Agent Cooper returned ten minutes later with two chocolate malts and a dish of fries to share. Audrey was waiting on his bed, fully clothed this time. He laid the treats on his bedside table and sunk down beside her, making himself comfortable.

"So," he said, taking the malts and handing her one. "Do you like chocolate? I wasn't sure."

She smiled. "I'm a teenage girl, of course I like chocolate."

"I figured as much. So, Audrey. Do you want to tell me what's troubling you?"

She stirred her malt with her straw, staring into it like she was reading from a book. She didn't taste any of it, just mixed it until the whipped cream dissolved into beige froth. "I don't know where to start," she forced a sheepish chuckle. Her eyes were still a little bit red, and she nibbled on her bottom lip nervously.

"We can talk about anything you'd like. Your family, your friends, school…" He tried to sound gentle, supportive, but he feared he sounded simply emotionless. Robotic. Businesslike. His past girlfriends had scolded him for it.

"I don't have any friends," she admitted quietly. She didn't sound embarrassed or ashamed, but there was a sad acceptance in her voice. Defeat.

"No friends? I'm sure that isn't true, Audrey." He reached for a fry. She did the same, but she simply held in front of her mouth, as if it could not pass her lips.

She looked at him with clear, honest eyes, neither hating nor liking the truth she spoke. He found it refreshing. "I mean, I have people I talk to sometimes, or people I used to play with when I was little. But we're not really friends, you know?"

"Why is that?"

She shrugged, and finally took a tiny bite from her fry. "I'm not sure." She paused. "Most girls don't really like me."

"Why not?" Cooper ripped open two salt packets and emptied them over the fries.

"I'm not sure. Girls can be like that, you know. Guys don't really get it. Girls are competitive. They think I'm weird, or bitchy, or slutty, or something."

"Sounds like they're intimated by you."

"Maybe," she said softly. "I don't really talk to many boys, either."

"A beautiful girl like you? I thought you'd be chasing them off with a stick!"

She blushed. "Boys don't want to be my friend," she laughed, but it sounded sad. "They just want... My only guy friend was an ex of mine from middle school, and he was gay." This time she giggled genuinely, as if reliving the disbelief. "It was funny. He asked me out in eighth grade because he felt like he should have a girlfriend, and I said yes for the same reason. At the end of the year he told me he thought he liked boys."

"Did that hurt your feelings?"

Audrey contemplated this with a smile, sipping at her malt. "A little, finding out that he didn't actually like me. But I liked him because he treated me different. He didn't tease me or say mean things like the other boys did." She glanced at Cooper. Her eyes were bashful. "He said he liked me because I was outsider just like he was." The smiled dropped from her face. "We stayed friends, but his family moved away at the end of tenth grade. I haven't spoken to him since. Other boys are just… "

Cooper nodded, watching her intently. "Only out for one thing."

She looked at him through her lashes, blushing. "Yes. But, I don't know. They seem avoidant of me, too. But not the same way girls are. Boys are less hateful. They're almost…" She searched for words.

"In awe."

"I don't know about that."

"I do."

They looked at each other, him smiling with reassurance, while she grinned, bashful and delighted. "I kind of like it. But at the same time I don't. It's like, they're afraid of me, I can see it in their eyes. It's kind of cool, being feared." She grinned briefly, but then stopped. "But… I'm just always alone."

"Like a porcupine," Cooper said absently.

Audrey shot him a puzzled look.

" 'The porcupine, whom one must handle gloved, may be respected, but is never loved.' Arthur Guiterman. What you said reminded me of it."

"Oh."

He noticed the hurt in her eyes. "Not to say that you're not loved, Audrey, of course. You seem so strong and independent that people fear and respect you, but they're too afraid to come close to you. And that's a real shame, because if they did, they would see what a lovely person you are." He offered a smile.

Her cheeks darkened and she bit back a smile. "Thanks, Agent Cooper."

He smiled. "Was he the only boy in your life?" Finished with his malt, he laid the sticky glass on the bedside table.

"Basically. I've been on a few dates and stuff, but I don't really like boys my age. The only guys I ever liked were movie stars and my teachers," she covered her face with her hand in embarrassment and her laugh sounded like a wind-chime, melodic and soft.

Cooper laughed with her. "Women do mature faster than most boys. It's completely understandable."

Audrey had spent most of their time together starring down into her lap, occasionally glancing up, but now her eyes were on him, sparkling with a coyness that hadn't been there before. "How many women were in your life?"

Cooper chuckled. "Not many. My first real girlfriend was in college. I was a bit of a nerd in high school, believe it or not," he added sarcastically, to Audrey's amusement. It made his innards flutter, and tore his heart down into his gut. He became engulfed with sudden sadness, feeling that gaping whole in his chest that he sometimes forgot about.

"Are you ok, Agent Cooper?"

He looked at her as if she'd startled him. "Yes, Audrey. I'm ok. Just remembering… things that are better left forgotten."

"Like what?"

It was Cooper's turn to pick at his food and stare melancholically into his lap. "Maybe another time, Audrey. Tonight we're talking about you. Are you enjoying your malt?"

Audrey made a noise of approval as she sipped daintily at it. Only about one quarter was gone.

"What about your family?"

"My parents hate me," She said matter-of-factly, without hesitation.

Cooper paused in surprise."Now Audrey, I'm sure your parents don't hate you."

She seemed dazed, as if caught in a dream, when she looked at him. But of course, she always looked that way. "You seem so sure of everything."

"I just always hope for the best," he smiled. "Why do you think your parents hate you?"

"Well, my father didn't always hate me. We had a good relationship when I was a kid, but as I got older, he just stopped paying attention to me. He stopped spending time with me and listening to me, and if I ever asked him to do something with me he would tell me to get Celeste or one of the other housekeepers to do it. He used to make me sleepover at other people's houses, like Donna's house or something, and I used to feel like it was just so he wouldn't have to deal with me. He loved Laura. I think I was always resentful towards her, because I felt like she stole my dad away from me. And my mom has never liked me. Remember I told you my brother, Johnny, has emotional problems? She blames me… because I…" Her eyes began to glisten.

Cooper took her hand. "It's okay, Audrey. We don't have to talk about it if it's too much."

She looked at him. "I pushed him down the stars when I was a baby. I was barely three years old. And my mother never lets me forget it. Jacoby says it's because of some kind of emotional trauma, not from falling down the stairs. I think she just hates me, and uses that to justify it. Johnny is the only one in the whole world who loves me, and I can't even really talk to him. He's just a little boy that never grows up." A tear from each eye tumbled down her porcelain cheeks, and she wiped them away.

Cooper understood now. He understood the red pumps and cigarettes, her demure glances and suggestive words. The darkness reflected in her eyes, only caught unexpectedly in solitary moments, was her profound loneliness. Cooper had suspected it, as it is with most rich folks' children. But Audrey's loneliness was deeper; it was the loneliness of being lost alone, being left in the dark with no idea what lay in the shadows. Being desired sexually was the only way she knew how to feel wanted, and causing trouble was the only way she knew how to get her parents attention. Every action, every sentence, was a demand for attention, for care, for love. She was full of love, yet full of emptiness, with so much to give yet no one to give it to. She had become her own friend. He understood then just what he probably meant to her.

Cooper was still holding her hand. "Audrey," his voice was tender, gentle.

Her smile was meant to reassure. She didn't want pity; she wanted to be strong. "Thank you for listening to me." He found her words, and all the words she had ever said to him, to be suddenly so tragic. Audrey became so much more exquisite, yet so much more feeble. She gave the impression of a strong, sensual woman, which indeed she was, however, she tried so desperately to obscure the sad, sensitive young girl underneath.

"Audrey, don't thank me for listening, or for talking to you. It's my pleasure. I can't believe a girl as wonderful as you is so alone."

"It's partly my own fault. If I really wanted friends and boyfriends, I would put myself out there and do it. But I don't. I don't know why." She sighed. "I don't like my classmates. I don't like anyone." She looked at him. "I just like you."

Cooper didn't know what to say. He just caressed her hand. "I like you too, Audrey, as you know. But there are other people in this town, maybe if you got to know some people you would find some you like."

"You're right." She smiled, but there was sorrow behind it. Cooper wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her, and give her the happiness she deserved. However, he knew having her wouldn't fix anything. What she needed was loving, supporting people in her life, and suddenly Cooper hated Ben Horne for hurting Audrey so deeply.

"Audrey, you're a neat girl. And you know what? You'll grow into a spectacular woman."

Another tear slipped down her face. "Thank you, Agent Cooper."

"No, thank you, Audrey, for talking to me about this. I'm here any time you need me."

She smiled at him, and then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I snuck into your room and got into your bed."

Cooper couldn't stop from smiling, and he even laughed a little. "Audrey, it's ok. It just makes it harder for me to…" He didn't want to finish his sentence, but she stared at him expectantly. "To resist. And there are so many reason why I have to. I hope you understand, Audrey."

"I do. I'm glad we're friends." She smiled at him, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Actually, Audrey, I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship."