should've gone to Gold from the start. Ugh, why did he and the others have to scare me off? It's frustrating how I've let fear dictate my actions, shying away from those who might've had answers.

A regretful sigh escapes me. "I should've approached you from the start. I could've saved so much time. But at least I have the information now. And this family heirloom, so thank you. I have a family heirloom in my hand." I graze my fingers across the pendant, trying to be as delicate as though it were the last precious gem in the world. A glass dome filled with a constellation of tiny diamonds nestles at the heart of the snowflake.

"It's beautiful," I mumble, then lift my head to find Gold settled again on the stool. "Where are they? Somewhere in Storybrooke, I hope." I almost don't recognize the sound of my voice. It's optimistic and full of child-like giddiness. I don't even think I talked like this in the car with Henry on the way to Storybrooke. Because the idea of finding my parents seemed so far-fetched. It still does. Yet somehow, finding other relatives doesn't seem as impossible as it does with my parents. Maybe my aunt, uncle, and cousin never knew about me. Maybe they'd want me, welcome me with open arms, love me, and help me understand my parents' choices. Maybe they'll let me live with them. God, I hope they're in town.

"Gerda and Agnarr are dead." Oh. Just...oh. There goes that, I guess. "But Elsa is home in her...distant village."

Just like that, the hope that swelled within me whooshes out of my body as though it were a passing jogger, leaving a sense of emptiness in its wake.

I'm back to being alone.

"Gerda was your mother's elder sister," Gold adds.

"She was? You know, I've always wondered about my heritage."

"Your mother's background is quite akin to that of Norway."

"I'm half Norwegian?" My disbelief echoes through my words.

"In a manner of speaking." This explains my inclination to learn Norwegian words and customs. Half Norwegian—that's something.

"How do you know all this?" My words ask how he knows all these details, but my tone says, "How can I trust you?"

"I've been around a long time, dearie. You come to learn things."

"Then tell me how you did. And how did you get this?" He has a lot of things that are supposed to be mine. Why is that?

"Many of the items from our land ended up here due to the curse. Although," he leans forward into his cane, "that's not the case with you," he says, extending his pointer at me. "That necklace and the clothes you wore when you leaped through the portal just happened to turn up in my shop. I was quite perplexed. At the time, I didn't believe in magic. I was ensnared by the curse; thought someone was playing a trick on me. But when Henry told us about you, it all clicked into place." Every conversation in this town always circles back to magic and other worlds. I'm not sure how they do it, but they do.

Even though I asked, Gold didn't have to tell me all this, which makes me wonder why he did. A man as calculated as him, manipulating people like chess pieces—there has to be a reason. If he thinks this information sharing will gain my trust to make that deal with him, he's out of his mind. However, he also didn't have to let me stay here without alerting Emma or get me food. He didn't have to give me the necklace. Maybe this is what Belle sees that the others don't—the man behind the beast. Behind his dark, mysterious façade is someone who offers assistance to those who need it. He did try to help me by showing me those bones. But it backfired...or so I think. And part of his deal is to offer me protection. Maybe he just has a bad reputation, like me and Hook. A bad yet untrue reputation.

"You're not as terrible as the others say you are."

"Oh, but I am. I can be a monster," Gold says with a snarl and a hint of a smile. His response evokes an amused grin from me. There's something absurd about Mr. Gold, the infamous Dark One, cautioning me about his monstrous nature.

So I laugh. I try to hold it in, but I can't. It's too hilarious, but I know better than to underestimate the power that lies within him. Storybrooke's filled with tales of his malevolence, cunningness, and wrath. Yet something about the way he spoke makes me believe there's more to him than his dark reputation. Maybe it was the hint of sadness in his voice or the way his eyes held a depth of pain that make me see him as more than a monster.

Regardless, I must be cautious around him. I don't know when the beast within him will come out to kill. I suppress a shiver, realizing I may have awoken it, but for now, I can only hope my laughter doesn't spark a wrathful fire in his heart.

"Why is that so funny?"

"Because. You think you're the only one. Anyone could be a monster if they wanted to. No one's immune to the dark side."

Gold grins, eyes lowered. "Except for my Belle."

My phone disrupts the moment. It's Regina. What could she possibly want from me?

"Excuse me." I hand the necklace back to Gold and cross over to the showroom to answer the call. I shouldn't since she dismissed me, but it must be important if she picked up her phone, dialed my number, and pressed the "Call" button. Forget important. This must be dire. "Hello?"

"Did you forget what day it is?" Regina says, somewhat aggressive.

"September 18th?"

"Your test results are ready." The answer I'd been seeking for so long is within my reach. The words I longed to hear for an eternity were spoken.

My DNA test results are in.

I'll finally know who I am and where I come from. More like who I come from.

The weight of the moment is heavy on my shoulders, my breath shallow and quick. Part of me is ecstatic to have the answers I crave, yet another part is scared, not knowing what the results will hold. I try to steady my breathing to calm my nerves, but it's useless. My mind races with the possibilities of what I could learn—who my parents might be. And with that comes the fear of what they might not be.

"Thanks for letting me know."

"Where are you?"

"Well away from your son. Trust me."

"I'm coming to pick you up. Now, tell me where you are."

"Why, though? You called me a murderer and slammed the door in my face when I asked for a place to stay. Thanks for getting me the test, but I no longer require your assistance, Your Majesty."

"She's at my shop," Gold's voice cuts in from behind me.

I pivot to see him standing in the doorway, his hands on his cane. How could he tell Regina where I am? He's supposed to be on my side, but I should've known better. No one in this town can be trusted.

My fingers curl into a fist, my nails digging into my palm, as Regina declares, "I'll be right over," and hangs up.

The room spins as I try to figure out why Gold would hand me over to her after what we discussed. I thought we bonded. Guess not. "Why did you do that?"

"You need answers. But remember—the truth isn't always easy to accept." His warning adds to my confusion.

"What truth?"

"I've already said too much." He moves to return to the back room as if to escape the conversation. Uh-uh. Not happening.

"What truth, Gold?" I demand, hoping for some sort of explanation. "What are you talking about?"

"The truth about your parents' whereabouts."

My heart leaps, fear mingling with hope, and I swallow a lump. "Do you know something?"

"I know many things, Miss Palmer, but where your parents are hiding? That remains to be a mystery."

"Gold, please. If you know something, tell me," I say, stepping forward. "Where are they?"

He turns, his back facing me. "It doesn't matter what I say." As if sharing a secret, he glances over his shoulder, a devilish grin full of knowledge playing on his lips. "You won't believe, dearie."