Chapter Text
Harry Truman had no soulmate.
Harry still remembered the exact moment a young Will Hayward told him that he would not be receiving a soul mark– ever. There was a drip drip drip sound coming from the leaky tap in the room, the only noise that cut through the deafening silence. Later that evening his father had cooked them a lamb stew and put on a vinyl record to drown out the sound of his mother sobbing in her room.
His brother Frank had gotten his soul mark a few years earlier, ‘Doris' it said in big, loopy handwriting. Harry had been transfixed with it, his brother was lucky enough to have a small pink ambrosia flower formed by the side of her name. Pictures on soul marks were extremely rare. He hoped very much that he would also get an ambrosia flower too– his mother claimed it was the most romantic flower of all.
It usually took a few years for a mark to form fully but Frank's was almost complete in just 10 months. He remembered the way his dad had clapped his brother on the back, proudly announcing that Frank was an old, romantic soul like himself. Neither of the boys pointed out that ‘old, romantic souls’ do not cheat on their wives with the red-headed cashier at the pharmacy..
By the time big Ed, Hawk and Hank had their marks fully formed, Harry didn’t even have a scratch yet— just perfectly smooth skin on his wrist. His mother just smiled kindly and called him a late bloomer. He pretended not to notice her biting the fingernail of her thumb every time he brought it up.
Some people described the blooming of a soul mark as a mildly itchy experience, some people say it felt like cat scratches or a rash. Harry had felt a burning so intense that his father had to leave his job early to rush him to the hospital. When he awoke the next day, there was still no mark. When it happened the 2nd, 3rd and 4th time that year, there was still no mark.
His parents eventually took him to see a specialist. The doctor who had previously been all smiles and laughter looked down at his wrist bewildered. He had been required to visit the hospital once a month for extensive light treatment– to try and bring out the pigments of his soul mark. It was 3 years down the line when the doctors and out of town specialists had finally relented.
Harry Truman had no soulmate.
The news spread like wildfire and Harry became the talk of the town. The weight of the announcement became apparent to him when Ed's mother had come over the next day with a casserole and gave him a teary kiss on the head. The adults of the town started treating him like he was made of glass, acting as if he was diseased, terminal. For years he pretended he didn't notice the way they leaned in to whisper condolences to his parents.
Every now and then he could hear his parents fighting about him, his mother was wracked with guilt, always claiming it was their fault he had no mark. His parent's relationship was already rocky at best but this was the nail in the coffin. His mother became more and more withdrawn and absent from him until her untimely death just 3 years later.
Over three decades later, Harry just didn't care anymore.
He was past being known as ‘the man without a soulmate.’ It was no longer a novelty anymore. Anyone who already knew about the mark stopped caring years ago and it was generally still considered rude to ask to see someone else's mark– so it was not something he disclosed to strangers.
He was now better known by his new title Sheriff Harry Truman. And it suited him just fine. His new role now ascended far past being a defective child. Having no soul mark actually helped his application into the role. Having no soulmate meant having no weakness.
Years later, he sat on his desk, his mind wondering to Josie. Wondering what laid under the mark-wrap she wore tightly around her thin wrist. It was a common practice for unbonded people to cover up their mark for their lovers, it was polite. Harry was not Josie's soulmate, he knew that and it stung. But one night he had seen the wrap slightly slip to reveal a slither of a scar just under her palm.
—
Lucy walked indignantly past her booth, towards the exit of the station, shoulders held up high, fists clenched to her sides furiously. She was followed hastily by Dick, who brought along the scent of a heavily applied cologne as he scurried past their table and exited the station.
“Harry, now I am not one for idle town gossip.” Dale announced like he was stating a definitive fact. He sat opposite Harry in the reception, eating a take out order of cherry pie. “But I must indulge just this once…” He lifted his head and cautiously glanced over his surroundings like a meerkat. Then leaned forward over the small table between them, his voice barely above a whisper. “Lucy and Richard. Are they…” he lifted his brows suggestively hoping Harry understood his question.
Harry leaned in close. “Soulmates?” He quirked an eyebrow, inwardly amused by Dale’s over the top attempt at gossip.
