Diane, I almost forgot.

ofthehappygenerations:

“…no.” Albert blinks, his breath is getting heavy - it really is difficult to think and be himself in this place, and not… diffract and multiply in an array of… symbols, fuck does he ever hate it here. He’s grateful for the distant inner voice that’s telling him that he should be horrified by this tension, whatever it is about it is NOT rest. They’re predators, both of them, and Albert is prey. But this inner voice is not kicking his amygdala into gear. There’s nothing.

“I am here… because I do not trust you two. Ten seconds ago” - or a century, or whatever the fuck it doesn’t matter. Last thing he said, that one. This, at least, seems to remain linear - “I gave you one last chance. You blew it. Bring me to Dale Cooper… the one who has been trapped here all this time.”

Dale slowly eases as he studies his sibling’s eyes. He lets go of him, reaches for Albert’s hand again. He aches, grief pulling down at his expression. This is a terrible parting. Albert deserves flowers and the lightest of kisses.

“…He’s right. You can’t be here anymore, Albert…”

The doppelganger scrubs at his face with his sleeve.

“We’re going to get him, don’t worry.”

The thought presses into Archie’s hunger, pushing it aside to take Albert’s free hand and bring it to his lips. He’s sorry. He’s so sorry and he just wants to set Albert free. Dale will follow soon after he promises with all his heart.

“We love you, Albert.” Archie whispers against his friend’s knuckles, “We want nothing but the best for you. Forgive us. Forgive us and let us repent by doing this for you. You deserve happiness. You deserve light. You don’t belong here.”

He hopes that his words are lulling Albert into a state of sedation. Just the touch of his lips are potent enough to bring anyone into a place of unawareness.

1. Coffee2. Colors3. Happy strangers4. Donuts5. You

ofthehappygenerations:

“You two should consider a career in stand up comedy.” Rest? NOW? And when are they supposed to get back up, when they get better… from deadly wounds? “Or get a few anatomy lessons. Maybe both. You have thirty seconds to make a convincing case that sitting down like good children will improve our conditions instead of turning us into sitting, lamer-than-before ducks. Whatever thirty seconds means in here. I’m listening.” Albert wipes cold sweat from his brow as he looks at the different expressions on those two identical faces. He shakes his head. All these years, all these ruined lives, all this suffering… “And, this is an order - if I attract any undue attention, drop me. I can do decoy. If I don’t make it, tell Coop… tell him that his friend wishes him the best.”

“Don’t say that-!”

The noise from Dale’s throat is obviously inhuman but it’s easy to divine it’s meaning. It’s frustrated and he muffles it tightly behind his hand. He doesn’t want to attract attention but he wants to stomp his feet for emphasis all the same. 

“Please. We need to rest. You and Archie are about to split open!”   He grabs at his own greasy hair, pulls as he tries to calm himself.

“Just let me tend to you for a moment. So you don’t spill everywhere.” 

Speaking of...

Archie’s shirt is now soaked with black, and has he tries to hide his awareness he begins to shake. They are both in bad states, but he can’t think about that now. He smiles, or tries to anyway as his quivering hand holds onto Albert’s.

“Please.” He whispers, dark eyes pooling with fear, “We have to. We have to rest or he will never leave. I promise it won’t be long, and you can save your friend like you want to.” The doppelganger draws nearer, his heat helping to lull Albert into a state of calm. He smells so familiar. He smells of coffee, morning trysts, smiles shared from across the living space. 

The dark fluid presses against Albert’s shirt, staining with black as the blood stains Archie. An image appears. A winding Mandala, tapestry blowing in the wind and disintegrating into fine colored sand.

ofthehappygenerations:

Let Venus watch, agape is not a kind of love she presides over (that and a little stubbornness, a little tunnel vision. But mostly a selfless, unconditional drive to save a soul in need, honest). Albert feels lighter with every step, emptier, as his blood drips on the ground like an hourglass’ trail. Something else is beating in his chest with a steady urgency, bright and luminous. His head is buzzing, it’s hard to stay focused. He leans on the other two.

“I’m sure he will”, Albert agrees, giving a little no-nonsense nod. “Truman will take good care of him.” He’ll get what he deserves: a happy ending and a dog. Charming. 

