Welcome to this week's installment of Gaslight. Thank you for the kind reviews, kudos, faves and follows.
My favourite takeaway from last week was, "If FP is scared, then I'm scared." I couldn't agree more! The next two chapters will unfold the truth about Jason's death and the fall-out for Bughead, Varchie, Polly, Cheryl and FP.
This week's song is a fave of mine for writing scenes where everything goes to hell - I recommend the Soho cover, but the original by icicle Works is classic.
Song: Whisper to a Scream - Soho
Disclosure: So Riverdale is not mine, nor is any dialogue borrowed for context. I do own my own "remix" of the existing canon. So broke, don't sue, thank you.
Twenty-Two: Whisper to a Scream
"We are, we are, we are, we're just children
Finding our way around indecision
We are, we are, we are ever helpless
Take us forever, a whisper to a scream…"
Whisper to a Scream – Soho
Shallow hole. Shallow grave, Jughead mused, for the secrets of the dead.
"Is that…"
"Yeah," Archie confirmed, poking it with his sneaker. "Looks like Jason's varsity jacket."
They'd followed the GPS coordinates to the unmarked road off of route 40, where a battered sign for the Blossom Maple Farms once stood. Now, the charred remains of wood were the only proof of its existence. The four of them had split up, taking each cardinal direction and pursuing an unknown item known only as Plan B. It had been Betty who'd found it, nestled beneath a nearby maple tree: a cluster of stones and an unusually large pile of leaves for land that was no longer maintained. Brushing it aside, she'd found the freshly disturbed dirt and beckoned her friends to her side.
Three inches beneath the surface, they'd unearthed it: a cheaply made, navy blue duffel bag. Inside it, the familiar blue and gold of their school colours.
"Well, add torching Jason's getaway car to my father's list of confirmed crimes," Jughead spat, shaking his head.
"I'm so sorry, Jughead." Betty's hand reached for his, squeezing it tightly. "But maybe he did it with good reason."
"There is no good reason," he countered. "But why would Jason's jacket be leverage for protection? This is just more incriminating evidence."
"DNA?" Veronica suggested.
Archie frowned. "Yeah, but how much of that is intact after it being buried underground? This duffel bag isn't waterproof."
"Jason wasn't wearing it when he was killed. It was already packed inside the getaway car," Betty added, crouching down and tugging on a pair of cotton gloves. "V?"
Veronica handed over the large garbage bag she'd tucked inside of her purse. "Is there anything else in there, B?"
The jacket was moved aside and Betty shook her head. "Doesn't look like it."
Bagging the entire parcel carefully, she passed it to Jughead and ran her fingers through the dirt to sift it. After several passes, she rose to her feet and dusted off her jeans. Jughead absently knotted the bag, his mind racing through his father's growing list of sins. Torched the car. Took money from the Lodges for an illegal job. Dumped Jason's body in the river. Only thing he was innocent of at this point was stealing Keller's files.
"There must be something we're not seeing," Betty insisted. "We need light. A place to go."
"Jughead's trailer," Veronica suggested.
"Could be cops watching," Jughead replied quietly. "I want the truth, but I'm not about to hand Keller the proverbial switch to dad's electric chair."
Veronica frowned, drawing her coat tightly around her frame. "My place is obviously out, now that my father's shady dealings are tied to this."
"I'm a runaway, so my place is out," Betty reminded them.
Archie leaned against his truck, arms folded. "I'd suggest my place, but what if your mom sees us?"
"And Kevin's place is out, leaving us standing here in a forest." Veronica's arms swooped around them. "I also doubt Pop's would be cool with us unpacking murder evidence in the corner booth."
Somewhere safe. Somewhere with light. Somewhere… Of course. Jughead's body was jittering with energy as he realized where they could go.
"You up for a little break and enter?"
The beauty of a small town was the misplaced belief that no one would dare sully its good name with misbehaviour. That doors could remain unlocked—or, in this case, broken window locks could remain that way for years.
