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Chapter Text

The only thing that saved him was just a flash in the broken mirror of a face that was not Coop’s. It was a face Harry recognized from the sketch, the face of Bob. He only saw Bob for an instant before the face morphed back into Coop, but now he could see that it wasn’t really Coop. He could see Bob’s wild eyes and manic grin through the blood dripping from the forehead of Coop’s face. That was the only thing that made him jump backwards out of the bathroom, slamming his back against the wall of Room 315, away from the shard of mirrored glass that Bob wielded at he spun around toward Harry, still laughing and saying in that mocking voice that sounded nothing like Coop, “how’s Annie? how’s Annie?” It wasn’t enough to save him completely, though; the edge of the glass shard still sliced across the side of Harry’s neck, just missing the jugular artery that Bob had no doubt been aiming for. At first there was little pain, but he felt the thick wetness begin to ooze down, and a second later the first dull throb hit, then another, synchronized to his heartbeat. The ringing in his ears muffled out Bob’s hideous laughter, and he didn’t know he was falling until he felt the wall slide against his back as his legs went out from under him. Dimly, he saw Bob run out of the room into the fading gray corners of his vision. Then, Doc Hayward’s hand was on his neck; he was speaking, but Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying. He was sitting against the wall of Room 315 with his legs stretched out in front of him, feeling the blood pour out of his neck, staring at the shattered mirror above him, and Bob was gone, but so was Coop. Room 315 and Doc Hayward and the blood and the mirror faded away, and all was dark and silent.

Red was the first color to reappear. A pool of red blood rippling gently like Pearl Lake being stirred by the breeze. No, red curtains, shimmering over the sycamore trees of Glastonbury Grove. Harry reached out his hand and touched the curtain, thick, heavy velvet. He pushed his way inside.

The room had black and white tiles angling across, the red curtains surrounding all sides, and two couches. In the far corner, a human form was crouched against the wall. Harry walked across the room and knelt beside the figure, which turned to him. It was Coop, and he was terrified. He rocked back and forth like a mental patient, his eyes darting around the room. Harry had never seen Coop scared before.

“You’re bleeding,” Coop said. But the way he said it sounded weird, like his voice had been recorded and then the tape played backwards.

Harry lifted his hand to his neck; it came away bloody. When he looked back at Coop, he saw that his clean white dress shirt was now covered in blood as well, like it had been that night when he was shot. “So are you,” was all Harry could say.

“You’re not talking backwards.”

“No. Forwards.”

“I think that means you’re not really here. Am I talking backwards?”

“Sounds that way to me.”

“Then I must be really here. Maybe if I can figure out how to talk backwards it will come out forwards and that means I won’t be here anymore.”

Harry tried to wrap his mind around that. He couldn’t think, something about this place seemed to slow everything down, including the working of his brain.

Coop continued speaking, but now he sounded a bit more normal. Maybe he was having some success at his speaking-backward-in-order-to-speak forward trick. “This is important. There’s another me.”

“Yeah, I met him.”

“He’s not me. He’s Bob.”

“I know.”

“Did he kill you?” Coop’s speech was fully forwards now, but his voice was shaking, from effort or emotion, Harry couldn’t tell which.

“Maybe.” That would make sense, Harry realized. This place seemed as likely a candidate for hell as any. He tried to figure out how he felt about that, but he still didn’t feel much of anything.

“Go away.” Coop was speaking backwards again. “I don’t want you here. You don’t belong here.” He buried his head in his arms against his knees and resumed his rocking back and forth.

“Neither do you,” Harry said, reaching out for him. But Coop flinched away, covering his ears with his hands.

“GO AWAY!” The backwards-speech scream was bloodcurdling. All around Harry, blood was running down the red curtains and across the tiled floor, the entire room was dissolving into a red mist …

Harry opened his eyes to see Doc Hayward and Hawk standing over him, the stained hospital ceiling above them.

“Don’t try to speak, Harry,” Doc Hayward said. He looked exhausted. Poor Doc, he had sure been busy lately. “That shard of glass almost took your head off. But if you’re going to get your throat slashed, might as well have a doctor in the room with you. I was able to stop the bleeding and get you stitched up. You’ll be okay, no permanent damage.”

Harry reached up and gingerly touched the wound on his neck. It was swathed in thick gauze bandages, but he could feel the stitches prickling underneath.

“Wasn’t Coop,” he croaked. His throat seemed to burn as his voice rasped through it. “Bob.”

“Yeah, we figured as much,” Hawk said. “I mean, we knew Agent Cooper wouldn’t hurt you. So Bob is possessing Cooper like he did with Leland?”

Harry shook his head, frustrated. Every word he spoke was like glass in his throat, but it was important for them to understand. “Not Coop. Double.”

Doc Hayward and Hawk exchanged a glance across Harry’s bed. “So you’re saying that wasn’t Agent Cooper you brought back from the woods?” Doc Hayward said slowly. “That means Agent Cooper is…”

“Still in the Black Lodge,” Hawk finished grimly. Harry nodded and started to sit up.

“Wait, Harry, you can’t go anywhere right now,” Doc Hayward said, pushing him back down.

Harry waved him off impatiently, swinging his legs down over the edge of the bed. “Need to find Coop,” he rasped. The room was spinning drunkenly.

“Listen to me,” Doc Hayward said firmly. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. See that?” he gestured at the IV pole, which Harry hadn’t even noticed he was attached to. “You’re in the middle of a blood transfusion. If you don’t get that pint in you in the next hour, you will keel over, which means you won’t be able to help Agent Cooper at all. Now I recommend staying in the hospital another day or two to recover, but if you insist upon leaving once the transfusion is done, I won’t try to stop you. Deal?”

Harry nodded and laid back down. He really was too dizzy to stand up right now.

“Now,” Doc Hayward continued. “Harry, how can you even know that Agent Cooper is in the Black Lodge? Isn’t it more likely that he’s being possessed by Bob, like Leland was? Or, I hate to say this, but maybe his experience in the Black Lodge was so traumatic that he had a psychotic break, and the man who attacked you really was Agent Cooper?” Harry shook his head vehemently. “But how do you know?”

“Saw him. Talked to him.”

“When?”

“Just now. Dream. Vision.”

“Harry, you’ve just been through major physical and emotional trauma. I don’t doubt that you experienced something, but it may not be what you’re thinking.”

“I believe you, Harry,” Hawk said quietly. “We know that Agent Cooper is gifted with visions. If he knew his shadow self had escaped from the Black Lodge, he would do everything he could to warn us.”

Well, Harry was glad it made sense to Hawk anyway. He knew what he was saying was crazy, but so was everything else that had been going on since Laura’s murder. He knew, in a deep and visceral way, that he really had seen Coop in the Black Lodge and that he needed to get him out.

With one more admonishment to Harry to stay until the blood transfusion was complete, Doc Hayward went off to see other patients, grumbling that they would need to open a new wing of the hospital if this kept up. Harry turned to Hawk to ask for an update on the situation, but Hawk seemed to understand what he wanted before he even asked.

“No sign of Bob yet. He was seen fleeing the Great Northern into the woods after he attacked you last night, but nothing since then. We’ve been sending out notices warning the public to stay away from anyone matching Agent Cooper’s description and that he should be considered dangerous.”

“Make sure they know it’s not really him,” Harry managed to say haltingly. “Evil twin. Something.” He definitely wanted people to stay away from Bob, but his heart ached at the thought of the residents of Twin Peaks, whom Coop had come to regard as his friends and neighbors, being afraid of him. That would make things even more difficult for Coop when he came back.

Hawk nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll start spreading a rumor that it’s Agent Cooper’s evil twin. Sounds like something out of Invitation to Love, but so have a lot of other things around here lately. People will believe it.”

“Thanks.” Harry was grateful to Hawk for understanding the importance of protecting Coop’s reputation. “Annie?”

“She’s okay physically. Lots of small shallow cuts, nothing too serious. But she’s kind of like Ronette was, not talking. Dr. Jacoby says it’s a post-traumatic fugue state. Norma is going to bring her to the hospital in Spokane tomorrow.”

Harry reflected on that. He was relieved that Annie wasn’t badly injured. Coop would have been devastated if she had died. Although it sounded like it was still a rough road ahead for her. Well, Ronette seemed to be doing better now (at least, she had been until they had traumatized her with the burnt engine oil the other day, which he still felt bad about), so hopefully Annie would recover in time as well.

“Lots of other stuff going on too. There was an explosion at the bank yesterday afternoon.” Oh yeah, Harry remembered Doc Hayward saying something about that when he had dropped Annie off at the hospital, but he had been so out of his mind with worry about Coop that he hadn’t paid much attention to it. “Apparently one of the safety-deposit boxes had a bomb inside that was rigged to explode when it was opened. Andrew Packard was killed in the explosion.”

Harry  looked at Hawk, perplexed. “Andrew’s dead.”

“Yeah. It turns out he was alive, but now he’s dead. And Pete Martell was injured in the explosion as well. He’s in critical condition.” Harry was sorry to hear that, he’d always liked the guy. “And Audrey Horne got some minor injuries at the bank. Speaking of which, Ben Horne has a concussion. Don’t know exactly what happened, but it seems he and Doc Haywood had some sort of altercation last night.” Huh, that was weird, Doc Hayward always got along with everyone, and he couldn’t think of any bone he’d have to pick with Ben Horne (other than Ben being a slimy rat bastard in general), but maybe that was what Doc Hayward had been so frazzled about last night. “So I took statements today from the Haywards and from Mrs. Horne, who witnessed the fight, and I had Andy collect evidence from the bank, but the priority is tracking down Bob.”

Harry nodded his approval. He was glad to have Hawk as his right-hand man. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Just past 1.” That meant it would be dark in about five hours, and the Lodge would be open again then.

“Hawk, I want you out looking for Bob. You’re our best tracker. Have Andy come back here in an hour to pick me up. And call Major Briggs, have him meet me at the station.” He wanted to consult Major Briggs about the Lodge again before tonight. Thinking for a moment, he added, “The Log Lady too.” Might as well have all hands on deck.

“You got it, Harry.” Hawk stood up and left.

Harry took a deep breath. Five more hours, and he would be entering the Black Lodge to find Coop. On the one hand, it was driving him crazy that he had to wait that long. From what he had seen in his vision, Coop was suffering, and he couldn’t stand the thought of that continuing for even another minute. Who even knew if time worked the same way in the Lodge, maybe five hours felt like five years there. One the other hand, Harry also wished he had more time to prepare. Tired and weak as he was, he didn’t feel capable of taking on a toddler at the moment, let alone a place of ancient and unspeakable evil. Still, it probably didn’t matter how much time he had, he would never be prepared for this. Look at Coop, as prepared as anyone could be, with his mental discipline and bright spirit. What was that Major Briggs had said was needed to face the spirits of the Black Lodge? Perfect courage. That was definitely Coop, Harry had never met anyone more courageous. And yet the Lodge had gotten him.

Harry was angry at himself that he had let Coop go in alone, but at the time he thought he had understood. This kind of mumbo-jumbo was for people who were gifted, as Hawk had said, not for regular schmucks like him. That hadn’t completely taken away the horror of seeing Coop disappear behind that red curtain, but he had complete faith in Coop’s abilities. He had waited for him in the woods all night, and all day, and into the next night, because he knew, he believed to the core of his being, that Coop would face down the evil of the Black Lodge with his perfect courage and emerge unscathed. If Annie and Coop’s double hadn’t reappeared, he would be waiting there still. As it was, he had seen the two bodies appear and run to them, calling for Coop. Dropping down between them, he had seen that Coop appeared unscathed, just lying there with a blank look in his eyes. Annie, on the other hand, was unconscious and bloody, and Harry had been unable to rouse her. “Please, Coop,” he had begged. “I can’t carry you both. I need you to get up and come with me.” As much as he was desperate to get help for Annie, there had been no way he was going to leave Coop in Glastonbury Grove for even a minute. After some tugging and cajoling, Coop had risen to his feet, and Harry had picked up Annie. They had stumbled through the darkness following the wildly swaying light of Harry’s flashlight, which he was struggling to hold in front of their path while also carrying Annie. When they finally arrived at Harry’s truck, he had gotten Annie into the middle of the seat and then sort of shoved Coop in beside her on the passenger’s side. Harry had driven them down the dirt road through the dark woods as fast as he could. “You okay, Coop?” he had asked when he reached the highway. There had been no response. Harry had glanced over and seen in the slanting glow of the passing streetlights that same blank look on Coop’s face. Annie had been slumped against Coop, but he made no effort to try to hold her in place or stop her bleeding or even acknowledge her presence, and that had scared Harry more than anything, because Coop loved Annie, had been positively aglow with joy at the mere thought of her these past few days, so this indifference just wasn’t him.

Pulling up by the ER doors, Harry had honked his horn until a couple of orderlys came running out. He had gotten out to help them load Annie onto a stretcher, then glanced back at Coop, the lights from the hospital sign showing that eerie blankness on his face. Should he bring Coop in too? No, he had decided. He seemed to be physically fine, and Harry was sure he wouldn’t want to be seen like this. He would take him back to his room at the Great Northern, and maybe he would be better after some rest. Harry had been a bit surprised to see Doc Hayward come out of the hospital as the orderlys wheeled Annie in; he didn’t normally work the night shift. “What happened?” the doctor had asked. “Windom Earle brought her into the Black Lodge,” Harry had answered tersely. “Look, Doc, when you’re done over here, will you come over to Room 315 at the Great Northern? There’s something wrong with Coop.” Doctor Hayward had looked over at Coop, still sitting placidly in the passenger seat of Harry’s truck, and said, “Okay, but it might be a while. There was an explosion at the bank today and Ben Horne also had a bit of an accident…” Not at all interested, Harry had just thanked him and gotten back in the truck.

On the drive to the Great Northern, Harry had tried once more to engage Coop in conversation, but to no avail. This silent version of Coop was creeping him out; he didn’t think he had ever spent more than thirty seconds in Coop’s presence without Coop saying something. When they arrived at the hotel, Harry had parked the truck and opened Coop’s door, tugging him by the arm to get him to move. Coop had walked obediently beside Harry through the mercifully empty hallways of the hotel, with Harry’s hand on his arm as a guide. It had been like Coop was perfectly capable of moving but just saw no reason to do anything unless prodded to. When they arrived at the door of Room 315, Harry had stopped and hoped he wouldn’t have to call the front desk for a key. He had patted the front pockets of the unresisting Coop’s jacket and found the key card. Once inside, Harry had shoved Coop into a sitting position on the bed. He had bent down so he was eye-level with Coop, grabbed both sides of his face, and said his name once more, loudly. Still no response, no recognition, nothing. This close up, Harry had been able to see that the eyes looked nothing like Coop’s eyes, looked like there was nothing and no one behind them. That was the moment when he should have realized that this wasn’t Coop at all. Instead, he had just pulled away, deciding to try to make Coop more comfortable, He had hunted through Coop’s luggage and grabbed a pair of blue silk pajamas. He had, with some difficulty, gotten Coop’s shoes, tie, and suit off and the pajamas on, and then pushed him back into a laying position and covered him with a blanket. Then Harry had sunk into the room’s chair and dropped his head in his hands. He hadn’t known what to do. He wasn’t really a believer, but he had found himself repeating over and over in his head in what sounded like a prayer, Please let him be okay. Please just let him get some sleep and then wake up and be Coop again.

Harry had been more exhausted then he’d ever been in his life, having just gone forty-eight hours without sleep, but he knew there was no chance of sleep himself, not when his mind was wound up tight as a steel coil with lingering adrenaline and worry. Coop had seemed to have fallen asleep; at any rate, his eyes were closed and he was breathing slow and steady. Harry had paced back and forth across the small room and jumped when there was a knock at the door. He had opened it and let in Doc Hayward, who had apologized for being late, there was a lot going on at the hospital and also he was having some family trouble, Donna was really upset and Ben Horne was a slimy rat bastard and … Harry wasn’t listening. He had ushered Doc Hayward over to Coop’s bedside, where the doctor had started his examination but had been interrupted by Coop apparently waking up. Harry had been initially relieved when Coop started talking again, especially when he had asked about Annie, but when he had stood up to go brush his teeth, Harry had felt his worry settle back in. Coop’s voice when he had spoken was flat and didn’t sound like him at all, and he had moved in such a weird uncertain way, like he had to think about each the movement of each individual muscle, and when he had stumbled and Harry had reached out to steady him, he had gotten another close look at Coop’s face, and his eyes were still terrible and empty. After that, Coop had gone into the bathroom, and Harry hadn’t had time to do much more than exchange a worried glance with Doc Hayward before they heard the loud crash of breaking glass…

So the Black Lodge had defeated Coop And that meant Harry didn’t stand a chance either, not if the evil in the Lodge had been too powerful for the best man Harry had ever known. Still, he couldn’t even contemplate the idea of not trying. The horrible sounds of Coop screaming in the Black Lodge of his vision were still ringing in his ears. If nothing else, Harry resolved, he would be trapped in the Lodge too, and that way Coop wouldn’t have to face the terror alone.

Chapter Text

After about an hour, as the last of the blood from the IV bag dripped into Harry’s IV line, Andy appeared though the curtains surrounding Harry’s bed. As soon as he saw Harry, his eyes began to well up with tears.

“Andy, please don’t cry.” Normally Harry found Andy’s empathy with crime victims rather endearing, if inconvenient, but he couldn’t deal with it right now when he was emotionally on the edge himself.

“Sorry, Harry. It’s just, you’re hurt, and Agent Cooper…” Andy couldn’t talk anymore as the sobs took over.

“Make yourself useful, okay? Go get a nurse to unhook me from this thing.” Harry gestured at the IV.

A few minutes later, Harry had been freed from the IV line by a skeptical-seeming nurse, found his clothes in a bag on the floor, and gotten dressed. Apparently Doc Hayward had been right about the need for the transfusion, because he felt better now. Still weak like he was getting over the flu, but he didn’t feel like he was about to keel over anymore. He joined Andy, who was waiting outside the privacy curtains and had gotten enough of a hold on himself that was merely sniffling instead of sobbing.

They began walking through the ward towards the lobby. The hospital certainly did seem busier than normal. Harry caught a glimpse of a nurse opening the privacy curtain around one bed, which apparently was Pete’s, because Catherine Martell was sitting next to it with her head in her hands. So the ice queen had a heart after all. Harry had never forgiven her for how she had treated Josie, but he did feel for her now that her brother was dead and her husband was seriously injured. Looking away, Harry glanced at a bed where the privacy curtains were half open. He stopped. In the bed was Annie, her face covered in bandages. She looked to be asleep. Norma and Big Ed were sitting in chairs beside her bed, Ed whispering to Norma with his arm around her shoulders. Harry started to move again, not wanting to intrude, but Norma caught Harry’s eye and she and Ed both got up and came through the curtain.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” asked Norma in a soft voice. Her eyes were red and her mascara was staining down the tear tracks on her face.

“I’m fine,” Harry replied, straining not to let his voice rasp too much. “Annie?”

“She’s in there somewhere.” Norma was clearly trying not to cry. “She smiles when I read her favorite Bible passages. Harry, I don’t know how to thank you for bringing her back to us.”

“All I did was bring her to the hospital. Agent Cooper was the one who saved her.”

Norma lost the battle against her tears. “And I understand he’s now missing?”

