Oh man, you know that feeling when you have the end in sight, and you think "hey, it will be a long chapter, but I feel like it's all going to fall into place"? The feeling that is usually followed by... disaster? Yeah, health news was complicated yet again (and after docs reassuring me that stuff was SO unlikely and then it coming up snake eyes, I'm feeling very Han Solo right now: "Never tell me the odds!"), so I made the executive decision to post a short chapter this week and then regroup and take a little more time on finishing things off. Life is never as boring as it could be, and this time that is an unfortunate truth instead of an exhilarating one. But it's probably all curable, and recovery (for real this time?) can begin again in just a few weeks. And, though I hear the siren song of the sequel increasing in volume because writing is my favorite form of stress relief when health issues arise (ruh-roh), I have every intention of having this story finished and a true writing hiatus in full swing before going anywhere near an OR. (here's hoping that life cooperates!)
Living Lucid Dream, thank you so much for the encouraging review! Tim is an increasingly rich character, I agree, and I'm interested to see where both he and Max end up by the end! I have loved writing FP so much, too (I think that's obvious by now!), including his laying down some law with Brand as they reach what may actually (finally!) be a long-term equilibrium. I'm also excited about the concert; I love live music a great deal, and it's so satisfying to write something where I think the characters would have a blast IRL - even if law enforcement and parents are more likely to have minor heart attacks. And yay for finally resolving Roy's arc, even if this is a bait-and-switch non-last chapter after all!
Skyrider45, thank you so much for the amazing compliment about the growth of support networks and that theme over course of the stories. I've been sort of fighting back (I promise!) against an overgrowth of OCs as I fall in love with one after another, and weaving them in logically and meaningfully has been my goal. It means the world to me that it's coming through the way I'd hoped, and that the characters contribute more than just mechanisms for 'the next plot point' or whatnot. I also love, love, love your enthusiasm for the concert! I know that the music plots have been a bit controversial in how they are integrated into the show itself, and I have had my fingers crossed that the subplot would weave in organically - and so your enthusiasm makes me so happy! I have sadly not been to a rock concert in a while, but this is making me long for normalcy to return so that I can get one on the calendar... :-D I'll love hearing your thoughts about this chapter, even though it's briefer and we're not at the promised conclusion just yet!
Welcome back, Guest! You slid in your review right before I posted this chapter, so I'm thrilled to include a very happy shout-out to you: I'm so glad you're continuing to read along and enjoy the story so much! :-D
Enjoy!
-Button
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"This cannot be a good idea." Alice was grinning, though, so Sweet Pea figured she didn't really mean it.
"That's what makes it perfect," Sweet Pea replied. He returned her grin, with interest. "Adding another bad idea fits. It makes sense. I mean, to be fair, it's even part of the reason Davies is here."
They had just accepted a special delivery of Serpents jackets for the concert's surprise song from a man named Banjo - who had insisted on being compensated with as many tickets to the concert as the band could get their hands on.
Apparently having the Serpents jackets featured in a major concert venue was something that a whole lot of bikers wanted to see in person.
"So we're definitely not telling anyone in the band about this until the last possible moment, am I right?" Alice ran her hand over the stitched leather of one of the jackets.
"Uh, yeah. Unless you really want to have this out with Gunnar ahead of time." Sweet Pea widened his eyes and shook his head. "Because I am definitely not having that conversation if I can avoid it."
"I'm just making sure we're on the same page." Alice nodded. "But yeah. It should work; it's definitely a statement."
"I hope FP doesn't mind." Sweet Pea bit his lip as it occurred to him for the first time that the Serpent King might have some strong feelings about the commercial use of his gang's symbol.
"Ha. You are kidding, right? He's so totally gonna flip out." Alice's grin widened with anticipation. "I cannot wait to see his face."
"Gre-eat," Sweet Pea groaned. "Don't say that so cheerfully; that would mean I'm dead meat. And you really need to stop messing with FP. He's cool."
"Um, okay. But if he's half as cool as you always claim, then he should be able to take the heat." Alice raised an eyebrow.
"You are nothing but trouble, Alice Carter," Sweet Pea declared, but his tone was warm. "And I wasn't saying that he couldn't take it. I do, however, think that you might be taking on more with him than you realize."
"Whatever, Sweet Pea. I'll believe that when I see it." Alice was completely unconcerned. "So what else should they wear for this song? Do they have a full set of lyrics yet that we can see, for inspiration? I can probably whip something up if they donate some clothing to the cause. I've even got a sewing machine here."
