Jordan's first session with the psychologist was eye-opening for Jughead.

He was surprised by how relaxed and playful the environment was. The psychologist's building in Greendale resembled a quaint little house, except for the bronze plaque attached to the front door that declared this was the office of Jenna Dawson, licensed child psychologist.

The consulting room was filled with toys, and colouring in sheets and textas. There were colourful beanbags and several pieces of art resembling children's drawings of new-age Disney characters. Jordan still kept his hand clutched firmly in Jughead's for the first ten minutes while Jenna showed the pair around, but she had a friendly and open demeanour that settled Jordan in well.

Her hair was pulled up in braids that reminded Jughead of Toni's usual hairstyle, and her dark brown eyes were both kind and calm. She asked Jordan where he wanted to sit - he chose the small table that had brightly coloured plastic chairs tucked under it, and Jenna directed Jughead to sit beside him.

Jughead had only a vague idea of what to expect - he'd read Jenna's articles on Child-Centered Play Therapy, but the theory and the practice were two very different concepts to wrap his head around.

The first fifteen minutes of the session, Jughead didn't think anything unusual was said by his son. And yet he noticed Jenna nodding and gazing at Jordan intently as he coloured in the t-shirt of the little character he'd drawn with the vast array of textas available to him.

Jughead smiled down at him. "That looks really good, Buddy." He said, and Jordan glanced up to smile back at him before he reached out for a yellow texta and started colouring a yellow… blob at the bottom of the page.

Jenna queried him. "What are you drawing down there, Jordan?"

He replaced the yellow texta with a green one and started to scribble beside the blob and beneath the feet of the characters. "This is the grass in our backyard." He explained simply, and continued to scribble in green. He recapped the texta and placed it on the table beside his page. "That's the sandpit," he pointed to the yellow blob, "and this is Daddy's barbecue where he cooks sometimes." He pointed to a black rectangle in the corner of the page, and Jughead's lips twitched at Jordan's descriptions.

Jenna eyed the page. "And what about the people? Who are they?" She asked gently.

Jordan straightened up as he pointed to the tallest character. "This one's Dad, and that's Mom," he kept his finger sliding along the page, "this is me, and that's Emma. She's holding my hand because she isn't annoying me today."

Jughead covered his mouth with his fist to hide his smirk. Jenna nodded, her expression unchanging. Jughead tilted his head to the side as he looked at the paper. "You didn't draw Beth in your picture."

Jordan rolled his eyes. "She's still in Mom's tummy, Dad." He pointed to the middle of 'Betty' and looked up at Jughead. "That's why she's wearing her blue dress, see?"

"Oh, yes, sorry." Jughead said, unable to hold in his grin.

Jenna smiled at Jordan. "You did such a good picture. I think Dad has a little artist on his hands here." She said kindly, and Jordan seemed pleased with himself. Finally, Jenna asked the question Jughead had been waiting for: "So, Jordan. Do you know why you're here today?"

Jordan looked up at Jughead for a moment, then back down at his picture. "Because I don't want to swim."

Jughead frowned a little, and wanted to correct him - he wasn't here as a punishment for not swimming, and Jughead worried that Jordan would see it that way. He and Betty had explained that they wanted him to talk to a lady that would talk to him about why he was scared of swimming. Jenna flicked her eyes to Jughead in a gentle warning, and so Jughead kept his mouth shut and waited to see how the session unfolded.

"Why don't you want to swim?" She asked.

Jordan looked back up at Jughead again, who swallowed. "You're allowed to tell her Buddy, don't worry about what I think." He said, and Jordan looked back down and picked up his green texta.

"Swimming is… scary." He said, and a little frown came over his face. Jughead's heart squeezed in his chest.

Jenna didn't press him for more information at that stage. Instead, she asked Jordan what his favourite toys were (predictably, he answered with trains) and she encouraged him to join her on the floor beside a tub of miscellaneous kids toys.

"I don't think I have any trains in here, but I do have some wooden cars. Do you want to help me line them up on the track?" She asked, and Jordan's interest was piqued enough that he nodded.

The track was actually a rug that had roads and houses printed along it. Jughead sat cross legged beside Jordan, who sprawled out on his belly and wove his wooden car along the roads. He named several buildings (the elementary school, Thornhill, and the hotel where he'd stayed with his family during their New York getaway), and labelled two of the green patches of grass as Picken's Park and Washington Square Park.

Jughead's anxiety was first truly raised when, unprompted by either of them, Jordan placed his car next to Picken's Park and said: "Did you know I have three grandma's?"

Jenna moved her own wooden car along the track. "Oh? I didn't know that."

Jordan nodded and pointed to 'Picken's Park'. "This is where I met my new Grandma."

Jughead was alarmed, his neck started to boil with heat, but he kept his composure as the psychologist asked: "Can you tell me about her?"

Jordan kept his gaze on the toy car. "She doesn't like Mommy." He said seriously. He picked up the car and rolled it between his hands.

"Do you see Grandma a lot?"

Jordan shrugged. "She comes to my school sometimes."

The fear that was welling inside Jughead increased. "When did she come to your school?" He choked out.

Jughead knew of exactly one time that Cora's mother had shown up to his school. It was two weeks after Bethany was born, but Jordan had been home sick and neither Jughead nor Betty had ever told him about it. They merely started increasing the safety measures in place with his teachers.

Jordan stayed quiet, then abruptly ducked his head down. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jughead was about to press him further, but Jenna took over the conversation. "Okay. What would you like to talk about?"

Jordan placed his car back on the mat. "I don't know."

Jughead's mind swirled with a thousand possibilities as Jordan kept 'playing' with Jenna. All of them centred around Jordan's idle confession, and none of them were particularly cheerful. But when had Cora's mother approached him? She couldn't get inside the school gates, and the few times she'd come up to him in public, Betty or Jughead had been there, and were able to rush the child away from her before anything particularly nasty was spewed forth from her toxic lips.