“We’ll find him,” Harry assured her.

Norma dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Big Ed handed her. “Thank you, Harry,” she said. She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek and then went back to Annie’s bedside.

Big Ed lingered for a moment. “Harry, if there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know,” he said seriously, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Ed. I will. You just take care of Norma for now.”

Harry and Andy proceeded out of the ward and into the lobby. As they were crossing over towards the exit, Harry heard a voice call “Sheriff Truman!” He turned and saw Audrey hurrying over to him. She had her arm in a sling and a bandage on her forehead.

“What’s happened to Agent Cooper?” she demanded. “I heard he was missing in the woods. Is he okay?”

Harry sighed. For someone who had only been in town for a few weeks, Coop sure had a lot of people who cared about him here. He was just like that, able to make instant connections with people. “He is missing, but we’ll find him.” Audrey’s eyes were huge and rapidly filling with tears, and Harry felt the need to reassure her further. “I’m sure he’ll be glad that you’re not hurt too bad. You doing okay?”

Audrey nodded. “Yeah, just a broken arm and this cut on my face. They actually let me go this morning, but now I’m here to see my father. He just woke up. I don’t know what he did to piss off Doc Hayward, but it must have been something spectacular. And this is when he’s trying to be good.” Harry smiled a bit at that and turned to leave, but Audrey caught at his sleeve. “Sorry, Sheriff, I know you’re busy, but I heard some of the nurses saying something crazy about Agent Cooper’s evil twin being in town…”

Harry was pleased that Hawk’s rumor mill was churning away effectively. “Yeah. It’s a long story and I don’t have time to get into it now, but there’s someone who looks like Agent Cooper, but isn’t him, and is very dangerous. So stay inside as much as you can, and don’t go out alone. Okay? Tell your friends too.” He looked straight at Audrey to make sure she was taking this seriously. She would be a tempting target for Bob, given his taste for young pretty girls, not to mention that she was someone Coop cared about, which would probably get Bob even more excited.

“Okay, I will.” Satisfied, Harry and Andy left the hospital.

When they got into Andy’s truck, Andy rummaged around in the backseat and produced a paper bag containing a variety of cardboard takeout containers. “I thought you might be hungry, since you didn’t eat all day yesterday while you were in the woods waiting for Agent Cooper to come back and then were stuck at the hospital with only hospital food, so I stopped at the Double R and got you a plate special.”

“Thanks, Andy.” Harry hadn’t felt hungry, but the smell of the food made him suddenly ravenous. In the few minutes it took to drive to the sheriff’s station, he polished off the meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and bread roll. As they pulled up in front of the station, he found one more small cardboard container in the bottom of the bag and opened it. Inside was a slice of Norma’s cherry pie. He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. He would save it for Coop, he decided.

Inside the station, Harry stopped off to stick the pie slice in the mini-fridge, hiding it behind an ancient jar of mayo (the sheriff station was a lawless place when it came to food theft). Grabbing some coffee while he was at it, he went to his office, where Major Briggs and the Log Lady were already assembled. Andy came in a minute later. Harry surveyed his team. Major Briggs sat straight up, looking inquisitive, Andy sat on his desk and immediately knocked over a coffee mug full of pens, and Margaret stroked and whispered to her log. Not exactly the A-team. Harry wished Hawk were here, but knew he was needed in the search for Bob. Harry would have liked to have Big Ed’s help too, as one of the most reliable of his Bookhouse Boys, but he couldn’t take him away from Norma right now. So this was the team he had.

“I don’t know what Deputy Hill told you all,” he said, “but it was Agent Cooper’s double, possessed by Bob, who escaped from the Black Lodge last night. Coop is still trapped inside. So as soon as the Lodge opens again tonight, I’m going in to find him and bring him back.”

No one said anything for a moment. Andy fiddled with a stapler from Harry’s desk, looking worried. Major Briggs and the Log Lady exchanged a glance. Then Major Briggs said, “Harry, are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“The thing is,” Major Briggs went on. “You may not be able to bring Agent Cooper back. In all likelihood, you’ll be trapped in the Black Lodge with him.”

“I know.”

Realization seemed to dawn on the Major’s face. “That’s your plan, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Harry hedged. “It’s not Plan A. Plan A is to get both of us out. But yeah, if that fails, Plan B remains as an option. I can’t leave him there alone.”

“Hmm.” Major Briggs stood up and turned to look out the window, considering. Then he turned to look back at Harry. “When you enter the Lodge, you need to have that intention in your mind, that thought, that feeling. Focus on that and nothing else, understand?”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “But why?”

“Because that’s love. That’s what might get you into the White Lodge, instead of fear dragging you into the Black Lodge.”

“But I need to get into the Black Lodge. That’s where Coop is.”

The Log Lady, who up to this point had spoken to no one other than her log, chimed in, “My log says that the path out of the Black Lodge leads through the White Lodge.”

Harry thought about that for a moment. “So you’re saying—”

“Not me,” she snapped irritably.

“So your log is saying that if I can get in to the White Lodge, I can access the Black Lodge from there, then bring Coop back through the White Lodge.”

The Log Lady nodded. For the first time, Harry felt a glimmer of hope, but it was quickly quashed as he remembered what Major Briggs had told Coop about needing perfect courage.

“I’ll try, but I don’t see how it will work. I mean, if you need perfect courage to face the Black Lodge, and it was too much for Coop, how will I ever get though?”

“I believe you can do it, Harry,” Major Briggs interjected. “What you’re doing sounds like an act of perfect courage to me. Besides, we know that Agent Cooper has unusual psychic abilities, which may have made him more susceptible to the evils of the Black Lodge. If you do what I advised, and keep your mind focused on your feelings of love, I think you have a chance.”

Okay, it was a plan. Maybe not the greatest plan, but it was all he had to go on. “Thanks to you both for your help,” Harry said to the Major and the Log Lady.

They stood up to leave, but Major Briggs stopped and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, one more piece of advice. Try to catch a bit of shuteye before you go. You look exhausted, and the better-rested you are, the better you’ll be able to handle the mental strain of this journey.”

“Okay, I’ll try. Thanks again.”

After they had left, Harry left instructions for Andy to wake him around five, and headed down to the holding cells to nap for a couple of hours on one of the bunks. He hadn’t thought he would be able to sleep, but he fell immediately into a thankfully dreamless slumber as soon as he laid down. The next thing he knew, Hawk was shaking him awake.

“Any sign of Bob?” Harry asked, yawning as he got up. The wound on his neck was tender and sent shockwaves of pain down his shoulder if he tried to move too fast or turn his head, but at least talking wasn’t quite as painful now. He guessed the food and sleep had done him some good.

“No, still nothing. I thought it was best to come back and help you with the Lodge tonight.”

“Glad you’ll be there, Hawk.”

Harry and Andy both piled into Hawk’s truck, and in silence they headed down the road leading to Glastonbury Grove. Harry could feel the anxiety rising within him at what he was about to do, but focused on taking deep breaths and keeping his mind as empty as possible. That became increasingly difficult as they pulled off the road and walked the short distance to the grove of sycamores glowing in the moonlight, branches rustling overhead, owls calling, the smell of burnt engine oil drifting through the forest.

When they arrived at the large log where Harry had waited for Coop’s return, Harry turned to Hawk and Andy. “Stay here. I don’t know how long it will take, but make sure that one of you is here at all times, just in case.” He didn’t expect them both to wait night and day like he had for Coop, but he did want someone armed at the Lodge entrance at all times, just in case something came through besides him and Coop. Hawk nodded solemnly, and Andy looked like he might start crying again, so Harry turned away and walked through the sycamores. As he rounded the pond of smelly oil, the red curtains appeared, just as they had for Coop. Harry took one more deep breath, cleared his mind of everything but his desire to help Coop, and stepped in.

Chapter Text

Initially all he could see was the swirling of the heavy red velvet around him. All the night sounds of the forest outside had vanished. For a moment Harry fell panic swell up inside him, as he had a flashback of pushing through this curtain in his dream and of the Coop he had found there, shaking and screaming and speaking that unearthly backwards language. And then, even worse, a flash of the not-Coop he had seen outside, with the empty eyes that Bob hid behind. But he ruthlessly pushed those images away, because they led to fear, and that was the last thing he needed in mind right now. Love. Nothing in your mind but love. Well, he could do that, because Coop was so easy to love. Harry let the moments from their short but intense friendship play through his mind like a film. The delight Coop took in ordinary things, like Douglas firs and cherry pie and Harry himself. Coop’s smile, which he seemed to form not only with his face but with his whole being. That goofy thumbs-up he did whenever he was especially pleased with something, which was often. His arms around Harry when he was drunk and mad with grief after Josie’s death, bringing him back to the world. That mind that was like nothing else Harry had ever encountered, that seemed to spring from some sort of hybrid of Sherlock Holmes and the Buddha. Harry had no shortage of love for Coop, and he let it fill him up and overflow, warming him from the inside out like strong coffee on a cold morning. I’m coming for you, Coop. I’m not leaving without you.

And just like that, he was through the curtains. The place he found himself in was not the place he had visited in his dream. Instead, wildflowers of every color stretched out before his feet, growing so close together they resembled a floral-pattern carpet. The walls consisted of trees, not the log paneling that was such a popular architectural choice in Twin Peaks, but living trees of all types, redwoods and acacias and oaks and palm trees and Douglas firs (tall, majestic Douglas firs), their limbs forming the ceiling, their sunlight filtering through their leaves and needles and blossoms and cones. The air was filled with birdsong and the sound of flowing water and the scents of flowers and pine needles and soil. It was a place overflowing with life.

“Coop?” Harry called out. It no longer hurt to speak, in fact the wound on his neck seemed to be gone, although the bandage was still there.

“He’s not here.”

Harry whirled around to see who had spoken. It was Laura Palmer, wearing the dress and tiara she was wearing in the photo on the Palmers’ mantel, from the night she had been voted prom queen.

“So this is…” Harry asked her.

“The White Lodge.”

So Harry had made it. “It’s good to see you, Laura,” he said.

She smiled. “You’re surprised to see me here, Sheriff. I was surprised to find myself here. You know, before I died, I thought I hated everyone in my life, hated myself. But I refused to let Bob take me, and in the end I fought him.”

“I know. You were brave, Laura. And I think what gave you that courage was your love for your family, your friends, the town.”

She nodded. “That was why the White Lodge took me in. Maddie is here too, and my father. I don’t think he would have made it if Dale hadn’t said that prayer for him, comforted him during his death.”

“And now Dale is…”

“In the other Lodge, yes.”

Harry felt pinpricks of tears in his eyes. It was just so unfair. “But why? He has more courage than anyone I know. He went in to save Annie, he loves her.”

“It’s not any failing in him. The power of the Black Lodge is beyond anything he could have imagined.”

“Then how did I get here?”

“You had seen the full power of the Black Lodge and chose to enter anyway, knowing you might not be able to leave, out of love. You knew what you were facing, and yet you were able to clear your mind of fear. That is an act of perfect courage.”

“How do I get to the Black Lodge from here?”

“The same way you came.” She pointed to the red curtains, which had reappeared behind him. “When it’s time, going through the curtains from the Black Lodge will bring you back here. Now that you’ve visited the White Lodge, you have the power to return to the outside world whenever you choose. But Sheriff, the hardest part is still ahead of you. Dale cannot follow you out of the Black Lodge unless he can find an exit. The longer he stays, the stronger the Lodge’s hold becomes.”

“How do I help him?”

“You’ll know.” Laura reached down and picked a flower, handing it to him. It was a marigold. “A gift.”

“Thank you, Laura.” She smiled, as lovely as ever. Harry put the marigold in his shirt pocket and, steeling himself, pushed back through the curtain.

As soon as he was through, Harry recognized the place from his dream. He was in the Black Lodge. He had entered into a hallway, lined on both sides with the red curtains and with the familiar black-and-white chevron tiles on the floor. The pleasant scents and sounds of the White Lodge had been replaced with that smell of burnt motor oil, which he was really starting to despise, and dead silence. The shapes of unseen things seemed to brush up against him, adding to the foreboding. “Coop?” he called. The sound of his own voice frightened him; the word came out sounding like Coop’s speech had in his dream visit, like it had been recorded and then played backwards. The curtains seemed to swallow the sound.

Harry pushed through the first curtain on the right and entered the room he had been in during his dream. On one of the two couches sat a dwarf, wearing a red suit. On the other sat Coop.

“Coop,” Harry said. Coop made no sign that he had heard. He was just sitting there, staring straight ahead. In his hand was a coffee cup. He turned it upside down, and a thick black oil-like substance oozed out of it onto the floor. As he turned it right-side up again, the oil flowed backwards into the cup. Turned upside-down again, a flurry of black ash spilled out, which then returned to the cup when it was turned right-side up again. Another downward turn, a solid black cube fell to the floor and shattered, the shards reassembling as the cup returned to its upright position. Staring at Coop twirling the cup, Harry noted that the Black Lodge really knew how to torture. It must be killing Coop to have that coffee cup with coffee-like substances inside that were not coffee.

Harry slowly crossed the floor and sat on the couch next to Coop. The dwarf looked at Harry from his couch and announced, “This is the waiting room” in the unearthly speech of the Lodge. Coop continued twirling the coffee cup, staring into the middle distance.

Ignoring the dwarf, Harry said “Coop” again and reached out tentatively for Coop’s shoulder. When his hand made contact, Coop suddenly snapped into action. Flinging the coffee cup across the room so that it shattered against the wall, he screamed like he had in Harry’s dream. “NOT YOU!” It was horrifying how the backwards speech made him sound like one of the monsters who dwelled here.

Harry drew his hand back like he’d been burned. “Coop, it’s me.” His own words sounded like a foreign language to him. Across the room, the shards of coffee cup and of not-coffee fused back together and flew back into Coop’s hand.

“All the doppelgangers are of the dead, or those who might as well be,” Coop muttered.

“Coop, I’m not a doppelganger, and I’m not dead.” The dwarf had risen from his couch and was now swaying gently across the room, dancing to some unheard music.

“I saw you.”

Did he mean the dream? “I’m fine, Coop. I came here to find you and bring you back.”

Suddenly the lights flickered, and Leland appeared in front of them, his eyes milky white. “Came here to find you!” the Leland doppelganger shrieked in a mockery of Harry’s words. Another flicker of the lights, and a doppelganger of Windom Earle stood next to Leland, his body wreathed in flame. “Bring you back!” he screamed. The lights began flickering faster and faster, like a strobe light.

Coop rose to his feet and ran out of the room, Harry instinctively getting up and following, and the doppelgangers of Leland and Windom Earle came after them. They ran through the curtains, into the hallway, then through another set of curtains back into the Waiting Room. They repeated these motions more times than Harry could count, but every time they passed through the curtains, they entered either the hallway or the Waiting Room, the lights strobing all the while. Sometimes the Waiting Room was empty, sometimes the two couches were there, other times they had to dodge the dwarf as he danced across the room. Harry was soon tired, and he worried that he was freaking Coop out even more by chasing him like one of the doppelgangers, but he was terrified of losing Coop and not being able to find him again. No matter how fast he ran, Coop was always the same distance ahead of him, and the doppelgangers the same distance from Harry. He had no idea how long the chase went on, it could have been hours or it could have been days, but eventually Coop, clearly exhausted, dropped to his knees next to the curtain at one end of the Waiting Room. Harry stopped and knelt next to him, the lights stopped strobing, and the doppelgangers of Leland and Windom Earle were no longer behind them.

“Coop,” Harry said breathlessly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” A woman’s leg, clad in black fishnet stockings and wearing red stiletto heels, emerged from the other side of the curtain next to them, kicked high as if it belonged to one of the Rockettes. The leg waggled seductively for a moment, then the rest of the woman’s body emerged. Harry recognized her from the photo Coop had showed him, it was Caroline, terribly beautiful with her whited-out eyes, dressed in a red minidress, her chest stained with blood. She stood next to Harry and Coop and began dancing, twirling like a ballerina with her arms held high. Coop groaned, sounding like he was in physical pain. As Caroline twirled, her features morphed into those of Maddie, still dressed in the same blood-stained mini-dress, milky white eyes magnified by her glasses. More twirling, and in a transformation that felt like a kick in Harry’s stomach, the doppelganger became Josie. She blew Harry an exaggerated kiss, then twirled into Laura. The doppelganger continued twirling, sequentially morphing into each of the four women, but then with other changes as well. First her features became bloated and wrinkled like those of a body submerged in water. Then she began to decompose, maggots and bits of rotten flesh falling to the floor as blowflies surrounded her head like a halo. She became a body wrapped in plastic like an evening gown. A burned body, with the flesh charred away and bones twisted and melted. All the while, Coop knelt, staring transfixed at the dancing dead girl. Harry scooted around on his knees so that he was directly in front of Coop, trying to block his view of the doppelganger.

“Don’t look at her, Coop. Look at me.” Harry reached out with both hands for Coop’s shoulders, but Coop retreated backward a few feet and moved into a crouched position with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth like he had in Harry’s dream. Harry felt a sense of hopelessness rising. He didn’t know how long he’d been here, but the Laura from the White Lodge had told him that the longer Coop stayed here, the stronger the hold of the Black Lodge would be. Maybe it had been too long already, maybe there was nothing of Coop left to save. Maybe this place had already destroyed him. Harry tried to push those thought away. No matter what had happened to Coop, he had to be in there somewhere. Harry just had to get through to him, but he didn’t know how.

A shadow fell across Harry, and he looked up. A giant bald man, at least twelve feet tall, stood over him, regarding him impassively. This must be the Giant that Coop had told him about, that he had first met the night he was shot. From the way Coop had described him, he sounded like a relatively benign entity, at least compared to the others they had encountered. He had given Coop some cryptic but seemingly well-intentioned advice, after all. Harry figured he had nothing to lose by asking for help, and there was no one else here to ask.

“I don’t know what to do. Can you help me?” Harry pleaded to the Giant.

The Giant gazed at him for a moment, neither malice nor kindness apparent in his face. “The gift,” he said, and vanished.

What gift? Why couldn’t that Giant ever just say a straightforward sentence? But then the memory of the White Lodge came to Harry, distant as if it had been years ago. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the marigold. That was the gift Laura had given him, it must have been for a reason.

Harry crawled the few feet over to where Coop was still rocking on the floor. “Coop. Please. I need you look here.” Harry held the flower out in front of him, but Coop still had his hands over his face and seemed determined to continue ignoring him. Harry could feel the panic and impatience build up inside him, and it exploded outward in a shout. “LOOK!”

Harry was surprised to hear his own word come out sounding normal, although albeit louder than he had intended. It was the first non-backwards speech he had heard uttered, by himself or anyone else, since he arrived in the Black Lodge. All the denizens of the Lodge seemed somewhat taken aback at his outburst. The doppelganger of the murdered women disappeared, mercifully, and the dwarf, who had been contentedly waltzing, gave Harry a dirty look and returned to his couch.

Coop had taken notice as well. He slowly lifted his head and removed his hands from his face, looking directly at Harry for the first time since his arrival. He saw the marigold, held in Harry’s outstretched hands, and realization began to dawn on his face. He looked like he was waking up from a nightmare.

“The Black Lodge can’t produce something blooming and alive like that,” Coop said in a low voice. His speech too, came out sounding normal. He crawled the few feet over to Harry.