Jughead had first discovered the faulty window latch three years ago. The fighting had just begun at home—the full-blown, dishes thrown, screaming kind—and he'd taken off because he had exams the next day and couldn't focus. Pop's had been a perfect place to cram, but come three-thirty in the morning, he was passing out in the booth and being gently urged to go home. He wasn't sure why he'd bothered to try and break into the school. Convenience, maybe, of being right where he'd be writing his finals at ten. The window had been a lucky break. Ditto his hidden closet beneath the stairs.
Betty had the keys to the Blue and Gold office in her bag, which made things easy, although he'd certainly learned how to pick a lock thanks to his father's tendency to lose track of his keys while on a bender. With a flourish, he slid open the window to the weight room adjacent to the gym and made the short drop to the ground.
"Arch?"
It was strategic, beckoning his athletic friend to descend next: the two of them could ensure their girlfriends made it safely to ground. Archie hit the floor with a soft thump and held his arms out to guide Veronica to safety. Jughead held out a hand for Betty, but earned only a garbage bag for his trouble.
"I'm not an amateur, Juggie," Betty lightly teased, dropping inside with a grin.
"That was the sexiest break-in I've ever seen," Jughead blurted out, immediately flushing crimson as Veronica giggled.
"You're welcome," Betty demurred.
Jughead and Betty took the lead, cutting through a side corridor past the science labs that would bring them to the office as quickly as possible. While there was no overnight security or caretaker on weekends—Jughead had spent many nights sleeping at school prior to the Toledo move—no assumptions were made. Betty drew the blinds quickly inside the office, waving off any instincts to use flashlights.
"One light, closest to the hallway," she hissed. "Cars driving by will notice too much light in here."
"Got it!" Reaching for a nearby desk lamp, Veronica pulled it to the floor and flipped the switch. "We'll sit on the floor, just like preschool."
"Excellent, V!"
The group settled on the ground as Betty opened the garbage bag carefully, gloves in place, and unzipped the duffel bag within. Beneath the light, the jacket seemed so… innocent. Unimportant. The garish yellow 'R' was blemished by dirt, but otherwise, it was just a varsity jacket. A jacket with the name Jason stitched upon it.
"If Jason wasn't wearing it when he was killed, why would it be important?" Archie mused aloud.
Veronica shook her head slowly. "I don't know… Maybe the killer put it in the car after the murder?"
"That would make it valuable for DNA, but again, it's been buried and unprotected. It rained," Jughead reminded them. "My dad has made some terrible decisions in his life, but even he's watched enough CSI to know how to protect evidence. It's almost like the jacket's an afterthought to him."
Betty frowned, tilting her head as she ran her gloved fingertips over the white script. "Why would FP say that Jason's varsity jacket is dangerous?"
Jughead buried his face in his hands, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. "Because it could lock him up. Throw away the key."
This was it: the moment he'd spent his entire life waiting for. The moment his father truly revealed himself to be the man the town always whispered about. The innuendos, the accusations, the "Serpent Scum" taunts—it had all borne fruit. Deadly, dangerous fruit.
And what would happen to him? To Jellybean and his mom? FP's turnaround and sobriety had been the foundation of a hope of bringing them back from Toledo, away from the bastards Gladys attracted. But now?
A familiar hand clapped him firmly on his left shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Archie, he recognized. A tickle of hair grazed his right cheek as Betty leaned her head upon his right shoulder. He mumbled a thank you as his silent sentinels, his forever friends, were there for him. The Three Musketeers—maybe Veronica could be that fourth that Betty loved to remind them of.
"Oh, Juggie," Betty whispered softly as he began to tremble.
"It's over," he murmured.
"No. No, I'm not giving up." Betty pulled away and he lifted his head in confusion. "I'm not giving up!" she repeated, reaching for the jacket. "Archie, on your feet!"
"Huh?"
"Please," she begged, rising from the ground.
Jughead tapped her knee. "Betts, what are you doing?"
With Archie on his feet, Betty held out the jacket to him. "Put it on," she ordered him.
