Work Text:
“Phone of Special Agent Rosenfield,” Diane said. Albert had been out all day and was now working well after hours. Not unusual. What was unusual was the voice on the other end of the line.
“... Do you know when he'll be back?”
“Who's calling?” She frowned. This was a direct line to Albert's desk. She didn't recognise the voice. If it wasn't one of their colleagues she couldn't think who else would have the number.
“Sheriff Truman, Twin Peaks.”
Oh. This was interesting. Albert had given his personal work number to the sheriff of that awful town he had actually taken time off to visit a few months ago? (Whose home phone number he had left as his contact when he was gone, like she wasn't going to notice that).
“What can I do for you Sheriff?”
“Can you just… Get him to call me back?” He read out the number to her, which she dutifully copied down.
She traced the number when she hung up. A pay phone at the airport. Seattle airport. She smiled. She was definitely going to get some answers.
-----
Diane waited another half an hour, fairly certain Albert wouldn't be back. She had taken some time to look up Sheriff Harry S. Truman to find his picture, she already knew the information and didn't need reminding of the case. She wondered what was so special about him, he looked pretty bland to her. She thought of him stranded at the airport. It would be rude to leave him there all night wouldn't it? She dialled the number.
“Yes?!” The desperate enthusiasm might be heartbreaking if she didn't find it so funny.
“I'm sorry Sheriff, Albert is working late.” She waited for his disappointment.
“Oh. Okay. Sure.” Exquisite.
“I can come and pick you up if you like?” Sometimes it paid to be pleasant.
“It's not… It's not about anything important.”
“Believe me a personal visitor for Albert Rosenfield, from out of town no less, is vitally important to me. I'll be there.” She hung up before he could compose a flustered response.
-----
Truman was waiting out front. Diane noted he had a suitcase. She watched him suffer for a while, nervously playing with the hair behind his ear.
“Sheriff Truman?” He startled and turned to her. “Diane Evans.”
She extended her hand and he shook it. He seemed surprised but more at ease.
“It's good to finally meet you.”
He didn't say how he knew about her. He didn't have to. She appreciated that he avoided the subject. They walked.
“Would you be alright to stay at my place tonight? It's late. Albert's probably in a foul mood.”
“I don't want to be any trouble-” He looked flustered.
“Nonsense. Don't worry, I don't bite. You're not my type,” they got in the car. “I'm not yours either.”
His awkward silence was conformation enough. His ears reddening was a bonus. Her week just got a whole lot better.
-----
She had told Truman to be up early but she had expected that she'd still have to wake him. She underestimated his eagerness. The man was in deep. 5:30am they were out of her apartment on route to Albert's. Diane wasn't a morning person, she was running solely on caffeine right now, but it would be worth it.
She knocked on the door much harder than necessary. No response. She continued. Harry cringed. Even when she heard curses behind the door she carried on. Harry seemed worried for the neighbours, furtively glancing at the doors.
“What the fuck-,” Albert spat as he opened the door but the sight of Harry stopped him dead. Wasn't that something.
“Albert-” Harry began.
“It's fucking 6am!” Albert cut across any sentiment that might occur.
“Good to see your mind is still so sharp this early Albert,” Diane interjected.
“What are you doing here?”
“The poor Sheriff was stranded at the airport last night. You weren't returning his calls. I thought that was extremely rude.”
“Oh did you now? Last night? Do elaborate on how your charitable soul helped him in those late hours.”
“He stayed at my place,” she saw Albert bristle. “He had a long journey and you were working so late…”
“Thank you for your concern over his welfare,” he bit back with no gratitude at all. “I'll see you at work.”
He grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him inside, slamming the door in her face.
“Don't be late Albert! I'll tell Gordon exactly why if you are!” She yelled at him through the wood. She heard his curses.
-----
Albert stared daggers at her all day. It wasn't creating the desired effect. It only served to amuse her more and increase his own irritation. She made sure to leave her office and pass him whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Diane had come in early, straight from leaving Albert's apartment. Gordon had been surprised but her glare was enough to silence him. She was planning to leave well before Albert was able to tonight. She had her own private investigation to work on.
When she left she made sure Albert didn't see her. It wasn't difficult - he was consumed by his work. Not due to dedication to the FBI today though. Still a dedication to part of the law she supposed. She headed for his apartment.
Harry opened the door to her and did a pretty good job of hiding his disappointment - he was a polite guy - but Diane had keen eyes. He stepped aside to let her in. Albert really hadn't told him anything.
“I came by to tell you Albert’s going to be working late again.”
“Nothing unusual there huh?” He didn't sound dejected about it, only fond.
The man clearly had the patience of a saint. A necessary trait to be so involved with Albert Rosenfield and not go completely crazy. Harry offered her a drink and she excused herself to ‘wash up’. Honestly, a woman could make any excuse, as often as she liked, to use the restroom and a man would never question her.
She opened and closed the bathroom door and went to the bedroom instead. The dull, uninspired décor did nothing to dissuade her. She began to rifle through the chest of drawers.
There was a beautifully nondescript brown envelope in the bottom of the second drawer. She took it out, knowing she'd hit the jackpot. There were Polaroid photographs inside. She leafed through them and boy what a jackpot it was.
“What are you doing Diane?” Harry was leaning against the door frame, arms folded.
“So you are a sheriff. I was beginning to wonder why Albert would be interested in someone so oblivious. Aside from your pretty face of course.”
“I have my moments,” clearly he was used to conversation loaded with snark and sarcasm. “You're not seeing them before I do.”
The man was full of surprises it seemed. He sat on the bed and she sat beside him as they looked through the photos together. There were pictures of Harry, just existing, unaware of the camera, of him sleeping, of him smiling. She looked over to him and saw him grinning like a lovesick fool. How Albert Rosenfield could make anyone look like that was beyond her.
“He has a good eye for photography,” his voice so warm and sweet she thought she might gag.
He was right though. The composition, framing and light in the pictures were all on point. It shouldn't be surprising really - Albert wouldn't half-ass anything.
There were pictures of what she assumed was Harry's quaint wooden home. It was a shame Albert wasn't in any of these. She was finding it difficult to imagine him being comfortable there, or being there at all. Especially when she started to notice the animals. The photos weren't of the animals specifically but they were in shot. A cat on the couch, chickens in the yard. Harry was holding kittens in one of them. It was almost too much. Almost.
“You're not going to let me take these are you?”
Harry looked back through them, smiling to himself.
“You know what my personal favourite is?” He dug around in his pocket and produced his wallet. He took a photo of his own out and held it up to her. It showed Albert lying back on a couch holding…
“Is that a hedgehog?”
Harry returned the rest of the photos to the envelope and handed it to her.
“Just get them back before he comes home.”
“You don't know what I'm going to do with them. Are you prepared for the consequences?”
“I'm not going to be implicated in this,” he said returning his own photo to his wallet. “It's fun to watch him get flustered,” he admitted with a grin that would've been described as sly on anyone who wasn't so sweet.
“I knew I liked you when I heard you punched him in the face.”
-----
She had made her own copies and was back with the originals in half an hour. Harry was genuinely pleased to see her this time. It wasn't right. He didn't know what she was really like. She looked past him into Albert's faceless apartment.
“Come on. I'm not letting you stay here another fucking minute.”
“Where are we going?” Harry asked as they walked into the night.
“A bar. Any bar.” She saw the colour drain from his face.
Diane remembered she offered him a drink at her place and got the same reaction. He had said he was tired from the flight and just wanted to sleep. Bullshit. His fingers were tugging at that strand of hair again.
“Coffee then,” she said instead.
“Yeah,” he said. His smile was fragile.
She could really do with a real fucking drink though.
-----
“You must be bored out of your fucking mind in that place,” Diane said as they sat down with their drinks.
“It's my own fault really - I hadn't told him I was coming.”
“You should know Albert isn't a fan of surprises.”
“It's good to keep him in his toes,” Harry said sipping at his drink.
Damn, this man was sneakier than she first thought. She was actually finding scratching away at his polite, measured manner quite interesting. Maybe she could loosen up on him a bit.
“I suppose screwing the Sheriff will stop him ever having to work a case Twin Peaks again.” Harry choked on his coffee. “Maybe that was part of his plan.”
Harry was coughing too much to respond. Diane couldn't tell if his face was red from lack of oxygen or embarrassment. She suspected it was both. She laughed.
“Albert warned me about you,” he finally managed.
“I bet he did. Yet here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“And not just because you hate his shitty apartment.”
“You want to know about Albert? So do I. So tell me.”
Oh, she could tell him a lot.
-----
“Harry!” Albert barked as soon as they turned into the corridor of his apartment. He didn't look impressed.
Harry sheepishly held out a key that Albert snatched from him.
“Albert there is such a thing as key cutting to make multiple versions of one key,” Diane said.
“Didn't I tell you not to associate with her?” Albert snapped at Harry.
“Jesus Albert he's a grown man. Aren't you being overprotective?” She let the amusement creep into her tone.
“You can't tell me it's not justified,” he spat, pointing at her in an accusatory fashion.
“Thank you Diane,” Harry said, deliberately countering Albert's message.
“For what?”
“She's been keeping me company.” There was a playful accusation hidden in his words.
“You can't keep a country boy locked up in a city like this Albert,” Diane said.
“I was working.”
Diane was already halfway down the hall.
“Goodnight Diane!” Harry called after her, mostly to annoy Albert.
The man had a death wish. She heard Albert hissed warnings and Harry's laugh echoing down the corridor behind her.
-----
Diane was at work early again the next morning. She was glad this was the last time she’d planned to do so. Her brain wouldn't be able to manage another attempt. She stepped back and admired her handiwork.
The photos she had copied were now neatly arranged on the wall by Albert's desk. In clear view for everyone to appreciate her hard work. Diane smiled. She heard the elevator and went to her office. She locked the door.
It didn't take long.
“DIANE!,” Albert hammered on her door and then sounded like he was trying to kick it down.
“WHAT’S THE HUBBUB ALBERT?”
“This is harassment Gordon - I'm applying for a transfer!”
“IS THAT OUR OLD FRIEND SHERIFF TRUMAN?”
“Gordon-”
“I THINK IT LOOKS SWELL ALBERT.”
“GORDON!”
Diane couldn't hear the rest over her own laughter.