Woo-hoo! And the story goes on... :-D

Skyrider45, I love your description of Kevin getting a firehose to the face. Pretty much! :-D We'll see what fallout comes of that... Poor FP, yeah. He's getting to orchestrate things and manage people, but he's far more comfortable being front and center when things are going down. Wires should finally begin getting uncrossed, but it might take some work! :) You are quite welcome for the chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one also!

Living Lucid Dream, I thought that was a great read of Sweet Pea and Gunnar. They do have a lot of similarities and just a couple of (glaring) points of friction. I have a hard time picturing the two of them and Jughead being three good buddies, but I think they've all got some things in common that will eventually help them settle into better friendships. And yes, the emptying-guns thing is iffy at best, but it is something, and I'm with you - hopefully it makes a difference. Yay Joaquin! Kevin might not be thrilled with him right about now, but it was great getting Joaquin back into the thick of things! I'm actually starting to think I should have said "several kitchen sinks," but we'll see what you think as the rest of the story plays out... :-D I'll love hearing your thoughts!

Enjoy!

-Button

00000

Betty had been surprised to hear that everyone else was riding up to Toronto in Mr. and Mrs. Andrews' vehicles, but she could see right away that not having to drive the whole way was appealing. She texted Alice back to ask if there was room in the pickup for one more.

'Sure. I'll let them know you're coming. You can leave your car here,' Alice replied.

Hours later, Betty was sitting between Gunnar, who was driving, and Sweet Pea, whose phone was blowing up with text messages that were clearly irritating him immensely.

"Group text?" Betty ventured. Conversation had more than lagged; it had been stilted when it was not nonexistent, and she almost regretted not having driven herself. Music or a podcast would have been infinitely better than this.

"Yeah." Sweet Pea glowered down at his phone. "I don't know why the Southside Serpents even care; it's well outside of our territory and everything that has to do with us is ancient history - it was over long before my time. I'm staying out of it, but they're insisting on looping me in on the drama."

Gunnar made a quiet sound of disapproval and Sweet Pea glared over Betty's head at him..

"Is it anything to do with Jughead?" Betty asked curiously.

This time a derisive snort came from both teenage boys. They shot startled glances at one another when they realized that they'd had the same reaction to Betty's question.

"I know there's no love lost when it comes to Jughead." Betty rolled her eyes. "But seriously, does it involve either him or his dad?"

"FP was running things back then," Sweet Pea replied reluctantly. "So there's that."

"And as we know, all roads eventually lead to Jughead," Gunnar added brightly, with just a lilt of sarcasm in his tone.

"No kidding." Sweet Pea's exasperation was evident. "He's not the total disaster I always thought - I mean, FP kind of had no time for him for a while, and that definitely says something -," Betty winced at hearing that stated so baldly, "-but between him and Davies…"

"It's like a lightning rod?" Gunnar supplied.

Sweet Pea snorted again, but this time in amusement. "Pretty much."

"Well. That is because of the Serpents," Betty said, stung by the unexpected unity in the truck against her boyfriend. "Not to mention because of unhealthy dynamics in the Southside at large. It wasn't exactly Jughead's decision to become ground zero for so much."

"And he's done such a good job at getting out of the middle of things." This time Gunnar's sarcasm was unrestrained. "He doesn't butt in or get involved at all."

Sweet Pea grinned appreciatively.

"That is because of Brand. And partly Mr. Jones." Betty set her jaw. "Jughead lives with them, so-,"

"Oh, FP has done surprisingly little damage lately," Gunnar said. This time Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Davies is clearly restraining him. Probably literally. Nope; Jughead's the one who keeps turning up just in time to escalate situations-,"

"Or create situations," Sweet Pea interjected.

Gunnar nodded in agreement. "Exactly. He does seem to create some of them. I mean, the Serpents totally overran the Southside after Southside High was bombed, all because Jughead ran off with some FBI guy without telling anyone, and then went missing. That didn't need to happen, and that's still biting people in the Southside."

"That has had some major fallout, yeah," Sweet Pea agreed. "The splinter faction screwed us over royally on the paperwork, so the Serpents are still sorting out those leases for the buildings where Jones and his insane buddies set off a bomb. "

"Hey. Archie's cool." Gunnar's tone had an edge. "He did what he had to do, and he actually deescelated a lot that day. Don't talk about what you don't understand."

