Twin Peaks: An Appeal of the Heart

Special Agent Dale Cooper was just returning to the Great Northern after a foray into the woods. He stood before the doors of the elevator, frowning slightly at the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. There was a gentle crease of concentration between his dark eyebrows as he pondered the facts of the day. The visit to Margaret's cabin had brought to light more questions than it had provided answers. Still, Agent Cooper felt it was a step in the right direction.

The doors, decorated with bold art particular to the natives of the Pacific Northwest, slid silently open for him, and he stepped aboard. As he rode the elevator to his floor, he carefully cataloged the day's experiences, cross-referencing newly acquired information with prior data. As he sifted through his mental filing cabinet, he tried to find a solution amongst the eclectic pieces. A pattern, he assured himself, would reveal itself to him upon further scrutiny and meditation. He just had to keep at it.

Walking slowly down the hallway on his floor, lost in thought, it dawned upon him that the air was silent. The vile Norwegians, with their unending unendurable singing, their carousing, and general negligence on the subject of common courtesy had been tormenting him for a total of three nights. But now, at this moment, there was a delightful silence. This was wonderful, and he imagined an expanse of undisturbed slumber spreading out before him like a ripple across the pool, with the promise, like a kiss, of feeling rested.

And at that very moment the voices picked up again in song.

Slowing at return of the unwanted yet all too familiar sounds, Agent Cooper raised out his arms in a gesture of helplessness and frustration. Momentarily his head tipped back with a feeling of defeat, and a grimace passed across his face. Opening his eyes he gave his hands a shake of disgust before continuing on this his room.

But when he came in sight of his room, all frustration vanished.

The door to his room, which he had meticulously locked as part of his morning ritual, was standing slightly ajar. Some had been, or still was, in his room.

Reflexively he backed away from the door, drawing his firearm. The singing Norwegians continued their ribaldry, and Agent Cooper hesitated only momentarily before silently pushing the door inwards and aiming his gun.

He was compiling a roster of possible visitors. Flicking rapidly through his cognitive filing system, he picked out the names of those who might have motive to interfere with either him or his investigation. Leo Johnson possibly, Jaque Reano also. Or perhaps is was someone yet unknown, the third man, Laura Palmer's true killer.

But as he moved into the room, his senses on high alert, he picked up something unexpected. The scent... of perfume. It was a subtle mixture of floral and musk, and a quality he couldn't quite put his finger on, perhaps something unique to the woman's skin. There was something oddly familiar, and powerfully enticing, about the smell.

Puzzled but unperturbed he took aim in the imperfect darkness at the figure sitting on his bed. Holding the muzzle of his gun level and steady with both hands, he spoke.

"Reach over and turn on the light."

Without a word the figure complied, reaching out to switch on the bedside lamp.

Audrey Horne came into brilliant focus as Agent Cooper's eyes adapted to the light. She was sitting in the bed, between the covers, her hair down. Her shoulders were bare, with a sheet pulled up to cover her chest.

Stunned, Agent Cooper slowly released his aim, allowing his elbows to fall and the barrel of the gun to point at the ceiling. His mouth opened in surprise, unsure what to say. Briefly he wondered if she was really, fully unclothed. And as he stood there, he became aware of several discomforting physiological facts. First, saliva had begun immediately to pool in his mouth in an anticipatory fashion, and there was an firey expanding feeling in his chest. Further, he noted that his pulse had quickened, and deepened, in an old familiar way. He had that heady, slightly dizzy sensation which indicated a readiness of his body for a fight... or something else.

This, thought Dale dryly, was not good.

Seeing the expression on Agent Cooper's face, Audrey felt her heart drop. He didn't look happy to see her. He usually smiled when he looked at her, that gentle stretch of his mouth, like he had a secret, something he was thinking but unwilling to say. That look put butterflies in stomach. It was that secret something in his smile that had made her so sure he wanted her.

She had watched that look slowly spread across his face the first morning she met him. He had been sitting in the dining room, ordering breakfast and sipping a black cup of coffee. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of him as she approached, and he had held her gaze in that level knowing way she had come to love. It made her feel light, and vaguely faint, as if gravity no longer anchored her securely to the floor.