Archie's expression was a mix of disgust and disbelief. "What?"
"Put this on," Betty insisted, whipping the jacket around his shoulders like a cape.
Reluctantly, Archie complied and slid his arms inside the sleeves. Betty tugged the jacket into place, adjusting the collar.
"You do remember how creepy it was when Coach tried to give me Jason's number, right?" the redhead reminded her.
"Betty, this is weird," Veronica cautioned. "What are you doing?"
"It's easier to examine it this way, and I'm sorry, but the Blue and Gold doesn't have a mannequin for examining the jackets of murdered teens," Betty snapped.
Jughead watched as Betty's palms patted and slid over Archie's chest, shoulders and back, her wide green eyes searching every inch of its surface for… what? He wasn't certain. But he'd learned long ago that Betty could not be dissuaded from pursuing her theories. Her hands plunged into the jacket pockets from behind Archie and she paused, gasping.
"There's a hole in the pocket!" she announced, jostling her left hand within it.
"Pretty common with jackets, Betty," Archie replied.
Betty's focus remained on the left pocket, her hand digging deeper within. "Okay, but I don't know about you guys, but when I get a hole in my jacket pocket, I always lose my Chapstick in the lining."
"Or my Montblanc," Veronica agreed.
Jughead and Veronica rose to their feet now, Betty's face shadowed in the dim lighting as she ran her fingertips along the hem of the jacket. Halfway around the back, she froze.
"What the hell?"
"What is it?" Archie asked, craning his neck.
With methodical manipulation, Betty worked the mystery find around to the damaged pocket. Her hand slipped inside and plucked out her treasure with a triumphant grin.
"Nancy Drew strikes again," Jughead congratulated her, shaking his head in disbelief.
In her hand was a tiny, silver USB drive.
"I suspect this is the real Plan B," Betty declared, gesturing to the office computers. "Shall we?"
Archie yanked the jacket off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. "After you making me wear a dead guy's clothes? We're watching it."
Computer booted up, chairs pulled to circle the monitor, Betty handed the drive to Jughead. "You get the final say, Jug."
The gesture meant more to him than he could ever express in language, but if given the chance, he would spend years proving his love and admiration for her in deed. Taking the drive from her outstretched hand, he nodded.
"I know what Joaquin said, but you're right: I need the truth, whatever it is."
Settling into the chair in front of the computer, Betty's hands firmly upon his shoulders, he inserted the USB drive and launched the file explorer. The drive contained a single file, innocuously named Mov07110137. Holding his breath, he double-clicked the file and nervously watched the video player spring to life.
Please tell me this isn't what I think it is.
But it was. His heart raced as the image of Jason Blossom appeared, tied to a chair in what he assumed was the basement of the Whyte Wyrm. There was no sound, but he wouldn't have heard it for the rush of blood in his ears. The world receded to white noise as he noticed who was on screen (an unknown man in a Serpent jacket) and more importantly, who wasn't: FP Jones.
The Serpent taunted Jason, slapping him and shouting something in his face. Despite the grainy quality of the footage, Jughead could make out bruises and a cut beneath Jason's eye. The Serpent startled, turning his head towards a door near the top of the frame, and promptly exited through it. Moments later, the door swung open and Jughead braced himself.
Please don't be there, Dad. Please don't walk in. Please…
A father stepped into the room, his features cold and uncaring. But not his father.
Betty's hands tightened on his shoulders as Clifford Blossom approached his son deliberately, not speaking a single word. Jason's lips moved, perhaps a plea for help, but the Blossom patriarch had his own agenda. Reaching into Jason's shirt pocket, he removed what appeared to be a ring. Nana Rose's ring, Jughead deduced. Jason's head hung low in defeat.
The white noise roared louder as Clifford reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a revolver.
His stomach lurched, yet his eyes would not avert their torturous gaze. The Blossoms had been suspects, sure, but the reality of it? The idea that a father could lift a gun, as Clifford was doing, and aim it at their crying child… The gun fired and he reached up to grip Betty's hand.
