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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

Cooper hesitates.

"In general." He eases the car off the paved road. "Not -- specifically. I haven't seen Josie since the day Harry pulled us into the grove. I wouldn't have known Leland was back if I hadn't seen him through his living room window while I was taking a walk. And Leo -- " Cooper shakes his head slightly. "They're interacting with the world, but they're not members of the community. Not like they were."

"I like this not at all, Dale."

The Aes Sedai's tone is neutrally calm.

"What effect would you say that it is having on Harry, if any?"

"He's spending as much time with her as he can."

FBI voice.

"He's happy."

"I see."

A pause.

"Is this something he would have tried deliberately to do? Something he could have learned through studying that which is to be found in the Bookhouse?"

Cooper shakes his head. "No." Definite. "I don't think -- "

(Tibetan mumbo-jumbo)

" -- he would have tried. And the Bookhouse doesn't have the resources. Not like that."

She gives him an odd look at the mention of the resources to be found there, but does not pursue it.

"If he would not have tried, then, perhaps."

He's leaning a little over the steering wheel, peering into the darkness. "Perhaps what?"

An oddly strained pause, and then she says simply,

"Perhaps he may not be the cause of these events."

Another pause.

Mildly: "I very much doubt that he is."

She inclines her head slightly.

"Do you have some idea as to what may be, then?"

Her tone is perfectly calm, nearly academic in terms of interest.

"No."

Simply.

It's why they're having this conversation to begin with.

"I don't."

Moiraine nods, once.

"Then, if you would have me do so, I shall look into it as best I can, Dale."

It is possible that she would do so without his agreement, but perhaps that may not be necessary.

He's nodding. "Yes. Please." A flash of a smile, not bright, not for long. "I'm ill-equipped to investigate this kind of thing."

"It is not the sort of thing that one would expect to have a need to know, I should think," she murmurs, and reaches out to touch his arm in a gesture of comfort, if briefly.

"I shall do what I may."

Coop, Morpheus told me once that the danger to Twin Peaks -- to our way of life -- came from decisions the people here would make. I've always thought the spirits in these woods protected Twin Peaks in some way. If people from outside -- drug dealers and pimps -- get Ghostwood free and clear --

Outsiders.

"Thank you," Cooper says, quietly, and wonders just how bad it's going to be when he tells Harry that he's gone over Harry's head, in the service of what's really Harry's town, because of Harry's dead girlfriend.

Who isn't dead.

Who shot Cooper and left him for dead.

Cooper's pretty sure that Harry can't afford to have him leave town, what with Sheriff Cable and the boys from Deer Meadow gunning for him and his. Pretty sure isn't good enough.

He's having to drive slowly down the dirt road, where weeds grow in between the two grooves made by wheels. Cooper reaches down and rolls down the window, and breathes in, deeply. "Smell that," he says, soft. "You don't get trees quite like these anywhere else."

He has said something of the sort to her before, and a faint smile touches her lips, there and gone in an instant.

"It is a truly distinctive scent," she agrees quietly.

A figure steps into the road.

Cooper puts on the brakes.

It's the Log Lady, up where the road widens, leading to a clearing with a small cabin.

A silhouette is visible through a window. Curtains flutter briefly. The person inside isn't visible.

The Log Lady stands there, looking at them.

"Moiraine," Cooper says, and he doesn't raise his voice, "do you know what's wrong with this picture?"

"We have met before, as it happens," she murmurs, looking through the windshield at the woman in the road.

"Although then she favored the companionship of a piece of wood, as I recall."

"The Log Lady," Cooper says, as the woman in question turns and marches up the road, "is without her log. That's a riddle."

The car begins to move slowly.

"Is she still the Log Lady if she doesn't have it? Or is she someone else?"