011 | Saffron City | Action;

[worktodo]

[So here's Albert.

Since coming to Johto, Albert's seen a lot of wacky shit go down. He's seen people mutating into some kind of hideous hybrid creature from an airborne mutant virus. He's seen ledges that defy the laws of physics. He's seen dragons and dinosaurs and aliens. He's seen people who claim beyond a shadow of a doubt to be actual ponies. He's been yelled at by a teenage Viking. He's been flown all over creation on a bird with clouds for wings and carried forcibly around by a giant green sparklegrizzly and endured patently stupid roadtrips that involved caves and forests and god only knows what else. He's been taunted by ghosts. He's been assaulted with puppies. He's fallen in a really big hole.

He's survived the freaking Armageddon and still didn't let it ruin Christmas.

And now, here on the third day of this latest bout of flagrant insanity, in his quiet home in Saffron City with a brand new swimming pool sparkling in the yard and a snarling levitating three-hundred-pound flesh-eating snowflake snapping at the end of its chain near the outhouse, he is stepping outside to collect himself with a cup of coffee and a moment's peace—

...

And there is a BIG DAMN TREE TRANSPLANTED RIGHT INTO THE MIDDLE OF HIS FORMERLY PRISTINE SIDEWALK, and WHEN THE HELL DID THAT GET THERE and WHO THE HELL EVEN RIPS UP A TREE AND—

...

...

Silently, Albert sips his coffee.

Just another day in Johto, apparently.]

Comments

[worktodo]

Windom.

[Leave it to Windom Earle to do it. Love was a foreign thing to the guy — maybe not always, but certainly so after he'd gone crackers — but fear? Fear he excelled at. Especially when it came to instilling it in one Dale Cooper.

So Windom played with fire and Cooper got burned. Why is he entirely unsurprised by that.]

I'll stop you, Coop.

[He should've said he'd stop Windom, maybe, but there's a finality to the story Cooper's been telling that makes him think the chances of that are slim — and besides, it ends with Windom Earle sleeping in the bed he made for himself, anyway. So be it.]

[tapestodiane]

Thank you, Albert.

<sub>[He's solemn. He's appreciative. He's deadly serious and beyond sad but he's thankful to Albert for shouldering this thing, too, and he's glad he's gotten to tell someone. He needed to. He's had no real human contact for what feels like years. Just imitations, images in his mind ... and he touches Albert's shoulder in an expression of all those things, watching him still, always steady, always gone.]


[He knows that Albert will do everything in his power to help him, too. It's something he needs to do and Cooper is going to watch him do it from the sidelines in the Lodge, hoping he will succeed but knowing he will probably fail.]

[That's another thing he's resigned to.]

[But so long as Albert knows when to stop trying - and he will - then things might just work out if not for the best, at least as good as they can given the circumstances.]</sub>

[worktodo]

[Speaking of shouldering.

The touch doesn't last long, but that's only because with the sound of the words, "Thank you, Albert," that means business has concluded, the plan is set, and now Albert can finally set aside the work still left to do in favor of grabbing hold of his friend and pulling him in for a protective hug, holding him tight and cradling his head against his shoulder with one hand cupped gently against the back of his hair and not even giving a damn about the gel for once.]

You hold on, you understand me? Don't you ever quit. You hold on.

[He can't be there to hold Coop up this time. He can't give him a shoulder this time. The only thing he can give him is words and memories, and that means they've got to be enough.]

[tapestodiane]

<sub>[It's not surprising, what Albert does, and Cooper finds himself in the hug willingly and hugs Albert back because they both need it. They do. It won't be easy to go back but Coop is sure it will be even harder to remain, with the knowledge and no means to do anything, to wait and wait and hope, to walk in circles in your own mind and try to come up with something, anything - and pray that you will even remember it when (if?) you do come back home.]

[There are so many things that might not work, that won't check out. But Cooper feels better for having told and for getting to see Albert again and for this very clear comfort, this contact, and for once he's selfish enough to just draw from it.]

[So he hugs back and watches the oh-so-familiar back yard because if he closes his eyes he might be elsewhere and he misses this, he misses this so much, but his soul is too old to let him cry for having lost it.]</sub>

I'll try, Albert, I promise you.

<sub>[The real answer is: I don't think I have a choice. It's only hell because it's limbo. But he's taking care to not lose himself. He's making sure to watch everything that happens to him outside. It hurts, but it's his reality, and he's holding onto it. He is. He will. He can do that.]

[He was weak enough to break beneath the Lodge but once in it he knows he's strong enough to remain without crumbling.]</sub>

[worktodo]

[Lucky for them both, Albert's got nowhere to be and plenty of strength left. Coop fits where he ought to against Albert's shoulder and one of these days, hours, minutes, he's going to slip like sand through his fingers (here and there both), but for now he's solid and here and Albert's not going anywhere, even if Cooper is. He can stand here a long time. He can stand here forever if he's got to.]

Hey.

[Pay attention, buttercup. He's only going to get one shot at this, so it's got to be enough.]

I love you, Dale Cooper.

[And here, there, no matter where, you better not forget it.]

[tapestodiane]

I know.

<sub>[What he thinks is, You would have made it.]

[He doesn't say that. He hugs back. He knows. He never doubted.]


[There's something almost symbolic about the fact that Albert chooses to use his full name, moreso than Albert himself might realize. In the lodge, he's either Dale or Agent Cooper or he has no name at all. Elsewhere, he's Coop, both in Johto and Kanto and Earth. But right now it's all of him, and it's fitting because it finally truly is. He's whole. He's gone. He's at the end of his line and he's where he was always supposed to be.]

[Dale Cooper.]


[He might have forgotten.]



[Albert is good like that.]</sub>


I love you, too.