Prologue

One Day After the Blossom Incident – 15/12/2017

-X-

The Sheriff's Department had immediately launched into ransacking the Blossom house as soon as Clifford had been apprehended. The most immediate objective was making sure that the children were okay, especially with one in critical condition with three large gunshot wounds. It was far from what they had expected to be happening that morning.

For Sheriff Tom Keller, he had been hoping to walk in on Clifford, Penelope and Cheryl having breakfast, forcibly taking Clifford down if necessary. No mess, not too much violence but some partial excitement of being the tough guy.

But no, that was too much to ask for one good, exciting morning. Now, he had a dying kid on his hands and a goddamn drug-lord hiding in his town.

The paperwork was going to be absurd. He dreaded returning to the station.

He couldn't stop thinking about the blood, how it leaked from the kid like it was water from a dodgy pipe. The kid was defending Cheryl Blossom, and she was cradling him in her arms as soon as he fell. Keller had never prayed before in his life, but it felt like he did, especially considering how quick the paramedics got the kid out of harm's way. Looking as the Blossom patriarch leered at his daughter, gun aimed at her head and ready to pull the trigger.

Keller was not going to have a familicide in his town. As he was dragging Clifford back to the manor of Thornhill, Tom made his disdain well-known to the murderer when he put a round of .45ACP through Clifford's left knee and foot. Self-defence was going to be an easy method of getting out of that one, hardly excessive force when he was threatening to kill his daughter and already half-succeeded in killing two. One knee wouldn't matter where he was going.

It was the following day of the call that the Blossom residence was turned inside-out. Anything to find out why Clifford had almost killed his daughter and her friend, his motive for killing his own son, why he had torn his family apart. It was a question that Tom Keller wanted an answer to, and the maple syrup magnate had yet to spill his guts in the interrogation room, the sheriff of Riverdale would find out himself.

It was when they scoured the rest of the estate, the maple barn just off the way that he got his answers. Hundreds of barrels of maple syrup, the sickly-sweet sauce that he'd put on his pancakes at Pop's. Looking for anything, the sheriff and his deputies had knocked down a tower of barrels, spraying the sticky substance all over the floor.

As well as dozens of white plastic wrap-ups, which upon unwrapping were discovered to be a stockpile of black-tar heroin.

Clifford Blossom of the Blossom Maple Company was a godforsaken drug lord.

It had not taken long for Mayor McCoy to turn up to the scene of the crime. At first, the deputies had been reticent to turn her away, she was a citizen at the scene of the crime until she had given them the dressing-down of their lives. This concerned her, and not just her, but the reputation of her town. Needless to say, there was a selfishness to her visit too, it made her look bad for not being aware of a major drug lord, as well as the possibility of a mass familicide.

If Keller had not arrived on time, he had no doubts that she would definitely start barking orders to his men. As much as he respected Sierra, she didn't do police work, she didn't know the procedures. This was not her area of expertise. Granted, Tom Keller was only the Sheriff, the big lifting was done by forensics, and even then, it took time because results came from New York. This was his town, and he would be damned if he was gonna leave it to get ripped apart by half-way crooks like the Serpents and Ghoulies and drug lords like Clifford Blossom.

Standing in the entry of the manor, he watched silently between the open double doors as the department combed through hundreds of paper forms, manifests, documents to see where his product was going. His phone was soon rumbling violently in his pocket, and the ageing sheriff took it out to answer promptly.

"Sierra, I swear to God, I've said this is going to take time. At least wait till the end of the day, it's eleven in the fucking morning."

"I don't have the time, Sheriff Keller. I want that entire manor trashed; I need answers otherwise FP is going to be going down alongside Clifford. This looks bad enough as it is, I don't want to send the one person keeping the Serpents in line to jail. So do your goddamned job."

Of course, she had dropped the line at that point. She liked to do that, sometimes a little too often. Keller grumbled under his breath, the mayor was going to be the death of him at some point, or at least she would be until the DEA decided to come down and get on his case. That was something to dread when they began to tear apart his department and leave without putting any of it back together.