“Yes. I was under the impression that Lucy and Andy were soulmates.”
“They are.”
“But Lucy and Richard are in some kind of a relationship..?”
Harry shrugged and took a bite from his own pie. “You don’t need to be someone's soulmate to sleep with them.”
Dale’s eyes widened a fraction and Harry did not know what surprised the man more. Was it the revelation that Andy was indeed Lucy’s soulmate or was it Harry's crude answer?
“Fascinating.” He tapped his fork against his lip as his eyes lit up. “So she has already found her soulmate but is choosing not to be with him?” He spoke quieter that time, as if affirming something to himself. “How odd.”
Harry was a little taken aback by that last comment. “Com' on, Coop. It's a little unconventional I guess, but people around these parts are...unconventional.”
Dale tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean by that?”
Harry had felt his heckles rise in defence of Lucy. But in truth, Dale was right to find it 'odd'. It was highly unusual for someone to take a lover once they had already found their soulmate.
He leaned in, keeping his voice low. “You know...” He looked pointedly at Big Ed who was leaning against Lucy's booth, talking to Hawk about a car repair. “Soul bonds clearly aren't as strong around here.”
Dale blinked for a moment before the realisation slowly dawned on him. “You are referring to Ed and Norma's relationship? He is married to Nadine, right? What happened there?"
Harry just shrugged "I don't know, man. But somehow Norma ended up with Hank on her wrist. Hank. I just think all that soulmark stuff isn't all it's cracked out to be.”
Dale’s eyes widened, understandably shocked that Harry could say something so controversial. “Harry, I must say, that is quite an unconventional opinion you have there.”
"Sorry, Coop. I shouldn't have said that." Harry gave a quick apologetic smile he didn't truly mean.
Dale was quiet for a moment and Harry began to worry the man was preparing himself for a speech on the importance of love and souls and all that jazz Harry didn't want to hear about.
“You know Harry, it's been quite an enlightening week in this beautiful town of yours. I don't think I've ever seen quite so many out-of-bond affairs happening in one place.” Dale looked over at him knowingly, something reassuring in his eyes. Dale hit the bullseye target in one throw.
“Exactly my point, Coop.” Harry said, feeling a little relieved. “It’s hard to believe in soulmates when you've grown up in this town. Everyone from dollar store clerks to goddamn priests is having an affair, but no one wants to address it.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“You think it could be something in the water? Or the hospital food? Or something in the air that just makes this town so..” he trailed off not knowing how to finish.
“Harry, I think it's just another mystery for us to solve.” He smiled and reached over to tap the end of his fork against Harry’s nose. “An unconventional town indeed.”
He gave Harry another knowing look and Harry wondered briefly if Dale already knew about his own blank wrist. Dale had never mentioned it before but it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that he had heard about it from one of the locals, probably a nosy gossip staying at the lodge with him.
Harry inwardly prepared himself for the barrage of questions that was bound to happen any minute now. But Dale said nothing. Just took another bite of his pie and smiled again.
-----------
3 days later they sat at the diner. It was already past 7pm and neither of them had time to eat earlier. The Palmer case was proving to be far more complicated than initially anticipated.
They had been steered back to the topics of soulmates once more– a young couple was outside the diner making a joyous commotion upon discovering their matching marks.
“So, Harry. Is your soulmate around?” Dale asked lightly through a bite of his food. It was a polite enough question, Harry assumed Dale probably already knew about his blank wrist.
Harry shrugged. “I don't have one.” He knew the script by heart, might as well not beat around the bush.
“You haven’t met your soulmate?”
“I don't have a soul mark.”
“Harry. That’s impossible.” Dale said dismissively, quirking his brow and not even looking up from his plate– blueberry pie this time.
Harry paused, taking in the man's demeanour. The other man gave no indication that he was joking.
Ah, so he didn't know yet.
Harry felt himself being overcome by a sense of mischief. These past few days, Dale had been absolutely tearing his reality upside down and side to side with his talk of psychic visions, teenage ghosts and dancing dwarfs. And he always expected Harry to keep up, to understand the world as he did– take everything in his stride like he wasn't saying things that warranted a psychiatric evaluation.
