tibetanmethod | (no subject)

There's a knock at the door, and then Hawk peeks around the edge of the door.

"Agent Cooper? Can I speak with you?"

"Take a load off, Hawk," Cooper says, turning around. "What's the news?"

Hawk sits; he's got coffee with him.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, and lays something on the table. It's a standard police evidence bag.

It's full of sand.

Cooper looks at it. He doesn't touch it.

"Where did this come from?"

(He'll assume that the significance will come out in further discussion.)

"Glastonbury Grove," Hawk says.

Hawk doesn't like to waste words.

...yes, Cooper isn't going to be touching it.

"I didn't notice anything like this before -- "

There's a Japanese rock garden at Milliways that eats people, and brings them to Twin Peaks. A Japanese rock garden with sand.

Cooper stares at Hawk.

"It used to be oil," Hawk says. "The oil's gone, and now it's sand."

"I took some elders out to look at it today. That's what I needed the half-day."

"Does Harry know about this?" Moiraine needs to know. And a warning sign on the door to the garden might not be a bad idea -- only that might draw people in.

There are doors to other worlds in Milliways. There are doors to other planes in Twin Peaks.

Cooper is willing to bet a large sum of money on the idea that they're starting to intermingle. To change.

Hawk nods.

"Agent Cooper." A long pause. "I'm a man with no secrets of my own," he says, by way of preface.

Secrets are dangerous things, Audrey.

Do you have any?

No.

Cooper nods.

"But I'm a member of the Bookhouse Boys, and a member of the Twin Peaks Sheriff's Department, and an Indian, and I've been Harry Truman's friend for more than twenty years." He sighs. "I have secrets. And responsibilities."

He nods again. "It's hard to balance them." More for something to say than anything else; Hawk knows that Cooper has an idea, or he very likely wouldn't be bringing this to Cooper at all.

Hawk nods, and rubs his forehead.

"This is a story my people tell about the Lodges. It isn't an Indian story; it's a story Indians tell, but it comes from the people who were here before us."

Coffee.

"People have killed for this land. Andrew Packard was killed for it. Indians were killed for it. And we killed for it."

"Our people worship spirits of the land, of the woods and plains and rivers. The people before us worshipped older things. Mammoths. Tigers. Storms and mountains. And the people they killed worshipped even older things."

"Spirits from outside. The things we know about the Lodges, about the Grove, have been handed down from those people."

Always outsiders. Invaders. History is cyclical, he knows that much; there's no reason Twin Peaks should be an exception.

Cooper is starting to wish he had a cup of coffee himself. He doesn't move to get one.

"Those spirits came here from that place," Hawk says. "Their place, beyond the stars. Great spirits, the elders tell me. Vast and incomprehensible to us. The Grove is an opening to a gateway," Hawk says. "That's what's been remembered."

"That gateway goes to the Lodge--that's what the elders told me today. Or it should." He touchs the bag of sand again.

"But it isn't." Slowly. "Not right now."

"I don't know how to investigate that," Hawk says grimly. "But yes. I think so."

"If the Lodge is a place." He speaks slowly; if there's something Hawk likes less than telling secrets, it's talking about if. "Then the Lodge may only be a part of it, like Twin Peaks is part of Washington State, which is itself part of America. Maybe that gateway points somewhere else now."

"This sand isn't from around here," Hawk says. "Can you have it analyzed? The FBI has those kinds of labs, right?"

"We do. A faster resource might be the university in Pullman -- they've got a strong natural science department, and better resources for local geology."

But Cooper is fairly certain he knows where the sand comes from.

He'll pull a sample from Milliways before he takes this one anywhere.

"It should take a week at most." Cooper looks at him closely. "Is that too much time?"

Hawk shakes his head. "I don't know. But Agent Cooper, I'm concerned. You've seen the arrest reports."

"Twin Peaks, the heart of the town itself, is in danger. The whole modern world is coming here, with all its evils. All my life, something protected us, price or not. Now..."

"People were killed for this land. Wiped out, as if they never existed."

The arrest reports, yes. They're growing in number -- and it's nothing creative, or supernatural. Petty crimes. Nothing overly violent. Yet.

Cooper's gaze sharpens. "All the more reason to resolve the business with Deer Meadow."

