route_1065 | Leave my door open just a crack, 'cause I feel like such an insomniac

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Current Location: Ecruteak City Inn

Entry tags:

Leave my door open just a crack, 'cause I feel like such an insomniac

Who: Dale Cooper and Heather Mason
Where: the Ecruteak City Inn
When: Wednesday night, 2:33 AM
Summary: Losing beloved friends and gaining unwanted reminders of the past in payment... none of that makes for a peaceful night's sleep, not even in peaceful little Ecruteak City. Some people think that the best cure for a churning, restless mind on bad-dream-filled nights is to indulge the sweet tooth a bit. Which is why Heather is slipping down to the (closed) inn kitchen in search of some ice cream, when she encounters the only thing worse than being forced to remedy a lack of ice cream by 'borrowing' some: getting busted by a cop for doing just that.
.... Except that it turns out he's down there for the exact same reason she is!

...

... She won't tell if he won't.
Rating: G
Log:
For anyone who's grown accustomed to spending time in the cities where the population's collective bedtime seems not to roll entirely around until at least three in the morning, it's surprisingly jarring to suddenly find oneself in a town where it's the exact opposite.

The town of Ecruteak sat in the middle of a blanket of forest sort of like an elderly cat-- sleepy and quiet, save for the quiet purr of the wind through the trees and shingled rooftops. Far from the busybodies of places like Goldenrod, the population of Ecruteak was old and happy, and therefore on principal, virtually all activity in the city seemed to die out entirely by the time the clocks hit 1:00 AM.

Peaceful was a good word to describe the place. No far-off music (apart from the everlasting 8-bit soundtrack, of course), no voices filtering in through the windows as groups of nightlife-enjoyers walked past down the street, no clunky footsteps of people going up and down the stairs of the inns at all hours of the night. Nothing to keep your average weary traveler from their beauty sleep, not even on a warm night like this one.

... Unfortunately, for one Heather Mason, the it was that very silence itself that was keeping her awake.

And-- after a whole hour of tossing and turning after startling awake in a cold sweat around one-thirty, she knew that even if sleep were eventually to come, it wouldn't be a sleep she wanted to slip into, nor would it mute all the noise in her own head.

Which was why, a quietly-shut door and a few creaky wooden steps later, she was standing in the dark Employees-Only kitchen of the Ecruteak City inn in a tank-top and boxer shorts, scratching the back of her ankle absentmindedly with one bare foot as she tried to work out which stainless-steel fridge door was the one that led to the freezer component, and whether or not it would make much noise if she just... opened it and took a look at what was inside.

If there had been room service available at all hours like there had been in the big Goldenrod Hotel, she'd have done the nice, legal thing and ordered something like a responsible human being. But THIS place practically shut down at midnight (what the hell?!), so she couldn't. Really, there was just no alternative.

Besides, they wouldn't miss a little bit of ice cream, right?

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"Beats me."

Heather isn't exactly the most culturally-aware kid in the world.

Dolloping a generous portion of rocky road into her bowl, she then sticks the remaining cartons back into the fridge, licking a smudge of coffee ice cream off of her thumb as she does so.

To be fair, he's as surprised at this scenario as she is.

Even in the beginning when she was still more or less convinced that he was nosy and deserving of being met with a metaphorical dodgeroll every time he started getting curious enough to ask her questions, Heather had always been sort of fond of him. He was a detective, after all, and she had a soft spot for those-- okay, even if she had needed to reconcile that somewhat, considering he was an FBI agent and not a freelancer like Douglas. The addition of a policey side had made given her a somewhat negative image, despite the fact that she didn't honestly have any hard feelings.

But fondness aside, this?

Was just so supremely out of left field that she's kind of re-evaluating everything she thought she'd figured out about him.

But she grins at his amused expression, picking up her bowl again.

"You get the general idea, anyway."

Coop nods that he does as he pours a healthy amount of sprinkles over the mixed flavours in his bowl. Having moved over to the side table at this point as opposed to the floor - it's just that much easier to prepare ice cream at that height than on ground level - he perches on the edge of it and balances the bowl on one of his legs.

It's ... pretty cold, but it's fine. He woke up a while ago, anyway.

"Have you heard of the Glasgow ice cream wars?" he asks while passing her the sprinkles, figuring she'd like them about as much as he does. It's trivia time, apparently, but it was a natural connection to make in his head - Scotland and ice cream, after all.