"Whatever. It was insane. But yeah, I do barely know Andrews," Sweet Pea conceded. "What Alice sees in Jones, though, I will never understand."

"No kidding." Gunnar was silent for a moment. "By the way, you do realize that we're going to Toronto with Fred Andrews, a man who has no use for either of us, right?"

Sweet Pea grunted, sounding unconvinced.

"I'm serious. He's been vocal about keeping Archie away from the Southside for years," Gunnar insisted. "Archie even told me about Fred and FP growing up together and having a falling out; they're friends again now, but it's all complicated. They're friends again in part because Fred decided to blame the Southside instead of FP."

"He's always been fine to me." Sweet Pea's voice held a challenge. "Maybe it's just you he doesn't like."

"I'm thinking it's more likely that he has a problem with you, man. It's the Serpents he usually calls out, and he'll do that in front of me when I'm around for band stuff." Gunnar was focused on the driving now. "I just thought I'd give you a heads up. He's too classy to let on, but you might want to avoid the subject or whatever."

"He grew up with FP?" Sweet Pea was thoughtful. "Okay. I won't bring up the Serpents. Thanks."

Betty narrowed her eyes and looked back and forth between Sweet Pea and Gunnar. This version of a truce was far from the dynamic she'd expected, and she was not entirely certain that she approved.

00000

Rose reentered the room with two more men, and Jughead felt his heart speed up and his chest become tight once more. He glanced at Brand, though, and his breathing eased when he saw his godfather's confident expression. Jughead noticed that he'd unconsciously leaned forward to mimic Brand's relaxed-but-ready posture on the couch.

The Serpents were here. That meant his dad was here, or maybe hidden somewhere at a discreet distance while he called the shots. Brand was right next to Jughead, radiating an aura of complete control of the situation - even from his position as hostage. Everything was going to be okay.

All Jughead needed to do was stick close to Brand.

That would keep his godfather from doing anything stupid like getting himself killed to protect Jughead, and it would also ensure that Jughead didn't do anything stupid and get himself killed. They were a good team; Brand had always said so, and it had played out that way time and again over the past year.

"We're leaving. Bring these two; Toronto has officially become more trouble than it's worth, and it is not like I don't have enough to occupy my time in Montreal," Rose declared in a more surly voice than Jughead had ever heard from him before.

The four men who had been watching over Brand and Jughead were joined by the two newcomers, and they looked at one another as if they were not sure how to divide the work of 'bringing' Brand and Jughead along.

Brand's shoulders twitched. "We're not useful to you in Montreal."

"You have so little imagination, Brandon," Rose's voice was smooth once more and suddenly he was almost crooning. "There are more ways to be useful than merely acting as leverage."

Brand's shoulders did not twitch this time: instead, they looked as though they'd turned to stone.

Jughead tried not to react, but he was pretty sure that this was the worst threat so far if Brand's reaction was any indication. He still felt relatively calm, though: Brand knew Rose. The FBI was coming. They'd get out of this in no time at all.

Then Brand said something that didn't make any sense:

"You'd better have been right about the guns, kid. Don't touch Rose."

Without any further comment, Brand shoved Jughead forcefully down off of the couch and slammed him face first onto the carpeting.

Jughead's body reacted to Brand's action and words before his brain caught up:

They were making a stand.

Sort of.

Jughead realized a moment later why he was facedown on the floor when the room erupted with deafening gunfire.

Brand was cursing loudly, and Jughead was deeply impressed when he realized that his godfather believed that there were actual bullets spraying through the room - yet he did not hesitate to engage the armed men. Two of them joined Jughead on the floor before he had a chance to regain his feet.

Jughead sprang up and moved into position beside Brand, wincing at the volume of the continued gunfire but feeling his body settle automatically into his fighting stance.

This was what they'd been training for. Jughead was ready to defend - to prove - himself.

"What is wrong with you, Jones? No bullets?" Brand roared as he grappled with one man, and lithely maneuvered so that he could crush a second man's face with a vicious elbow.

Jughead did not answer right away. Instead, he took the time to sweep the legs out from under one assailant and to duck an ill-considered grab from another one. The men clearly saw him as far less of a threat than Brand, and he was able to get several cheap, damaging shots in before they stepped up their game.

"Brandon trained the boy," Rose shouted from across the room, where he was watching this play out. "Don't underestimate him."

