Belle shot Hook a sideways glance as she started the car: he was wearing the familiar tense expression that appeared every time he rode in "the metal beast". For once, though, she was as tense as he was in the car. There was something unnerving about seeing Hook in modern clothes. It just seemed… wrong.

Honestly, the entire morning had seemed wrong. Neal's voicemail hadn't seemed real, and she had been convinced it was an elaborate prank—right up until the minute she'd pulled up to Granny's and an extremely unhappy Hook sat on the steps, glaring at the road.

Ruby had been too stunned to press him for the I.O.U. money from his late-night binge-drinking, but that had done little to cheer him up. He regarded the hoodie with a strangely intense hatred, as though it had personally offended him. Even as they pulled into the parking lot, he glared down at it, still squirming against the foreign fabric.

"We're here," Belle said, looking at him cautiously. Hook shook his head.

"I can't be seen like this," he muttered.

She sighed. "Everyone dresses like this. You have to cooperate, sooner or later."

"Why?" he said petulantly.

"Killian Jones," she said sternly, and he flinched at the sound of his full name, "you are a grown man. Stop. Whining."

He fumed silently, glaring at his folded arms.

"Now stop stamping your little feet, and walk them into that store, so we can find something that doesn't look so damn silly." Belle slammed the car door shut and walked around to Hook's side, yanking it open. She cleared her throat; he didn't budge. Belle raised her eyebrows. She cleared her throat again, more deliberately this time. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering curses.

"Fine!" He swung himself out of the car, gritting his teeth. Belle tried to keep up with his furious strides, but her heels slowed her down too much. She was forced to scurry forward on tiptoe, her feet cramping against the narrow tips of her shoes.

Hook stomped all the way up to the entrance…until a very pretty girl walked out, bags hanging from her hands. Oh, for the love of God, Belle thought, rolling her eyes as he slowed considerably, straightening up. She caught up to them as he flashed a smile, "shyly" ruffling his own hair. Just as he extended his arm to take one of the bags, Belle hooked her own elbow around it and whirled him inside.

"Belle!" he sputtered, nearly tripping over her.

"What?" she said innocently, wincing against her aching feet.

Hook looked behind them hopefully, but the girl was already gone. "Damn it," he muttered. Belle made an exasperated sound and dragged him away.

The further they walked, the slower Hook went, pausing to stare open-mouthed at pretty much everything (she had to steer him in the opposite direction of the "women's delicates" section). Belle released her hold on him at the men's department.

"Now," she said, clapping her hands together. "This is your chance to try something completely different, so why don't we try to avoid—goddamn it," she muttered as Hook walked straight toward the leather jacket she'd hoped he wouldn't see. He grabbed it off the rack and turned around.

"Okay, let's go."

"Hook," she said warningly, seizing his arm as he moved to walk past her. Hook rolled his eyes as though he were exchanging an exasperated look with the Almighty Himself.

"Yes, Belle?"

"Don't you want to look around a little?" she wheedled. "Maybe find something else?" Hook stared at her incredulously.

"Belle," he said slowly, "I don't think you understand." He held the jacket up. "I just found my soulmate."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Your…soulmate."

"My soulmate," he repeated emphatically.

"But it's…." She shook her head, a scoffing smile on her face. "I mean, it's a jacket."

"No. You don't understand." Hook looked at her intensely, as if to emphasize the enormity of the situation. "An hour ago, there was only one thing in this world that I thought would always be true. Even if the stars fell from Heaven, and Hell lifted through the earth, it would remain unchanged. Nothing—not destiny, not fate, not the gods themselves— could change this…that I loved Emma Swan more than anything I had ever loved before, or ever would again." He dropped his gaze to the jacket, then back to Belle, something close to desperation in his eyes as he held it closer to his chest. "I was wrong."

Belle blinked several times. Hook stared back, searching her face for a sign of understanding. Belle glanced at the jacket, then slowly raised her eyes back to Hook's.

"It's a jacket," she repeated.