“I brought it here,” Harry said, keeping his voice low like he was trying to calm a wounded animal. He held the marigold out toward Coop, holding his breath.

Coop took the marigold and cradled it in his shaking hands. “Harry,” he said in a strangled-sounded voice. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Harry tried to inject a bit of lightness into the conversation. But Coop looked even more despairing than he had before, in fact he looked absolutely devastated.

“But Harry, why did you come here? Why would you do that?”

“Why do you think? I told you, I came to get you out of here.”

Coop shook his head, looking heartbroken, and covered his face with his hands again. “There is no way out.”

“Yes, there is.” Harry grabbed Coop’s wrists and held on to them. “Listen to me. I came here through the White Lodge. We can leave that way too. You just have to come with me.”

Coop raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Harry, if you can leave, you need to do it now. Please, I want you to get out of this place.”

“I will, but you’re coming with me.”

Coop just shook his head again. “I can’t. I’ve tried and tried, but I’m not strong enough.”

“You are strong enough, Coop. I wish I were as strong as you.”

Coop dropped his eyes. “I don’t know where you get these ideas about me, Harry. Your faith in me, however misplaced, means a lot to me. And I am grateful beyond my ability to express that you came here to try to help me. And I am sorry, so sorry, that it was for nothing, but at least this way –” his voice broke off and he took a deep breath before continuing, “at least this way we get to say goodbye.”

“Not gonna happen, Coop.” As demoralizing as that little speech had been, Harry found some comfort in the fact that it was the most like himself he’d heard Coop sound since he entered the Lodge. “I’m not leaving without you.”

They were quiet for a moment, Coop stared down at the flower and started thoughtfully rolling its stem through his fingers. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he said, “This is a marigold.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it came from the White Lodge. It’s your kind of place, Coop, more trees than you’ve ever seen in your life. And Laura was there, the real Laura. She gave me that flower.”

“A marigold.” Coop suddenly fixated on the flower. “Harry, did you know that in Mexico, paths of marigold petals are used to guide visiting sprits out of the underworld on the Day of the Dead?”

“No, didn’t know that.” Harry hadn’t been expecting one of Dale Cooper’s trademark non sequiturs, but it was most welcome.

“And marigolds are also sacred in Hindu culture. Garlands of them are placed on funeral pyres and placed with the ashes into the Ganges to help the soul transition to its next incarnation.”

“Uh-huh.” Well, there were worse fates than being stuck in the Black Lodge with Coop, now that he apparently had some semblance of his Coop back.

“You see, Harry?” Some of the life had returned to Coop’s eyes, brighter than the petals of the marigold. “Paths between worlds. Between the living and the dead. That’s why Laura gave you this flower. To help us travel the path between the lodges.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Harry wasn’t sure that the flower would be all that helpful, but maybe it was enough that Coop believed that it was. “You ready to get out of here?”

“I’ll try, Harry. That’s all I can promise.”

Relief swept through Harry. They were going to get out of here after all, he knew it. “Come on.” He got to his feet and pulled Coop up with him. They strode past the dwarf, who glared at them from his couch, through the curtain that led to the hallway.

In the hallway, Harry led Coop to the part of the curtain where he had originally entered the Lodge. He and Coop and the doppelgangers had run through there multiple times during their long chase, only to end up back in the Waiting Room, but Harry could feel that the destination had changed. A slight breeze stirred the curtain, and he could detect a faint hint of floral scent and birdsong.

“It’s right through here.” Harry parted the curtain and was overjoyed to see the living flower-carpet and tree-walls and leaf-ceiling of the White Lodge. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He turned to Coop.

Coop had stopped stock still, staring through the curtain. But instead of joy, his face showed only despair. “I don’t see anything, Harry.”

“But it’s right here, Coop.” Harry gestured helplessly through the curtain. They were so close, dammit, he just had to make Coop see …

“Not for me.” Coop smiled sadly.

Harry cast his mind back to what Major Briggs had said, what Laura had said, about his own experience of entering the White Lodge. “You just have to let go of fear and hold on to love.” He cringed at how lame those words sounded.

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid.” Coop still had that sad smile on his face, like he was waiting for Harry to catch up, to give up and admit the futility of the task, and it made Harry so angry that he was tempted to just grab Coop and pull him into the curtain. But he heard Laura’s voice, he cannot follow you out of the Black Lodge unless he can find an exit. If he tried to pull Coop through on his own, in all likelihood he would go through to the White Lodge while Coop was trapped back in the Waiting Room, and he couldn’t take the risk of their being separated, they might never find each other again.

Behind Coop, the curtain that they had come through from the Waiting Room moved, and the Laura doppelganger came through. She walked slowly up to Coop and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his shoulder as if they were lovers. Coop made no move to shake her off, instead just closing his eyes. Repulsed, Harry shoved her away from Coop. “Leave him alone!”

The doppelganger laughed at him, then reached out and took Coop’s right hand, in which he still clutched the marigold, between hers. She brought the flower up to her face and breathed deeply as if inhaling its fragrance. As she did, the flower’s bright orange petals turned black and felt to the floor, leaving the withered stem in Coop’s hand. “You see, Harry?” Coop said quietly. “There’s no way out for me.”

And Harry did see. How could he tell Coop to let go of fear and hold on to love? Coop had been in this place long enough, seen god only knew how many horrors, that it was absurd to expect him to be able to put his fear aside. And love? Harry didn’t even know if Coop had ever experienced love uncomplicated by pain. He had loved Caroline, but she had died and he blamed himself, and he loved Annie, but he also felt guilt for what had happened to her. Maybe he had experienced so much fear, so much pain, that there was no exit, that the path to the White Lodge was forever closed off to him.

Well, Plan B it was. Harry reached out and took Coop’s left hand, the one the doppelganger wasn’t holding. “Okay, Coop. Wherever you go, I go. We’ll stay.”

Something seemed to break in Coop at those words. He made a sudden movement, shoving the Laura doppelganger away from him. Before Harry had time to react, Coop wheeled around to face him, wrenched his hand out of Harry’s, and shoved him hard with both hands in the center of Harry’s chest. Caught off guard, Harry lost his balance and began falling backwards, through the curtain that led to the White Lodge. “I’m sorry,” he heard Coop say, but it sounded muffled, as if he were underwater, and the red hallway of the Black Lodge began to blur as the floral scents and birdsong of the White Lodge became stronger.

Damn you, Coop. While in a nearly horizontal position, flailing around, Harry managed to grab the velvet curtain with one hand. It held his weight, allowing him to arrest his fall through the portal to the White Lodge. In a single movement, he pulled on the curtain as hard as he could to get back into a standing position and flung his weight back towards the Black Lodge. It worked; Harry crashed out of the tangle of curtains and fell against Coop, back in the hallway of the Black Lodge. The Laura doppelganger had disappeared, so it was just the two of them.

“What the hell was that, Coop?” Harry demanded, furious. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not leaving without you.”

Coop looked stunned; apparently he hadn’t anticipated Harry clawing his way back like that. Harry could see the moment when the realization fully hit Coop that Harry really meant it, that he wasn’t going to leave without Coop. Coop’s expression softened. “I guess we’ll have to leave together, then,” he said.

Harry didn’t have time to react to that before Coop made another abrupt move. This time it was a sort of leap that ended with a full-body tackle of Harry, who fell backwards against the curtain again, now with Coop on top of him. As they fell, Harry kept a tight grip on Coop’s arms, the hallway of the Red Lodge once again fading away. Coop landed hard on top of him, as Harry landed hard on the soft grass of the White Lodge. They lay there for a moment, breathing hard, Harry gazing at the layers of greenery backlit by the soft sunlight above Coop’s head, Coop reaching out and trailing his hand across the petals of the flowers growing beneath them.

“Is this …” Coop asked.

“The White Lodge.” Harry grinned. Coop rolled off of him, and they both sat up. Coop gazed at the trees that were growing around and above them, a look of wonder on his face, and Harry thought he must be wearing the same expression as he gazed at Coop. “See, Coop? I knew you could do it.” The suddenness of their escape was like a rush to his head, making him feel almost giddy with relief. “How did you do it, anyway?”

“Love is the path to the White Lodge, Sheriff.” The voice came from Laura, who appeared and smiled down at them. “You love Dale so much that you would have stayed in the Black Lodge with him, and he loves you so much that he wouldn’t let you.”

“Laura.” Coop rose to his feet, pulling Harry up with him. He stared transfixed at the girl whose corpse he had examined, whom he had seen in photos and heard on voice recordings, who had brought him to Twin Peaks in the first place.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Dale,” Laura said, and kissed Coop on the cheek. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for my family.”

“Thank you for your help,” Harry said to her. She kissed him too.

“You both still have a lot of work to do,” she said.

The relief and joy that had been coursing through Harry was tempered with the remembrance that Bob was still out there in the real world, doing god knows what while wearing Coop’s face. He nodded. “You’re right. How do we get back outside?”

“It’s simple. Through the curtain.” She gestured behind them, where the red curtain had reappeared, swaying in the breeze.

“Okay. Coop, you ready?” Harry turned toward the curtain, and Coop moved to follow.

Laura stopped them with a hand on each of their shoulders. “I said it was simple. I didn’t say it was easy.” They turned back to face her. “The Black Lodge demands a sacrifice,” she said, running her hand tenderly down the side of Harry’s neck, over the bandage from his wound.

“NO!” Coop said suddenly, staring at Harry with horror. Harry felt something warm on his chest and reached up to where Laura had just touched him. Although he still felt no pain, the slash across his neck had reopened, the stitches gone, bleeding as freely as it had just after Bob had cut him.

Laura turned to Coop and placed her hand on his abdomen; when she let go, a red stain blossomed across his white shirt. Harry had a sudden horrible flashback of seeing Coop lying on the floor of Room 315 of the Great Northern after being shot. “No one leaves the Black Lodge unwounded,” Laura said, a bit sadly.

Harry and Coop stared at each other. It just wasn’t fair. What was the point of all they had struggled through, all they had overcome, if they were just going to bleed to death as soon as they returned to the outside world? Seeming to sense the thought, Laura said reassuringly, “You survived these wounds first time, and they will not be fatal this time. The power of the White Lodge will protect you both. I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced, but it wasn’t like they had a choice. He remembered the one-armed man. At least they didn’t have to cut off any limbs.

“You need to go now,” Laura continued. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

She gave them a gentle shove, and together they walked over to the shimmering curtain. They paused in front of it, and Harry reached out to take Coop’s hand. Exchanging one last look, they pushed their way through the curtain.

This trip through the curtain was accompanied by the loss of the painlessness that had prevailed in the Lodge. The agony Harry had experienced when the shard of glass cut his neck returned with a vengeance. He gasped and felt Coop’s hand tighten its hold on his. A moment later, he was staring straight up at sycamore branches, illuminated not by the filtered sunlight of the White Lodge but by the harsh moonlight. An owl hooted. He and Coop were lying on their backs next to the pool of burnt motor oil in Glastonbury Grove, hands still tightly gripped together.

Harry rolled over onto his side so that he was facing Coop. He tried to say Coop’s name, but all that came out was a mouthful of blood and an awful rasping sound. “Harry,” he heard Coop say. Coop had also rolled onto his side to face him; his panicked-looking face was white in the moonlight. He reached his free hand over to place upon the wound on Harry’s neck, apparently trying to slow the bleeding. Harry used his free hand to apply as much pressure as he could to Coop’s gunshot wound just as he had that night when he had held a rolled-up hotel towel against his friend’s abdomen while they waited for the ambulance to arrive at the Great Northern. Their blood seeped through the leaf litter underneath them to soak the soil below.

Amongst the fading nighttime forest sounds, Harry could hear the approach of running feet and shouted voices, saw the arc from a flashlight sweep through the trees. He felt the solidity of Coop’s hand in his own, the warmth of Coop’s blood running through his fingers, as everything else dissolved away.

Chapter Text

Déjà vu. Harry knew before opening his eyes that he was back in a hospital bed; he could feel the stitches and bandages on his neck, the IV line in his hand, could smell the aroma of antiseptic. But this time there was something different, a commotion of some sort, that was what had woken him. He dragged his eyes open, seeing the familiar stained ceiling above him.

“Hold him down!” Harry recognized the voice, it was Doc Hayward. “Nurse, I told you to keep that curtain open.”

“Sorry, doctor,” a woman’s voice said, and the privacy curtain to Harry’s left, which had been closed, suddenly slid open.

“Harry!” That was definitely a voice Harry recognized. It was Coop, and he sounded terrified and panicked and in pain. Harry struggled to sit up and was immediately hit by a wave of dizziness.

“Coop?” he rasped out. His vision was swimming and everything was a blur.

“Nurse, help the Sheriff lie back down,” Dr. Hayward snapped.

The nurse who had opened the current gently pushed against Harry’s shoulders, which was enough to make his head fall back against the pillow. He turned his head to the left, the direction he had heard Coop’s voice come from, and after a moment was able to see clearly again. Coop was in the next bed over, and he appeared to be fighting to get up while Doc Hayward and Hawk held him down. “Coop,” Harry said again, managing a bit more volume this time. “Take her easy.”

All at once, Coop stopped struggling and looked across, seeing Harry for the first time. “Harry?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. You?” With the return of the pain in his throat, it looked like he was back to short sentences only.

Coop seemed to relax at the sound and sight of him, lying back down in the bed, and Doc Hayward and Hawk backed off. “I’m fine. I woke up and didn’t know where you were…”

“My apologies,” Doc Hayward broke in. “Hawk recommended that we keep you two in sight of each other, but apparently some of my staff didn’t get the memo.” The nurse, still standing by Harry’s bed, looked chastened. “The good news is I expect you both to make a full recovery,” the doctor continued. “I don’t understand how both of your wounds reopened, with all the prior healing and stitches undone, but then there’s been a lot I don’t understand happening lately. I stitched you both back up again, hopefully it will stick this time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.” He left, followed a moment later by the nurse.

Hawk leaned up against the partition separating the two beds. At Harry’s unasked question, he said, “You two both appeared in Glastonbury Grove last night around midnight. Today is Thursday, by the way. About 4 in the afternoon.” Harry had entered the Lodge Tuesday night, so that meant he had spent about 30 hours there. It simultaneously felt like it had been a much shorter and a much longer time. Coop had been there two days longer; Harry wondered how long it felt it had been to him.

“Any news about –” Harry stopped, glancing over at Coop, who was lying in his bed staring straight up at the ceiling. He seemed to have tuned out everything since finding out that Harry was okay. But Harry really didn’t want to discuss Bob in front of him right now.

Luckily, Hawk got what he was asking. “No. Still nothing.”

What was Bob waiting for? The thought made Harry nervous. It was almost like he was waiting for Coop to come back before he did anything, like he wanted Coop to be around for whatever he was planning. But Harry decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just be grateful that Bob hadn’t murdered anyone in his absence.

“Hawk. Thanks for getting us out of there.” Harry was more grateful than he could say to Hawk and Andy, for waiting for them and getting them to the hospital before they bled to death. As always, Hawk didn’t seem to need the words, just nodded. Harry saw that he looked tired, and added, “You should go home, get some rest.” After clapping both Harry and Coop on the shoulder, Hawk left.

Once they were alone, Harry looked across at Coop, who was still staring at the ceiling as if it held all the world’s secrets. “Coop?” Harry was more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life, despite apparently having just slept for sixteen hours straight, and every word he spoke burned against his throat. But he felt a desperate need to hear Coop’s voice, here in the real world, and be reassured that this was his Coop, not a doppelganger and not some hollowed-out shell with his soul left behind in the Lodge.

Coop didn’t answer, but Harry could see that he was shaking. The reality of where he had been and what had happened seemed to be hitting him. “Coop, I need you to talk to me.”

“Bob escaped from the Black Lodge.” Coop’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. But we’ll find him.”

“He almost killed you.” Those words came out like a sob.

“I’m fine, Coop. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Coop shook his head. “He’s in my doppelganger. That’s how he got to you, isn’t it? You thought it was me you were bringing back from Glastonbury Grove, but it was him, and that’s how he got to you.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Coop.” He wanted to reassure Coop, wanted him to stop feeling guilty about what Bob had done while wearing Coop’s face, but most of all he really, really wanted to forget the image of Bob reflected in the mirror, Coop’s face smiling Bob’s evil smile.

Lost in these thoughts he didn’t want to think, Harry was struck with mind-numbing panic a moment later, at Coop’s simple question from the next bed, “How’s Annie?”

How’s Annie? How’s Annie? How’s Annie? The doppelganger’s question echoed through Harry’s head, as the full force of the memory of his confrontation with Bob swept over him like a roaring ocean wave. He had to get out, he couldn’t breathe, he jumped out of the bed and backed across the room, looking for a way out –

“Harry?” Coop was sitting up now, open concern on his face. Harry stopped. The warmth of Coop’s voice, of his eyes, too genuine for Bob to be able to replicate, grounded him, brought him back to reality. This was his Coop, he had nothing to be afraid of.

Harry sat back down on the bed, taking deep breaths to slow his pounding heartbeat. “Annie’s okay,” he said, as calmly as he could, as if nothing had just happened. “She wasn’t hurt too bad physically, but she had some, um, emotional trauma. Norma is taking her to the hospital in Spokane. Or, wait, sorry, I guess that was yesterday. But if you want to see her, or talk to her –”

“It’s probably for the best if I don’t,” Coop interrupted. “Harry, what happened just now?”

Harry sighed. “Nothing, Coop. It was just what you said, How’s Annie, that was what Bob said right before…”

“Before he cut your throat using my doppelganger,” Coop finished flatly.

“Yeah. Sorry, Coop, I didn’t mean to react like that, it just caught me off guard.”

“Harry.” Coop was shaking his head firmly. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He seemed to hesitate before plunging on. “If it would be easier for you to not – to not have me around, I understand –”

“No.” Harry cut him off. Being separated from Coop now was an unbearable idea, especially with Bob still out there. “I’m definitely not letting you out of my sight this time, Coop.”

Coop looked like he was going to respond, but they were interrupted with the arrival of an orderly bringing in their dinners. Harry was hungry, until the orderly set the plate down on the fold-out tray attached to his bed. The dinner consisted of unrecognizable sludges in a rainbow of different hues, each of them looking and smelling like something that had been regurgitated. Hungry enough to give it a try anyway, Harry managed a few bites of the tan-colored sludge, the only point in its favor being that it  looked slightly less objectionable than the green sludge next to it, before putting his fork down and pushing the tray away. He’d heard that the hospital food was bad, but good lord, this was so foul that he wondered if it had originated in the Black Lodge. He looked over at Coop, who hadn’t touched his food.

It had been, what, four days since Coop had any food? “Gotta eat something, Coop.” But Coop shook his head and laid back down. Despite his concern, Harry didn’t have the heart to push it. The poor guy had been through enough without having to face the hospital dinner as well. Harry would just have to make sure Hawk or Andy brought some food from the Double R tomorrow.

Harry wanted to continue talking with Coop, assessing his state of mind, but he was so tired. He laid back down in bed too, breathing in the lingering stench of the uneaten dinner and listening to the soft mundane sounds of the hospital around him. Before long, he drifted off to sleep.