He killed his son. He killed his goddamn son.
Sounds drifted around him as Clifford left the basement and he closed the media player with a heavy heart. The relief of his father not being the shooter did little to ease his horror at what could never be unseen. Veronica was sobbing quietly into Archie's shoulder as the redhead held her, staring dumbfounded at the computer. Behind him, Betty whimpered and he rose to his feet to embrace her.
"How could he?" Betty whispered.
"I don't know. I… I just don't know."
The blonde suddenly pulled away, her hand fumbling in her pocket for her cellphone. Her shaking fingers scrolled through her contacts and selected one, even as Archie questioned her actions.
"You need to get out of that house," she began, and Jughead immediately understood her frantic actions.
Cheryl.
"Listen to me," she continued, her voice shaky and low. "We found a video tonight. It shows Jason's murder. Cheryl, your dad pulled the trigger. Clifford killed Jason."
A long pause, and Betty began to pace. "I'm so sorry, Cheryl, but do you understand me? You're not safe there. Go to my house. Call Polly. She'll let you in."
"We can go get her," Archie offered quietly.
Betty held up her hand. "Okay, good. Call me when you're safe."
Hanging up, her attention turned to Jughead. "Your father is innocent."
"He must have assumed if Clifford tried anything, he'd silence him with this," Jughead mused. "But something changed."
"Clifford must have upped the ante," Veronica theorized. "I don't know how, but whatever it was, it was enough for your father to confess to a murder."
"When he's free, he can tell you everything," Betty reminded him. "Now, come on. We're going to my house."
Archie hesitated. "Wait, shouldn't we go to Sheriff Keller?"
"And risk him burying this? No way." With a fierce expression, Betty plucked the USB drive from the computer. "We're taking this to my mother first, just in case."
Alice Cooper's anger at Betty's defiance immediately turned to a smug satisfaction in proving Keller wrong. The video safely copied to Betty's laptop and a second USB key, Mama Cooper had driven them all to the police station, where a thoroughly irritated Keller awaited them by the front desk.
"What couldn't you call into the station line, Alice?" he demanded. "My home phone is not for police business."
"Oh, nothing much," Alice purred. "Just video of Jason Blossom's murder that exonerates FP Jones."
Keller's eyes widened, his gaze sweeping over the four teens and settling on Betty's steely features. "Somehow, I sense this was your doing?"
"It's a good thing I did, since you have the wrong man in a cell. Again," she added, jerking her head in Jughead's direction as Alice handed the sheriff the USB drive.
"I need to review this." Keller excused himself and headed down the corridor to his office.
"I should probably get home," Veronica reluctantly informed them, looking to Archie. "Can you give me a lift?"
"Sure. Will you be okay, Jughead?"
"Yeah, go on. And thank you, for everything."
The two friends embraced warmly, the gesture heavy with meaning. It was a mending of strained relations, a mutual forgiveness for errors and damage done. With a reassuring smile, Archie led Veronica away, leaving a trio of journalists awaiting Keller's reaction.
"You still shouldn't have run off today," Alice quietly admonished, "but I'm proud of your dedication to this story."
"Thanks, mom. But it was more than a story. It was FP's life."
"It never made sense. FP killing someone in cold blood," Alice mused.
Jughead decided now was as good a time as any to pry. "You grew up with him. You know him better than that."
"Knew," Alice corrected, pursing her lips.
A door opened and the trio watched a visibly blanched Keller approaching them. Gesturing to the desk officer, he quietly instructed him to dispatch all available officers and back-up from Greendale to the Blossom home.
"My father?" Jughead demanded loudly.
"What about him?"
"Um, he's innocent? Which means he should be free?"
"I fully acknowledge that he didn't kill Jason, but he's not getting out anytime soon."
Betty stepped forward, throwing her hands up. "What?"
"Tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, perjury—and that's just off the top of my head!" Keller snapped. "Now I suggest the three of you get some sleep, because I will have a hell of a lot of questions tomorrow. But my priority tonight is arresting Clifford Blossom. Excuse me."
