That Afternoon

4:34pm

Cooper stopped rowing the boat once they'd reached about a hundred yards from the shoreline, and he let the gentle tide do the rest of the work as they glided to what he figured was pretty close to the geographical centre of the lake. He rested the oars inside the boat, careful to avoid dripping water in Annie's lap, and for a moment was distracted by the serene ripples caught in the golden glow of the still-high sun's beams.

"You're far away today," Annie said, breaking his reverie.

He sighed, smiled, and shifted his weight carefully until he was leaning his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry, Annie. It won't happen again."

"No, that wasn't meant as a criticism!" she laughed, painfully. "I'm still far too new at the social interaction thing…I was just making an observation."

Cooper smiled. "Well, in that case."

"Is it anything I can help with?"

Cooper considered. There were so many things going on he barely knew where to begin, and none of it was particularly appropriate to share with someone like Annie anyway. You're certainly not going to tell her that the woman you once upon a time—and still, probably—pined for is the seeming target of a madman's wrath, are you?

"My job here in Twin Peaks is exceedingly strange and perplexing at times, Annie."

She nodded. "Twin Peaks is exceedingly strange and perplexing."

"Do you think so?"

Again, Annie nodded. "It has its charms, but it can be dark too."

Cooper stared at the scar, barely visible under the cuff of Annie's sweater, and then back out onto the lake and towards the trees. Annie, too, grew quiet. They drifted like that in silence for a long while, the only sounds being the occasional duck and the constant lapping of the water at the sides of their canoe.

"I used to swim here, every summer," Annie continued. "Two or three times a week."

Cooper smiled. "Then I made a good choice," he said, once again taking in the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"I always felt closer to nature than I did to people," Annie confessed.

"Why?"

She grinned. "I never had many friends," she said. "Norma was always Miss Popularity. She was always moving toward the world, and I was always moving away from it." She paused for a moment. "I lived in my head, mostly."

"That's not a bad neighbourhood."

"There are some pretty strange neighbours," she laughed.

Cooper took a stab. "Many boyfriends?"

"No," she shook her head.

He had a hard time believing it. "Really."

Annie wavered. "Well, I had one."

"High school?"

Annie nodded. "Senior year."

Cooper pushed, gently. "Have anything to do with why you went into the convent?"

Annie bristled; Cooper saw it in the way her smile disappeared and her posture changed. He didn't regret the question, but he considered how he could have better approached it.

"I'm sorry," Annie said finally. "Do you mind if we don't talk about it?"

"Not at all," he shook his head. "We can talk about whatever you'd like."

"I want to come back to the world," she smiled. "I was so frightened for so long."

"I understand."

Annie cast a long glance over the water. "Hiding from your fear doesn't make your fear go away," she spoke.

Cooper felt the pang of his own fear, rooted in his stomach, and pushed it aside. Is ignoring the fear the same as hiding from it? he wondered as he felt a second pang, stronger than the first. He nodded at Annie, his voice softened. "It makes it stronger," he said.

"So I had to face it. I had to face myself," Annie continued. "I had to do it here where everything went so wrong."

Cooper sighed and leaned forward, taking her hands into his and gently—finally—turning her arm so the scar faced the light. He traced his finger over it, lingering on her pulse point. "Annie, I know how hopeless things can seem," he said. "I know about the dark tunnel you can fall into."

Annie took a breath. "It happened before I went away. It happened because of that boy."

It was no revelation, but it saddened Cooper all the same to hear her speak of it. "I had something similar happen to me. It made me want to disappear from the world. Because of that, maybe I can help…"

Annie took the first tentative move toward him, angling herself across the midsection of their boat to kiss him. Cooper was surprised at her eagerness—unexpected from one so recently committed to life as a nun—but even more surprising was the fact that, though he tried to, he didn't feel anything. Tenderness, compassion, yes; but fire, or longing, was missing. He pulled away wondering if she'd felt the same lack.

"I don't know you very well," she admitted.

He shook his head, perplexed and frustrated and dejected all at once. "No," came his flat reply.

Her face washed with contemplation. "I'm trying to learn how to trust my instincts."

Cooper worried, for a brief second, that he was treading once more in familiar waters, that he was leading a poor girl down a path she wasn't ready for, into dangers she couldn't possibly understand. "What do they say?" he asked, combing his hand through her hair and puzzled again at feeling nothing.

Annie sighed but nodded. "Trust," she replied.

Cooper was relieved but hesitant. She kissed him again, and it should have been romantic, but Cooper's heart felt stunted.

As if reading his thoughts, Annie pulled away and quizzed him with her eyes. "How were you hurt?" she asked.

Cooper sighed. "In love?" he asked. "I loved someone I shouldn't have." He looked down at his hands. "She was someone I should have been protecting, and I failed. She died."

If Annie was shocked or horrified, she hid it well. Instead, she watched him. "And your heart has been locked away since then?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly. There was one other. Recently. But it didn't work out."

Annie nodded. "I see."

"She, too, was involved in a case I was working on. We got closer than we should have," he scoffed. "Perhaps you see a pattern."

"You love deeply," Annie nodded. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"When the people you love get hurt…yes, there is."

She shrugged and pulled her sweater around her tightly. "I think a well-informed adult in possession of the facts of a given situation would be well within her right to decide for herself whether a risk was worth it or not."

Cooper grinned at her rebuke; it sounded so much like Audrey's. Perhaps they weren't so very different after all.

"Are you a well-informed adult?" he asked.

Annie turned to face him. "I'm not involved in one of your cases."

He nodded. "That's true."

"But even if I was…"

From faraway the sound of a loon floated down the length of the lake, and with it came a chill in the breeze. Annie shivered again, and Cooper sat up straight. "Perhaps we should head back to the dock."

She nodded, she smiled. "Good idea," she returned. "I know a place with great coffee."

Cooper flashed her a thumbs up, making her laugh as he pulled on the oars and began to row them back to the shore, thinking about their conversation and the impact a relationship with someone like Annie would have on his life. He scoured the deepest recesses of his mind, waiting for a sign from his subconscious, a signal that he was onto something.

For the first time in a long time, his intuition failed him; his mind was blank.