#apparently interacting between mobile and PC obliterates my formatting and moves shit around

[bonegender]

Nighthawks

This is for the @countdowntotwinpeaks WONDERFULXSTRANGE Secret Exchange! This fic specifically was made for @cerealninjakat who asked for Dale Cooper and Laura Palmer having coffee together. They have a feeling they met before, or maybe they haven't. If you would like to see the original fic in its original color block formatting, there is a link to the doc HERE

CONTENT WARNINGS: CSA mention, Underage Sex mention, Main Character Death Implied, Timeline Divergence, Body Horror, Psychological Horror

The smell of coffee was pungent, and stinging. That acidic aroma which rose from an industrial maker practically took over the entire diner. As he stood in the breezeway, Cooper relished in the scent so familiar,  so calming and inviting. He allowed himself to get lost in the way it mingled with the undercurrent of a greasy spoon breakfast. The rich, sharp scent of roasted beans mellowed out with the introduction of butter, eggs, toast and bacon. Beyond that was the wispy trails of cigarettes gone by that clung to the nostrils. It was utterly invigorating. This was the thing he looked forward to the most when waking up; a nice hot meal and hopefully, a good cup of coffee.

Dale Cooper returned to himself after his momentary journey on the Smell Express, and realized that he had been standing in the entrance of the diner for a little bit longer than he anticipated. He excused himself, pressing further on into the establishment, eager to find a seat. His stomach whined, just as eager to be filled with the sensory journey he had gotten lost in just moments ago. He knew how good it would feel to have a stomach full of America’s Finest, especially after a long night of work. He deserved it, he told himself. All he had to do was just find himself a seat.

Judging by the morning rush, that was a job easier said than done. All of the booths had been taken up, understandably, by families and couples.  There were a few like himself that simply wanted some time alone; to distance themselves from the rest of the patrons. There were times, however, that he couldn’t help but feel guilty for taking a whole booth as a single occupant, but Cooper always had an excuse at the ready. No one could say he wasn’t waiting for someone. No one could say whether or not  that someone never arrived, and therefore left him to enjoy his meal all alone. Regardless, there would be no reason for such excuses that morning, it seemed. He would just have to see if there was a seat at the bar.

Miraculously, there was. Sitting all by her lonesome was a girl - no, a young woman - of at most eight-teen years of age. She sat, cross-legged, painted nails tapping the surface of the diner bar-top as she mulled over the colorful menu full of delicious pictures of food. Her golden blonde hair curled around her face and shoulders, almost creating a makeshift halo around her head. Lost in her thoughts, she twirled her index finger in her locks only to tuck some of her strands of hair behind her right ear. She knew she wanted a cup of coffee since it was in the morning just before school, but she was having a hard time deciding what, and if, she actually wanted something to eat. The buzz from last night still clung to her insides, and the burn in her nose could be felt all the way to the back of her throat. 

It was then that she noticed someone approaching her. Laura turned her head, bringing her torso with it as she looked at the oncoming presence. The motion caused her hair to sway, knocking it loose from the ear she had just pinned it back with. Her blue eyes locked onto the man and in an instant what hackles she was about to raise softened. This man wasn’t too bad to look at, and his smile could beat the sun out in a competition for the brightest thing that morning. She adjusted her posture, leaning back a little and offering her own smile in return.

“Good morning.” She said, voice slightly raspy from just having woken up not too long ago.

“Good morning to you, miss.” He said in return, voice smooth and dark like a hot cup of coffee.

“Laura.” She insisted, tucking her hair back behind her ear from where it had fallen out, “My name is Laura.”

“Dale Cooper.” He said, placing his hand on the empty bar stool beside her, “Laura, is it alright if I sit next to you?” 

“Sure thing Mr. Cooper.” And with that, Dale Cooper sat next to Laura Palmer at the diner bar. Something about it felt strange, yet familiar. It was almost dreamlike the way their exchange had went. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but there was something disquieting about their meeting. Perhaps it was the shift in her body language, or the way she fidgeted with the hemline of her tweed skirt. 

“It’s Agent Cooper, actually.” He spoke up, pulling his eyes away from her kneecaps. He reached inside of his comically large trenchcoat to pull out his official badge, “Special Agent Dale Cooper, at your service.” 

It took everything in Laura’s body to keep her from letting out a laugh. Special Agent? Was this guy really part of the FBI? A very real look of ‘oh shit’ graced her eyebrows as he actually produced a badge and identification. He offered it to her, and as she took it in her hands to feel it over and look at the picture, Dale took the opportunity to sit down and make himself comfortable. Laura studied the photo and sure enough the overgrown boy scout was set right there next to her. Despite her best efforts, she did let out something of a breath of laughter as she handed back his badge.

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Special Agent.” Cooper laughed. What a nice laugh it was, thought Laura. A laugh that made you want to put your walls down. A laugh that felt like a childhood friend.