Betty's lips parted, as if to protest, but Jughead shook his head to silence her. There would be a fight ahead, and he would need her conviction. But he could sense a losing battle tonight in the sheriff's embarrassment at being wrong. Besides, until Clifford was caught, Cheryl was in danger. Betty had yet to hear from Jason's twin, nor had Polly contacted her.
Alice gestured to the exit doors. "Come on, Betty, Jughead. Let's go home."
"Jughead shouldn't be home alone right now, Mom."
Pivoting on her heel, Alice rolled her eyes. "Betty, do you think I'm a fool? Of course he can't go home. I'm certain Fred Andrews will be happy for him to stay overnight."
Close enough to sneak over. Close enough to protect her. Jughead was content with this arrangement. Judging from Betty's mouthed ladder, she was equally in favour.
The Cooper home was lit up in every room upon their arrival. Inside the kitchen, they found Polly and Cheryl huddled over twin cups of hot chocolate. While Cheryl's polished outfit and makeup suggested a cool surface, her shaking hands betrayed the fear within.
"Daddy did a bad thing," she remarked absently. "And now everyone will know about it."
Betty settled into the chair beside her. "I'm glad you're safe, Cheryl."
"I confronted him before I left. I'm a Blossom, Betty. We don't run from our demons," she explained quietly. "He didn't deny it. He left out the back door. And Mommy just sat there, drinking her wine like it was nothing. Like Jason was nothing…"
"Jason was special," Polly tearfully chimed in. "And we will make sure he's remembered that way."
Alice fussed over them quietly, preparing tea for Betty and offering clothing for Cheryl to borrow. Ushering the three young women upstairs, Alice escorted Jughead next door, where Fred was waiting on the porch. Pausing on the walkway, Alice turned to him, visibly upset.
"Betty told me about why she really broke up with Chuck. She showed me the photos." Alice's voice cracked as she bowed her head. "I should have known. I should have protected my baby."
For all of her flaws and demands, Jughead knew that Alice loved her daughters. He'd caught glimpses of it over the years: the time Betty fell from the top of the slide; when she'd had chicken pox that spread to her eyelids, threatening her sight; the time Polly had run away from home. She often smothered them, demanding unrealistic achievements, but when they were truly in need, she was the first to protect them. This rare vulnerability was one of those moments.
"Abusers hide. They deceive. It's what they do best," Jughead reassured her. "And Betty was in denial for a long time."
Brushing aside a single tear, Alice shook herself. "I just wanted to say, I know what you did to help Betty. You and Archie. And I won't forget it."
Okay, did hell freeze over? A compliment from Alice Cooper? He was almost tempted to look for a camera crew, because it felt like a prank.
"Betty's my best friend. I'll always be there for her."
"Good." Forcing a smile, she turned to Fred. "Thank you for waiting up. I didn't think it was safe for him to be alone tonight."
"Of course. Jug's family. Head on in, Archie's waiting for you."
It took half a movie and grilled cheese sandwiches for Fred to head upstairs to sleep, which was just as well, because the Cooper house remained lit like a proverbial Christmas tree until midnight. By one, Jughead was settling the ladder against the side wall and scaling it to greet an impatient blonde in a black tank top and silky pajama shorts.
"Juggie," she whispered happily as he stepped inside. "How long can you stay?"
"Mom asleep?"
"Yes, but she'll sleep light tonight. Dad's out of town."
"Hmm. An hour, then. Just in case."
They slid into her bed, Betty curving her body against his and resting her head upon his chest. Jughead wrapped his arm around her, closing his eyes and sighing. It was incredible, how grounding she could be. His world was a chaotic nightmare, his future uncertain, but with Betty at his side, he was safe.
"I can't get it out of my mind," Betty whispered. "The gun. The way he just… did it."
"I know."
Her hand fisted in his shirt as she inched closer. "Keller is an asshole. Your father should be home tonight. He did what he did because he was scared."