Harry awoke to the sound of crying. Not loud wailing, but the kind of hushed, held-in catching of the breath of someone trying not to cry but not able to help it. Opening his eyes, he noted it was the middle of the night, judging from the darkness and the quiet of the ward. In the glow of the ambient light spilling through the privacy curtains that surrounded their beds, Harry saw that Coop was lying on his side, facing away from Harry, curled up in a ball, his back and shoulders heaving with each quiet sob.

“Coop?” He had never seen Coop cry before, not even in the Lodge.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Harry. Go back to sleep.” Yeah, right. Harry got up out of bed, swaying for a second at the headrush caused by the change in altitude, and wrangled his IV pole with him across to Coop’s bed. He sat down next to Coop and put his hand on his back. He could feel each shuddering breath beneath his fingertips. Not knowing what else to do, and also feeling slightly dizzy, he laid down next to Coop, his hand tracing out soothing circles on Coop’s back.

After a moment, Coop rolled over onto his other side so that he was facing Harry, and he put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and his forehead against Harry’s chest. Harry moved his arm up to cradle the back of Coop’s head. He ran his fingers through Coop’s hair, which was sticking up at the most ridiculous angles. The only other time they had embraced like this was when Harry had been crying, after Josie died, and Coop had comforted him. He wished he could think of something to say that would make Coop feel better, but all he could do was hold on and listen to the soft sobs.

After a while, Coop spoke again. “Harry, what you did for me was – I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe anyone would do something like that for me.”

“Of course,” Harry said. Of course, he would do anything for Coop, didn’t he know that?

“But I’m not worth it.”

“Yes, you are. I told you you’re the best lawman I’ve ever known, but you’re also the best man I’ve ever known. You’re worth it.” It still hurt to speak, but he had to make Coop understand.

Coop sighed. “Harry, your loyalty is one of your best qualities, but sometimes it blinds you to people’s faults.”

Harry thought of Josie, how he hadn’t been willing to accept that she was deceiving him or question her motives, how he had trusted her so completely because he had loved her so much, it had never even occurred to him that she would hurt him. But this was different. Coop hadn’t lied to him or manipulated him or hurt him, he had just been a victim himself through no fault of his own. Maybe Harry was blind, but he really could see no fault in Coop. He was definitely the smartest person Harry had ever known, and the bravest, and the kindest. Also the weirdest (okay, maybe not quite as weird as the Log Lady), but Harry didn’t consider that a fault, it was just part of what made him Coop. It bothered him that Coop was beating himself up over what happened, but he didn’t know what else to say to change his mind, to make Coop see himself the way Harry saw him.

Suddenly Harry remembered something Laura had told him when he first entered the White Lodge. “Coop, the Black Lodge didn’t get you because there was something wrong with you. Laura told me it wasn’t any failing on your part.”

“There were so many failings on my part, Harry. I was arrogant. I thought that, because of my mental discipline, I would be able to show perfect courage, that I would have no problem going in and rescuing Annie and bringing her back. I even –” Coop laughed bitterly. “I even thought it was exciting, a chance to glimpse another plane of existence, to confront the kind of mystery I’ve been obsessed with my entire life. And in the end, I was weak. I gave in to the fear.”

“No, none of that is true. It was just that the evil of the Black Lodge was so strong. No one could have overcome it.”

“You did.”

“Only because – well, because I was doing it for you,” Harry muttered self-consciously. “That’s what Laura said, that the only reason I was able to enter the White Lodge is because I went in with the intention to stay in the Black Lodge so that you wouldn’t be alone there.”

“Harry,” Coop said fondly. “You have no idea how amazing you are, do you? I think you must be a bodhisattva.”

“A what?” Harry was growing sleepy, and he had a feeling he was about to hear one of Coop’s educational lectures, which would be a nice thing to drift off to.

“In Mahayana Buddhism, bodhisattvas are enlightened ones who, instead of ending their cycle of suffering in nirvana, choose to help other sentient beings attain enlightenment. That’s exactly what you’ve done for me, Harry. You pulled me out of my suffering into the light.”

Chapter Text

Harry awoke to the sound of the privacy curtain being drawn back on his rungs and a woman’s voice uttering a small “Oh!” of surprise. He opened his eyes and saw Coop waking up next to him, still with his head tucked against Harry’s chest and their arms around each other. Oh yeah. He had fallen asleep in Coop’s bed last night. He and Coop disentangled their limbs and IV lines, and Harry rolled over onto his back.

“Sheriff, do you need any help getting back to your bed?” asked the nurse who had awoken him.

“No, I’m fine here for now, thanks.” Harry aimed for casual. He was damned if he was going to scurry away in embarrassment like the teenagers he sometimes caught making out in their cars up at Lookout Point.

“If you’re sure.” The nurse swapped out some his and Coop’s IV bags, checked their vital signs, and scribbled some notes on their charts, then left, glancing curiously over her shoulder at them as she went. Well, that should give everyone something to talk about. Harry couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You okay, Coop?” Harry asked. His own throat seemed to be doing better; at any rate, speaking was less painful.

“Yes.” Coop’s hair was really out of control now, with spikes sticking up in at least three different directions. It was a wonder to behold. “Harry, about last night – thank you for being there for me.”

“You did the same for me, Coop.”

An orderly pushing a cart stuck his head in the room, asking “You fellas hungry? I’ve got your breakfast here –”

Harry and Coop groaned in unison. Harry didn’t think he could face another hospital meal. But their salvation came in the form of Hawk and Andy, who chose that moment to appear carrying take-out containers and coffee cups. “Thanks, we already got their breakfast here,” Hawk told the orderly, who nodded understandingly and pushed his cart off to his next victims.

“You two are the best deputies a sheriff could ask for,” Harry told them. He moved back to his bed so he and Coop could use their bedside tray tables (Hawk and Andy had seemed to think nothing of finding him in Coop’s bed). He eagerly dug in to the scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and biscuit with gravy from the Double R. Coop, meanwhile, was drinking coffee like a man rescued from the desert drinks water. “Coop, you need something from at least one of the four food groups. Coffee isn’t one of them.”

“It is for me,” Coop said, but he did pick up a fork and start eating his plate special with a reasonable level of gusto. As he sipped from his second coffee (Harry had taken pity on him and given him the rest of his own half-full cup), he regarded Andy with his FBI investigational stare. “Andy, have you been crying?”

With alarm, Harry saw that Coop was right. Andy’s eyes were red and swollen. Immediately suspicious, Harry demanded, “What happened?”

“We were going to wait until you were done with breakfast to tell you,” Hawk said, cuffing Andy lightly across the back of the head.

“Who was it?” If Andy had been crying, that probably meant someone was dead.

“Leo Johnson.”

Huh. That wasn’t someone Harry had expected Bob to target. Maybe his death had nothing to do with Bob at all. The last Harry knew, Leo had been hiding out in the woods, possibly with Windom Earle, but the search for him had understandably taken a backseat to everything else that had transpired in the last few days. Harry shrugged and took another bite. He was sorry Leo was dead, but not that sorry, remembering the bruises he had left all over Shelly’s face. “Where did you find him?”

“Oh, he wasn’t hard to find.” Hawk seemed to find some dark humor in the question, while Andy appeared to be veering back to the verge of tears.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you guys done eating?”

Harry and Coop looked at each other and pushed their trays away. Hawk handed Harry a Polaroid photo. It showed the front steps to the sheriff’s department. On the top step was Leo Johnson’s head, dead eyes wide with terror, mouth frozen in a pained grimace, flesh discolored with incipient decay. There was no sign of the rest of his body in the photo.

“Wow,” Harry said, and handed the photo back to Hawk so he could show it to Coop. “Did you find his body, or was it just the head?”

“Just the head. Lucy found it this morning when she was opening up. Dropped two dozen donuts all over the sidewalk.” Damn, Harry was sorry Lucy was the one who’d made the grisly discovery.

“Hawk, where is the head now?” Coop asked from the other bed, where he was staring intently at the Polaroid.

“Downstairs, in the morgue.”

“I’m going to need to see it.”

“Really, Coop?” Harry found it reassuring to see Coop back in investigative mode, but at the same time he didn’t really want Coop dealing with severed heads the day after he got out of the Black Lodge.

“Yes, Harry. This is important. We know, based on the letter I received in Leo’s handwriting, that Leo was with Windom Earle right before the Miss Twin Peaks pageant, and that means he was connected in some way to the opening of the Black Lodge. If we can figure out what happened to Leo, it may provide some clue of Bob’s location and intentions. Where are my clothes?” He was already getting out of bed.

“Wait, Coop. You’re not going anywhere until Doc Hayward gives you a clean bill of health.”

“I’m feeling much better, Harry. Last time I was shot, I went back to work immediately.”

“Yes, and that was a dumb decision then, and it’s even dumber now because this is your second gunshot wound this month and you’ve just spent four days with no food or sleep being mentally tortured in a place of unspeakable evil.” By the time he was finished talking, he was almost shouting, so he forced some calm into his voice and said, “Just wait and see what Doc Hayward says.”

Doc Hayward chose that moment to stick his head through the privacy curtain. “Says about what?”

“Agent Cooper wants to return to work.”

“Well,” Doc Hayward said, picking up Coop’s chart and flipping through it. “I certainly don’t recommend it, but your vital signs are stable, no signs of infection, so major red flags as long as you take it easy. And next time you want to kill a wood tick, I recommend using tweezers instead.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Apparently, Coop was willing to read that as a clean bill of health. Finding his clothes in a bag on the bedside table, he began sorting through them.

“Okay, Coop. You win.” Harry got out of bed and began looking for his own clothes.

“Harry! What are you doing?”

“Looking for my clothes. You said we were leaving.”

“I said I was leaving, Harry. You need to stay, you just had your throat slashed.”

“No one likes a hypocrite, Coop.”

“Harry, please.” Coop looked distressed. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

“I’m in at least as good a condition as you are. Aren’t I, Doc?”

“Well,” said Doc Hayward, who was flipping through his chart now. “Neither of you are exactly the picture of perfect health but, again, Harry, I don’t have any major concerns as long as you limit your physical activity.”

“Thanks, Doc. We’ll head straight down to the morgue to examine what’s left of Leo Johnson.” Next Harry addressed Andy. “Andy, can you head over to the Great Northern and get all of Coop’s stuff out of Room 315? Check him out of the hotel too.” Harry figured Andy needed a task that did not involve visiting the morgue.

“Harry, I still need somewhere to stay,” Coop objected.

“You can stay with me.” Harry thought of his house, isolated in the woods at the edge of town, and suddenly didn’t like the idea of Coop being there at night with Bob still on the loose. But he liked the idea of either him or Coop ever setting foot in Room 315 again even less. “Or maybe we can just crash at the station, we’ll figure it out.”

Coop looked like he was about to argue, but Doc Hayward put a hand on his shoulder and said, “He’s right, Agent Cooper. You really don’t want to go back to that room.” Coop’s eyes flitted to the bandage on Harry’s neck, and he swallowed and nodded.

The decision made, Andy turned to leave, and Harry called, “Hey, Andy. Also stop and get a couple dozen donuts to bring to the station.” If Lucy had dropped some this morning, they would need to replenish their supplies. “Make sure at least half a dozen of them are the jelly-filled ones.” Those were Coop’s favorite. “Oh, and also make sure we have plenty of coffee.”

Coop grinned at him; it was the first real smile Harry had seen on Coop since before the Lodge, and it made him feel like a ten-pound wait had been lifted from his chest. “I’ve said it before, but you’re all right, Harry.”

Their check-out from the hospital was accomplished swiftly. Doc Hayward admonished them to get plenty of rest and food and fluids and to change their bandages twice a day and monitor for signs of infection and to try to avoid getting any more life-threatening injuries if at all possible. A nurse detached them from their IVs. As they were getting dressed, Harry heard Coop grunt in pain and looked over to see him struggling to get his arm through his shirt sleeve, clutching his newly rebroken ribs. Harry went over to help him, holding out the shirt sleeve and gently manipulating Coop’s arm into it. Then he put Coop’s shoes on for him so Coop wouldn’t have to bend down to do it himself. As he maneuvered Coop’s foot into the shoe, he got an unpleasant flashback of helping the doppelganger Coop into his pajamas. The flashback wasn’t nearly as intense as the one that had been triggered by Coop asking about Annie the day before, but it apparently still showed on his face, because Coop immediately asked if he was okay.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, Harry?” Coop regarded him with open worry on his face. He had put on his jacket and tie and now looked almost normal, except his hair was still as spiky as some exotic form of desert vegetation.  “I don’t want you getting hurt again. Maybe you should stay here.”

“I told you, Coop. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

They walked down to the morgue with Dr. Hayward and Hawk. When they entered, Harry’s attention was immediately drawn to a small cooler sitting on the slab in the middle of the room. “Is that …” Harry gestured at the cooler.

“Yeah, we put the head in there for transport,” Hawk said. “I had it at the station because I forgot to bring it home after I went fishing last week. Caught a five-pound rainbow trout.”

“Nice.”

They approached the cooler, Doc Hayward and Coop both donning latex gloves. The doctor opened the cooler, and Leo Johnson’s head stared up at him from a pile of pink-tinged partially melted ice. The smell of decomposition was like a physical assault, and Harry had to choke down a gag.

“Doctor, may I?” Coop was already reaching into the cooler, apparently not bothered by the smell.

“Be my guest,” said Doc Hayward, who was holding one of his gloved hands over his nose.

Coop gingerly lifted the head out of the cooler and placed it on the metal slab. Glancing back into the cooler, he frowned and pulled something else out. “Was this found with the head?” he asked, holding the object up. It was a Big Sky beer bottle cap.

“No, sorry, that was just left in the cooler from the fishing trip,” Hawk said. The only sign that the smell was getting to him was that he was standing a few feet back from the slab.

Coop nodded and put down the bottle cap, and then turned his attention to the head. He took a small flashlight from Doc Hayward and shined it all around the head, into the wide-open eyes, up the nose, in the ears, all the while poking in the various orifices with a pair of tweezers.

“What are you looking for, Sherlock?” Harry asked when he couldn’t stand watching it anymore. Coop currently had the tweezers up Leo’s nose, and was tugging on something that seemed to be stuck inside.

“There is plenty that this head can tell us, Harry. For one thing, Bob didn’t kill Leo Johnson. As you have no doubt noticed, this head is in the initial stages of putrefaction.” Coop succeeded in freeing the nose-embedded object, which turned out to be a wriggling maggot.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Harry said dryly. “So that means the time of death doesn’t match. Bob has been out for two days, and I’m guessing that level of decomposition takes longer than that.”

“Exactly, Harry.” Coop gestured with the tweezers, with the maggot writhing in them. “The evidence indicates that Leo has been dead for about four days.” He dropped the maggot into the garbage can underneath the slab and continued poking at the head thoughtfully. “We know Leo was working with Windom Earle, either voluntarily or through coercion. The last note we received in Leo’s handwriting arrived on Sunday. We also know that Earle went into the Lodge immediately after the Miss Twin Peaks pageant. My guess would be that Earle killed Leo, probably shortly before he left for the pageant.” Coop had opened Leo’s mouth and was poking around inside.

“Why did he kill him if they were working together?”

“Possibly just to tie up loose ends when he didn’t need him anymore, or possibly because Leo objected to Earle’s plan to open the Lodge. Shelly was one of the contestants in the pageant, after all, so she was in danger.” Harry supposed that made sense; even though he had been an abusive bastard of a husband, Leo did love Shelly in his destructive and selfish way. Coop pulled out something that had been stuck between Leo’s teeth.

“What’s that?”

“Some sort of fiber.” Coop held a magnifying glass up to his find. “Maybe from a rope.” He carefully placed the fiber into a small plastic evidence bag and went back into Leo’s mouth with the tweezers, lifting Leo’s tongue. “Now here’s something.” He pulled something out from under the tongue. Harry leaned closer to see. It was a small piece of paper, with the word SAW scribbled on it.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure,” Coop replied. “But we know Bob likes to leave messages in the bodies of his victims.” He put the note into an evidence bag as well and proceeded to look closely at the stump of the neck. “The head appears to have been severed with a serrated blade. Possibly a chainsaw.”

“Is that what the note is talking about?”

“Maybe,” Coop said, but he seemed doubtful.

“So Windom Earle killed Leo before he left for the pageant, and then sometime since Bob was released he came across the body and cut off the head with a chainsaw so he could, what? Stick a message in its mouth and leave it at the station for us to find?”

“I think that’s about the size of it, Harry.”

“So this doesn’t help us find Bob.”

“Not yet, no.”

Harry, frustrated, took a closer look at the head than he had cared to up to this point, and thought he saw something weird. “What are those red streaks on his face? You can barely see them, under the skin discoloration, but they’ve all over.”

Coop leaned in closer with his magnifying glass and flashlight. “Well spotted, Harry,” he said, sounding impressed. “I believe those are bites from sort of arachnid.”

“A spider?”

“Yes. I’m not sure what kind, it’s been some time since I’ve studied photos of different types of envenomation.” Coop really was one of the weirdest people Harry had ever met. “But if memory serves, they resemble bites from a tarantula. I don’t believe those are native to those parts, are they?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Interesting. Well, I should give Albert a call to see if I get him to come back out here. He should be able to perform a more thorough examination of the head to provide us with definitive information about the time of death and the nature of the venom.”

“Now why do people only call me when there’s a severed head involved?” came a familiar voice from behind them. They turned, and Albert himself was standing in the door of the morgue, looking supremely annoyed as ever.

“Albert!” said Coop. “What are you doing here?” He seemed a lot happier to see Albert than Harry felt.

“You’ve spent so much time among these country bumpkins that their idiocy is rubbing off on you, Coop. You may recall that the FBI likes to keep track of its agents, what they’re up to, whether or not they’ve been mortally wounded or dragged off to another dimension, stuff like that. So when you didn’t check in or return any calls from the office for the better part of a week, Gordon sent me here to find out if you were dead.”

“Can we continue this conversation outside?” Harry requested. The smell, which had been bad enough, was unbearable now that he also had Albert to deal with. His gag reflex could only handle so much at a time.

“What’s the matter, sheriff? Would you prefer to solve crimes while skipping around a field of daisies?” But Albert did step out into the hallway, and Harry and Hawk joined him. Coop and Doc Hayward lingered in the morgue for a moment to discard their gloves and wash their hands.

While they waited, Harry leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and glared at Albert. “Look,” he said, “I don’t know how much you know about what happened this week, but Coop has had a really rough time –“

Albert cut him off. “I know the broad outlines of the situation, I ran into your deputy in the parking lot, what’s his name? The one who I assume needs help tying his shoes every day?”

