blue_ajah | (no subject)

[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?"

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"I had thought to begin my new work by collecting stories of this town and its people," she says, perhaps misunderstanding him.

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.

There's no mistaking it, no. Perhaps especially not if you're Dale Cooper. Not in this town, in this place.

"Vandene."

It's a question, a mild one.

"Vandene--"

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."

"A friend," he echoes, knowing how rarely Moiraine bestows the phrase; knowing also that the past tense is part of no word that is not true.

"You had several things in common."

"Once," she agrees.

"And then..."

"I have not seen her since before the series of events that first brought me to Milliways," Moiraine says, very steadily.

"She will have believed me dead, after that. Most did, and still do. It was necessary that it be so."

A pause.

"I suppose it only fair, in a sense, that I now endure what she likely felt, then."

Cooper shifts on the bench and exhales, long and slow.

"That implies," he says, "that you think you owe a debt."

She shakes her head.

"No. It is not the sort of thing that could be repaid, in any case, and so. Consider it more of an acknowledgment."

A small, wry smile.

"All things are part of the Pattern."

"Maybe." Cooper shakes his head. "But I don't believe it keeps score, Moiraine."

"Perhaps not." She shrugs, very slightly. "Be that as it may."

"Vandene is happy now, Light willing, sheltered together with Adeleas in the Creator's palm."

"And you're not."

Dark eyes meet his, and hold.

"I was offered that choice, Dale."

She says no more; her presence speaks for itself.

A very small smile. His glance goes back to the gazebo.

"Should I ask why you're here?"

"If you wish," Moiraine replies, perfectly composed.

After a long moment:

"I don't think I ought to question a good thing."