But the look on his face was different tonight.

"Don't make me leave. Please, don't make me leave," she said, desperately grasping with hopeful fingers at the idea that his face would soften, that the smile would come back.

Dale's nostrils flared in response to her question, and his eyes were so fully dilated that he felt he was having trouble focusing them. Taking a deep if somewhat unsteady breath he looked away, and turning, he set his gun down on the hotel room desk. With his back to her and his palms planted firmly on its surface, studying the wallpaper, he asked, "Audrey, why are you here?"

Why was she there? She blushed thinking about the answer, feeling her deflated hopes withering further. Wasn't it obvious? This wasn't going to plan at all, and that fact upset her nearly as much as it stung her with disappointment.

He was supposed to have been surprised, but cautiously pleased.

"Audrey?" he would say, his voice a blend of confusion and hope.

"Hello Agent Cooper," she would say, "I've been waiting for you."

His eyebrows would rise then, before his face settled into that familiar secretive smile. "Audrey, you're a beautiful girl, but we hardly know each other."

"I know you well enough," she would say. "I know you're smart, and sweet, and everything I ever wanted, but never found before." She would get out of the bed then, revealing her body, offering it to him, as she approached.

"Audrey..." he would say, almost breathing it, transfixed by her approach.

"Agent Cooper... Dale," she would say, "I want you." She would cast her eyes down demurely then, for a moment unable to meet his gaze, and then say softly, "I want you to be my first." Then she would look up with a determined set in her jaw, and gauge his response.

"Are you sure?" he would say, softly, wanting to be a gentleman, but wanting to take her just as badly.

"Kiss me," was all she would say in response.

He would stand there, uncertain still and she would repeat the request, more forcefully, with greater urgency. "Kiss me."

At this moment the tables would turn, and he would close the distance between them with deliberate slowness, pulling the full length of her body against him, her naked skin against his neatly pressed suit. Then wrapping his fingers into her hair he would look into her eyes, silently seeking her consent, and then when her lips parted in anticipation, he would kiss her. It would be a long gentle kiss, one that built heat and momentum slowly, until he could no longer make himself kiss her slowly. Then he would kiss her hard, push her gently back onto the bed and rapidly undress. After that he would be on top of her, kissing her, holding her down, moving against her-

He repeated his question, his back still to her. "Why are you here?"

Jarred from her reverie, and feeling disappointment afresh, Audrey tried to answer. "I'm here because I wanted..." she trailed off, afraid to say it, "I wanted you to..." Finally she gave up and lapsed into silence, unable to say outloud what she so desperately wanted: I wanted you to make love to me.

He knew. He had already known, of course, he just wanted to be sure. Wanted to ensure this was not some sort of wacky misunderstanding with a perfectly reasonable explanation that he overlooked before jumping to the obvious conclusion. And yet, at the back of his mind Dale knew what he had really been asking for, what he really wanted to hear her say: that she wanted him. This was something he told himself he was not supposed to ask for. Not supposed to want to hear.

Moving, slowly, Dale came to sit on the corner of the bed opposite from Audrey, with his back to her. She shifted slightly in the bed, the movement of the covers sent a waft of her smell over him. It made everything worse. He couldn't stop the thoughts it provoked, and his muscles tensed as he braced against them.

He wanted to know what her mouth, so red and expressive, would feel like, pressed against his. What her skin would taste like, and what sort of sounds she would make when he pushed inside of her. His palms itched to feel the curve of her breasts, to cup them and to roll her nipples between his fingertips, or feel their taut muscularity with his tongue. Most of all, he wanted to know what her face would look like, how it would appear, contorted with the ecstasy of climax as he brought her to her full, and then again, and then again...

He could feel his will wavering and his body slipping into a higher gear, preparing itself. Squeezing his eyes shut he forced his breathing to even out, he drew with all his force upon his practice of yogic meditation to calm himself. "Audrey, you are a highschool girl. I am an agent of the FBI."

Audrey felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She tried to suppress it. She didn't want him to see her like this, crying like a baby. It was so unfair. "So do you want me to leave or what?" she asked, trying to put a tough edge into her voice, but even to her own ears she sounded shrill, disappointed.

