route_1065 | five days after black and red collide

Entry tags:

five days after black and red collide

Who: Dale Cooper and Heather Mason
Where: The Ecruteak City Dinerrrr
When: December 14th
Summary: After those three days that were lost a lot of people probably had weird dreams about things they can't for the life of them remember. Coop and Heather are two of these people. And they've got some things to talk about. _{(..or as Kit excellently summarized it, this is AWKWARD CANON ENCOUNTERS: THE THREAD.)}
Rating: Oh umm, PG for possibly triggery conversation?
Log:

It's absolutely freezing out and the snow is falling thick and heavy when Dale Cooper makes his way to the Ecruteak City Diner, jacket collar folded up against the wind and hands buried deep in his pockets for what little warmth there is to be found there. He's not particularly used to this kind of winter despite having grown up with something resembling it - he blames having lived in California for the past nine years where the winters are, honestly, quite pitiful attempts at everything the season is meant to be.

Especially when compared to Johto. Good old sparkling completely-covered-in-snow Johto. The weatherman had announced a break in the persistent precipitation yesterday, but today's weather is another prime example of just how trustworthy those people are. The weather gods must be at odds with them. Either that or the deities have a not-so-secret penchant for practical jokes.

Needless to say he's cold and shivering a little once he enters the diner, gratefully shutting out the wind and swirling snow behind him as the little chime above the door welcomes him inside. It's warm in there - warm and quiet. Doesn't look like a lot of people felt like braving the weather to get a cup of coffee better than what the Inn can offer (which really isn't all that good, in his opinion, entirely too mild) but Cooper is a man of habit ... or standard, if you will, and if he's going to start the day with coffee it better be a (damn) good cup of the stuff.

And that's what he's set on, really. He takes his coat off even as he walks through the area to one of his favourite booths: by the windows, just a little secluded, comfortable seats. He's got a few things to ponder and brought one of his notebooks, but his first priority is to allow himself to just melt into the seat for a second there.

...and man that is sweet. But what will be even sweeter is coffee. And possibly something sugary.

Waaaiiiitress? c:

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... Yikes.

It's the first time in awhile that he's sounded... interrogative with her.

Her own automatic reaction is a defensive one as well. She straightens up, frowning at him. It's a sort of resentful look-- because yeah. He totally just called her on it, and she knows it.

She's not done yet, though.

It would seem that even NOW, there's still some things she doesn't want to admit to Cooper... although for different reasons than before.

"Hey, no need to get snappy. I just... it stuck with me, all right? Fire's kind of... a thing. With me. Can't you just tell me what it means?"

"It was found written in blood on a murder scene."

Which he throws at her to ... well, shock her into fessing up.

"As far as I know it has nothing to do with you and if it does, I want you tell me."

There's an unpsoken now at the end of it and he looks at her in a way that's best described as intense. The way he's trying to be the leader, adult, interrogator, cop, whatever right now comes from both his uneasiness and need to be in charge of it. And by extension, her - at least if she's going to keep her game up.

He just really wants her to cough it up so he can take a look at it, examine it and see what the meaning is. Because, guess what? He's pretty damn sure she didn't listen and wouldn't think to remember those words from his murmur alone.

And that is a pretty worrying thought because where else would she have heard them?

... O-oh. Well then.

The sullen look disappears and is replaced with a sort of wide-eyed expression. If shocking her into 'fessing up was indeed his intent, it's doing its job. Because she hadn't expected that. Even with the phrase she'd seen written being the same one that he had uttered, she hadn't... truly thought that it... or the terrifying thing that she'd seen ... had anything to do with Cooper.

If anything? She'd thought it might have been some... weird arcane phrase or something that he knew the meaning to.

This paints it in an entirely new light, and it's not one she likes.

Her first response is a rather disappointing (if attitude-less, at the very least) "... Oh."

She doesn't say anything else right off the bat, but her expression alone probably tells him that wasn't what she expected-- or WANTED-- to hear.

Nothing to do with her...

Well, she'd be perfectly happy and willing to believe that, if that voice hadn't... told her things. She didn't remember the specifics, not all of them anyway. But they'd been things no one had known, no one COULD have known.

It had said her name.

And even then, maybe-- maybe-- she'd have been able to assume it was some nightmare, some vision of a figure from someone else's world and life that just happened to be a particularly nasty prankster.

