(Untitled)

[dale_cooper_fbi]

It wasn't that the IBI had ceased to exist in the absence of a permanent office. It was more that life's other challenges proved more pressing, and unravelling the mysteries of the island (and the other mysteries that all too seldom presented themselves) took a back seat to helping to actually run the island. They weren't mutually exclusive, but

Comments

[jdick]

"Your own office," Joe said, sounding pleased as he joined Dale, a cup of coffee in one hand and a donut in the other. There was a number of reasons he was proud of what Dale had done, but the only one he was going to voice at the moment was probably the one Dale expected the most.

"Does that mean we can use it for our own purposes, too?" he asked, grinning.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"I seem to recall that we already have," said Dale mildly. "Does it not count if the office wasn't open yet, or were you just angling for another shot at that thing you were doing when you slipped on that loose board?"

[jdick]

Joe snorted with laughter, then, donut still in hand, put his arm around Dale. "Maybe," he admitted, looking around the building again, a genuine smile replacing the half-leer he'd been wearing. "Seriously, though, it's fucking great, man. This is yours."

It was easy to do what you were meant to when all you had to do was pick up a guitar. Being from the FBI made it a little tougher to keep doing that thing when you came to the island, but Joe liked that Dale kept going.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"I wouldn't say that it's all mine," said Dale, though he looked around with a certain amount of pride for taking it this far. "After all, the idea is that this building will soon house a team of investigators. But I'm sure we can still find time to make inappropriate use of it."

[notaparker]

There are flags. There are arrows. I'm out and about and trying to build my strength up, I might as well follow the flags and arrows. To a building -- a new one, I did kind of wonder what was going up there -- from which I smell... donuts?

"Is this another pastry shop?" I say, poking my head in. I'd go all the way in, but part of me wonders if this is a trap of some bizarre kind. A delicious, delicious trap.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"In a perfect world, the IBI and the pastry shop would be one," said Dale, brandishing a donut, "but alas, we have to settle for them being in close proximity. This is the new headquarters of the Island Bureau of Investigation, open for business at last."

[notaparker]

"In a perfect world, all the places and the pastry shop would be one," I say, taking this as evidence that this is not a sinister trap and entering, edging towards the donuts. I assume they're for the taking. There were arrows. "The... of Investigation? I did not know we had a bureau of that."

Wait, is that rude? I mean, I didn't, but maybe I shouldn't have just announced that.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"It's been a fairly quiet bureau for some time," conceded Dale. "I prefer to think of it as biding our time until our services were once again needed. But it's nice to have offices. I've missed having an office, I have to admit." There was even a reception desk, though it was currently unattended.

[blondrussianspy]

Natalya had a basic understanding of the island's various departments because, in a place with a population the size of the island, a basic understanding was essentially all one required. She herself was ITF, and after the Rapture incident, felt herself to be so through and through. Not that she had missed killing, but it had been satisfying to be of use, to have her rifle in her hands and people's lives on the line and to be actively saving said lives.

If not so much the others guys'. Still, there was a new building erected, and she had to admit herself curious. Natalya had gone from being a teenager to being a spetsnaz to being an SOS, and had spent the last year of her life in Russia more often in government buildings than eagle's nests.

Also, there were donuts. She hadn't been aware anyone had come up with donuts on the island yet. They probably weren't going to be pochinki, but they smelled promising.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"Go on, help yourself," said Dale at the slightest sign of hesitation. All were welcome, of course, whether they came for the refreshments or for the business or for other reasons entirely. "They won't be fresh forever, though if I know the human race, there's already someone hard at work on the problem."

[blondrussianspy]

"Perhaps," Natalya said, offering the man a smile as she turned toward him.

"You are... Special Agent Cooper, da? Natalya Zamyatin," she offered, extending her hand, "ITF, former FSB."

[dale_cooper_fbi]

It had been a long time since someone addressed him by that title. Dale found he actually missed it, though he'd been the first one to insist it didn't apply anymore here on the island.

"I'm not sure I'm familiar with the acronym," he admitted, but he didn't miss the accent and could make some educated guesses.

[willbewonderful]

Used to be, Duck could associate memories with every corner and cranny of his handiwork. A rooftop where a bird landed on his arm. A windowframe where he got a splinter beneath his fingernail.

He can still do that, but now he also remembers the little aches and pains that came with each. The door frame where his joints throbbed. The floorboard where he twinged his back. He's getting older, and it's a thought that might should scare him, but it doesn't.

Not so long as Geoffrey's still here to get old with him. Grinning, Duck clamps his own fingers to the sore muscles in his neck, eying his husband where he stands, casting plainly wistful eyes at the bakery.

[legendarymadman]

It's not that Geoffrey isn't interested in Duck's handiwork. Far from it, he still sometimes makes an afternoon of taking a picnic lunch out and watching Duck build things. Shirtless. But the whole bureau of investigation thing still makes him a little edgy; authorities have not always been his friend. So he focuses on the important part of the afternoon's festivities.

When he turns back to Duck he smiles and lets his eyes wander up the straight edge of one corner of the building and says, "I think it's time to build our dream home."

[willbewonderful]

"Dream home, eh?" Not so long ago, Duck would've insisted they had it already, back when Sunny had her own room, pink as a damn daisy. But a year and a mended heart later, he gets it. A person isn't limited to just one dream home, not with the right person to share it with.

"You got plans you're not telling me about?"

[legendarymadman]

"We talked about it a long time ago," says Geoffrey. Before they were ever married, before electricity and plumbing. Before a lot of things they've been through since then. "Building a big house with all the amenities. Room to dance. Room for a lot of things.