But then Jordan recounted a time he played with River on the playground, the two of them pretending they were in a spaceship. He sat up on his knees to demonstrate the way he held his arms out beside him to 'fly', and Jughead stiffened as he considered a possible way that Cora's mother could have spoken to his son without any of the teachers realising.

Mrs Carter couldn't enter the school grounds…

… but nothing was stopping her from standing outside them.

Could she have spoken to Jordan through the fence that surrounded the elementary school?

The possibility was giving Jughead the beginning trails of a migraine. He needed to know, needed to know right now whether she'd been visiting the school. If she was… he didn't know what he was going to do, exactly. But he'd need to do something.

While Jordan was distracted by the psychologist, Jughead pulled his phone out and sent a message to Toni. Can you ask River if she's ever seen this woman at the school? He attached a photo of Cora's mother, the same one he'd emailed to the school's head office.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and refocused on Jordan. The conversation had circled back to swimming, and Jughead forced Cora's mother out of his mind. They were here for Jordan's fears, not for his maternal grandmother… but Jughead felt nausea rising in his stomach as the fear of what the psychologist might uncover became an immediate reality.

Jordan's little car was sitting inside a big blue circle on the mat, and Jughead grit his teeth as he realised it was supposed to be a body of water. Jordan didn't seem particularly bothered by the symbolism he'd unknowingly presented, and Jughead swallowed as Jenna placed her own car next to Jordan's.

"It looks like our cars are swimming." Jenna noted, and Jordan let out a giggle. She tilted her head to the side and asked Jordan: "Have you ever been swimming before?"

Jordan thought about it, and Jughead waited for his answer. "I went in River's pool at her house… but I was very little."

Jughead nodded as he remembered a day of swimming at Thornhill - back when Toni and Cheryl still upkept the pool (now, their hands were full with four kids, and he was pretty sure the last time he saw the once-clear water it had resembled a wildlife sanctuary). Jordan had been five at the time and had shown no signs of the extreme fear he had for water now. But even so, he'd stayed clinging onto Jughead's back when they'd ventured out of the shallow section of the pool, and Betty was more than happy to keep him sitting on the step with her and baby Emma for the remainder of the Summer swimming expedition.

Jenna looked into Jordan's eyes. "Was the water scary back then?"

Jordan pushed his car a little more before answering. "I don't remember."

Jenna nodded. "You know, it's okay to be scared sometimes." She said softly. "Lots of people get scared. Even adults."

"Dad doesn't get scared." Jordan responded, though he wasn't looking at either of them. Jughead, however, found that he couldn't look anywhere else aside from the hunched over back of his son.

Jenna raised her eyebrows. "I bet that's not true." She said knowingly. She leaned forward and whispered. "Why don't you ask your Dad if he ever gets scared?"

Jordan sat up slowly and looked up at Jughead. His eyes were worried and curious. "Do you get scared, Daddy?"

Jughead leaned forward. "Of course I do." He replied, and reached out to squeeze Jordan's shoulder.

Jordan frowned and looked down. "But you're brave, Dad. Brave people don't get scared."

Jughead scooted closer to him. "That's not true. I get scared of lots of things."

Jordan gave him a quizzical look. "Like what?"

"Like…" Jughead searched his brain for a child-friendly fear. "Like sometimes if I burn dinner, I get scared that your Mom will be mad."

That wasn't a real fear, and Jughead knew it. Betty had never been angry about his numerous screw-ups in the culinary department. If anything, Jughead in the kitchen was a source of amusement for them both. But Jughead had several experiences in the kitchen with his ex- wife that had left… deep rooted fears in his mind. It wasn't his or Betty's fault. Perhaps I should be seeing a therapist of my own, he mused. But let's focus on one Jones family member's psychological issues at a time…

Jordan giggled. "Mommy never gets mad at you." He said, and Jughead's heart warmed.

"I know." Jughead said, smirking. "But that doesn't mean I'm not scared. But you know what? I keep trying to cook, even when I am a little scared." He ran his hand over Jordan's unruly black hair. "I think that's what makes you brave. When you're scared of something, but you do it anyway."

Jughead hoped that wasn't too intense of a concept for a seven year old, but Jordan seemed to contemplate seriously for several long moments. He turned back and looked up at Jenna. "I fell in the pond…"

…..

The thing about kids: they're remarkably resilient.

Jughead noted the truth of it as he drove Jordan home from the psychologist's office. Jordan was tired, but in good spirits when he suggested they stop and get dessert to bring home. Jughead didn't have the heart to disagree, and let his son choose a flavour of ice cream from Greendale's supermarket - strawberry and mango swirl; Jughead thought Betty might appreciate the fact that Jordan had at least tried to pick a fruit (sort of).

He told Jughead that he thought Jenna was a nice lady, and when Jughead asked if he would be happy to go back and talk to her again, he enthusiastically agreed. "So I can become brave like you, Dad," were Jordans exact words.

Jughead told him that he already was brave. Jordan smiled as he looked out the window and watched the forest highway slowly lead them back to Riverdale.

Jughead's phone had vibrated in his pocket several times throughout the session, and he knew it would be Toni responding to his panicked message. For all his talk of bravery, Jughead was still too nervous to read them until he'd returned home and found Betty waiting for them in the living room. Emma proudly proclaimed she'd helped make dinner that night, and Jughead praised her salad tossing skills.

(Betty would later tell Jughead that Emma 'accidentally' threw a whole tomato on top of the fridge, and no matter how far back Betty reached to retrieve it, the tomato was lost in the void of the kitchen.)

Toni's response to Jughead's message had started with: Sure thing, but isn't that your ex-wife's mother? Which was followed up with: River said she's Jordan's grandma… Jug, what the hell is going on? And the final message had been: This is freaking me out. Why does my child know this woman?

Jughead began typing a response to Toni, and noticed the bubble indicating that she, too, was typing had popped up on his screen.