But she had seen it before.

And that meant... well, she didn't know what it meant.

Just that suddenly, the things she was able to remember from that weekend (... and the weekend almost a whole year before) were very worrying.

"... What... kind of murder?"

Her tone is still fairly casual, but there's no hiding the uncertainty in it now.

Edited 2011-12-19 05:40 (UTC)

He notices. He refuses to jump to conclusions but he is fearing she'll say she's seen the man (men?) that committed that murder.

"It was a young girl. Beaten to death."

He doesn't want to say much more than that but his eyes and tone have both softened some. It's reinforced by his eyes drifting for a second.

It never does get much easier, his job. And there'd always been something particularly striking with the murder of Laura Palmer ... something that could be felt even beyond the obvious reasons that set the case apart.

But it's been a while since he's thought about it - again, with the exception of those three days and the ones immediately following it. These two days. His thoughts about the case are a just a little bit slower than he would have liked but it still doesn't take a lot for him to dig up the memories, the images ... the town in itself.

With its firs and lakes and all too many crimes for a town that looks so welcoming on the surface.

And when he looks back to Heather it's with the kind of look that really just says, do you see?

As if it couldn't get any worse.

Even without any of the rest, hearing about the murder of a young girl is bad enough. It hits spots with easily-opened scars.

She swallows. Hard.

Oh shit.

Oh, shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Around that point, a passing old man on his way out back into the cold drops his cigarette in the ashtray at the table behind them. Semi-automatically, Heather stands up, resting one knee on her seat as she does so, to pick up the ash tray, getting ready to empty it.

Although her back is partway turned to Cooper, her growing discomfort is probably obvious.

"Did you ever-- ... who was the killer? ... Why'd they do it?"

That name... what was that name he had asked her about, back then? He had asked her if she knew anything...

That's a tricky question to answer and Cooper is well aware of how people typically percieve possession. Given the nature of Heather's own story, he's sure she wouldn't dismiss the possibility, but that doesn't mean he's still not sure what to say.

Leland Palmer did it, but it wasn't his doing.

Not that he's going to let her know about either him or BOB that easily though. Partly because as any good lawman he's got it firmly ingrained in him to not reveal too much information about the nature of a case - even a closed one.

Second, there's something important she's not saying.

"I'm not sure." And that's the truth. He doesn't know. "Heather ... what is it you're not telling me?"

Kinder, now. Asking instead of demanding. He can tell there's something really really wrong here and he's getting increasingly alarmed.

Yeah, possession is more than in the range of things that Heather doesn't actually have to suspend her disbelief too far to accept. After all... similar had happened in Silent Hill. Probably more than once...

But his reply does little to alleviate her worries.

Picking up the ashtray, she turns back around, picking the still-smoking cigarette out of it absent-mindedly. Her mind is clearly elsewhere.

"I, uh..."

She doesn't want to say anything.

After what he had asked her before on that day long ago... Even if she didn't entirely remember it, she has a feeling now that it must have been important. And he's right. She hadn't listened. Oh, sure, she figured it had been significant somehow... to him. But in the same way that every kid thought that car crashes, cancer, O.D.ing, or pregnancy were things that happened to OTHER people and not to them... she'd blown it off, the same way she and so many other classmates blew off health classes and PSAs and scolding lectures from parents.

Except now somehow something HAD happened and even worse, she has a feeling it had happened BEFORE he'd even said anything, and she doesn't want to say anything, even though she probably should and aw fuck this was just so screwed-up.

"It's not... huge or anything--"

Except that it might be.

It had said her name.

"Just... I might've, uh..."

It had called her a murderer.

"Seen... something, which might've... been, uh. Related."

And there's that sinking feeling he'd just been waiting for, and he decides to just ... ask. And he wants her to say no.

"Did you meet a one armed man or a man with long grey hair?"

Those were the ones he'd heard the words from. He knows both Laura and Leland had also talked about fire, but MIKE and BOB were the ones who seemed to have the connection to the verse.

And those were the only two who'd cited the entire thing. Through the darkness of futures past ...

A verse that applies to him much more than he knows.

She had just been going to mention the part where she had found FIRE WALK WITH ME scribbled on the diner floor in red, and see what he said to it. Gauge his reaction and then decide whether or not to bring up the rest. To bring up the voice, and the... thing it had probably belonged to.