“Deputy Brennan,” Harry said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, Deputy Brennan,” Albert said the name mockingly, “filled me in. What I don’t understand is why you, even with your limitations when it comes to intellectual activity, did not think to call the FBI when our agent disappeared and then reappeared with a gunshot wound – the second he has had since arriving in this forested hell, by the way – and when there is apparently a double of him possessed by a malevolent entity running around – and not only did you not call, your office didn’t return our calls –”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Harry said. He decided to be magnanimous, given that he could see that underneath the reflexive hostility, Albert had been really worried about Coop. Harry figured that Coop was probably the closest thing Albert had to a friend. God knows no one other than Coop would put up with Albert for one second. “We should have called. We were a bit distracted.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that it doesn’t take much to distract your little Mickey Mouse operation, but I refuse to accept that as an excuse. You know, I have seen my share of unqualified small-town sheriffs in all kinds of benighted localities across this country, and yet you and your clown posse are, without a doubt, the most comically inept of them all.” Without even meaning to, Harry pushed himself off the wall so he was standing up straight and came right up to Albert to stare him in the eye threateningly. He couldn’t help it, Albert just had that effect on him. Hawk was also glaring menacingly, and it took a lot to get Hawk to lose his cool. “Oh yes, and now the brute comes out again,” Albert went on, jeeringly. “Don’t worry, I brought a stack of complaint forms to file against you once you inevitably let your inner Neanderthal out and hit me, and this time the charges will stick –”

“Albert.” Coop’s voice came from the door of the morgue, where he had been standing and listening to who knows how much of the conversation. Harry had never heard Coop’s voice like that, low and tight with barely contained anger. “If you say another word against Harry, now or at any point in the future, you will need to save those complaint forms for me, because I swear I will hit you myself.”

Albert seemed taken aback, apparently never having witnessed Coop’s righteous anger before either. He looked back and forth between Coop and Harry. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “I’ll get to work on that autopsy of the head. I’ll come by the station when I’m done. In the meantime, Gordon wants you to call him with a full report.” He disappeared into the morgue with Doc Hayward.

“Harry, Hawk, I apologize for Albert’s behavior,” Coop said to them.

“It was worth it to see someone shut him up for once,” Hawk said, and Harry concurred.

Chapter Text

Hawk drove them to the Great Northern, where Harry’s truck was still parked in the lot. Harry and Coop transferred over to the truck to drive to the station. Coop was uncharacteristically quiet during the ride, which reminded Harry uncomfortably of the not-Coop he had driven with across town. Coop seemed to notice Harry’s frequent sideways glances, asking, “Is everything all right, Harry?”

“Just making sure you’re all right.”

“Thank you for your concern, Harry, but I am as well as can be expected given the circumstances.”

Andy was at the station when they arrived, and he had deposited Coop’s luggage in Harry’s office. Coop immediately rummaged through his suitcase with a sense of urgency, producing a comb and a container of hair gel. He excused himself, disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, and emerged with his hair wrangled into submission. Harry smiled. Now that his hair was slicked back as usual, Coop looked a like himself again.

“Looking good, Coop.”

“Thanks, Harry. May I use your phone for a minute? I really should update Gordon on the situation.”

Harry left his office to give Coop some privacy, but there was, of course, little point because he could hear Gordon’s questions all the way from the conference room across the hall, where Lucy was busy making her neat little stacks of donuts, newly acquired from Andy. Hawk and Andy wandered in a moment later and descended upon the coffee and donuts as they all listened unabashedly to Gordon’s side of the conversation, Coop’s more modulated responses inaudible. Harry suddenly remembered the slice of cherry pie he had stashed in the mini-fridge and retrieved it from its hiding place behind the mayo jar, thankful that no one had pilfered it.

After about ten minutes, Coop entered the conference room. “How’d it go?” Hawk asked casually, as if they hadn’t all heard.

“Fine. Gordon was initially displeased about not being kept updated on the situation, but he came to accept that events were simply moving too quickly. Is that coffee fresh?”

“Just made.” Harry poured him a cup and slid it to him along with the pie slice. Coop’s eyes lit up.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Anytime. So now what?”

“Is there by any chance a large-format map of Twin Peaks and the surrounding region available?”

“I think there’s one in the storage room,” Lucy said. “I saw it there when I was putting away the Christmas decorations a couple of months ago. I remember because it fell over when I was putting the box on the shelf. It was all rolled up and it unrolled when it fell over, so that’s how I saw what it was. The map, I mean, not the box.”

“Wonderful, Lucy,” Coop said when it seemed she was finished. “Would you mind getting it for me, please?”

“You mean the map, right? Not the box of Christmas decorations?”

“Yes, the map.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come help you, Lucy.” Andy jumped to his feet and they both exited.

“What do we need the map for, Coop?” Harry asked, sipping his coffee.

“Harry, what we need to do now is some geographical analysis.” Coop gestured with his forkful of pie as he spoke. “We know that Windom Earle went to the Roadhouse on Sunday night for the Miss Twin Peaks pageant. Because he stole Pete’s truck from the Roadhouse, we can assume that he arrived at the Roadhouse on foot. That, therefore, constrains the radial distance of his base of operations from the Roadhouse as something that could easily be traversed by walking, likely no more than two miles. We also know that Leo Johnson was with Windom Earle at his base of operations, and we can surmise that Leo was killed there by Earle before his body was discovered by Bob. We can also assume that Bob is traveling on foot, and we know that he delivered Leo’s head to the sheriff station this morning, which means he must have been within some reasonable distance, again let’s assume two miles, from the station. So by looking at the intersecting territory covered by those two circles of travel, we can identify the likely location of Earle’s hideout, which Bob has at least visited and may now be using as his base.”

“Good thinking, Coop.” Harry never tired of seeing Coop’s investigative skills in action.

Lucy and Andy took their time getting back, and when they arrived, they were both a little flushed and their clothes were disheveled. It looked like they were no longer on the outs, so that was some good news anyway. Pinning the map to the wall, Harry used a pencil and compass to sketch out two-mile circles around the Roadhouse and station as Coop had prescribed. There was a small area of overlap between the two circles.

“Not a whole lot there,” Hawk said, studying the map. “A few old logging roads, some hunter’s cabins.”

“Seems like the kind of place Bob would hang out,” Harry said. “I think you’re on to something, Coop. Hawk, why don’t you and Andy go and check it out?”

“I’ll go too,” Coop said, getting up and throwing back his last gulp of coffee.

“No, we’re staying here,” Harry said firmly. “Doc Hayward said no active duty, and I heard Gordon tell you the same thing.” Despite that excuse, Harry had a deeper reason for not wanting Coop to go out. He felt in his bones that it was critical to not let Bob get anywhere near Coop.

“I would hardly call a bit of reconnaissance active duty –”

“That’s rough terrain out there, and it will require a lot of hiking around. Hawk and Andy can handle it.” Harry knew that was true; his deputies were well-qualified. He still itched to go with them, but he had meant what he said about not letting Coop out of his sight.

Once Hawk and Andy were gone, the rest of them dispersed from the conference room; Lucy to the front desk, Harry and Coop to Harry’s office. Sitting in his desk chair, Harry brought up something that had been quietly worrying away at the back of his mind. “Coop, even if we find Bob, what are we going to do? I mean, the only reason we were able to capture him before is because we took him by surprise. He didn’t know you had figured out that he was possessing Leland. Now he knows that we know that he’s in your doppelganger. How will we be able to stop him this time?”

“We have to offer him something he wants.” Coop was standing by the window, gazing out at something in the distance.

“What does he want?” Harry had a hard time wrapping his mind around Bob’s motivations. It seemed like all he wanted was to kill and torture, but Harry couldn’t see how that helped them.

“I have some ideas about that, Harry, but I don’t think you’re going to like them.”

Before Harry could ask about that, Albert appeared in the doorway. “The head-topsy is complete,” he announced unceremoniously.

“Well?” Harry demanded.

“Time of death was Sunday afternoon or evening, likely between about 2 and 10 pm.” That fit with their theory that Windom Earle had killed Leo shortly before leaving for the Twin Peaks pageant. “Cause of death is impossible to determine definitely without the rest of the body, but my expert judgment is that it had something to do with the unusually vicious tarantula attack he was apparently subjected to. This town’s humble little so-called medical facility does not have the equipment needed to identify the venom, but the bites most closely resemble those from Aphonopelma mojave, the Mojave tarantula, native to the Southern Californian desert. The venom from this species is not highly toxic, so to administer a lethal dose there must have been multiple spiders, each biting multiple times, helped along by the fact that those bites were to the victim’s face and neck, thus resulting in swelling of the airway and likely death by asphyxiation.” Albert sounded almost gleeful about the grisly nature of the death.

“So Windom Earle, what? Tied Leo up and set a bunch of tarantulas loose on his face?” Harry asked, dubious. It didn’t seem like a very efficient way to kill someone.

“Oh, no, it’s much, much crazier than that,” Albert continued. “Those fibers in the victim’s teeth? They were from rope, and there were rope burns on his gums and lips. The best interpretation I can come up with is that the tarantulas were in a container suspended above the victim’s head, attached through a pully with a rope in his teeth, so that he had to bite down on the rope to keep the container suspended. I guess eventually he got tired.” Albert shook his head. “I knew old Windom was nuts, but I had no idea he was that creative.”

That was one word for it, Harry supposed. Despicable though Leo had been, Harry couldn’t help but feel sympathetic horror at the thought of dying that way.

“What about the removal of the head?” Coop asked, apparently taking the tarantula-deathtrap element of the case in stride.

“Chainsaw. Not done particularly cleanly. It looks like they even went out of their way to make the cut as messy as possible.”

“Sounds like Bob,” Harry said.

Coop nodded, but said, “Unfortunately, this doesn’t tell us anything new about Bob’s whereabouts. We’ll have to see what Hawk and Andy find.”

Albert went off to the conference room for some coffee, and Harry said to Coop, “I think I’m going to bring in Major Briggs and the Log Lady. They were helpful before, sort of. Maybe they have some ideas about how to handle Bob.”

“Good idea, Harry,” Coop said, but he wouldn’t quite meet his eye, in a way that made Harry wonder if there was something Coop wasn’t telling him.

A couple of phone calls and an hour or so later, Harry, Coop, and Albert welcomed Major Briggs, the Log Lady, and her log to the conference room. We should probably start paying them consulting fees, Harry thought idly. Harry was surprised when Major Briggs greeted him with a great big bear hug, which he then bestowed upon Coop as well. “My greatest fear has always been that love is not enough,” he told them solemnly. “You boys showed me that’s not the case.”

The Log Lady also stopped in front of Harry. For a wild moment he thought maybe she was going to hug him too, but she just extended her log toward him. “My log says you may touch it if you wish.”

It seemed rude to decline, so Harry awkwardly patted the log like he would a small dog. “Uh, thanks,” he said.

Formalities over, they all took their seats around the conference table. Harry sat between Coop and Albert on the far wall, with Major Briggs and the Log Lady across from them. “This is your crack team of experts, Sheriff?” Albert asked, amused.

Harry cleared his throat. “Please allow me to introduce FBI Special Agent Albert Rosenfield. Albert, Major Briggs and Margaret have been very helpful in our investigation thus far by sharing their, um, unique knowledge of the Lodges and the entities that are found there.”

Albert rolled his eyes, and Harry decided to ignore him and get on with it. “As you all know, with your help, we were able to rescue Agent Cooper from the Black Lodge, but his doppelganger, possessed by Bob, still remains at large. My deputies have a lead on his possible whereabouts, but we are trying to develop a firm plan of response for when he is located.”

“My log says that Bob wants Agent Cooper,” the Log Lady said immediately. “His soul belongs to Bob.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Harry said, more forcefully than he intended.

“That’s what my log says –”

“Your log is wrong.” In his peripheral vision, Harry could see Albert struggling not to laugh while, on his other side, Coop kept his eyes down on the table in front of him.

“Harry,” Major Briggs interjected. “It does make sense. Once Bob has had experience with a soul, he develops a taste and hunger for it, and it’s unlikely that he would simply move on. He stayed with Leland from the time of his childhood, and it seems that he was fixated on Laura for many years as well –”

“So how do we get his attention away from Coop?” Harry broke in. He didn’t like hearing Coop being compared to Leland and Laura.

“We don’t.” Coop’s voice was quiet, his eyes still fixed on the table. “We use it to our advantage.”

“What do you mean?” Harry turned toward Coop, who finally raised his eyes and looked at him.

“This is what I was trying to tell you earlier, Harry. I’m the one Bob wants. If I give myself to him, no one else needs to get hurt –”

“Can we talk outside for a minute, Coop?” Harry did not want to have this conversation with an audience.

“Of course.”

“Excuse us,” Harry said, and they edged out of the room. Harry grabbed Coop by the arm and dragged him into his office, shutting the door behind them.

“Coop, maybe you should leave town now,” Harry said in a rush. He hadn’t even known that’s what he was planning to say until he said it, he just wanted Coop far, far away from Bob, now, he could back to Philadelphia or anywhere else, and maybe Harry could take some vacation days and go with him, just to make sure he got away safely –

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry.” Coop was looking down again, not meeting his eyes. “I should have left back when Windom Earle first showed up. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened. But it’s too late now. Bob will find me wherever I go, and it’s my responsibility to stop him. I’m the one who let him out in the first place.”

“So you’re just going to give up and let Bob take your soul?” Harry was struggling not to yell at Coop. “How would that even help us? Then he would just use you, like he used Leland, like he’s using your doppelganger, to do whatever horrible things he’s planning to do anyway.”

“Not if we can control him,” Coop said calmly.

“How?”

“Haloperidol. That’s what the one-armed man used to control Mike.”

“That’s not a permanent solution, Coop. We can’t guarantee that it would work forever. And in the meantime, you would have Bob in your head.” That would be worse than the doppelganger, Harry thought frantically. To have Coop there, the real Coop, but at the same time not him, and to know that Bob was tormenting him inside, looking for any chance to break free, to destroy Coop like he had destroyed Leland –

“We could come up with a permanent solution in time.” Dammit, why wouldn’t Coop just look at him? “For now, we can’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.”

“There’s nothing good about this idea, Coop –”

The door swung open, and Albert stuck his head in. “Actually, in a universe of bad ideas, it’s not a not good idea.” He had apparently been listening from outside.

“No one asked you, Albert,” Harry snapped.

“Listen, Sheriff.” Some of the acid had leached out of Albert’s voice, and without it he almost sounded like a normal human being. “I’m worried about Coop, too. And as a man of science, I don’t like any of this mystical nonsense. But what I do know is that this entity, this Bob, is going to go on a killing rampage again unless we can find a way to stop him, and doing what Coop says is our best chance at stopping him.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“No, it’s up to me,” Coop spoke up. He gently squeezed Harry’s shoulder and finally met his eyes. “Harry, I’m sorry, but I am doing this. As soon as we find Bob, I’m letting him in.”

Harry saw that Coop’s mind was made up. He couldn’t find either the words or the voice to say anything else, so retreated across the hall to the conference room.

“We’re going to need haloperidol,” Albert said. “I’ll go to the hospital and see if that country doctor is willing to give us some. Seems like the kind of guy who’d be willing to dispense drugs off the books.”

Tuning out Albert and Coop’s conversation from the hallway, Harry slumped back into his chair at the conference table. He could tell by the sympathetic looks from the Log Lady and Major Briggs that they had heard everything. “My log says this is the best plan,” the Log Lady said with certainty.

Harry was on the verge of telling her where she could stuff her log when Major Briggs laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is hard for you, son.”

“I just can’t believe this is happening. After everything – everything we did to get him back.” Harry’s voice was hoarse.

“I think Agent Cooper may still come through this ordeal, Harry. You can’t give up on him.”

“I’m not.” Harry would never give up on Coop. “I just don’t want him going through this, especially not after the Black Lodge.”

“That experience has prepared him to face Bob,” the Log Lady said with authority. Harry hoped that she and her log were right.

Chapter Text

The afternoon crept on. Albert left for the hospital to try to score some haloperidol, and Major Briggs and the Log Lady went home. When Coop wandered into the conference room for a coffee refill, Harry went to his office, and when Coop appeared at the door of his office, Harry pushed past him back to the conference room to pretend to examine the map again. Harry felt a simultaneous desire to avoid Coop, not wanting to tacitly accept his plan, and to keep an eye on him, like he had been doing ever since they returned from the Black Lodge. The result was a restless feeling that made him keep Coop on the periphery of his vision, while avoiding direct eye contact, all afternoon. It was like trying not to look at the sun during an eclipse.

Right around dusk, Harry was in his office listlessly throwing darts, which all seemed to cluster in the lower right quadrant of the dartboard no matter where he aimed. Coop came in and handed him a cup of coffee, which he accepted. Sipping the coffee, he could tell Coop was steeling himself up to say something, which Harry probably didn’t want to hear, but resigned himself to listening to anyway.

“Harry, I realize you’re angry at me –” Coop began.

“No, I’m not,” Harry interrupted. He really wasn’t, he realized. “I’m angry, but not at you. None of this is your fault. I just wish –”

“Wish what?” Coop gently prodded when he didn’t continue.

“That you wouldn’t be so eager to sacrifice yourself all the time. I mean, you let yourself be taken hostage, you walked into the Black Lodge to save Annie, and now this.”

“No one likes a hypocrite, Harry.” Coop smiled at him.

“What?”

“Are you forgetting what you did for me in the Lodge? I certainly haven’t, I’ll never forget that, Harry.” Coop was looking right at him, now it was Harry who was trying to avoid eye contact.

“That was different,” Harry muttered. That hadn’t been a sacrifice at all. He would have much rather faced an eternity in the Black Lodge with Coop than face the agony of knowing Coop was trapped there alone while he did nothing.

“I just want you to know,” Coop went on, “I will do everything in my power to fight Bob and not allow him to claim my soul completely. Not only for my own sake, but because I owe it to you, after what you did for me.”

Harry nodded gruffly and fiddled with a dart. “You’d better.”

“I also wanted to make a request of you.”

“What do you need?” Harry would do anything.

“Harry, please don’t come with us when we go after Bob.”

Well, almost anything. “Are you crazy? There’s no way I’m staying behind.”

“I have a feeling that Bob views you with a certain amount of hostility, even fear, now that you’ve conquered the Black Lodge and experienced the White Lodge.”

“Good,” Harry said with satisfaction. He put down his coffee to throw another dart, hard, and this time it landed just outside the bullseye.

“But Harry, that means he may try to hurt you again, and I can’t let that happen.”

“It won’t. He just caught me off guard last time. This time I’ll be ready.” Harry’s last dart hit dead in the center of the bullseye, and he picked up his coffee again.

“That’s not all.” Harry stole a glance at Coop, whose eyes were huge and imploring. “I don’t want you to see me possessed by Bob.”

“Well, hell, Coop, I don’t want to see that either, but you’re not giving me much of a choice.”

“It may be distressing for you. He’ll say things to try to get under your skin.”

“Don’t worry about me, Coop. Just focus on fighting Bob, like you said. I’ll be there with you every step of the way. Wherever you go, I go.” Coop expressing doubts probably should have made Harry even more worried, but somehow it had the opposite effect. It seemed that a side effect of reassuring Coop was reassuring himself.

Coop looked like he was going to say something else, but they were interrupted by Hawk and Andy, who came into the office looking tired and filthy. Andy had a scratch on his cheek and Hawk’s uniform was stained with mud. “We found Windom Earle’s hideout,” Hawk said without preamble. “It was a cabin way out in the woods, right inside the search radius Agent Cooper came up with. Leo Johnson’s body was there. Also a bloody chainsaw and five tarantulas.” He handed Harry a Polaroid picture of the crime scene, which did indeed show Leo’s headless body with a couple of tarantulas crawling on it.

“So many spiders,” Andy contributed, shuddering.

“We took both the body and the tarantulas to the hospital,” Hawk continued. “We ran into Agent Rosenfield there, he stayed to examine them.”

“Any sign of Bob?” Harry asked.