He nods. "Before we turn into them."

There was a Bookhouse in Deer Meadow, once, Hawk knows; another one of those secrets. This isn't one Cooper needs to know, he judges.

"I'm worried," he repeats. "And I'm not the only one. I ran into Garland Briggs at lunch. He asked me to ask you to come see him, when you get the chance."

"Did he say what it might be about?" Cooper expects not; Major Briggs doesn't really operate like that.

Hawk shakes his head, and stands. "I need to see Harry, and get out on patrol. Thanks, Agent Cooper."

"Any time, Hawk. I'll get this sent out before the end of the day." He nods at the bag of sand.

"Thanks," he says again, taking his coffee.

A moment later, Lucy peeks in and sets cup of coffe in front of him. In a styrofoam to-go cup.

Cooper finishes putting the sample of sand in his pocket, and beams at Lucy. "I don't know how you do it -- " He does. " -- and Lucy, I can't tell you how much I begin to appreciate it. Any idea where Harry is?"

"He's in his office--Hawk just went in there," she says. "Do you need to see him?"

Cooper shakes his head as he reaches for his coat, folded over a chair. "If he asks -- let him know that I've gone out. If I'll be longer than an hour or so, I'll call."

"Okay, Agent Cooper. Be careful, they're resurfacing the main road and I heard on the radio there's a skunk hanging around the detour." Lucy waves as she goes for the ringing switchboard.

Cooper takes the long way around.

The Briggs house is only a few houses down from his. He parks at home, and walks.

A few blocks up is where Leland Palmer accosted him in the dark.

Today there's sun. Cooper is glad of it.

He knocks on the front door.

Major Briggs opens the door--about two inches.

There's a thump and a rattle as the knob catches on something, and he pulls the door back and forth a bit.

"Uh--excuse me--"

"There," he says, opening the door all the way. "I was putting something from the closet, here, and the door was getting in the way. Please, come in."

Cooper steps through. "Hawk told me you wanted me to stop by. Is there anything wrong?"

"I'm not sure," the Major says. "Something... off, perhaps. Please, step into my office."

***

"I'm sure it goes without saying that what I'm about to show you is classified." There are four folders on the desk. "As you know, the purpose of Project Blue Book is to monitor certain unusual signals found in this part of the country, coming not from the sky, but from the ground. From the woods themselves."

"We use radio telescopes for this. Now, this is a radio telescope read out from an observatory in Oregon, showing what we normally expect to get as readings in an isolated area like Twin Peaks. Take a look at that--it forms a sort of baseline."

"And this is a normal reading here in Twin Peaks, from two years ago."

There's a difference in the two readings, he can see that much.

Cooper looks up from the folders to Major Briggs, and nods, once.

"Now, this third folder is the set of readings I showed you a few weeks ago, when the signal fell into a steady, repeating--and inexplicable--pattern. 'The owls are not what they seem.'"

He picks up the fourth file; taps it against the desk. "And these were taken this morning." He hands it over. "Notice anything?"

"...these match the baseline readings." His brow furrows. "Or closely enough for government work. As the saying goes."

"Yes," the Major says simply. "And these signals have been consistent for the last seventeen days."

Seventeen days ago, as Twin Peaks reckons it, Harry Truman pulled Dale Cooper -- and Josie Packard -- into Glastonberry Grove.

Under the sycamore trees.

"Any idea what to make of this?" Cooper asks, eyes on the contents of the fourth folder.

"Absolutely none, I'm afraid," Major Briggs says. "I had hoped you might be able to make some sense of it."

For a long moment Cooper doesn't say anything.

Then, slowly: "I should have something for you in a few days. Hopefully no longer than a week."

Between the lab, these readouts, and a consultation with a person or two in Milliways --

Cooper's just trying to get proof of what he already knows to be true, intuitively. Proof, and clarity, and an explanation.

Major Briggs nods. He looks impressed. "I suspected I could count on you, Agent Cooper."

"Glad to help," he says, and he means it, but he can't get Hawk's words out of his head.

People were killed for this land. Wiped out, as if they never existed.

If this is a natural process -- there's not likely to be any stopping it.

Cooper has a feeling he's not going to be sleeping easily tonight.