I got some more information out of her. Toni sent through. She said Jordan's grandma talks to him during playtime.

Jughead gave her the Cliff's notes version of what he'd figured out about Jordan's grandmother, and told her they'd talk about it more at work the next day. Toni was unimpressed but supportive.

Jughead and Betty had a lot to discuss that night.

Jughead sat his MacBook on his lap as he lounged in bed, and scrolled through the psychologist's notes. Betty leaned against his side, her head rested on his shoulder as she, too, read through the notes.

"He opened up about the pond." Jughead said, nerves building inside him. "The psychologist thinks that event triggered his fear of water, and she's recommended exposure therapy for him… She isn't certain yet whether there's any lingering anxiety from what happened when he was a baby, but she thinks in time she'll be able to get him to be more expressive with his emotions. I can't quite believe it, but that wasn't even the part of his session that shocked me the most."

Betty nodded, her head sliding back and forth against Jughead's shoulder as she read Jenna Dawson's statements. "Jordan expressed mild to moderate concerns about Grandmother's presence in life. What did he say, exactly?"

"Nothing we don't already know, really. Jenna tried to get him to talk about it, but he clammed up and I didn't want to push him too far in case he refuses to see the psych again." Jughead sighed. "But the fact that Cora's mother has been at the school without us knowing… it just terrifies me."

"Me too." Betty agreed. "We'll talk to the school again, obviously, but I don't know what we can do to stop her from showing up."

"If he's not on the playground in the first place…" Jughead said slowly.

Betty sat up and faced him. "We can't keep him in bubble wrap for the rest of his life." She said solemnly, then placed her hand on Jughead's knee. "He's seven. All he's going to see is that his parents and teachers won't let him play outside with his friends. If we smother him too much, we're only going to make ourselves look like the bad guys in his eyes."

Jughead ran his hands over his face. "I just don't want that woman influencing him." He said, worry etched into his voice. "He won't tell me what she says to him. For all we know she could be brainwashing him. Getting him on her side, telling him lies about Cora…" he swallowed, "especially if her endgame is to try and snatch him from the school when Cora gets released from prison."

"We're not going to let that happen." Betty said firmly. "She'll never get close enough to him for that to happen."

"We don't know that, Betty." Jughead's voice choked up. "He's not always in our sights twenty-four seven. She's managed to talk to him without us even knowing about it for… God knows how long." Betty bit her bottom lip. Jughead watched her face as a calculating look came over it. He felt guarded as he asked her: "What are you planning?"

Betty let out a long exhale. "I think we need to tell him the truth."

Jughead's eyes tightened. "He doesn't need to know the truth." He said firmly.

Betty reached out for Jughead's laptop and closed it, before setting it down on her nightstand. She reached out for Jughead's hand as a determined look came over her face. "We can spare him the gruesome details. But… if Cora does make bail, we have to be prepared for the worst case scenario. And as Jordan's parents, it's our responsibility to make sure he's prepared for the worst case scenario."

Jughead squeezed Betty's hand tighter. "He's already stressed enough… I don't want him living his life in fear of being kidnapped on top of everything else."

"It doesn't have to go that far. We don't even know for sure what his grandmother is planning." She said seriously. "We can ease him into the reality. Start off by explaining how… I'm technically his step-mother…"

Jughead shook his head. "You're not his step-mother. It's your name on his birth certificate now. Legally and morally, you're just as much Jordan's parent as I am."

A little smile replaced the anguish on Betty's face, but she took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, we're doing him no favours by hiding things from him. I'll concede that he's too young for us to go too deep into things like genetics and how babies are made, but we can gloss over the topic in an age-appropriate way that won't leave him too confused. At the very least, we need to ensure he understands that it's us he should be trusting. I'm certain he must be confused about how the Carters are related to him, but he bottles it all up and hasn't asked us to clarify anything. That makes me suspect he might know more about all this than we think he does… he's a very perceptive little kid, Jug."

After a lengthy discussion with his wife that continued into the late hours of the night, Jughead had to agree that Betty's proposed plan of action was the only practical outcome. They needed to give Jordan enough information to ensure his safety… Jughead only hoped it wouldn't completely shatter his views on their family.

…

Dealing with the topic of the Carter family had to take a back burner for a while. The month leading up to Christmas was purely hectic and provided neither Betty nor Jughead enough downtime to dedicate to unpacking that particular issue with their son. They negotiated with the school to keep them informed if Cora's mother showed up again, and while a strong part of Jughead wanted Jordan kept away from the playground altogether, the principal ensured him that their staff were all informed of Jordan's situation, and would all be keeping an eye on him whenever he played near the fence that surrounded the school.

If Mrs Carter approached Jordan again, Jughead and Betty would know about it.

Jughead spent most of December running an impromptu documentary project he named Writers in the Woods. It was an excellent distraction for him - he had something to focus on that didn't involve the lingering fear of his ex-wife - and was an overall success; while the TBK documentary was still wildly popular, Jughead had managed to generate enough hype about his own documentary that TBK no longer flooded the media outlets that were causing Betty the most grief.

Archie, in particular, appreciated the success of the documentary project. The whole ordeal generated enough revenue that he had plenty of funds to keep the Community Center running. He and Veronica held onto hope that when Hiram Lodge was finally kicked out of office and imprisoned, the new mayor would dedicate at least some funding to helping the people on the South Side get their lives back on track. But in the interim, all of the money raised by the documentary would go towards supporting the people who needed it the most.

For Jughead, the greatest result of his documentary's release was that nobody was harassing him or Betty online for information about TBK anymore. Instead, his fans (and his critics) were engaged with the social media spectacle he'd created, and would send him conspiracies and theories about the Mothman of Riverdale that he'd share with his wife over coffee in the mornings. She'd laugh, and tease him about it, and the whole debacle provided her with an amusing distraction that stopped her from dwelling on TBK.

