Hamish was silent as he stared at the photo in his hands. He'd been looking at it in utter quiet for close to five minutes and Belle was fidgeting. Hamish knew she had been married before she moved to Lochdubh and that she had lost her husband, but this was the first time she had ever actually shown him a picture of Rum. It was actually of the two of them, her and Rum in each other's arms, staring into each other's faces and smiling.

Henry had insisted on taking pictures of all the couples and families in the lead up to the battle with Regina and Cora. Belle knew she wasn't the only one who would forever be grateful for those last images with loved ones.

She had lost Rum less than a month after Henry's photograph had been taken. He had left Cora dead and Regina magic-less and incapacitated, but the amount of magic he'd needed to complete the task had been more than his body could handle and he'd collapsed under the pressure, his life leaving him barely minutes later as he lay in her arms, Bae holding his free hand.

Belle shook her head to ward off tears as the memories threatened to consume her and turned her attention back to the man in the passenger seat. She was currently driving them from the airport in Bangor to Storybrooke . She had put off showing Rum to him for as long as she possibly could, because she knew she'd have to explain a whole host of other things that would sound utterly ridiculous and she didn't want him to run away thinking she was crazy before she had a chance to prove herself. But Hamish would need to know of the similarities between himself and Rum so that he could be prepared for when they got there. Not to mention he deserved to know.

"So." His voice was low. "This was yer husband was it?"

"Yes. Rum."

"He, uh - looks a bit familiar."

Belle focussed her eyes on the road and nodded. "A bit, yeah."

He was still staring at the picture when she looked back to him. "So I guess this is - this is why yer friends were a bit - "

"Spooked?" Belle offered.

"Aye. They were tha'. And I dinnae blame them, now."

"They were - uh - worried." Belle coughed. "That maybe I was just projecting on you because of how alike you two look." She chanced a glance at him and he looked devastated. Her heart ached. "I'm not though! Projecting. I promise you that. I was just as surprised when I saw you as they were. But you're a completely different person than he was. Both good, obviously. But you're not him, Hamish. I don't think you are and I don't expect you to be and I don't want you to be. I just want for you to be you. You're good for me." She startled when she felt his hand cover one of hers on the steering wheel.

"I know. I know. It's just . . . a lot to learn." He shook his head. "How does this even happen? How do two men in different countries, born at different times even look this similar?"

Belle drummed her finger on the wheel of the car. "That's . . . I have a possible answer for that. But it's complicated. You're going to think I'm crazy."

Hamish snorted. "We're definitely no' twins separated at birth or somethin'. How old was he anyway, yer husband?"

Belle groaned. "That's a complicated answer too."

Hamish squinted at her. "How complicated can it be?"

She sighed and kept her eyes on the road. They weren't far out from Storybrooke now, luckily. "If I had to guess, I'd say his physical age was roughly equivalent to fifty, here."

Hamish looked confused when she spared a glance at him. "What di ye mean, here? As opposed to where?"

"Do you know any fairy tales, Hamish? Snow White and the Seven Dwarves? Little Red Riding Hood? Beauty and the Beast? Rumplestiltskin?" The last two were forced out through tears. Hamish looked absolutely bewildered when she looked at him.

"Aye, I know 'em. What've they got ti di wi' any o' this, though?"

Belle took a deep breath. "We are those fairy tales, the citizens of Storybrooke and me. Please, just hear me out, okay?" He closed his mouth and settled back in his seat, eyeing her warily. "It's true. We used to live in a different land, a different world. But Regina, you would know her as the Evil Queen, cast a curse. It brought us all here, to Storybrooke. She was unhappy and so she wanted to strip everyone else of their happiness. It worked, for a while. She kept our true memories suppressed for a very long time. And then Emma came along. You remember Emma. She set our memories free and we fought Regina. We won, but Rumplestiltskin, my husband, he died defending us and banishing magic from this realm forever. We can't get back to the Enchanted Forest now, but we're all quite content here."

When she glanced at him, Hamish was frowning. "Belle . . . Fairy tales are no' real. Other worlds, like ye're talkin' about? Magic? They dinnae exist."

Belle shook her head. "I'm not crazy, Hamish. I know how mad it sounds, but it's honestly true. I'm just going to have to show you."

"Belle, love. They're stories. They cannae be real."

"Why not?"

"Because - because they just aren't, Belle. They're stories."

For some odd reason, she didn't feel upset about the fact that he currently thought she might be less than sane, and as she drove past the sign the welcome sign, she actually smiled.

"We'll see about that. Hamish Macbeth, welcome to Storybrooke."