"They're blanks, Brand." Jughead blocked a blow and grabbed the attacker's hand - and was gratified when he suddenly had a finger in his grip and could snap it quickly and easily while pivoting to strike at the man who had just driven a pistol into Brand's ribs as if it was a blunt weapon.

Brand growled as he ripped into the armed man - who was distracted by the unexpected attack from Jughead. The tearing sound that came from the man's shoulder was sickening and the man went down screaming as Brand did everything that he'd always told Jughead never to do in a fair fight.

For just a second, Jughead had time to lock eyes with Brand. He realized with a shock that they were both grinning.

"Blanks? And here I thought they were the worst shots in history. Oh my God, kid, you're a genius. Although those can still kill you at point blank range, so this was not what we'd call a watertight plan." As he spoke, Brand turned to move toward Rose. The older man had dialed someone on his cellphone and was backing out of the room as the fight unexpectedly began to look like it was favoring his two captives. "Yeah, you're not getting out of this so easily."

A gun came up.

"No! I didn't get to empty Rose's gun!" Jughead shouted. His eyes met Dominic Rose's.

And then Jughead realized that Rose was not aiming for Brand.

"Hit the deck, kid!" Brand launched himself at Rose in a last-ditch attempt to get the gun.

Jughead dove toward the floor a second time as yet another shot rang through the room.

00000

FP had figured that he'd better find out what was going on with the Serpents as long as Sarah and Chloe were gone. After all, it was now well past Midnight so their presence at this hour was bizarre on a number of levels - and sitting in the vehicle with Clark and Max was not likely to be useful in any way.

He hadn't expected to hear Rose's house blaze to life like an Old West gunfight when he strode in the direction of the ring of motorcycles.

FP did not hesitate: he fired off the text telling Clark to go in shooting, and he took off at a run.

When FP raced straight past the Serpents and a gathering crowd of police who were no doubt responding to the motorcycle gang's disturbance of the neighborhood, he heard a ripple of shock and then movement behind him. Good. Hopefully the Serpents were armed as well, because this mansion was big enough that having more people would make it immensely more likely that they'd locate Jughead before he'd bled out on the floor.

Which was a thought that FP really, really needed to avoid focusing on.

00000

"Oh!" Clark dropped his phone on the floor of the vehicle when he saw the text come in from FP. "Oh, um, hey, Max, are you good? I have to-,"

"You were supposed to run," Max supplied, opening the car door and pointing. "Take Trigger. He'll protect you."

Clark was about to object, but then something occurred to him as he leapt from the vehicle into the chill of the late night. "Trigger. Find Jughead. Jughead's here, boy. Find Jughead."

Trigger reacted like he'd been shocked, and was leaping against the leash as Clark began to run with him toward Rose's mansion and the sound of gunfire.

This might just work.

00000

Fred Andrews answered his phone with a puzzled frown. "Tom? It is really late, and you might recall that I drove all the way to Toronto today. What is it?"

"Do you know where Kevin is? Have you heard anything from him?" Tom Keller's voice was raw with fear.

"No." Fred was suddenly wide awake, though he had a feeling that he did not want to know how late - early - it was. "Is he missing? Wait, did he tell you that he'd be with us?"

"He said that he'd be with Betty Cooper. I think he didn't realize that she was going out of town with you all." Tom Keller's voice was rough when he continued: "I just got a call from the FBI with an update about Joaquin DeSantos; he disappeared earlier today. When I tried to locate Kevin, just in case Joaquin planned to contact him, I found out that I'd been lied to. They're both missing, Fred. I can only assume..."

"You think Kevin went off with someone who's a known target for-,"

"Exactly." Sheriff Keller sounded increasingly distraught. "I know it's late, but if there is any chance at all that one of the kids knows something- anything-,"

"I'll wake them up right now." Fred swung his legs out of bed and sat up. "You want to stay on the line?"

"I have more calls I need to make." Keller sounded slightly more composed, but still deeply shaken. "Thank you, Fred."

"You don't need to thank me. I'll call you back as soon as I've talked to them," Fred promised.

Once the call had ended, Fred took a few seconds to scrub his eyes and to hope with all his heart that Kevin was safe and that Joaquin was not leading him into danger.

Then Fred stood up resolutely. He'd wake Archie first.

00000

"Why on earth would you not lead with the fact that you hadn't emptied one of the guns?" Brand was shouting at Jughead even as he tried to stop Rose's arm from bleeding profusely. He turned on Rose when the man groaned in his grip. "Oh, no you don't. You cannot go to the hospital before you get beaten to a pulp by an entire prison's worth of convicts, you lousy-,"

Brand cut himself off from shouting into Rose's pained, pale face and turned back to focus on Jughead.

Jughead was blinking up at Clark and fending off Trigger as his dog danced over him where he was lying on the floor. Jughead had not been shot; Rose had clutched his right arm, dropped his gun, and fallen to the floor; Clark was standing in the doorway, holding a handgun.

And still it was hard to believe the obvious.

"Did you just... shoot Rose?" Jughead managed.

Clark seemed too shocked to formulate an audible reply. He met Jughead's gaze with wide eyes and simply nodded.

"Now, Jones, I'm not mad," Brand continued yelling with what sounded to Jughead a lot like fury, "but I lost a lot of years off my life just now, and let me just say that I might have approached this fight a little bit differently had I known that exactly one gun in this room contained live ammo."

"Clark?" Jughead ignored Brand's ranting, and instead he slowly grinned up past Trigger's wildly enthusiastic greeting to address his friend. "That was badass. You were amazing. And I really, really need a favor."

Clark smiled back shakily, his handgun cradled awkwardly in both hands as though he was not sure what to do with it now that he'd shot someone. "Uh, sure, MacGyver. No problem. Your dad's here somewhere too, but Trigger found you right away, and - uh, I mean… A favor? What kind of favor? What could you possibly-,"

"I need you to get a backpack full of stuff, my camera, and a puppy for me from the third room on the left, just up the stairs." Jughead pointed. "Can you take Trigger and get him out of the house, too? I don't want anything bad to happen." Jughead made a pleading face as he slid up into a seated position and patted Trigger energetically. "If the cops come before the rest of the FBI get here, they're definitely not going to let me walk out of here with a puppy. And I don't want anyone to confiscate my camera, so-,"

"Say no more. And, uh, actually, there are cops surrounding this place right now. I think they came because the Serpents are all over the neighborhood right now, but they'll be coming in here any second after all that shooting." Clark looked paler as he thought about his own words, but then he squared his shoulders and lowered his chin. "Um, I guess I'll just bring your stuff back to our apartment as 'evidence.' Up there?"

Clark motioned toward the staircase down the hall and Jughead nodded in confirmation. "Wait, you seriously have a puppy? How did that happen?"

"Rose gave her to me. You're going to love her. Just keep her safe, make sure Trig doesn't eat her, and help me think of good names." Jughead continued patting Trigger as he climbed to his feet. He was deeply relieved to have a plan in place. "Thank you, Clark."

"Are you kidding? Best part of the job." Clark took a deep breath, studiously avoiding looking at Rose. "I'll go get it squared away before anyone starts asking questions."

Brand seemed to be shaking off his shock; having stopped yelling, he was watching Clark with a tentative expression. They had not left things in a good place in Riverdale.

Clark nodded to acknowledge Brand. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner, Special Agent Davies."

"Don't be sorry; what Jones said goes for me too, Clark," Brand said emphatically. "Do I need to take that gun before law enforcement arrives? I'm getting used to filling out the paperwork, and you don't need the headache of being the intern who shot a perp."

"No, sir. Thank you, sir," Clark shook his head, "but I'm going to need to account for my actions or I'll never make it in law enforcement."

Brand nodded, giving Clark a small, impressed smile. "That might be true, but the offer stands. You deserve it, and I'd face fewer questions than you."

"Thank you, sir, but I've got it," Clark said gratefully. "I'm just thrilled that I was able to play even a small part in one of your busts."

"That was anything but small, Clark," Brand replied seriously. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." Clark ducked his head bashfully, gave Jughead a conspiratorial look as he darted forward to grab Trigger's leash, and then hurried off to find Jughead's belongings.

It sounded like the mansion was flooding with people, and voices were fast approaching their location.

Realizing that this was it, the end of their part in the plan, Jughead suddenly felt more jittery than he had through the entire altercation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he shot Brand a tentative look. "Did we do it, Brand? Did we pull off the bust?"

"Oh yeah, killer. We did it." Brand grinned up at him. "That was a home run."

00000

Fred Andrews felt his forehead knit as he listened to Archie's horrified, penitent confession.