"I can go ask." Sweet Pea turned toward the room where the band had holed up together to write the song, but then he turned back to face Alice again. "You might check on Betty. Make sure that she actually has the footage, and that she isn't doing anything lame with it. And get all the faces blurred except for Jughead and Davies; they're all over the news, so they can't say too much about it, but nobody else has signed off on this."
"Good call." Alice stroked the jacket once more. "This is really getting exciting, huh?"
Sweet Pea hesitated. He folded his arms and cocked his head to one side while giving Alice a more searching look than her question seemed to warrant before he replied. "Maybe. We'll see how it goes."
Alice gave him a questioning look in response to his strange body language, but Sweet Pea turned away and headed to check with the band.
Alice shrugged it off as she went in search of Betty. Sweet Pea had his moods; it was not her job to figure them out.
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Jughead didn't want to leave his bunk, but Roy was goading Brand and it was starting to seem like it might be safest if Jughead swapped bunks with Brand and acted as a buffer.
Because Brand was way, way off of his game for some reason.
Nothing bad had happened yet, but tensions were high and the situation was only getting worse. Jughead was even starting to have visions of them reenacting the training from the townhome basement, right here in the cell, and someone getting seriously injured in the tight quarters.
Or just into huge trouble that got him and Brand separated again.
"Punching that meal ticket one more time, huh?" Roy was saying to Brand. "You've really raised this to an art form. Scheherezade's paid out so much more than I ever predicted."
It sounded like code. Brand was reacting like it was code.
"Shut up, Roy." It was about as ineloquent a response as it could be, but Jughead figured it served his purpose of interrupting, and also of letting Roy know that he was on Brand's side of the conflict - whatever that entailed. "Just because you never managed to figure out that Brand was undercover-,"
"I hope the kid doesn't have enough brain damage to actually believe any of that was real. Or else maybe I owe you a whole lot more on that bet." Roy cackled, addressing Brand again. "But then, I guess you got his dog back, and if you can't buy love you might still be able to buy loyalty."
Jughead froze. "What bet? And what do you know about Trigger? Have you been spying on us?"
"Who has the time?" Roy was disdainful. "You know, most people have to work for a living. Most people can't hitch their wagon to a walking disaster and have it magically land them on the front page of every newspaper and parachute them into a cushy job." Roy's tone became even more sarcastic as he spoke. "So Brand never told you about his bet? A cool four grand that he'd be able to convince you in Riverdale that he was a devoted guardian?"
Brand still seemed to be working on a response, though he looked angrier and more stressed by the moment.
And, even though this was distracting information about events in Riverdale when they'd been living in the trailer - and the amount was exactly what Brand had forked over earlier in the year when they'd discussed his being paid to hold Jughead hostage -, Jughead was suddenly inspired. There might be a way to protect Brand and take down Roy if he was clever about it. And very lucky.
Roy had never seemed like the brightest guy; Jughead hoped that his read was correct, and that it was still the case.
Jughead slid to the edge of his bunk so that he could see Roy's expressions more clearly, and he chose his words carefully: "You did, didn't you? You spied on us. Well, I hope you were nothing but embarrassed by how well Brand fooled you."
"Me? Embarrassed? What about the ways he fooled you?" Roy was clearly incensed that Jughead was pushing back. Apparently Brand was not the only one in the cell who was susceptible to goading.
Jughead was suddenly pulled off balance when Brand yanked on his dangling left leg in an obvious attempt to get him to shut up and stop antagonizing their cellmate. Jughead ignored him.
"That FBI agent came to me." Roy raised his voice still further. "You, on the other hand, kept running back to this guy even when every day involved a new discussion of whether or not to shoot you and dump your body. How's that for being a loving 'godfather,' eh?"
Jughead frowned when he felt Brand's hand abruptly drop from his leg as if he'd been scalded by Roy's words.
"Leave Jones alone. None of what you're upset about is because of him, so leave him out of it," Brand finally addressed his former partner. He seemed not to know what to say after that, and Jughead took the opportunity to kick him in the shoulder, hard, hoping that would keep him from saying more. Brand leaned forward to look up at him. "Seriously, kid?"
Jughead shook his head at Brand, hoping that would be enough to signal him to butt out of the conversation.
"Brand was never going to kill me, you idiot. He was just stringing you along for the case." Jughead made his voice smug; that should irritate Roy. Then he tried a gamble: "So was the FBI agent."
Roy laughed loudly. "Oh, really? How exactly does that little narrative fit with the fact that I'm the one who tipped Brand off about your dog? Or the fact that Brand let that insane FBI agent come within spitting distance of carting away your lifeless body? Or maybe you mean when that same FBI agent was shot in cold blood? Huh?"
