Rumple had done it. He'd finally found a loophole, a way to leave Storybrooke without subsequently losing his memories. Using a spell that he'd tediously concocted and an old shawl that belonged to his son, Baelfire (made for him by Milah), he'd effectively created a shield. He'd remember everything he'd said and done if he crossed the dividing line, but only if the shawl remained on his person.

It was a cold night when he dragged Belle to the line with him. She didn't want him to go; she didn't want to lose him again. However, Rumple was staunch and committed to finally finding his son after all these years, decades. Belle watched in nothing short of awe as he managed to step into the part of the world unaffected by the curse and remain himself. They'd both been chattering in quiet excitement.

"It worked!" Belle exclaimed, taking his hand in both of hers from the cursed side. "Now you can find your son." She looked up at him, exhaling a laugh that toed the line of being a nervous one. Rumple then went on about how he wished Belle could go along with him, and she wished the same. It was truly a shame that they couldn't both go, wasn't it? A travesty of sorts, really. "But, it doesn't matter. You'll find him." She whispered, persistent tears welling up in her big, blue eyes. "And when you do, I'll be here waiting for you when you get back."

Just as the couple leaned in for a final 'farewell' and 'good luck' kiss, a gunshot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in the back of Belle, causing her to stumble into Rumple, and subsequently, over the town line. Her memories would surely be erased; who was to thank for that? Hook. Of course.

"I wouldn't count on it." He grumbled as he lowered the gun, taking in his job well done. As Rumple panicked over Belle, who now had no idea who she was, Hook watched on in delight. He'd finally managed to hurt The Crocodile. He'd gotten to take away the one thing Rumple cared about, just as that rotten, old, smug bastard had done to him years before. "Fear not, she'll live." A grimy, borderline sadistic smirk crossed his lips to accompany his next words. "She'll just have no idea who you are."

Words were thrown back and forth. Hook told Rumple to do his worst. Just as a fireball was materializing in his hand, a speeding car from the non-cursed side of the land was careening around the bend, not slowing down. Rumple managed to dodge it, shielding his lady from the barreling vehicle. Hook wasn't as lucky; he'd made an effort to get out of the way-- He just wasn't quick enough. The driver hit him head-on, leaving him to fall, crumple, really, on the side of the road as the car finally spun out.

You, as the honorary officer who took over Graham's position as sheriff, were called to the scene. David consoled Rumple's distraught self while Mary Margaret tended to a dazed, confused, and utterly bewildered Belle, as you called the accident in. You walked farther down the rain and leaf-covered street, finding a worse-for-wear Killian lying in the grass. He looked at you with the most nonchalant expression he could offer as you crouched down in front of him. "Hey, beautiful. Here I didn't think you'd--" He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a groan of pain as you reached over to assess the damage.

His ribs were for sure broken, and that could've been the least of his worries, to be quite honest. So, you told him that. "Well, that must be why it hurts when I laugh." He muttered, slowly reopening his eyes to look up at you once more. "Did you see his face?" He asked, heavily sighing. (It was definitely supposed to have come out as a laugh.) "His one true love, gone in an instant." He tried to push himself up, but you stopped him, though he still needed to antagonize his foe. "Just like Milah, Crocodile, when you took her from me."