**A/N: This is part one of a much longer fic I've been writing that shows what I hope happened in between the scenes to which we were treated in the series. Wherever possible I have done my absolute best to stay true to canon. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

I would be incredibly remiss if I did not acknowledge the most excellent beta help I received from the Wonder Twins. Their wild encouragement of this story makes it what it is today. Thanks ladies...**

March 8

COOPER: Diane: it is...approximately 2:10 in the morning. I am returning to the Bookhouse after meeting with Ben Horne regarding Audrey's rescue. She is recuperating, but she's not out of the woods. Not yet. (Pause; shaky breath) She survived... several near-lethal injections of heroin over a period of at least two days. How one person can do that to another-let alone one so innocent-is so far beyond my grasp as to render me powerless to reach it. I suppose I should be happy about that. No one should want to face the darkness of that abyss. (Another long pause) Diane, I must confess the feeling I had when I carried Audrey out of One Eyed Jack's. It was...powerful. I was so angry-at myself for letting this happen; at them. (Assertively) I was ready to kill anyone who crossed our path. This is how I felt with Caroline, and I can't imagine I'm alone in this; this is how any man must feel when someone he cares about is in harm's way. And yet...(softly) Diane, it worries me. I felt myself slipping out of control. And a federal agent must always be in control. (Pause) But when I looked into her eyes, and she into mine, all I wanted to do-my singular purpose for existing on this earth, my raison d'etre-was to protect her...defend her...keep her safe. (Pause; clears his throat) But that's my private battle; I shouldn't trouble you with it. I will, however, keep you appraised of the situation as the facts become clearer.

2:30 am

Agent Cooper readied himself for the rest of the night, which stretched out before him like the blackest of highways. He removed his long trench coat and folded it neatly over the back of the chair, then did the same with his suit jacket. He undid the very top button of his shirt, then barely loosened the impeccable half-Windsor with the little dimple in the centre that this particular tie called for. With a sweep of his hand, he combed a few loose strands of his dark hair back into place atop his head and took three deep, cleansing breaths with his eyes closed before sinking into the chair next to her bed. With the top of his right kneecap exactly parallel with the Cupid's bow of Audrey's upper lip, Cooper leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together, fingers interlocked, as if in prayer. His eyes lingered on the woefully neglected cuticle of his left thumbnail, and only after one last deep breath did he allow himself the space to glance at the face of the woman on the bed.

The anxiety he'd felt leaving Audrey for the half-hour it took to meet with Ben at the hotel was overwhelming. At every turn, Cooper had fought to keep his mind on the task at hand and away from the girl he was letting out of his sight after silently promising himself that he would never again. But now that his errands were done, he could relax - as it were - with the knowledge that she was okay, there, sleeping beside him, while he kept vigil.

Audrey drifted in and out of consciousness, talking about prayers most of the time she was awake and moaning incoherently when she was asleep. She stayed curled on her side, facing away from the door, her knees drawn up to her chest, one hand under her pillow and the other clutching at the bedsheets.

Cooper just sat next to her bed. When Audrey awoke with a runny nose and a terrible sweating fever, begging for release from the hell of withdrawal, Cooper was the one who cooled her face with ice water and a washcloth and spoke soothing words in a voice normally reserved for small children. When Audrey woke up crying, his was the hand she held onto.

And now, Cooper sat on the edge of his seat, his hands pressed together, waiting for a sign from Audrey that the worst of it was over.

"Agent Cooper... ."

His eyes snapped to her face and he leaned over. She lifted three fingers, labouring to reach him. He met her halfway, taking her hand in his as gently as if she were made of spun sugar.

"Audrey," he half-whispered, half-sighed.

She blinked twice; Cooper noticed a teardrop gathering in the corner of her eye. He squeezed her hand, and when she blinked a third time, the tear spilled over. "I'm sorry," she whispered finally.

"You don't have to apologize," he said, bringing his other hand to hers and stroking her fingers with his thumb.

Audrey laboured to roll over onto her back. Her eyes were glazed, her forehead damp, her lips dry and cracked. She seemed to notice him noticing that fact, and tried in vain to separate her lips and wet them with her tongue.

Cooper rested her arm on the bed and reached over to the bedside table to grab an ice cube, from the washcloth bowl. "Here," he whispered, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he lowered it to her lips. "You shouldn't drink too much..."

