Fic: February 4, 1978
Nov. 2nd, 2013 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alice_darvilTitle: February 4, 1978
Fandom: Twin Peaks
Rating: PG
Length: ~750 words
Content notes: mention of dead bodies
“There’s at least one body, and likely two others, minimum,” Cooper told Jim Burroughs at the Pittsburgh office, calling from a dingy drug store across the street from the abandoned building where he had just encountered the reality of human malevolence in its bleakest form.
His voice was steady, although this was the first time in his new career that he had dealt with murder in the field, and he was simultaneously excited at the prospect of an important case and shaken by the irrefutable evidence of tragic death that he had stumbled upon. The image of that fragile graying hand emerging like a small underworld plant from its basement grave was something he knew he would never forget.
Burroughs put him on hold for a while. “Gordon Cole wants, uh, Albert Rosenfeld to examine the scene before the excavation crew removes the bodies,” he said upon picking up again. “Your job is to keep everybody out of there until he arrives, got it?”
“No problem,” Cooper answered confidently, and headed back across the street.
And it wasn’t really a problem, although apparently there was a leak somewhere in the chain of reporting, because the first news team showed up a few minutes later. Cooper politely reminded them that they were within their rights as long as they stayed on the sidewalk, and that he would be arresting anyone who attempted to set foot inside the crime scene. He repeated the spiel when the next crew arrived. Then he asked them to pass along the word to any latecomers and bolted the door.
He looked out the front window when a buzz of chatter from the news crews alerted him. A sober-faced grey-haired man, presumably the forensics specialist, was striding up the walk, waving off the reporters, incongruously holding a red-bordered Time magazine under his other arm. Behind him came a young man carrying a team’s worth of equipment – a folded worklight, a black light, and several cases.
Cooper held the door for them, then closed it firmly and flipped the deadbolt again.
“Special Agent Dale Cooper,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand to the older man.
“Agent Dom Sheehy,” the man surprised him by saying. With a jerk of the thumb and a lift of his eyebrows, signifying Cooper knew not what, he indicated the younger man and announced, “And that is Albert.”
Cooper looked over Sheehy’s shoulder and saw a dark intelligent face burning with impatience.
“Damn scavengers, crawling and sniffing around,” Albert said to no one in particular.
He meant the reporters, Cooper realized, though he felt a stray impulse to look around for hyenas.
“Dale Cooper,” he repeated, extending his hand to relieve Albert of some of his equipment, “Can I…”
“You can show me where the bodies are and let me get to work,” Albert said, hands and arms tightening protectively on his gear.
“He’s all yours, Agent Cooper,” Sheehy said, leaning against the wall to read Time.
“This way.” Cooper showed Albert to the basement door and told him briefly what he had found. Albert looked restlessly around as he listened and Cooper studied him with unabashed curiosity. He was within a year or two of Cooper’s own age, older or younger, it was difficult to tell. In any case he could not be as habituated to shallow graves as he affected, but his defenses were fully active and strong. He merely tightened his lips a little when Cooper described the hand.
“I haven’t sensed the presence of pure evil so clearly since my senior year in college,” Cooper told him, and Albert really looked at him for the first time, surprised, wary, suspicious that he was attempting some kind of joke.
“I’ll tell you about that another time,” Cooper promised him. “Can I help you in any way?”
“No,” Albert replied automatically, still looking at him curiously, “You’ve probably contaminated the scene enough already.” He descended a few steps then stopped and turned, the legs of the worklight banging against the wall. “Let me see your shoes,” he demanded.
Obligingly, Cooper lifted one foot to show the sole of his shoe. Albert looked, nodded once, and headed down the stairs.
Cooper noted the tight set of his shoulders as he watched him go into the belly of the beast.
I could go back and make conversation with Agent Sheehy, he thought. Instead, he sat down on the top step to wait.
for the "Introductions" challenge on![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fan_flashworks
Fandom: Twin Peaks
Rating: PG
Length: ~750 words
Content notes: mention of dead bodies
“There’s at least one body, and likely two others, minimum,” Cooper told Jim Burroughs at the Pittsburgh office, calling from a dingy drug store across the street from the abandoned building where he had just encountered the reality of human malevolence in its bleakest form.
His voice was steady, although this was the first time in his new career that he had dealt with murder in the field, and he was simultaneously excited at the prospect of an important case and shaken by the irrefutable evidence of tragic death that he had stumbled upon. The image of that fragile graying hand emerging like a small underworld plant from its basement grave was something he knew he would never forget.
Burroughs put him on hold for a while. “Gordon Cole wants, uh, Albert Rosenfeld to examine the scene before the excavation crew removes the bodies,” he said upon picking up again. “Your job is to keep everybody out of there until he arrives, got it?”
“No problem,” Cooper answered confidently, and headed back across the street.
And it wasn’t really a problem, although apparently there was a leak somewhere in the chain of reporting, because the first news team showed up a few minutes later. Cooper politely reminded them that they were within their rights as long as they stayed on the sidewalk, and that he would be arresting anyone who attempted to set foot inside the crime scene. He repeated the spiel when the next crew arrived. Then he asked them to pass along the word to any latecomers and bolted the door.
He looked out the front window when a buzz of chatter from the news crews alerted him. A sober-faced grey-haired man, presumably the forensics specialist, was striding up the walk, waving off the reporters, incongruously holding a red-bordered Time magazine under his other arm. Behind him came a young man carrying a team’s worth of equipment – a folded worklight, a black light, and several cases.
Cooper held the door for them, then closed it firmly and flipped the deadbolt again.
“Special Agent Dale Cooper,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand to the older man.
“Agent Dom Sheehy,” the man surprised him by saying. With a jerk of the thumb and a lift of his eyebrows, signifying Cooper knew not what, he indicated the younger man and announced, “And that is Albert.”
Cooper looked over Sheehy’s shoulder and saw a dark intelligent face burning with impatience.
“Damn scavengers, crawling and sniffing around,” Albert said to no one in particular.
He meant the reporters, Cooper realized, though he felt a stray impulse to look around for hyenas.
“Dale Cooper,” he repeated, extending his hand to relieve Albert of some of his equipment, “Can I…”
“You can show me where the bodies are and let me get to work,” Albert said, hands and arms tightening protectively on his gear.
“He’s all yours, Agent Cooper,” Sheehy said, leaning against the wall to read Time.
“This way.” Cooper showed Albert to the basement door and told him briefly what he had found. Albert looked restlessly around as he listened and Cooper studied him with unabashed curiosity. He was within a year or two of Cooper’s own age, older or younger, it was difficult to tell. In any case he could not be as habituated to shallow graves as he affected, but his defenses were fully active and strong. He merely tightened his lips a little when Cooper described the hand.
“I haven’t sensed the presence of pure evil so clearly since my senior year in college,” Cooper told him, and Albert really looked at him for the first time, surprised, wary, suspicious that he was attempting some kind of joke.
“I’ll tell you about that another time,” Cooper promised him. “Can I help you in any way?”
“No,” Albert replied automatically, still looking at him curiously, “You’ve probably contaminated the scene enough already.” He descended a few steps then stopped and turned, the legs of the worklight banging against the wall. “Let me see your shoes,” he demanded.
Obligingly, Cooper lifted one foot to show the sole of his shoe. Albert looked, nodded once, and headed down the stairs.
Cooper noted the tight set of his shoulders as he watched him go into the belly of the beast.
I could go back and make conversation with Agent Sheehy, he thought. Instead, he sat down on the top step to wait.
for the "Introductions" challenge on
fan_flashworks