Cooper Evans sighed as his knuckles hovered an inch from the door. His lips parted just slightly, his lungs struggled but managed to gasp in a long gulp of hair, and his index finger managed to snag against the wood before it. But then, the werewolf managed to smile, as he reminded him of his pacts and promises and the secrets he now held so close to his chest -uncomfortably balanced, but easily torn open. The night Renwick had came an inch from killing him had changed the Auror, made him realize he was handling everything wrong.

The lycanthrope had hurriedly packed clothes for himself and baby bags for the twins the following morning, before hastly leaving London with little more than a note sent to the MLE. It had not been fear that strangled him into running, but an intense need to get away and regroup with himself. Ever since he had lost his wife, he knew, he had fallen into tiny pieces that needed reassembling. And reassemble he had, in the warmth of the Australian sun -he had regrouped, and planned, and for a month he had prepared. A week ago, he had returned, reclaimed his usual life and pretended he was better.

In truth, he was only different.

Still smiling softly, Cooper allowed his knuckles to rap against the door before him, ready as he ever could be. During his month away, there was one person that had owled almost every day -even though he had never received a reply. Each letter had revealed more worry than the previous one, and upon his return to London it had taken him a week to work up the balls to pay Gale a visit. This Saturday morning, though, he had set out with determination -and a basket full of jars of honey and pears that would certainly help him out.

He set the basket down now, as he waited for the professor to open the door. At first, his heart beat accelerated -until a few minutes passed, and Coop began to wonder if he had actually not mistaken the address that his mate had mentioned as his new, weekend home. It was only a few seconds after that he heard sounds behind the back. Picking up the basket, Cooper walked through a path of grass and dandelions to the other side of the cottage.

And there he was, bent over and focusing on something on the ground, blonde hair forming a curtain around his face. Coop's nerves worsened, but he forced himself to look calm. "I was worried I wouldn't find you," he said, placing the basket on the ground and spreading his arms out at either side. "I may not deserve it, but how about giving an old friend a hug?"

Life on the farm was more peaceful than Gale could ever imagine, and the springtime was turning over a new life around him. Everywhere he looked there were more sprouts rising from the earth, and he waited with eager anticipation to see what it was that was coming up. The fresh air and warm sunlight was the same as any therapy session, and he realized very much that this was what was missing in his life.

Chaz and he had been separated now for almost a month, and though the time apart was a mutual agreement Gale still wondered what he was doing and stopped himself many times from writing overly maternal letters. He was a big boy. He could take care of himself. However, the one set of owls he could not stop himself from was that to Cooper Evans.

That first week he had gone to check in on the small little family, Gale was surprised to see the lights out and the house almost...empty of life. He didn't worry at first, though the seed was there and growing with every weekend that came and there wasn't any sign of the werewolf. For the weeks that followed Gale wrote as many letters as he could manage, while checking the newspapers too. He started to ask around, and in desperate attempts even when to a few of his contacts to exchange a few favors for any bit of information he could find on Cooper. The worry became panic but eventually that even turned to just a numb ache that reminded him it wasn't his place, and if anything his new life taught him that life went on. Even if it hurt.

The afternoon had found him weeding through the garden, enjoying the little bit of warmth despite how the threat of storm clouds was gathering in the distance. The wind was already howling and knocked a few of the empty pots over just in time for him to the steps of a man coming his way.

"Cooper..."Cooper didn't have to ask, those words were never needed on his lips--a thousand years could come and go and Gale would still be pleased to see him. He came to his feet quickly and closed the distance between them with enough force that the air was forced from his lungs, and with a small huff he tightened his hold. Gale didn't have words to say, nothing that was appropriate for the time, but as his arms went around his neck and his face buried there as well, he whispered, "You fucking bastard..."