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[After this.]
When she returns from Milliways, Moiraine does not stay in the apartment for any longer than it takes to cross the room and walk out the front door. Two minutes later, she is gliding down the street at a brisk pace.
All things considered, it does not take her that long to reach the sheriff's station. Lucy blinks in surprise upon seeing her.
"Hi Moiraine -- are you looking for Sheriff Truman? I mean, probably you are, since this is the sheriff's station and all, and you haven't come by just to visit before, but I don't think he's here, or at least he wasn't here before, unless of course he came back while I was making another pot of coffee and is here now, in which case he is here, and if he is here, he'd be back in his office--"
"No, thank you, Ms. Moran-- Lucy," the Aes Sedai amends hastily, as Lucy opens her mouth again. "As it happens, I am seeking Dale Cooper; do you know where he might be found at present?"
"Well, he might be here too, except I don't think he is, unless--"
"Do you have some means of locating him?"
Mere moments later, the dispatch radio crackles to life.
"...Agent Cooper?"
When she returns from Milliways, Moiraine does not stay in the apartment for any longer than it takes to cross the room and walk out the front door. Two minutes later, she is gliding down the street at a brisk pace.
All things considered, it does not take her that long to reach the sheriff's station. Lucy blinks in surprise upon seeing her.
"Hi Moiraine -- are you looking for Sheriff Truman? I mean, probably you are, since this is the sheriff's station and all, and you haven't come by just to visit before, but I don't think he's here, or at least he wasn't here before, unless of course he came back while I was making another pot of coffee and is here now, in which case he is here, and if he is here, he'd be back in his office--"
"No, thank you, Ms. Moran-- Lucy," the Aes Sedai amends hastily, as Lucy opens her mouth again. "As it happens, I am seeking Dale Cooper; do you know where he might be found at present?"
"Well, he might be here too, except I don't think he is, unless--"
"Do you have some means of locating him?"
Mere moments later, the dispatch radio crackles to life.
"...Agent Cooper?"
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Cooper takes his time.
"How do you feel about hearing this?"
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"Overwhelmed, I suppose would be the best way to put it. It is... difficult to grasp, although I have begun to do so."
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I know dreams for dreams. This is reality.
For several long seconds, silence is her only answer.
When the price is high, that is how you know it is worth paying.
"It does not really matter, does it?" She glances back up, meeting his eyes. "There is much to be done, of course. Even so -- I can never return."
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"It matters to me."
He says this with a faint, faraway smile; his eyes are on the gazebo in the center of Upper Twin Park, and the pond beyond.
"It might matter to you, to have someone who -- knows what this means, not just for where you came from, but for you. Especially because you can never return."
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"Ninte calichniye no domashitsa," she says, very softly.
Very, very softly.
"I thought that you might --" Moiraine breaks off there, and tries again. "You will have guessed that there was a reason I came seeking you, Dale. I asked for you, because I trusted that you would come."
"And I needed... not to be alone with this knowledge, not just now."
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He's not guessing why she called: he doesn't have to. There isn't anyone else -- Harry, certainly, Harry who is steadfast and kind and ruthlessly creative; Harry who works best when you can meet him on his own level.
This goes a little beyond the pale.
Milliways presents its own challenges. Its own temptations.
Cooper exhales again, and straightens, feeling the wood press against his back. "Do you want to talk about it more?"
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The question is out before he's thought about it too much.
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"What do you mean?"
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"There will be time to find out more."
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"That's a good thing. That there's time."
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Her answering smile is slight, but real.
"Thank the Light."
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He lets himself take a few seconds to enjoy it.
And also -- to let Moiraine assemble any thoughts. It's an old technique: remain silent, and what people say to fill the vacuum says more than they might think.
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"And peace, as well."
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Somewhere, in the quiet, a bird calls.
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A good two minutes later.
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Or perhaps not.
"Pete Martell, for one, has been very encouraging of the idea that someone might write a history of Twin Peaks."
A pause, as she looks down at her ring once more.
"Vandene would approve, I think."
Despite her accustomed control in manner and tone, there is no mistaking the timbre of grief, of loss, in her voice.
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"Vandene."
It's a question, a mild one.
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She wills her voice not to break, with some success, but the slight catch is still audible.
"She was a sister. Of the Green."
A pause.
"An historian, in her way, for all that she did not choose Brown. And a friend."
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"You had several things in common."
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