The two patrons settled in together at the diner bartop. Cooper took off his oversized overcoat and folded it gently so he could tuck it onto his lap for safe keeping. He looked far more professional with that silly thing off, Laura mused to herself. The way his suit was tailored perfectly to his shape almost made him look like a cartoon depiction of an FBI agent. A true Man In Black, with slicked back hair and serious brows. Well, mostly serious. Agent Cooper’s brow was a bit furrowed as he stared at the menu, but otherwise this man didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

That, or a very vulnerable teenage girl. 

“What makes you so special, Special Agent?” Laura probed, placing her manicured hands flat on her menu. 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Laura.” Cooper said rather matter-of-factly. He then flagged down a member of the waitstaff, ordering a coffee to buy himself more time with the menu, “But what I can tell you is that it’s very special.” A mischievous grin smoothed along his lips, and that alone was good enough for Laura. At least for now. 

Beyond his smile however, the special agent felt that persistent air of uncertainty. Did he know her from somewhere? Was she a missing persons case? He tried to get a better look at her without pointedly staring, but that was a rather difficult feat when you were mere inches from another person. His dark brown eyes watched as Laura brought her gentle, delicate, and soft hands around the slightly yellowed ceramic coffee mug. He followed the movement from the bartop, watching almost in slow motion as the white touched the healthy pink of her lips, which was topped with a thin veneer of lip gloss.

The air is heavy with the must of ancient, blood-red curtains. It almost suffocates. Were it not for the grand expanse of zig-zag, black and white flooring, the room would for sure be practically inhabitable. He swallows. He grips the arms of a black velvet arm chair. He squints from the harsh, unyielding light that surrounds him. There is music in the air. A saxophone breaks out against the stifling aura in an attempt to rouse him. Where is he?

A woman sits across from him. Blonde. Beautiful. Bewildering. He knows her. She knows him. Like a ghost, she crosses the floor to embrace him. Her lips: red. Her touch: gentle and familiar. An old friend. She smells of a perfume older than her. He closes his eyes as their lips meet.

The two of them stared at each other, confused. Something had just happened that they had no control over. What was that just now? They asked each other the question with only their eyes. Was it real? 

Whatever it was, Laura kind of liked it. Maybe they were just thinking the same thing? Maybe he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Her cheeks flushed with color as she remembered the touch from just moments ago. This wouldn’t be the first time she had made a bad decision with an older man, and at least this one seemed much nicer than the others.

Cooper on the other hand turned away. He closed his eyes as he focused on the smell of coffee and the din of restaurant chatter. He gripped the fabric of his trousers, trying to remember the heavy air from that place so strange. Was it a vision? Why had Laura been there? What made them act that way? At this point he knew she was much too young for him to be sharing such intimate touches with her. He knew that she was thinking about this all in an inappropriate light. He had been there, in her shoes, when he was younger. Hot, young, eager to make stupid decisions just to feel something. Eager to mess with others' lives to take back some sense of control.

They were never really in control, were they?

“Hey, it’s okay.” Laura spoke, thus breaking the tension between them ever so slightly. Her smile took the spot of the brightest thing in the room, her eyes soft and understanding, “I get stared at by tons of guys. I’m kind of used to it by now.” It was true. Laura knew she was beautiful. She got compliments all the time on her looks, her hair, her smile. It was not a wonder how she became prom queen. Everyone in the town seemed to love her, or at the very least envy her. She wasn’t quite sure why anyone would envy her, but then again no one really knew who she was. No one in the town, save for those she dealt with, really knew what kind of girl she was. 

Please, she thought, please like me. You’re one of the few people I want to like me.

Cooper dared to look at her once again, the shame of images from moments past still lingering on his mind and on his lips. His dark brows furrowed, mouth drawing to a stern line as he gingerly shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” He started, looking her square in the eye. “I don’t know what came over me. My behavior was inappropriate for someone your age, and someone my age should know better.”  The agent looked around the diner, hoping that maybe there was another place he could move to. He knew what just happened between them was a faux pas, and perhaps the only way to make up for that was to put some distance between them. It wasn’t her fault, none of this was, but there was something awfully wrong about this whole interaction. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of the lingering premonition. Was it a premonition? 

Laura’s stomach practically lurched. Had she done something wrong? There was no shame in looking at someone beautiful, right? Whatever happened moments ago was okay so long as she liked it, right? So long as she actually wanted it? As Cooper looked away, she bit her bottom lip with anxiety. He was going to leave her. She desperately wanted him to stay. For whatever reason, her heart ached at the very thought of having to sit by herself again. Fueled by the sinking feeling of rejection, the young woman reached out to the Special Agent. Her slender hand wrapped neatly around the wrist of his left hand and in an instant the diner disappeared.