But then he comes right out and says it.

The first part of that sentence is just fine.

She's never met anybody with one arm, much less recently.

And then the second part comes.

And she just turns to stare at him like he had just casually mentioned that a spider-monkey had once crawled out of his left nostril.

That alone is probably enough to tell him that, no, the answer to his question is not 'no'.

But just in case it isn't...

"... Who... who's the man with the grey hair?"

Shit.

He stares back at her for a second without saying anything. He's thought about it before but this is the first time it really, truly seems significant...

She really does resemble Teresa Banks.

"He's very dangerous", he says after that tense moment, and there's a new urgency in his eyes when he continues. "Did he do anything to you?"

He might be a little vague on the details but it's not because he doesn't want to answer her questions -- he just really needs to make sure she's safe first. Or as safe as she can be if BOB's revealed himself to her.

He doesn't know a lot about that ... what? Entity? Spirit? but there's a building feeling of dread that puts pressure on his throat when he thinks about him. (It. That.)

Especially when he thinks about BOB and Heather.

When he thinks about BOB in Johto.

She has NEVER heard or seen him this urgent before, and truth be told, right now that almost scares her more than the memories that caused the conversation to veer in this direction in the first place.

At the first thing he says, she actually lets out a small, high, semi-hysterical laugh.

"No shit!"

He had talked. He had talked IN HER HEAD. He had known things.

And, in that brief moment in which he had started across the room at her... she'd known. It was plain as day that he was dangerous. She'd somehow known without even really looking at him. He'd been... familiar somehow.

But at the question, she sort of shakes her head a little bit. Because... because he hadn't. Not technically. ... Unless you'd counted the first time... because that's been coming back to her. In disturbingly vivid flashes.

"Not... really..."

And then she shakes herself.

Because physical or not, he HAD done something. It counted! Telling her those things... threatening... that counted. It did.

Suddenly determined, she looks back at Cooper, brows furrowed.

"What. What IS he. Tell me now."

It's not a question. It's a demand. Because she's fucking scared now and when Heather Mason is scared of something, she wants to know how to kill it.

He hesitates for a moment. Not in deciding whether he should tell her or not, because if she's seen him, if he's done something to her, or if he's planning to, she deserves to know. If nothing else so she will know to stay away.

Because he doesn't know how to beat him.

No, he hesitates because he's not sure where to start. BOB is a bit of a mess in his mind ... he's scared of him. Like Heather, he's experienced BOB firsthand. BOB has told him things, known things he shouldn't possibly have, and taunted him about it. And laughed at him when he didn't understand.

And there's something else there, too, crawling in the back of his subconscious that he's so afraid to look at he hardly knows it's there.

He's fingering the gold ring on his left little finger. To calm down. And though still clearly tense, he speaks slower when he opens his mouth again.

"Do you remember when I talked about dreams?"

Edited 2011-12-19 23:29 (UTC)

Finally turning all the way around, she sits on the back of the booth, letting her sneakers rest on the seat. It's not really allowed, but nobody particularly cares in this place.

Still fiddling with the still-smoking cigarette in her fingers.

"Yeah?" she replies, somewhat breathlessly.

"I first saw him in a dream ... well, given the nature of it I should probably call it a vision. His name is BOB."

There's something about the name that lets you know it's in capital letters. Cooper looks up at the teenager with the kind of look people get about them when they talk about dark grim things they're passionate about - abuse, neglect, torture. This is important. And he wants to be sure she's following.

"He had a tattoo on his left arm: Fire, walk with me. In this dream, this vision, he promised me he would kill again. I believe he is responsible for the murder and sexual abuse of several children in and around the area he operates in."

But this -

this is the most important.

And he carries on, speaking a little faster, because he's talking about something he's known for all his life - and he has no idea how to fight it.

"It's clear to me that he's not from our dimension, our plane of existance. Call him a spirit, an entity. He kills without inhibition by forcing others to do it for him. He takes hosts into possession and carries out his will through them."

It's with a heavy heart he thinks back on Leland's last moments. The body in his lap and the inside rain ... but, he reminds himself, Leland died knowing who he was.

And Cooper is sure a lot of people don't.

Unlike the last time he brought up BOB, this time Cooper has her full attention.

She listens in absolute silence as he speaks.

It's the first time he's talked about something like this intimately. The first time he's talked about other worlds, of spirits and entities.

Of monsters.

And when he covers what BOB does...

I'm the best thing you'll ever have inside you.

When the explanation draws to a close, at first she doesn't say anything. She just sits there and looks at him with (ironically) owl-wide eyes.

Then, without even thinking about it, she brings the cigarette she'd been fidgeting with up to her lips and takes a big, deep DRAG.

... And instantly starts coughing because oh god it's been almost two years since the last time she lit up dfgkhlsd;fg;asf.g.

... you really shouldn't smoke, Heather.

He stands and motions for the cigarette with the full intention of snuffing it out against the tray on the table if she gives it to him.

She'd been planning on doing it herself (she'd done it out of pure habit and nothing more), but with watering eyes and a fist to her mouth, she hands the cigarette over willingly.

She hacks into her hand for a moment longer before finally being able to speak, in a croaky voice.

"Shit..."

He puts it out thoroughly and slides it to the edge of the table, but remains standing to be on eye contact with her, leaning on the table, hands flat against the top.

"You okay?"

It's a very serious question and it's definitely more about what he just told her than the cigarette. Now that she's got an idea of what BOB is he's anxious to know exactly what happened, what she saw, what BOB did.

Because he's worried. Very worried. He didn't want to go into that detail and he's sure she'll realize it soon herself, but an alarming number of people who's seen his true face have ended up dead.

Scrubbing at the side of her face a little with one hand, she nods.

"M'okay..."

She leans back and takes in a deep, shaky breath before straightening up again. All things considered, she's fairly calm. After all, going into hysterics doesn't help anything. Heather can't remember the last time she actually lost her head completely at anything. That gets trained out of you pretty quick when the Otherworld is involved. Or at least that's how it had been for her.

Lifting a hand, she cracks the knuckles. The sound always makes her feel a little better.

"All right. Yeah. I'm good. I'm okay."

Okay. She does look calm enough and he doesn't doubt that she's made of strong material but there's still a possibility that BOB could present a threat to her safety.

He remains standing.

"I need you to tell me what happened. What he said, did and under which circumstances. Anything you can remember."

Around that point, she slides down onto the seat. Probably not the best thing to do while wearing a dress, but it's baggy enough that it doesn't matter.

"Okay... well... I was in here. Working late. I think, because nobody else was around. It was real windy out. And I started..."

She trails off for a moment there, biting her lip. It's less of an unsure gesture and more one of distaste. As worrying as the whole deal is, mostly it just makes her feel kind of sick.

"... Hearing someone talking in my head."

That's news to Coop, previously unaware of BOB's ability to do that kind of thing. It's not ... surprising, not really, but it makes him tense even as he sits down to remain on level with her.

"What did the voice say?"

Still interrogative, absolutely. But this time he's the good cop. And somewhere this is crucial to him. If the first thing she gives him is new information, well .. if he can somehow remember it when he gets back, it could be of big help.

But that's for later. For notes and Diane.

He keeps his eyes on her, hands still on the table top.

Biting her lip in earnest now, she picks at the rubber siding on the edge of the table compulsively.

"... A lot. ... Stuff that no one should've known. And it kept saying my name. Heather Mason. ... Like it was makin' fun of me."

She doesn't bring up the part about it calling her a murderer. Cooper doesn't know that she's a killer, after all... and it's not something she feels like she needs to keep hidden, really, but she'd rather him not find out from this.

"... Said that I had fire in my hands. Which is..."

A scowl crosses her face.

"... accurate."

He could ask about that, but he's not going to. BOB knows things you don't want to talk about and he loves it, loves showing his words off like they're dead animals mounted on the walls.

Cooper knows what she's talking about. He can all too easily recall BOB-as-Leland shouting at him back in the interrogation room. It had been brief, among other people, and not inside his head the way Heather describes, but it had still affected Cooper to the point he had to physically step back from the man, the thing, and the waves of pure malice radiating off him.

He'd always been grateful to Harry for not asking what "that time in Pittsburgh" meant, and even more to Albert for not really bringing it up. Which is why he's going to do Heather the same favour.

He's already prodded at her past enough to last a rather long time, anyway.

"What else?"

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject