Here we go with another chapter! :) Thank you for continuing to read!

Skyrider45, thanks so much for the great review! Max is showing another side of himself, yes, and I'm very glad you liked having a little 'decompression' amidst the action. And yeah, the internet is conveniently speedy at spreading at least a version of events... :) Oh man, The Decameron as cell reading material was a detail I had in mind before the pandemic really began (it's so random which details come early on when writing a story!), and I actually seriously considered cutting it because it was so on the nose now. But I just couldn't. :) Oooh, I've been fascinated and very thoughtful as folks weighed in on Brand and what outcome would be the right one for him, all things considered. When he didn't die (that would have been so much easier!) I actually had to start figuring that out. Oops? I'll be interested to hear what you think as his arc resolves - at least in part. Also, you are so welcome for the chapter! I hope you enjoy this one also. :)

Living Lucid Dream, wow - best review ever! I have (obviously) been wrestling hard with Brand's character development the entire time, and when he survived Rose I found myself with all of your questions (and a few essays of my own!), and now... I have to commit to a course of action. This is not the easiest corner I've ever written myself into, but at the same time I can't imagine ever feeling satisfied (let alone done with the series!) if I didn't really face down some of the questions he's raised. I'm really interested in hearing what you think as we wrap up and get some closure on this part of Brand's arc! (It will never be total and complete closure, because I can't help it... there will always be room for a sequel [or seven] in my mind!) And... that's exactly one of the arcs I'm trying to resolve. Nothing about this is boring (yay!), but I was truly surprised that I actually managed to have this chapter ready to go this week. :-D I really hope you like it!

Enjoy!

-Button

00000

FP sighed and pressed himself a little more tightly into the arm of the worn faux leather couch that was located in the small room he'd been ushered into by the FBI to use as a de facto waiting room so that he would not be underfoot while they worked. It sounded like more Serpents were in the building for interviews, and FP didn't want anyone who might be walking down the hall to catch sight of him sitting there.

Things were already complicated enough without the Serpents saying something questionable to him in front of the FBI.

Then he heard a sharp bark. FP's mind went to Trigger first, but he knew that Clark had gone with Agent Quinn and Max back to the apartment they'd been staying in. They'd taken both Trigger and the puppy that Rose had given to Jughead.

This must be some other-

Oh.

"Roger?" FP greeted the dog leading his handler into the room to investigate. "Tim?"

"Hi FP." Tim looked exhausted. As he took in FP, who surely looked just as worn out, his features smoothed into a blank, professional expression that FP had never seen him use before. "So. Is there a little something that you neglected to tell me when I took on the job of deterring attacks on your life?"

"You came up to Toronto with Keller?" FP asked, in part to buy a few seconds to think through his answer.

"We did," Tim confirmed. "Roger's useful when someone's missing, so I often come along when there's a runaway child. And this time, even though we had a pretty good idea where Kevin was, I think Tom needed some moral support."

FP nodded, his expression twisting in sympathy for Tom Keller. By now FP had been told about Kevin taking off with Joaquin; that was another situation that he was currently avoiding. FP didn't want to make things worse for them, for himself, or - more importantly - for Jughead. Any additional screwy connections could serve to complicate the case.

"Are you okay?" Tim seemed to soften as he took in exactly how rough FP looked.

"I'm… All of this has thrown me for a loop." FP decided that was a fair way of saying it. "When you and Roger started working with me, I had no idea that any of this was going on. It's been one horrifying surprise after another." That was also the truth.

Tim seemed to want to believe him, too, because he simply nodded and then joined FP on the couch. "I figured. I couldn't see any of that being true of Jughead or Brand, either, and Clark's obviously having a rough time wrapping his head around all of it."

"You saw Clark?" This was news; FP suddenly craved an update on the intern, Max, and Agent Quinn. "What's he up to? How are Max and Sarah doing?"

"They're a little shorthanded around here," Tim patted Roger as he spoke, "so they needed me to run a few errands. I might be driving Max back stateside later today, too. They seemed fine to me, but everyone's shaken up and I think they're still braced for more to go wrong. You can ask Agent Quinn yourself."