Dale clung, tenuously but with determination, to his meditation, feeling himself teetering at the brink. Her tears were a double-edged sword. On one hand, they helped bring him back into focus. He had to remember that no matter how desirable she was, in many ways she was still just a girl, and very vulnerable. But on the other villainously seductive hand, they made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her, cast aside all restraint and make certain, emphatically, in every way possible and to the greatest extent of his abilities, that she had no reason for tears. It made him want to give her everything she came here seeking, and quite a few things more.

"What I want and what I need are two different things, Audrey," he said, still not looking at her, speaking more to himself than to her. He worried that he had already said too much. He did want her, wanted to do things with her she was indubitably not ready for, and it would not be fair. Under no circumstances could he allow himself to take advantage of her.

Audrey's eyes lit up and she took a quick surprised breath of air, feeling a knot form in her stomach. The good kind, the excited kind, like on the first drop of a roller coaster. He didn't want her to leave. She realized now that look on his face had signified struggle, not consternation. But why was he holding back?

Taking another breath, Dale forced himself to continue, "When a man joins the bureau he takes an oath to uphold certain values. Values that he's sworn to live by." He turned to the right to look at her as he spoke. She was so lovely that he had to look away again. "This is wrong Audrey," he said, shaking his head, "We both know it."

Looking at her had disordered his thoughts to an alarming degree. He kept repeating to himself that it was wrong, but the parade of thoughts and images continued unabated. Audrey, on her back with her legs wrapped around him, calling his name, raking him with her fingernails as she begged him for release, for more. Her fingers destroying his immaculately combed hair, as she greedily pulled his face down to kiss her. The sounds, oh the sounds she would make, as he skillfully played her like a beautiful instrument, crafted by a deity with a great appreciation for both the arts of love and music.

This is wrong. He bit down on his tongue to distract himself.

"But don't you like me?" Audrey asked.

Her question spurred him, causing him to look back at her dangerously. "I like you very much. You're beautiful, intelligent... desirable." He put a distinct emphasis on each word as be said it, then he hesitated, lost in her face, taking in the way her expression changed as the things he said hit home. He felt his throat tighten. "You're everything a man wants in his life." As he said this, he knew he meant it, felt it, but could not allow it for himself. He forced himself onwards. "But what you need right now, more than anything else, is a friend. Someone who will listen."

Saying this aloud finally made Agent Cooper feel better, safer. He felt the tide of lust ebbing, and he was back on solid ground, anchored there by the tender feelings his speech had evoked. It was important that he put her well-being first, before whatever desires he might have. Desires he could never allow himself to bring to fruition.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief which he proffered to her. She took it and delicately wiped her face with it. "Friends, huh," she said, looking up at him.

Agent Cooper nodded, and it brought a smile to Audrey's face. He smiled back. Not quite the secret smile, but it warmed her nonetheless.

While she was disappointed, and her pride wounded, she had learned something very valuable tonight: Agent Cooper was conflicted. And if he was conflicted, that meant there was a part of him that was on her side. A part of him that wanted her just as much as she wanted him. If she could find a way to strengthen that part, to galvanize it to action, then she would get everything she wanted. It made her happy to have him as a friend, it gave her a satisfied feeling of acceptance, but she wasn't going to let it go at that.

"Now I'm going to go down and get us two malts and some fries downstairs. Then I want you to tell me all your troubles," said Agent Cooper, feeling a sensation of relief spread over him. He was in the clear.

"That could take all night," rejoined Audrey, surprised.

"The night is young." Just like you. He thought wistfully about getting a good night's rest, but the Norwegians would ruin it anyway, and he was concerned for his young friend's frame of mind. Rejection was never an easy pill to swallow. Standing up with an air of finality he said, "Now I'm going to get the food ... and you're going to get dressed." This was, of course, for the best.

"I can't tell you all my secrets," Audrey said, thinking of one in particular.

"Secrets are dangerous things, Audrey," he said, placing his hands on the footboard of the bed, looking her square in the eye.

Yes, they are, she thought. "Do you have any?"

There was no hesitation when he gave his one word answer: "No." Nothing that should concern you.

Liar, she thought, noting the ease with which he did it. It made her admire him more.

"Laura had a lot of secrets," she said.