"Shit, this is a freaking mess. Holloway, Merrick, hurry this up. Anything you find, cross-reference it with any of Clifford's major outgoing deliveries to major cities. Get anyone at the station to contact those police departments if it isn't too late and get ready for the DEA to come knocking on our doors."

There was an awful chill coming from the open doors, the snow falling heavier and heavier as the day passed. The black tar of the driveway had been carved out of the snow, the police cruisers settling as the light blizzard began to settle in again. From what he had heard, Keller knew that the blizzard would get worse, the events of the day before had merely telegraphed the rough winter that Riverdale was about to traverse. The sheriff could only hope that the winter wasn't too harsh, they needed a light at the end of the tunnel.

It wasn't just him, but the town needed something to look forward too.

-X-

The hospital was always so clean, so quiet, so sterile and unearthly that it never really felt like a true hospital. It was more like a temporary check-in that wasn't often visited for severe reasons due to the lack thereof. Nobody got hurt in Riverdale that they couldn't self-medicate with plasters, bandages or pills. The occasional broken leg or fractured wrist from the local school sports team was common enough, but ever since the Serpents and Ghoulies had started their own little turf war, it was slowly escalating.

Stabbings and the rare gunshot wound, something that allowed for the small surgery theatre to become useful. However, since the death of Jason Blossom had thrown the town into minor infamy, it seemed as if the South Side had violently uplifted itself from obscurity. Despite that, that morning it was not a South Side boy that was brought in, but a young man from Riverdale High.

Well-built and covered in blood, followed by a crying lady with burning red hair. Three gunshots, slight hypothermia due to the harsh snowfall. The boy was as pale as the driven snow, freezing cold when the head surgeon placed the back of his hand on the boy's forehead.

The chaos that had made itself known had run rife in Riverdale that morning. It was a three-hour surgery; the boy went into convulsive shock when the second bullet was retrieved and had been asleep for the rest of the surgery. He lived, and thankfully the young girl had no injuries other than a few scrapes. Identification gave them the names of Edward Lodge and Cheryl Blossom. It wasn't until later that the hospital staff found out about the events at Thornhill. It was morbid, a father that had already killed his son, but trying to kill his daughter and her friend? How could this ever happen, in Riverdale of all places? What did their little town do to deserve such evil?

It had been the last check of the night, with Doctor Armando Montana making last checks before he clocked out and left the hospital to the nurses. The young man was still healing, and the girl was still sat silently next to him, holding his vigil. Montana had to observe, she was definitely dedicated, he noted as he looked at his chart.

"Anything?" the older medical practitioner asked.

"Sleeping, since he arrived. Other than that, nothing. He's not comatose, is he?" the ginger bombshell asked, small blotches of makeup on her face.

Montana shook his head. "No, he's stable. We'd know if he was going into a coma. He should be fine by tomorrow afternoon if we're lucky. Maybe in two days or so if he needs more recovery."

"Are you sure? He'll be fine?" Cheryl questioned, her hand falling to the boy.

"Cheryl, your name is Cheryl?" she nodded, "I've talked to Dr Clarke and Dr Asimov, and they have assured me that he will be fine. The surgery was fine, apart from his convulsions. Even then, they were a one per cent risk, he will be fine."

Cheryl took in his voice, and with bated breath, she did not reply as the doctor walked away. She tightened her grip on Edward's hand, mutely begging for some kind of response, for him to tighten in his hand in response so she knew he was going to be alright. There was no tightening, she had yet to get used to Eddie not giving some smarmy comeback or a witty deflection. She needed something of his, something to know he was still around.

His personal effects had been cleaned, washed and placed at his bedside table. Black leather wallet, wristwatch, two silver rings and his silver Horn of Plenty chain. Cheryl had opened his wallet, thankfully it wasn't spattered in his blood. Thirty dollars, a credit card, student identification card and three images from the last year of school.