"He also has priors, so no one will buy that. It pisses me off, and I'll fight it to the end, but a part of me is accepting that he might pay for Clifford's crime. I just wish I knew why."
"Maybe knowing Clifford is arrested will help him open up."
Burying his face in her hair, Jughead hummed noncommittally. Somehow, he sensed he would never get the full story of how Jason came to end up shot in the basement of the Whyte Wyrm. But if he could know the core, know his father's heart and motives, he could find a little peace.
"Juggie?"
"Yeah, Betts?"
"If your dad stays in jail, what will you do?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "Why?"
"I know it's selfish," she murmured, "but I couldn't bear it if you moved back to Toledo. Last time hurt so much."
"I know. It killed me to see you so upset. To cause that pain." He kissed the top of her head firmly, hugging her tighter. "I'm not going back there, unless it's to help Jelly and Mom come back."
"Okay."
"Okay," he echoed as she tilted her face to his, seeking the comfort of a soft kiss.
"Stay until I fall asleep?" she mumbled.
"I think I can do that, considering you're halfway there," he teased lightly.
Limbs entwined, Betty drifted off ten minutes later. Staring at the ceiling, fingers tracing up and down her bare arms, Jughead tried to ignore the soft crying in the next bedroom.
The next week was a blur. An angry, heartbreaking blur.
There was no arrest in the Blossom murder. After all, Keller could hardly read a corpse their Miranda rights. Swinging from a noose in the family barn, Clifford had opted to face the judgment of his son in the afterlife over a jury of his peers. In doing so, he'd spilled the last family secret—literally. The barrel of maple syrup he'd jumped from had toppled open, revealing a Cracker Jack surprise: packets of heroin.
Theories ran wild around Riverdale High and particularly among Jughead's circle of friends. Had Jason known about his father's true business venture? Had he opted to run drugs for an opposing dealer to flip daddy off? Had Jason threatened to shatter the perfect Blossom image? Nothing was certain, but all of it made sense. What didn't make sense was Keller and Mayor McCoy's adamant belief that the Serpents were dealing Clifford's heroin, but it hadn't stopped them from trying to get names from FP in exchange for leniency. His father steadfastly denied Serpent involvement, but said little else.
Jughead's father remained in jail as expected, facing a stack of charges that amounted to everything but murder itself. Mary Andrews had flown in from Chicago to assist, but left her meetings with his father discouraged and pessimistic. FP remained tight-lipped about Jason's murder, refusing to offer any motive for his disposal of the body. The refusal to cooperate on the murder or the drugs had killed any hope of negotiation.
Without a legal guardian, social services was alerted to his precarious living situation and immediately attempted to take him into a group home pending a foster family assignment. Fred Andrews, to his relief, had stepped up, reminding them of how harmful it would be to disrupt his school schedule to shuttle him to Greendale. Reluctantly, the social workers had granted Fred temporary custody, although they soon made it clear that it could not be a permanent solution.
"I'm sorry, Jughead," Fred had explained over dinner one night. "When Mary and I broke up, I was picked up on a DUI. They won't let me foster you as a single parent with my income, especially given my record."
"It's okay. Thank you for wanting to. It matters," he insisted as Fred began to protest.
On his list of things that mattered: Betty's scathing article in the Register, calling out the town for refusing to name Clifford outright in their coverage of the murder while assuming the Southside Serpents were the couriers for the illegal wares of the Blossom empire. Her passionate defense had earned her some sideways glances in town and worse, a vandalized locker. Jughead still seethed at the thought of the blood smeared on the door: Go to Hell, Serpent Slut it proclaimed, alongside a blonde doll strung up by her neck.
"Like this is scary after what Chuck did," she scoffed, refusing to meet Jughead's concerned stare.
"Betts, you have to stop standing up for my dad. It's not worth it."
"Like hell it isn't. You stood up for me. FP stood up for me. Loyalty matters to me, Jug. Not disgusting pranks and idle threats."
