Albert was pissed. He was hungry, he was tired, and he was out of cigarettes. And, instead of going home to his own bed, he was stuck in podunkville and currently walking toward his cheap, shared motel room at midnight. In the rain.
Pissed and pissed on.
The case was grating on his nerves too, and was the reason for his chain smoking this week, leading to the lack of nicotine and energy in his system. It started with two bodies from across state lines, bringing them here in the first place, and in three days had escalated to four bodies total. Different races, ages, sexes, and backgrounds. One homeless, one drifter, a mother of three, and a grandfather, all dumped in this town but taken from different cities around the area. All shot, mid-range sniper, to the chest, carried off from the scene of the crime without witnesses. No evidence except traces of hair from the same cat found on all the bodies.
To Albert's greatest annoyance, the forensic facilities in this particular hellhole were more than adequate enough for the FBI to see no reason why Albert couldn't stay in town and cut down on travel costs. The only reason he wasn't considering a different career at the moment was that he was once again partnered with Dale Cooper, the only agent he could call friend in the bureau, besides maybe Dennis Bryson. But Dale was different - friendly with everyone and personal with only a few that included Albert.
So, instead of solving at least some of his problems by heading toward the only 24-hour gas station with food and cigarettes in the vicinity, he had been summoned by Cooper back to the motel via the shortest phone call of the case so far.
"Rosenfield."
"Albert! I need you back here - I found a break in the case and I need your eyes on it!"
"But Coop-"
Albert had been hung up on, so to spite the situation and day and whole damn town, he took his sweet time finishing the latest autopsy's dictation before trudging back to the motel. It was only half a mile west of the crime lab, not worth the wait to call a cab. He knew that whatever Cooper had been working on would either lead to a clue or a dead end, and at this time of night it would wait until morning to follow through with it. Besides, the light rain was a nice change from the rampant humidity of this week. The heat lingered in the air still, the ground still steamy as the rain fell, but Albert was past the point of caring about anything but his impending rest. The rain stopped halfway back to the motel, and the humidity was suddenly twice as bad as before. Albert resigned himself to misery once more.
He could listen to Coop's excited rambling through the door while he took a hot shower before lumbering to the rocky mattress across from his partner's on the other side of the room. Or maybe Coop would be too excited and talk to him through the thin hotel shower curtain, and then-
Albert caught himself daydreaming, and cursed at the whole damn situation again because of it, as he approached their side of the strip motel and was passing the cruiser Cooper had taken earlier. Their door was ajar, either to Cooper's trusting nature or his anticipation of Albert's arrival. Albert pushed the door open and summoned the strength and energy to greet his colleague.
"Alright, I'm here, what's the big rush?"
Coop looked up from his seat on his bed, shirt unbuttoned to reveal his undershirt and papers relating to the case spread out all around him. Albert took a moment to take in the scene - Coop flushed with a big smile on his face, a coffee stain on his white shirt, sleeves rolled up, until realizing the reason for his semi-undressed state: it was ungodly hot in this room.
"Albert! Good to see you again - what time is it even? Wow, time flies when you're working, eh Albert?" Coop said, a little jittery off of motel coffee and the case.
"Jesus, Coop, it's hot enough to bake in here," said Albert. He struggled to take off his suit jacket, damp and sticking to his long-sleeved shirt from the rain and now sudden humidity.
"I know, Albert!" said Cooper, moving some more papers around on the bed. "Doesn't it just get the blood flowing? The A/C puttered out sometime today, and it didn't help much that I took the hottest shower of my life earlier. That's why the door's open, Albert, but there doesn't seem to be a breeze. I read once about the mind-body connection with in extreme temperature conditions and-"
Cooper went on as Albert finally freed himself of his jacket and threw it on the floor. He turned in the doorway, half-listening to Cooper's ranting about some mumbo-jumbo about harnessing one's current environment for focus, and started swinging the still-open door back and forth, trying to get the thick air to move a little. He almost wished he was back in the lab, even if it meant he had to work, just for the power of the air conditioner. Sleeping in this swamp-like climate, with the various mildews already present in the cheap motel room, would be hand basket that would deliver him straight to hell.
"Albert! Were you listening? I said we had another body!"
That got his attention. "Where? Are we about to head out?"
"No," said Cooper. "It's in another town, just like the others. This time there was a witness! They said they saw the alleged shooter enter the building adjacent to the scene of the crime, and we have a partial license plate! I've alerted the local authorities here to bolo the roads between the cities in case he comes to dump the body tonight."
"He still managed to get the body? What the hell, Coop!" Albert picked up the pace of his door swinging. It wasn't helping much, but it was something to do besides pace the floor.
"Take a breath, Albert," said Coop gently. He rose from the bed, leaving the case file behind him, and finally turned to look at Albert. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?" A sigh.
Albert nodded and suddenly stopped the door, more open than before, before slumping his shoulders and sighing himself.
"Coop," Albert said, "there's nothing on earth I'd rather have right now than a cool shower, a cigarette, and a sub from Giovanni's absolutely slathered in avocado. But, considering the miserable armpit of a town swamp we're stuck in right now, I'm bargaining that I might get a tepid shower before passing out on that bed right there."
"That's the spirit Albert!" said Cooper, changing direction in the room. "Just let me splash my face and change so I can finish up these files before we both pass out in this heat!"
Cooper shut the door to the bathroom in exclamation and started to run the water.
Albert, still standing the doorway, rolled his eyes. He almost made to move before he felt the slightest breeze from the door behind him. All of his muscles relaxed as he willed it to become stronger, and he idly wondered if Cooper would mind if he slept entirely nude, and then wondered of Cooper would want to do the same…
"Hey!" A voice from outside the door shouted, taking Albert from his daydream.
"What?" Albert, replied, turning to the door, "Are we making too much noise or are you just being a dick? Rhetorical question, we both know the answer-"
"Give me your stuff!"
Albert then saw the gun, which made him more annoyed than before. "Seriously? You're about to rob an FBI agent? What kind of dumbshits fill this godforsaken den of-" Albert resigned himself to a crime of opportunity and stupidity, figuring that this might as well happen just to top off the crappy day.
"FBI?" the guy said again. "Fuck!" He looked around, about to bolt, and Albert made his way closer to the door and the punk kid, calmly reaching out for the gun.
"Kid, just hand over the gun and we'll take a trip to your local so-called authorities so your rap sheet can get a little longer and your potential a little smaller, and we won't have to press charges on a count of you being a dumbass." Albert had felt with punks like this before, and when faced with authority they almost always wilted.
The kid shook, trying to figure out his fight or flight instinct as he'd never seen anyone just ask for his gun and to surrender before. "Fuck!" he said, again.
"Yes, your limited vocabulary, I should have thought. Gun. Mine. Hand over. You. Under arrest."
That seemed to trigger something within the kid and his brain switched over fully into panic mode.
A flash of light and footsteps running away was all Albert could register for a moment, and he still stood at the door, suddenly not looking at a person but at the deserted parking lot stretching out beside him. Vaguely, his mouth was open, about to say "Come on, punk, I don't have all night."
A beat of silence.
"Albert! Was that a gunshot?" Cooper emerged from the bathroom behind Albert.
Albert turned to look at Cooper, about to say "Yes, Coop," but was still concerningly silent. His ears started to ring. This was an extremely rude turn of events, considering the shit day he'd had already.
Coop had stopped, eyes wide and face still damp from water. He moved as Albert started to move toward him, a step. Then a falter.
"Albert!" Coop rushed toward him, and suddenly things were horizontal. "Albert what happened!"
"Stupid… kid," Albert managed, not quite able to focus on what Cooper was doing so close to him.
"Dammit! Dammit dammit dammit! Albert!"
Faintly, Albert recognized that he had rarely heard Coop get so explicit with his language when not directed toward coffee or pie.
Under that thought, he registered not a small amount of pain, adrenaline, and overwhelming annoyance, and then nothing at all.