The jukebox was playing some 80's band that Cassie couldn't remember the name of. Cole seemed to like it but she didn't care for this kind of music. It was too chaotic and with her mind, especially now the way things were; Cassie just didn't need any more of that. Just like she didn't need the alcohol she was putting in herself right now; her mind was a jumbled mess of things on an average day so she needn't muddy the waters with drink. She'd been grumpy all day since…and that was uncalled for. Cole didn't do anything bad to her; he wasn't in control anymore than she was. And maybe that pissed her off. When he'd said all the alcohol wasn't helping she had been snippy. "Jesus Christ, what are you, my mother!?" So she made a concerted effort to reform her attitude. Soon her blue-green eyes met Cole's form as he bobbed his head all the way back to the bar.

The whole conversation about their mission, work, and what he was doing back here and why, was all out of the way now and she was getting a little too tipsy for her own good. Well, who knows, maybe this was meant to happen just like Cole was meant to make it and come back to her, to the world here in 2015. And maybe the alcohol was helping a bit after all… The corners of her mouth tipped up into a smirk. "What band is this?" Cassie asks casually, not interested so much as simply wanting to hear his voice. Despite her earlier attitude…she'd missed him terribly and his voice, his mere presence, calmed her.

"I don't know. How should I know? I didn't look at the thing, I just picked the number." His lips pursed together as he sat down, eyebrows furrowing over his eyes, concentrated and serious constantly.

She shook her head. "You didn't look? So how did you pick the number if not by the sound of the title or the name of the band?"

He looked thoroughly confused, like what she was proposing was highly illogical. "I didn't have to see the names. I picked the number because of what it means to me. The letter that accompanies it was easy too because it was C, for Cassie." He almost blushed at the revelation he admitted, his eyes turning shifty.

She was taken aback. Even in her encumbered mind she realized the weight of what he'd just said. He picked the letter that accompanied the number for her, because her name began with C. Cassie couldn't stop herself; she blushed deeply at the same time as a genuine wide smile took her mouth and crinkled the corners of her eyes in complete and unbridled joy. "You…you did that for me? No one's ever done something like that for me before."

His eyes were on hers. They never left each other. "Yeah, I mean…you mean a lot to me Cassie."

Her smile fell instantly but it wasn't because his words upset her in some way. They shocked her; they shocked her because they – neither one of the two of them – had named what they felt toward one another before. "I do?" He nodded wordlessly and she continued. "I…can't tell you what that means to me, Cole."

"It's James…just…James. If you want…?"

"James…" She smiled again, softly. "You mean a lot to me too." It was low and temperate, even with no inflection. Cassie didn't know how she managed it but she did. "And I…I'm sorry about before…when…"

"Don't be sorry, Cas…you thought this whole thing was over because I was gone. It's normal to feel relieved and then get upset when…"

"No, no you don't understand, C- James." She pursed her lips tight for a moment before going on. "I'm not sorry because I was rude and abrupt and upset that this whole thing, the plague and the end of days, was still upon us. I'm sorry because…because I was rude and abrupt and upset and it led you to believe that I don't care about you."

"You still don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. Because that assumption is wrong and I had no reason, no reason at all to lead you down that road; I do care about you. I care a lot about you. I went…I went looking for you in Chechnya. Not because…not because some bomb went off and I wanted to verify you were gone and there was nothing left of you or the virus but because I couldn't bear the thought of you there hanging onto life, barely alive or wounded horribly, and not having me there with you. I want to be with you, James. I think about it all the time. And I know…logically, I know that isn't possible because likely you'll vanish when this is over and I'll be alone all over again but…" He looked on, not saying a word, just letting her speak her piece. "But I don't care about that; the only thing I've ever cared about this madly and this deeply is my work and I'm sick of that being the only thing in my life. You give me hope that there's more than that for me. You make me feel…like I've never felt before."

He took the glass of bourbon from her hand and set it down on the counter with a gentle glassy thud, taking the same hand that held the glass in his and giving it a firm but gentle squeeze.

"I'd splinter back in time to 2015 – or any year for that matter – a million times over if I thought for one minute that you loved me. I'd endure pain and death near the same amount of times to feel the touch of your hand and to hear your voice say my name…just once. If that doesn't say how I feel…I don't know what does."

Cassie smiled and gently squeezed his hand back. "It does. And…I do, too."

"I love you, James."

Last call was upon them soon enough and still they remained at the bar. They had danced, James and Cassie; they danced a few times to a few different songs, all slow, and they'd held onto each other tightly on every song, every second. Being in his arms was the closest Cassie would come to safe, to feeling like nothing at all was the matter and her world was solely dependent on him, revolved around him.

The last song ended and Cassie was just buzzed enough, her eyes glassy, feet unsure so she looked to James for her footing. He led her over to the door as the last of the other patrons left. "Cassie, I gotta get you home. It's late…"

"Or early…" She giggled, carefree. What did she care about the state of the world right now or anything except the two of them together, right then, here and now…?

"Cassie…" He would have smiled, maybe laughed, but he had to be strong for her. He always had to be strong for her. It was the one thing he was truly good at, being her support, her strength, her support when there was nothing else, and her reassurance. "It's late and you know it. C'mon…let's get you home."