Who: Belle and Cooper
When: Early morning
Where: Mike-3

Belle hadn't slept a wink after Cooper'd come back with the biggest damned wolves she'd ever seen on his tail from his night time excursion. Normally, that kind of thing wouldn't have worried her so much, Cooper had dealt with more dangerous things than big damn wolves, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw him laying on the floor of the bar, unconscious, maybe even dead. Even half a bottle of Jack hadn't helped. So as soon as the sun rose, she was up. She decided to make breakfast simple, just some coffee and French toast and eggs.

( Shot nerves and whiskey. )

Who: Coop and Belle
Where: Mike-3
When: Morning

Coop felt the snug heat of her body against his even before he became fully aware. It must be Monday, his bleary thoughts informed him. There had been no alarm, and, yet, there was sun beating through the glass at his back. His arm tightened around his wife's waist a moment as he shifted, burying his face in her thick hair.

And then it suddenly hit him, and the force with which he sat up nearly knocked him out of bed. Belle was there, all right -- and thank God for that. In her presence, it was easy to believe the attack was a dream, something helped along by the fuzzy, surreal quality the world seemed to have about it this morning.

Not at his best in the morning, Coop almost settled back down beside her, but the sting of metal suddenly seeped into his mouth. What on earth was that, he wondered as his face twisted in disgust. A glass of water, he thought would help -- except that when he moved to get of bed, it suddenly dawned on him: this was not their home.

"Belle," he murmured softly as he reached for her shoulder, stilling the shiver running down his spine. He felt very childlike suddenly, like he had just fallen down the rabbit hole. "Belle, wake up."