route_1065 | The songs fade and singers die, but my heart will not stop thumping.

Entry tags:

The songs fade and singers die, but my heart will not stop thumping.

Who: Carmen Sandiego, Dale Cooper, and Heather Mason
Where: Olivine City (Inn and Diner)
When: Backdated to the 12th, around three or four in the afternoon.
Summary: After paying an Emergency Friendship Infusion visit to Otacon, Heather realizes she has the opportunity to chat with a certain FBI agent for the first time after her now-standard disturbing 4th-wall brush with the shadows of his past. But as it turns out, there's a lot more to discuss than just that...
Rating: PG, possible R if discussion goes into horror-y territory.
Log:

Most of the time, Heather thought there was something cheerful and uplifting about being near the ocean. Seaside towns were busy and bustling, constantly alive with the sound of crashing waves and crying seagulls (or Wingulls, in this case), and most importantly: the total opposite of the tiny rural forest towns that she so hated.

But for some reason today, as she stood by the pier and waited on Kaito, who had come to town with her for the day to win back his Mineralbadge, she couldn't seem to find the same breezy happiness she usually could in the smell of the saltwater.

Maybe it was just the frustration of the day in general, but the waves sounded lonely and the cries of the little white-and-blue birds that pinwheeled high overhead seemed to have a mournful quality to them. Heather suppressed a chilly shudder as a particularly vigorous wave slammed against the docks, sending a sparkling burst of seaspray through the clear air.

No... it was more than just being frustrated. Hell, maybe her frustration was COMING from it.

It was a weird creeping gloom that had been hanging over her ever since that odd weekend-- the fourth that she'd experienced here, and by far one of the most disturbing yet. It fled when she was with her father, with Henry and the other people from home, or with Kaito and Crow... fled enough that she practically forgot about it. But it always came back later. Dangling unresolved.

Ever since the extremely brief phone conversation she'd had on the matter with the person who it concerned, she hadn't touched it. Yeah. DEFINITELY a factor in her frustration.

... But wait.

He was in town, wasn't he?

Maybe...

She looked up the cobblestone paths at the Gym up at the top of the hill where the pines started. No sign of Kaito back yet...

After a moment's thought, she'd made up her mind. Pulling out her 'Gear, she fired off a text to him telling him not to wait up for her-- that she had some stuff to take care of and that it might take awhile.

And then she hiked her bag up over her shoulder and headed back for the inn, with a different room destination in mind this time.

It was about time she and Cooper talked.

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For once, Cooper's in his room. He isn't usually, these days - finds that taking his pokémon to the beach is more calming, more soothing to the mind. He spent a lot of time skipping stones the last two weeks but now does so only on occasion. He spends a lot of time on walks, just because if you can occupy your body you can occupy your mind, and the reason he does this is because like Heather, he's fighting a restless unease.

He's doing a lot better now than he did the first week after that weekend, those three days he's learned to look out for. He's still not okay, and in all honesty it's been a long long time since Dale Cooper was okay, but he's not falling apart at the seams anymore. And lying back to read a book is a nice way to pass the time under any normal circumstance that works quite nicely as a distraction too, not to mention a semblance of normalcy. Especially with Emily curled up near his feet. (It's funny, really, how quickly pokémon became synonymous with normalty, but it's not something Coop minds.)

He's been doing a good job of not thinking too hard about Windom Earle. It goes against everything he usually does and stands for but he's been obsessing about the man for the better part of two weeks and it's only now he's been able to start to let it go, at least somewhat. Everything he knows about his ex partner tells him it's unlikely he's in Johto. He would have come forward somehow, with a challenge or a sign, but it's been quiet. And Windom's not one to pass up an opportunity to mess with heads or stir up drama.

So it's at the back of his mind right now. It'll never go away, will stay tucked in neatly with everything else that Coop can't let go of, but it's not so loud. It means he can focus on other things. Like the mystery he already figured out but keeps reading anyway.

Until the knock on his door prompts him to stop, of course. The "Just a moment" he calls in reply is polite, as per usual, as he marks the page, puts the book down and gets up, ushering an excited Tricia away from the door to make some room.