“The only thing was the note pinned to Leo’s chest,” Hawk said, pointing it out in the photo. He handed Harry an evidence bag, which contained a note in the same handwriting as the one they had found in Leo’s mouth. It said MINE.

“Any ideas?” Harry asked Coop, who looked thoughtful.

“Well, clearly the messages are meant for us. He left the head right here at the station, and he knew we would find the body as well.”

“But what do the messages mean? And why send them using Leo Johnson, of all people?”

“I’m not yet sure what they mean. As for Leo’s significance, it’s possible Bob just came across his body and decided to take advantage of the opportunity to taunt me. He probably found it fitting. Earle used Leo as his mouthpiece to send me threatening messages, so now Bob is doing the same.”

“So what now?” Harry was simultaneously relieved and impatient. Relieved because their inability to find Bob meant Coop wasn’t going to be able to offer himself up yet, but impatient because it felt like they were just prolonging the inevitable.

Coop frowned. “I suppose we can look at the map again, widen the search radius, and identify a new search area for tomorrow.” He sounded uncertain, which was rare when Coop was in investigation mode.

Harry nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the good work, guys,” he said, clapping Hawk and Andy on their backs. “You both must be hungry. Andy, how about you and Lucy head over to the Double R and bring back some dinner for everyone? I know it’s been a long day, but we can eat while we figure out our next move and then head home to get some rest before too long.”

Andy and Lucy left for the Double R, and Hawk disappeared somewhere, probably to change into a fresh uniform from his locker. Harry wandered into the conference room, where Coop was pouring yet another cup of coffee. He had a lost expression on his face.

“Everything okay, Coop?”

“I’m not sure, Harry. I just have a feeling that Bob has something else planned for tonight.”

Harry hoped he was wrong, but doubted it. Coop had preternaturally good instincts. It looked like the day wasn’t over yet.

Soon after, Lucy and Andy returned from the Double R with absurd quantities of food, and they all sat around the conference room table to eat. Despite the steady supply of donuts he had consumed throughout the day, Harry was starving, and the greasy comfort food hit the spot. He had to prod Coop to eat, even though he hadn’t had any real food since breakfast, just that slice of pie, a jelly donut, and probably a gallon of coffee. He had to be running on fumes after nothing but sugar and caffeine, while he still had to have a calorie deficit after his long stay in the Black Lodge. Harry saw Coop cradle his arms against his ribs, his injuries obviously bothering him. Harry nudged him gently. “Are you feeling okay, Coop?”

“I’m fine, Harry. How about you?” Coop’s eyes fell on his bandaged neck.

“Much better.” He was, too. Something about the adrenaline of working a case had pushed back the pain he had felt while in the hospital the day before. It was still there, but had receded to the background like a toothache that he was only consciously aware of when he probed it. Coop looked pale and haggard, though. Harry resolved to finish their planning session quickly and then convince Coop to get some rest. He still didn’t want to go home, it felt like too vulnerable a location to take Coop, but he supposed they could crash down in the cells tonight.

Harry’s musings were interrupted by the return of Albert, who walked in carrying a black briefcase and a large plastic tub. “Oh, good, dinner,” Albert said, unceremoniously setting down the briefcase and tub on the table and grabbing a plate. “Nothing gets the appetite going like a good autopsy.”

“What did you find, Albert?” Coop asked.

“Nothing particularly interesting.” Albert was delicately buttering a bread roll. “Confirmed that the cause of death was asphyxiation triggered by the tarantula bites, and confirmed that the tarantulas are A. mojave. This not being the Mojave Desert, I can only assume that crazy bastard Earle brought them with him here just on the off-chance he would need to murder someone in an unconventional way. You have to admire that kind of advance planning. Anyway, the good news is I brought back enough haloperidol to treat every whackjob hanging around Grand Central Station.” He gestured to the briefcase.

“What about this box?” Andy asked, lifting off a corner of the plastic tub. Seeing inside, he shrieked. Lucy jumped to her feet to see what was inside, then turned to glare at Albert.

“Agent Rosenfield,” she said sternly. “Tarantulas are not allowed in the conference room, not even if they’re evidence, especially not while we’re eating dinner.”

Albert shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do with them?” he asked through a mouthful of chicken pot pie.

“You are welcome to move the box to the evidence locker.”

“Will do.” Albert took another bite.

“Now,” Lucy said forcefully. Albert got up, grabbed the tub, and headed out.

“You tell him, Lucy,” Coop said. He gave her a thumbs-up. Harry grinned, grateful to Lucy for lifting the tired, defeated look from Coop’s face, if only for a moment.

Soon after they finished dinner, Harry sent Lucy home. Albert opened the case of haloperidol and started filling syringes from the vials. Andy watched him speculatively for a moment, then left the room for a moment and came back with two large air guns with dart attachments.

“Maybe these might help us, Agent Rosenfield?” Andy suggested.

Albert looked up from his vials. “What the hell are those?” he asked witheringly.

“Tranquilizer guns,” Andy said. “The game warden sometimes uses them if a bear gets into town and starts acting ornery. I thought maybe we could fill the darts with your holly-parasol to use on Agent Cooper. After Bob takes him over, I mean, because we might not want to get too close then.”

“That’s –” Albert snapped, then paused. “—Actually a good idea, Deputy Brennan,” he conceded. “Let me see those.”

Andy’s face lit up at the praise from Albert, and the two of them huddled over the tranquilizer guns. Harry moved to the other end of the table, where Coop and Hank were examining the large map of Twin Peaks. Coop was just staring at it, eyes glazed. He seemed distracted, which was unusual for him. The only other time Harry had known Coop’s mind to wonder was during his infatuation with Annie, but this dark, hopeless energy coming off him now couldn’t be more different. Harry decided abruptly that it was time to call it a night.

“Are you about done getting that haloperidol ready?” he asked Albert and Andy.

Albert was eyeing down the barrel of one of the tranquilizer guns. “Yes, this should work.”

“Great. I think it’s time we all got some rest—”

As if on cue, there was a loud, insistent knocking on the front door of the station. It was after office hours, so the door was locked. Harry frowned and stuck his head out into the hallway. Through the set of double glass doors, he could see a woman standing outside, but he couldn’t make out who it was. She pounded again, and he hurried to open the door. It was Sarah Palmer. Harry felt the kick in his gut he always felt now when he saw her around town. The things that poor woman had gone through. She was soaking wet; it had started to rain. She also looked terrified.

“It’s happening again,” she said, gripping his arm. Her eyes were wide, but her gaze was firm and determined. “He’s back.”

“You mean Bob?” Harry clarified.

With a long shuddering sigh, she nodded. “He has her.”

“Who does he have?” Coop demanded. He had followed Harry out into the hallway; Albert, Hawk, and Andy were all lined up behind him.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, it was like they were looking somewhere else entirely. “When we see him, he takes a little bit of our soul, and he just wants more and more—”

“Ronette,” Coop said suddenly. “Harry, call Ronette Pulaski’s house, see if she’s there.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, not questioning. He went to his office and flipped through a box of index cards on his desk where he kept contact information for recent cases. The Pulaskis’ number should still be in there, where was it – finding the card, he dialed the number. It was picked up immediately, before the first ring had even finished.

“Hello?” asked a man’s voice, sounding anxious.

“Mr. Pulaski, it’s Sheriff Truman. Is Ronette home?”

A brief pause. “No. Why?”

Dammit. “Just need to follow up with something on a case. When are you expecting her back?”

“Sheriff, I was thinking about calling you right before you called. She was supposed to be home from work two hours ago. I know I’m probably overreacting, but since she went back to work last week, it’s just been straight there and back home. So when she was late, I called the store, and the manager said he saw her get into her car and leave. I don’t know where she would have gone, and I’m sure she would have called me, she knows how I worry after what happened to her. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Harry hedged, inwardly cursing. This father had only just gotten his daughter back, and now she might be gone again. “I promise you we’ll do everything we can to find her.” Fending off Mr. Pulaski’s additional frantic questions, Harry apologetically hung up and returned to the conference room. Sarah was sitting there next to Coop, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee she wasn’t drinking, while Hawk and Andy leaned against the wall and Albert stood shifting his weight from side to side.

“Ronette didn’t come home from work,” Harry announced.

“Bob has her,” Coop said with certainty.

“Why Ronette?”

“It’s like Sarah said. Whoever sees Bob in his true form is bound to him. That’s what those messages meant, SAW and MINE. You saw me, now you’re mine. The only people who have seen him and are still alive are me, Sarah, and Ronette.” Harry decided not to mention that he had also briefly seen Bob’s true form at the Great Northern. “He started to take Ronette’s soul the night of February 23^rd, but most of his attention was on Laura.” Sarah’s hand shook, spilling coffee on the table, and Coop covered her hand with his. “Now he wants to finish what he started with Ronette.”

“Well, he may have her car too, so they could be anywhere.”

Coop gently placed his other hand on top of Sarah’s. “Sarah, do you know where Bob is?”

Her eyes took on that otherworldly quality again, like she was looking at something far beyond the wood-paneled walls of the conference room. “I can’t see him, but I can feel him. I can lead you there.”

“No, Sarah,” Harry said. “It’s too dangerous.” He was not on board with using a grieving mother, who also happened to be one of Bob’s potential targets, as some sort of psychic compass.

“Please let me, Sheriff,” she said seriously. She turned her eyes directly on him. “I don’t want the Pulaskis to go through what I went through.”

“It may be the only way, Harry,” Coop added. Now with two pairs of large, serious eyes beseeching him, Harry sighed. What the hell, why not just bring Bob all the people whose souls he wanted like an all-you-can-eat buffet. What could possibly go wrong?

“Albert, give me one of those tranq guns,” Harry said, resigned. “You can take the other. We’re all leaving our service weapons here in the locker.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Harry?” Hawk asked.

“Yes, it’s not going to be effective against Bob, it just provides him with a potential weapon to use against us.” Harry didn’t add that there was no way in hell he was taking the chance of anyone, intentionally or not, firing live rounds on Coop when things got hairy with Bob.

He wasn’t sure whether he or the FBI was technically in charge here, but everyone seemed to be okay with following his lead. Even Albert, who handed Harry one of the tranquilizer guns, pre-loaded with a haloperidol dart, along with a syringe and a handful of vials. “Haloperidol all around,” Albert said, distributing syringes and vials to Hawk and Andy. “Aim for a large muscle, the thigh is probably easiest. Also be aware, it takes about thirty minutes for the drug to kick in.”

“What?” Harry said in disbelief. He couldn’t believe he was just getting this information now. Somehow he doubted Bob was going to wait patiently for thirty minutes for the haloperidol to take effect.

“There are metabolic processes involved, Sheriff. It’s not like just flipping a light switch.”

Well, that should present yet another challenge. With that, they all set off.

Chapter Text

Sarah sat between Harry and Coop in the cab of Harry’s truck. Hawk, Andy, and Albert were in Hawk’s truck, following them. It was not a pleasant drive. For starters, the rain was coming down now like someone had kicked over a bucket. Also, Sarah’s Bob-magnet or whatever it was seemed to work only intermittently. She had her eyes closed, and gave directions by gesturing or muttering things like “left up ahead” and “keep going straight”, even if there was nothing to the left but a muddy field or if the road straight ahead dead-ended at a steep drop-off to the river. They had to turn around several times, and at one point were almost rear-ended by Hawk when Sarah suddenly grabbed Harry’s arm and yelled, “stop, wrong way!”, but eventually they got going on the highway heading east out of town, and Sarah seemed to settle down a bit, murmuring “yes, this way, this way.”

The worst part of the drive, of course, was that Harry was heading as fast as he could to a destination he didn’t at all want to reach. Everyone seemed sanguine about this plan, if you could call it that, as if Bob possessing Coop and stealing his soul was just another day at the office, as if having to shoot him up with an antipsychotic medication to keep him in control was a minor inconvenience, as if they had some sort of endgame beyond that when they were really flying completely blind. The fact that Ronette was now in danger had added some urgency, which Harry realized was probably why Bob had grabbed her in the first place. Bob knew that Coop would come charging in to find him now that there was an innocent girl being threatened, and Coop was walking into that trap with his eyes wide open. Deep down, a selfish part of Harry hoped that Sarah’s Bob-radar was off, that they wouldn’t find him, but he hated himself for having that feeling, for not caring enough about Ronette’s fate.

The headlights illuminated a highway sign reading, “State line, 2 miles”, jolting Harry out of his thoughts with the sudden realization of where they are and where they were going. Sarah grabbed at his arm again and said, “Turn right here,” but this time he was prepared for the change in direction. They veered off onto a dirt road leading off into the woods. It was one he had been down before.

“Coop, this is –”

“Where – where the train car was.” Coop had recognized it too, but obviously hadn’t wanted to say “where Laura was tortured to death” while her mother was sitting beside him. But Sarah seemed to know. As they continued down the road, she started making a small keening sound, which got progressively louder, and became an outright sob when the boxcar came in sight. Coop put his arm around her shoulders.

They parked a few hundred feet away from the boxcar and got out, while Hawk’s truck pulled up beside them. Harry supposed it made sense that Bob had come back here, it was undoubtedly a place of fond memories for him. Fire walk with me… Shivering against the cold rain, Harry pulled a couple of Maglites out of his glovebox, handing one to Coop. Hawk, Andy, and Albert walked up with their own flashlights.

“Andy, stay here with Sarah. Keep her safe.” Harry glanced back at the cab of his truck, where Sarah was still sitting.

Andy nodded seriously. “I promise nothing will happen to her, Harry.” Harry hated having a civilian with them, but he trusted that Andy would protect her. He might not be the brightest, but he was a good deputy.

Harry, Coop, Albert, and Hawk walked up to the boxcar. Somewhere above them the moon was almost full, but there was no sign of it through the layers of rainclouds, just heavy, oppressive darkness. The raindrops streamed down like a curtain illuminated by their flashlight beams.

The door to the boxcar was ajar. Harry and Coop positioned themselves on one side of it, with Albert and Hawk on the other. Stealth was out of the question, since if Bob was here he would have seen their flashlight beams, but they could at least make a coordinated entrance. When they were all in position, Harry made a hand signal, and they went in.

The boxcar was empty. That was clear from the moment they entered. Their lights swept across the interior of the car, revealing nothing other than the junk left by squatters over the years, no sign of Bob or Ronette. Harry felt a surge of relief, which he immediately tamped down with guilt, because after all that meant that Ronette was still missing.

“Maybe Sarah was wrong,” Harry said. His voice echoed in the empty boxcar.

“Well, color me shocked,” Albert said drily. “Turns out psychic visions are not the most reliable method of investigation.”

“No, she wasn’t wrong.” Coop shook his head. “He’s nearby. I can feel it too now.”

Great, that was comforting. “Any idea where?” Harry asked.

“No, not exactly.”

“Okay. Hawk, you and Albert go check down by the river. Coop and I will look along the railroad tracks.”

They dispersed. The railroad tracks ran by the old boxcar across the railroad bridge that crossed the river over to the Idaho state line. Harry and Coop walked on the tracks toward the bridge, shining their flashlights into the surrounding forest and seeing nothing but trees and rain. Harry was matching Coop’s every step so that he could stay within arm’s length, could reach out and grab him if needed.

They neared the center of the bridge, the one that Ronette had crossed back in February that had led to Coop coming to Twin Peaks in the first place. The river rumbled like a train under their feet, swollen with the past weeks’ rain and the start of the spring snowmelt. Walking on the downstream side of the bridge, Harry shone his flashlight over the railing down to the river below. His flashlight beam illuminated the brown, turbid river water studded here and there with whitewater crests. Suddenly he saw something else in the water, something bright red that didn’t belong. Sweeping his light back over it, he saw that it was a shoe. And that shoe was attached to a foot, which was attached to a body –

“Dammit,” Harry breathed.

“What is it, Harry?” Coop also leaned over the railing and shone his flashlight down. “Oh, no,” he said as he saw what Harry saw. “Ronette.”

Harry could see Hawk’s and Albert’s lights on the riverbank a short distance downstream from Ronette’s body, which appeared to be floating in an eddy along the side of the channel. He pointed his flashlight at Hawk and Andy and switched it on an off rapidly a few times. He saw their faces turn up toward him, and he pointed his light at Ronette and switched it on and off again. They got the message. Hawk, seeing the body, splashed into the current and carried it back to shore, laying it gently on the ground. Albert knelt next to it, apparently checking for a pulse. After a minute, he looked up at Harry and Coop and shook his head.

“No.” Coop had his elbows on the bridge railing, and he covered his face with his hands. He looked utterly defeated. “This was because of me.”

“Coop, this wasn’t your fault,” Harry said, putting his hand on Coop’s shoulder. “Bob first went after Ronette before you even came to Twin Peaks. It’s like you said, he got a taste of her soul then. There was nothing you could have done.” Even as he spoke, he was still scanning the area with his flashlight. Where the hell was Bob?

“I don’t think that’s true, Harry.” Coop’s voice was flat. “He only took her to get me out here.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of killing two birds with one stone?” The voice came from the far side of the bridge. It was Coop’s voice, but at the same time sounded nothing like him. Harry and Coop both whirled their flashlights toward the source of the voice. In the glare of the light stood the Coop doppelganger, still wearing the blue silk pajamas. Grinning, he walked slowly toward them through the streamers of rain pouring down.

Coop shoved Harry roughly back and then started walking, insanely enough, toward Bob. Harry realized that Coop was trying to put as much space as possible between himself and Harry. Subtly drawing his haloperidol-loaded tranq gun, Harry held his breath and watched.

Coop and Bob met in the center of the bridge and stopped, just a few feet away from each other. It was eerie seeing the two Coops eye-to-eye. The real Coop was facing away, but Harry could see the doppelganger’s face, flickering back and forth between his Coop disguise and Bob’s true form, like he was standing in front of a funhouse mirror.

“I know you like to play with fire, Dale,” Bob said quietly, almost seductively. “Your soul is already mine. You can keep trying to put out the flames until everyone around you is reduced to ash, or you can step into the inferno and let it consume you. Fire walk with me.”

“You win,” Coop said, just as quietly. Harry was almost grateful he couldn’t see Coop’s face. “I’m letting you in.”

Bob broke out into triumphant laughter. The body of the doppelganger seized up as a black cloud seemed to rise up out of it. The cloud then surged into the real Coop, and the doppelganger’s body dissolved into smoke.

Harry was ready. He didn’t give Bob one second to enjoy his newfound host. As soon as the cloud entered Coop, Harry aimed and shot his haloperidol dart from the tranq gun. His aim was true. The dart embedded itself in the side of Coop’s right thigh.

Coop (not Coop, Bob) turned toward him, an expression of boredom on his face. He pulled out the dart and tossed it casually into the river below. “This is your plan to stop me, Sheriff? You think the medicines your science invents, this chemical, a simple molecule, is a match for my power? Are you sure you’ve really thought this through? For instance, what if I just decide your beloved Agent Cooper isn’t worth the trouble and send him for a swan dive into the river like poor Ronette?” With a single fluid motion, Bob hoisted himself up and over the handrail so that he was standing on the wrong side of the railing, leaning out precariously over the drop.

Pure, unthinking horror drove Harry instantaneously across the distance that separated him from Bob. He reached out to grab Bob, to keep him from sending Coop down to his death, but Bob took him by surprise with a sudden leap back over the railing. Bob came down hard on top of him, knocking him to the ground, his hands wrapped around Harry’s throat.

Bob laughed maniacally. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually be stupid enough to fall for that. I would never just discard dear Dale, not when I worked so hard to get him. Those doppelgangers are a poor substitute for the real deal, a soul freely offered. It’s like upgrading from a Buick station wagon to a Ferrari.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. Desperately, he hit Coop (not Coop, Bob) in the face, trying to dislodge him. He landed a solid blow, and blood spurted from Coop’s nose, but Bob just laughed and tightened his hold on Harry’s neck. Always with the neck for this guy.

“I have to say, I’m glad you took the bait. Dale is watching right now, and he is feeling such exquisite pain from watching you die, watching me kill someone he loves so very much with his hands.” Harry tried another punch, this time landing a glancing blow on the side of Coop’s face. Bob’s grip was unrelenting.

“Sheriff, it really is pathetic how you just can’t bring yourself to even try to inflict any real damage, not even to save your own life.” Summoning all his rapidly dwindling reserves of strength, Harry put it all into another punch, which left a mark from Coop’s teeth in his knuckles but did little else. Harry’s arm fell uselessly to the ground. His vision was blurring out and his ears were ringing. Bob was right though, he probably had been subconsciously pulling his punches, because Bob was wearing Coop’s face and the very core of Harry’s being rebelled against hurting him. But he was hurting him anyway, because if Coop survived this whole ordeal, he was going to have to live with the memory of seeing his own hands wrapped around Harry’s neck, of watching Harry’s death with his own eyes. But there was nothing Harry could do about that now. I’m sorry, Coop.

Suddenly, a dark shape streaked through the light left by Harry’s dropped flashlight. It hit Bob, wrenching him away from Harry. It was Hawk. Albert followed a moment behind and also tackled Bob. Harry rolled over onto his side, coughing and gasping in all the sweet, sweet oxygen he could. He would never take the simple act of breathing for granted again.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Sheriff, you okay?” Albert’s worried eyes met his. Harry nodded, still too preoccupied with his newly returned ability to breathe to try talking, and Albert shone his flashlight on his neck and gently probed his wound with his fingers. “Looks like one or two of your stitches came out, but you’re not bleeding too badly. You’re going to have a hell of a bruise though. Just try and take slow deep breaths, that will help bring the oxygen level in your blood back to normal more quickly.”

Harry tried to follow the advice and slow his breathing. He sat up and looked over at Hawk, who was cuffing Bob’s hands against the bridge railing. Bob sat leaned against the bridge supports, hands held above him cuffed to the railing, looking not a bit concerned about his apparent reversal of fortune.

“So now you’re going to wait for your mighty drug to take effect so that Agent Cooper can take control again. Here’s something you may be interested to know. The one-arm man used haloperidol –” Bob spat the word as if it tasted filthy – “as an aid to help contain my good friend Mike, but he had to do ninety percent of the heavy lifting himself. It took him years of training, highly developed mental discipline, to be able to exert even the tenuous control he had. And I am far stronger than Mike, and your Dale is much weaker than the one-armed man. He doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

“He’s much stronger than you,” Harry rasped. “He’s going to destroy you.”

“Don’t engage with him, Harry,” Hawk said. “It’s what he wants.”

“Even if he does win the battle,” Bob went on, ignoring them, “I will win the war. It’s a war of attrition. I will be here in his head, whispering curses in his ear, reminding him of all the worst parts of himself, laying siege to his soul, and I will never stop, all while you keeping pumping poison into his veins. And soon there will be nothing of him left. He’ll beg you for death, but you won’t even be able to grant him that mercy, because you need him as your prison to contain me. You’ll have to lock him away in some dark place, where he will die decades from now, a forgotten, crazy old man, while I gnaw on his bones and suck out the marrow. And the best part? The part that makes it the sweetest victory I have ever tasted? It is you who love him who will do it. Not me. You have chosen this fate for him.”

Harry, shaking with fury, got to his feet. Albert grabbed his arm. “Don’t listen, Sheriff,” he said in Harry’s ear, although he sounded shaken too. “He’s just trying to provoke a reaction.”

“If I want a reaction, I can get one,” Bob said confidently. “For instance, what if Dale gets brain damage? That would make it rather difficult for him to contain me.” He suddenly leaned his head forward and whipped it back, hard, into the bridge support. The impact of skull on steel rang out with a sickening clang. Bob leaned his head forward in preparation for another bang, but Harry lunged over to him and grabbed his head, holding it in place between his hands. Bob laughed.

“You got him, Harry?” Hawk asked. “Maybe we should move him somewhere safer.”

“No.” Harry was sure Bob wanted them to uncuff him so that he could make an escape attempt. “We’re staying here until the haloperidol takes effect.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawk and Albert exchange worried glances.

Harry was kneeling directly in front of Coop (not Coop, Bob), both hands on the sides of Coop’s head. At these close quarters, he couldn’t help making direct eye contact, which was unnerving because there was nothing of Coop in those eyes. He could see Bob’s true form occasionally flicker through, but even worse was seeing Coop’s features twisted into Bob’s evil grimace.

After a few minutes of relative quiet from Bob, Coop’s eyes filled with tears. “Harry,” he said, not in Bob’s harsh mocking tone but Coop’s voice, sounding scared. “Help me. It hurts –” He broke off into sobs.

“That’s not Coop,” Albert said flatly. “The haloperidol hasn’t had enough time to take effect yet.”

“I know it’s not Coop,” Harry snapped. He could still see flashes of Bob in Coop’s face. He refused to get fooled by Bob yet again. At the same time, it was painful to see Coop’s face and hear Coop’s voice expressing such agony. Bob continued sobbing, but the sobs soon turned back into laughter.

“Do you know why Dale loves you, Sheriff?”

“Fuck off.”

“It’s because you are so simple. No depth, what you see is what you get. It makes him feel special, being around a stooge like you. Having someone to explain his ideas to, who will be awed by his brilliance. A fawning sycophant, a useful idiot, that’s what you are to him. And yet you love him all the more, even though deep down he’s laughing at you –”

“He said fuck off,” Albert interjected. Harry marveled dully at the novelty of Albert, of all people, sticking up for him.

The rain continued its relentless downpour. It dripped into Harry’s eyes and soaked through the knees of his pants. His arms were getting sore, but he didn’t dare to loosen his hold on Coop’s head or shift his position in case Bob seized the opportunity to start hurting Coop again. Bob continued to act unconcerned about his current situation, occasionally letting out a burst of laughter, but he gradually grew quieter and Harry saw fewer flickers of his true form. Behind Harry, Albert and Hawk shifted and paced restlessly. Harry was aware, in the back of his mind, of Andy and Sarah waiting in the truck, doubtlessly wondering what the hell was happening, and of Ronette’s drowned body, lying alone on the riverbank somewhere beneath them. But they had to keep waiting, had to give Coop a chance.

After some time, which felt like hours but, assuming the metabolic processes had proceeded as scheduled, must have been only about thirty minutes, Harry saw a change in Coop’s face. His eyes became somehow clearer, and they fixed themselves on Harry’s. Coop looked exhausted, and terrified, but at least he looked like Coop now. “Harry,” he said.

Albert crouched down next to Harry, glancing at his watch. “There’s been enough time for the haloperidol to take effect,” he said.

“It’s Coop,” Harry said with certainty. He ran his hands down the side of Coop’s face, gently wiping away some of the blood that had mixed with the rainwater. “You okay?” he asked Coop.

Coop didn’t answer the question. “Harry, you have to take me to Glastonbury Grove now,” he said urgently.

“No.” Harry’s response was visceral. Glastonbury Grove was the last place he ever wanted to take Coop, especially now. But he realized with a slowly dawning horror why Coop wanted to go there. Not again…

Albert, uncharacteristically, seemed to be a step behind. “Why would you want to go there? Isn’t that where the entrance to the Black Lodge is – oh.” His face darkened with realization too.

“This is the only way to send Bob back where he came from,” Coop said, eyes darting between their faces. “I have to take him through to the Black Lodge myself.”

“This was your plan all along,” Harry said. Tears were brimming in his eyes, and he was choking back a sob as he spoke. The grief burned his battered throat. “You used yourself as a trap.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you would object.”

“You think?” Albert was defaulting to his usual response of anger. “Coop, this is crazy.”

Harry couldn’t say anything else. The tears ran freely down his face, mixing with the raindrops.

“Listen,” Coop pleaded, eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Albert. “I will do everything in my power to escape the Lodge. But even if I am trapped there again, it would be better than this. I can feel –” Coop took a heavy breath. “I can feel Bob in my mind even now. What he said about my future is true. If I stay out here, I will suffer, and go crazy, and he’ll destroy me. Please don’t let him do that to me.”

Harry paused for a moment, gathering his strength for what he knew he needed to do. Then he stood up and unlocked Coop’s hands from the railing.

“Keep my hands cuffed,” Coop said urgently. “In case I lose control and Bob takes over again.” Harry did so, fastening the cuffs around Coop’s hands behind his back. Then, picking up his flashlight from the ground, he grabbed Coop’s arm and started walking him along the tracks toward where their trucks were parked. Albert and Hawk followed along silently behind.

Leading Coop along, Harry felt like he was wrangling a drunk and disorderly suspect. Coop was having a hard time walking, like he had forgotten how to control his legs, and he stumbled a couple of times and would have fallen without Harry’s support. They arrived back at the trucks, where Andy and Sarah got out of the cab.

“Ronette’s dead.” Harry said succinctly. Sarah didn’t look surprised, just sad, while Andy let out a quiet sob. “We have Bob trapped.” He gestured at Coop. “We’re taking him back to the Black Lodge. Andy, you and Hawk stay here with Sarah. You can go retrieve Ronette’s body and take her to the morgue. Albert, you’re with me.”

No one said anything, just shuffled off to follow Harry’s orders. Harry got in the driver’s seat of his truck and, at Coop’s insistence, Albert sat between Harry and Coop with his haloperidol-filled tranq gun trained on Coop in case he needed to administer another dose. They headed off down the rutted dirt road, sending geysers of muddy water into the air with each puddle they bounced through.

They were silent until they reached the highway, where Harry turned west back toward town. Then Coop spoke up. “I’m working to keep Bob subdued, which requires quite a bit of concentration, so I’m trying not to dwell on distressing subjects. But I need to tell you, Harry, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he meant. Bob almost strangling him, what Bob had said to him, or Coop actively hurting him now by making Harry bring him back to the Black Lodge. But it didn’t matter. “It’s okay, Coop,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry about me.”

In the lights from occasional oncoming vehicles, Harry could see, off to his side, Coop’s face. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing deeply in a pattern of alternating long and short breaths. Probably some kind of Tibetan meditation thing.

Soon, they arrived at the turnout for Glastonbury Grove. Heading down yet another rough muddy road, Harry steeled himself for what was coming.

They parked as close to the Grove as was possible and got out. Harry and Albert each held one of Coop’s arms to assist him in his unsteady walk for the short distance to the grove. The woods felt dead tonight, no moonlight, no owls calling, all sensible earthly creatures no doubt sheltering from the rain.

When the Grove itself came into view, the pool of burnt motor oil overflowing with rainwater, Coop stopped. “This is it,” he said.

“Coop, you better come back from this. Otherwise, you realize I’m going to have to explain to Gordon why I let you willingly walk into an evil dimension yet again.” Albert’s words were angry, but his tone was just worried.

“I’ll certainly try my best, Albert. I don’t want to get you in trouble with Gordon. And thank you for your friendship.”

Albert looked at Coop for a moment, then gave him an awkward half-hug, made all the more awkward by Coop’s being unable to return it because of his hands being cuffed.

Coop turned to Harry. He started to say, “Harry –”

But Harry cut him off and grabbed his arm. “Let’s just go.”

Coop paused. “Harry, I need to go alone. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger on my behalf again.”

“What part of ‘wherever you go, I go’ don’t you understand?”

Coop’s eyes were bright. “Harry, listen to me. Last time, when I went into the Lodge, I wasn’t ready. Now I am. So please, don’t worry about me. I really believe that this time, I’m strong enough to fight Bob and come back.”

“I know you are,” Harry said with certainty. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Now come on.” He tugged on Coop’s arm, and this time Coop came along with him.

“I’ll just wait here then,” Albert called, sounding frustrated.

Harry and Coop paused as the red curtains of the Lodge entrance appeared before them. Exchanging a glance, they stepped through together.

Chapter Text

They weren’t in the Black Lodge, or the White Lodge either. Instead, it was a featureless white space that extended into infinity in all directions. Harry looked at Coop, about to comment on their newfound surroundings, but Coop’s faced suddenly twisted in agony and he dropped to his knees. Harry, panicked, knelt in front of him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Coop?”

Coop opened his mouth, and all that came out was a wordless scream. It sounded like all the terror and pain and grief in the world had been concentrated into a ball in Coop’s chest and was now fighting its way out. Frantic, Harry checked all around Coop and saw no injury, no threat, nothing that would make him make a sound like that. It must be something coming from within Coop, his struggle with Bob. The screams continued.

“Coop, listen to me,” Harry said, grabbing Coop’s face. “Look at me.” Coop’s eyes, which had been rolled back in his head, now met his. “I know it hurts. But you can beat him. You are stronger than him. And I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

Coop seemed to hear him, to understand him. With apparent effort, he stopped screaming and fell silent.

“Now take deep breaths. That’s what the Tibetan monks do, right? It’s all about deep breathing.” Harry modeled what he knew of deep-breathing exercises, and Coop seized on it like a lifeline and breathed with him.

“That’s better. Just keep breathing.” Harry leaned his forehead against Coop’s, and they breathed as one. At this distance, they were literally eye-to-eye. Coop’s eyes looked huge, his pupils dilated, and he kept his unblinking gaze fixed on Harry’s, as if Coop was drowning and Harry was the only land in sight.

They stayed like that, for how long Harry had no idea. He kept a firm grip on Coop’s shoulders and kept talking, not even aware of what he was saying, just letting the words flow out like a stream. He tried, as best he could, to let his touch and his voice and his eyes be an anchor for Coop, something for him to hold on to.

At one point, Coop gasped, like he’d been stabbed. Harry tightened his grip on Coop’s shoulders. Something was happening. As Coop exhaled, a black cloud came out of him. It hovered just above their heads, then vanished. “Coop?” Harry asked.

“He’s gone,” Coop said. And they were no longer in the white infinite space but kneeling on the wet leaves on the forest floor with the sycamores of Glastonbury Grove dripping rain onto them from above. Harry released Coop from his grip and drew back to look him over. He was himself again, Harry could see. Bob was gone.

Harry fumbled for his keys and unlocked Coop’s handcuffs. The second he did, Coop’s arms were wrapped around him in a hug. Harry returned the embrace, burying his face against Coop’s shoulder. Coop was shaking like as aspen in a storm, taking shuddery breaths, but he was here, he was safe and whole and himself, reassuringly solid to Harry’s touch.

“Coop? Sheriff?” Albert’s voice came from just above them. Harry pulled his face away from Coop’s shoulder, just in time to be blinded by Albert’s flashlight beam shining directly in his face.

“We’re okay,” Harry said. “Bob is gone. You did it, Coop.” He grinned.

Coop just tightened his hold. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Harry,” he murmured.

“Well, I for one wouldn’t mind getting out of this monsoon. I’ve never been a fan of the rustic charm of the Northwest woods, especially now that I see the level of precipitation that is required to sustain such dense growth,” Albert said. Despite the complaints, he was smiling, which was a weird look for him.

“Come on,” Harry said, helping Coop up. Coop continued to clutch Harry’s arm as they walked back to the truck, like he was afraid one of them would disappear if he let go.

“How long were we gone?” Harry asked Albert.

“Uh, about fifteen seconds,” Albert said. “It was a bit anticlimactic from this end, to be honest. What exactly happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry said. “It wasn’t the Black Lodge or the White Lodge. It was sort of a –”

“Reception area,” Coop said. “I think Laura must have set it up. She did say the White Lodge would use its power to help us.”

“But you still had to force Bob out, to send him back to the Black Lodge.”

Coop nodded. “He was like a parasite, with all these different appendages sunk into my soul. And I had to separate what was part of me from what was him. Like I said, Harry, if you hadn’t been there to remind me, I think I would have lost myself.” Harry just squeezed Coop’s shoulder. Coop was still shaking uncontrollably.

When they got back to the truck, Harry said “Wait” and rummaged around behind the passenger seat. He found a slightly musty wool blanket. “Take off your coat,” he ordered Coop. That long fitted coat of his was stylish, but no self-respecting Washingtonian would ever wear something like that, because it was worse than useless in the Pacific Northwest rain. Harry couldn’t tell how much of Coop’s shaking was because of the experience he had just been through versus shivering from the cold, but wearing a soaking wet coat definitely couldn’t help. Coop obediently took off the coat and handed it to Harry (it had to weigh ten pounds with all the trapped water), and Harry threw it behind the seat. Then they climbed in, Coop in the middle seat between Albert and Harry. Harry cranked the heat to its maximum as they set off.

Bumping back along the unpaved road, Harry called Hawk’s truck on the police radio. Hawk answered immediately. “What’s your status?”

“We’re all fine,” Harry answered. “Bob is gone, back in the Black Lodge. Where are you?”

“Almost back to the station.” The relief in Hawk’s voice was audible. “We dropped Sarah off at home and then took Ronette’s body to the morgue. We also notified her family.”

“Thanks, Hawk.” Harry was grateful that Hawk had taken on that awful responsibility. He didn’t think he could deal with a grieving family tonight. “You and Andy go home now. Take tomorrow off too. You guys did great work.”

“Glad you’re all okay, Harry.”

Once he had signed off, Coop looked over at him. “Harry, maybe you should go back to the hospital, have them look at your neck.”

“I’d rather die,” Harry said decisively. He’d had quite enough of the hospital that week. But Coop flinched a bit at his words. “Sorry, Coop. But I’m fine. Just need some sleep.”

Soon they pulled up in front of the sheriff’s station. “I’m just going to run inside and get your stuff,’ Harry told Coop, who nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

“Good night, Coop,” Albert said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He and Harry got out of the truck, and Harry started toward the station.

“Wait, Sheriff,” Albert said. He glanced back at the truck. “Do you think Coop’s okay?”

Harry paused. “I think he will be,” he said. He hoped that was true. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through Coop’s head right now.

“Well,” Albert said. “I know you and I have had our differences, but uh. Thank you. For, you know, taking care of him.” It seemed to take an almost physical effort for Albert to express the sentiment. Harry nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good night, Albert. Thanks for your help.”

Albert went to his rental car to drive back to the Great Northern for the night, while Harry ducked into the station. He retrieved Coop’s luggage and got both of their service weapons out of the locker as well. Upon returning to the truck, he shoved the suitcase in the back of the cab so it wouldn’t get wet in the bed.

Even though the passenger seat was free now that they had dropped off Albert, Coop stayed in the middle seat, close enough that his arm was pressed against Harry’s as they drove. Harry could feel that he was still shaking, and that his shirt was wet as a result of his coat having been completely soaked though. So Harry wrapped his right arm around Coop, steering with just his left hand, and Coop leaned against him as they headed down the highway to Harry’s house at the edge of town. They were silent for the entire drive.