The nightmares slowed down, as did the sudden resurgence of panic attacks. She didn't need to go back on the anti-anxiety and depression medication her therapist prescribed. The script was there if she needed it, but she instead chose to re-implement EMDR and CBT techniques that helped her learn to cope with the trauma, just as it had when she'd first been admitted into Shady Grove years earlier. She stopped avoiding her emails, because nobody was begging her for interviews on TBK. She could turn on the TV without fear of seeing him, or her own past deranged and malnourished face appearing on the screen. Instead, she looked forward to teasing Jughead whenever the 'Mothman' made the afternoon news. Life could finally return to some state of normalcy, and though she kept attending her therapy sessions, she was confident that they'd decrease in frequency and necessity as time went on and serial killer enthusiasts stopped caring about her.

Betty's investigations into Juniper's information led Betty to Seaside, and Seaside led her to an arrest. Most of her time at work was then consumed with the legal paperwork and the interrogations that always came along with an arrest in the Hiram Lodge case.

When Betty readied the girls for the day, and told Emma to pack which toys she wanted to take with her to Alice and FP's house, she waited until the little girl had happily skipped away to her bedroom before she spoke openly with Jughead. Jughead was in the process of pouring coffee into a travel mug when Betty slid closer to him, her back resting against the kitchen cupboard.

"I'm interrogating Vern today." She said idly.

Jughead's eyes widened in confusion. "The Ghoulie? Malachi's henchman?"

Betty nodded. "We arrested him last week, but nobody has been able to get him to talk."

"What did Vern do?" Jughead asked and frowned as he screwed the lid onto the mug. "I'm sorry I haven't really been keeping up with your work lately…"

"No, don't worry about it." Betty said earnestly. "You've had enough to worry about, and if I told you everything that happens with the FBI we'd be on the topic all day, every day. And it's not like I've been grilling you for information on your students' essays."

Jughead snickered and nodded, but his face was still concerned. "Even so…" he sighed and turned to lean back against the cupboard. "Is Vern connected to Hiram Lodge?"

Betty nodded. "It's going to be hard to prove, but we think Hiram hired Vern to take out our witnesses. Sally Wallis included."

Jughead's eyebrows raised. "Jeez, Betty."

"We have enough evidence to convict him on two murder charges, and one attempted murder charge. Sally positively identified him in a line up, and we've moved her out of state until the trial's over." Betty sighed. "She won't testify against Hiram, but we'll at least have her testimony against Vern."

Jughead nodded and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I'm sure you'll get him to admit Hiram paid him to do it."

Betty groaned. "Don't jinx it. He's been particularly tight-lipped since we brought him in. Hasn't even asked for a lawyer."

Their conversation had to end there, because Jordan hurried out into the kitchen and proclaimed: "I'm ready, Dad!" His backpack swung on his shoulder before he shoved his other arm through the hole. "Come on, we're gonna be late again!"

Jughead raised his hand. "Okay, okay, relax. Miss Woods isn't going to give you detention if we're twenty seconds late to the room."

Jordan huffed and jogged towards the door. Jughead sighed and picked up his coffee mug, then smiled as he kissed Betty on the cheek. "Good luck with your 'suspect' today." He said.

Betty nodded and reached up to meet his lips with her own. When she pulled away she smirked. "Hope your students aren't still complaining about the legitimacy of Victorian-era romance novels."

"Oh, so you were listening to me." He grinned as Betty raised her eyebrows. He leaned down to kiss her again—

"Dad!"

"Alright, alright, we're leaving." Jughead called out to Jordan. He stepped away from Betty and looked back over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen table to retrieve his briefcase. "Am I picking the girls up this afternoon?"

"Please and thank you." She said, smiling at Jughead as he hurried to catch up to their over-enthusiastic child.

…

Vern was, as Betty knew he would be, completely unwilling to cooperate with her investigation.

She let him stew on his own thoughts for a while as she consulted with her fellow agents. Unfortunately, none of them had any ground-breaking new methods to suggest to get Vern to talk. Betty sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"We could try appealing to his humanity?" Agent Wendy suggested half-heartedly.

The other agent, Gordon, scoffed. "Humanity? This guy cut his best friend's head off."

Betty slowly moved her hand away from her face, and looked at them both. "Actually, Wendy… that's not a bad idea." She said. She turned and stared through the two-way mirror and looked at Vern. He sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest and a glare on his face directed at the styrofoam cup of water sitting on the table in front of him. "Maybe we can appeal to his humanity."

Wendy raised her eyebrows. "I was joking… but you go ahead, Betty. By all means, go and soften up the man who slit open a man's throat and then stabbed a woman six times."

Betty rolled her eyes as she placed her hand on the door handle. She took a deep breath before turning it and walking into the interrogation room.

Vern kept glaring at the table as Betty closed the door. "You can ask me as many questions as you want. I'm not changing my story." He said gruffly.

Betty walked forward and placed a hand on the top of the chair opposite Vern's. "Oh, I'm well aware that you have no intention of talking to me. I'm here to talk to you."

That made Vern glance up at her. "Is that the kind of A plus police work the FBI uses these days?" He gave her a stone-cold glare. "Not surprising, since they're letting Serpents in their ranks now."

Betty wondered how confused the two agents watching them would be. It wasn't exactly well known that Betty had joined a gang while in high school. She was sure some of her colleagues knew about Jughead's involvement… but 'exposing' Betty still wasn't quite the serve Vern clearly thought it was.

Betty leaned forward, her hand gripping the chair tighter. "You're trying to intimidate me?" She asked. "That didn't work when I was sixteen, it's not going to work now."

Vern stared at her for another moment, then glared back down at the table.

Betty stood up straighter and started to slowly pace around the small room. "We have your confession," she said casually, "what we don't have yet is your reasoning." She paused as she stood behind him. "Care to clear up some of our confusion?" Vern ignored her, so Betty moved to stand beside the table. "You and I both know you didn't wake up one morning and decide Malachi looked better without a head."