But now it was Harry’s turn to shatter Dale’s perception of reality.
“It’s not actually.” Harry smiled as he whispered and leaned over the table. He did a cursory glance to make sure no one saw him committing such a taboo act and quickly rolled up his sleeve and mark-wrap up. Baring his blank wrist for Dale.
Dale glanced down, mid-bite, fork still in his mouth. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed low, his expression warping into one of confusion, like he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes darted back and forth between Harry's face and his wrist.
Suddenly he swallowed his bite and his jaw dropped wide open. He dropped his fork, which Harry quickly caught before it clattered to the table.
“Holy smokes..” He looked up into Harry’s waiting face. His eyes were larger than he had ever seen them.
“Yep.” Harry said a little too smugly, revelling in the small amount of power he got from being able to catch the all-knowing agent off guard.
Dale brought his hand to his mouth, politely covering his shocked, open jaw. “Harry, the odds of not even having a single letter are astrono–”
“Coop. Don't you think I know that by now.”
“But that’s impos–”
“Right, and a giant taking your ring seemed more plausible to you.”
Dale clamped his mouth shut. He looked back down to his wrist, eyes darting around it. “The other– let me see the other wrist. Now please.” He suddenly demanded in the rare authoritative tone that he usually reserved for questioning the likes of Bobby Briggs and James Hurley.
The corner of Harry’s lip quirked and he made quick work of his other sleeve. He balled his hands and held both blank wrists together. “You gonna arrest me officer?” he gave a small chuckle through his own joke, growing increasingly pleased with the turn of events.
Harry raised his brow expectantly and was rewarded with the glorious sight of Dale Cooper looking helplessly lost–perhaps for the first time in his life.
“Oh…Oh my God..” He breathed quietly. He slid the pie to the side of the table and reached over to gently pick up Harry's hand with one of his own and brought it closer for him to inspect. He didn't take his eyes off Harry's unmarked wrist, absolutely mesmerised by the blank space. “May I?”
Harry knew what he was asking. To touch his skin.
Dale seemed too stunned to remember his manners, to remember that this was a public setting– and that touching someone's wrist was considered immensely taboo. But Harry could see his curious nature was taking over his reasoning. His eyes were lit with the clinical fascination he had when inspecting a piece of evidence. Harry knew Dale was a tactile person, when he sees something– he grabs it. He wanted all the puzzle pieces in his hands.
Harry knew he should politely say no– he knew Dale wouldn't be mad or embarrassed by the rejection. In the past Harry had let people touch it. Most people assumed he wasn't sensitive there because he had no mark. Maybe that’s what Dale assumed too.
But at this age, he usually declined– choosing his own comfort over people’s curiosity. He usually reserved that honour for lovers and he still had not reached stage with Josie yet. She had seen it of course, but had not touched it once.
He should say no but Dale’s thumb was absently stroking the back of palm and Harry couldn't form a single coherent sentence other than, “Sure, knock yourself out man.”
Dale wasted no time, he held Harry's hand a little tighter and brought his other hand over to Harry's wrist and very lightly ghosted his index finger across the width of Harry's wrist.
It felt electrifying, like nothing he ever felt before. Almost like Dale's finger was vibrating. The touch reminded Harry of the strange static that appeared on television screen. Dale then bought his whole hand over, using all 4 of his fingers to firmly graze Harry’s wrist. Dale kept his gaze down on their hands, his eyes full of wonder and awe. “It's real.” He murmured so quietly Harry almost didn't hear him. “There's no scar.”
He always hated the next part to come– the part where people usually trip over themselves to offer sympathy with tight smiles and scrunched brows. Some people acted with downright disgust. He still ached when he remembered how a young woman in his university dorm room had hastily tipped her drink on him and sneered ‘freak’ as she rushed out of the door.
Josie herself had probably responded the kindest really, with a quick sharp 'That's nice.’ Trying her hardest to bury her surprise by pressing her lips together into a tight smile. Harry thought it had been the language barrier that was preventing her from expressing her true feelings on it as he could see the look of unease on her face.
“Harry.” Dale breathed. There was no hint of pity or even sadness in his voice. He looked straight into Harry’s eyes, looking at him with reverence and awe. “You truly are one in a million.”
And everything tilted. For the first time in Harry’s life, someone wasn't reacting with a swathe of tears and pity– mentally assigning Harry to a life of misery and loneliness.
Dale had just unknowingly just soothed something that has been bent out of shape in Harry’s heart for the most of his life. It was the kind of acceptance he had always craved, the kind he had desperately wanted from his friends, his lovers, Josie. The kind he never received from his mother all those years ago.
Harry felt his own breath stutter in his throat. This is not how he expected this to go. He sat still for a while, not knowing what to say, enjoying the feeling of the other man's slender fingers sliding across his skin. Harry gave a sheepish smile and quickly looked away from the agent. There was something more in Dale’s eyes, something more than acceptance, it was affection and it hurt Harry to see how easily it could be given to him.
“Could I get you boys some more coffee?” Norma appeared beside them, coffee pot in hand.
They both startled, suddenly flung back into reality, quickly withdrawing their hands to themselves. Harry was surprised when he looked up to see Dale was ducking his head low bashfully, clearly embarrassed. Harry didn't have a chance to linger on the cute nature of the action as his mind was on full alarm that he pulled his wrist out in public.
“Sorry Norma.” Harry whispered, hastily rolling up his sleeves. “We– I was jus–”
She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and smiled kindly down at him in a way that almost reminded him of Dale. “It's, okay Sheriff.” She leaned over and filled their coffee mugs without saying another word.
They sat there in a comfortable silence after that, letting the warmth in the air linger around them. Harry’s heart racing in his chest.
----------
1 week later.
Harry rounded the desk and immediately dropped down into his chair, he pressed his fingers against his eyes and hunched over the table. Dale followed him moments later with 2 mugs of coffees in hand.
“I could very easily drink both of these mugs, I'm just so darn tired.” Dale smiled as he perched on Harry’s desk, sliding a mug towards him.
“How’d you think you would fair in a fight? You’d have to wrestle this coffee from me.”
Dale chuckled heartily. “Probably not very good to be honest. Ed was regaling your glory days playing football, I wouldn't be so foolish to go up against Twin Peaks former star quarterback.”
Harry chuckled too and then lifted his mug up in a mock toast. Dale gently clinked his mug against his and they both smiled behind the rim of their mugs as they took the first sip. They sat quietly for a while, both letting the harrowing events of the day settle.
After about 5 minutes of a comfortable gentle silence, Dale leaned forward slightly, looking down at Harry more intently. His eyes flitted over his form before settling on his bare forearms. Harry had rolled up his sleeves and mark-wrap a few minutes ago, comfortable to have his wrist bare in Dale’s company now. Dale’s gaze roamed up to his elbow and back down to his hands. His lips were parted slightly and his brows slightly raised in a question. Harry felt something flutter in his stomach at the attention.
“You need something, Coop?’
“Could I ask you a personal question, Harry?”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Does it ever bother you?” He looked pointedly down to his wrist. “Not having a soul mate.”
Harry paused before answering, he should have known the agent wasn't done with his mark yet. Harry gave a light shrug, answering honestly. “It used to, not really anymore.”
“Not really?” He tilted his head.
“I mean, of course I'm not happy with it. But I've made my peace with it.” He took a sip from his mug again, he could see Dale’s eyes squint a fraction, trying to find his own answer on Harry's face. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, urging Harry to continue. “I guess sometimes I worry about retirement y’know. Obviously marriage and kids seem pretty unlikely for me. Why would anyone want an unmarked man over their real soulmate? All my girlfriends leave me. Josie will have to leave me too one day.” He paused for a moment before adding quietly. “I guess sometimes I worry if I'll be lonely in my later years.”
Harry was pretty sure he had never voiced these thoughts out loud to anyone. This was probably the most honest he had been with his feelings in a long time, and he didn’t even feel embarrassed to verbalise them right now. His friendship with Dale had bloomed into something special, he knew Dale would never cast any judgment on him.
