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

Current Mood: awake
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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"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."

"No, I guess you're not."

It's an agreement with a raised eyebrow. Achieve nirvana or whatever? That's a serious undertaking and the way she phrases it just ... yeah, what can he say, really. There's a certain charm about her undeniably teenage ways sometimes.

And after that brief departure from the more serious discussion, he pulls his feet up on the table, sitting crosslegged on the short end of it.

"That's all I got, though."

In reference to thoughts never staying put ...

Y-YEAH GOOD LUCK GETTING HEATHER TO TAKE THAT SORT OF THING SERIOUSLY.

For someone with such... spiritual beginnings, Heather doesn't buy into a lot of stuff like that. Maybe because she has such spiritual beginnings.

But she shrugs her shoulders anyhow.

"S'okay. I figure if it were an easy problem to fix, someone would've come up with a foolproof way to do it and told everybody about it by now."

He looks contemplative for a moment, but when he opens his mouth it's almost with the air of a shrug.

"Mind has plagued man for as long as we remember."

It's one of the most outstanding examples of a blessing and a curse, the whole thinking process. But it's also a well-known fact - and at this point, a near-drained topic, which he points out in a matter-of-fact tone.

"But that's not exactly news."

"Yeah..."

She trails off for a moment, staring out the window again.

"... Do you think there's something that chooses who gets brought here and who goes back, or is it just random?"

"Do you remember when I asked the network about everyone's first pokémon?"

He's leaning forward slightly, hands resting in his lap, fingers woven together.

"Almost everyone could relate to theirs in a way too specific to be a coincidence. Someone got her favourite animal. Someone else got a starter heavily referencing an important aspect of his world. The list goes on - and then there's you and me."

The only ones he knows so far to, well ... be afraid of their starters. It wouldn't have been too bad on his end except that old edginess around birds skyrocketed due to the size they had here. Which she'd no doubt noticed the other day.

And then there's the warning ... The owls are not what they seem. The only clue he hadn't yet figured out. (The only clue he will never figure out.) To end up with a starter like Holmes ... it really was too specific. Someone did their research.

He gives a brief smile, as if shaking that off.

"I'd say that indicates we're chosen somehow."

"... I guess that makes sense. 'Specially since..."

She trails off for a moment. She's never quite admitted this to anybody before, or at least not eloquently enough to get across her real point.

"... 'Specially since, if there's so many other worlds... or hell, even if there WEREN'T... the chances of people that we actually know or have even met coming from our own is like... infinitesimally small, right? Like, it should be right next to ZERO. But..."

She pauses, again, swallowing.

"... I've had three people I know from back home show up here. ... And even more who I didn't necessarily know, but who were involved in... things I did know. Personal things."

Her knees were already tugged up to her chest, but while she spoke, she'd added her arms to the mix, wrapping them around her shoulders. Probably the ice cream chill. ... Or at least, that's what she'd rather he think-- although when she looks back at him, her brows are deeply furrowed and it's clear that... this is something that's really been bothering her.

"If it were random, that wouldn't be possible, realistically. ... Right?"

His expression softens from the more business-like I-am-explaining-a-theory face he had when she does that. It looks like she's protecting herself from something and he's not exactly unfamiliar with the pose.

"No. It wouldn't."

While it might be possible, it's so unlikely he might as well agree.

And once again there's the silence that says that she's free to elaborate on that, if she feels like it. If she wants to. Because it sounds like there might be something else behind her words, and even if there isn't, well - he's got nothing pressing to say in this exact moment anyway.

She very much is.

When he replies, she nods a little bit and licks her lips thoughtfully, eyes averted. She's sort of just staring at a spot on the tile floor in front of her.

When she speaks again, it's clear she's a little uncertain whether she should say anything at all. She'd told Cooper about Vincent already, but... not the second.

"If there is something at play here... it's definitely trying to jerk me around."

"Someone else you know showed up?"

It's almost a statement instead of a question. He's pretty sure this is the case. Has been meaning to ask about Claudia, actually. Sometimes ... you just know.