Betty thought she saw a flash of anger in Vern's eyes, but it was hard to tell when he was already glaring.

He stayed silent, and Betty decided to take a seat across from him. She folded her hands together on the table, and kept her face neutral. "What does Hiram Lodge have on you, Vern?" She asked cautiously. "Sally Wallis didn't do anything to warrant murdering her. No to you at least. And while your confession in Malachi's death ties everything up in a nice little package for us, I have my suspicions that you didn't actually kill him."

Vern's expression wavered for a moment, but the glare slid back on a split second later.

"So who are you protecting? And why?" Betty pressed. "Let's say Hiram put a hit out on your best friend, tried to make him disappear. Why would you take the fall?"

Silence.

"You're going to jail for the rest of your life, Vern - assuming the judge doesn't give you the chair." Betty lowered her voice. "You talk to me, and I can guarantee parole after thirty years. No death penalty." She tilted her head to the side. "Hell, you might even get out in time to meet your future grandkids."

Vern's shoulders stiffened.

"Do you have children, Vern?"

He finally looked up at her. "Are you really going to sit there and pretend you don't already know every detail about my personal life?"

Betty's expression didn't change. "You know, I have three kids," she said quietly, "and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for them," she leaned forward and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "especially if I thought it would keep them safe."

Vern's eyes stayed on Betty's, and a trickle of fear showed itself in his brown irises.

"Talk to me," Betty pleaded again, "don't give Hiram Lodge the power. Tell me the truth, testify against him."

"I can't…" Vern's voice finally cracked. "You saw what happened to Malachi."

Betty's heart raced - maybe she could get somewhere with him. "Look, I get it. You have a family. You're worried about what might happen to them if you talk." Betty said earnestly. "But we can put your kids into witness protection."

He snorted. "Witness protection? Because that's been working so well for your other witnesses."

"Because you managed to find Sally, right?" Betty pressed. "How did you track her down? Or, more accurately I suspect - how did Hiram Lodge track them down? Tell me how he found out their location, and I can promise your wife and kids are going to be safe. Lodge won't be able to find them."

"You can't promise that." Vern said, his eyes darkening as he glared down at his hands. "And even if I wanted to talk, I couldn't. He'll find out, and my family will be dead before the end of the day." He whispered the last part so quietly that she barely even heard him: "He's probably watching me right now."

Betty made a show of sighing and standing up from the table. "You're making a mistake, Vern."

Vern shrugged and looked dejectedly down at the table. Betty kept her face neutral as she stood up from her chair. As she exited the room, Gordon and Wendy were both still waiting for her beside the mirror.

She shook her head at them, and said: "We're not going to get anywhere with him." They both nodded, looking visibly disappointed.

She remained calm as she walked back into the office, but internally, Betty's heart was racing. On the surface, Vern had told her absolutely nothing.

But if Betty delved even just one layer deeper into his statements… well, what Vern said revealed a lot.

…

Betty was still wired like a bomb about to go off when she pulled up at the gates of SoDale's residential community. She showed her ID to the reception security guard, told him she was here to visit Charles Smith, and after he'd checked she was on her brother's approved list of visitors, she waited patiently for the gates to open before she drove through.

But Betty wasn't going to visit Charles.

She parked behind the set of apartments that were rented by the majority of Riverdale's FBI Agents. A faint feeling of nostalgia washed over her as she looked up at the window of her old apartment. The new tenant had placed polka-dot patterned curtains over the blinds.

Betty placed a cap over her hair, removed her blazer and pulled an old jacket of Jughead's over her blouse before she stepped out of her car. She made the short walk into the apartment's basement, then scanned rows of cars for her target.

Locating it, she checked to ensure there were no residents still in the area, then half jogged over to the shiny blue Sudan. As she passed, she used all the force she could muster to kick the front of the hood.

The car's alarm blared immediately.

Betty kept jogging until she made it to the corner of the basement parking lot. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, and kept her head down. Still, after several minutes she could see the elevator doors opening and closing as residents came to investigate the noise. A few checked to see if it was their car, then walked back into the elevator. One tenant took their phone out and made a phone call before getting back inside the elevator, and Betty grit her teeth as the annoying alarm pierced her ears.

Finally, the tenant she was waiting for stepped out from the elevator's silver doors.

He fumbled for a moment while retrieving his keys, and Betty near-sprinted her way over to the tall brunette man. The sound of the alarm hid Betty's footsteps, but he was still on high alert as he noticed her running.

Betty saw him reach for the gun holster on his hip, and she lifted one hand up as she pulled her cap off with the other. She barely heard him mouthing the words, Betty? What the hell? Before she stepped closer to him.

"Is your phone with you?" She yelled over the ear-piercing sound.

"My what?" He practically shouted.

"Your phone?" She called louder, and took another step towards him. "Is it with you?"

She couldn't hear his response, but he shook his head and gave her a quizzical look as he finally pulled his keys out and silenced the alarm.

"Jones, what is going on?" He asked sternly. He eyed her with suspicion as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lincoln, I need to talk to you." Betty said seriously.

Director Lincoln stuffed his keys back into his pocket. "And you couldn't have waited until you're back at work? Orcalled me? You had to set off my car's alarm and corner me in the basement like a psychopath?"

"Yes." Betty said urgently, and some of Lincoln's visible annoyance disappeared as his eyebrows rose.

Lincoln crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright. What happened?"

Betty swallowed and lowered her voice. "I think we have a leak." She admitted, and shoved her hands back in her jacket's pockets. "I couldn't talk to you at work because I'm not convinced someone isn't monitoring our office. Or our computers. Or our phones." She pursed her lips. "Or your apartment for that matter. We should probably search for monitoring devices."

Betty half expected him to disagree with her. Instead, his face paled slightly as he nodded and lowered his voice to match her own. "Okay… okay, alright. Where did you get this idea?"