Despite her reassurances, Jughead quietly arranged for Betty to be escorted to and from classes until the furor died down. If she noticed what he'd done—and he assumed she would catch on quickly—she didn't fight him on it.
A week passed, then two. Betty was invited to speak at the town Jubilee in recognition of her role in solving the Blossom case, an invitation she rejected on the grounds that Jughead had been just as vital to the investigation. He'd managed to talk her out of it, suggesting that at least someone with integrity and honesty would be speaking for a change. She'd spent the entire week scribbling notes in the margins of her notebooks and typing furiously on her laptop, determine to "heal the town" with her words.
With a sudden abundance of free time on his hands, he'd visited his father three times now. Despite his persistent questioning, FP was unwilling to speak of the USB drive, the plan or why he'd copped to a murder he'd clearly not committed. Each time, FP would blame the lack of privacy and insist he didn't need to know. Each time he'd storm out of the station, fighting frustrated tears.
His father was running out of time. He was running out of time.
His social worker called at last on that second Thursday night since FP's arrest, informing him that a Southside family had been contacted about possibly fostering him. The social worker, in her saccharine voice, advised that they'd fostered teens before and were very nice, not that Jughead gave a damn. Especially when it was explained that he would have to transfer to Southside High.
Depressed and in dire need of a little video game venting, he headed inside the Andrews home in search of his best friend. Inadvertently, he stumbled onto a loaded conversation between Archie and Fred.
"What are you talking about, Dad? Chicago?" he heard Archie shout.
"Yes, with your mother," Fred replied firmly. "Given everything that's happened in the last year and my precarious financial situation, maybe it's best you move in with your mother."
"And leave all of my friends when they need me most? No way!" Archie's voice grew louder, his anger as fiery as his hair. "Betty's getting threatened, Polly's kids are missing, Jughead's dad is in jail. And Veronica—"
"Veronica is exactly why you need to leave town," Fred interrupted. "Son, you have no idea of what Hiram Lodge is capable of."
"Veronica isn't her father."
"That doesn't matter, Archie. My business is tied up in the Lodges' affairs and SoDale… Something's not right, and I can't get out of it yet, but I intend to. I'll sell the business completely if that's what it takes. We need less ties to Hiram, not more."
Jughead stood motionless in the front hallway, stunned by Fred's condemnation of the entire Lodge family. What did he know about SoDale that the public didn't? Was it the private prison Veronica had uncovered in her father's documents?
"You've never judged Jughead for what FP's done. Judging Veronica is hypocritical, and you know it. And I'm not going anywhere!"
Archie stormed out of the kitchen, nearly colliding with Jughead in his hurry. A silent exchange of concerned looks was followed by an evening walk through the neighbourhood to blow off steam.
"My dad's an idiot," Archie muttered as they rounded the corner near the Klump house.
"He loves you. He means well, even if he's completely wrong," Jughead replied, thrusting his hands deeply inside his Sherpa coat for warmth.
"He's wrong, Jughead. About Veronica. About Riverdale. Everything."
Archie led them to a nearby park, where a set of empty swings swayed in the October breeze. They settled into the seats, somewhat crammed but comforted by the familiar surroundings. They'd spent plenty of summertime hours here, usually with Mary or Fred supervising. The significance was not lost on Jughead, although it went unsaid.
"He is wrong, but he'll come around. Unlike most of the adults around here, he actually listens to us. Give him time to cool down, Arch."
They began to swing, absently pumping their legs until they fell into a rhythm, arcing only half as high as their childhood antics, but satisfied with the soft sway.
"I just don't understand how he thinks I can abandon you at a time like this. Or Betty, or Ronnie. He raised me to stand by my friends, and while I've screwed that up at times, I don't plan on it now," Archie insisted.
"Your dad, like half this town, is realizing that there's no such thing as an idyllic, safe small town," Jughead suggested. "He sees you in Jason Blossom. He… Jesus, Archie, that's it!"
Archie stilled his swing. "What's it?"