The timing was of course also a factor. She'd shown up very closely after Vincent and after Heather had told him all that information about the Order, so sure, Cooper might have been a little inclined to suspicion - but it had been years since he'd last talked to someone so convinced of the existence of God.

(A female God, which is also something of note.)

Another pause, and another nod.

It won't surprise her to find out that Cooper had already talked to Claudia-- or that he'd already suspected her of having a connection to the cult Heather had been telling him more and more about as of late.

Honestly, as maladjusted as Claudia is, Heather knows she must've been talking to some people lately.

"Someone worse."

"Go on," he says, voice quiet, tone kind. He's listening.

It's probably not surprising that these past few months, he's started to genuinely care about her. He didn't really, at first - had just written her off as any other teenager. And even though Cooper's not sure when he started getting curious about her past (that was probably due to a number of little things), it's not exactly difficult to understand why learning about it has him feeling all kinds of sympathy for her.

And not only that - on some level he's a little frustrated that he can't help, somehow. Because that's what he does, has always done: try to set things right. Try to help. Do the Right Thing.

But there's nothing he can do about anything in Johto and it's left him without the feeling of purpose that accompanied his job. He stopped introducing himself with his title many months ago, but somehow it still feels ... almost empty, not having that anymore.

But he can still listen. He's always been good at that. He uncrosses his legs and shifts a little, hands gripping the edges of the table almost as if bracing himself for what Heather might tell him.

Someone worse, huh?

In the almost-a-year since she had spoken to Cooper for the very first time, it's fair to say that not once has Heather ever been completely open with him. And to be even more fair, she probably still won't be completely open with him, on account of the fact that the number of people she's completely open with usually hovers around a steady '0'. But... it's equally fair to say that, after the way she'd spent months dodging each and every question aimed her way like they were punches (as opposed to the polite taps on the shoulder they had been), and the wary reluctance of even her willing confessions about the cult later on, this is the most open she's ever been around the FBI agent.

Patience and a kind tone really do work wonders, given time.

She still doesn't look at him, but the way she sighs makes it obvious that an answer is coming.

"... The woman who killed my father. She's here in Johto."

... The words sound like they're angry. Should be angry. And there is anger-- a little shudder originating deep down in her chest. But it's not there as much as it should be.

No, Heather sounds... tired. And a little confused.

And lost.

Oh, man.

His mind comes to a complete stop for a moment. He'd figured it might have been an Order member, but that it would be that particular one ... that's more than you could ask anyone to handle.

There are a lot of ways he could answer that. That must be hard for you - how are you feeling - does your father know ...

"Claudia?" is what wins though, after another little pause, and he's still quiet.

At first she looks up at him, and her expression makes it obvious that she hadn't been expecting him to put two and two together that quickly.

But then her face darkens again and she looks away, tightening her arms around herself.

"You talked to her. Did she tell you?"

"No."

She hadn't really told him anything.

"She talked about God and this being paradise."

"... Pfheh. Yeah."

The sour note in Heather's voice indicates what she thinks of THAT.

She's at least relieved that Claudia hadn't like... told Cooper that Heather was the one responsible for them all being here or something. That's actually something she's been a little worried about happening.

"Well, she did it. She killed my dad."

Not with her own bare hands... but she'd been just as responsible for it as if she'd raised the blade herself, as far as Heather was concerned... besides, she had proven herself capable of killing in the end, anyway...

"And now she's here and everything's so complicated and I just don't know what to do."

Those last words all came out in a rush, and her frustration is completely transparent. ... But man, 'complicated'? Wouldn't your father's MURDERER showing up be the most awful but LEAST complicated thing ever?

It would be ... unless she knew the murderer before the murder took place.

That's what he thinks, anyway, as he picks up on that particular word. It's what he'd felt after Windom murdered Caroline, even if he hadn't quite put it into words at the time. Windom had been his best friend and partner - and he'd very nearly killed him alongside his wife. I took the boy right to the edge that time.

Cooper still has some unresolved feelings towards that. And while he definitely doesn't linger on that thought right now, it crosses his mind as he looks at her.