"Vern. The guy from Seaside we arrested for the attack on Sally Wallis."

His eyebrows raised. "You got him to talk?"

She shook her head. "No. He's not going to crack. But he did say something that made me start thinking—"

Lincoln cut her off with his hand. "No, not here." He whispered. "I don't know how much audio dash cams can pick up… but most of these cars belong to other agents. We have to be careful."

Betty nodded. "Okay. Do you want to go somewhere to talk? Or should we do a sweep of your apartment first?"

Lincoln looked, for a moment, uneasy. He shifted nervously on his feet, and suddenly a faint blush washed over his cheeks. "Ahh… actually, I have company over…"

Betty tried not to look surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, I can come back later, but this is kind of urgent—"

"No, no, it's fine…" His cheeks were reddening into a deeper crimson, but before he could say anything else, the elevator doors slid open again.

Betty almost looked away and clutched the cap in her hands, ready to shove it back on her head… but then she recognised the face of the tall, blonde and chiseled man who was exiting the elevator with a concerned look on his face.

"Betty?" Charles said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Betty raised her eyebrows. "I could ask you the same question." She said, then a smirk slid onto her lips as she looked at the bashful form of Director Lincoln. "But I think I already know the answer."

…

It took the three of them an hour to thoroughly search Lincoln's apartment for signs of monitoring devices. Betty pretended not to notice Charles' jacket on the floor beside the bed, nor the rumpled duvet. But she definitely noticed the blush on Lincoln's face starting to slowly fade away as the hour progressed.

It was a silent mission. They couldn't risk being overheard.

Lincoln was the first to speak. "I think we've covered everything. Still, we should be careful with our phones."

Betty nodded. "Should we turn one of them on and test it for bugs?"

Lincoln nodded in agreement. Charles helped him set up a small device that had several twisting wires, and offered up his own phone as a test. It was easily cleared, but there'd been no real reason to suspect it of being bugged.

It's not like anyone in the FBI knew Director Lincoln was seeing him during… private hours.

Betty turned her own phone on next and Charles plugged it into the machine. It performed the initial analysis, and was cleared, but Charles wanted to double check there weren't any remote devices interfering with it.

So Betty found herself calling Jughead.

His voice sounded staticky when he answered. "Hey, Betts. You're on my car's speaker."

Another little voice spoke up immediately after him. "Hi Mommy!" It was Emma, who sounded cheerful.

Betty smiled. "Hi, guys. God, is school over already?"

"Sure is. I just picked the girls up from our parents'. Jordan wanted to stay and play some new video-game with Chandler, so he's eating at theirs." He explained. "How do you feel about advanced macaroni for dinner?"

Betty couldn't stop herself from feeling amused as she watched Charles listening intently to their phone call through his headphones. "Advanced macaroni? That sounds dangerous."

"I would have used the term 'ambitious', but you sound intrigued, so I'm making it anyway."

"Mommy, there's snow on the house." Emma announced in the background. Betty deduced Jughead had pulled into the driveway, and could be about to hang the phone up.

Her suspicions were confirmed. "Hey, Betts, do you mind if I call you back? I have groceries, two small children and not enough hands to carry all of them and the phone."

Charles frantically shook his head, and Betty hurried to keep Jughead talking. "Um, actually, I just had a quick question."

"What is it?"

"Ahh…" Betty started, "what are you wearing right now?"

There was a long pause. "What am I… Betty, not that I don't love the insinuation of impending foreplay, but it really is cold out here."

"Put the heater on, Juggie." Betty said quickly, and tried not to die of embarrassment when she said: "It probably won't warm you up as fast as I will later, but…"

Jughead snickered, but luckily Charles gave Betty a thumbs up and took off his headphones before Jughead's response came through. Incredibly luckily, because while the double entendre Jughead made about setting fire to their bed may have gone over their two-year-old's head, Charles definitely would have understood it.

"No bug. You're good." Charles said confidently, and set to work on Lincoln's phone.

Betty let out a sigh as she made her way out of the living room away from the other two occupants of the house. "Sorry, Juggie." She said quietly. "I needed to keep you talking so I could figure out if my phone was bugged."

"Aww, you mean to tell me that was all a ruse? I'm hurt." He said jokingly, then abruptly his tone turned serious. "Wait, you thought your phone was bugged? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Well, no, but our phone calls aren't being monitored." She said honestly. "I'll talk to you about it later - Emma's probably about to burst out of her car seat. Sorry for keeping you waiting."

"It's okay." He said. "I know a great way you can make it up to me, though…"

Betty grinned as she made her way back to the living room. "I look forward to it. See you in a couple of hours." She said quietly.

"Later, lover." He chuckled. Betty heard the faint sound of him saying: "Em, relax, I'm coming, stop messing with your sister's seatbelt—" before he hung up the phone.

Betty approached the two men who were huddled over the device. Once he'd determined that Betty was no longer on her own phone call, Charles turned Lincoln's phone on and placed a finger on his lips.

The device showed no indication that there was any monitoring software on Lincoln's phone, but Charles wasn't convinced. So Lincoln made a phone call to Little Cicceros and began making an order for delivery while Charles listened intently to the audio through his headphones.

Thirty seconds into the call, Charles gave Lincoln a grim look.

It was all the confirmation they needed.

They all stood around the now-switched off cell phone. Betty chewed nervously on her thumbnail, and Lincoln glared down at the device with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I am reasonably certain they're only monitoring your phone calls." Charles said calmly. He wore his perpetually difficult to read expression, but Betty thought she could see a layer of fear behind his eyes. "The rest of your cell is safe, unless they're using an advanced monitoring technology that isn't even on the FBI's radar."

Lincoln was less collected. "Phone calls are enough." He huffed out a sharp exhale. "Any information we have on Hiram Lodge that I've sent my agents out to investigate… God, every phone call I've made to confirm witness locations. All of it could have been recorded by whoever is keeping tabs on me."