Jughead's boots skidded along the ground, halting his swing. "What could Clifford Blossom hold over my father that would terrify him enough to remain silent, even now? What would he go to prison for?"
Archie's eyes widened. "His kids. You."
"Bingo." Jughead leaned back in the swing, exasperated. "And of course he won't just tell me. But he made it clear ages ago that he doesn't want me anywhere near him, or the jail."
"But Clifford is dead," Archie countered. "The threat is gone, right?"
"Is it?" Jughead's mind was racing now with sinister possibilities. "Penelope drugged Polly, so she probably knew about Jason and said nothing. The man was running drugs to and from Montreal for years. Who are his contacts? Who's moving the drugs now?"
Archie slumped in his seat, kicking the sand beneath them. "My dad knows something about SoDale and the Lodges. Hiram Lodge met with the Blossoms. At the time, we couldn't figure out why a real estate developer and maple syrup empire would work together, but it's different now."
"Hiram wants to build a prison, and the Blossoms have been quietly running a heroin empire for years," Jughead agreed. "What if Hiram wanted in on their turf and they shut him down?"
Jughead's mind flashed back to what Joaquin had told them about "a rich guy's job" that Mustang had brought forward. Was the rich guy Clifford Blossom? Or was it Hiram Lodge?
"Jug, this is big. You need to talk to someone about this."
"Who, Keller?" Jughead snorted angrily, kicking the sand beneath him. "It's a lost cause getting justice in this town. You have to hand over the actual smoking gun to get any response."
"What about your dad, then? Maybe if he realizes how much you already know—that he's not protecting you from anything—he'll finally tell you the truth."
Huh. Archie did have a valuable point: if he already knew the truth, his father would likely confirm it.
"Might be my last chance to get him out of there, save myself from foster care," he agreed, adjusting his beanie.
Archie grimaced. "Shit, did they finally call?"
"Finalizing it Monday, unless things change dramatically. Come next week, I'll be at Southside High."
"What did Betty say?" At Jughead's averted gaze, Archie stood up. "You've told her that my dad can't foster you, right?"
"Um, I may have downplayed the possibility of living elsewhere…"
"You can't do that to her! She's your girlfriend, and your best friend."
Jughead threw his hands up, exasperated. "And I'm sure she's tired of the non-stop negativity that is my Jones birthright! Look, I'll tell her, but she has that damn speech for the Jubilee. Last thing I need is to fuel her anger at this town."
"Jug—"
"Archie, listen to me. She can't save my dad from jail. She can't save me from foster care. But what Betty can do, perhaps better than anyone else, is bring the two sides of this town back together. Right now, that's the focus of her speech. I don't want her to go in an angry direction tomorrow. Because getting this town to ease up on the Serpents? That helps me and my dad."
Archie ran his hand through his hair, fingertips drumming absently on the steel support of the swing set. "Okay, I get it. But you have to tell her after the speech."
"I will. I know I have to." Glancing up at a gathering of grey clouds, Jughead shrugged. "Gonna rain, maybe even snow. You ready to go home, or should we head to Pop's?"
"Nah, we can go home."
They'd scarcely taken ten steps before Archie halted abruptly in his tracks. Without warning, he embraced Jughead, leaving him bewildered as he hugged him back.
"Thank you for listening," Archie mumbled. "For still being my friend, even after all the things I've screwed up."
"I'm not perfect, Archie. It's okay."
Pulling away awkwardly, Archie pressed on in silence towards his childhood home, his best friend in town. And while neither spoke of it, each was consumed by the same thought:
Was Hiram Lodge the mastermind behind the Blossom murder? And if so, what else was he capable of?
And boom! Wait just a freaking minute... Could it be that everything shady in Riverdale ties to dear old Hiram after all? We'll mull that over in the next chapter. Also next time: the fall-out of Clifford's crime affects the town, and Jughead makes one last effort to get FP to open up. But will FP listen?
Three more chapters, including the epilogue (which is a flash forward). The offer stands: if you'd like to see an event, a character, or have a specific question answered before this story wraps, leave a review and let me know!