And while his mind had been quieter, it grew louder as he opened the door. He'd wanted to see Heather, this wasn't news to him. Had wanted to check on her for a long time but settled with that phone call for the time being. But seeing her unexpectedly makes him unprepared for the sudden sense of relief.

She's okay. She looks a bit tired and worn and tense herself, but she's okay, and while he thought she would be nothing really beats seeing it for yourself. His mind had been quieter lately, yeah - and now it roars to life only to die down a second later, leaving some crackling and patchy static that Coop happily overlooks.

"Heather- hi."

He touches her arm, gives her a quick smile and steps aside to let her in.

For just a second, Heather had been afraid that no one would be home and that she was just standing here and knocking like a total dope.

But his response comes almost instantly and she relaxes, waiting for him to open the door.

Once he does, she manages a small grin up at him. It had seemed like such a good idea to just show up on a lark, but of course now that she's here, it feels a little awkward, even as he welcomes her.

"Hey, Coop."

She steps into the hotel room, hitching up the strap of the bag again.

"Sorry I didn't call. I was just in the area and thought I'd stop by. ... So... ahah, surprise?"

"Heather, I'm always happy to see you."

And it's a nice thing to say that and know that it's true, especially given how they'd started out. He wouldn't have thought it of her at first but she's proven to be a good friend - the fact that he's now willing to give her that label is proof enough of the fact.

So he's particularly happy to see her alive. Again, not that he didn't expect her to have died, but there's no reassurance like seeing it.

As far as surprises go, she's a welcome one. He closes the door behind her and tells Tricia to "stay", because she looked about ready to jump the teen, while Emily stretches and sits up to look Heather over. There's not a lot of visitors here, really. Except Carmen, and this isn't her - so the team's getting curious. ... except Tricia who already knows Heather somewhat, and Aidan who if nothing else met her owl way back then. The fox in question is looking at her from a window sill.

Hope you like all the eyes on you there.

The meek smile turns a little more genuine at that, and she goes ahead and takes off her bag, dropping it gently on the floor next to the doorway. She'd only brought the small one out from Cianwood with her-- one-night trip and all. There's nothing much in it, so the Pokemon all around are free to sniff it to their heart's content.

Speaking of the Pokemon, it's occurring to her suddenly that she never really met many of his officially, despite being in the same town as him for several months. It's one thing to generally spot them hanging out, another to actually be in their presence.

"It's okay, Coop," she says when he takes his precautionary measures against Tricia Being Rude. "I've got Cujo, he's a thousand times worse than pretty much anything other Pokemon can throw at me."

Which is a white lie-- she's had two years to get used to Cujo, and as Cooper had undoubtedly noticed the OTHER times Heather had been around Tricia, the girl was still distinctly uneasy around dogs. But with Vincent's Houndoom now in her care... well, it's about time she start desensitizing herself to other Pokemon, too.

That's a good idea and something Coop's been slowly working on himself when it comes to birds. But because they both have Animal Things he also knows how tricky it can be to actually get over the initial response, especially with strange pokémon-or-animals. He allows her her cover, though, and his response is one of dry humour.

"I know. I've met him."

On a few occasions, too. He's grown to be quite a beast of a Growlithe. But it doesn't stop Coop from keeping Tricia mostly by his side. Part of it is actually just to keep her manners in check.

Aidan, meanwhile, is definitely taking up on that offer about sniffing around. If not watched he'll probably sneak away with that bag to some corner in due time and manage to get it open and thoroughly investigate every single thing in it, but for now, he's just getting a rough idea on the bag, its contents and who's handled it.

That gets a grin and a laugh, as she bends down to deliver a few pats to the Pokemon who have come around-- even Tricia.

The bag's contents aren't very exciting-- a toothbrush, paste, a couple of power-bars, the 'Gear...

On the other hand, it DOES contain a plethora of very interesting smells, the first and foremost likely being OWL. Even if it was too small for Claudy to fit into anymore, the Noctowl had spent most of her early months burrowed into it.

Heather straightens up after a moment, though, absentmindedly planting a hand on one hip and scuffing the heel of her boot on the floor.