(It bothers him that he can so easily draw that kind of parallell between them.)

He sighs. And isn't sure whether he should ask or not, but in the end decides to - treading as lightly as he can.

"Did you know her before?"

This time, Heather doesn't look up in surprise at his correct conclusion. He's proven himself to be quite a sharp individual and let's face it, Heather wears her heart on her sleeve when she's really upset. She does, however, cringe slightly. It's not quite a wince... more just an uncomfortable shift in position and her brows crease upwards, the frustration mingling with plain old upset.

When she eventually speaks, it's with a small, slightly-cracked voice that sounds as guilty as it does angry.

Angry because no matter how much time had passed, the bloodthirsty, white-hot rage for her father's murderer that had filled Heather from head to toe like molten lava had never been sated.

Guilty because no matter how angry she was, deep down she knew that Claudia couldn't help what she had grown up into any more than Heather could help having her own roots in that town, and even worse, because she'd gotten her second chance and left her little sister behind.

And small because apart from her own father... this is the first time she's told anyone that Claudia was more than just the killer.

"... She was my best friend."

... Which might sound a little odd, since Claudia is so much older than the tousled girl sitting there and very much looking her young age right now.

Edited 2011-10-04 05:57 (UTC)

That's not the first thing he picks up on, though, in her statement. He takes it at face value, nods and looks away, and for just a second is seemingly lost in thought.

That ... is quite the betrayal. And he knows that kind of hurt as well. Touching a hand to his face when he looks back at her, he hesitates - because again, there are a lot of things he could say, and he's not sure if either one of them is right.

And that's when he does note that there would have been quite an age difference. Not that that observation does anything but add to his uncertainty in how to handle the information he's been given.

He winds up not saying anything - not really. A simple "Yeah?" wins out in the end and it's more a breath than a word, but he IS giving her his full attention.

Unfortunately, around here is where Heather's ability to vocalize her issues just sort of... fails. Storming, raging emotions aren't exactly uncommon for people Heather's age, but ones like this...

She wasn't lying at all when she said it was complicated.

Even she doesn't know how to word all that pent-up feeling inside her.

"... I just don't know what to do. She ruined my life. I ... I want to kill her. I just wanna feel her NECK snap in my hands. But at the same time, I... I just... I remember, and she remembers, and I don't-- ... I can't change the way things ARE and I'm just--!"

Her voice had risen a little but, in a rare display of self-consciousness over her own anger, she quiets down towards the end and lapses back into silence, raising a hand to her face.

And that's where Cooper will hop down from the table. The floor is still chilly and the renewed contact with it makes him shiver a little but it's easy to ignore for the few steps it takes to walk over to her.

He remains standing for a small moment, then crouches down across from her. He balances surprisingly well on the balls of his feet. There's a polite distance between them, but should he want to, he's close enough to reach out to her - right now though, that's not what he's doing.

He recalls others he's tried to comfort lately -- Harry (not her father, of course, but the Sheriff), France. Appejack. He doesn't think he's ever been particularly good at it - though sincere, he tends to be blunt. Sometimes bordering on inconsiderate, even if that's far from what he aims for.

He'll just take a chance.

"Helpless?"

She doesn't mind the bluntness. In all honesty, most of the time, she actually appreciates that sort of thing. Especially after her father's death... she'd gotten so sick of the adults in her life, whether it was at school or the counseling Douglas had nudged her into signing up for, tip-toeing around her like she was a bomb about to go off, spouting out saccharinely-sweet comforts and naiively-optimistic bits of self-help advice that could have come out of a vending machine of Standard Comforting Responses for a quarter as far as Heather was concerned.

Blunt was honest.

Heather likes it when people respect her enough to be honest with her.

Because she's had it up to HERE with getting verbally patted on the head by well-meaning but clueless people.

So when Cooper sums it all up in one word, at first she cringes, because god dammit... she hates that word. She hates how true it is. But, because she's an honest person at heart under all the artful dodging, she nods.

"Yeah."

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