Whoa.
That was a lot more pay dirt than Jughead had expected; everything to do with the drugging had been kept quiet in the press, and the case against Bryn Carter had kept the details under wraps for legal reasons - even from Alice, as Jughead had later discovered. And the shooting, since it had been an FBI agent taking down his own partner, was about as classified as it got.
If he was in their cell as a narc, then Roy had arranged for some sort of immunity for his crimes. But Jughead was pretty sure there was no way that Roy could have negotiated immunity for any sort of involvement in the death of Agent Russell.
To be certain that he was not interrupted a second time, Jughead kicked Brand in the shoulder again - this time hard enough to leave a bruise.
And, sure enough, Brand slid out of reach on the lower bunk and stopped trying to interfere with the argument. He was obviously disturbed by the altercation, but at this point Brand seemed darkly resigned to it running its course. And Jughead was admittedly shocked to hear that Brand had had contact with Roy about Trigger's disappearance.
But for now Jughead needed to focus: there were bigger fish to fry.
"Seriously, Brand? You knew?" Jughead decided to change tacks now that he was pretty sure Brand had gotten the message not to say anything else.
"Oh, that's nothing compared to-," Roy must have realized that he'd wandered into dangerous territory because he stopped mid-sentence and his eyes narrowed. "Do you really want to know the score on old Brand here?"
"Sure. Let's hear 'the score,'" Jughead said, allowing his tone to become sarcastic again. "Brand committed to his role one hundred percent and did whatever he needed to do to keep me alive in Riverdale, in Toronto, and then after that when I'd gone home to my dad. But please, enlighten me."
That must have been a little too much, because Roy finally seemed to catch on. "Hey. Are you trying to set me up?"
Jughead was disappointed that he hadn't gotten Roy to spill more, but he dove right in and pressed his advantage: "You were a sucker in Riverdale and you're a sucker now."
"I'm telling you, kid, he was planning to off you in Toronto the first chance he got. We talked about it constantly, and only your lucky stars kept it from happening."
"Ohhh, Scheherezade. Now I get it." Jughead winced as the allusion clicked for him. "So, what, you were trying to convince Brand to kill me, and he still didn't? Great argument, Roy."
That was when Brand perked up and began leaning forward from his bunk with renewed interest in the outcome of the exchange.
"What drugs did you pump into this kid, Brand?" Roy suddenly turned vicious. "Did you know about that, Jones?"
"Obviously we had to make it seem real," Jughead retorted. "Did you know that Brand checked all of my drug allergies and kept my medical records handy the entire time?"
Brand's hand whipped back up to grab Jughead's ankle again. Okay; maybe he'd better not overdo it on sharing details.
"Only because a dead hostage isn't worth a whole lot." Roy stood up from his mattress and approached the bed. "What about when he invited me over to beat you black and blue? Still no red flags?"
"Oh, yeah. Because training a hostage to successfully fight off two attackers at a time makes so much sense." Jughead rolled his eyes as obnoxiously as he could.
"You were nothing but his big gamble for making it in Toronto," Roy bit out angrily. "Don't kid yourself - that was never about equipping you to protect yourself. Brand only wanted you to be his secret weapon."
"If that was his goal, then great. Mission accomplished." Jughead folded his arms and glared down at Roy. "So, tell me. Where exactly were you when everything went down in Michigan? Were you somewhere nearby so you could watch, or did you stay out of the way to avoid being implicated?"
"What are you talking abou-," Roy's eyes had gone wide with panic.
"Aha - so this isn't part of your snitch immunity deal; that's what I figured. And yet somehow you know that I was drugged, and that was never made public. Were you there when Agent Russell was shot, too? You said yourself that you tipped Brand off about Trigger, and that means you had insider information. So... where were you that week?" Jughead smirked confidently. "You do have an airtight alibi, don't you? You wouldn't have tipped your hand on all of this without one, right?"
Roy began to sputter.
Jughead laughed. "Man, this is going to be so much fun to watch play out when the prosecution realizes that their own plant incriminated himself right here in jail - maybe even on camera."
When Roy moved toward Jughead's bunk, cursing and threatening, Brand was up and between them in a heartbeat.
"Go ahead and take a swing, Roy." Brand glared levelly at his former associate, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Hit me and let's see how this ends, once and for all."
"You sold your soul for this. You have to have sold your soul. I said it before." Roy didn't back down, but he didn't make another move either. "Eventually this is all going to catch up to you, Brand, and when the chips are called in I just hope I get to see it."