"So, uh... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Beeeecause this is more than just a courtesy visit...

Aidan wrinkles his nose a little because he remembers that owl and he remembers that owl being kind of mean to him. It's not that he holds grudges, more that it just brought back memories.

"No."

The reply comes quick because it's true, but it's not very easy or light. Coop's got a pretty good idea of what's on Heather's mind, because it was starting to turn into a pattern. A special weekend followed by an unpleasant chat that dug up a lot of pasts. She'd told him, too - she'd rather talk in person than over the phone. And he'd agreed, because he really hadn't felt up to much of anything at the time other than quickly making sure she was more or less okay.

Besides, he has to ask her something himself.

He walks over to the desk and turns the chair around, gesturing for her to sit anywhere she likes. There's not a lot in there because Coop doesn't need too much to be happy, but the room is fairly large despite the sparse furnishing. There's the bed, desk, a small couch (with a Poochyena in it) and a coffee table facing a TV on the other end of the room, but the desk is in the middle of it and thus Coop will see her wherever she chooses to plop down.

He doesn't sit yet though, leans instead against the chair with his arms against the back of it.

"We have a few things to talk about."

In a way, it's a relief to hear that.

Knowing that it's obviously been on his mind too, and that she didn't spring a big load of unpleasantness on him by coming here with no warning.

She nods, then turns to take a seat herself-- at first she turns towards the couch, but spots the Poochyena and thinks better of it. Eventually she settles on the end of the bed, clasped hands set down on her knees.

"Yeah... I, uh..."

There's a pause. Unlike in December, when the conversation had sort of just... happened, the way they both know what they're in for now makes it hard to know exactly how to start it off.

"... So. That weekend."

He remains standing for the moment, bows his head slightly in something that could be a nod. It's a conversation that needs to happen, but that doesn't make it much easier.

Thinking back on the last time they talked about this has him reminded once more that BOB could very well be in the picture this time as well. He'd been more occupied with thoughts of Windom until now but the realization hits him with a clarity he thinks he really should have had earlier that Heather could have faced not just that threat, but BOB's as well. It concerns him.

"That weekend", he echoes, but not to stall. In fact, he cuts to the chase. "Did you see BOB?"

Right to the heart of the matter. That's good. So much easier than beating around the bush, even if hearing the name gives her a sick, unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Yeah."

She paused to actually let out a low, hollow laugh, rolling her eyes. It's the first time she's even addressed it since it actually happened and every particle of her being wants-- NEEDS a sarcastic remark to blow it off and lessen the urgency of it somehow.

"As usual."

Heather. Heather that's not reassuring at all. That's only going to make YOU feel better.

... yeah, no, that doesn't help Cooper's concern at all. He sits down, leans forward, all angles towards Heather - he's giving her his full undivided attention, troubled as it is. There's the constant thought that BOB might not be all of it either, but he pushes it to the side for now, trying to focus on one topic at a time.

"What happened?"

He's worried for what might have. It's probably clear in his voice.

She runs her tongue along her lips briefly, remembering with eerie deja vu the coppery pain that had burned there when he had left his bloody little signatures on them.

When she'd awoken the next day, there had been cuts there, although she had a feeling that she had gnawed them open herself because there hadn't been any OTHER marks. Just the lingering ghosts of the bruises and nicks his rough and malicious affections had left.

"Well, he... we... talked. ... After I threw a rock at him."

Because it has, of course, become customary to mention the part where she pluckily tried to punch an evil spirit in the face. Except this time she doesn't feel plucky.

She feels stupid for having even tried.

Well, there's ... something there. Coop catches it because he was looking for it, scared that it might be. She's not as defiant as when they last talked about the spirit -- she had reassured him that time. Whatever happened this time made it a little different from the other meetings.

And that's absolutely worrying.

"What did you talk about?"

No. No she's not.

Before, she'd been shaken but ultimately still determined that everything was going to be okay. It HAD to be okay. After Silent Hill, what did she have to fear? Bad people and things could be scary but she always had the comfort of telling herself that it was cake compared to what she'd already been through, conquered, and stood on top of with bloody boots and a cry of 'Anything ELSE you wanna throw at me?!'

Once she'd known what the malignant creature occasionally haunting her so-called 'dreams' twice a year was, she'd been terrified but somehow so sure that that knowledge was going to somehow turn things around.

Know thy enemy, right?

Wrong.

She rolls her shoulders glumly. Like every other memory from those weekends, it's vivid as hell but still somewhat blurry on a few of the details.

"Some cryptic bullshit, I don't fucking know... kept saying my name. My full name."

At first it was annoying, but then it had gotten creepier, just because of the way he said it. Brandishing it like a stolen flag. Look what ~I~ know about you!

"Said he was back to have fun."

Edited 2012-06-26 20:50 (UTC)

In many ways, Heather is actually becoming something of a resource on BOB. Because while Coop has found himself on the other end of his taunts he doesn't know the thing the same way he suspects Laura did and now the way Heather does. So what she's telling him is really bits and pieces that he doesn't know. Like the thing about her name. BOB only ever called him Cooper or Coop (which was a nickname he hadn't liked from BOB's mouth at all), so hearing that he apparently adresses his ... well, his victims - even if Cooper doesn't like to think of Heather as such - like that, it's new. New and just as alarming as everything else she tells him.

Saying he wanted to have fun sounds exactly like the BOB Coop knows. He wears a smile, wasn't it?

But what he learns here doesn't exactly help his fear for the girl in his room. Information is never a bad thing and he can probably work with a lot of what she gives him, hopefully ultimately to help her, but that doesn't mean he won't ask his questions with trepidation.

Because something is off, here.

Something is very off.

"Heather ... what did he do?"

At least that's one bright side to it, although Heather would be hard-pressed to find comfort in it now.

She's twined her fingers together in her lap and isn't quite looking Cooper in the eye, although it's not quite the sheepish trying-to-get-around-the-question look he's likely used to seeing from her. It's... melancholy.

There's something ashamed about it.

"... Called me rude again. ... I told him I knew what he did. He wanted to know who told me."

Procrastination. It's not the whole answer and she's not planning on withholding it, but...

He doesn't actually answer, this time, or keep asking. He could, but he can tell there's something she's not quite saying and thinks it'd be better if he doesn't press her for it.

Coop's better at interrogating and rationalising than he is comforting, and while there are words at the tip of his tongue he chooses to keep them for now and just listen.

Listen and wait.

She appreciates it.

This isn't something she NEEDS to be prodded towards. It's just sitting there like a big lump of toxic waste and getting rid of it means getting close enough to give it a shove. She knows she has to. It just ... takes a minute.

So when he remains silent, she pauses to take a deep breath.

"... We had a fight."

Which was new.

Very new.

Yeah.

Yeah, that's definitely new.

He knows they've been at odds before which isn't surprising at all, but an actual fight? That indicates involvement on BOB's side, as well. Not just Heather kicking him or throwing rocks at him.

".. A fight?"

"Yeah, he..."

Her voice is a little bit low, almost like she's worried there's people with their ears pressed to the wall, listening. She's not worried about that, but somehow the atmosphere of the last time they talked about this, in that little Ecruteak diner, seems to have carried over.

Quiet just seems like something that should be maintained.

"Grabbed me and kinda... kinda threw me away. And I was-- I, you know, I wasn't gonna be like... fuck you just threw me at the ground GUESS IT'S GAME OVER, so I kinda... he said 'Keep fighting', because the fire was 'waiting', and 'Remember what I told you', and I... I dunno, I got real pissed off, so..."

He closes his eyes briefly, lowers his head a bit as he listens. There's little he can do right now other than that - worse is knowing that in terms of events that already transpired he can do nothing.

And he knows BOB more intimately than he thinks he does ... knows that a lot of damage could have been caused.

Again, doesn't ask, just waits for her to tell him, looking at her with his hands locked beneath his chin.

A lot of damage HAD been caused.

Not physically, no, despite the rough nature of the encounter.

After all, the wounds he'd left had melted away like everything else that happened on those wacky weekends.

But SHE knew they'd been there.

She swallows, hard.

"... Kinda chewed on my face."

It's a way of phrasing it that makes it seem more plain-old violent than it really was, because the truth is that Heather is fine with the thought of taking a beating. Even a disturbing, animalistic beating. Hell, she's taken more brutal, mauling, primitive beatings than most can ever boast of.

What she's not fine with is what BOB was actually doing.

The way he held her tightly and kissed each little wound as soon as he made it.

And the way she's sitting with her hunched shoulders and downcast eyes probably says that a normal knock-down, drag-out fight is probably not what happened.

Coop can see it, the way he sees most things. Has always noticed the details and never been one to disregard them. And Heather is trying hard not to be vulnerable or weak in the aftermath of whatever had happened ... is trying too hard in a way that makes it even easier to pick up on.

Of course, he has no idea to know what actually went down, not until she tells him. But kind of chewed on my face has plenty of implications and given the nature of what BOB DOES ...

He finds he's covering his mouth with a hand. Catches it in his other.

"Did he hurt you?"

The last time he'd asked that, she'd said no. At least as far as she remembered. Because he hadn't. Aside from scaring the living daylights out of her, anyway.

But this time he had.

He had, and she hadn't been able to stop him.

So she nods.

There are a lot of things he could say in response. Are you okay, how are you feeling, what can I do - neither of which are relevant and as such doesn't cut it. She's not okay, at least not at the moment. She's feeling bad from it - hurt and scared. And Coop can't do anything about what happened, can't do anything about BOB, and can't do much in the present regarding those things either.

What he can do, in the end, is reach out to her. He knows when words fail and is more than willing to trade them for action when it comes to people he cares about. And Heather is one such person. Is, in fact, one of the people he feels most strongly about.

So he leans forwards and takes one of her hands, his grip gentle but firm. It's a simple gesture but it says more than he can right now, especially when there seems to be something caught in his throat.

There are just some situations where all the normal things that are supposed to be the right thing to say just don't work. This is one of them.

She doesn't shy away from him-- she's shaken but she wants the comfort, hell, CRAVES it since this isn't exactly something she's told anybody else about. Not even her father. It would break his damn heart to know that after Silent Hill, after all the hell they'd both been through, something ELSE had its sights on his daughter now. She can't do that to him.

And nobody else would even know what to DO with this kind of information.

Just Cooper, because BOB is from HIS world.

So she lets him take her hands willingly-- actually squeezes them a little harder than he'd set the precedent for.

"I fought him, Coop-- I gave him HELL but he just... he just let me. Like it didn't bother him at all. I tore holes in his face and he just kept going. I couldn't do a fucking thing."

Surprisingly, she hadn't really raised her voice-- normally, this'd be around the time when her volume control would start to slip as she got more and more emotional, but it stays around the same level, albeit with a bit of a croop to it.

"... I couldn't stop him."

She'd been so sure that she could do something.

The tragic part - the terrible part - is that in the end, Coop actually doesn't know what to do either. He'd been onto something, back in Twin Peaks, and he still remembers his theories about the Lodges ... now even more clearly, after Windom's visit. He hadn't had a plan for what to do with that theory, though, the bits and pieces of information that he had had.

Maybe that hadn't mattered, had he gotten to see all that through, because when it comes to things like this he always works on intuition and improvisation. And it tended to work, although only marginally more often than not. Still, he'd had a bad feeling about the Laura Palmer case from the start.

There'd always been something else about BOB that he couldn't quite place, but that was familiar and all too dark.

And Heather had been on the recieving end of that. Repeatedly and dangerously.

He squeezes back, reaches out with his other hand as well to show her that he's there. Even if he can't do much for her, he's there and he'll listen.

He casts his eyes down but when he looks up, he tries to keep eye contact.

"Heather ..." Soft, sad, and trying not to sound fearful. He could tell her that she's okay, that she's still there, but he knows that that might be a small comfort. He has a sinking feeling that BOB let her go, after all, and her defeated tone more or less confirms it. It makes him scared to ask, but he knows he needs to. "What did he do to you?"

She can tell that he's trying so hard to sound normal and calm. For her.

And it kills her that she can't play it tough like she had last time. Because while it had of course been for her own sake as well as his, to keep herself from sinking too far into fear and worry, it had still largely been for his benefit. So that he wouldn't worry about her.

Now she can't even bring herself to TRY, and that alone is a moment of weakness she already feels ashamed of.

"He... grabbed me and held me close... told me to play nice, and... and when I tried to fight back, he started... biting..."

Her stomach turns at the thought of describing the way he kissed her, so she leaves that out, with a grimace of revulsion.

"Normally, I can get people to let go. NORMAL people back the fuck off when I hurt them. Because I do. But he just... he just smiled. Like he liked it."

He could point out that BOB isn't a person. But he's not sure if that would help or not. He hesitates, but then speaks - slowly, softly, intent to let her know. She deserves everything he has on this entity. And maybe it could offer some comfort.

"My theory ... is that inflicting pain and fear into the hearts of others is what keeps him alive. He has perfected it, Heather. What he did to you was to get the response he wanted. There's no shame in being affected by it."

Because he could sense that shame ... of course he could. And he understands it, because BOB could evoke it in him as well, albeit probably for very different reasons.

It wouldn't, really.

After all... Heather is used to fighting not-a-persons.

Even not-a-persons are supposed to bleed and feel pain.

She nods, but even as she does so, she's letting go of Cooper's hand and clenching her fist. The nod becomes a shake of the head.

"I've seen worse. I've seen so much worse. Even if he's-- ... I don't care what he is. I've seen... I shouldn't feel this way. Fuck."

It wasn't that she'd seen 'worse' so much as... well, she'd gotten so NUMB in Silent Hill. Even aside from the monsters... that empty wasteland. The ghastly and horrific pictures and displays that had been left lying around like abstract art exhibitions... the blood clots that crawled up and down the walls... the bodies. It changed you to be immersed in that place.

That had worn off after awhile, of course... left her feeling human again. But that sort of horror sticks with you. Couldn't she have kept a little bit of that numbness?

"I didn't know what to do. Normally I... normally there's something."

When she lets go, he instead puts his hand on her arm.

Telling yourself not to feel things is a lot harder than telling yourself what to feel, but he doesn't say that. Instead he just quietly recognises the hopelessness she's expressing. He can understand that, too.

"Finding that something out is my job. If you can, try to take comfort in that fact. And know that if I find it, you'll be the first to know." It had been a Blue Rose case from the start. It's why he was called in - he knew his way around them. But he knows that BOB is a lot more than he's taken on before ... and he does feel like he's in a little over his head, here. Especially now, knowing what happened to Windom.

Which is admitted some in the slight shift in tone as he continues. "I'm sorry he found you. He's a part of my world that I would never let anyone get acquainted with, were the choice up to me. Friend or otherwise."

He's sorry she's gone through. From what she's told him about her old life that was more than too much to put on her shoulders, and Coop's deeply saddened by how she has to carry this additional weight.

Poor Cooper.

In a way, she's already regretting coming-- not because she hadn't wanted to talk to him, but because it's piling a load on his shoulders that he'd probably be better off without. He's blaming himself, and she can tell. Even if he's a reasonable person who has to realize that it's not his fault, he's at least doing it a LITTLE and a little is too much.

"You don't... you don't need to say you're sorry."

That feels a little too much like pity, on top of the fact that he felt like HE needed to say he's sorry...

"S'not like you ASKED for this to happen. And..."

Well, a few months ago she'd have suggested that maybe it WAS a coincidence, but no. This encounter more or less proved that BOB had taken a shine to her specifically. So she just swallows.

"... And..."

'I've dealt with things like this before!'

'No one can do anything to me that I haven't already lived through.'

'No matter what happens, I always come back in one piece. I'm like an old penny.'

All of those are things she's said before, or would normally say about something like this. And all of them are still perfectly true, more or less.

... But for some reason, the thought of saying them just twists her gut with shame. Like a liar. So she slouches in silence briefly, head in hand.