The roles are reversed. His hand is around her wrist. Beneath her fingernail lies an important clue. She’s lying down on a table, naked and cold. The light above them flickers and Sheriff Harry Truman sits to her right. Where was she? Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she breathe? She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Suddenly, it’s very dark. She’s walking through the woods by herself, late at night. She’s crying, and alone. Was she crying from her vision before? Or was it something yet to come? All she knows is that she wants to go home. She wants to be in her bed, safe from the situation she found herself in. How was she supposed to know where anything was, let alone her home?

“We’re going home.” He says, his face full of determination. She doesn’t understand, but he must know. Cooper’s hand is outstretched, begging for her to take it. The tips of his fingers touch the inside of her palm.

Just as she is about to give up, she sees him. Special Agent Dale Cooper. What was he doing here? Why did he look so old? Why did she trust him?

She screams.

It took a few seconds for them to realize that they were both standing.  Tears were streaming down Laura’s face as she finally came to her senses. Her hands instinctively flexed, curling and unfurling before taking her palms to wipe away the remaining tears from her cheeks. Her cheeks were now flushed with embarrassment as she knew they were making complete fools of themselves in front of so many people. What had gotten into her? Why was she acting like this? What were those visions? Tentatively, Laura dared to look around at the other people that shared the restaurant with them.

No one seemed to notice. Not a single other patron stopped to look, make a snide comment or step in to intervene. These people were a soulless audience, looking everywhere but at them. For a moment, she was awestruck. Surely they had heard her scream. Surely they were concerned for a pretty girl crying. Surely…

It was then that Laura began to understand.

Cooper had a sneaking suspicion that something was awry, but this for sure solidified it. He tried to remember some of the things Gordon and Jefferies had told him about situations like this. Shared visions weren’t unheard of, and perhaps that was what he had felt from her. Maybe she was a special case like he was? Did she dream like he did? The diner around him became nothing more than a backdrop as all of his attention shifted to making sure Laura stayed grounded.

“It’s okay Laura.” He spoke with certainty, “You’re not there anymore. You’re here, in this diner with me.” Cooper offered a reaffirming smile, but he was met with a look of soft incredulity. There were more tears budding in the corners of her uncertain blue eyes, and her brows furrowed in a way he couldn’t quite discern. He reached out for her, hoping to give her something solid to hold onto. Just as his hands made contact, a look of realization and acceptance flashed on Laura’s young face.

Once again they are in that room with the red curtains. Laura Palmer sits in the black velvet chair with Dale Cooper at her side. She understands. Everything has become illuminated as they stare into each other's eyes. Above them is an angel, dressed in white. Her face is serene. 

Laughter fills the room. Tears fall onto a black dress.

“I have to go now.”

The words hit Dale like a bullet to the gut. He felt sadness, guilt, uncertainty, but most of all he felt panic. Something was ending. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was a bitter end to something far beyond just their brief meeting here. He tried to say something, anything, but before any of the words could come out he felt the warm caress of her arms around him. Laura tucked her head against his shoulder, squeezing him with love and fear. He could feel her arms shaking, trying to hold on to him. He folded, blanketing her in the smell of aftershave and dry cleaning.  

They wept.

“Please,” Cooper begged, his voice fragile and afraid, “Please, don’t go.” He tried to hold on to her but despite his best effort she slipped from his grasp. Laura, once such a young looking girl pretending to be grown, was now someone with knowledge beyond her years, beyond comprehension. Once again, she smiled at Cooper and he could feel his heart shatter like a mug against the floor.

“I’m going to be late.” She told him.

The sounds of the diner started to fade away. The clinking of plates, subtle conversations and echoing songs from the jukebox became nothing more than faint memories as Dale could do nothing but watch her go. Her golden blonde hair flowed behind her almost as if she were floating instead of walking. It was as if raindrops were falling onto sidewalk chalk, washing away the bright colors and erasing what they had created. Dale realized far too late that he was at the end of a dream. What questions he had now were given answers. A dream. The faceless patrons of the diner smiled at him as they continued to melt into his subconscious.  

Dale took a final look back at where he and Laura had been seated. As expected, he saw both of their mugs sitting abandoned. Just as Cooper felt himself slip completely from the dream, a featureless waitress set down a plate of food he never ordered. Viscous, yellow, pallid and abhorrent, the image mocked him as he fell from the scene.

Special Agent Dale Cooper woke, staring at his dark ceiling. He stayed that way for several minutes, holding onto the slurry of emotions stirring in his gut. Laura. He repeated her name in his mind, eager not to forget it. She had to be important. 

Instinctively, he reached over to his bedside table, fishing around for something he knew was there. The plastic felt comfortable in his hand.  With a heavy sigh, he brought the tape recorder close to his face so that he could drearily recall his journey through the realm of sleep. With a simple click of a button, the mechanical whir of the tape touched his ears in the early morning silence. 

“Diane," He croaked, voice peeling open the door to his tired mind, "It's early in the morning, February the 24th. I just had the strangest dream.”