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

He looks at her with a similar expression, fright and worry fighting for dominance in his face and winding up in a mix of both.

But he gets back on track quickly, leans forward even more. If it weren't for the table he might have touched her shoulder to encourage her to continue, but now there's just words.

Words that are a little rushed.

"And then?"

"And then I... pushed him away, and he... just stood there. ... And howled."

She has to admit, even after all the things she's been through, all the dark places she's explored the hearts of, all the bone-chilling, blood-curdling noises that haunt her sleep even now ... that had been one of the most terrifying sounds she's ever heard coming out of a human mouth.

"Then he... he backed up, and I backed up, and ... I ran. Just..."

She makes a sort of swooping motion with her hand.

"Up the stairs. Didn't look back. ... And that's it."

He feels with her. He's heard a howl from BOB as well, and even if it was out of Leland's mouth, it had rattled him pretty bad.

"And he was gone when you returned?"

That's a follow up question - he assumes he's right and is already mulling the facts over.

She's not hurt. That's a relief. But the fact that BOB seemed willing to get physical with her on both accounts was worrying.

The fact that he'd left her the Fire-verse both times even moreso.

And Cooper looks at her and he can see Teresa Banks and perhaps a bit of Laura and thinks that he really don't want to see her wrapped in clear plastic.

He has no doubt that she's strong and can take pretty good care of herself but she doesn't know what she's up against here.

Then again, he doesn't really know either.

She really doesn't know.

Nodding, she leans back against the back of the seat. What a night. What a conversation. As much as she'd worried, she hadn't suspected it would be this BIG...

"Yeah. Gone. ... I think I even got in TROUBLE. My bitch manager thought I was trying to get out of working."

He actually shoots her a quick smile at that but it's weak, doesn't fully reach his eyes and dies fast.

It takes him another moment before he says anything.

"If you ever see him again I want you to tell me right away."

It might be an obvious thing, but he needs to make it clear. Even if he doesn't know a lot he knows more than her. And BOB is his case. His, what, his enemy? He's from Cooper's world, so Cooper feels responsible.

Besides, he always did want to get a chance to understand and (if it would ever be possible) defeat evil, didn't he? And although he has very little evidence he's rather certain BOB is the evil that he's been looking for.

Again, she nods.

All initial reluctance aside... now that she's told him, and now that she knows... yeah. She'll probably tell him if she so much as finds a clump of grizzled gray hair stuck to her shoe. ... Okay, maybe not THAT, because Heather knows the difference between legitimate concerns and total paranoia, but there you go.

Her voice is uncharacteristically small.

"Yeah. I will."

And that's where he falls quiet. She seems to get it, or at least what he presented to her, and that's good enough. And she'd seen for herself. She knows it's serious.

He leans back with a soft exhale and lets his gaze rest on the table top, letting the chaos in his mind roar for a while longer until he'll start quiet it down.

BOB in Johto ... he'd never thought he'd follow him here.

Even if only for three days, it's worrying. But that again poses the question of what exactly goes on during those three days and what they are, not to mention what causes them.

After all, they're almost like clockwork.

... Hopefully BOB won't show up next time.

At least if he does ... next time she'll be prepared. Next time she'll know. That alone gives her a certain amount of comfort. Not, you know, a ton, but she'll work with what she's got.

She's quiet as well, for a time.

After everything... this?

She'd faced evil, sometimes with nothing but her bare hands, and for seven years, even less than that. She'd died dozens of deaths. She'd fought monsters and killed them. She had destroyed God and defied her own destiny. She'd saved the world, and herself.

She had done the impossible.

And after all THAT... some spook from ANOTHER world decides it wants a piece of her?

It's not fair.

"... Hey, Coop?"

Almost on an impulse, she reaches across the table to try and lay a hand on his arm.

"It's gonna be okay."

He swallows against the words, looks to her hand first - face a small moment after.

He has absolutely no idea what prompted her to say that. But it's only when she says it that he realizes he hasn't heard those few simple words nearly enough.