He slowly traced the outline of her lower lip with the cube, letting the ice water melt against her skin and gather in the crease where her lips met. She parted them, let the water roll back inside her mouth a little at a time, patiently, opening her eyes to look at him when she could, and letting fatigue close her eyes for her when she couldn't. As the last of the ice melted away, Cooper let his cold fingertips linger against Audrey's lower lip, brushing away a bead of water that was threatening to course down over her chin. She slipped the tip of her tongue between newly moistened lips, attempting to catch the same drop, and barely touched the cool fingernail of Cooper's left ring finger.

Audrey blushed, barely, and seemed embarrassed as she pulled her tongue back within her mouth. "Thank you," she mouthed, then cleared her throat to speak the words more audibly.

"You're welcome." Cooper's voice caught in his throat, too. He cleared it and lifted his hand away. Looking down at her, her wide eyes watching him, so full of relief, Cooper felt his insides twist. He wanted to hold her, let her cry against him and wail and rant and beat his chest because he deserved it for getting her into this mess.

"When I was there..." she began, her voice sticking, "I didn't think...I didn't..."

"Shhh, Audrey," Cooper said, lifting his hand to smooth back her damp tresses from her forehead, knowing what she was going to say without her having to say it. He lifted her hair from her skin and barely let his fingers comb through it as he set the strands back where they belonged. "We were looking for you. We were going to find you."

"I know," she seemed relieved. "I saw you, at the Blackjack table...and I thought you knew..."

Once again, that familiar pang of guilt hit him just below his solar plexus; he felt it getting harder to breathe. "Audrey, if I'd known, I would have—"

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"But you came for me. You saved me," she half-whispered, resting a hand on his thigh. "That's all that matters now."

Cooper allowed her to grasp his hand in hers as a wave of spasms rocked her calf muscles. Quick to respond, he massaged the tension away, first in her left leg and then in her right. She had been suffering from the muscle contractions all night as a result of her withdrawal. This time, he could feel the tightness, cast-iron firm, beneath his fingertips. Kneading her leg was like trying to massage a sack of rocks. She gripped the sheets as sweat beaded on her upper lip and she moaned and writhed in pain.

"Audrey," he said, "Audrey, stay with me."

As she groaned, and he noticed her eyes rolling back in her head, he had to think fast. While it might have been a good thing to let her escape the pain, losing consciousness was not something he wanted to actively promote. He dug his thumbs into the muscle. "Audrey, what is your favourite Christmas carol?"

"Mmm," she moaned, wincing in pain. She breathed quickly, gritting her teeth. "'Carol of the Bells.'"

He pressed his fingertips into her calf. "Breathe, honey. Deep breaths," he soothed, flexing his fingers and running them up and down her calf to knead the knots. "I like 'White Christmas,'" he said. "From the movie. It was one of my mother's favourites."

"Which?" she asked through gritted teeth. "The movie or the song?"

He smiled. "Both, actually."

Carefully smoothing his hands up and down the length of her leg, alternating between hard pressure and soft, he watched Audrey's body relax, her tears were replaced by the softest whimpers, then nothing. Her breathing slowed, and he knew she was almost asleep.

Cooper felt so tired himself, but he couldn't rest. He stroked her leg, willing the cramps to stop, counting down the hours since (what he assumed was) her last injection and trying to mentally calculate when the withdrawal symptoms would cease. He closed his eyes for a moment, working his fingertips into the fleshy muscles on the back of Audrey's right leg. His mind wandered as his hands slowed down over her skin. He thought about the heroin in her veins and envied it for getting to be so close to her. For the briefest moment, he imagined what it would be like to feel her leg against his, her hands on his body, her lips against... .

"Agent Cooper?"

He blinked, his eyes flying open, and his face colouring with the barest hint of a blush. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid to close my eyes... ."

He softened his gaze and lifted his hand away from her calf, letting it rest on top of hers again. "Audrey, you're safe here," he said. "Deputy Hawk is at the door. Sheriff Truman is a phone call away," he squeezed her fingers gently, "And I'm here. I'll stay right here with you."

"All night?"

Cooper nodded. "All night."

She visibly relaxed, her taut neck muscles loosening and her head resting back even more deeply in the down pillow beneath her. For a moment, her eyes closed, and Cooper thought he saw her smile.