Edited 2011-09-19 17:26 (UTC)

Taking the sprinkles (because HELLS yeah), she shakes out a slightly smaller amount onto her own ice cream before setting the tin down, looking back up at him with a PSHHHT SERIOUSLY? grin.

"No... but I WANT to. Gimme the details."

DEETS PLZ.

Anything with 'ice cream' and 'war' in the same sentence had to be worth hearing about.

In a way, it is woth hearing about, but he'll probably disappoint as far as entertainment value goes - that 'war' is much more serious than the name lets on.

"In the early eighties there was a lot of conflict among ice cream van operators in Glasgow," he starts after a pause to visibly relish in all of the sugary goodness, eyes closing briefly and everything. Food and him have a very, very loving relationship. Especially food that in the end isn't all that good for you.

"It mostly had to do with territory. It was all very violent, with raids and shootings of rivalling vans."

Another small moment of silence, but this time it's with a slightly faraway look out the small window. The moon isn't visible on this end so it's still fairly dark.

"No one was harmed until April 1984 when the situation culminated in arson, resulting in the death of six. Excessive for ice cream vendors - it turns out their business was a front for drug trafficking."

And that's the story, really. He gives her a small humourless smile before he resumes picking at his ice cream.

Aww, boooo Cooper. Heather hates history. :(

... Although to be fair, she props her chin on one palm as he begins to talk.

"... That sounds like the most hardcore set of ice cream companies I've ever heard of."

SHE SOUNDS A LITTLE IMPRESSED. ... And a little contemplative, actually. Poking a spoonful of rocky road into her mouth, she just rolls it around thoughtfully, idly wondering if the drug-runners of the cult ever resorted to crazy schemes like that to get their business done.

"There are actually very few company chains in that line of work. Most ice cream vans are privately owned and operated."

... Cooper, why do you even know this.

He scratches a few sprinkles from the edge of his bowl and shifts it a little. His knee is the next victim to the cold and he balances that bowl expertly on it.

"Really? So like, I could buy an ice cream truck and just use it if I wanted to?"

... She doesn't want to, but hey. Just for the sake of curiosity.

She's had her bowl on her knee the whole time and is kind of regretting it now on account of not even having pajama pants to block the cold. Shuddering a little, she shifts the bowl so she's just holding it in her hand. ... And looks at the big white ring it left in the skin on her knee. Haha weird.

"You'd need a vendor's license."

But once the majority of the paperwork is settled, yep, she COULD do that. Or she could just get an ice cream truck and use it anyway, though she'd probably be fined for it - but there's no need for a license to own one, so that's a start.

And yeah, he's pretty sure she's not seriously considering that, but he can't help those details to pop up in his head anyway. He's been told he thinks too much. He's inclined to agree, most of the time ... and typically it's not to do with trivial (well mostly) things like these.

Pushing that away, though, he eats some of the pear ice cream. There's that, some mango, and mostly chocolate left. And still quite a few sprinkles, which make for a very small crunching noise as he chews on them, head tilted slightly as he observes her with that very common hint of a smile.

She'd probably make a good ice cream vendor, actually.

Coop, calm yo brains. You'll give yourself a headache. ... Especially with all this cold ice cream they're eating.

Heather's actually almost done with her bowl, which seems like a surefire recipe for brainfreeze, but she never has seemed particularly concerned with the consequences of her actions when it comes to that sort of thing.

By the time she starts scraping the bottom of the bowl with her spoon to get that liquidy melted puddle of combined flavors that's left after all the solid stuff is gone, she's ready to start up conversation again.

"So... what were you really doing down here?"

The question is casual on the surface.

Yes, on the surface. He'd been more or less waiting for her to ask. And and while he could repeat his earlier answer - "same as you", because he believes that's true - well ... he's good at avoiding topics, but that would be a bit obvious.

"I couldn't sleep."

He keeps both expression and voice carefully neutral when he answers. He's picking at the few remains of his own ice cream at this point and looks up at her fleetingly before he finishes the last of it as well and sets the bowl aside, spoon clinking lightly against it when he does.

Yeah, and now that she's actually seen him loosen up, spent a good while talking with him and watching him smile a boy's smile instead of a professional one, she notices that forced neutrality. Before, she'd thought it was just part of the cop thing... but she's starting to learn better.

"You, too?"

She doesn't set her bowl down just yet, instead running a finger along the inside to collect whatever last dregs of ice cream there are.

"I couldn't sleep, either. ... It's too quiet here."

Except that wasn't the real reason...

Well, in many ways, it's part of the cop thing. While not directly responsible for a lot of Cooper's well-hidden issues, it's definitely played a part in shaping him this way ... this well-meaning, genuinely good guy with some levels of emotional detachment and a surprisingly pessimistic outlook on the world.

He's actually very, very sad. But he's learnt to hide it and pretend he isn't most of the time, and right now, that shows in the way he redirects the topic back to her:

"Used to the city?"

And while it is in part an avoidance tactic ... he cares, too. He says it that way to show that he understands there's more to it than that. In that somewhat-gentle way of his, that quietly invites for elaboration.

Plus ... he'd rather have her elaborate, than her have him.

Sticking her finger in her mouth, she nods.

"Yeah... Small towns and me don't get along so well, I guess."

... Not... that this place was ANYTHING like Silent Hill, even with the holy grounds around its edges and remote, peaceful qualities. If anything, maybe it's like what Silent Hill might have been a little like before everything went bad. ... And, of course, without so much of the kitschy quality of a tourist trap, too.

So really, despite her tendency to be unsettled by too much quiet, that wasn't really what was getting to her.

Which she notes, withdrawing her hand and trying to scrape more ice cream out of the bowl.

"I mean... I like it here, don't get me wrong, it's like... wicked nice. But..."

He's good at what he does, so she'd gone and fallen into the trap of elaboration. This whole situation between them tonight, in all its comforting absurdity, had loosened her tongue a lot more than Cooper has probably ever had the luck to bear witness to. ... But he's not off the hook yet, himself... she's just not as good at getting people to talk as he is.

"It's very fickle."

Drawing out the 'very' just slightly, it's a guess to how she'd finish that sentence - although a pretty good one. He didn't miss the feed that explained that incredibly big owl she'd had when he ran into her last ... he saw it much later, of course, but he did, and it wasn't very difficult to understand the sitaution. Besides, people disappearing is always a relevant topic in Johto.

(He's still feeling the loss of the ponies, somewhere. It saddened him much more than he'd expected.)

She thinks on that for a second or two, and then rolls her shoulders in a 'sorta' gesture.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that..."

... About Johto more than Ecruteak itself... which, on second thought, may have been what he was going for. Because if there was ANY word to describe this world... 'fickle' was indeed a very good one. She'd already known that, months go. She'd learned it when her father had disappeared the first time.

... But she'd been reminded forcibly of it, just in case she'd forgotten (she hadn't), on the day she'd walked into this peaceful town.

It hadn't just been Snake, really... She was sad about that, sure, but... somehow, there had been closure. The fact that he'd left her his headband made it feel a little more like it had been something he'd planned on... something she could, with a little convincing, be okay with.

... It was the fact that Aoko Nakamori had disappeared literally a scant few hours after that with no delay, no warning whatsoever, that had shaken Heather up so soundly that her brains still felt rattled. She'd known all about the disappearances, and lost more than a few people ... but she'd never had someone disappear when she'd literally said 'Okay, I'm gonna pass out for a couple hours. See you for dinner in a few!' to their face just mere hours before.

".... N'I feel kinda helpless."

... Yeah, she's definitely not talking about Ecruteak being too quiet for her to fall asleep anymore.

There's a small moment of silence when he gives her a long look. It might be a little searching, sure, but it's ultimately quite different from the other times he's studied her this way. This is more like considering an equal, maybe even trying to read a friend. Because this is the first time he can really relate to what she's saying.

'Helpless' is another good word, really. It sums up a lot of his recent feelings towards Johto nicely. Especially after that conversation he had with Otacon a month or so ago - incredibly pessimistic in nature, but the conclusion that everything that happens in Johto is meaningless still seems ... well ... very true. Convincing. Tangible, even.

Which, in addition, calls for frustration and sadness, but the helplessness remains important in the mixed feelings. Mixed, because he genuinely wants to like Johto and everything in it. There are times when he does. Times when he genuinely loves it. But Johto has that way of taking an unexpected turn and leaving you stripped of that affection for quite some time.

"I think a lot of us are."

Mind still on the meaninglessness of everything, he knows it's at least true for him.

That's one difference between them... no matter what happens or how cruel it is to lose people, knowing that even if they come back, they may not even remember you... Heather doesn't think it's meaningless. Can't think it's meaningless.

Her ~~second~~ third chance with her father... meeting other people who'd lived through the horrors of the town she'd been forced to help create... getting the chance to be a regular kid again.

There was no way it had no meaning.