The other boys had crashed all around the large room on piles of bedding as though they were having a slumber party; they were stirring in response to the hushed conversation the Andrews men were having, but both Archie and Fred were startled when another voice piped up.

"You think they might be traveling near here, on Serpent business?" Sweet Pea sat up as he asked the question. "I might know where they went."

"Really?" Archie's tone was filled with relief. "You think so?"

"Hang on." Fred hit some buttons on his phone. "I'm going to need you to talk to Sheriff Keller if there is any possibility that you know where they are."

Sweet Pea nodded. "Sure. Anything I can do to help. Joaquin's a good guy, and I like Kevin."

"We all do," Fred agreed, managing a smile as he waited for Tom to pick up. "Thank you, Sweet Pea."

"No worries; the Serpents have your back. After all, you're a friend of FP's." Sweet Pea shrugged, but he made piercing eye contact as he spoke. "You grew up together, right? That means something."

"Uh… I guess it might." Fred seemed taken aback. "I never really thought of it that way when it comes to the Serpents."

"We're big on loyalty," Sweet Pea stated, as if that was the end of the conversation.

Fred listened to the ringing continue. Just when he thought the call would go to voicemail, Tom picked up. "Tom, we think they're together. We might have a lead, and maybe even an address."

Sweet Pea nodded in confirmation.

"Thank heavens. Where are they?"

Fred handed the phone to Sweet Pea.

"Sheriff Keller?" Sweet Pea gave Fred a reassuring nod. "It's possible they went to Toronto on Serpent business. I don't know all the details of what's going down, but everyone's been buzzing about a motorcycle ride. Ready to take down the address?"

Fred and Archie exchanged glances. A motorcycle ride didn't entirely make sense.

"Maybe it's code," Archie whispered, frowning.

"Maybe." Fred eyed his son with concern. A long, serious lecture was going to happen... but probably not until Kevin was located, safe and sound.

Which would hopefully be soon.

00000

"Jug, you're okay. Thank heavens. You did so well; you knocked it out of the park." FP had Jones in his arms and lifted him ever so slightly off of his feet in an embrace. "We are never doing this again. Forget about going away to college. Think ankle monitor. And we're getting new locks on the windows at home."

Rose and his men had been taken away already to receive medical treatment, in spite of Brand's protests that they did not deserve it. He knew that everyone was going to be brought in for questioning while they sorted things out, too, with the possible exception of Clark since he'd left the mansion before the police had descended on the situation. Brand was grateful for that, at least; the intern deserved the break, and the FBI could oversee the inevitable investigation and paperwork concerning Clark's heroics.

Jones was laughing and choking out reassurances, but Brand was pretty sure that he could see tears of relief - or maybe of pain, since he was so sore - on the kid's face even from across the room. The reunion was nice to observe, especially since Brand was getting rougher treatment from the officers who were cuffing him as a matter of procedure; having something more pleasant to focus on was helpful.

"Sir, we're going to need you to step back."

No sooner had Brand noticed the discrepancy in treatment than an officer stepped over to the reuniting father and son and moved to separate them.

"Well, that's gonna be a no. I'm going to need you to give us some space. I'm sure you can find something else to do for now," FP retorted, barely sparing the officer a glance.

Brand grimaced; that was not likely to go over well. Two other officers moved quickly to back up the first one.

Suddenly FP's arms were being pried off of Jones and the man was being forcibly herded away from his son. FP began protesting angrily and trying to shove the officers off of his arms. "Hey! That's my son! He's injured, and if you think for one second that I'm just going to stand back and-,"

Two of the officers jerked FP backward roughly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Dad? Dad! They're not real cops, Brand!" Jones sounded slightly panicked, but mostly like he was getting ready to attack everyone in range around him. His adrenaline was no doubt still spiking through the roof. "It's a setup!"

Oh Lord. It had never occurred to Brand that he might need to talk Jones through how to get arrested without getting himself killed.

"Hey - no - these are real cops. Will someone please show him a badge? He's scared and he's hurt, and you can't just be yanking him away from his father like that!" Brand had visions running through his head of Jones, after everything they'd gone through, being violently subdued by a police officer who - rightly - saw the kid as a threat.

"Oh, we know all about you two. We got quite the information dump about you this evening." The officer grasping Brand's left arm was almost sneering, which made Brand think that he must be nervous. That wasn't good. "Trying to play games isn't going to get you anywhere."