And it’s good that Albert is here now, driving the doubles as they drive him - as far as symbiosis goes, he’s seen worse. Together, they can free him. He just has to keep… walking…

Dale makes some noise in agreement. He never got to spend time with Harry and it appears he never will.  Weight drags on his arms, his shoulders. Grief only adds to the burden, he finds his steps are slowing. Venus wants him trailing after them on all fours and he’s not sure how long he can disagree with her.  

Dear Albert isn’t holding up well either, that smell lingers in his nose, floods his head with sweet smoke. And so he comes to a stop, takes time to inspect him. His lips part in a little o. 

“Albert, perhaps we should rest.” 

Oh no.

Archie looks to Albert, heeding his double’s words and finds that his wounds are seeping. He wasn’t supposed to be like this, and the doppelganger’s own wounds leak almost in pity. Instead of the bright color of blood, black oil presses through his shirt as he worries over his former lover.

ofthehappygenerations:

“What are we here for, sightseeing? Should I have brought a camera, do they sell those ‘wish you were here…’ postcards created with the graphic design sensibility of an orangutan on LSD? If I wanted to gawk at a handsome special agent, I’d be on my couch watching James Bond movies in my underwear. Listen to yourself sometimes.” Albert could not care less about Dale Cooper’s looks, as long as he’s alive. He is more worried by Archie’s chipper attitude toward martyrdom, which is killing him with every little enthusiastic smile, and by his own status as a stabiliser, as the glue that is somehow, for now, keeping the doubles together and focused on the goal. No matter its price. Is it the right choice? Ever since he has come to this place, Albert cannot tell. But inaction can be violence as well. Classic runaway train moral dilemma, his hands are dirty either way. He puts his hand on Archie’s other shoulder, closing the circle. “I asked Santa that either of you know how to lead the way. Please tell me I’ve been a good boy and I’m not getting coal…” he says to them both. This is it. This is what it all comes down to.

Dale’s heart aches and he hides a shuddery breath behind a tight smile. He’s going to miss Albert so much, his little jokes and the way he talks. His smooth hands, his deep voice! All of him! Every bit and piece.

“I know the way.” Cooper is part of him and he can feel him even in here, wrapped tightly in velvet, buried deep away in the red. 

He squeezes Albert’s hand, Archie’s shoulder and leads them to the gap in the curtains on the other side of the room. Another identical hallway awaits them, naturally. Venus watches, naturally. 

Let Venus watch. The three of them were reunited, and though they had their differences outside of the Lodge, they loved here. They were lovers all over again, every part of this other side of the mirror was here, touching Albert and fawning as they continued their trek through the Looking Glass. In this place, one could travel forward for miles and never make it to their destination. The curtains, mocking each traveler with the aid of the zig-zagging floor beneath them.

But they press on. The two doppelgangers allowing themselves to be more open, reconnecting with the fragment of Dale Cooper they have within them. It’s dangerous, of course, being this open. It’s a means to entice the killer, BOB, to drawn nearer... but they’re so close.

ofthehappygenerations:

Albert nods, feeling his heart skip a beat when Archie tears up, like every ounce of sadness in him still is and forever will be a consequence of the way Albert treated him on that car ride (but how was Albert treated in the months before that? Didn’t he deserve the basic dignity and respect of being told the truth? But that’s not the point now).

He’s falling apart now, rough stitches failing him. Soon, he will leave this flesh bag behind and continue by sheer force of will. And he has to. Buckle up, Rosenfield. He will be strong for the three of them, a beacon toward their goal.

“Yes, you are. You made it, we made it”, he says holding onto the doppelganger’s arm. “We’re gonna do good.”

“Pull yourself together.” Dale reaches out for his twin’s shoulder, a little hesitant to touch him. Archie feels thin, much less solid than himself. Perhaps its the blood loss, perhaps it’s that he was made from his own rib. 

“You know where we’re going.” (Now more than ever he feels the place where Archie was torn from him, ragged, angry.)

He’s trying to be brave but his voice trembles. There are eyes watching them behind the curtains, and if he starts to ponder about who they belong to he’s certain his legs will give out right here and now. 

He ignores the eyes for now, reaching out to his other half and Albert in between. They were here. They had made it. The fear that had been pumping through his veins had left him, and all he wants to do now is help.

“Yes!” Archie replies, “Yes I know just where we’re going. We’re going to see him, right?” He then looks to Albert, smiling and obviously excited, “Are you ready? You really get to see him! The man you wanted for so long! He doesn’t... he doesn’t look like us, just so you know...”

tofollowfires:

Not today, Venus.

The trembling grip on Albert’s hand squeezes tighter and he steps forward, placing himself in front of him. He bares his teeth, practically growling. If Archie thinks he can take Albert away again he has another thing coming. 

“What do you want.”  

Albert does not know what he is gonna find, doesn’t know what the original Dale Cooper will look like after all this time. The doppelganger was easy enough to single out with how he addressed him, but this one? He doesn’t even remember what the real one sounded like, so many years ago. It’s just his heart - and the note of desperation in the apparition’s voice - that tell him that this is Archie. 

A shiver shakes him and drops of blood pool under his feet. Archie… he’s here. He made it. They got to meet again. He asked for “his friend”, goddamnit, not “Facebook status: complicated”. Albert keeps eye contact, mouthing an unintelligible string of words cadenced like a prayer. 

With quick glances, however, he cannot help but compare the other’s wounds with his own. Are they the same, mirrored or just similar? Who patched him up?

Archie flinches at he’s other’s question, and as he tries to regain his bravery his eyes begin to well up with dark tears.

“I...” The reflection looks over to Albert, hoping for some kind of positive response, “I was called. He asked... he asked for me. I- ... I’m his friend?”

Right? They were friends? Lovers once. Friends who became lovers in the middle of a doorway. The portal between them opened up and allowed them to get lost in each other. He remembers what he first tasted like, before bits of him found their way into some of the deeper cracks of Albert Rosenfield.

goodhxtblackcoffee:

Marble pierces the soul like one wouldn’t believe, and as the two weave in and out of curtains and dart along zigzagging lines it becomes very evident that Venus is the one guarding the gate. Each time they pass a room, she waits for them there. Most of the time she’s on one end of the hallway, others she’s down the opposite end. There’s something almost rhythmic about her movement; one could almost liken it to a waltz as she pressed forward, side, side and finally to the back to start again.

Music is definitely another indicator of their location. It shifts with Venus, their strange dance intertwining to cause a vague discord as the scenery begins to loop. Red loses its meaning as a color, and the ominous bright light from which there is no true source washes out everything else. It becomes a dream. Albert, even though his hand is gripped tight to the doppelganger’s hand, begins to feel as though he’s drifting away.

That is, until they are confronted.

They almost bump into her, Venus standing tall and oppressive before them as their three bodies almost collide. Her eyes find Albert’s and stare down as a means of opposition. Around the two of them is a strange aura that almost threatens to engulf them. If his senses aren’t too clouded by the deprivation, Albert can feel sharp yellow teeth pecking at his skin. Someone is with them. 

And Albert stares back up. The path so far, quietly following the doppelganger’s lead, has been a dreamy lull, where all his energy was channeled into trying to keep a mental map of the music’s variations as it related to the minimal changes in the scenery. It’s enough to give him a fierce headache, but he’s gonna keep vigil and aware.

But opposition? Opposition, he can do. Whatever that statue hosts that makes it more than a chunk of marble, sentient, threatening, and he’s not gonna stop and consider it philosophically, it can be insulted. 

“I’m here to file a complaint, ma’am”, he starts, with the tone of voice that is usually associated with having queued two hours and a half for some tax return mishap. “The complaint is that this place fucking sucks and I want my friend back.”

A familiar figure steps out from the curtain behind Venus de Milo.

It was if Albert was looking into a mirror, and he was the only one in the room without a reflection. Dale Cooper, or rather his doppelganger that was masquerading as him, faces the two men with a sheepish smile. His suit is torn in a similar manner as Albert’s, it’s very clear he’s sharing a similar patch job.

He looks to his double, swallowing thickly before speaking.