“Do you know how weird it is that my brother Frank feels too awkward to talk about his wife and son around me? That’s my nephew and sister in law. I barely know anything about them. I know he has some kinda guilt that he got his early, with a picture and everything and..I got nothing.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“You can see why, there's not much to say about him anymore.”
Dale looked into his mug and huffed a short huff of air. “That’s understandable, I worry about the retirement thing myself.”
It was Harry’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “You have a mark, right?”
“Yes. I’ve just not had any luck finding my soul mate.”
Harry was surprised to hear that. Dale must have been in his mid-thirties by now, most people meet their mate in their early twenties, at the latest. “Is it a common mark?”
“Very.” Harry knew that sometimes people with common names are harder to find. There are many stories with people ending up with the wrong person who happened to share the same name. Harry pondered what names were considered common. Elizabeth? Mary? Annie? Deborah– there were 3 Deborahs in his school growing up. Harry was a common name.
“Harry I know these probably sound like empty words, but I truly believe there is someone out there for you.” Dale put a hand on his shoulder. “Call it intuition. I can feel it when I look at you. It's a fact. A man like you will get it all one day.”
Harry smiled at him, believing the sincerity in his words.“Thanks man.” He reached hand to gently pat Dale’s one on his shoulder. He felt warmed by the fact that Dale didn't seem to think he was unlovable.
Dale looked down at him with an unreadable expression. He reached over Harry’s desk and plucked a pen from his pot. “Harry, I propose a pact.” He announced in the same grandeur tone he used to announce all his eccentric ideas.
Harry raised a brow. “A pact?”
“Yes. If neither of us are married by 65, let's marry each other."
Harry stared at the man as if he had grown a second head. “What?”
“I’m serious. That's a good retirement age, I'll pack up and come back to Twin Peaks. This way, neither of us will be alone when we’re old.”
He gave a short disbelieving laugh. “We’re both men, we can't get married.”
Dale just shrugged. “We’ll just be together then– someone to watch tv with, someone to take out to dinner, someone to get a dog with. It doesn't have to be romantic, we don’t have to kiss or have sex.” He stumbled the last word subtly. “We’ll be partners.”
Harry was quiet for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Coop… you have a soul mate out there already.”
“Well I'll come back here regardless. If I have a family, I'll bring them over too. And you and I will still get a dog together.”
Harry laughed in disbelief. “You can't be serious.”
“I’m always serious, Harry.” He smiled down goofily, tapping the pen. “Where would you like your mark?”
“What?”
“I would like to give you a soul mark if you don’t mind. To seal the pact.”
Harry shook his head amusedly and handed over his unmarked wrist before changing his mind and swapping to the other one. “Sorry I'm ticklish there.”
Dale paused for a beat. “You’re still sensitive on your wrist? Even with no mark”
“Yeah most people don't usually believe me but it does tingle sometimes, just like a normal marked wrist I guess.”
“Fascinating.” He looked down at his wrist in wonder. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day. I thought I felt some sort of tingling but I assumed that was from me.”
“Huh, I didn't know you felt that.” Harry tried wracking his brain to remember if that had happened before. “It's alright man.”
Dale just smiled at him and brought his wrist to his lap. He leaned over and uncapped the blue pen with his teeth. Harry had to resist the urge to yank his arm back as the ball point pen tickled his wrist skin. Harry didn't look down to wrist as Dale began writing, his eyes were captivated by the intense focus on Dale’s face–clearly he was taking this very seriously. After some odd loopy flourishes, Dale pressed the pen back to his teeth to cap.
“There, all done!” He beamed proudly.
Harry scooted forward and was surprised to see no writing at all. It was a very poorly drawn picture of a fish, the type of fish a third grader would draw. He was interested to see that the fish was surrounded by some odd swirls. He turned his wrist to give himself a better look and was extremely amused by the fact that Dale had given the fish an eye and a sideways smile.
“It’s a fish?”
“Excellent deduction, Harry. I’m pleased you managed to arrive at that conclusion from what is essentially a triangle attached to an oval.”
Harry smiled at him. “No, it definitely looks like a fish. What are the little swirls?”