One with Kevin and the wrestling team, winning the district championships.

Another with Archie, Jughead, Betty and Kevin. Cheryl was there, hiding in the background of the image, hand curled around Edward's bicep as she hid behind him.

The final picture was with his dad, in front of a Formula One car somewhere sunny. Their arms were wrapped tight around each other, linked shoulder to shoulder.

He was at Thornhill because of her, Eddie had almost died because of her, he jumped in front of death because of her. She was looking at everything that he still could lose. The bandages were heavy around his leg and his chest. She could remember vividly how heavy the red, sticky liquid was on the snow. The repetitive claps of her father's gun. How he stalked her into the maple orchard and how silent he was, how he was mere milliseconds from killing her too like he massacred Jason.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. This is all my fault, I'm the reason you're here…" Cheryl whispered, praying that her words would awaken him, to no avail.

She couldn't help but remain like that for the rest of the night, always holding his hand when she was with her unconscious saviour. She'd look at the pictures in his wallet, observing how cocksure and self-assured Eddie was last year after he left Thornhill and returned to Ravenscroft, his true home. Smiling, arms crossed knowing that he had a best friend in Betty and a flirtatious queen in Cheryl. She couldn't help but see herself in the background, notice how she was hiding because, like always, she wasn't in that crowd, she wasn't one of them.

Why couldn't she just be normal? When did she stop caring about people? She cared too much, cared about her reputation more than the people who seemed to care too much about her. Was this what it was like to care about someone again?

She looked at his smaller ring, the slim silver finish and how it merged to create a black ace of spades. He always talked about how that would be the first tattoo he'd get. She took another look at the ace of spades before she slid the ring on her finger. It wasn't tight, it wasn't stuck on, but instead, it felt just right to her.

-X-

When he had heard the news of gunfire at Thornhill, Julian 'Jules' Lodge had immediately tried to get a hold of his son. The adoptive father was well aware of his son's relationship to the Blossom children, knew they were close but he couldn't allow his kid to be in danger. That was his boy, even if they weren't of the same blood. The town had continued with its regular day from what he could tell, but there were families that he knew would already be all over what had happened.

He was part of one of them. The local news had already confirmed that Clifford Blossom had been apprehended for the attempted murder of two teenagers and would be charged with the murder of his own son. It sent a rare chill down his spine; it was few and far between that something would genuinely worry Jules Lodge but to know a father had murdered his own son in cold blood? That was terrifying.

In their quiet little town, it seemed like a dark shadow had been cast over it once again.

As soon as the radio made note of one child being in critical condition, Julian took his phone and leapt into his Mercedes, the kids jumping into the back as he sped threw the little town of Riverdale to the hospital.

Why did everything wrong happen now, of all the times?

-X-

His son.

Her love.

Their friends.

They took the solace of knowing the culprit for the crime spree was in custody, but it didn't little to soothe the heartache that one of their friends was fighting for his life. Defending one of their own, like the rest of them had always said they would do. Of course, Edward Lodge would be the one to take it literally. Archie had always said that the two of them were hot-headed, but now Edward had proved it. He'd finally upstaged Archie in something when he always said he would try to not make Archie look bad.

Jughead stood at the foot of the bed, arms stuck deep in his pockets as he remained silent. Edward had always been there for him when he was alone and struggling when Archie had thrown them away so he could have Miss Grundy. He always knew the meaning of being a friend, sticking by to help whoever needed it. They might have clashed from time to time, but Eddie was his best friend, for better or for worse.

Cheryl had stood, to allow for Betty to take her seat. The blonde teen had yet to say a word, but she had immediately almost fallen to her knees at the sight of an unconscious Edward. Her first boyfriend, her best friend. Tears fell freely as she clutched his hand tightly in her own. She kissed his knuckles, crying in the quiet.