"And you're certain it's Hiram who's behind this?" Charles asked, looking at Betty.

"Yes." She nodded in confirmation. "Vern was convinced that Hiram was watching him at FBI Headquarters. Why else would he think that, unless he knows Hiram has somebody on the inside?"

"This is… bad." Lincoln said seriously. "I can't believe someone on our team is leaking information directly to the man behind one of the most complicated rings of crime I've seen in almost twenty years on the job."

"Not just that." Charles said glumly. "They've heard all of your… personal phone calls too."

Lincoln's expression stiffened, but he didn't comment on the insinuation Charles made. "If this has been going on since I became the Director… then that's five years worth of information that's been leaked."

"God, it's no wonder our witnesses are being compromised." Betty said solemnly. "All of them are processed through you. And what if it's not just your phone they've bugged? They could have hacked our databases, your office might be wired… any one of the agents in Riverdale can get into our files. All it would take is someone being alone in the office for a… minute or two. If they wanted certain evidence to 'disappear' all they'd need to do is erase it."

"And they have." Lincoln confirmed. "A lot of the information we collected on Hiram Lodge when Garrickson was the Director was deemed 'irrelevant' or not solid enough to warrant a conviction." He admitted. "But maybe it had been useful… but by the time anyone was able to properly analyse it, it could have been tampered with. In any case, a lot of our original investigative work was lost or corrupted years ago. I assumed it was Garrickson's doing, though he never confessed… and he was the one who was working with shady characters like Ned. But if he was working with Lodge, too…"

"It can't be him now." Betty pointed out. "He must have had an accomplice, if he even had anything to do with Hiram Lodge."

Charles held up a hand, frowning for the first time. "Hold on, hold on… someone is monitoring your phone calls. That's been confirmed. Information has been leaked, giving nefarious creatures like Hiram Lodge access to key witnesses against him. I'd say we can confirm that, considering there's no other way your witnesses' locations could have been compromised. And we believe that some evidence may have been deliberately tampered with. But… say we never figured this out. Let's just assume, for a moment, that Hiram Lodge got away with his crimes because your case fell apart in court. Wouldn't the FBI at large start to come to the same conclusion as Betty?" He looked between them both, his eyes intense. "That there was a leak in your chain of command?"

Lincoln nodded. "I assume so. There'd probably be an investigation into our headquarters conducted by a separate branch of the FBI."

"And whoever is bugging your phone knows that." Charles said urgently.

"What are you saying?" Lincoln asked, his eyes narrowing.

Betty's eyes widened. "He's saying that someone is trying to frame you." She breathed out, her heartbeat speeding up.

Lincoln's frown deepened. "Even so, I doubt that would hold up. I'm the director, and we have proof that someone is remotely monitoring my phone calls."

"Yeah, until they stop monitoring it when your phone is seized and you're arrested." Charles counteracted.

Betty fought the urge to chew on her thumbnail. "Lincoln, if someone's watching you then they know about… your relationship with Charles." She swallowed. "How hard would it be for the higher ups to believe you're the one leaking information to our suspects when you've been seeing a well known, disgraced, convict ex-FBI Agent?"

…..

The worst part about Betty's investigation was when she'd finished explaining it all to Jughead, and they both came to the conclusion that they had to tell Polly about Juniper's involvement.

The big conversation, that Sweet Pea would later term World War Cooper, took place on Christmas Eve. Betty asked Alice to keep the kids occupied while she and Jughead talked to Polly and the older twins…

"You should have told me straight away!" Polly practically growled. "How could you have just sat on this information? My kids were running around the South Side talking to criminals in known dangerous areas and I'm only finding out about it now?!" Betty felt a stab of guilt, but it was nothing compared to the look of regret on Jughead's face.

"Polly, we're sorry." Betty said honestly. "So sorry. I didn't know for sure that anything would even come of the names Juniper gave me. I've only just finished looking into the connection between Hiram's prison and the homeless Southsiders, and I swear to God nobody in the FBI has any idea that she was my informant."

"And just how long do you think it'll be before someone mentions to Hiram Lodge that the only red-headed teenage girl in town was asking them all about him?" Polly asked. Some of her anger was being replaced with hysteria. "How long before somebody figures out that a sixteen year old worked out what the FBI has been trying to prove for years? Do you honestly think she'll be safe?"

Before Betty could answer, Polly rounded on Juniper.

"And you!" Her voice cracked as she glared at Juniper. "Why in God's name were you even down there in the first place? I told you to stay the hell away from the truck stop - do you know the kinds of people who wander around there?"

Juniper's eyes flashed dangerously. "People like you, you mean?"

Dagwood shot her a warning look, but she shook her head at him.

Polly let out a humourless laugh. "Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh, come on, Mom." Juniper said angrily. "You think me and Dagwood seriously believe you were a bartender when we were kids?" Polly's face became distraught, but Juniper marched forward with her words. "Do you think it didn't affect us when you got abducted by a serial killer? When we thought you were dead? That you'd been raped and murdered and left in a ditch somewhere?!"

Polly's lips wobbled as she reached a hand out to her daughter. "Juni…"

"If it weren't for Hiram Lodge you never would have been a target for the Highway Killer in the first place!" Juniper exclaimed. She started pacing back and forth across the living room as she spoke. "It's his fault you lost your job when he defunded the social workers. His fault that the only way you could make money was by selling sex! His fault that the FBI were even in Riverdale in the first place! He's the reason you were almost murdered!" Juniper's eyes were shining with unshed tears, and her voice croaked out her last affirmation. "I am not staying silent about it anymore. How many other kids are in Riverdale who don't have parents anymore because Hiram Lodge has made sure the only place they could find work had a direct impact on their safety? How many kids are in foster care because their parents are forced into crime? It's sickening!"

Polly's eyes filled with tears, and Dagwood reached out to put his hand on his sister's arm. "Juniper…" He said quietly.