“Admittedly, I'm not sure….” He traced over the swirls languidly with his fingertip. “I just let the pen do some of the thinking. Perhaps it represents the rapid tides of life. Or perhaps it represents the different things you have experienced..the experiences you will bring to me when we connect.”
Harry blinked. “That’s oddly poetic for a drawing of a smiling fish.”
“It’s a smiling salmon actually. See, it's swimming up North.” He smiled down at the picture as he traced his finger going up to the inside of Harry’s elbows. “It’s just as you said to me before, the salmon swims upstream back to the place it was born, to find a mate. This will be us making our way back to Twin Peaks where our friendship was born.”
Harry was not sure what was happening here. Harry felt a lump forming in his throat at what was essentially a poorly-drawn scribble on his arm. Of course Dale would take such a childish activity so damn earnestly. It touched him so profoundly, he wasn't sure if he had ever received such a sincere sign of affection in his whole life.
“Coop.” His voice came out thick. “I–I don't have the words to express what this means to me.” How could he tell him that he had been dreaming of having a mark since he was 8? How could he tell him that not one friend or lover had ever given something this special? How could he tell him that he desperately wished this was a real mark?
“So you like it?” Dale’s eyes lit up and he smiled warmly down at his work.
“I do, Coop. I like it alot.” He wasn't kidding. It was whimsical, logical, heartfelt–this mark, it was just so…Dale. From the cryptic swirling patterns to the big smile, it encapsulated everything Harry began to adore about the man.
“Thankyou, Harry.” He smiled a touch softer, pressing the pen in Harry's hand. “Your turn now.”
“Do you want me to try and duplicate what you’ve drawn? I’m not sure I can replicate these scratchy pen marks.”
“No, I think it's best that this comes from your own soul. Harry, I think I would like you to draw your very best rendition of a salmon, please.”
“Alright, but no peeking until I'm done.” He held Dale’s wrist steady in his left palm and carefully began drawing with the right. He was going to draw the best damn salmon in his whole life. He didn't use the method of a circle body and a triangle tail like Dale used, instead drew the fish as accurately as he could manage. He drew sleeker proportions and added the accurate amount of fins.
Dale didn't seem to mind that this was taking far longer than his one did, he happily hummed to himself as he drummed his other hand on the desk.
After adding the last bit of shading Harry proclaimed “There, done! Actually..one more thing…” he hastily added a smile to the fish and then placed the pen on the table. “Now it's done.”
Dale brought the wrist to his face so he could see it properly and Harry felt jittery waiting for his response. Dale’s eyes widened and he looked down at Harry in disbelief. “Harry! Did you draw this?”
Harry couldn’t stop the laughter that immediately bubbled out at the bizzare question. “Coop, what do you mean? You just saw me do it. I was holding your hand..”
“I can't believe this is real, Harry.” He began tracing around the fish. “You never told me you were an artist.”
“Because I'm not an artist. I just liked drawing animals when I was younger. I wanted to be a vet before my dad pushed me into this.”
“Well you’re not wasted as a Sheriff. But you also wouldn't have been wasted as a vet or an artist either.” Dale smiled, Harry could see his eyes had become somewhat teary.
“Do you like it?”
“That would be an understatement. It’s absolutely beautiful.” He breathed.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he felt his cheeks go warm. He sheepishlily smiled as he scratched the back of his neck. “It's nothing special, but I wanted to try.” For you he nearly added.
Dale looked affronted. “Nothing special? Harry, this is the most special thing I have ever received in my life. I love it.” He reached forward and jostled Harry's shoulder. “Truly, I do.”
Harry placed his hand over Dale’s one and just held it on his shoulder. Harry smiled at him softly, feeling like something truly precious was blooming here.
“Well, now. I guess that means you're stuck with me.” He tried not to sound too hopeful. “I guess I'll see you in what…25 years then?” He held out his hand for him to shake.
“It’s a deal.” Dale grinned so brightly as he shook his hand, Harry knew he would remember this day for the rest of his life. “Harry, if no one else claims you first, I get to have you.”
And for a moment it almost felt like Harry Truman had a soulmate.