Sarah Quinn walked into the room just in time to hear the last of Tim's words. "Ask me what?"

"Hi Sarah. I didn't know you were here; I was just wondering how you're doing," FP said.

"Huh. Did Tim tell you what he's spent the last half hour attempting?" Sarah radiated irritation as she ran a hand over her hair, but her agitation seemed heavily tempered by something like affection. "Because that explains most of my answer at the moment."

"Oh?" FP looked at Tim, who shrugged.

"I'm looking into becoming a foster parent. I learned a whole lot about teenagers and statistics today-,"

"Max gave him some sort of crazy pitch." Sarah gave FP a look as if she wanted him on her side of this discussion. "He invented a bunch of wild statistics about teenagers being abused in foster care, and now-,"

"The abuse statistics were invented, sure, but he wasn't wrong about the low adoption rates and the potential for poor outcomes," Tim interjected. "I know that he lied about quite a bit of what he told me, Sarah. I've been around the block a few times. That's not why I'm doing this."

FP looked down at Roger. "Yeah, well, no offense but it might have to do with the fact that you have a dog, Tim. Max seems to have set his heart on that after spending some time with Trigger."

"I realize that too." Tim nodded. "He also likes that I'm older. Max seems to gravitate toward people who are under thirty or over fifty-five."

Sarah looked startled by this declaration, but then thoughtful.

"I'm not sure why Max liking Rog is a negative, though," Tim continued. "If he wants to be adopted by Roger more than he wants to live with me, that's no problem; we're a package deal."

"Tim is far too nice," Sarah said, and it sounded like a complaint and not the compliment that most people intended when they used the phrase.

Which made sense. Max was not the kind of kid one took in impulsively - not if one valued their sanity and long-term survival.

"She's going to officially recommend against his being placed with me," Tim confided in FP without a trace of malice. "I'll most likely complete the process of becoming a foster parent while Max is in debriefing, and then with Agent Quinn's vote that Max be placed elsewhere, I'll have to wait until he either gets a good situation - or they get desperate enough to place him with me in spite of Sarah's reservations."

FP raised an eyebrow at Tim's plan, surprised by how mildly he expressed it. "And that's okay with you?"

"Either way, Max gets a home and I have a new avenue that I can use to help folks out." Tim nodded. "That's fine by me."

Sarah sighed, and her smile indicated that she was reluctantly impressed by Tim's attitude. "I guess we'll have to see how things go. Just please keep in mind that Max is a lot more complicated than he seems right now, while he's having his big adventure. Things are going to devolve quickly once he has to start facing some realities and living a more normal life."

"Or he'll be surprisingly resilient once he's got stability and some space and time to process things," Tim offered, and this time his tone had an uncharacteristic edge. "Let's not make this a self-fulfilling prophecy, huh? I really don't like that in social workers."

"Excuse me? I am not a-,"

"Max is complicated," FP interrupted when he saw Quinn's defensive expression and realized that they were about to get off track and likely into a useless discussion of levels of education and years of experience working with kids like Max. "But I agree that he might do okay with the right guardian. Just make sure that's what you are, Tim, and it should all work out. I already know you're good for the hard work."

Both Tim and Sarah regarded FP silently, and he realized with surprise that he'd just weighed in with a semi-retired police officer and an FBI specialist as if he knew as much as either of them on the subject.

And maybe he did.

FP shrugged. "Jughead was and is complicated. But it's not unworkable, even if you're starting from zero. Or whatever negative number I was at with Jug when he came home from debriefing."

Tim and Sarah remained silent, so FP elaborated,

"If I can do it - granted, with a whole lot of help - then anyone can. You just need a supportive community and some good friends to help keep things in perspective." FP paused and then smiled slightly. "And if you're not homeless, you're already way ahead of where I was."

"FP, you always sell yourself short," Fred Andrews said from the doorway to the room. "I'm not sure I could have done everything that you did."

"Fred!" FP stood to pull his friend into a hug. "Did you find DeSantos?"