"It's already caught up with him, Roy," Jughead interjected, and this time his smug tone was not feigned. "Brand is officially stuck with me, my dad, and everyone in Riverdale. He brought it on himself, and he's not getting out of those commitments anytime soon."
Brand shrugged agreeably, giving Roy a mock longsuffering look. "The kid's right. It's my cross to bear."
Guards appeared outside of their cell.
"Subtlety is not the strong suit of the prosecution, I take it?" Brand asked the guards as they opened the door and escorted Roy out of the cell. "I hope they have a blast sorting all of that out. Idiots."
"You can tell them to feel free to send us more criminals so that we can solve more crimes," Jughead called after them with a laugh.
Brand tapped the bottom of Jughead's shoe. "What are you saying? Never offer to work for free."
Jughead reached down to offer Brand a high five.
"Oh my God, kid. This is in no way a high five moment." Brand batted his hand away. "However, the fact that you think it is had better serve as proof positive to anyone watching us that you are underage. Honestly. I take it your dad told you about Clark's ridiculous plan to infiltrate the jail and you put that together with Roy showing up?"
Jughead grinned and reached to tousle Brand's hair. "You're just jealous that I made the bust this time. I was a full-on armchair detective."
"Shut up." Brand grabbed Jughead's hand, disentangled it from his hair, and gave it a quick slap. "There. You got your high five. Now stop gloating."
"Never. That may have been my finest hour." Jughead slid backwards to the center of his bunk and then stretched out luxuriously on the mattress. "The FBI's going to want to give me a raise. And an office."
Brand sighed, but before he returned to his bunk he reached over to ruffle Jughead's hair, both in retaliation and affection. "Maybe so, kid. Gloating is a terrible habit, but that wasn't actually half bad. It was maybe even a little impressive."
Jughead grinned again. "I know. After all, I learned from the best."
Brand settled onto his bunk before Jughead spoke again, more seriously: "And, just for the record, we are definitely talking about this later."
Yeah. Brand figured he'd better prepare to attend some of those therapy appointments with the kid, too. "I know. But for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure there isn't anything more waiting to come out of the woodwork."
"Not unless you were getting up really early in the morning," Jughead said wryly.
Brand knocked a fist against the bottom of Jughead's bunk. "Even I don't have an unlimited capacity for screwing things up."
When Jughead laughed, Brand shook his head in amazement. Apparently they were just going to keep weathering disaster after disaster. There might actually be an end in sight for what had previously seemed to be a bottomless pit of deception.
"Thanks, kid." It bore saying out loud.
"Thanks for not killing me and dumping my body," Jughead replied, a smirk audible in his voice.
"It was the least I could do." Brand smirked as well.
"Hand me my SAT book?" Jughead reached down expectantly. "Dad's annoyed that he had to buy it, so I have to make good or we'll both be in trouble."
Brand shook his head in amazement a second time. "You got it. Or... you know, you can take a break from studying."
"The SATs wait for no man," Jughead intoned. "And seriously, Dad wants to see some good scores."
"Okay." Brand decided not to call attention to the fact that the kid should be a lot more thrown by what had just occurred. If he was feeling no pain, so much the better. "Let me know if you want any help."
"Will do." Jughead fell silent as he resumed studying.
Brand was silent as well, lost in thoughtful reflection.
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"We've got a pretty full van, but there's room for at least one more," Fred told Mary. "You're sure that you can safely get away for the concert?"
"I'm not missing it," Mary Andrews said fervently. "Archie's put up with so much and accomplished so many things this year, and it's been... I've hated being so far away for so much of it."
Fred regarded her silently for a few long moments. "We've hated having you far away too. Some of the best silver linings from this past year have been a direct result of your being around."
"I have my uses as a lawyer," Mary laughed lightly, avoiding eye contact, "and I was happy to help out. It looks like FP has finally found his feet, and it's almost a form of closure to get to be a small part of that after seeing him and Jughead founder for so many years."
"Actually... I mean that it's been nice that it was you who helped out," Fred said quietly. He moved slowly but confidently into Mary's personal space and tipped his head so that he could force eye contact.
When Mary looked up to meet his eyes, there was a small, nervous smile playing over her face.
"Will you go to the concert with me, Mary?" Fred repeated the invitation, this time with a slight teasing lilt in his voice.
"Yes. I think I will go with you, Fred Andrews." Mary's smile broadened, though her expression did not lose its nervous tinge.
"Good enough." Fred nodded and took a step back to a more comfortable distance and he gazed at Mary again. "That's... good enough for now."
