The foundation of such a method is love

“I HIT THE BRAKES ON IA, MAKE SOME CALLS AND PULL SOME STRINGS, GO BACK AND I HIRE THEM FOR A SPECIAL PARANORNAL TASKFORCE,” he says seriously. “THEIR NAMES WERE JEFFRIES, EARLE, COOPER, DESMOND, AND STANLEY AND THEY WERE MY BOYS AND THEY WERE IN MY OFFICE. THEY WERE MY DEAR FRIENDS FOR A WHILE BUT CERTAIN TRAITS STARTED COMING OUT AND THEY BECAME NOT SO NICE.”

“One straight man.”

❝I believe you.❞ He lies. This whole affair has shaken his belief in the absolute power of the FBI. Not that he has the same cynicism that local law enforcement often has, just that he’s come to realize they’re usually as confused as everyone else and don’t know much more than everyone else. Disappearances that take place within Twin Peaks are rarely solved. Murders occasionally and carjackings almost always but disappearances stay a mystery.

If they do find Cooper, there’s a possibility he won’t be the man who entered those red curtains. The Black Lodge fractured psyches or so the legends went. If he closes his eyes he can still see him in his favorite pajamas with the blood running down his forehead and into his eyes.

It struck me as funny, Harry. Do you understand me? It struck me as funny.

❝Nobody. I’m a grown man.❞ Harry says quickly. It might come as a complete shock to most but he didn’t have many folks to lean on. Sure, he knew everyone and everyone knew him but he didn’t have many close friends. Hawk and Ed weren’t incredibly emotionally open people and though Andy had somewhat of a comforting aura, it was a lot to put on him at a time like this.

It’s wise to doubt. He’s not very believable with guilt and defeat weighing on his shoulders, and his voice has lost its edge. But he’s here and he’s trying his best.

He isn’t. It was more of a plea than a threat. He doesn’t think he could muster the willpower and give his first momentum. Harry had felt so badly after he’d struck Albert for the first time. Cooper had sent him back to the Bronco where he’d sat in exile for the five minutes it took the fight to be resolved. Then he’d fretted over it a little, it was Albert’s job he was interfering with even if the man was insensitive and had it coming.

It had been when Albert had tried to get him fired that that little bit of regret dissipated. It wasn’t like he had any other plans in life other than be the sheriff of Twin Peaks. There just wasn’t anything else he could do. Even now when part of him is considering walking out the door and never coming back, he can’t think of a place to go. He can’t stay here, that’s for sure. If he spends one more night on the couch in the lounge, someone will probably get him committed.

❝Will you-❞ Will you drive me home?

Harry, it seems, is beyond even that. It’s painful to see the good, simple Sheriff, sturdy as a cow and with the capacity for evil of a small sponge, drained like this. He can’t even finish what he was about to ask and Albert feels his heart sink, partly out of pity, partly seeing himself in all that ache, exhaustion, hurt. He sure did a number on them, Coop.

“And yeah, I will.”

“I’ll find him, Truman. You can count on that,” he says, answering to the most pressing question on his mind instead of the one Harry meant to ask. He’s out there, somewhere. They won’t fail this time, not like with Phil, not like with Chet. Albert isn’t sure he would survive failure (he will, and he’ll survive more lies and defeats, but each time something will be lost). 

@ofthehappygenerations

“I’m fine,” he hisses through gritted teeth, for about the fifth time since Albert has found him slumped against the wall, looking decidedly not fine. “Don’t fuss.” He tries to prove his point by pushing himself upright, and walking away across the room, only to promptly stagger and double over, coughing into his sleeve; it comes off stained red.

Albert uncrosses his arms and kneels down to get a better look at the crumpled mess that is Phillip Jeffries. If he was primed and ready to fuss before, when it just looked like the Bureau’s wonder boy had had one too many of whatever he was having, he’s fully alarmed now.

  ❝ welcome to twin peaks! ❞  laura parrots the town’s welcoming sign slogan with veiled mockery,  her chin propped on her hand.  her smile has edges,  her eyes shadows.  ❝ i think the new phrase should be ‘  who needs pie when the fuckery is so sweet?  enjoy!  ’   —  what’dya think,  mr. fbi man?  too on the nose? ❞

❝Do you have anything useful to say?❞

Harry says, bitingly, an injured animal snapping at anything and anyone that stopped to help it. It wasn’t like there weren’t many people who tried to reach out to him and pull him back from the edge but he drove them back with the agility of a matador. He felt like the whole town was rubbernecking and watching him like he was a slow dreadful motor-crash. And he didn’t appreciate it.

He rests his head on the desk once more, eyes fixed on the familiar wood grain. He didn’t like leaving the office anymore. He was safe in his wood-paneled shag-carpeted kingdom. Here there were things to do, people to talk to, stimulus of many kinds. Home was a place of desolation where the only thing to do was think and the only thing to think of was them. Him and her. Especially him. God forbid he isn’t around if and when Cooper comes back.

That’s why he’s there, that’s why he’s stopped drinking, that’s why he’s sitting in his office even when he feels the sickest he’s ever felt. He has to be there in case something happens. It’s just that he feels so damn terrible today he wonders if Hank Williams wasn’t woofing when he insinuated you could die of a broken heart. It’s the hope that keeps him from dropping dead on the spot, sheer will power that keeps his heart pumping and his mind going.

Albert, too, wears his heartache on his sleeve, barely clinging to his dignity to carry himself through the day. He can’t face Diane nor the gaping void in Gordon’s open-air office, so he’s here, trying to make a difference, but he’s only human and it’s the third time he goes through this. He made it through the other two, eventually. This one, he’s not sure. Where does all that love go?

“You’re gonna punch me?”