"That's why I'm here; I came with Tom to drop him off. It was taking too long to get anyone over to the house to pick Joaquin up." Fred patted FP's back. "I also wanted to see you - and for better or worse I'm trusting the kids to sit tight at Alice Carter's place while I check in with you and Mary."

"They seemed fine." Tom Keller appeared in the doorway behind Fred. "They were planning to practice for their concert, and I assume they're at least a little nervous so that should keep them occupied. That's a huge venue they're playing."

"I sincerely hope you're right." Fred smiled, though, and was clearly not overly concerned. "So what happened? I've gotten bits and pieces of the story, and the teens gave me an incomprehensible version of events based on what they read online. Joaquin and Kevin didn't make a whole lot more sense."

"Where are they?" FP looked past Fred and Tom, but neither teen was visible.

"Meeting with Agent Williams and giving a full report." Tom made a face. "They have no idea what they've walked into the middle of. The FBI isn't sure what to make of it, but Joaquin had only partial information - nothing about the bust - and it's taking some convincing before they'll believe that he really just wanted to help you out with tamping down on organized crime in another country. Because that narrative is objectively difficult to believe."

FP's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, you didn't know that was his story?" Keller frowned. "Apparently Joaquin's claiming that he heard that Rose was retiring, and that there were good odds that Davies was undercover as a double agent and in line to take over - but that Davies was either planning to pull out or was going to be pushed out, leaving the Serpents in a bad position. Joaquin then decided that he was the man for the job, and that he would spare you the hassle of having to look into things. And Kevin tagged along without asking any of the salient questions."

FP's jaw had dropped while Keller explained, and now he was shaking his head in disbelief. "Where do they get this kind of initiative? I was never like that when I was their age."

Fred laughed. "Are you sure about that? This is part of what I mean about selling yourself short, FP. First of all, you were exactly like that when we were teenagers. Second, you seem to inspire that kind of initiative in everyone around you. I'm not surprised that Joaquin did something dramatic to try to get back into your good graces. I'm also not surprised that Archie's texting me constantly asking how you're doing, since I can't touch base with Jughead. People care, and you're good at bringing that out of them."

FP was still shaking his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing. "Tell Red that I'm fine. You can also let him know what's going on with Jug and Brandon. Make sure he knows that I'm sorry that we won't make it to his concert, too. I promise we won't keep anyone else - you, Mary, and everyone - from attending. We've taken a lot away from him over the past year, and a few hours isn't going to make or break the case."

"Sure. I'll let him know. Archie will appreciate hearing that, but I know he'd just rather everything was resolved for you, Brandon, and Jughead." Fred said, sliding his vibrating cell phone out of his pocket. "He's also been worried about Jug's health since you took off. That part was all made up, right?"

FP shook his head. "We punched up the story, and we haven't actually seen any specialists, but he did pass out and I'm still very concerned about it. We're using that to try and speed things up with the case, but it doesn't seem to be making a dent."

"Oh." Fred was disappointed to hear that Jughead's health issues had not been invented. "Well. I may leave that out for now when I text Archie an update."

"There's no sense in overwhelming everyone," FP agreed.

"Why don't you let me see your texts before you send any, and we can talk through what information is wise to share right now," Sarah Quinn said. She motioned for Fred to precede her out of the room. As they walked out together, FP heard Sarah continue: "How's Betty doing with all of this? She's in Toronto too, right?"

"Wait - Sarah?" FP called after the agent.

"Yes?" Sarah Quinn leaned back into the room.

"Can you look over some text messages for me next? I just realized that Jug's going to kill me if I don't check in with Betty pretty soon with a real update."

"Sure thing." Sarah smiled. "In fact, maybe we'll give her a call together."

"Great. Thanks." FP returned her smile gratefully. "If anything's going to cheer Jughead up when I finally get to talk to him later today, that's going to be it."

00000

"Focus. You're still making careless errors," Brand said. "Look at the third problem again, kid."

"I didn't - oh." Jones spotted the issue. "Yeah, okay. I'm a little distracted. That was still good, though, right?"

"With scores like this you'll get into a good state school at the very least." Brand nodded. "Try paying better attention to the next practice test."