It didn't take long for some of them to stir too long in their own thoughts. Of course, Jughead soon left for the sake of his own sanity. He'd never been able to sit still in one place unless it was Pop's. Fred Andrews had called Archie home since his mother had come home once again since Jughead's birthday. Mary Andrews' visits from Chicago were few and far between, and the girls and Julian understood why he had to go. Cheryl had soon found another seat; she'd need to stay for a few more check-ups before they would allow her to go.

Soon enough, even the elder Lodge needed to stretch his legs. Asking if the girls wanted any food, he left quickly and allowed the two girls time to themselves and the unconscious teen. Julian was not stupid, he knew he was involved with Betty, but then he had called in the morning when he was at Thornhill with Cheryl. He sounded tired, but that odd variation of cheerful and happy that was usually a result of teenage stupidity.

"He'll find out this shit doesn't go away soon enough…" Julian muttered to himself in front of the vending machine. "Edward, you goddamn fool."

Cheryl had taken a seat, camped next to Betty as she stroked Edward's forehead. She could see the outline of bandages that were wrapped around his shoulder and stomach, under the hospital gown. The boy had jumped in front of three bullets, pushed her to keep going when if she was alone, she would have been long dead. He was the sole reason she was still alive, she owed him everything.

The redhead's hand moved to cover Betty's. "He saved me, he'd want you to know, even if he wouldn't say it."

"I know he wouldn't say it. He'd say something like 'oh I was just helping a friend' or something stupid like that. I love him, but he's can be dumb sometimes." Betty replied, a choked chuckle emanating from under the tears.

Cheryl gave a sad smile. "Maybe you should tell him when he wakes up. Throwing yourself in front of bullets isn't particularly wise, not even for me."

"I'll make sure to tell him when he wakes up. Maybe tell him yourself?"

Cheryl didn't reply for a moment, merely looking at Betty before he eyes fell to the unconscious Edward. Why did he have to love her, love Betty, and then be so dramatic as to almost get himself killed? Of course, Cheryl was well aware and thankful that he did the right thing, running through the heavy snowdrifts to keep her alive. She did not exactly wish to be murdered at breakfast by her own father. Neither did she wish to freeze to death, but if encountering some unfortunate weather was the key to living a healthy life, she'd have run out of the manor with him every day of the week. It was the right thing to do, it was all she could do to feel better about it, as little as it did.

Keeping the secret from Betty, however, was much worse than the right thing. Would she ever be able to say the words, to break her heart? Was it for the best? Edward was running around all the time, he didn't need a break but he needed somebody who knew what his needs were, knew he wouldn't hang around for one person all the time. Cheryl knew it (and took it granted too).

She was a fool, a cold-hearted bitch who had taken Edward from Betty all because she was so weak-minded and brittle that she needed somebody to coddle her. Why was she so weak? Why was she such a raging cow who was never happy with what she had?

Because everything I had, I lost it to my goddamned, ruinous mutation of a family. I don't deserve what I have. I don't deserve Edward; I don't deserve life.

Cheryl opened her mouth, but the words she wanted to say could not come. She needed to say something, to just tell Betty the truth and break her as soon as possible so she could be put together later. She had no doubts that she would be seen as a demoness like her mother, but in her mind, it was a necessary evil.

Betty loved Edward; Cheryl loved Edward. For that moment, however, it seemed as if Riverdale (and the world) were in permanent flux.

-X-

So, it seems in my hiatus from writing and failing at writing for other topics, I have returned here. It took me a while to accept that writing for Riverdale would be a good idea, but here I am. I am planning to rewrite Season 2 in order to make it more coherent and functional (as well as realistic) instead of how chundering and coagulated it was in reality.

I'm going to try and create a much more coherent narrative, with a focus on Edward and how he will react to his actions in Season 1 as well as new events such as Hiram arriving, an all-new Black Hood arc as well as his relationships with Betty and Cheryl, also including the Serpents and Ghoulies.

Here's to you guys, hopefully this will be better.

-Senor Siete-