The thing is, he already did carry this. Has carried it since the last time it came up. Taking on the blame for what happened isn't new or unusual for a guy like Coop, who can easily spot himself as the common nominator in these cases. It seems rational to him, and that's why he does it. It's not even a particularly conscious thing anymore - it just makes sense to.

The fact that he, like she says, didn't ask for any of it to happen doesn't stop him from figuring that really, BOB is unlikely to have come here in the first place unless Coop had been there to begin with.

But moreover, this isn't about him right now. Not past the fact that it's his case. It's about Heather, and Heather's badly shaken by what BOB did to her.

"I'm aware that I don't need to say anything. But I am sorry that this is happening to you and I want you to know that." Still, it isn't like pity when he says it like that, makes sure to stress it - it's one abused soul to the other. There's a lot of understanding that hasn't even happened yet, but it's in him despite it. The things BOB will ultimately do to him aren't so different from what he did to her.

And then, well ... he doesn't know what else he can say to make things alright. Probably nothing. (Again, he never was that good at this.) But there's one thing he always did admire about her, and maybe now is a good time to remind her. "You're a fighter. Remember that."

She doesn't look up at him, although she does nod a little absently to show she's listening. She didn't come here to ignore him, after all. Even if his words, somehow, don't seem to be helping that much. That part's not his fault. Even in the middle of all her thoughts about how unfair and nonsensical this all is, she remembers what it was like after she got back from Silent Hill. Nothing Douglas said had done any good, either-- she'd gone through the first week or so after that in a sort of haze and not even the one person who really knew what she'd been through had been able to help directly.

Such is the case here and she knows it.

It just smarts, because he's trying so hard and she wants to put on a stiff upper lip like normal. Or even just put on that slightly-sheepish, genuinely-touched smile she'd normally have worn at being told so sincerely that she was a fighter.

But she can't even do that.

Because although she can't bring herself to mention it (what an awful way to throw the comment back in Cooper's face that would be), BOB had said the same thing. Said it in such a gleeful way. Like he liked that.

She can't think of anything to say (except for things she's absolutely NOT going to say) or do (except just sit there in silence and make this whole thing worse).

... So instead she surprises herself by turning abruptly and leaning forward off the edge of the bed to wrap her arms around the FBI agent, burying her head slightly in the process. It's an action that's far more vulnerable than she wants to be, but... well. What else can she do?

Edited ('fire' instead of 'fighter' FREUDIAN SLIP) 2012-07-02 05:52 (UTC)

It's fair to say that Coop didn't expect the hug but he finds very quickly that he's glad for it. It's probably something they both needed. A hug is such a simple act but one that can still convey more comfort than most words, and really, it's a shame people don't hug more often.

So he doesn't hesitate to put his arms around her as well, to lean forwards to meet her and rest his head by one of her shoulders. He's there for her in any way he can, and in a hug, that means being solid and patient. He'll stay there for as long as they both need it and it's not like he has any objections.

He's not saying anything because she's not. It means there's either no need or will to.

She hadn't really expected it either, to be honest. But out of all the things to happen so far, it's probably the closest that anything's come to making her feel better. Even if she feels a twinge of injured pride deep down (what happened to the Heather that didn't NEED hugs, and didn't break down like this in front of the people she normally tries to look strong for?), it helps a little to just mush her face against someone's chest like a little kid and hang on. Solidity and patience are definitely what she needs right now and even if she feels stupid doing it, she'll take what he's offering.

And she's not crying-- at least she's got THAT much going for her. No tears.

They'll likely remain like that for awhile, just sitting in the embrace.

But eventually, she'll speak again, not lifting her head from wherever it wound up buried during the hug.

"Coop, I'm scared as hell."

Her honesty is a bit shocking, because he doesn't know Heather to be the first to admit to that kind of thing. To admit to fear. But when he pulls back a bit to look at her (still keeping the embrace), he appreciates the honesty.

Because it is scary. It's terrifying, and she knows it just as well as he does - perhaps even more.