He can barely remember. He knows his dad told him a few times ... and his mother, back during those frightening nights of his childhood when he thought he might die.

No one had told him things would be okay when his life started falling apart because others couldn't go on living. And when he'd miraculously survived that thing in Pittsburgh, it hadn't been "it's going to be okay", it had been "you're lucky to be alive". It had been "we're glad you're back", "feel better", "good luck" and "take care".

Never any reassurance for the future. It didn't bother him because he didn't notice, didn't think to care - it wasn't anyone's place to tell, because no one knows what the future holds.

And Heather is no exception. Which is why he's surprised to find that the words mean something to him.

All things considered, it's a nice thing to hear, true or not.

He gives her a mild smile that probably comes across as just a touchy shaky and reaches out to return the gesture: her hand on his lower arm, his on hers. And he runs his free hand over his mouth in a distracted motion that serves no real purpose.

"Thanks."

It's a little quieter and tighter than usual but he's fine, really.

It's true. Nobody knows.

Not even Heather-- who had once been able to See things that precious few other people could.

But the thing about people is that no matter how ordained or chaotic the future secretly was, it was still the future. If it's not okay at the end? Then it must not be the end.

There's always more future to go around if you just keep on fighting.

Because hell, if there wasn't? Heather sure wouldn't have made it this far.

She smiles back. It's not quite as fierce as her usual smiles... but there's something firm behind it. Not confident, exactly... but a kind of solemn sureness. It's not something frequently found in the smile of your average nineteen-year-old girl, no matter how streetsmart.

She lets her hand stay there a moment or so, then gives his arm a slight squeeze before she lets go and stands up, wiping both hands off on her rumpled apron.

"I'm gonna ask for the rest of the night off. Pretty sure I'm not gonna be particularly productive for at least a few hours."

"Sounds like a good idea. I doubt this place will get any busier than this."

And with that, he steps back into who he normally is as well as he can. Someone more controlled, someone less troubled, someone with a little more energy.

The fact that it's not who he really is is okay with him as long as he gets to pretend. And he does it well, even if the quiet, subdued air clings to him when he stands up too, picks up his wallet and leaves a few coins on the table.

He tips generously.

"Heading back to the Inn?"

Yeah, there's definitely still traces of both worry, fear and sadness in his face but his voice has a slight bounce to it now that hadn't been there since he asked for that bear claw.

"Yeah. We're closing in like an hour and a half anyway and there's more staff than customers. Don't think they'll need me around."

She takes both the mugs in one hand, hooking her fingers around the handles and lifting them idly with a clink.

They're both fakers, really. Perhaps him moreso than her. But anyone who's lived through the kinds of things they had just discussed needs to do a certain amount of bluffing to make it through the day. ... Or at least through conversations like these. Heather's own fear is still evident as well, but there's also a kind of calm.

She throws him a crooked grin more reminiscent of her usual.

"If you don't mind waiting around a few minutes, I'll walk back with ya."

She assumes that's where he's headed, anyway. Not like there's many places to go on a cold snowy night like this. At least not in quiet little Ecruteak.

There's a lot more he could have told her about BOB, actually - and would have, had he been back home, actively working the case, trying to figure it out. But it's been over a year and frankly, it was totally unexpected.

And like he can see her fear, she can probably see his. Along with some worry and concern.

But he smiles back easily enough and shrugs his coat back on.

"Sure thing."

He'll wait by the counter, absently folding a napkin: experimentally, in as many ways as he can, creating patterns with the folds.

Because he likes patterns. They repeat themselves and are for that very reason predictable and offer a certain kind of comfort.

And sometimes they have the added bonus of being nice to look at.

Yeah, she can see it.

And it's the first time he's ever really looked... vulnerable, that she's ever seen. Even that night in September when both spilled their guts a little and then poked around in the mess with their ice cream spoons, he'd never looked afraid. Sad, maybe. But not afraid.

But the best kind of comfort she knows how to give is her own brand, making that lopsided grin even broader, she walks backwards in a bit of a swagger, spreading her arms casually and injecting a hint of a movie-mobster accent into her voice.

"I mean, hey, I figure ... guy like you, walkin' alone at night... s'dangerous, y'know what I mean? I'll make sure y'get there safe, see?"

... The impression would be a little more fitting in her normal outfit than the charming little waitress uniform, but c'mon, work with her.

She disappears into the back with the mugs and plate, and eventually re-emerges ten or so minutes later, pulling on a rather slick-looking black leather coat, which is quite the upgrade in badassery from what she was wearing before. ... Then she promptly destroys that by tugging one of those goofy woolen winter hats with the flaps out of her pocket and yanking that on, too.

"All right. Ready to freeze alive?"

He shoots her a rather amused smile at that little show, complete with the raised eyebrow that's universally understood as 'seriously?' but in Cooper's case probably means something along the lines of 'okay then'.

When she gets back he folds the napkin up, leaves it on the counter and loops a scarf around his neck. All red and christmassy.

"As ready as can be."

With that he actually does a rather good impression of a man resigning himself to his fate of being frozen alive.

But he opens the door, holds it up for her, and most importantly braves the RUSH OF COLD WIND like a man.

It's a good thing the Inn really isn't that far. It's not so much that it's cold out, it's just that the wind is utterly relentless.

DO YOU DOUBT HER CAPABILITIES AS A BODYGUARD, COOP? DO YOU?

She beams and steps out-- only to double over instantly against the bitter wind.

"Holy crap-- it was NOT this windy when I came to work this morning..."

Go figure she'd left her scarf back in the hotel room.

OH ONLY A LITTLE.

He doesn't really answer her, but squares his shoulders, glances back her way with a sort of well what do you do-expression and then heads on.

Thankfully it really isn't a long ways away, and even if he notices her hurrying past the Burned Tower when they pass it, there's no incidents that force them to be out longer than necessary.

Which, in the end, is a good thing, because damn that weather was just ... unfriendly.

So he opens the door to the Inn with clear relief, holds it open for her and then steps inside, brushing snow off his coat and yeah, shivering a little.

Ugh.

"What a way to remind you you're alive."

It's more to himself than her, but hell, it applies.

PFFFF IF A MONSTER HAD ATTACKED YOU GUYS ON THE WAY HOME SHE'D TOTALLY HAVE BEEN ABLE TO HANDLE IT.

She follows him in, cheeks a raw shade of red.

"You can say that again... I feel like someone just ran a cheese-grater over my face..."

Once the door swings shut, she steps away from it, pulls her hat off, and SHAKES like a dog, dislodging the hefty white dusting that had settled on her shoulders, head, and in the collar of her coat on the way back. Because just pulling your coat off and asking for a towel like a normal person is for weenies.

He stares at her for a second because is Cujo rubbing off on her or something, then takes off his scarf, finds a dry end and rubs it over his face real quick. Again, the snowfall wasn't even that terrible, but the wind certainly made sure it would STICK.

(So that apparently makes him the normal person/weenie in this scenario.)

"Sounds like you're familiar with that kind of thing", he throws at her because that was wonderfully specific, but as far as his normal teasing go?

It's not quite the same as how he normally goes about it. He's still worried, frightened, preoccupied - distracted, and that's what it sounds like.

NOPE. She did stuff like this long before Cujo entered the picture. Because she is a sophisticated and polite young human being.

She straightens up, running her fingers through her wet hair and slicking it back slightly. A hot shower's in order after this. Both to cure the cold and... get rid of the feeling of filth that had started to creep in once Cooper told her the truth about her frightening visitor.

Looking back over at him, she offers a sort of smile. But like his voice, it's not as full as it could be.

"Eh, you could say that. Mostly I was just bein' descriptive."

He nods. It's a good description, all things considered.

But more importantly, he also sighs, and looks at her seriously once more. It's just one more thing he needs to make clear. He'd said it sooner, but fear (and guilt, because he can't not go there) is a pretty good distraction.

