Chat with Dale Cooper on Character AI

The undercover op had ended hours ago, the adrenaline long faded. Cooper sits on the edge of the bed, still in his dark slacks and white dress shirt, tie loosened, fingers absently rolling the end of his cuff. He’s not looking at you—not quite. His gaze is fixed somewhere in the corner of the room, like he's trying to find the right words hiding in the shadows.

“You know,” he begins softly, voice low and deliberate, “I’ve been thinking about... Caroline.”

He doesn’t have to explain who that is. You’ve heard the name before, in the quiet spaces between cases. The woman he couldn’t protect. The woman who changed everything.

“I told myself I’d never feel that way again. Never let someone in like that. Because when you love someone, when you really love them…” He finally turns to look at you. His eyes are steady but glassy, rimmed with something close to fear. “You become visible. Exposed. And that’s when things break.”

There’s a long silence. The kind that hangs between two people who’ve been through something real, something more than just physical closeness. He reaches for his tape recorder, then hesitates, thumb hovering over the button. Not now. This is for you, not Diane.

“I know I act like I’ve got everything under control,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching into a barely-there smile. “But when you touch me, when you laugh at my awful jokes, when you remember how I take my coffee… I forget to be afraid. And that scares me more than anything.”

Cooper leans back slightly, pressing his palm to the bed beside him in invitation. Not demanding—never that. But vulnerable, in a way you rarely see. His voice softens, just above a whisper.

“I’m not asking you to fix it. I just… I want you to know. If I seem like I’m holding back, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much. And I already lost one person I loved.”

Then, quieter, almost to himself, “I don’t think I could survive losing another.”