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She has kept her silence for quite some while, knowing that the pace of time that passes between Twin Peaks and Milliways, and between Milliways and the world of her birth, is slowed and slowed again by factors she cannot explain. Still, it is no small gift, in that it grants her space in which to think and plan.

The Aes Sedai has used that time to study her options and the prophecies of the Karatheon Cycle, to dwell on the sound of the wind at night and her restless unease with every dawn. She has mulled over what Nynaeve had told her, and all the possibilities that the apocalypse at the bar at the end of all worlds may now have brought upon them.

("I cannot go back without undoing what was done. Can I?"

"That, I think, is mostly a question of how far back, yes? Or possibly it is a different kind of forward.")

There are other considerations to be taken into account, as it happens.

Dinner has become a habit for them, now, at least once or twice every week. It is her turn to host tonight, in the little house that she had begun to call her own. Moiraine has come to believe that she will always prefer tea, but she has developed something of a fondness for coffee all the same, and has been trying her hand at new ways of brewing it for these occasions.

The French press stands before her now on the countertop, and she slants a sideways look at him as she reaches for the canister that holds the coffee.

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"I would call it more cyclical," she replies. "As the Wheel of Time turns, Ages come and pass and return again."

"Then why is it called the Last Battle?"

Moiraine just looks at him.

"Because if the Dark One wins, and destroys the Wheel of Time and the Pattern itself, there will be no more Ages, and the world and all its Mirrors will be forever lost."

She sets her coffee mug on the table, and smooths her skirt, carefully.

"Although interpretations have been known to differ. Ages have been known to end in climactic events before this. Many of the Brown, for instance, believe that such an instance should be considered a last battle, rather than Tarmon Gai'don in truth. Be that as it may, my point stands; should the Dark One win, everything will end."

Cooper nods, and drinks a little more coffee.

And says, thoughtful, "You wouldn't bring this up if you weren't planning something. Which means you think that action is necessary. Probably action taken by you."

"I have never told you of Min Farshaw and her visions, I do not think," Moiraine tells him. "Suffice to say that she has a gift that bears some relationship to Foretelling."

"She has seen that Rand will fail, if I am not there."

A quiet sigh.

"I had thought that perhaps the aid I gave him at Milliways would suffice, but I cannot now be certain."

"Do you know what you're going to do?"

Given Moiraine's past actions... her options may be limited.

"It depends."

Her dark-eyed gaze meets his.

"There is something I would ask you, first."

Might as well drink coffee to brace for impact.

"Guard, but not Warder," she murmurs. "And yet."

"If I should make an attempt to return in a manner unforeseen... would you come with me?"

That... is not what Cooper was expecting, at all. Some of that is betrayed on his face.

"In what capacity?"

She does not answer his question directly, not at first.

"I believe that I know you well enough now to say that your life has never been what others might call simple," the Aes Sedai murmurs. "Indeed, it could not be, in a sense, for you are not a simple man, for all that you have an appreciation for such things."

"Sometimes I wonder if my presence here has complicated your life more than what it might otherwise be..."

She glances sideways at him, and a faint smile curves her lips.

"... but I am also certain that you have considered such things long ago, and made your own choices and decisions in that regard."

Cooper inclines his head.

He respects her opinion; while he might not agree wholly with what she says, no one can say that Moiraine is unobservant.

"That's a fair conclusion to draw."

She nods.

"I will answer your question, Dale, you have my word, but first I must ask: why do you so clearly draw the line between what you have called guardianship and that which a Warder does?"

Cooper blinks, straightening. "Because you do." It sounds like it might be a question. "Being a Warder means something very specific to you, and it's not something that I am, or that I've ever been."

Dark eyes meet his.

"It could be."

It could be. And yet -- what little Cooper knows about the Warder bond includes the part where it involves a permanent connection between the minds of the Warder and the one warded.

And Dale Cooper has had a lifetime's worth of someone (or something) having access to his mind.

Something in Cooper's eyes suggests shutters drawn. But he speaks almost gently when he says, "It's not something that I am."

Her gaze never wavers, but she inclines her head in acknowledgement and acceptance.

"I suspected as much. It is why I have never asked."

That faint smile touches her lips again.

"Not because I have any less regard for you."

A sip of coffee. "I never thought it was, Moiraine."

She nods.

"As to your question, then... in the capacity of a guardian, and a friend, and a man whom I trust to watch my back, among other things."

A flicker of sorrow is apparent, but it does not stop her from saying what needs to be said. The stakes are once again too high.

"It is no easy request, Dale; believe me, that I know. If what I fear is true, and the crossing is successful, it will be war, and you have responsibilities here."

Her gaze is clear and direct.

"I will understand, if you decline."

The oath which he took upon becoming an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation involved swearing to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Cooper is fairly sure that the oath sworn upon entry to the armed forces is similar. But a lawman isn't a soldier.

"Before I decide -- " After a long moment. "I'd like more information. And... you should be aware of my own personal limitations. My marksmanship is something I'm rightfully proud of, I've participated in firefights, I can take part in covert operations -- but I'm not combat-ready, Moiraine, and I'd be worthless in an army."

"I do not think that my fight will be on that kind of battlefield," Moiraine says, quietly.

"From what Min saw, from what Lan told me before, from earlier conversations with Rand and from the ... answers ... I received to questions I bargained for and from the things I myself have been given knowledge of in a city elsewhere, I have reason to believe the part I may play will not be among the armies. Nor yours, should you choose to accompany me."

She pauses to lift her cup, take a sip of coffee, and then sets it aside with a firm finality and braids her fingers together, resting her hands in her lap as she faces him.

"Ask what you will. I will answer as openly as I may."

Which means, Cooper thinks, that the courteous thing will mean phrasing his questions carefully, in light of her particular strictures on speech.

"The basic question," Cooper says, "is what you think the part you'll play might be."

"In a sense, I expect it may not be all that different from what I have done before," she replies.

"I have served Rand al'Thor as advisor and sometime guardian, and now believe that I shall do so again."

"But you think that it would be a physically dangerous situation." Eyebrows raised. "Or else you wouldn't want a guard."

She does not smile, and her dark-eyed gaze remains steady on his.

"I believe that Rand's battle will be fought with the Dark One himself, on the very rocks of Shayol Ghul. And if he will have it so, I shall be at his side, or as close as may be."

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