"Okay," Mary said quietly. "Then I'll meet you at the van when it's time to go."
"It's a date." Fred made his tone light as he turned to leave her alone to work. He exhaled slowly as he exited the room, and a slow, hopeful grin spread across his face as he made his way down the hallway to check in with the other folks who had asked about attending the concert.
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"So they're out for Brandon's blood?" FP was amused by the report he was being given of the prosecution's dismal failure with the plant they'd attempted to use in Jughead and Davies' cell.
"Not at all. I hear that the take-down was all Forsythe - I mean, Jughead - and it was very impressively done," SAC Wilson said. "The prosecution is trying to claim that suggests maturity, and thus age, but if that isn't the weakest possible argument-,"
"No kidding? Jug's the one who handed their guy his butt?" FP grinned. "I've been trying to teach him not to put up with abuse. I can't take much credit for his brains or his character, but... I don't know. It's real nice to hear that he fought back."
"Oh, the plant is facing criminal prosecution. Jughead didn't just fight back; he destroyed the guy. Whatever he'd admitted to and wanted immunity for in exchange for trying to trap Davies, Jughead did him one better. He uncovered something the plant hadn't planned to share." SAC Wilson's smile widened. "And apparently, if the guards are to be believed, your son's parting shot was that they should try the ploy again so that he could do more detective work."
FP leaned back on the couch with a deeply satisfied expression. "That's my boy."
"We have a lot of traction now, and I feel pretty safe in saying that if we don't have results tomorrow, it will be no later than the following day." Wilson stood up and stretched wearily. "So we can all go home soon."
"That sounds great," FP replied. "Are you in on the carpool they're setting up for the concert? I'm not willing to venture that far from the jail, but I think most everyone else is planning to see Red perform tonight with his band."
"I've been asked," Wilson gave FP a wryly amused look, "but no; I won't be crashing that party. Do you want some company? I'll buy dinner."
"I won't say no to that."
"Great. You can tell me more about Jughead. I'd like to hear about his college plans, and maybe we can discuss some of what I've been thinking about for your role over the next several months."
"You're not ready to get rid of me just yet, then?" This was news to FP, but he found that he was not surprised. Wilson had consistently acted as though this was the inevitable outcome of his probationary period.
"Not just yet." Wilson tipped her chin up in a gesture of acknowledgement. "Keep up the good work and we'll have no choice but to keep paying you."
"I can live with that." FP smiled, and then he chuckled as he reflected once again on the events of the day. "Jughead must be in rare form. Doesn't that just take the cake."
"It really does," Wilson agreed. "He is something else. You must be very proud."
FP nodded. "Unbelievably. He's better than I ever deserved. The FBI had better appreciate that I'm willing to share him."
"Oh, we do." Wilson smiled again, and the warm expression lingered as she studied FP. He caught the look and ran a hand self-consciously over his growing beard; shaving had not been a priority for a few days.
"So. What do you want for dinner?" Wilson pulled out her phone. "You can go wild; I'm not planning to expense it, so there won't be any government oversight of what we order."
"I'm sober," FP reminded her. "That's all the oversight's really looking for, isn't it?"
"They're also looking for flagrantly decadent meals." Aaditi Wilson raised her eyebrows significantly. "I hear that Claudio Aprile's doing good work at his new restaurant."
"Never heard of him." FP frowned. "Is he the type to do takeout?"
"Nope. But we'll swing it." Wilson looked down as she began typing on her phone. "I can arrange for a courier to pick it up. You've earned it."
"No I haven't. But I'll take it." FP's expression was increasingly curious as he watched Wilson making arrangements for what promised to be quite the noteworthy meal. "Thanks."
"Thank you for giving me the pleasure of your company." Aaditi smiled up from her phone. Once again her gaze lingered before she resumed typing.
FP's expression was still bemused as he stroked his beard again - only this time the gesture was a whole lot less self-conscious.
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Thank you not only for reading, but also for your patience. I've really got to stop making predictions, since without a prediction I can't fail at meeting a goal, right? :-D (good logic for the win!)
I'll greatly enjoy hearing your thoughts on this brief chapter, and even if it takes a little longer than anticipated, I'm really, really looking forward to rounding off the series with an actual conclusion. :) (okay, truer statement - there is no guarantee that I won't crack and return after a few months' hiatus with a further adventure, since I have proven myself sorely limited on self-control and I might just need a Word document to get me through the next round of health stuff, but there will be no reopening of these finally-capped cans of worms!)
I hope you're having a lovely weekend!
-Button