A guard cleared his throat just outside of their cell.

"Oh, I guess that's it for right now. It looks like it's time for you to talk to your father," Brand gave Jones a smile that he didn't feel. "Be sure that you give him all of my love."

"Yeah. Sure, Brand." The kid grinned at his godfather as he stood up eagerly. "It sucks they won't let me actually see him, but he'll be happy to hear about the practice test."

"Um, yeah." Brand was pretty sure that FP would not be 'happy' about anything, but he didn't want to discourage Jones. "I'm pretty sure he had to make a special trip to buy you the book, so make sure he knows it was a good investment."

"You bet." Jones grinned again as the door to their cell swung open and he was escorted away.

Brand felt his stomach begin to hurt, but he didn't notice for a minute or two that he'd literally begun wringing his hands.

Man. He was really starting to lose it if he was this worried about FP's reaction to everything.

00000

"So we've got a platform. We could use it. I've always wanted to write a protest song, or at least some heavy metal rocker anthem," Gunnar enthused.

Betty had explained to the other teens what Agent Quinn and FP had told her over the phone.

Now, an hour later, she was wondering what exactly she'd unleashed.

"Gunnar, we're trying to figure out how we can help get Jughead out of jail. This isn't a songwriting session." Archie frowned.

"I know that. You don't think music is an incredibly powerful tool for exerting social and political pressure? Wow." Gunner leaned back in his chair. "Time for a history lesson, man."

Archie exchanged glances with Veronica. "What do you mean? I know music can do all that. But how could we help Jug with the concept album?"

"Or do you mean that we need to write a new song?" Veronica interjected. "Because a 'heavy metal rocker anthem' is not exactly our style."

"Everyone needs a diverse set list." Gunnar shrugged. "And you've got the strong female vocals we'd need in order to do something elegant if we went the metal route. We should focus on the Canadian national character; we'd literally sing an unsung hero."

"Only Jughead's not a Canadian hero." Veronica was only more confused.

"He's also not 'unsung' unless I seriously misunderstood the entire concept album. I'm talking about Davies. We write a heavy metal rocker about the injustice of throwing Davies in jail for protecting - oh, this is good -,"

Gunnar's expression became even more animated as he thought through the details.

"-for protecting an underage American, making the biggest bust in the history of Toronto, and for being the Canadian liaison that the FBI needed to shape them up. We need to start reading up and watching interviews; this song is going to write itself. He's a dual citizen, right?" Gunnar gestured widely with both arms, as if his imagined song lyrics were obvious to everyone in the room. "So we have some refrain about him being rejected by one of his motherlands or something, and how the Americans steal Canada's warriors with filthy lucre - or in this case by, you know, not throwing them in jail - and then-,"

"That is not going to make any sense," Veronica objected.

Betty silently agreed, shooting her a supportive look and a nod.

"Um... there are actually a lot of really big deal songs like that, Ronnie." Archie was frowning thoughtfully. "Some are controversial, or literally propaganda, but even that sort of negative buzz can give them more traction and-,"

"And radio play time." Gunnar was grinning as he triumphantly finished Archie's sentence. "I vote that we break it out at the end of the concert. We'll premiere it live and drop a clean recording online at the same time. Nobody can stop us until it's too late."

Veronica thought that 'too late' might well be the right phrasing. She folded her arms. "Exactly how elegant will my vocals be?"

Sweet Pea had been listening with a deeply skeptical expression, but when he heard that plan he laughed. "Seriously? You'd try that onstage? You have more guts than I gave you credit for. And you like metal?"

"I'm a drummer." Gunnar gave Sweet Pea a look. "What bands do you like?"

"The good stuff."

"Oh. you like the good stuff. Well, I was going to say that I only liked subpar metal, but now that you're saying-,"

Alice had been silent during the conversation, but she rolled her eyes and interrupted the guys' suddenly escalating exchange - and also seemed impressed by the plan. "Knock it off, you two. Archie, as consultant to the band, I am officially appalled… and intrigued. Can you actually write anything decent in such a short timeframe, though?"

"I think we can. Let me pull up some examples on my laptop." Gunnar was suddenly all business. "You're a natural, Veronica; your voice is really intense and you have amazing range. We should come up with something symbolic for costuming, just for that song, so Alice and Sweet Pea can work on that. Think black armbands, but obviously way more distinct than that."

"Cool." Archie seemed lost in thought and he started typing on his own laptop. "You know… a stunt like this could tank the entire concept album. But it's totally worth it if we can help get Jug out."

"Well… think of it this way: we're setting the album on fire. That's either very good or very bad," Gunnar conceded the point. "But you're an artist, Archie. This is how it works."

Betty simply stared at all of them.

When she found her voice, Betty was surprised to hear herself offer a contribution of her own: "I might be able to help. I've been working on an article and I have access to some footage. If you're trying to burn something down, I think this could do it."

This was a terrible idea, Betty thought even as she spoke.

"Rock on." Gunnar grinned at Betty.

Which did not reassure her one bit.

But then Betty thought of Jughead sitting in jail, and maybe even facing time in prison. "I'll start working on it right now."

00000

Brand was fully braced for an earful as he picked up the phone and waited for the video call to connect.

"That is one high-tech jail you landed yourself in. I cannot believe they won't let me in to see you two," FP started talking as soon as the call was live.

Which was smart. This call was probably expensive, and it wouldn't last long.

"Jones won't shut up about it either. But it saves the jail a lot of hassle and money, I guess. Did he seem okay to you? I think he's all right, but at this point I'm not sure I'd be able to tell if anything was wrong."

"I know. Being locked up makes everything weird. Jug's fine from what I saw, though; he's decided he's at freaking summer camp, thanks to you." FP paused for a moment and smiled to himself before he continued. "Nice work, Brandon. I don't think I could have done what you've managed. How are you doing?"

Brand blinked in response to the unexpected question. "Uh, I'm good. A little twitchy, but you'd know all about that."

"Oh yeah; I did my share of twitching. Hang in there. We're working hard, but they keep trying to throw deals at us for Jughead and not both of you. Mary's given them quite the earful over the latest one, so we should start seeing progress now."

FP frowned with concern. "Everyone in there knows that you're a fed. Are you getting hassled? Should I send anything in particular to give you a little leverage?"

Brand blinked again. And kept blinking. Being in jail must be mucking with his limbic system or something.

FP let out a bark of surprised laughter. "Wait, did you actually think that we were going to leave you in there? Take a deal for Jughead and run? He-ey. Come to think of it, this could be my big chance-,"

"Look, I'm sorry, FP." Brand cut him off. "I know Jones shouldn't be in here, and I'm a whole different story. But-"

"Hang on - Brandon, stop. That's not something we're even considering. Take a deep breath." FP's tone lost all traces of humor and he suddenly looked very concerned. "Jughead will survive a few days in jail, especially now that he's bunking in with you. He and I talked it over. Not only is keeping your cases fully interlocked the best legal strategy according to Mary Andrews, but Jug wouldn't hear of taking a deal unless it was for both of you."

FP seemed to be watching closely for Brand's reaction now.

This level of concern for his wellbeing was about to overwhelm Brand all over again.

"Jughead said he had a bad nightmare before he was moved in with you," FP continued when Brand did not say anything. "We're keeping track of stuff like that; it's going to give Mary more fuel for getting your cases prioritized and dismissed quickly. It's starting to look like a game of hot potato as people realize what a minefield they've stumbled into by locking Jughead up with the big boys. He's unbelievably proud that he's helping." FP smirked.

"So Brandon, your job is simple: keep your mouth shut and let the lawyers do the talking for you. And keep doing what you're doing, acting as cruise director for Jug. Although I'd appreciate it if you didn't strong arm me into buying any more books that I already told him no about."

Brand still wasn't sure he'd entirely absorbed what he was being told, but he had an answer for that, at least: "His scores are up on the latest practice test."

FP looked startled for a moment, and then he laughed heartily. "Trust you two to be keeping score… Okay; thanks, Brandon. You keep his studies on track and we'll get you out. Mary says it's not even a matter of proving the evidence and accusations are fabricated so much as it's a matter of speeding things up to their obvious conclusion. As long as you two can stay sane in there, it's a waiting game that we can win. No question."

"That sounds… Thanks, FP. And I'll, uh, plan to leave Riverdale this week," Brand said, avoiding eye contact. "I'll send birthday cards and call to cook together or whatnot; whatever you think is best. I'd also really like to take the kid rock climbing sometime before he heads to college, if you'd consider letting me do that." Brand figured he'd better get that on the table while he had the chance. "But I get it; it's time… I'll get out of the way and I'll stay there this time."

FP seemed stunned into silence. He gestured broadly in mute frustration before he found the words he was looking for. "Hey. What is wrong with you? We have had this conversation before; don't you dare punish Jughead to salve your ego, Brandon."

"Wait… hang on, what?" Brand had expected an offer of help with his packing, to hurry him on his way.

"You are in the process of losing a whole lot of face. I am well aware of that." FP scrutinized Brand through the video, and seemed to be actively weighing whether or not to start yelling at the younger man. "You're going to spend the rest of your life owing a lot of people for stepping up to help you and, knowing the way you think, I bet it would be easier for you to do the time in prison and then reenter society on your own stubborn terms. But hear me on this: you need to man up."

FP regarded Brand intently as he continued. "And so help me, you had better not even consider disappearing on Jug. You owe a debt to certain members of society, Brandon, but the way I see it - and the way a few other people see it -, spending time in prison doesn't really do anything meaningful to pay that debt. Leaving Riverdale and starting over does even less, and only protects your ego from facing the people who are going to look at you differently from now on. Sarah Quinn, just for instance."

Brand frowned, but had no response. He felt caught entirely flat-footed by this turn in the conversation, and his stomach was churning painfully yet again.

"Now, SAC Wilson asked me if I'd be willing to help out, just hypothetically," FP continued, "if there was someone - a person recently made unemployed - who was brought on by the FBI as a full-time, very low-paid technical advisor for a period of time. Maybe for months, or even a year or more, depending on how things go."

Brand nodded, still wondering where FP was going with this. The arrangement with the FBI sounded familiar; he and Wilson had not gotten into a lot of detail, but several hypotheticals had been raised when they'd talked before he, FP, and Jughead had left together for Toronto.

This was the least pleasant option, and a close relative to the one typically in play when convicted felons made a deal in lieu of spending time in prison.

Which was understandable, and even downright generous, given the quality and quantity of information that Rose had just dumped into Wilson's lap. Brand could have no complaints, even though he had a feeling that Jones would be outearning him at the RA in the very near future.

FP continued. "It sounded like the person would have no savings or assets to speak of after having made a few 'charitable donations,' whatever that means-,"

Brand did not comment, and he tried to avoid reacting, but he instantly recalled one of the stranger lines of questioning from Wilson about Brand's plans to buy a house in Riverdale. She'd asked pointedly about his townhome in Toronto, his plans for purchasing a house locally with cash, and then she'd inquired about FP's mortgage. The whole thing had reeked of judgment at the time.

And, to be fair, 'charitable donation' was one way of putting it if she did expect Brand to anonymously turn over his assets to the Joneses, and perhaps to a few other affected parties as well; straight up 'restitution' was another phrase for it, Brand supposed. And, in a weird way, the idea of his assets - his ill-gotten gains - being given away made him feel slightly less guilty about the whole situation.

Where that would leave him, though, Brand did not know. Finding gainful employment to keep himself afloat was about to get dicey.

"-and they'd have to sign away their rights to work in quite a number of industries for that period of time, so don't get any ideas. My 'connections' at Andrews Construction also came up, since Fred always needs people for weekend shifts." FP cocked his head noncommittally.

Aha. That would work for employment, particularly if he put in long hours on the weekends. Brand relaxed slightly; he could live with that.

FP continued, responding to Brand's relieved facial expression: "Hold on, though. I'm not entirely sure about that last part, because the FBI isn't the only one with a claim. Jug hasn't got a lot of time before he goes away to college, and until then I think that bringing in cash on the weekends might be secondary to some other things this person might do to 'repay society.'"

Brand was back to blinking as he suddenly got a clearer glimpse of the picture that FP was sketching out for him. "You mean you'd actually consider letting me stay with you? After all of this?"

"I think an apartment is a wiser idea, and you'll probably need a roommate to make ends meet until you get clear of the probationary period and are allowed to earn a meaningful paycheck again." FP regarded Brand seriously. "But yes, until you're able to manage a place of your own, I'd be willing to let you keep your room. Of course we'll renegotiate what that will look like this time around. For instance, I hear that you're already on the hook for some chores since you lost a bet with Jughead." FP smirked.

Seconds passed in heavy silence as Brand fought back an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"So, uh, how's Clark doing?" Even with the breather, Brand was feeling unsteady under the weight of his relief, and the subject change should be entertaining at the very least.

"Clark? You'll like this. He's working with Agent Quinn and begging to be sent undercover to your jail as a plant to gather intel." FP smiled when Brand facepalmed. "He misses you two and he's worried about Jughead. He wants to know what other books and supplies you two would like, by the way. I think he'll feel better if he can send you a care package."

"That's easy: snacks for Jones. He's eating half of my food along with all of his own and still looking hungry." Brand shook his head in consternation. "1800 calories, my foot."

FP nodded. "Oh, I remember vividly. We'll get you a box of protein bars and whatever else is calorie dense and packs well. Do you have any use for something you can trade easily? Cigarettes are out, but I can look into what passes for currency these days."

"Sure, but they've got the kid gloves on, so don't go overboard. We may not have any need for that kind of thing if they keep us quarantined like they have so far."

"That's what Jughead said." FP nodded once.

"Checking up on his story?" Brand felt a slight smirk tug at his features, in spite of himself.

"Of course I am. He's acting like… Archie Andrews." FP shook his head.

"Well-adjusted?"

"Maybe." FP seemed to consider that. "Except you're not supposed to be that well-adjusted in jail. That's kind of the point."

"Jones is a contrarian to the last. At least it's finally working for us and not against us." Brand's smile was sincere this time.

"Well. Let's not bankrupt the legal fund on chatting," FP began to wrap up the conversation. "Go make sure he's studying and not just reading for pleasure."

Brand nodded. "Sure thing, FP. And… thanks. I'd be embarrassed over my lack of faith in you all, but that would be no more than what I deserve, so-,"

"You're family. End of story." FP cut Brand off firmly. "I mean, don't be naive; other people will certainly rub your nose in this for the rest of your life. But you should know right now that I won't. Forgiveness means something to me."

Brand figured that was true. FP would know more about forgiveness than most people.

"Now… keep your head down and try to have some of the fun that Jughead's somehow managing to have in there." FP gave Brand a teasing look as he lightened the tenor of the conversation.

"You bet." Brand managed another sincere - grateful - smile as he ended the call.

The smile lingered as Brand approached the cell he was sharing with the kid. That is, right up until a major sign that things had changed wiped it off of his face: there was a mattress on the floor of the cell.

Brand's mind went to Clark's offer to go undercover in the jail. It could be that he and Jones hadn't been chatty enough for whatever surveillance the authorities had set up in their cell.

And so they'd planted a snitch to move things along.

Well, Brand was pretty sure that the kid was well trained enough not to let anything slip. This was embarrassingly obvious, and probably a gesture that bespoke desperation on the part of the prosecution.

It might even be a good sign.

"Hey. We've got company?" Brand waited while the cell door was opened for him. Jones was up on his bunk, tucked self-protectively away from the newcomer. Good; he definitely hadn't gotten chatty if he was spooked.

"Oh, yeah. The gang's all here." Roy looked up from his mattress.

Ohhh, crap.

00000

We're almost there, but... loose ends, right? :-D Your notes will be particularly cherished, because I do think next chapter miiiight be our last one. :) We shall see!

Thanks for reading! I hope you're having a lovely weekend!

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