tibetanmethod | (no subject)

(no subject)

Heidi is working the night shift tonight, as she has been for the last several weeks. Norma Jennings is in Brazil, and that means that Shelly -- Norma's second in command at the Double R Diner -- needs to be around during the day.

She looks up as the bell on the door jingles; Cooper is holding it open for Moiraine. He gestures to a booth on the lefthand side, and they take a seat.

When Heidi makes her way over, Cooper and Moiraine find out that today is a special on cherry pie, since cherries are in season. Also, there is peanut butter.

Cooper leans forward and says to Moiraine, very confidentially, "I recommend the cherry."

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She shakes her head slightly, still smiling.

"It looks to be an interesting place."

"It's a very interesting place," Cooper says, calmly, and gets out of the car. "All kinds of things happen in here."

As they walk inside: "It's not like the Bookhouse."

"No," she says, as she accompanies him through the door and looks around the room. "It is not; nor is it Milliways, however."

Moiraine's demeanor is perfectly tranquil, in fact, and perhaps more than a little curious.

The room is large, and open, and there's a screen up on the stage, and lush red curtains behind the screen. Chairs have been placed in the room -- fifteen or so rows, half-taken up.

The credits of a short documentary are rolling; George Wolchezk, the principal of Twin Peaks High School, informs the crowd that there will be a seven-minute break between this documentary and the next one, which should last about twenty-three minutes, and then there'll be an eleven-minute break, and then the main event.

"I guess we get to see one after all," Cooper says.

"So it would appear," she agrees -- but there is a spark of interest in the dark eyes. "I must admit, I think, that I am curious as to what such a film will entail."

She gestures towards a row near the back, one with several empty chairs.

"Should we be seated?"

They take two seats, but once he sits down and takes off his coat, Cooper is up again.

He returns with two boxes of popcorn. "It's traditional," he says, low, as he hands one to Moiraine.

She looks at the box of popcorn, then at him, and a faint smile curves her lips.

"Very well -- if it is traditional."

The lights dim, and a familiar -- a very familiar -- gravel-strewn rumble comes over the sound system.

"The first lumber documentary per se was a three minute film entitled, 'Our Amazing Forests...'"

The voice is that of Sheriff Harry S. Truman.

Huh, Cooper would say, except he doesn't talk during movies.

The credits at the beginning confirm it: Harry is the narrator, but the director is Bobby Briggs, and the documentary about lumber documentaries -- a meta-documentary? -- is produced under the auspices of the Twin Peaks High School A/V Department.

"From these humble beginnings, the genre grew by leaps and bounds. By 1977, local historians agree, we had entered the 'Golden Age' of lumber documentaries with Alexandria Martell's 'From Acorn to Credenza: How Your Hometown Furnishes America (And Fights Communism)'..."

Twenty years and more of training in such matters allows her to keep a perfectly straight face, and even to look politely attentive.

Moiraine might even be taking mental notes. Light help Harry Truman.

...training in which matters? Lumber matters?

Still. Cooper, by all accounts, seems to find it fascinating.

When the lights come back up, and the applause (the enthusiastic applause) dies down, Cooper remarks, "I didn't know Harry'd done that. It must have been pretty recently."

"It would seem that he has hidden talents," she murmurs. "Harry Truman is a complex man."

"Yes," says Cooper, and it's said absently. Noticeably absently.

He's thinking about Josie Packard.

She slants a sideways glance at him, but does not ask. Not here.

The lights go down again, and the credits roll: The Philadelphia Story. Cary Grant, and Katherine Hepburn -- two of Cooper's favorites. When the lights come up, Cooper's eyes aren't on the screen.

They're on the woman by the door, who's looking straight at him.

The Log Lady. Without her log.

She crooks a finger at him, and then slips out the door into the night.

"Moiraine," Cooper says, quietly, "I think we may have a social call to make."

She has done her best to remain aware of the room during the film, but had found herself caught up in the story.

"I can think of several in Cairhien who would be suitable for such a tale," she mutters as the credits roll, then glances at Cooper as he speaks.

Dark eyes narrow slightly as she follows his glance.

"Very well."

The cabin of the Log Lady is out in the woods. Cooper has studied the maps of the area, and even though the first time he went out there he went on foot, he knows where the roads are to get out there.

In the car: "Moiraine, Josie Packard isn't dead."

Everything about her sharpens in an instant, to an intent, knife-edged focus.

"Death cannot be Healed."

Her tone is flat, and uncompromising-- even as there is a moment's thoughtful pause.

"A certain extreme situation notwithstanding."

"There's no reason to think this was extreme. But she's not the only one." Cooper is looking straight ahead at the road as he speaks, flatly. Relating information. This is FBI Voice. "You already know that I'm no longer Bound. When I was in the process of raking the rock garden in Milliways, the sand turned into quicksand. At the bottom of it was Glastonberry Grove, also known as the entrance in our world to the Black Lodge. It's only a few miles away from where we're going. I'm not certain how, but Harry pulled me through. When he did so, Josie Packard also came through. Alive."

"And so did Leland Palmer and Leo Johnson."

"Oh, Light."

It is very nearly a whispered prayer, and the Aes Sedai has gone suddenly, startlingly pale.

"The dead walk this world? Released through that place?"

"The once dead." Still in FBI Voice. "I had a run-in with Leland Palmer the other night. He seemed no different than he did immediately after Laura's death, and at the time of his own death. The psychiatrist treating his wife didn't have anything useful to tell me. Leland tried to tell me something, but was never able to get it out."

"Moiraine, the immediate cause of his death was by head trauma, inflicted by Bob. He rammed Leland's head against the wall of the interrogation room."

"The wound left by that incident is healing."

Silence, for several long seconds.

If Dale Cooper turns his head at all, he will see that Moiraine is studying him, now -- not the surroundings, not anything outside the windows of the vehicle.

She is studying him, and that with extreme care.

He doesn't turn his head.

"The reason Harry didn't come tonight," Cooper says, never taking his eyes from the road, "is because he's with Josie."

"One of the descriptions of the Black Lodge details the dead rising from their graves at the behest of the dugpas -- extremely powerful necromancers. I don't know your opinion of necromancy, but I think there's very probably a reason that in the mythology underlying most cultures, necromancy leads to divine punishment of some kind."

"In my world, even at this moment," Moiraine says finally, and it may be worth noting that the serene, calm tone is strangely flat, "the dead walk at the behest of the Lord of the Grave."

A beat.

"Who is the Dark One, the Father of Lies... he has many names."

"Necromancy," Cooper says, abstracted, "is curious. You'd think it wouldn't have the stigma it does -- who wouldn't want to bring the dead back to life, if it meant seeing friends and family? But the connotations of fear, of simple wrongness -- humanity seems to have some common sense after all. It's heartening, in a dark sort of way."

"So it might seem."

She is still turned at an angle where she can watch him, and the intensity of her regard is almost disconcerting.

"But these dead, as you have said, live again-- and evidently interact with the world around them, rather than being distorted reflections of that which once was."

A pause.

"Am I correct?"

Each word is carefully precise.