When they arrived, Harry grabbed Coop’s luggage, coat, and their weapons. Coop tried to take the luggage from him, but Harry waved him off, figuring Coop was having enough trouble just walking right now. As soon as they entered Harry’s house, Harry cranked up the thermostat and hung Coop’s coat off a chair that he positioned next to the radiator to speed the drying process.

Coop was just standing in the center of the living room, shivering. Harry rummaged through his luggage and found a pair of silk pajamas like the one the doppelganger had worn, but black instead of blue. “Here,” he said, pressing them into Coop’s hands. “Go change, you’re soaking wet. Better yet, take a hot shower while you’re at it.” Harry realized that he could use a shower himself, he couldn’t even remember how many days it had been since he’d taken one, but he was exhausted at the thought of doing it now. It could wait until morning.

Coop dutifully shuffled off to the bathroom, and Harry busied himself pulling out the sleeping sofa for Coop and making it up with sheets, pillows, blankets. He went to the linen closet to retrieve a heavy down comforter, since Coop seemed to be having such a hard time warming back up. When he was done, he realized the sounds of the shower running had stopped a few minutes ago, but the door to the bathroom was still closed.

Harry quashed the anxiety that immediately sprang unbidden to his mind. Just because the last time he had been waiting for Coop to emerge from a bathroom, the thing that came out was not his friend, didn’t mean that he should immediately freak out every time there was a closed door between him and Coop. Still, he couldn’t help but go knock on the door and call, “You okay, Coop?”

Coop replied by opening the door. “I’m fine, Harry. Do you by any chance have some gauze?” He was wearing his pajama pants, but no shirt, clumsily trying to re-bandage his gunshot wound with the bloodstained gauze he had on before his shower.

“Go sit down, Coop. I’ll help you with that.” Harry kicked himself for not thinking to have supplies ready. He sifted through the cabinets of his bathroom until he eventually found the first-aid kit he knew he had somewhere. He brought it into the living room, where Coop was sitting on the folded-out sleeper sofa. “Hang on a minute,” Harry said. He went to the kitchen and got a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer. Handing it to Coop, he said, “For your face.” Coop smiled wanly and held the bag to his face, which was already starting to show some bruising. Apparently, Harry had gotten in better punches than he had thought, and there was going to be a lot of swelling in the morning.

“Now let me see that.” Harry gently pulled away the old gauze from Coop’s abdomen. It was the first time he had seen the wound up close. It had red, angry edges, and was seeping out a bit of pinkish fluid, but otherwise looked okay as far as his limited knowledge went. He took a large sheet of clean gauze from the first-aid kit and had Coop hold it against the wound while he secured it in place with medical tape. Then he had Coop hold up his arms so he could re-wrap his broken ribs with the elastic wrap. “Is that okay?”

“Much better. Thank you.” Coop looked at him. “Harry, your bandage also needs to be changed. Can I help you?”

“Sure, thanks.” Harry could feel that his own bandage was damp, confirming that his wound had been bleeding again. His neck also hurt, a dull ache that was undifferentiated between the wound Bob had inflicted with the broken glass at the Great Northern and the more recent near-strangling on the railroad bridge.

Coop reached up and removed the old bandage from his neck, then inspected the wound carefully. “Harry, this doesn’t look good,” he said, his face a picture of misery. He trailed his fingers along the edge of the wound. Although his touch was beyond gentle, Harry had a sudden flash of a piece of broken mirror in Coop’s hands, of Coop’s hands wrapped around his neck and he flinched away involuntarily. Coop froze.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He really was too. His reaction had brought a look of self-loathing to Coop’s face, and Harry was mad at himself for putting it there.

“It’s okay,” Coop said. “I understand, Harry. I should have thought –”

“No.” Harry caught Coop’s wrist between his hands. “It wasn’t you, okay? I know that.”

Coop looked troubled. “And you know what Bob said about what I think of you, you know that wasn’t me either, right? In truth, Harry, I’ve learned far more from you than you have from me, I’ve never looked down on you –”

“I know that, Coop.” It was true, Coop had never shown him anything but respect from the very first day they met, asking his advice, valuing his opinions, even defending him against Albert. He squeezed Coop’s wrist. “Come on. I could use your help getting this bandaged up.”

Coop relented, carefully put a new bandage on Harry’s neck. He seemed to be deliberately keeping his movements slow and gradual so as not to freak Harry out again, and Harry made a conscious effort to stay still, to show Coop that he trusted him. The task done, Harry asked Coop, “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you, Harry, Go to bed. You look so tired.”

That much was true. Harry went to his bedroom, changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth. His house being as small as it was, his bedroom was adjoined directly to the living room. He left the door open so that Coop would be in visual range all night. Harry realized that they had been within sight and sound of each other nonstop since they had met up in the Black Lodge. He was not yet ready to let go of the peace of mind that Coop’s proximity afforded, the confirmation that Coop was here and was himself.

Harry had thought that, as tired as he was, he might be too keyed up with adrenaline to sleep, but he was wrong. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and slept solidly all night through.

Chapter Text

Harry woke to grey daylight filling his room. He glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost 11 am. He wasn’t actually sure what time they had gotten home last night, but it couldn’t have been much past midnight, which meant he had apparently just slept for over ten hours straight. Guess he really had been tired.

When he lifted his head to look into the living room, the sofa bed was empty other than its tangle of blankets. Slightly alarmed, he sprang out of bed and hurried into the living room, relaxing when he saw Coop sitting on the floor by the window, still dressed in his black silk pajamas. He was sitting in that cross-legged pose that Harry vaguely remembered Coop informing him was called the lotus position. Harry could just see the side of his face, but Coop’s eyes appeared to be closed, and Harry thought he was meditating. Not wanting to disturb him, he turned to go back to the bedroom, but Coop got up. “How are you feeling, Harry?”

“Better,” Harry said. He didn’t sound like it, his voice was raw, but the pain had receded somewhat since the night before.

Coop winced. “Oh, Harry, your voice.” His eyes fell on Harry’s throat. “Your neck.” He sounded horrified.

Harry rubbed absentmindedly at his throat. “It’s okay, it doesn’t really hurt.” Now that Coop was facing him, he had a good view of the damage he had inflicted last night. Coop had a pretty spectacular black eye, as well as a fat lip. “Anyway, you’re one to talk. Your face has looked better.” Coop surprised him by laughing, which was nice to hear. It was the first real laugh he’d heard from Coop since the Black Lodge. Actually, Coop still somehow looked great anyway. The injuries that would have looked disfiguring on anyone else just gave him a sort of rakish air.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen, so you could make some if you want, but it’s probably not up to your usual standard,” Harry warned. He wasn’t nearly as big a snob about coffee as Coop was, so he usually just bought whatever was on sale at Ray’s Food Place. “Probably better if we just go to the Double R, especially since I don’t have much in the way of food here anyway.”

“Sounds great,” Coop agreed.

“Okay, just let me take a shower first.”

Upon entering the bathroom, Harry saw in the mirror the reason for Coop’s horror at the sight of him. His neck was collared all the way around by a vivid bruise. It even had the outlines of fingers visible in it. It was quite impressive as far as bruises went. Shrugging, Harry took a shower, which felt amazing, and gingerly shaved off as much of his several-days growth as he could without getting too near the still-raw wound on his neck. He rebandaged the wound, noting that his old bandage had a bit of blood on it, indicating that it had bled overnight, but it seemed to have stopped. Heading to his bedroom, he got dressed in jeans, since he wasn’t going to work today, and hunted around until he found a beige turtleneck sweater his aunt had knitted for him several Chistmases ago. Definitely not the sort of thing he would normally wear, but he didn’t want people asking him about his neck all day.

Returning to the living room, he saw that Coop had folded up the sofa, upon which the sheets and blankets had been folded neatly into piles. Coop’s suitcase stood by the door. He heard Coop talking to someone, and at first thought he was dictating a note to Diane. But then he came around the corner and saw that Coop was talking on the phone, fully dressed in his suit and tie, hair combed and gelled. “Okay, Albert,” Coop was saying. “See you then.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, slightly uneasy.

Coop looked him over, evidently noting the turtleneck sweater but not commenting on it. “I’m leaving,” Coop said quietly.

“When?” Harry asked, going for casual.

“Albert and I are catching a red-eye out of Seattle tonight, so we’re leaving Twin Peaks this afternoon. Albert wanted to leave right away, but I insisted that we wait so that you and I can have one more lunch at the Double R together.” Coop smiled, a bit ruefully.

Harry wasn’t expecting the gut-punch that accompanied Coop’s words. For all Coop’s talk about buying a house in Twin Peaks, Harry hadn’t ever really dared to hope that he would really stick around for the long run. But he had thought that Coop would at least stay for a couple of days. “Is the FBI making you go back to work already?” he asked, confused.

“No. But I think it’s best if I leave now.”

But why? It was making Harry nervous whenever Coop was out of his line of sight. He needed the constant confirmation that Coop was here, that he was okay, not in the Black Lodge, not a doppelganger, not possessed by Bob. Now, with no warning, Coop was going to be on the other side of the country. And Harry was worried about him. There was no way he was handling this as well as he seemed to be. After all he had been through, there had to be some trauma. How could he just go back to his life in Philadelphia like none of this had happened?

A thought occurred to Harry. “Coop,” he said, uncertainly. “If you’re leaving because of me, I mean because of what Bob did to me, you don’t have to. I mean, you can stay as long as you want. I want you to stay.” He was fumbling this, he knew. What he was trying to express was that he didn’t want Coop to leave because he thought his presence was disturbing to Harry. But Coop seemed to get what he was saying.

“I know. It’s not because of you. And I wish I could stay.” Coop sighed. “But I have a lot to meditate on, to reflect on. What I did, and didn’t do, and the people who got hurt because of it. Ronette, and Annie, and you. And what I experienced in the Black Lodge.” Coop looked away for a moment, then back at Harry. “I need some distance to do that. I hope you can understand, Harry.”

“Yeah, I understand.” He did, it was just the suddenness of the separation that was making Harry feel slightly sick. He took a deep breath. “If you ever want to come back and visit, you’re welcome anytime.”

“Of course, I will.” Coop’s reply was instant. “I promised Lucy and Andy I’d come to their wedding. And, Harry, I hope you don’t mind if I call you sometimes.”

“You’d better.” They stood there for a moment. Then Harry said, “So, Double R?”

And Coop smiled back at him and said, “Absolutely.”

It was the element of surprise, Harry decided. That was what was so invigorating about his friendship with Coop, that made it different from any other relationship he’d ever experienced. Coop was constantly surprising him. He glanced over at Coop. They were driving over to the Double R, Coop’s luggage in the back, neither of them saying much, because everything had already been said. Harry reflected on their first meeting, when Coop had surprised him at least three times in less than a minute. Harry had been to his share of regional law-enforcement conferences, where one of the favorite topics of conversation among the grizzled sheriffs from Walla Walla and Lewiston and Pendleton as they stood in hotel lobbies drinking stale coffee during session breaks was the good-for-nothing, interfering, arrogant, borderline fascist feds, who waltzed into town acting like they knew everything, like the good small-town folks were just a bunch of inbred hayseeds, like local law-enforcement officers who dedicated their lives to their communities were basically on the same level as mall rent-a-cops. Harry hadn’t had much experience with the feds himself. When he found out the FBI was sending an agent to town following Laura Palmer’s murder, he had had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he had been grateful they would have some help, because he’d never dealt with a case of coldblooded murder before (some manslaughters, and more than a few suicides, but the last outright murder in Twin Peaks as far as anyone could remember was back in ’78, before Harry took over as sheriff. This last month had sure inflated their murder rate, though.). But on the other hand, hearing all those stories of FBI agents overstepping their bounds, he had had some trepidation. When he had actually met Coop, the first surprise, immediately upon seeing him, had been that he was so young. The second surprise, after Coop had greeted him with what could only be genuine warmth, had been that he was so, well, nice. The third surprise, which had begun with a slow burn at the mention of cherry pie and then burst fully forth with the description of the trees, had been that he was so weird. And the surprises had continued after that. The dramatic unveiling of a map of Tibet while throwing rocks as an investigative technique, the fact that said investigative technique worked, the stalwart defense of Harry when Albert filed a complaint against him, the way Coop had immediately become as much a part of the town as anyone who grew up there. And now, another, less pleasant surprise, that he was extricating himself from Twin Peaks just as suddenly as he’d initially woven himself into it.

Without those constant surprises, Harry reflected, life would become very dull. He had never thought of his life that way before, but now the prospect of going back to busting up fights at the Roadhouse and pulling stranded motorists out of ditches was depressing. It wasn’t even that he minded doing those things, because if Coop was here doing them with him they wouldn’t seem dull, because Coop found everything interesting and made everything interesting. It was the prospect of going through life without Coop’s brand of insane magic that was depressing. Harry had felt that way even before, when Coop was about to leave before his suspension had delayed his departure, but now the feeling was magnified, because after everything they’d been together now, it was hard to imagine not having Coop around.

They arrived at the Double R, which was hopping with families eating out because it was Saturday in that prime brunch-time hour when ordering either breakfast or lunch was equally appealing. They sat in the same booth by the window where they had sat that morning when Harry had been so goddamned hungover and he had been teasing Coop about his cute little romance with Annie. It seemed like a year ago. Harry ordered bacon and eggs, Coop ordered ham and pancakes (and cherry pie, of course), and they both ordered black coffee (of course). Word about Ronette’s death had apparently gotten out, because Harry heard whispers of her name from several of the surrounding tables, and he glared at everyone who came by their table to dare them to ask about it. But they didn’t, mostly they just wanted to say goodbye to Coop, because word of his imminent departure had apparently also gotten out somehow. Major Briggs, who had been dining with his son, came over while Shelly was taking a quick break to canoodle with Bobby. He shook Coop’s hand enthusiastically, clapped Harry on the back, said something again about love conquering all, and then told Coop that if he ever wanted to leave the FBI there was a job in military intelligence for him. After that was Audrey and Ben Horne, who looked like crash-test dummies with Audrey’s broken arm and a large bandage on Ben’s forehead. Ben also shook Coop’s hand, told him he wasn’t charging the FBI for the broken mirror in Room 315, and wandered off. Audrey stayed behind a moment to roll her eyes and tell them that her father was still trying to be good, and then to flirt shamelessly with Coop for a few minutes. Coop stood up to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she almost danced away, blushing prettily. The next in the parade of well-wishers was Doc Hayward, who had been having a rather intense-looking conversation with Donna in a corner booth. He seemed to have been waiting for the Hornes to leave before coming over to their table. After a bit of small talk and some inquiries about the status of their injuries, the doctor got to the point.

“I did the autopsy on Ronette Pulaski this morning.” Harry glared at him, but too late.

“What did you find?” Coop’s expression was neutral.

“Cause of death was drowning. She had water in her lungs. No other injuries, no sexual assault.”

Coop nodded, and after some well-wishes and some admonishment for them both to get some follow-up care for their injuries, Doc Hayward left. Harry looked at Coop, trying to gauge whether he saw the same significance in the autopsy findings that he did, but Coop was just pushing the remainder of his ham around a syrup puddle with his fork.

“Coop,” Harry finally said. “Last night, Bob said that Ronette jumped off the bridge. She died by drowning. That means she must have gotten away from Bob.”

Coop took a sip of his coffee. “I agree that seems like the most likely scenario based on the available evidence.”

“It means she fought him,” Harry said, desperate to make Coop see the silver lining in this. “She was brave, like Laura, she wouldn’t let him take her. It means she could have made it to the White Lodge –”

Coop put down his fork. “Harry,” he said kindly. “I know you’re trying to find the right words to say to make me feel better, to fix me. But you can’t. This is something I’m going to have live with. This time, it’s something I have to do alone.”

“Not alone,” Harry muttered, staring down into his coffee. “You know I’m here for you, if you need to talk or – or if you need anything.”

“I do know that. And Harry, you don’t have to say anything. Because what you’ve done is incredible. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You saved my life, and my soul. My bodhisattva.”

Harry couldn’t come up with a reply to that, but Shelly came to his rescue by delivering Coop’s slice of cherry pie. Coop lit up, and Harry grinned back.

Much too soon, there was an insistent honking of a car horn from the parking lot in front of the restaurant. Coop rolled his eyes. “That’s Albert.” He went over to the glass doors and made a “wait a minute” gesture, which was followed by one more short honk that clearly communicated “hurry up.” Harry and Coop went up to the register to pay (Coop insisted on paying the bill). The Log Lady was sitting at the counter by the register drinking tea. Harry was afraid she would try to engage them in conversation, but she just stared at them while Shelly chatted away and insisted that Coop take an extra slice of cherry pie with him for the road, on the house. Coop thanked her profusely for all her great service, gave her a huge tip, and then stopped by the Log Lady as they headed for the door. Harry sighed. Of course, Coop was too polite to just walk by her without saying goodbye.

“Margaret,” Coop said, extending his hand to her. “It’s been a pleasure.”

She shook his hand gravely, then leaned in close as if confiding a secret. “Agent Cooper. Do you know what kind of tree my log comes from?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not very good at identifying trees. What kind is it?” Coop seemed genuinely interested in knowing.

“I don’t know,” she said indignantly. “That’s why I was asking you.”

Coop raised his eyebrows at Harry, who shrugged. There was another series of honks from the parking lot, to the effect of “what’s taking so long,” which provided a reasonable means of escape from the conversation. “Well, be sure to let me know if you find out,” Coop said. “Take care, Margaret.”

They exited the restaurant into the parking lot. The deluge from last night had subsided, but dark clouds still hung overhead threateningly, looking like they were psyching themselves up for another round. Albert had his rental car running, blasting Living on a Prayer on the radio, but he got out while Harry retrieved Coop’s luggage from his truck and put in the rental car’s trunk, next to a familiar clear plastic tub. “Is that –“ Harry asked Albert, who had come up next to him.

“The tarantulas,” Albert confirmed. “I’m keeping them.”

“Good.” Andy would be relieved that they were gone from the station. Harry did wonder how Albert planned on getting five tarantulas onto an airplane, but decided to let the mystery be.

“Well, Sheriff,” Albert said, closing the trunk. “It’s been mostly, but not entirely, unpleasant knowing you.”

“Right back at you, Albert,” Harry said, and stuck out his hand. Albert shook it, then pulled him into a surprise hug. Then he climbed back into the driver’s seat, leaving Harry and Coop on their own.

They hugged. That was all they could do, because words like “thank you” or “goodbye” or “see you later” were just wholly inadequate. The embrace lasted for a long minute, Coop digging his fingers into Harry’s shoulders, Harry cradling the back of Coop’s head. Then they pulled away, Coop smiled his million-megawatt smile, Harry managed to smile back, and Coop got into the car.

Harry watched the car turn out of the parking lot, heading west on the highway toward Snoqualmie Pass. Even after it had receded from view, he stood there in the parking lot for a few more minutes, just watching the world around him to see if he could recognize it. The bright glow from the restaurant interior shining through the fogged-up windows. The dripping water from the gutter downspouts drilling a hole into the gravel. The logging trucks rumbling down the highway. The mist clinging to the firs blanketing Whitetail Mountain. The hooting of an owl from the woods on the other side of the highway. It was all so wonderful, and so strange.