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Cooper stood in the conference room, staring out the window into the still-dark early morning. The room was dark, too, and the trees on the other side of the window looked foreboding and inky through the slight glare of the glass. Harry suddenly imagined the branches somehow breaking through, wrapping around Cooper, and pulling him into their depths.
"Coop," Harry said quickly, before it could happen.
Cooper turned and smiled when he saw the mug of coffee in Harry's hand. Harry walked it over to him, and their fingers brushed as it was handed off.
"Thanks, Harry," Cooper said.
"How are you holding up?" Harry asked, trying to keep the worry out of his tone.
Cooper was already holding the coffee under his nose, letting the steam warm his face. He looked up through dark eyelashes and said, "Much better now."
Harry waited a moment in case he wanted to elaborate, and when that didn't happen, reluctantly moved on.
"Everything's cleaned up in there," he said, referring to the horror they'd come back to find in his office. A body. An ominous game of chess that he knew was still rattling around in Dale's mind.
Dale nodded once. Decisively. He took another sip of his coffee.
"Andy's getting the pictures developed."
"Good work, Harry," Dale said, and then he seemed to pause, and he set the coffee down on the conference table before taking a step closer to Harry.
Harry swallowed as Dale's hands came down on each of his arms. "I want to be sure you're prepared for this," Dale said, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. "Windom Earle poses a significant threat, and I have the distinct sense that it's going to get worse before it gets better. I want to make sure you're ready."
Harry still held his own coffee mug between both of his hands. The heat radiating from the ceramic was starting to burn, but he knew that if he moved to set it down, he'd shake away Cooper's touch. For some reason that seemed worse than scalding his fingers.
"We're ready for it," Harry said, and this close, he couldn't avoid the cut underneath Cooper's left eye.
All night, Harry had done his best not to look at it. The thoughts that came with the knowledge that Dale had been hit--that someone had wanted to hurt him—were too explosive.
Harry kept envisioning the way his head must have snapped to the side when he was struck, the anger and pain in his eyes as he glared up at Jean Renault. The helplessness he'd put himself in, because he was kind. Because he was brave. Because he was good.
And that goodness had almost been rewarded with an execution.
At once, the whole situation seemed ridiculous. Harry had come in to check on Dale, and yet now he was the one being coddled. He set down his coffee mug, making Dale release his arms.
"Coop," Harry said, "Don't ask me how I'm doing when you almost got killed tonight."
Cooper seemed surprised, but he quickly rebounded, speaking evenly and with a hint of confusion. "Harry, you know as well as anyone that the line of duty—"
"But you shouldn't have been in the line of duty," Harry interrupted. A hot, desperate feeling rising in his chest that he didn't want to identify. "You were only there because I asked you to be."
Cooper's hand moved up to touch the deputy's badge still pinned to his chest, as if afraid Harry would suddenly take it away from him. "You didn't force me, Harry," he replied. "You asked and I accepted."
Something about the sentence made Harry's cheeks burn.
"I apologize for not consulting you," Dale went on. "I feel it was necessary, but I am your deputy now, and perhaps, in the future—"
"No, no," Harry stopped him, frustrated.
He closed his hand around the back of one of the chairs at the table, trying to get a hold of himself. It had never been this difficult before.
Cooper was quiet for a minute, and then he tried again with, "I'm okay, Harry."
Harry lifted his eyes to meet Cooper's again. He swallowed. Felt his heart speeding up.
Cooper was looking at him with something between pity and fondness, and it made Harry go silent, suddenly struck by the realization that Cooper knew.
Cooper knew that if Harry wasn't careful, his thoughts always strayed back to him. Cooper knew that Harry was often not careful enough.
"Harry, I'm okay," Cooper repeated softly.
Harry. Harry. Harry.
His name was always on Cooper's lips, and it took everything in him not to interrogate that fact—not to demand an answer for it. It was better to just leave it alone. Harry didn't need any encouragement; it was hard enough to stay away already.
Cooper's eyebrows suddenly pulled together as he watched Harry. He took a step closer.
Harry couldn't move.
Cooper's gaze drifted from Harry's eyes to his arm, which he slowly reached out and grabbed. He moved carefully, as if Harry was a deer at the edge of the tree line who would be scared away by anything too sudden.
"I was just worried," Harry managed, not protesting as Cooper moved even closer.
"I know," Cooper said softly. "I appreciate it, Harry."
Cooper's eyes were large and dark, his touch gentle, yet firm. He was so close that Harry could feel his body's warmth. And then there was that cut, still. The bruising around it. Harry swallowed back another attempt to bring it up. Dale didn't want to talk about it. He wanted—
Harry paused. What did Dale want? Did he want... him? Harry?
He was so close, so earnest. His eyes didn't stray. It sure seemed like he wanted him.
There was no question of whether Harry wanted Coop. He'd coveted his presence for weeks, guarded it carefully, done everything he could to keep it.
He thought he might love Coop, when it came down to it.
It didn't matter, though. He couldn’t have both Coop’s heart and Josie’s.
Josie was what he needed. Cooper would leave, eventually, back to the FBI and his life before Laura Palmer, and that would be painful enough. Harry couldn’t imagine letting himself truly love him, only to have to give him up and be expected to keep going.
No, he couldn’t do that. And he couldn’t betray Josie, no matter how perfect Dale’s face looked now, half-shadowed, lips slightly parted, eyes searching. It was just that bruise—
Harry pulled himself together so quickly it felt like whiplash. He stepped back, collecting his breath, and watched as Dale's hand retreated back to his side. Watched as Dale closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and dropped his eyes, too.
For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Harry said, “I’m glad you’re feeling okay. That’s—that’s really all I wanted to know before I left for the night.”
Dale lifted his gaze back to Harry’s and smiled. It was strained, Harry thought, which made a poisonous ache settle in his chest.
“Thank you, Harry,” Dale said softly.
“You should get some rest,” Harry replied, and then he turned and left the room.
He didn’t know what Dale did after that; he wasn’t supposed to worry about him.