"This is not a game. We're with the FBI. He's been held hostage in this house; he's underage. Get it together and let him hug his dad," Brand gritted out.

"Uh-uh. Don't let anyone try to tell you that he's just some kid. That's been their cover story for at least a year, but we know better; he's violent and he's killed before. Don't take any unnecessary risks." The man holding onto Brand was calling over to the officers who were now surrounding Jones.

The teenager was looking around himself in a panic as he realized that he'd just been accused of murder.

Brand had a very, very bad feeling about where this was all about to go.

But then it didn't.

"Do you really want to start shooting holes in FBI jackets? I will return fire, and I think you can guess how that story ends." The words cut viciously through the room as Agent Williams shoved her way between the police and Jones. "Here; put this on, intern."

Jones was quickly slipping his arms into a windbreaker that had 'FBI' plastered all over it. Williams jammed an FBI baseball cap onto his head as well. For a darkly humorous moment Brand wondered if she was going to conclude by wrapping the kid in an American flag. "Any questions?"

"Oh, come on. He's not-," An officer immediately and skeptically objected.

"You want to go down this road with me? Fine. Let's go down this road." Williams seemed to be warming to the conflict and her smile promised a world of hurt to anyone who crossed her. "He's our intern, whether you like it or not, and you will respect that. You might have to take him in to sort things out, but you will not manhandle an injured American - whom you have already been informed is underage - nor will you step so much as a millimeter off of the line of due process at any point, bucko."

Agent Williams was toe to toe with the objecting officer now. "Now, who thinks that I should ride along? Because I'm not convinced that you can handle that much professionalism all in one go without a few reminders here and there."

"Nobody's riding along-," Another officer spoke up; he seemed to be the one issuing orders.

"O-oh goodie; I guess you're being hung out to dry," Williams' tone turned falsely sympathetic as she continued to address the lower-ranking officer. "They must really dislike you. I know that I'd hate to be the one on deck and visibly at the center of this sort of international screwup, but I guess scapegoating is a problem everywhere."

The officer standing closest to Jones began looking around himself nervously.

Brand wasn't sure if he was feeling more pride or envy as he listened to Williams' incensed rant, but he figured it didn't matter: Jones was calming down and the officers were all taking a step back from the hurricane-force confrontation with Agent Williams.

"FP, do you think you can take it from here?" Williams motioned Jones' father back over. FP had been given an FBI windbreaker and baseball cap as well, and he moved swiftly to put his arms around Jones in a protective gesture. "You can be the one to ride along. Just keep showing people your passports until they eventually come up with someone who knows how to read. This shouldn't stick, and with any luck we'll have you two in a hotel tonight, planning how you're going to spend your enormous lawsuit payout."

Brand met Williams' sidelong glance with an approving nod.

"You on the other hand are going to take a little longer, Davies. Per usual." Williams spoke wryly - she smiled, though. "Nice job here. I thought you'd screw it all up, but this was elegant. You wedged yourself right into the teeth of it, so nobody even attempted to get out. I think it never occurred to them that you were quite this insane. To be honest, even I can't believe you risked this little punk's life-," Williams patted Jones' shoulder, "-to make sure that you busted every warm body. But when you're right you're right."

There was going to be a lot of explaining to do in the days to come, but Brand was incredibly relieved to hear that the bust had been a success - nobody had gotten away - and that even now folks were regarding their plans - their mistakes - and their haphazard, messy recovery as being in some measure intentional.

"I'm definitely going to need to hear how you got the guns emptied, too." Williams shook her head as she gave an impressed whistle. "That was some trick."

"It sure was." Brand found his voice then, as he caught Jones' eye across the room. "I don't get any credit for that one, though."

Jones grinned and tipped the brim of his FBI cap before settling his hands onto FP's arm where it was still wrapped around his chest. Brand gave him a small salute back.

"Really? You did something useful, intern?" Williams nodded her approval to Jones, and suddenly her smile was mischievous. "Well, good. It was about time."

00000

Score for Williams getting the last word in a chapter! (I didn't see that coming :-D) I hope you enjoyed and that you are having a wonderful weekend! I'll enjoy any and all notes as the story still. does. not. end. ;) Wrapping up the whole series miiight just be working out this way, and I hope it ends up feeling satisfying and not just belabored. You'll have to let me know, because I'm just having fun over here!

-Button