"Heather..." and it's pretty clear that he's kind of steeling himself, for some reason, "I need you to be careful."

A small pause and then, lower but slightly more urgent, "I have no idea what he can do."

In all honesty, it wouldn't surprise him if he could get to Johto even without the three day windows. He can already come and go in dreams.

The girl's smile doesn't disappear entirely-- it is, after all, a sort of shield to her-- but it does fade at the words. She pauses in stomping her boots on the floor to get the last of the slush out of them and looks up at Cooper with the barest hint of a grimace.

In many other scenarios, she might have met his request with a grin, rolled eyes, and a 'GEEZ, WORRYWART', or maybe even an indignant retort that she's 'not stupid and I can take care of myself!' But not tonight.

Instead, she just gives a small nod.

"... I'll be careful..."

Taking her hat in both hands to shake it out a little, she stares down into the bowl of it like she expects some kind of answer to magically appear out of it. Then looks back up at Cooper and speaks with a slightly more vigorous-- but not attitude-filled like normal-- tone.

"But it only happened twice. You know... on those weird weekends. Nothing can happen till then, right? I've got time."

It wasn't an argument or an excuse so much as a sort of hopeful inquiry.

She wanted time.

Time to come up with some kind of plan.

Time to get ready.

"I hope so. But I can't rule out the possibility that it might."

And that's what really bothers him. BOB is a force to be reckoned with and, well, it looks like anyone could come here. Absolutely anyone. Even if all logic dictates that BOB would be human and therefore significantly less dangerous ... it's still not a thought Cooper likes. At all.

Because he really is terrified of that being in a deep way he'd almost consider bordering on the irrational.

Then again, he doesn't know the whole story yet.

He gently holds Heather's shoulders, both as a small comfort or encouragement (because he's always admired her spirit and determination) and to get across how grave it all is when he looks her in the eyes.

She can imagine, but she doesn't know.

"Just keep an eye out."

It's the most 'intimate' physical contact he's ever initiated with her, and the weight isn't lost on her. It's hard to find it comforting, given the seriousness of the situation... but she appreciates it all the same. Where she might have jerked away and snarled a 'Don't touch me!' four or five months ago, she only looks up at him.

There's no grin on her face. Although she's been generous with those quiet, determined smiles of reassurance, right now she just looks perfectly serious, albeit fairly calm, given the circumstances.

"I will..." is what she first murmurs, gaze sliding off of Cooper's face and off to the side, thoughtfully.

But then it snaps back to him after a second or two, and although there are still traces of fright lingering on her face, there's a certain grim, hardness in her eyes. Part of it is resigned, somehow-- but an equal part of it is something else. Something steadfast and sure.

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened. ... I'll be fine."

Although it could easily be mistaken, there's something about the way she says 'something like this' that indicates that she does not mean other encounters with BOB. Not specifically, anyway. She's already told him about the times she's seen his face.

Cooper doesn't make that mistake, but he also doesn't put a lot of weight to it. He probably will come morning when he will undoubtedly go over it all in his head, but for now, it doesn't mean more to him than what he already knows: that Heather's been through a lot.

Right now, he attributes it to the evil salt and pepper shakers, the cult in general. Alessa was abused by their hands and today's coffee demonstration made sure he wouldn't forget. Death by someone else's hands, right? Death by evil forces that are using others to get to you?

It's pretty similar. And it's not at all what she means, but he doesn't know that. Not right now.

But studying her face, he nods slowly. He doesn't want to argue with the look she's giving him. He's worried, and he's going to stay worried for ... a while, but if he didn't already know it today made pretty clear that she's a fighter.

And while he doesn't feel too optimistic about her fate if BOB keeps showing himself to her, he does trust that she'd put up one hell of a fight.

There's even a hint of a smile in the tug of his mouth when he lets her go.

(Man, they've sure done a lot of bonding in this little town.)

"Alright."

Because what else can he say, really.

five days after black and red collide

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

Aaaaand that's a wrap? :U