"Finding those out is my job," he said, and then with an air of determination, left the room.

Cooper 1, Audrey 0, she thought with a sigh as she slid from between the sheets and started to dress. But not for long. She smiled to herself, and let out a sigh. Next time she'd make sure he didn't know what hit him.

...

Audrey Horne was lying in bed, recovering from a drug overdose. She had been in and out of consciousness for several hours. Sheriff Harry Truman had gone home for the night, but Agent Dale Cooper and Doc Hayward remained in the Bookhouse, watching over her.

It pained Dale to see her like this, so pale, with dark rings under her eyes and her cheeks sunken. He stood there, holding his elbows, staring at her, willing her to health. Doc Hayward was sitting on the edge of the bed, removing a needle from her arm that he had used for a hydrating drip.

"She's coming around," the doctor said, cleaning and bandaging the puncture. "We should give her something to eat."

"Right on it, Doc," Dale said, moving quickly to the kitchen. He opened a can of soup and put it on the stove in a saucepan he found in one if the cabinets. As it warmed he stirred it to keep it from burning. He did these things mechanically, lost in thought.

He was thinking about Audrey.

When he first found her, found her alive, tied to a bed in a room in One Eyed Jack's, it was as if a hand had reached through his ribcage and then grabbed and strangled his heart. He had been flooded with such relief he nearly kissed her. She had been praying for him to come and save her, and the thought made him ache. How much sooner could he have saved her if he had only found the note sooner?

Testing the temperature and deeming it ready, he located a bowl and a spoon.

Returning to the bedside with bowl in hand, he found that the doctor had propped a wan but conscious Audrey up on pillows. Not all the way, but just enough to make feeding her possible.

"Found some chicken noodle," he said with false cheerfulness.

"Go ahead and feed it to her," the doc said, moving to make space for Dale.

Dale sat down beside Audrey, holding the bowl aloft.

"Audrey, are you hungry?" Dale asked, feeling silly for asking such a question.

Her eyes brightened and she nodded, but said nothing.

"Good," he said, smiling, but it was weak.

He lifted the spoon, laden to the brim with soup, to her lips. They parted obediently to admit the spoon, and she ate. Dale stared at her face every time he lifted the spoon for her, unable to stop himself from drinking her in with his eyes. It was though he had been drowning, and now Audrey, safe and recovering, was a full deep breath of air and sunlight after a long submersion. He couldn't get enough.

She ate the whole bowl of soup. Much like Dale, Audrey was mesmerized. Every moment she had spent at Jack's she had been waiting for Agent Cooper to come for her. Now that she was safe and he was here it felt like a dream. Her heart felt like it had expanded inside her chest to such an extent that it strained her ribcage. She didn't want it to end.

When she was done he helped to situate her so that she could sleep.

"Thank you," she said with a sleepy, contented smile, and drifted off into the realm of dreams.

In the next room, Doc Hayward and Agent Cooper discussed her condition.

"She's out of the woods, thank goodness."

"But?" Agent Cooper said in his ever-perceptive manner. "What is it?"

The doc sighed, and shook his head. "The problem is Cooper, aside from drugs, we don't know what they did to her up there." He gave Agent Cooper a significant look.

"You're worried she was raped," Agent Cooper said with a stern expression.

The doctor nodded in a forlorn way. "Yes. And time is critical for..." the doctor trailed off, but Agent Cooper picked up right where he left off.

"For collecting a rape kit," he said, matter of factly.

The doctor nodded again. "The drugs were my primary concern, and she's out of danger now. She's been through so much already, I was worried what it might do to her if I..."

"Say no more," Agent Cooper said, raising his hand, palm out. "If she was assaulted, we should collect a kit as soon as she's gotten some strength back. I consider Audrey a friend, so I'll talk to her. Hopefully it will be unnecessary."

He spoke in a staccato and businesslike tone, but it felt as though his insides had been ripped loose and set in a tumble dryer. He had considered this possibility, an ugly thought crouched at the back of his mind, but had been avoiding it while simply basking in the relief of her return and recovery. Now it had been brought to the fore and had to be addressed. "Doc, go home and get some rest. I'll stay and watch her. Harry will be back in the morning."