From: Jennifer-Oksana <jstoy@mailhost.tcs.tulane.edu>
Date: Mon, 08 May 2000 15:29:54 GMT
Subject: NEW: Full of Secrets, Prologue

Full of Secrets
by Jennifer-Oksana
EMAIL: jenniferoksana@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://www.katido.com/jennyo/fullofsecrets.html
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: CRA, light H. X-F/Twin Peaks crossover. MSR.
SPOILERS: Pilot and any pre-XF information is fair game.
SUMMARY: Go back to 1992, to a town where there are giants, dwarves,
and cherry pie that will kill you-- if you're not already dead. Mulder
and Scully are about to discover that in Twin Peaks, mysteries never
die-- they just get weirder.
ARCHIVE: Gossamer, Ephemeral, Spookies, everyone else ask me first.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter and 1013
Productions. Twin Peaks belongs to David Lynch, Mark Frost, ABC, and
probably a whole slew of people I'm forgetting. Don't sue.

PROLOGUE
"The fundamental delusion of humanity is to suppose that I am here and
you are out there."	--Yasutani Roshi

xx
March 27, 1989
Twin Peaks, Washington

The door was closed, he was bleeding, and it didn't matter at all. Not
one little bit.

"How's Annie? How's Annie? How's Annie?" he sneered at the broken
reflection. He was free of the Lodge again and this time he had a fine
vessel to do his work with. The town loved this man, the quirky,
straight arrow FBI agent who had come to solve the great mystery-- who
killed Laura Palmer?

As if it mattered. They had already known, secretly, in their hearts.
BOB knew this the way he knew all the secret darknesses.

"We," he said to his bloody reflection, "Are going to take this town by
storm, the way we were always meant to. Isn't that right?"

His reflection grinned back at him. Then BOB felt the sudden pain of
having smashed his head into glass. Quickly, he grabbed a washrag and
began to clean up the mess, still grinning like a shark.

"Oh, yes," he said. "I promised that I'd kill again, and I have no
intention whatsoever of breaking my word. This town is going to know my
power."

He turned back to his reflection. Very primly, he picked out a piece of
glass and laughed. This was going to be fun.


March 27, 1992
Annapolis, Maryland

Dana Scully was washing her face, trying very hard to avoid her own
reflection. She didn't want to see her expression because she knew it
was thoughtful and she was trying very hard not to think, not to
wonder, not to feel sick to her stomach.

In less than a month, her life had gone from an orderly, predictable,
and occasionally boring routine to a hip cosmic joke and it had
everything to do with the crazy man she had been assigned to by a group
of her superiors-- people she had believed she could trust. Her world
was now full of strange non-sequiturs, echoing in the corners of her
mind.

Do you believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials?

That's why they put the I in F-B-I.

Agent Mulder believes we are not alone--

What the hell was she doing? If she had any sense at all, she'd march
to Blevins's office tomorrow and demand a transfer somewhere else--
anywhere else. The X-Files were a dead end. If she stayed in the
basement with "Spooky" Mulder, she'd never achieve anything in the
Bureau, except a reputation as Mrs. Spooky. Hell, a friend from the
Academy had already said something over lunch the other day.

"So, Dana, did you and Spooky find Bigfoot yet?"

It had been a stupid joke; she had even laughed at the time. Now, in
the privacy of her own bathroom, it was starting to bother her. She had
joined the Bureau to help people, to investigate crimes, to further
justice. As much as she had wanted a field assignment-- anything to get
out of the Quantico ghetto-- this was not going to work.

Scully quickly rinsed off her face, still avoiding her reflection. No,
this wasn't going to work. It had to stop soon, before any damage was
done. She would ask for a transfer for the sake of her career.

There were other good reasons, too. She and Mulder were not exactly
compatible. He was a mystic, she was a rationalist; he was intuitive,
she was sensible. And that sneering, superior Yankee attitude of his
was too much for a saint to bear, and Dana Scully was hardly a saint.

Then again, maybe they knew that. Maybe they had heard about Jack
Willis or maybe they knew about Daniel Waterston. God, she didn't even
want to imagine. It was humiliating to consider the only reason she had
been chosen for this assignment was her tendency to fall on her back
for men in charge-- and Mulder, though he was too polite to mention it,
was in charge of this division.

"And this time," Scully said aloud to herself, "It didn't take nearly
as long as usual."

Two mosquito bites, one hug, and those dark, soulful eyes. Dammit,
dammit, dammit. She had sworn to herself after Jack that she would
never get involved with a co-worker again. But what was resolve when
the best-looking man Scully had seen in years was dangling right there
in front of her? Especially when there had been that strange, almost
flirtatious, almost combative chemistry between them? What was she
going to do now?

"I'm going to ask for a transfer," she said aloud, looking around for
her Oil of Olay. "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to Blevins's office and
asking for a transfer. It's not chickening out. I'm simply not suited
for this job. And I'm not going to be a Mata Hari for the FBI, dammit!
If they want Mulder back in ISU, they can make him transfer back!"

Scully slammed her fist into the porcelain sink and jerked her head up,
catching her own stare directly in the mirror. But her own face wasn't
looking back at her. Instead, a blonde woman looked out at her with a
frightened spark in her eyes.

"Don't let your fear overtake you," she said urgently in hushed,
strangely accented tones.

Scully gasped and rubbed her eyes. She looked again, and the blonde was
still looking at her, whispering something frantically.

"Only unity can save you," the woman said. "Beware your distrust or
you'll be lost in the hell of your own soul's creating."

"What on earth?" Scully whispered, reaching toward the image in the
mirror. "Who are you? Where are you?"

The girl in the mirror didn't answer. Instead, Scully saw her own face
again, wide-eyed and thoroughly unnerved by the hallucination. What on
earth was that? A few weeks in the plausible state of Oregon and she
saw strange women with cryptic messages talking to her from the mirror?

"All right, Dana," she muttered. "I know we're investigating the
paranormal now, but that's no reason to live it."

Her reflection seemed to agree. Scully, after staring into the mirror
for a long couple of minutes, trying to determine whether or not it was
rigged, finally decided it was just stress. After taking a few deep
breaths to steady herself, she finished cleaning up, and walked into
her bedroom, still confused about her career, her life, her new
partner, and now this strange hallucination that didn't feel like a
hallucination. Then again, they never do.

Forcing herself to be calm, cool, and collected, Scully pressed play on
her tape deck and picked up the journal she had started keeping lately.
As the soft strains of a strange, almost jazzy melody began to play,
she picked up her pen and started writing.

[Journal Entry: March 27, 1992]

It's been a rough month.

Let me repeat that: IT'S BEEN A ROUGH MONTH!

Dear God, what has my life turned into? All I wanted was a job outside
of Quantico, but do I get that? Hell no! I get assigned to the
extremely good-looking and precociously psychotic Agent Mulder and
before I can catch my breath, we're on our way to Oregon-- "the very
plausible state of Oregon" and my life is turned upside down. I'm a
scientist, dammit, not a sidekick. And I'm not impressed with this
feeling I get that it doesn't matter if I'm a scientist or a circus
animal, but that I'm on this assignment to seduce and destroy Fox
Mulder. That alone is absolutely infuriating.

Then again-- I did have sex with him. Points go to the guys upstairs
for figuring out our psychology so well. But I didn't have any agenda
when I did it-- well, besides the agenda of having a mind-bending
orgasm, but that's not what I mean. I am not playing anyone's game, but
I don't know how anyone could believe that right now the way I played
into their expectations.

What do I do now? What the hell do I do now? I'm sure it would be best
if I asked for a transfer. I could prevent Mulder and myself from being
hurt or used by-- anyone who would try to. (After all, who's using us?
The FBI? Mulder's shadowy conspiracy folks? The military?) Dammit, I
want to be part of the Bureau mainstream but in the field and not stuck
in some basement. I also refuse to sleep my way to the top. I want the
chance to prove myself, but not like this! I can't be a part of this,
not in good conscience.

Mulder is a good person. He really and truly is. He doesn't deserve to
be part of whatever game those men upstairs are playing. I don't want
to be part of that. Mulder might be a bit strange, and even "spooky,"
like everyone tells me, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be
manipulated.

It's going to hurt him. I get assigned to him, I sleep with him, and
then I say good-bye, nice meeting you, I'm going after a real career.
He's going to think I used him. And how on earth can I convince him
otherwise? Dammit all to hell, anyway.

So, to sum up-- this month (okay, three weeks, feels like a goddamn
month) was a complete washout. And now tonight-- tonight something
strange happened to me. I can't explain it. I'm not really one for
hallucinations. That was always Missy's thing, not mine. I don't know
how she came to me. It felt so real, though. And for a moment, I was
afraid. Maybe Laura came to warn me. But about what?


Dana Scully stopped and read her last sentence. "Maybe Laura came to
warn me" jumped out from the even, rounded handwriting, strangely
capitalized and almost italicized. Who was Laura? But even before she
finished asking the question, she knew that Laura had been the woman in
the mirror. But how had she known that?

"God, what a month," Scully said, pushing the journal away from her,
turning off the lights, and closing her eyes tight.


March 27, 1992
Twin Peaks, Washington

The man who was still occasionally Dale Cooper drank a cup of the black
coffee that used to bring him so much pleasure and shrugged. What he
had seen in this coffee, he didn't know. It was black, bitter, and
burnt his tongue more often than not.

"It's interesting, really, how we define pleasure," he said
conversationally to the young woman sitting in the chair across from
him. "It seems we can never really talk about it without discussing
pain. Do you know what pain is?"

The woman sitting across from him didn't answer. Then again, she had a
filthy gag in her mouth. Then again, she was dead and had been for at
least an hour. All of these things didn't lend themselves to brisk
conversation. Yet Dale Cooper continued to talk to her.

"Pain, at least in my opinion, is reality. It is both the absence of
pleasure, which is a fleeting, transitory thing at best, and at worst a
delusion, and the knowledge of the absence, which I find is the most
terrible and wonderful thing about pain. Only when we know how empty
reality is, that the only truth is more pain, do we truly understand
human existence. Do you understand my meaning?"

The woman, a lock of curly blonde hair obscuring her face, still didn't
answer. Cooper didn't really seem to notice. In fact, he was losing
interest in her entirely as he heard something-- something strange.

"Something is coming," he said, his lips curling into a grotesque
parody of his former smile. He looked back at the blonde. "I think that
someone heard your screams after all."

He lifted his head again, trying to hear the noiseless sound.

"Yes, indeed," he said. "I hear them coming. Yes, indeed."

Full of Secrets Day 1A
by Jennifer-Oksana (jenniferoksana@yahoo.com)
All questions, comments, et cetera can be handled at
http://www.katido.com/jennyo/fullofsecrets.html

MONDAY, MARCH 30, 1992
"Whatever you want too much, you can't have, so when you really want
something, try wanting it a little less." 	--Joel Rosenberg

xx
J. Edgar Hoover Building
8:35 AM

Scully took a nervous breath as she opened the door to Mulder's
extremely messy office. Today, she had decided, was the day. She had
the transfer forms in her briefcase. As soon as Mulder understood the
situation, she would go up to Blevins's office and end this nightmare.

Of course, Mulder would be nowhere to be found on her day of destiny.
Annoyed, Scully looked around for her soon to be ex-partner.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder's smarmy, teasing voice finally called from
behind a filing cabinet. "Hope you're ready for more travel in the
Great White North. We have a new case up there."

He was definitely not supposed to say that.

"Mulder, I--" Scully tried to say.

"Before you ask a lot of nit-picking questions, just listen," Mulder
said, popping up like a manic jack-in-the-box. "It's not extra-
terrestrials or Bigfoot or anything you can wrinkle your pretty little
scientific nose at. This is a murder case-- a strange case, to be sure,
but nothing that will worry your scientific sensibilities. At least not
too much."

Scully, frustrated, sank into the one working chair in the office-- the
other one wobbled too much to sit on-- and watched Mulder root around
in old files, his face animated and his sleeves rolled up. One nice
thing about Fox Mulder, he loved his work, which was more than most FBI
agents could say.

"Anyway," he said, his voice muffled, "Have you ever heard of the Laura
Palmer case?"

Scully, remembering her strange vision of the other night, blinked.
Laura? That was a little strange. It had to be a coincidence because
she'd never heard of the case, but it still didn't prevent a feeling of
deja vu.

"I can't say that I have," she confessed.

"Really? Got a lot of attention in ISU. Guess it was before your time,"
Mulder said nonchalantly, finding the file he was looking for and
turning his attention to the waiting slide machine. "Ladies and
gentlemen, if you please--"

"I get it, Mulder," Scully replied wryly. Mulder grinned rakishly at
her, then turned on the projector. A young woman lying wrapped in
plastic flashed onto the screen.

Scully's eyes widened. Except for the fact that she was dead, it was
the same woman from Friday night, and Scully would swear on a stack of
Bibles she'd never seen her before. This had just gone from coincidence
to genuine weird.

"Who is she?" Scully asked, staring tensely at Laura, forcing herself
to think of any circumstance where she could have encountered this
case.

"This is Laura Palmer," Mulder said. "Homecoming Queen of the small,
quiet town of Twin Peaks, Washington. She turned up dead just over
three years ago. It tore the town apart, especially as they discovered
she was not precisely the girl they thought she was."

"Meaning?"

"The homecoming queen was a promiscuous drug addict," Mulder replied.
"Not to mention a victim of child abuse, sexual exploitation, and
according to the agent on the case, a demon named BOB."

Scully's eyebrow almost went up. But considering she still hadn't
figured out her connection to Laura Palmer, she decided to stay calm
and give Mulder the benefit of the doubt about Demon BOB.

"A demon named BOB? Did you investigate this case, Mulder?" she still
couldn't help asking.

"No, I didn't, as a matter of fact," Mulder replied. "I hadn't
discovered the X-Files at that point, and even if I had, this case
wasn't an X-File. It was a murder-- even if they did send out a guy
spookier than I am."

"That is?"

CLICK! The slide moved forward to a slick-haired, rather attractive
young man, smiling hurriedly at the camera. "Special Agent Dale Cooper,
FBI. Coop was always something of an oddball to the boys upstairs. He
believed in some esoteric Tibetan stuff I don't understand too well.
But hey, it worked for him. He was a good agent and he had a connection
to the very first of these murders back in 1988. So they sent him to
Washington."

"What happened to him?" Scully asked. "And what about Laura Palmer? Who
killed her? This demon?"

Mulder grinned at her. "Oh, that's the fascinating part, Scully," he
said. "After about two weeks, Agent Cooper sent news to DC that Laura
Palmer had been killed by her father, Leland Palmer-- who as it turns
out was also sexually abusing her. So the FBI closes the case, right?
But Cooper can't leave immediately-- he had been shot, implicated in a
drug deal, and there were still a few loose ends hanging about, bits
and pieces of the secret life of Laura Palmer, not to mention a few
random murders. But then the Bureau gets new information about the
case. According to Cooper, Leland didn't kill Laura-- well, he did,
except that he had been possessed when he did it."

"By this BOB?" Scully suggested dryly.

"Exactly. Of course the Bureau, being the scientific, rational people
they are, decided that Cooper had been dabbling a little too much in
Tibetan mysticism and stuck all his new information, along with the
closed file on Laura Palmer, down here. And three years ago today,
Cooper resigns the FBI. No reason, no notice, doesn't give a damn about
anything else. No one I know has heard from him since. Really very
interesting, considering he was a dedicated agent. Almost makes you
wonder--"

Scully nodded, trying to hide the shivers of fear that were rolling
around in her stomach. "So where do we come in now?"

"Another young woman is dead," Mulder said, advancing the slide
machine. "This is Penelope Larson, who is actually not a Twin Peaks
resident, but is from Pearl Lakes, two towns over. They found her body
late Saturday night and they called the Bureau yesterday. Her death
fits in the same pattern as Laura Palmer and of another young woman,
Teresa Banks, who died the year before Laura. They were all found dead-
-"

"Wrapped in plastic," Scully said, her voice sounding lost. "In other
words, we have a copycat. Who do you think did it, Mulder? I'm
detecting from the tone of your voice you suspect the stalwart Agent
Cooper?"

"Maybe I do," Mulder said lazily. "That's if he is Agent Cooper at all.
There's something about these tapes and reports as they go along that
aren't quite right. Besides, Cooper was a straight arrow, a Bureau man
through and through. It caused quite a stir around here when he
resigned. I wouldn't like it at all, but you may be on to something."

Mulder paused and looked at Scully. "What do you think? Our flight
leaves at eleven for Seattle and then it's off to the very bizarre
little town of Twin Peaks."

Scully stared at him. She was very aware of the transfer form in her
briefcase and she had a sneaking suspicion that Mulder was too. But
this case looked challenging, to say nothing of the fact that Laura
Palmer had turned up in her hallucination two days ago. Even as a
scientist, she had to admit something very weird was going on.

"Of course," she said weakly. "I'll meet you at the airport."

Mulder smiled at her again. "Great," he said. "Hey-- are you okay? You
look a little tense."

"I'm fine," Scully lied. "I just haven't slept well lately."

"All right, then," Mulder replied. "See you at the airport."

With that, Scully stood up and left the dark, unpleasant little
basement office, cursing herself silently as a coward. By the time she
reached her car, though, she was promising herself this would be the
last case. She'd tell him on the plane.

"Yeah," she muttered, tossing her briefcase on the seat next to her.
"Right."


Double R Cafe
3:40 PM

"It's a terrible thing," Shelly Briggs said, pouring another cup of
coffee. "That poor girl. And it's awful-- just like Laura. It's as if
someone doesn't want the past to rest."

"Shh, Shelly," Norma replied. "I'm sure that whoever's done this will
be caught soon. Sheriff Truman has already called in the FBI."

"I know," Shelly said. "But why would anyone do something like that?
Think of what Laura's death did to this town, and to An--"

"I said to be quiet, Shelly," Norma said firmly. "Now why don't you go
make sure there are enough clean dishes and if not, get one of the boys
back there to wash more."

"All right," Shelly said, walking toward the back. Norma breathed a
sigh of relief. She couldn't handle any more talk about the death of
that girl. It was too much to think about, too painful considering that
Penelope reminded her, not really of Laura Palmer, but of her sister,
who had become a stranger in the last three years. Every time Norma saw
her sister, she seemed less alive, more faded, a haunted person.

It had almost been a surprise to Norma that the dead blonde had been
this Penelope Larson and not Annie. For three years she had waited,
watching as Annie got more and more distant and fearful, and as Dale
Cooper thrived like the green bay tree.

"Hey, hey, Norma, turn that frown upside down!" Bobby called out,
breaking into her sad reverie. Norma shook her head and looked up at
Bobby. Ever since he had married Shelly, Bobby Briggs had become the
happiest person Norma knew. He had stopped selling drugs, smoking
cigarettes, everything. It was a miracle of sorts.

"Hey there, Bobby," Norma said. "Are you looking for Shelly?"

He smiled. "Oh, I don't know. Only if you won't run away with me," he
teased.

"I don't think Big Ed or Shelly would like that. We'd probably have to
run pretty far."

"I've got a fast car," Bobby replied blithely. "We could be halfway to
Mexico before they realized--"

"Realized what, Bobby Briggs?" Shelly asked, hands placed firmly on
hips.

"They realized that we were on our way back to Twin Peaks to get you,
of course," Bobby replied. "How's my girl?"

"Still on her shift for twenty more minutes, thank you," Shelly
replied. "Why don't you sit down or wait outside, Bobby?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bobby said, sliding into a booth. "Can you get me some
cherry pie?"

Shelly snorted and went to get her husband a piece of pie. The door to
the Double R opened, and a tall, austere woman, carrying a log, entered
the diner. Nobody paid her the least notice. They were all used to her.

"Good afternoon, Margaret," Norma said. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Yes, two cups. One for me, and one for the deceased soul of that young
woman," the Log Lady replied solemnly. Noticing Bobby smiling, she gave
him a disapproving glance. "Do you think it's funny, young man, that
the evil is rising again?"

"Excuse me?"

"The death of this young woman Penelope is a great evil for us all,"
the Log Lady said, sitting down across from him. "It's happening
again."

"What's happening?" Bobby asked.

"The darkness is roaming loose again," the Log Lady told him. "My log
heard it in the air, but I could not believe it. Can't you feel the
darkness? It seeks to consume souls--"

There was a sudden crash of dishware. Everyone in the Double R, who had
been listening to the Log Lady, turned their heads to see Norma,
holding the saucer for one of the cups of coffee. Everything else--
cups, saucer, coffee-- lay on the floor in shards. Norma's face was
extraordinarily pale, and her hands were shaking.

Bobby was the first to jump to his feet. "Let me help you clean that
up, Norma," he said hastily. "Why don't you just sit down for a second
and this'll all be out of the way in no time?"

Norma's lips were trembling, and her eyes were focused on the Log Lady,
in something that was almost anger and almost horror. The other woman
looked up at the lovely blonde and shook her head as Bobby started to
clean up the mess.

"You know, too, don't you?" the Log Lady asked. "It's coming for us
all-- my log heard it in the cry of the owls. Where did you hear the
howl of the demon?"

Bobby, hands full of broken dish, sighed. Nothing like mystical old
coots to complicate an afternoon. "Shelly, honey?" he yelled toward his
wife. "Can you get me a broom?"


(continued from 1A)

Great Northern Hotel
7:30 PM

"Two rooms, please," Fox Mulder told the bell clerk. "Adjoining rooms,
if that's possible. We may have a reservation."

"Yes, sir. What name will that be under, then?"

"One for Fox Mulder, the other for Dana Scully, both of which are
billable to the FBI," Mulder said. The bell clerk blinked.

"Oh!" he said, with dawning understanding. "You're the FBI agents?"

"Yes," Mulder said simply. "Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. This is my
partner, Dr. Dana Scully."

He had remembered her title. Scully barely stifled a grin. It was nice
when he did that. The plane ride to Seattle had been strange. Mulder
had persisted in playing footsy while she read dossiers about the
history of this case-- fascinating reading, to be sure, but not
particularly erotic. Whoever or whatever BOB was, he had at least three
dead young women to his credit, including the mysterious Laura Palmer,
whose photos had managed to unnerve Scully throughout the flight.

But even with all the macabre reading, Mulder's smiles, his very subtle
game of seduction, and his occasional suggestive comments had left
Scully feeling almost giddy when they'd gotten off the plane. The car
ride had been even more erotically charged and Scully was almost as
surprised as the desk clerk they were checking into separate rooms.

"Yes, sir. We already have your rooms waiting," the bell clerk said.
"Ms. Horne was informed earlier today you'd need them."

"Ms. Horne?" Scully asked.

"She runs the hotel," the bell clerk said. "She has also requested that
you speak to her immediately in her private suite."

"About what?" Mulder asked.

"I'm not sure, Agent Mulder," he replied. "Ms. Horne keeps her own
counsel. If you would follow me, the staff will make sure your luggage
gets to the right suites."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Mulder shrugged. "All right,"
he said. "Show us the way."

As they walked to Ms. Horne's private suite Mulder dropped back beside
Scully with a quizzical look in his eye. "What do you think of this
place, Scully?"

"Atmospheric," Scully replied.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," Mulder said. "This place doesn't give
you the creeps?"

"Not really," Scully said. "It's nostalgic. Very woodsy. I think I kind
of like it."

The bell clerk stopped at a door. It didn't look different from any of
the others with the number 119 gleaming brightly and the dark wood
finish. He knocked quickly.

A muffled voice answered incomprehensibly.

"It's Dutreuil, ma'am," the bell clerk said. "The FBI agents are here."

After a pause, the door swung open slowly. "Thank you, Dutreuil," a
surprisingly young female voice said. "I appreciate the help."

"Of course, Ms. Horne," Dutreuil said. Turning to Mulder and Scully,
the bell clerk nodded and walked away. Mulder and Scully, both
surprised by the quick departure, looked at each other, shrugged, and
walked into the suite.

It was a simple office with a large desk, some filing cabinets, a
bookshelf, and even a computer sitting in the corner. There was also a
fire in the fireplace, where Ms. Horne sat in an old-fashioned
wheelchair across from two empty wing chairs.

Scully's eyes discreetly surveyed the young woman's profile. She was
stunning. Dark hair curled prettily around her face, which was pale and
beautiful, reminding Scully a little of the 1940's movie stars her own
mother was so fond of. But all of the beauty didn't stop Scully noting
a few scars-- not disfiguring, but certainly jarring-- running across
Ms. Horne's jawline and hands.

"Please sit down," the young woman said in a weary, but beguiling
voice. "I'm sure you've had a long trip today. Would you like something
to eat?"

"We're fine," Mulder assured her, sitting down and smiling. Scully,
very aware of Ms. Horne's beauty and knockout charm, bit her lip. She
had no right to be the least bit jealous, but she couldn't help but
notice Mulder definitely approved of the young woman. "It's a pleasure
to meet you, Ms. Horne."

"Please call me Audrey," the woman replied in the same smooth voice.
"Ms. Horne makes me feel too ancient, and I already feel strange enough
with this wheelchair."

"I'm very sorry," Scully said, interrupting. "The bell clerk said you
wanted to see us? Are you all right?"

"Oh, it's okay," Audrey said softly, managing not to sound self-pitying
at all. "I was paralyzed in an act of civil disobedience. I'm lucky to
be alive. I miss it, though. Weirdest thing that ever happened to me. I
was chained to the vault door and then the bomb went off. The blast
severed one of the chains holding me to the door and I was caught in
the debris. I did better than everyone else in the bank, I'm afraid--"

Her voice trailed off, and her lovely blue eyes were lost in thought,
staring into the firelight. Mulder gawked at her for a moment while
Scully surveyed her more critically. Audrey shook her head, suddenly
coming out of her memories.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot all about being polite," she said suddenly,
flashing a bright smile at the two FBI agents. "Hello, I'm Audrey
Horne. I run the Great Northern Hotel here in Twin Peaks. What are your
names?"

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder said. "A pleasure to meet you,
Audrey."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Agent Mulder," Audrey said, flashing
another grin. Then she looked over at Scully. "And you?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully," Scully added. "Nice to meet you, too."

"You're here because of Penelope Larson," Audrey said, her smile fading
into a contemplative expression. "It's a great tragedy, of course."

"But?" Scully asked, arching an eyebrow.

"You're not going to find anything that really helps," Audrey said.
"Whoever killed Penelope will get away with it and all it will get you
is a lot of heartache. If I were you I'd get out of town as soon as
possible. It's not worth it."

"What do you know about Penelope's murder, Audrey?" Mulder asked
gently. "Did you see anything?"

"I didn't have to be there," Audrey replied. "I was here when Agent
Cooper investigated Laura Palmer's murder. It was the worst thing that
ever happened to this town. We found out things that should have never
seen the light of day. When we discovered Leland killed Laura and then
Madeleine Ferguson, we thought the worst was over. But now it seems
like it's happening all over again. I don't want anymore sorrow in this
town for my friends or my family."

"Is that a threat, Ms. Horne?" Scully asked coldly.

"No, Agent Scully," Audrey said, leaning back smoothly. "It's a
promise. If you tear this town apart with your investigation, you will
find as much pain in it for yourself as for everyone else."

Scully regarded her emotionlessly. "Is that all, Ms. Horne?"

"I believe it is," Audrey replied. "Good evening, agents. I hope you
enjoy the Great Northern."

With that, she turned her head and her wheelchair and left them in
silence.


Great Northern Hotel
11:27 PM

Mulder was right, Scully decided as she looked over the Laura Palmer
file for the eighth or ninth time. This place was somewhat creepy.
Maybe it was the woods around it, maybe it was the shadows on the walls
and maybe it was just the sound of the owls. But all she wanted was to
curl up under a blanket and forget that tomorrow she was going to have
to do an autopsy on Penelope Larson. Sighing, she looked down at the
file again, where Laura Palmer's blue-lipped face waited, maybe
forever.

"How do I know you?" Scully murmured, looking at the face. "Hmm?"

There was a sudden knock on the door. Scully jumped about three feet.
"Who is it?"

"George Lucas," Mulder called back. Scully, with a sigh of relief, took
a deep breath and let her partner in. He greeted her, rather
unexpectedly considering they were working, with a long, slow kiss.
Scully almost pulled back, but decided to forget the repercussions--
just for tonight.

"Mmm, and good evening to you, too, Agent Mulder," she whispered in his
ear as Mulder kicked the door shut behind them. "How are you?"

"I can't sleep," Mulder replied, pausing just long enough kiss her
again. "I thought maybe I needed to get some exercise."

"That's hardly flattering, Agent Mulder," Scully replied, wrapping her
arms around his neck. "Why didn't you go run instead?"

Mulder pretended to look abashed. "I guess my secret's out," he
admitted, walking them over to the bed. "I'm afraid that BOB will get
me, Scully. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Scully, finding herself sitting on the bed all of the sudden, tried to
look thoughtful as Mulder nuzzled her neck. "I don't know, Agent
Mulder. You're awfully old to be afraid of BOB," she said. "Besides,
you're the man, aren't you? Shouldn't you be protecting me from demons
and ghosts?"

"Good idea," Mulder said. "But that requires me to sleep here tonight
as well. You don't mind, do you?"

"It is against FBI policy--" Scully began. Mulder's lower lip began to
stick out in the most attractive pout. Without a word, she snatched it
between her own lips and slowly rolled it back and forth, kneading his
shoulders sensuously as he lowered her back onto the bed. She broke the
kiss and whispered mischievously, "But I won't tell if you don't."

"I'm not saying a word," Mulder replied, kissing her cheek. "Are you
saying a word?"

"Not me," Scully replied, removing her oversized t-shirt and pulling
Mulder down to her. "Not one single word--"


To be continued... (no, it's not a WIP, either ;-) )

Full of Secrets Day 2
by Jennifer-Oksana (jenniferoksana@yahoo.com)
All information at http://www.katido.com/jennyo/fullofsecrets.html


TUESDAY, MARCH 31, 1992
"Let no one be mistaken. I only achieve simplicity with enormous
effort."        --Clarice Lispector

xx
Twin Peaks Sheriff's Office
9:00 AM

There were dozens of doughnuts laid out in neat, almost decadent rows
on the conference tables. Mulder's eyes almost bulged when he saw them.
It had to be illegal to have that many doughnuts in one place. Then
again, the sheriff and his two deputies were already making inroads on
them when Mulder and Scully finally entered the small conference room.

"Good morning," one of them said, getting to his feet and nodding.
"Sheriff Harry Truman."

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder replied, flashing his badge.
There was an awkward silence as Harry looked Mulder over. Scully kept
looking around the room and at Mulder. Both of the deputies looked at
Mulder as though he were someone else, then toward the sheriff, then
back at Mulder again.

"I could have sworn," one of them muttered.

"What?" Mulder asked.

"You look like someone I saw here before, but I can't place you," he
said. "Hawk, Harry, doesn't he look like someone else?"

The other deputy cocked his head. "Andy, you may be right," he said.
"Maybe it's just me, but I think you're right."

The deputy and Harry exchanged a knowing glance. Scully stifled a grin
as Mulder tried to answer the question without getting too flustered.
He wasn't doing too well.

"Well, Deputy, I've never been here in Twin Peaks before, so you must
be thinking of someone else," Mulder said. "At least, as far as I
know."

Harry and Scully exchanged a glance, and grinned at each other.
Straightening his face, he turned toward Scully, and asked with studied
innocence, "And you would be?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully," Scully answered, hiding her grin as Mulder
and the deputy tried not to look at each other. "And your deputies,
Sheriff?"

"Of course," Harry said. "This is Deputy Hawk, and the one wondering
about your partner, that's Andy."

Hawk nodded smoothly, and Andy tried to smile. A small beeping noise
suddenly went off in the room. Andy looked down.

"Oooh! Excuse me, everyone," he said, standing up and hurrying out of
the room. Harry smiled.

"He's on baby duty this week. You'll have to excuse him," the sheriff
explained. "You're here about the Penelope Larson murder. Please, sit
down. Have a doughnut. They're fresh."

Mulder and Scully sat, and Scully noticed Mulder grabbed a chocolate
long john without any further invitation.

"Well, first things first," Harry said. "I assume that you've read the
case history." Mulder nodded and Harry continued. "I hate to admit it,
but this case has us at a loss. Penelope Larson wasn't connected at all
to this case or anything involving the investigation. We've tried to
find a connection, but so far the choice of victim seems random."

"Has an autopsy been done?" Scully asked. "I'm a forensic pathologist,
it would be no problem."

"An autopsy hasn't been done yet. Doc Hayward did a preliminary exam
because of the time factor, but they told us one of you was a
pathologist, ma'am," Harry said, looking at Scully carefully. She could
almost hear the question in his voice. Who let this little lady into
forensic pathology? She decided that she was going to head off
questions before this hulking cowboy could get them out.

"I got my M.D. at Georgetown," Scully replied snippily. "Top of my
class. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't doubt it, ma'am. No offense meant," Truman replied. Scully bit
her tongue. She was too good at being suspicious. These people had just
been hit with another gruesome ritual murder and despite the Bureau's
efforts in 1989 and the closing of the case, there was still a dead
body. And considering their lead suspect was FBI--

Mulder stepped in to cover Scully's sudden silence. "What can you tell
us about your suspects?"

"That's assuming we have suspects right now, Agent Mulder," Harry said.

"Do we?" Mulder asked. "I thought--"

Harry shook his head. "Frankly, Agent Mulder, we don't have any
concrete leads. We have wild suspicions and conjecture and a list of
the usual suspects, but nothing we think is truly likely."

"Isn't Dale Cooper a suspect?" Scully asked. The men all looked at her
with surprise.

"Agent Cooper?" Harry asked. "Are you serious?"

"He was the head investigator on this case," Scully said. "He had to
deal with the stresses of the crimes, and when he left the Bureau--" If
Cooper hadn't done this, it was going to be well nigh impossible to
find the killer.

"Dale Cooper is a good man," Harry said evenly. "If you suspect him
because he left the FBI, well, you can just park your suspicions at the
door, Agent."

"It's not because he left the FBI," Scully protested. "These things fit
a profile--"

Harry shook his head emphatically. "I don't know if you've read much
about this case or this town, Agent Scully, but the only way to handle
this case was strangely. Coop might not have been by the book but he
was honest and one of the best investigators I've been privileged to
work with. Coop didn't kill this girl."

Scully bit her lip and nodded. Mulder took up Scully's line of
questioning calmly.

"All right," Mulder said. "So do you have any suspects at all?"

"Anyone I have any evidence against? No," Harry replied. "As I said at
this point it's all conjecture and guesswork and very little for us to
go further on."

Mulder nodded grimly. "I guess we have our work cut out for us, then."

"You have no idea, Agent Mulder," Harry replied. "This isn't a simple
case. Even if we had a human suspect, there's still the supernatural
element to be looked into."

At Scully's unapproving glare, Harry added, "You understand that the
supernatural element is probably vital to the case, right? We won't get
anywhere if you don't understand that."

"We do understand, Sheriff," Mulder assured him. "My partner may be
somewhat skeptical, but we both understand that Leland Palmer was
possessed."

Scully sighed. She tried not to listen to Mulder and Truman guardedly
discussing BOB and the entire dark history of the town. Instead, she
stared out the window thinking about who in this town could possibly be
a suspect in the murder. Most of the original players in Laura Palmer's
death were dead, incapacitated, or reformed. Who would do this? It just
didn't make sense.

"Agent Scully?" Harry asked. "Are you ready to do the autopsy today?"

Jarred, Scully turned and blinked at him. "I--" she said. "Oh, of
course. I'm sorry. I'm ready to do the autopsy right now."

"That's good," Harry said. "Penelope Larson's family is planning the
funeral for Wednesday, so the sooner the better."

"Of course," Scully said. "No problem. No problem at all."


Dale Cooper's House
11:35 AM

It was another beautiful day in Twin Peaks, and Annie Blackburne was
wishing, not for the first time, that she was dead or anywhere else,
even back in the convent. But she couldn't leave. She had a duty to do
here and no matter how unpleasant it was she had to keep doing it.

Carefully, she opened the door to her home and looked around. The house
looked empty, but with Cooper you could never tell for sure.

"Dale?" Annie called. "Dale, are you here?"

"Dale's not home. Leave a message and he may answer, he may not,"
Cooper replied. He stepped out of the study where he'd been working on-
- something. Annie shivered. He had that look in his eye again. "Of
course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

"I didn't see your car when I came in. I thought maybe you went for
coffee," Annie said, her voice trailing off. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to devise a method to catch Penelope Larson's killer,"
Cooper replied, smiling at her. Annie hid her shiver. It was the
sincerity of his voice that was the worst. He could truly say that
without lying. "This crime is deplorable. That someone would copycat a
killing--"

Annie bit her lip. Finally, she found something suitably innocuous to
say. "It's horrible. Do you have any ideas who did it?"

"Not yet," Cooper replied. "But I believe that this is the cry of a
tortured soul, Annie, someone whose inner darkness overwhelmed him."

"I'm sure you're right," Annie said faintly. "Did you hear the FBI sent
out agents to look into the case?"

"I hadn't, but I'm not surprised," Cooper replied. "I should meet with
them. Maybe they're old acquaintances of mine. I knew a lot of good
people in the Bureau."

"I saw one of them going to the hospital to do an autopsy on the body.
She was really pretty," Annie said. "Really young, too."

Dale Cooper nodded seriously. For a moment, he looked like the man
Annie had fallen in love with instead of a bad knock-off-- earnest,
kind, diligent. And then he smiled at her. Annie stood still and
prayed. But he wasn't moving-- this time. He was just talking.

"Don't worry, Annie," he said. "I'm sure everything will turn out just
dandy. Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?"


Double R Cafe
6:16 PM

It was as if time had literally stopped back in about 1955, Scully
thought as she surveyed the quaint little diner Mulder had told her to
meet him at. The entire place screamed atmosphere with that
undercurrent of creepy that Scully had found so pervasive in the town
of Twin Peaks.

"Good evening, miss, welcome to the Double R," a lovely middle-aged
woman said, smiling at her. "Would you like something?"

"I'm actually looking for my partner," Scully said, trying to be
pleasant. "He's a taller man, dark hair?"

"You mean Mr. Mulder?" Norma said. Scully nodded. "Oh, he's here. I
think he just stepped out to the little boy's room. You must be Agent
Scully. I'm Norma Hurley. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Scully said with a smile. "This is a wonderful
diner you have here, Norma."

"Thank you," Norma said. "Oh, look, there he is. You have a good
evening, Agent Scully."

"Thank you," Scully said, walking over to Mulder. He was grinning like
a kid in a candy store, which was quite annoying. "So, how was your
day?"

"Remarkably unproductive," Mulder replied with a grin. "Sit down,
Scully, and order the meatloaf and the cherry pie. It'll be the best
meal of your life. I'm not kidding. No wonder Dale Cooper moved here.
The food alone is heaven, and the fresh air--"

"Mulder, I just spent six hours in the basement doing an autopsy,"
Scully murmured. "If there's any fresh air here, I haven't had time to
smell it. Can we sit down?"

Mulder nodded, too cheerfully to be believed, and sat them down in a
little booth. Another pretty blonde walked up to them. Scully sighed.
Did they have any ugly women in this town?

"What will you two have?" the waitress asked. "Hey, Agent Mulder. Are
you back *again*?"

"More meatloaf, Shelly, another slice of that fantastic cherry pie and
another cup of coffee," Mulder said with a smile.

"Coming right up, Agent Mulder," Shelly said. "And for your lady
friend?"

"Can I just start with a cup of coffee, lots of cream, lots of sugar?"
Scully asked.

"Sure thing," Shelly replied, hurrying away. Mulder looked at Scully
and smiled again. Scully was almost impressed. For someone who had a
remarkably unproductive day, Mulder was far too happy.

"What did you discover in the autopsy?" Mulder asked.

"I don't think this is the place," Scully replied. "Let's just say the
results were interesting and leave it at that. Why was your day so
unproductive?"

"Let's just say that we're gonna be here a while with what we have
here," Mulder replied as Shelly returned with coffee. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Agent Mulder. So how do you two like Twin Peaks
so far?" Shelly asked.

"It's a great town," Mulder said. "With great food."

Scully, unimpressed with Mulder's flirting, took her cup of coffee and
sipped at it. She had to pause and blink after her first taste.

"Wow," she said, smiling. "Wow."

"Told you so," Mulder said. "Get this lady some meatloaf and a slice of
pie."

"Of course, Agent Mulder," Shelly replied, walking away again.

The door banged open and Scully, who despite the good coffee was still
not in the best of moods, jerked her head over to see who had entered
the Double R. Her eyes widened, and she almost made the sign of the
cross.

"Annie! Dale--" Norma said. Scully noticed Norma wasn't very fond of
Dale, either.

"Norma, how good to see you," Dale Cooper said. His eyes searched the
room and stopped the minute he noticed Mulder and Scully. A strange
half-grin crossed his face. Scully's stomach did a flip-flop. She
didn't care if the Pope himself gave Dale Cooper a testimonial, there
was something not quite right about the man. "Would you excuse me for a
minute, ladies?"

"Of course, Dale," Norma said. Annie took a deep breath. The FBI agents
were both so young, and so clearly involved. Would that make it easier
or harder for Dale-- or what she was calling Dale-- to prey on them?
Especially considering the woman was looking at Cooper so intensely?

Cooper, still smiling like a crocodile, walked over to Mulder and
Scully's booth. He extended his hand to the agents.

"I hate to intrude, but I can recognize Bureau folks a mile away. Hi,
Dale Cooper," he said. Mulder took Cooper's hand and shook it.

"Fox Mulder," Mulder replied. "I've heard a lot about you, Cooper."

"Mulder? The Fox Mulder? Aren't you the golden boy of ISU? Patterson's
darling?" Cooper asked. Mulder looked a little embarrassed. "How is the
old man?"

"I don't know," Mulder said smoothly. "I transferred out of ISU a while
back. I'm working on a different project now."

"Are you?" Cooper said cheerfully. "What's that?"

"Files the FBI usually consigns to the garbage can, focused mostly on
the paranormal, known as the X-Files. From what I hear, it's right up
your alley."

Cooper nodded thoughtfully. "What a wonderful idea. I would have loved
to work on cases like that. I'm assuming you two are experts on the
subject-- though I don't see the connection with this case."

"What about BOB?" Scully asked quietly. Cooper's eyes widened slightly.
"You mentioned him in your reports to the Bureau."

"I'm sorry," Cooper stammered, clearly unnerved. "I don't believe we've
introduced ourselves yet. Dale Cooper."

"Dana Scully," she said icily.

"Nice to meet you. I hear you're an MD."

"Forensic pathology," Scully replied. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Anything interesting in the autopsy on Penelope Larson?" Cooper asked,
trying to sound nonchalant. Scully shrugged.

"I'm afraid that this isn't the proper locale for such discussions,
Cooper," she replied smoothly. "This being official police business,
you understand."

"Of course," Cooper said. "I'm a little rusty on procedure these days.
But I am very interested in this case and I'm more than willing to
help. So please keep in touch."

"Certainly," Mulder said. "I'd be fascinated to hear your insights on
the matter."

"Wonderful," Cooper said, standing and clapping Mulder on the shoulder.
"Wonderful. Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time. Enjoy your
dinner."

"Thank you," Mulder said. Scully smiled dutifully as the man walked
away. Her pulse was racing and she could feel her foot tapping the
floor as she took angry gulps of coffee. Mulder looked at his partner
and smiled. "I thought he was pleasant, Scully-- didn't you?"

"Uh-huh," Scully replied, eyes focused on the back of Cooper's head.
"Yeah."


Great Northern Hotel
11:47 PM

Even with Mulder's comforting presence in her bed, Scully wasn't
sleeping well. There was something that she couldn't shake, something
more than her suspicion about Dale Cooper, something more than even her
vision of Laura. She was genuinely afraid of falling asleep, and kept
tossing and turning, taking time to stare up at the ceiling in the
meantime.

Penelope Larson had been completely unconnected to the Laura Palmer
murders. There was no sign of rape, no sign of drug abuse, nothing.
Penelope Larson just happened to be a blonde eighteen-year-old girl.
Maybe it was unconnected to the larger case-- just a copycat of the
Palmer murder. But if that was so, why not kill Penelope on the
anniversary of Laura's murder? Why wait until the 27th, the night that
Agent Cooper and Annie Blackburne escaped from this "Black Lodge"--
whatever that was? From Dr. Hayward's exam and Scully's own findings,
it was clear Penelope Larson had been killed that night, even if she
had been found later the next day. Someone had meant to send a message-
- but what? And who?

Scully sighed, and turned over again. Finally, too tired to keep her
eyes open, she fell asleep--


"Hey there, Yogi Bear!" someone called.

Scully opened her eyes. She wasn't precisely in bed. In fact, she had
no idea where she was, except that she was sitting up and the world was
strangely dark--

"Are you afraid of the darkness or are you afraid of the truth within
you?" a voice with a southern drawl asked. "Why are you afraid to
believe?"

Scully wanted to say something, maybe just that she wasn't afraid, but
the room changed again, melting into wax--

"You shine like a candle and burn men like moths," Dale Cooper said,
smiling. He stood over a bed and his eyes were wrong somehow. "Do you
like the pretty forms their corpses make, all slain for you? The
slaughter of innocents by an innocent, burning like a holy fire. Are
you still burning? What light do you give the world?"

She was lost in this world, paralyzed and voiceless. If she could have
screamed, she would have.

"Don't be afraid!" the first voice called. It was somehow familiar, and
Scully tried to see her, the woman with the lilting, little-girl voice.
Where did she know that voice? "I was afraid. I let the darkness
swallow me. Don't let it happen to you."

There was no sense in the motion, only an ominous promise of something.
Flashes of scenes-- blood on a white cross, hanging in the air-- a
white light and a terrifying face, crying, "They ain't gonna take Duane
Barry-- not this time--" blood on the hardwood floor and a death mask
that could be her own but seemed to swirl and become another's-- flash-
- flash-- flash--

"I am the darkness and the desire," someone intoned. "Take me and you
will know the true circle, the true life--"

Then it was all darkness. And then--

Strange, almost syncopated music filled the air. Two women, mirror
images of each other except one was blonde and the other was brunette,
sat on a couch. They smiled at Scully, who realized they were both
Laura-- Laura again, multiplied by the nightmare-vision.

Between them sat a giant. He smiled at Scully and made a gesture with
his hands, turning the palms upwards and nodding at her.

"The truth is easy to see, but hard to understand," he said. "I know
three things that you must know."

Laura smiled confidently at Scully, who found herself finally able to
move and to smile back. It wasn't any more comforting than being
paralyzed. The giant began speaking.

"First, that this has happened before and will happen again and that
the now is your only concern."

"What's happening now?" Scully asked. "I don't understand!"

The brunette Laura-- Maddy Ferguson? Scully had almost forgotten about
the dead identical cousin-- shook her head and tapped her nose.

"You know what's happening. You just have to believe it," Maddy said,
her voice strangely jerky. The giant began speaking again, looking down
at Scully.

"Second, that the father who is not your father will point your way and
that you must not fear it."

This was a dream; it had to be. The logic had that strange, intuitively
correct feeling, Scully realized. It wasn't clear or reasonable on the
surface-- it had to be analyzed to yield meaning. But even if it were
just a dream, this was important. She looked around the room,
memorizing the way it looked, the way it felt.

"Third, that you must know your own desire."

Laura laughed. Her grin was almost shark-like, and she began to get
hysterical, standing up and looking around the room. There were no
windows. For some reason, Scully didn't like that. Why weren't there
any windows?

Then Laura started to dance, rhythmlessly, jerking to the music.
Madeleine looked at Scully, raising a finger to her lips.

"Two is just one looked at in a different way," she finally said.

Scully wanted to say something-- anything that would explain what
Madeleine had just told her-- but then Laura, in a sudden jerky move,
pirouetted right into Scully, chanting something, and she, stunned and
out of breath--


Woke up, next to a snoring Mulder. Scully gasped again, feeling around
to make sure she was there and not still dreaming. She laid down,
noticing that Mulder had stolen most of the covers and the hair on her
arms was standing on end.

"Okay," she muttered herself while she tugged at the covers. "That was
not just weird, it was downright apocalyptic..."


To Be Continued

Full of Secrets, Day 3
by Jennifer-Oksana (jenniferoksana@yahoo.com)
Disclaimers and other parts at
http://www.katido.com/jennyo/fullofsecrets.html

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 1, 1992
"We are here and it is now. Further than that, all human knowledge is
moonshine."     --H.L. Mencken

xx
Great Northern Hotel
7:30 AM

Audrey Horne, like her father before her, was loved and feared by the
staff of her hotel. They never knew when she'd burst into the kitchens
or on the maids, demanding ridiculous things like more spice in the
fried eggs or linens so white they would blind a guest. It made working
at the Great Northern exhausting and entertaining.

This morning, Audrey had demanded a special breakfast for four.
Dutreuil, who knew her schedule better than she did, was completely
taken off guard by the request. Audrey rarely ate with others, and when
she did, Dutreuil knew whom, when, and why.

"Miss Horne wants pancakes! Lots and lots of pancakes!" the head chef
cried as Dutreuil walked into the room. "Here, for Miss Horne and her
guests. They're waiting for them."

"Excuse me?" Dutreuil asked.

"Mr. Horne is home from Montreal and he has a brand-new flour that makes
the best pancakes he ever tasted," the chef said. "He insisted we make
pancakes this morning and then Miss Horne invited those FBI people to
breakfast and-- take the tray! The eggs will get cold. We'll send the
rest as soon as it's ready."

"All right, all right," Dutreuil said, walking out with the tray of
eggs. It smelled vile, and there was no doubt Jerry Horne had found this
brand new delicacy to spring on his niece and her guests. Grimacing,
Dutreuil walked to Audrey's suite and knocked.

"Breakfast!" Jerry cried, throwing open the door. "Oooh, and from the
smell of it, these are my specially poached duck eggs marinated in eel
sauce. The Quebecois eat them like candy. How are the pancakes coming
along?"

"I was told they'd be sent here when they were done," Dutreuil replied.
He looked into the room. The two FBI agents and Audrey were sitting
around a dining table. The male agent was laughing heartily and Audrey
was grinning like a champion.

"Thanks, Diptree," Jerry said, snatching the tray. "We'll call if we
need you."

He shut the door on the surprised clerk, and presented the tray to his
niece and her new friends.

"Look, look, look what I brought home from Montreal. Though the real
prize is the flour I found in Japan. It's a strange variant of rice
flour-- I can't go into the details, but it makes *great* pancakes,"
Jerry gushed. "They've got this great show there. Champion chefs go at
it, kind of battling it out in a Kitchen Stadium-- American Gladiators
meets Julia Child, and mm! The food is exquisite." Jerry lifted the
cover off the tray and presented it to the group. "Ryori no Tetsujin, I
think it's called."

Scully looked at the eggs, which looked like nothing she'd ever seen
called food, and tried not to grimace. To her surprise, both Mulder and
Audrey took one and Audrey immediately took a large bite. Jerry beamed
like a proud mother.

"Aren't they exquisite? The secret is that the eels, before they're made
into marinade, are cooked on top of a beef steak seasoned with pepper
and lemon and coriander, and then the drippings that gives off are used
in the brine that helps turn the eels into the marinade, which the eggs
are then introduced into," Jerry said enthusiastically. "Try one, Agent
Scully."

Audrey, having swallowed her bite of egg, smiled brightly. "They're
yummy. Don't you think so, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder, who'd also eaten some of the delicacy, swallowed slowly and
paused a moment. "Wow. That was delicious. Try one, Scully."

But before Scully could sample one of the well-marinated eggs, the door
swung open again and three hotel waiters came in, bearing a steaming
tray of pancakes, and another full of syrups, butter, toast, powder
sugar, juice, and coffee.

"Excellent!" Jerry cried. "If you think the eggs are good, wait until
you try these pancakes. They'll knock your socks off."

Scully, eyes round and a little fearful of Jerry's frantic joy over
food, nodded primly and got a plate. She quickly discovered she had no
need to worry. The pancakes were even better than Jerry had said they'd
be, and the orange juice was perfect-- pulpy and freshly squeezed.

"So, I know it's official FBI business and all, but have you found
anything about Penelope yet?" Audrey finally asked about halfway through
breakfast.

"Nothing we can disclose," Scully replied professionally, just as Mulder
said, "Not a damn thing yet, Audrey."

Audrey looked at her uncle and then back at the FBI agents. "I may have
a little information for you," she said shyly. "Penelope Larson isn't
from Twin Peaks. Everyone knows that, of course. But you want to hear
something interesting? She worked at the Horne's department store in her
town before she died, at the *perfume counter*."

When neither agent answered, Audrey sighed. "Laura Palmer worked at the
perfume counter at Horne's. It was sort of a gateway to her job at
One-Eyed Jack's."

"But Penelope Larson didn't work at One-Eyed Jack's," Mulder
interrupted. "The place has been closed down."

"That's true," Audrey replied coyly. "But I think it's connected. Laura
was someone important here, but with all these secrets. But Penelope is
a reverse of Laura, even down to her initials."

"When did you get a degree in crime-fighting, Audrey?" Jerry asked
through a mammoth bite of pancake.

"I got a good education in the field from Agent Cooper," Audrey replied
archly. "It's better than the law degree you have, Uncle Jerry."

"Truer words were never spoken," Jerry replied. "You've left the FBI
speechless, I notice."

Audrey smiled at Mulder and Scully, who were both in mid-bite. Mulder
swallowed first.

"I, well," Mulder said, "Those are interesting theories. I'm not sure if
they're one hundred percent accurate, but they're definitely not
absolutely wrong."

Scully smiled, but there was a definite strain to her smile. Audrey had
obviously known Penelope Larson had worked at Horne's before today, and
hadn't told anyone, saving it for a bon mot over exotic pancakes and
duck eggs. She didn't like that at all. This town thrived on their dirty
little secrets, and too many young girls were dead because of it.

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," Audrey said with a coquettish little glance.
Scully caught herself rolling her eyes. She glanced at her watch. They
needed to get to the Sheriff's department in twenty minutes and she was
tired of the small talk and the exotic food. They were in Twin Peaks to
investigate, not to play games.

"Mulder, we're supposed to be at the sheriff's department at
eight-thirty and it's eight-o-nine," Scully said, her voice sounding
shrill and jealous next to Audrey's. Mulder, surprised, looked down at
his watch and sighed, quietly pushing back his plate. "I'm afraid that
we're going to have to go, Audrey. It's been wonderful, though. And
Jerry, thank you so much for breakfast."

"Of course, Agent Scully," Audrey said smoothly. "Thank you for having
breakfast with us, and I hope you continue to enjoy your time here at
the Great Northern. Good luck, Agent Scully-- Agent Mulder--"

Scully nodded again, standing up and helping Mulder do the same with a
sharp little glare. He quietly pushed his chair in, nodded to Audrey and
Jerry, and followed his fiery-eyed partner out into the hallway, not
saying a word.

When the door shut behind them, Jerry shrugged. "Amateurs," he said.
"You could tell those two anything and they'd believe it, Audrey."

"I could tell you anything and you'd believe it, Uncle Jerry," Audrey
answered, shrugging prettily. "I like them. And that Agent Mulder is
really cute."

"Audrey, didn't you learn anything from Agent Cooper?" Jerry asked.

"I sure did," Audrey replied. "But I learned more from Daddy."

Her eyes lit up wickedly as she looked away from her uncle and a small,
secret smile stayed on her face.



Twin Peaks Sheriff's Office
8:42 AM

"Good morning, everyone," Scully said, walking into the conference room
with Mulder at her heels. She looked annoyed and he looked bewildered.

"Good morning," Harry replied.

"Sorry for the hold-up," Mulder said, sliding into a chair. "We were
having breakfast with Jerry and Audrey Horne. They're fascinating
people."

"You could say that," Hawk said. "Did Jerry spring some godawful
delicacy on you?"

"Actually, the pancakes were delicious," Mulder replied. "Some sort of
Japanese rice flour or something."

"They were really wonderful," Scully said, clearly very tired of the
Hornes. "Maybe we can talk about police business now?"

The men all looked at her and nodded, right before the door flew open
and Andy ran in with a huge grin on his face.

"Andy Jr. did the cutest thing this morning!" he announced, walking into
the room. "She was eating her breakfast and-- oh. Am I interrupting?"

"It's all right, Andy," Mulder said. "We were just getting started."

"Oh," Andy said. "So Andy Jr. was eating her oatmeal and she saw me with
a doughnut and coffee and she said, clear as a bell, 'Andy want Daddy
food!' Isn't it adorable? She thinks doughnuts are daddy food!"

Everyone except Scully laughed, and Scully managed a polite smile. She
was still irritated about the Hornes. She couldn't explain it, but she
knew Audrey was up to something and Jerry reminded her a little too much
of a used car salesman.

"Agent Scully, you have the results of the autopsy?" Harry said, turning
his attention back to her. Scully nodded briskly.

"What I discovered in my results is that Penelope Larson's death
occurred between eight and eleven o'clock on March 27," Scully began
formally. "Her body was transported to the site where she was found,
most likely in a car trunk, and that she was bludgeoned to death.
According to her friend Cheyenne Wilson, who was the last person we know
of who saw her alive, Penelope left the Wilson home, which has been
described as near a heavily wooded area, at about seven o'clock. My
examination revealed rope fibers in Penelope's wrists, much lower down
than Laura Palmer's. There are also signs Penelope was gagged."

"Was she on drugs? Did the killer assault her?" Harry asked.

"No," Scully replied. "Her toxicological came back clean and I found no
puncture wounds. Dr. Hayward had already discovered the "O" underneath
her ring finger, which is a link to the other cases, as well as the
plastic used to wrap the body. But there is no sign that Penelope Larson
used drugs or had had sexual intercourse in the last twenty-four hours
of her life. However--"

"Yes?" Harry said.

"I want to send the body and the plastic back to the fingerprinting labs
in DC. I noticed that there was some residue on Penelope's hands-- like
the killer had washed them postmortem. I think that we may be able to
get a partial. Also, the samples of blood in Penelope's hair have been
sent to the local field office for examination, just in case. So if we
could contact the Larsons about the body, it would probably be a good
thing."

"Right. We'll have Lucy get right on that, Agent," Harry said.

"Unfortunately, we can't give you any concrete idea of a suspect from
this autopsy," Mulder chimed in. "Most likely, Penelope's killer was
larger than she was, male, 25-40, but we can't be definite. He--
possibly she, though that is highly unlikely-- was strong enough to
overpower her and to break her wrist while they were struggling. Hmm,
wait a second. She was born on April 19, 1974. Is that significant in
any way?"

"Not to my knowledge," Harry replied. "It sounds familiar, but I can't
place it off the top of my head."

"Mulder, where are you going with this?" Scully asked. "Why does it
matter when Penelope was born?"

"Well, this is the thing. You know what Audrey was saying about Penelope
being an inversion of Laura?" Mulder asked. "Call me crazy, but it
definitely has merit. Penelope Larson was a blonde, seventeen-year-old
high school student, relatively popular, and working at Horne's perfume
counter. But unlike Laura, Penelope really was the all-American girl she
appeared to be."

"So?"

"So she doesn't fit the Leland Palmer/BOB MO," Mulder said smoothly.
"Leland killed Teresa Banks, right, for whatever reason. Then he kills
Laura who is connected to Teresa and almost kills Ronette Pulaski who is
also part of the same ring of drugs and prostitution. Then there are his
other victims, Jacques Renault and Madeleine Ferguson. Madeleine is
Laura's double-- a lookalike, much like Teresa Banks. Jacques is also
part of the circle."

"But Penelope isn't," Hawk said, his face lost in thought. "Her only
connection is a superficial one that the killer would know we'd
uncover."

"Right. BOB wants us to know he's got a new vessel and he's starting
another reign of terror here in Twin Peaks," Mulder said. "Our new
killer is a different man than Leland Palmer. He's pure in a way Leland
Palmer wasn't. He was a good man before BOB took him over. There won't
be any criminal records. He may be a pillar of the community."

"But if BOB is going to continue his terror here in Twin Peaks, why kill
Penelope?" Scully asked.

"Maybe there was no one that fit BOB's MO at Horne's in Twin Peaks. I
think Penelope Larson was chosen very deliberately, to send us a
message," Mulder said, very serious. "He wants us to know he's back for
certain."

"Another message sent by a sick and twisted messenger," Harry said. "I
have to admit that this all makes a lot of sense, but I don't understand
how doing a profile of BOB is going to lead us to a flesh and blood
killer that we can stop."

"I was wondering the same thing," Scully said cattily. Damn Mulder
anyway. Despite the fact he had enthusiastically suggested that Cooper
was their best lead for a suspect, now he was behaving as though they
had absolutely no suspicions whatsoever. He was so damned aggravating.

"Well, that's true," Mulder admitted. "However, I have an idea about
that. What if we make a list of everyone in Twin Peaks who could have
come into contact with BOB in a significant way? After all, according to
some of Agent Cooper's field reports, there was a gathering of locals
right before Leland Palmer died and BOB escaped. Also, there's the
question of this Major Garland Briggs and these Lodges."

Harry nodded appreciatively. "I see where you're going with this. It
should be fairly simple to put together, Mulder," he said. "We can start
right now, with Agent Scully's favorite suspect, Agent Cooper."

Scully raised an eyebrow. Her face must have given her thoughts away.
Either that or the sheriff was psychic. "Well, Sheriff, if only in the
interests of completeness. That also means that you yourself and your
deputies are suspects, as well."

"That's true," Harry said, nodding. "This list may be longer than I
thought, then. Is anyone writing it down?"


Double R Cafe
2:50 PM

"Hey there again, Agent Scully," Norma said as the redhead closed the
door carefully. "What would you like for lunch?"

"Can I see a menu? The meatloaf was fantastic, but it's a little heavy
for my appetite right now," Scully said, smiling and sliding onto a
stool. "Could I start off with a glass of water, though?"

"Of course," Norma said, quickly getting her a glass and a menu. Scully
nodded gratefully, and as she popped two Advil, started thinking about
the laborious, painful investigation and the preliminary list of
suspects. Right now, there were too many names on it, from Dale Cooper
to the "Log Lady," who was apparently some mysterious person who carried
a log. The problem with every last one of them was a lack of a
demonstrable motive that didn't involve the supernatural. On a phone
conversation to Penelope's parents, they had confirmed they had never
heard or any of these people with the exception of Audrey Horne who was
the owner of the department store Penelope worked at.

"Are you ready to order, Agent?" Norma asked, breaking Scully's
concentration.

"Oh-- well-- hmm-- let me see."

"I'd recommend the chicken soup. It's tasty and comforting but won't
weigh you down," Norma said with a pretty smile.

"Okay," Scully said. "Could I get a salad with that? And a root beer?"

"Sure can," Norma said. "How's the case going?"

"Slowly," Scully confessed. Her temples were still throbbing and dammit,
she was pissed at Mulder. He was the one who had suggested Dale Cooper
as the main suspect in the first place and he'd backed down on that
faster than an elected politician. Now he and Harry were looking at
Donna Hayward and James Hurley as suspects, who were back in town for
the first time in a year for no apparent reason.

"That seems to be how it really is in law enforcement," Norma said. "On
TV it looks so quick and easy, but in real life it's not as simple."

"Truer words were never spoken," Scully agreed. There was a moment of
awkward silence, and then Norma turned her attention back to the kitchen
and hurried away. Scully, left alone, sipped at her water.

The door opened again, and a woman carrying a log walked in. She nodded
politely at the other patrons and sat down right next to Scully.

"You're one of the FBI agents," she said, cradling the log carefully.
"My log has something to tell you."

"Your log?"

"Yes," the woman said emphatically. "The owls are watching again, and my
log says their cry is a warning. He says the woods are alive with
danger."

Scully nodded. "Thank you," she said, hoping that was inoffensive. This
town was too strange sometimes. Jerry Horne's pancakes, a crazy lady
with a log, and then BOB-- it was an X-File, that was for sure.

"It's good that you've accepted this," the Log Lady said. "My log has
another thing to tell you."

"Yes?"

"There are many deaths, and the one you want has been dead for two
years."

"What does that mean?" Scully asked.

"I don't know," the Log Lady admitted. "I only know my log wanted you to
know."

With that, she stood up and walked to another booth, leaving a
bewildered Scully to stare after her until Norma set down a bowl of
soup.

"I'll be right back with your salad and your root beer," Norma said
pleasantly. Scully nodded and looked down at the soup. A white piece of
paper stuck out from the side. Very quietly, Scully took it and opened
it.

In simple, slanted handwriting it said "Sparkwood & 21. Tomorrow at 7"
and Scully quickly stuffed it in her pocket. When Norma returned with
the root beer and salad, Scully was calmly sipping her soup.

"Enjoying your soup?" Norma asked, stressing the question just a little
more than she needed to. With a little nod and smile, Scully reassured
the woman she got the message.

"It's exactly what I was looking for," Scully replied.


Great Northern Hotel
10:28 PM

"This list of suspects reads like a Who's Who of survivors from the last
case," Scully said, toweling off her hair vigorously. "Hey, I met that
Log Lady today. They can't be serious about suspecting her."

"Of course not," Mulder replied, twirling his glasses as he sat on the
bed, surrounded by paperwork. Scully noticed he looked extremely sexy in
his faded FBI sweats. "Most of the people on this list can be dismissed
out of hand. For example, Ben Horne, while he is an extremely suspicious
character, is finishing his term in federal prison for owning One-Eyed
Jack's. Of course, how Ben was sentenced and Jerry ran off scot-free is
beyond me."

"Don't ask me," Scully said, hanging up her towel. "I'm a doctor, not a
lawyer."

"It looks to me like we'll have the list narrowed down by tomorrow to
about five or ten people, definitely enough to start asking questions,"
Mulder said, tapping his face contemplatively. "I wish we had more
evidence. We don't even know where Penelope was killed, and the lab
evidence isn't back yet. We're more or less twiddling our thumbs."

"And suspecting kids of murder," Scully said, brushing out her hair.

"You mean Donna and James?" Mulder called.

"You really think they could have done this?" Scully asked, violently
pulling the brush through her slightly knotty hair.

"If they were just kids? Hell, no," Mulder said. "The BOB factor is not
to be discounted."

"You really believe in BOB? Mulder, even if there are psychotic
homicidal spirits in those woods, what self-respecting evil spirit calls
itself BOB, for goodness sakes?" Scully said, laughing.

"People saw BOB, Scully."

"The human mind is not the most reliable thing on the planet, Mulder,"
Scully replied. "If BOB is anything, it seems to be some sort of
Stockholm Syndrome, passed on from person to person."

"But none of these people were tortured by Leland Palmer."

"What about Windom Earle?" Scully asked, finishing with her hair and
looking around for her contact lens fluid. "He showed all the
characteristics of being possessed by BOB."

"Then I'd suggest Leo Johnson-- if he's alive, or Cooper or Annie
Blackburne," Mulder replied without missing a beat. "However, if BOB is
an evil spirit, which I'm inclined to believe, there are definitely
other ways of transmission which defy logic."

"But you don't deny that Cooper or this Annie are suspects?"

"Most definitely not," Mulder said. "I still think Cooper is our main
suspect. However, I don't think we need to alienate local law
enforcement."

"You didn't care back in Oregon," Scully said accusingly.

"That's because I knew they were involved," Mulder said. "Harry and his
deputies are on our side. They know about the spirits in these woods and
they're not going to lie to us about them."

"It's good to know that you haven't completely left me twisting in the
wind," Scully said, emerging in an oversized Georgetown t-shirt, hair
pulled back in a ponytail. "You were really pissing me off, Mulder."

"I live to piss people off, didn't you know?" Mulder asked with a rakish
grin. "Still, we can't get so focused on one suspect that we rule out
everyone else. Donna Hayward and James Hurley haven't been in Twin Peaks
for over a year. Why show up now?"

Scully wasn't the only one who decided to answer him.


"Good question, Agent Mulder," Audrey said, turning in the darkness to
the guest watching with her. "My God, whoever you got to rig up their
room is really fantastic."

They were sitting in her office, which looked almost ominous in the
dark. However, the cheap video feed from the room required all the
lights to be off. Audrey shrugged. She didn't mind the darkness too much
and considering who was there with her...

"I only use the best, Audrey," Cooper said, smiling at her. "Thank you
for agreeing to my request."

"I trust you, Cooper," Audrey said shyly. "If you say that we need to
keep an eye on the FBI, I believe you."

"That's good to know. I'm glad I can count on you as my friend," Cooper
said, smiling. "Hmm. I don't know if we're going to get any more
information from our FBI friends tonight."

Audrey looked back at the video monitor. Her eyes widened as she watched
Mulder pull Scully in for a long, sensuous kiss.

"No wonder she was mad at me at breakfast," she said, blushing slightly.
She looked for the button to turn off the television and then quickly
turned on her desk lamp.

"Audrey, I hate to be a burden on you, but I need more of your help,"
Cooper said, his dark eyes fastened on the girl. "Can you put together a
dinner-- a celebration-- for this Friday evening?"

"For the FBI agents? Why?" Audrey asked.

"You and I both know that the FBI isn't going to solve this case on
their own. I think the killer will be drawn to this celebration and that
maybe he'll give himself away. But even more importantly, people give
away clues when they're relaxed-- both the FBI and the guilty party in
this case. We can kill two birds with one stone, Audrey."

"Should I make the party in honor of the FBI?"

"That would be too suspicious," Cooper said, cracking his knuckles.
"Come up with some other excuse, but make sure they accept the
invitation. I know you can come up with an idea, you're very good at
them."

Audrey's face lit up at the compliment. "All right, I will," she said.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Cooper?"

Cooper reached over and took her hand in his. Audrey pretended not to be
delighted and looked at him very seriously. She was his friend and
associate, after all. This was all just business.

"You're doing fine right now," he said gently. "If there's anything
else, I'll let you know. Good evening, Audrey."

Carefully, he kissed her hand and left. Audrey, alone again, clutched
her hand to her cheek and tried not to cry. And Mulder and Scully,
blissfully unaware, decided to clear the paperwork off the bed.


To Be Continued
Back to Story

Full of Secrets, Day 4
by Jennifer-Oksana (jenniferoksana@yahoo.com)
Previous Parts at http://www.katido.com/jennyo/fullofsecrets.html

THURSDAY, APRIL 2, 1992
"What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe."
--Marianne Moore

xx
Twin Peaks Sheriff's Department
8:29 AM

Scully had been getting used to strange sights in Twin Peaks-- the
dreams, the creepy ex-FBI agents, the stacks of doughnuts-- but she was
not ready for the little woman with the masses of blonde hair sleeping
while sitting upright, literally waist-deep in boxes of files and loose
papers. The requisite doughnuts were sitting behind her in a pink box
along with a steaming pot of coffee.

"Hello?" Mulder asked, trying not to scare the woman. "Hello, are you
awake?"

"No, I'm not. I'm too sleepy to be awake," she replied, as distinctly as
she could from behind all the papers. Mulder, who two days earlier would
have shared a bewildered glance with Scully, shrugged, tiptoed behind
her, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Would you like some, Scully?" he whispered.

"Sure," she replied. "Just cream today. I'm off the sugar."

"The coffee's good enough here that you really don't need sugar anyway,"
Mulder replied. "Doughnut?"

"Raspberry jelly, please," she said, courteously tiptoeing to where her
partner stood. "My God, she must have been working all night."

"Yes, I was!" the little woman said, her eyes opening wide. "I haven't
been awake so much since Andy Jr. was breastfeeding!"

"I'm--" Mulder stuttered, trying to come up with an appropriate
response. "Fox Mulder, FBI. Would you like a cup of coffee--"

"Lucy," she said. "Lucy Moran. It's actually Lucy Moran Brennan, but
Andy and I decided that it would be better if I kept my own name
professionally. But you can just call me Lucy because that's what
everyone here calls me. Are you two the FBI agents?"

"Hi," Scully said, extending her hand over the overflow of paper.
"Special Agent Dana Scully. It's nice to meet you, Lucy."

"Hi," Lucy said. "Sheriff Truman is going to be a little late this
morning. He tried to call but you had already left. He says he'll be
here at nine to discuss the big five."

"Big five?" Mulder asked.

"Well, that's how many serious suspects we have left to investigate,"
Lucy said. "There's-- let's see-- Dale Cooper, Donna Hayward, James
Hurley, Annie Blackburne, oh, and hmm, this is funny, Bobby Briggs is a
suspect."

"What's funny about that?" Scully asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Bobby has a criminal record and he was connected to the Laura Palmer
case."

Lucy sighed. "Yes, but ever since Bobby married Shelly, he's reformed.
It's just like an Afterschool Special," she said. "Do you think Bobby
did it, Agent Scully?"

Scully shook her head. "No, I don't," she said. "Hey, Lucy. Do you need
help getting out?"

Lucy looked at her precarious position and her eyes widened. "Oh, drat!
How did this happen?" she said. "It didn't look like this when I fell
asleep-- at least I don't think it did, anyway."

She sighed. Scully smiled and started moving boxes to get the other
woman out of her predicament. After Mulder finished his third doughnut,
he started helping too, and by the time Harry arrived, the three were
waiting in the conference room, looking over the relevant files.

"Good morning," Harry said. "I'm sorry I was late. How's everyone this
morning?"

"We're fine," Mulder said. "You?"

"I'm okay," Harry said briefly. "I see you've been looking over the
files of our five major suspects."

"Yes," Scully said. "I see that most of the rest have fairly strong
alibis for where they've been-- what about Leo Johnson?"

Harry shrugged. "If I could prove conclusively he were alive or in the
area, he'd definitely be on my list. As it is, no one around here has
seen him in three years," he said. Scully nodded in agreement and looked
down at the suspects again.

"I have another question," Scully said. "My findings suggest that
whoever committed this crime was fairly strong, and from the looks of
things, both Ms. Blackburne and Ms. Hayward are not very large women."

"That's true," Harry agreed. "However, both Annie and Donna have
possible motive and definite opportunity, and both of them could have
been working in tandem with their significant others."

"Besides," Mulder piped in. "We have no idea if BOB grants his vessels
superhuman strength. There's no evidence of that in the Laura Palmer
case, but Leland Palmer was definitely larger than those girls."

Everyone nodded appreciatively and Harry turned back to Scully. "I'll
admit to you, Agent, that I wouldn't question any of these suspects if
this were an ordinary case. In fact, I hope that there is no
supernatural aspect to this case and that everyone on this list is
completely innocent. But I was there in 1989 and I can't deny that there
was something more than a lone madman involved. I don't want anyone else
to die because I wasn't willing to look into the possibilities."

Scully, genuinely touched by the man's honesty, nodded quickly. "I
understand, Sheriff," she said. "I agree with you. We can't afford to
let any investigative avenue be neglected."

"That's why Dale Cooper's on the list," Harry said. "I don't think
Coop's capable of murder, but I admit there have been times in the last
three years he's been strange. Then again, he's been strange since I've
known him. The second night he was in town, he called me and said he
knew who killed Laura Palmer. It came to him in a dream, he told me.
Turns out he was right, of course, but it was still strange."

Scully flinched. God damn, this case got weirder and weirder every day!
"A dream?" Mulder asked. "That's not in the reports. It says here Leland
Palmer confessed."

"He did," Harry replied. "But Coop knew before the confession that
Leland did it. He told us that Laura whispered it to him in the dream.
Hell, I wish someone were having dreams now. It would give us more
information than we have now."

"Maybe not," Scully replied shakily. She kept thinking of the giant's
first statement. This has happened before. It will happen again. And her
only concern was the now. Now, like meeting Norma Hurley at Sparkwood
and 21 tonight. "So, who should we question first?"


Dale Cooper Residence
12:03 PM

"Leo, do you know what I like best about you?" Dale Cooper asked the man
who was currently sitting across from him. "Absolutely nothing."

"That's good to know, Mr. Cooper," Leo replied. "I don't like anything
about you either."

Cooper smiled that peculiar smile again. Leo shuddered inwardly. "You
don't like the fact I saved your life?" Cooper asked. "You would rather
be dead? I can make that happen very easily, Leo. I doubt anyone would
miss you."

"I'm grateful for that, Mr. Cooper," Leo said, looking down at the
ground. "You know that I'm grateful."

"I do know that," Cooper answering, smiling broadly. He walked over to
Leo and pulled the other man's head up by the simple expedient of
dragging him up by the nostrils. "But I'd like to hear it again. What do
you say, Leo?"

"Thank you, Mr. Cooper, sir," Leo said, staring up into Cooper's eyes.
"Thank you for saving my miserable life."

Cooper abruptly let him go and sat down again. "See? Good manners are
the cornerstone of any good relationship," he said. "Now, Leo, I have a
little job for you, which is why you're within a hundred miles of Twin
Peaks right now."

"I thought so, sir," Leo said, not wanting to jeopardize Cooper's good
mood. "What would you like me to do, sir?"

Cooper was silent for a moment, cocking his head slightly. "Just a
minute, Leo," he said. Very quietly, Cooper stood up and walked around
the room, his eyes narrowed to slits as he seemed to sniff the air. Leo
stayed very still. So did Annie Blackburne, who was hidden in the coat
closet, listening to every word the two men were saying. She had been
horrified to see Leo Johnson arrive, alive and in cahoots with Dale. She
knew very well that if Cooper found her, she would not survive the day,
so frozen in place, Annie tried to stop breathing as the man she had
once loved listened for any signs of her presence. Finally, he sat down
again.

"I'm sorry, Leo," Cooper said in a conversational tone. "I could have
sworn I heard someone listening."

"No problem, sir," Leo replied. "I was asking what you'd like me to do,
sir?"

"Ah, yes," Cooper said. "There are two FBI agents in town investigating
a murder. I need you to put them out of commission."

"You mean--" Leo made a slashing gesture across his throat. Cooper shook
his head.

"Nothing so crass and permanent, Leo. I have the necessary provisions
for you. Tomorrow, there's going to be a party at the Great Northern for
the Special Agents. I want you to put the contents of the vial that I
will give to you tomorrow morning into the agents' food-- and perhaps a
few selected others, though with less drastic results. Then I will want
you to leave the vial in a select location, which I will reveal to you
tomorrow. While the stalwart FBI agents are out of commission, you will
then place certain items in other locations. Then you leave town until I
call you again," Cooper said, his face serious and focused. "And Leo?
Don't even think of going near Shelly or Bobby. If there is one shred of
evidence placing you in Twin Peaks this weekend, I'll put two bullets in
the back of your head and leave you in the ruins of the mill. Do I make
myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir," Leo said, eyes wide. Annie realized that Leo was
scared shitless of Dale. That in itself was terrifying, but even worse
was how calm and collected Cooper was. He seemed absolutely confident
Leo would follow his orders to the letter, probably because Leo had done
so before-- or learned to do so.

"All right, then. Get out of here and stay out of sight," Cooper said.
"Annie should be home for lunch any minute."

Leo nodded, rose, and left as quickly as possible, leaving Cooper alone
in the living room. Annie took a small, shallow breath. Now she was
stuck in this closet while a madman stalked back and forth across their
living room, looking around carefully.

"Who's here?" he asked suddenly. Annie, peering as closely as she dared,
suddenly saw Cooper was not wearing his own face. Biting her lips
together so hard they bled, she stayed still. "I know you're here. I'm
gonna find you and then there's gonna be an accident. Oops, oops, oops."

Annie closed her eyes and began to silently pray. Opening her eyes
slowly, she saw Cooper was back to himself, but he was walking to a
record player and setting the needle down.

"Doo-lang, doo-lang, doo-lang," the music sang. Cooper, seemingly
mesmerized, began to dance to the song, snapping his fingers and finally
to begin singing with it. "He's so fine-- wish he were mine-- that
handsome boy over there-- doo-lang, doo-lang, doo-lang--"

As Cooper danced, Annie realized that it was just a matter of time. He
was going to find her and he was going to kill her. Even if he didn't do
it today, he'd do it on another day, and he'd get away with it. She
clenched her fists and kept as quiet as was humanly possible.

"He's so fine-- oh yeah--" Cooper sang, jerking back and forth. "Gotta
be mine-- oh yeah! Sooner or later-- oh yeah-- I hope it's not later--
oh yeah! We've got to get together-- oh yeah! The sooner the better-- oh
yeah-- I just CAN'T WAIT, I JUST CAN'T WAIT--"

The needle on the record started to jump and the words kept repeating,
and Cooper's voice just kept getting more and more insistent. He started
roaming around the room, moving up and down the halls. Annie realized he
was looking for her now. Her stomach clenched, and frozen like a deer
caught in headlights. Something in her head kept screaming to run, run
as fast as she could and tell everyone what Cooper was. But something
else whispered he'd catch her if she made a sound.

"I just can't wait! I just can't wait!" Cooper called, coming back into
the living room and swaying drunkenly. Annie, eyes wide in horror,
watched as he walked closer and closer to the closet, the sound of his
shoes thumping on the floor. This was it. She was dead.

His hand was on the doorknob when the phone rang. Cooper paused. The
phone rang again. With agonizing precision, he moved back, stopping the
record and picking up the phone in the kitchen. Annie, suddenly freed
from her panic, threw the door open and ran out the front door. She
didn't care if he had heard her. If she ran fast enough and far enough,
she could get into town. That was, if the owls weren't watching.

Moving as fast as her feet could carry her, Annie Blackburne ran into
the woods, listening to the sound of her own breathing as she looked for
owls and prayed that she would get to town in time.


Sheriff's Department
6:30 PM

"I want to stress that you are not under official suspicion," Mulder
said calmly to the nervous, chain-smoking young woman in the chair
across from him. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

"Why would you need to ask me a few questions if you didn't suspect me
of something?" Donna Hayward asked defensively. Her eyes were narrowed
and she had been agitated ever since she had walked into the building.

Mulder didn't understand it at all. Donna Hayward was low on everyone's
suspect list. Only her close connection to Laura Palmer and her rather
unexpected visit to Twin Peaks this week placed her on it at all. He had
expected the girl to explain her visit, which was probably some sort of
family trouble, give an alibi, and go home, completely free from any
suspicion at all. Instead, she was palpably nervous, drumming her
fingers on the table, smoking cigarette after cigarette, and generally
twitching like mad.

"I'm sure you can appreciate that because of the connection between
Penelope Larson and the Laura Palmer case, we need to question those who
were involved in that case," Mulder said.

"No, I don't," Donna replied flatly. "I didn't know Penelope Larson.
I've been out of Twin Peaks for nearly three years now, Agent Mulder. To
question me about this girl's death seems absolutely absurd, unless you
suspect me of killing her, and if you suspect me, you're wrong."

"Why don't you let me ask a couple of questions before drawing any
conclusions?" Mulder asked, getting annoyed.

Donna stared at him, a surly expression crossing her thin, angular face.
"All right, ask your questions. But I didn't kill Penelope Larson and I
don't have anything to do with this, so you're really just wasting your
time."

"I'll be the judge of that," Mulder replied, looking down at his list of
questions again. "How long has it been since you visited Twin Peaks,
Donna?"

Across the hall, Harry was asking an equally uncooperative James Hurley
the same questions. "Come on, James, you know that no one here really
suspects you."

"Then why are we here?"

"Routine questioning," Harry said. "You haven't been around here very
often, James. Don't you think people might be wondering if two days
after you and Donna show up, this girl dies, just like Laura did?"

"Donna doesn't have anything to do with this!" James shouted.

"I'm not saying she did," Harry replied calmly. "Do you understand why I
have to ask, though?"

James glared at Harry. "Maybe I do, but it's still bullshit," he said in
a low, growly voice. "You called me up here when Laura died and you knew
I didn't do it, and now you're doing it again for this Penelope chick.
I'm getting really tired of being asked where I was on the night of
such-and-such and can anyone verify that."

"Why are you in town, James?" Harry asked. James shrugged.

"I felt like making a visit to see my uncle," he replied. "I missed the
town, maybe."

"I've talked to Big Ed, James," Harry replied. "He hasn't seen much of
you."

"Does that make me a murderer?" James asked.

Mulder, trying to keep a calm head across the hall, really wished Scully
were with him. But she had refused, citing an errand involving forensic
pathology and her lack of patience with questioning suspects. He
suspected she wasn't being entirely honest, but then again, she hadn't
been honest the entire trip. If this case hadn't come up, he knew, she
would have pulled transfer papers out of that hideous briefcase on
Monday morning and told him to sign on the dotted line.

He really didn't want to. Sure, Scully was a monumental pain in the ass
as a partner-- stubborn to a fault, second-guessing him at every turn,
and in desperate need of some field time to smooth out her rough edges.
But she was clever, tough, and goddamn, she was beautiful. He liked her
a lot and suspected that like might be understating the case.

"Well?" Donna asked, her antsy voice breaking his reverie. "Does it make
me a murderer?"

"No, Donna, it doesn't," Mulder told his uncooperative suspect. He still
couldn't understand why she was being so hostile. "But if you're not a
murderer, why are you being so uncooperative about answering a few
simple questions?"

Women. Maybe he just didn't understand them, period. He knew that Scully
liked him as much as he liked her. Ever since they had gotten back into
the field, she had warmed up again, welcoming all the flirtation and the
sex without a bit of problem. Then again, she was being terribly
close-mouthed. This case bothered his partner for some unknown reason
she wasn't talking about.

"Look, Agent Mulder," Donna said in a sharp voice. "I am in Twin Peaks
for a very simple reason-- to visit my parents. I'm sorry that I don't
visit them enough for this to be a good reason, but it's the truth.
James and I didn't plan for our visits to coincide, but they did. And my
only alibi for the night of Penelope's death? I was out with James
alone. I didn't kill her. I didn't even know her. I'm sorry I can't help
your investigation, but that's the truth."

Mulder, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere with Donna right now,
nodded wearily. "All right, Ms. Hayward. Thank you very much for
answering my questions."

"I can go?" Donna asked.

"Yes, but you may be hearing from me again," Mulder replied.

She didn't answer him, just stood up, stalked past him and out of the
interrogation room. Across the hall, James walked out of the other room.
Harry had had almost as little luck with the young man as Mulder had
with Donna. The two of them looked at each other and walked out of the
building together, sharing little glances.

"James, what are we going to do? We're in so much trouble," Donna
hissed.

"We're not in trouble yet, Donna," James replied. "We've just got to
play it cool."

"James, the police are watching us. We don't have an alibi for that
girl's death and once they know why we're here, there's no way they'll
believe we didn't do it!" Donna said.

"That's why they don't need to know. Just play it cool, Donna. I
promise, we'll get out of this okay," James said, squeezing her hand.
"As long as everything goes according to plan, we'll be okay."

"Yeah," Donna said cynically as she climbed on James's motorcycle. "That
just fills my heart with confidence, James."


Sparkwood and 21
7:01 PM

Whenever Scully had a moment to enjoy Twin Peaks by herself, she kept
realizing she liked the place. The town was beautiful. When the woods
weren't full of evil spirits, they were full of trees, nature, and all
of the things her father had always romanticized when they were living
in the identical concrete blocks on identical naval bases half a world
apart. Beyond that, the residents were strangely endearing, trapped in
time and ultramodern, walking contradictions. Even Audrey's blatant
flirting had its own charm. In fact, the only thing Scully disliked
about Twin Peaks was Dale Cooper, she realized as she spotted a classic
boat of a car pulling to the side of the road.

Norma, wearing a long coat that nearly overwhelmed her, got out of the
car. She looked around a moment, nodding calmly when she saw Scully
waiting at the corner and waving her to the car. Scully, after a moment
of confusion, walked up to the car.

"I'm so glad you decided to come," Norma said. "I didn't know if FBI
agents responded to mysterious notes. I suppose it really wasn't that
mysterious, but-- I'm glad you're here."

"I'm willing to be of any help I can be," Scully replied. "What's on
your mind, Norma?"

"Why don't we go somewhere else to talk about this?" Norma asked. "I
want to make sure nobody's listening."

Scully raised an internal eyebrow. Norma didn't look like the paranoid
type, but anyone living in this town had a right to be wary. She got
into the car, and Norma, slipping behind the wheel, started the engine
and roared off. The radio, set to an oldies station, blazed just loud
enough to drown out the engine whine.

"Well, I don't know why I came here tonight-- I got the feeling that
something ain't right," the singer crooned. Scully, surprised for a
minute by the song, shrugged and looked out the window into the night.

"This reminds me of taking Sunday drives with my mom," Scully said. "We
used to own a car about this size and she liked to go driving with each
of us kids on our own."

Norma smiled. "Sounds like you have a nice mom," she said.

"She has her good points," Scully replied.

"That's nice," Norma said, accelerating. "Agent Scully, I know you know
I didn't bring you out here to make small talk. It's just hard to say
what I'm thinking right now because if I'm wrong, it could hurt your
whole investigation. But I don't think I'm wrong."

"It's all right, Norma," Scully said. "I'm a trained agent. I promise no
matter what you have to say, it'll be handled right."

Norma nodded. "I don't know where to begin," she admitted. "I guess I
should just tell you flat out that I think that Agent Cooper killed that
girl and that there's something very wrong with him. But I know that
sounds crazy."

Scully, almost elated, kept a straight face and nodded. But she couldn't
believe how glad she was that someone else saw the wrongness in Cooper.
Maybe she wasn't being too suspicious, after all. Maybe everyone else
wasn't being suspicious enough.

"Why do you think that Agent Cooper did it? What do you know about the
case, Norma?" Scully asked, impressed by the control she held in her
voice.

Norma laughed nervously. "That's the problem, Agent Scully. I don't know
anything about the case except that it's related to Laura Palmer. I
don't have any evidence you could use in a court case, just a lot of
suspicions I have to share with someone. I'd tell Ed and Harry, but they
love Cooper."

"And you don't?"

"No," Norma said quietly. Her voice was very cold and Scully realized it
was angry as well as unhappy. "Do you know that Annie Blackburne is my
sister? She had just left a convent when she met Cooper. At first I was
happy for them. Cooper was a hero. He was polite and charming and
gentlemanly. The two of them looked like a good match-- that's something
rare in Twin Peaks, Agent Scully."

Scully nodded as Norma turned a sharp left on the dark streets. A quick
peek at the speedometer revealed they were going about sixty and it felt
faster.

"What happened then?" Scully asked.

"It was when that crazy FBI man, Windom Earle, kidnapped Annie. They
went to this place-- Annie called it the Black Lodge later. Cooper went
after Annie, to save her life and he came out different. But no one knew
that. I don't even think I'd know if it weren't for Annie and the ways
she's changed."

They turned another corner and suddenly the woods surrounded them.
Abruptly, Norma pulled off the road and turned off the car. She turned
to Scully, her face tense.

"Every time I see my sister, she looks more afraid. You've got to
understand, my sister and I aren't that close, but she might as well
have been back in the convent after the incident with this Black Lodge.
She got a job in the next town over when she knew she could have had a
job at the Double R. She avoids me-- Cooper still comes to the Double R
but Annie-- never. I've seen her walking down the street, ignoring me as
best she can. And when I do see her she looks tired and sad," Norma
said. "I didn't understand it at first. I thought Cooper could help her
get past all the pain in her life. Then I started noticing Cooper wasn't
quite right himself."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked, though she knew exactly what Norma
meant.

"I don't know if it's something I can explain in words. It's just a
feeling he gave me-- maybe his smile was just a little too big, or he
blinked too much, or complimented the coffee once too many times. Little
things, the kind of thing you don't worry about unless you're looking
for them," Norma said. "That doesn't make much sense, I know. But does
it help explain what I'm trying to say at all?"

"It does, actually," Scully said. "I understand why you're reluctant to
talk to the FBI about it, too."

"You don't trust him either, do you, Scully?" Norma asked.

"No, I don't," Scully said. "Of course, my reasons are almost as
inexplicable as yours. His smile is definitely too big-- like a
crocodile's. And I had a dream--"

Norma looked at her strangely. "Really? About Cooper?"

"He said I was a candle flame, but his eyes were wrong," Scully mused,
not really hearing Norma. "Burning men like moths. Such a strange
dream--"

The shrill buzz of her cell phone surprised Scully. Quickly, she pulled
it out and pressed the talk button.

"Scully," she said.

"It's me," Mulder said, his voice drowning in static. "Annie
Blackburne--" and his voice disappeared for a moment "Found her at Big
Ed's--"

"Mulder, wait, I can't hear you-- where's Annie?"

Norma gasped. "What?" she whispered. Scully shook her head and tried to
hear what Mulder was saying.

"You're breaking up--" he said, sounding. "She's at-- doctors are-- got
a big cut, it's infected-- she's delirious--"

"Mulder, I'm going to go down to the hospital, okay? Can you hear me?"
Scully hollered. "I'll meet you there! I'll try to call you later!"

There was no reply except the noisy buzz of static. Scully ended the
call and looked at Norma, who was trembling slightly.

"What happened to Annie?" Norma whispered. "Did he kill her?"

"No," Scully replied. "They found her at Big Ed's. She's delirious.
They've taken her to the hospital, but I don't have much by way of
details right now."

Norma's hands were already in motion, revving up the car, turning on the
lights, as her feet hit the pedals full speed. Before Scully could
explain anything else, she and the big, old-fashioned American roadster
were flying over the road into the darkness of night.