"So am I", he admits. It might not be something she wanted to hear, but ... well, he is. For her especially, but also for almost everyone he knows, and lastly, for himself. He hasn't dealt with this fear, precisely. Buddha said to let all fears go. It's easier said than done, but Coop is keeping it from his mind as well as he can, and it shows in his tone in this moment - quiet, but certain, despite what he's saying.

That's something he could say, too. To let it go, or to work past it. But the point isn't to tell her not to be scared, because she should be. It's rather to let her know that they're in this together.

It's something she actually admits to quite readily in the situations where it really matters... something she's come to accept as a reality.

She's not fearless. Hell, if she had been, Silent Hill would've been no big deal, right?

But no, she hasn't talked to him much about it... and truth be told, she's had little reason to talk to anybody in Johto about fear.

But here they are.

She doesn't respond at first-- because yeah, that ISN'T what she wanted to hear. She just draws her shoulders up against her neck and shuts her eyes, face still pressed into the agent's shirt.

"... I can't-- ... Dad can't find out about this," she finally mumbles. "I can't tell him. It'd break his heart. Knowing that some other-- ... something else is apparently jonesing for a piece of me."

He trails a hand up and down her back slowly in her pause, head bowed now to a place above hers.

His first response to what she's saying is that he doesn't like it. She should tell anyone she trusts to make sure they can help her out, if nothing else to help her cope. He's going to say it, too. But he realizes that BOB always did make opportunities when there was no one else to come to help.

And he supposes she's coping with his help, now.

Still, he can't help a small protest.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to keep this from him."

She sits up at last-- but doesn't try to duck out from under his hand. It's a comfort, however small, and she's here to accept whatever help and advice he can give, not try to dodge it.

"You don't understand-- he died to protect me. I mean, if it gets really bad, or if he's in danger... yeah, of course he's gotta know. I tell him almost everything. But... I just-- I can't do this to him. Not again. My whole life he tried to keep me safe from stuff that was after me. And now..."

Reaching up to scrub a hand across her eyes briefly (she's not crying, they're just... itchy somehow. Pre-crying that hopefully won't make it much further), she shakes her head a bit.

"It's fine. It's fine. We'll think of something. I've-- even if he's bad, I've won against worse. Or as bad. Fuck. I don't know. I'll figure something out. I've got awhile. Like six months, right? That's how long it usually takes for ... for one of these things to roll around again."

He just nods at first, watching her closely.

He's seen certainty in her before, but not quite so adamantly as here. Fiercely protective of her father, it seems ... and Coop supposes he understands that, at least to some extent.

"If you're sure", he says slowly, in the end, still not convinced but not having the heart to argue with her. He stops for a moment, then, seriously, moving his hand to her shoulder; "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Softly, and with understanding. 'Can', because some things are too painful to talk about when it comes to BOB, and he knows it. And not promising her that they'll find a way to stop this entity from haunting her, because that's not one he feels confident making - but there's also the promise there that he'll try.

Because there's no way he couldn't.

Fierce isn't the half of it.

She lost him once (and twice, if you count his ill-fated first appearance in Johto) and like hell is she going to add to the pile of worries he'd already had to carry for so long. In some ways, she's pretty sure he had to hold a heavier burden than she EVER did.

After all, she'd been happily, blissfully unaware of her origins and fate for seventeen long years.

He'd had to carry that knowledge all along.

Well, he was dead now. And he fucking deserved an afterlife without needing to worry about her anymore, if Johto could count as an afterlife.

But she swipes her arm across her face for a moment and just thinks.

The phrasing of is question isn't lost on her, and it's true. There are things she can't talk about. Doesn't want to tell Cooper about how filthy she felt after it all, how BOB's touches had been the sort of violent that she was deeply afraid of instead of the sort she could give back as good as she got.

But...

"... There was one thing," she said thickly after a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. "... When he told me to fight, and I lost my temper... I did something that got a different... he changed. For a second."

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The songs fade and singers die, but my heart will not stop thumping.

[HOTEL ROOM] Heather and Coop talk SPOOKY TWIN PEAKS STUFF

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[HOTEL ROOM --> RESTAURANT] Carmen, Coop and Heather go have some freakin dinner

[AFTERWARDS] Carmen and Heather have a girl-to-girl chat