Maybe she'll tell Cooper so, if it comes up in the conversation... but in the meantime, she sure can relate to loving the place and then suddenly having it turn on you. Johto had given her friends, but also plopped enemies she'd thought were long buried right into her lap.

It had given her father back, but taken away the man who had gotten her through his disappearance in the first place.

She wants to love Johto, but sometimes it's so hard.

Right now, though, she averts her eyes under Cooper's penetrating stare, looking out the windows above the sink. Not that there's anything to see out there but darkness.

"... I don't like feeling helpless."

There's a note of petulance in her voice.

He doesn't completely disagree regarding there being meaning within Johto. But ultimately everything points to the fact that you won't remember a thing. And that is what takes away all the meaning - and it's one of the things that at times weighs him down.

He really, really wants to remember this place. Getting to know people and growing attached to the pokémon is something practically unavoidable - he's embraced it, and it's something he wants to keep.

But more than anything it's talking to someone and knowing they could very well be gone the next day that has him keep people at arm's length ... and he feels himself doing that with Heather even now.

Still, though, he sends a smile her way. --it's technically a smile. But it doesn't have any humour and very little comfort and it doesn't remain when he speaks.

"No one does. But it's still an all too common aspect of our lives."

Heather, of course, had learned the opposite lesson.

Take advantage of your time here before it's too late and NEVER be afraid to say 'I love you'.

She'd already tried keeping people at arm's length-- or more specifically, kept a specific person at arm's length. ... Or even MORE specifically, she just hadn't made any sort of effort to bring him closer than arm's length.

The end result was an anguish when he'd disappeared that was far worse than it could possibly have been if she'd taken advantage of the time she had and treated her second chance like what it was instead of hiding from it.

Her brows furrow. It's a pouty expression and it's almost funny as a response to the topic at hand, but all the same...

"Well, it's a stupid aspect."

Well ... there's been no second chances for Cooper in Johto, so he doesn't hold the same perspective. There are no familiar faces here. But when he thinks about it, he mostly considers it a relief.

Most of the people he misses are long since dead. Seeing them alive again after so many years would be nerve-wracking. And then there's the distinct possibility that someone he'd rather not see again shows up - Windom Earle. BOB.

He does miss Harry and Albert and some of the people in Twin Peaks, but those are people he knows he'll see again if he could just go back.

He stopped looking for a way home a while ago. But he's been thinking, lately, that maybe he should start trying again. Start trying harder. The chances are seemingly slim but if there's anything he's learnt in his life, and especially with the FBI, it's that hard work pays off.

Helplessness and all.

"Maybe. Still doesn't change the fact that it sticks around."

Heather had once been determined to look for a way home... more because she was indignant about having been taken anywhere against her will than anything else. But as the time passed... she'd realized that she had it better here than anywhere.

She heaves a sigh in response to that, eyes narrowing down at her empty bowl for a moment or two.

"... I think I know why I don't like the quiet. It lets me think too hard."

The sounds of the outside world were a lot quieter than the ones in her own head, half the time... sometimes drowning them out was the easiest way to get some peace and quiet.

"Maybe you should try meditation."

Because that's what he'd picked up for the same problem. Meditation is what helped him seek refuge from his own head to begin with, and it's with those techniques he's been able to keep a lot of his thoughts in check.

He's pretty sure he would have gone a little crazy had he not employed those methods on a few particular occasions.

But he realizes meditation is hardly for everyone, and so he explains, rather simply,

"It worked for me."

"Meditation?"

She raises a brow, looking a little bit skeptical.

"I dunno if I'm zen enough to pull that off."

That would require, like... sitting still.

Well, not necessarily. While sitting still is helpful, it's not exactly a requirement. That said, Cooper was hardly "zen" enough when he first started practising it. And that particular wording has some of that amusement back in his eyes when he gives her a brief, gentle smile.

"You could be. With practise."

It's actually not that hard. It's mostly an exercise in focus and concentration. If you can focus on one thing for long enough - a mantra, an object, an idea, or an action (like breathing) - everything else will disappear (in a manner of speaking), leaving you with a quiet mind.

"It takes a while to get right but it helps calm the mind. If you ever decide it might be worth a try I'd be happy to teach you."

"Ehhhhh. I'm just not a very meditative person."

... As... he would learn if she ever DID wind up asking him to teach her.

She's just too teenage.

... And too... Heather.

"I guess I'll keep that in mind if I ever feel the need to, uh... achieve nirvana or whatever."

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