"No." She clipped, and pulled away from him. "This entire town is bullshit, and Hiram Lodge needs to answer for it! I'm not apologising for trying to do something about it." She turned on her heel and ran in the direction of the staircase. They all flinched as the sound of her bedroom door slamming echoed throughout the house.

Betty took a step towards her sister. "Polly…"

Polly shook her head. "No. I don't want to hear it Betty." Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. "Witnesses in Hiram Lodge's case are dying. You said so yourself. And I had no idea that Juniper was one of them."

"She isn't, Polly." Betty said seriously. "I've kept her name out of it completely. We're not going to publish her article exposing Hiram for what he's doing to the homeless population. I personally talked to the people Juniper indicated had something to say, and through that investigation I found my perpetrator in Seaside."

"Juniper," Polly said seriously, glaring at Betty through her tears, "isn't an FBI Agent. She's seventeen. She's a child. She's my child. And as my sister, you should have told me what risks my child was taking the second you knew about them."

"Mom, it's not Aunt Betty's fault—"

"Dagwood Cooper, don't you dare try and justify this situation. I have plenty more to say to you later about your involvement in all this." She crossed her arms over her chest, and some of her anger turned into sorrow. "I need you both to leave." She said, her eyes switching between Betty and Jughead. "Now. I can't… I can't do this tonight."

Betty nodded, and Jughead noted tears building up in her own eyes. "Pol, I promise, nothing is going to happen to Juniper."

Polly merely looked at the ground as Jughead took Betty's hand and led her back into the living room…

The drive back home was tense, and neither parent spoke, even as Jordan and Emma giggled and pointed to the colourful Christmas lights that were scattered over some of the houses they drove past. Jughead couldn't tell whether Betty was more angry at him or herself, or Polly for that matter, but he was too wound up to try and break the awkward silence that stretched between them.

Of course, before anything else, they were parents. And so when Jughead pulled the car into the driveway, he felt Betty reach out and squeeze his hand. He looked down at her, and watched as she took in a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. She turned to look at the kids behind them and said: "Who's ready to read a Christmas book?"

"I want Daddy to read it!" Emma proclaimed, and Jughead swallowed back the negativity to smile at his kids.

They'd both apologise to each other and talk it all over later… for now, they had family Christmas Eve traditions to both uphold and create, and three very energetic children who looked nowhere near close to sleeping.

…

Christmas Day started out well. Jughead and Betty could almost forget the screaming match that had unfolded between the Cooper women the previous night; it was easy to do, when they had two kids who were so filled with excitement about opening presents and showing them off to their parents, and a baby who needed their undivided attention.

The oldest kids took turns 'helping' Bethany open her presents, and Betty smiled as she took pictures of the three of them surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and boxes. She made a mental note to print one out and frame it for the office wall.

Thankfully for Betty's sanity, the kids were easily occupied by the thrill of new toys, so she and Jughead had time to unwind in the kitchen as they slowly mixed pancake batter (Betty) and brewed coffee (Jughead). She'd just scooped a spoon of butter onto the frying pan and turned to reach for the batter when she realised Jughead had already picked it up.

"Here, let me help you." He said, forcing optimism into his voice.

Betty gave him a wry look, but smirked as she took a step back from the stove. "Be careful when you're pouring it in… it comes out fast."

Jughead nodded, and Betty tried not to cringe as he almost lost control of the bowl. But a (mostly) circular pancake started sizzling in the middle, and so Betty gave Jughead a smile when he looked up at her.

"You're a professional chef at this point." She joked.

He set the bowl down on the counter. "I've learned from the best." He winked at her.

Betty kept the smile up for a few more seconds, before she sighed and hunched her shoulders. "Maybe we should just stay here today." She said quietly.

Jughead reached for the pancake flipper on the counter. "Your Mom will be upset if we don't show up." He said seriously. "And I have it on good authority that Jellybean wants to surprise Dad with her presence; I'm sure the kids will want to see her and Britta."

Betty looked down at her hands. "But Polly…"

"Isn't going to be angry forever." Jughead assured her. He placed his free hand on her shoulder. "Sweet Pea said she's already calmed down a lot, and isn't nearly as upset as she was yesterday."

Betty raised her eyebrows and looked up at Jughead. "You've been talking to Sweet Pea about us?"

"Oh yes, we're two regular old gossips." Jughead smirked.

Betty shook her head. "I just don't want to cause any drama… It's Christmas after all."

"I know, Betts." Jughead said. "You know, this time we screwed up - but our family is so… huge that I'm sure by New Year someone else will have done something stupid that'll put our indesgression to shame." He slid the flipper underneath the pancake and slowly turned it over. "Maybe we can talk about how I owned that pancake. Look at it, Betts! It's perfectly golden." She smiled and leaned against his side. He kissed the top of her head and whispered: "It'll be okay, Betty."

Jughead was right - everything at Christmas was okay.

Jellybean made a typically dramatic entrance (while Britta blushed behind her) that hyped up all the members of their family. FP, especially, was pleased to see her, and Chandler spent a great deal of his time sitting beside his older sister and asking her questions about California.

Alice made the comment over dinner that she wouldn't mind seeing Charles bringing someone home for Christmas one day. Charles hadn't responded, but his eyes made contact with Betty's, before his cheeks turned a pale shade of pink and he looked down at his plate.

Betty and Polly were… tense, but polite with each other. And at the very least, nobody started yelling. The sheer amount of children in the house was enough of a distraction for the family, anyway.

In the end, Jughead and Betty were glad that no matter what was happening with the adults in their family, their kids were immune to the stress. Whatever else could be said about their parenting skills, they hadn't failed their kids in that regard.

The only thing left to do now was to make sure their kids kept being safe. And that started with explaining to Jordan just how he came to live in Riverdale, and why it was important that he stayed very far away from people like Mrs Carter.

But they'd wait until Christmas was over for that conversation.