I've never felt that Riverdale fully explained Jason Blossom's death. Remember: FP's confession was coerced, and we already know of at least two major lies within in.

On this, the anniversary of Jason's death, I'm going to give you the full truth about Jason's death (my theory, anyway). It takes into account what we know now in season 2.

Stick around for the end notes, because I do have updates...

Song: Mad World - Gary Jules

Disclaimer: I'm not a Riverdale writer, or else we would have had these scenes in there *whistle* Disclaim, disclaim!


Twenty-Three: Mad World

"Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher, tell me what's my lesson?
Look right through me, look right through me
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had…"

Mad World – Gary Jules

Sociological researchers like Blair Wheaton have long argued for the "broken bridge" theory of stress. Springing from an event in 1984 where a physical bridge—seemingly without any major event or damage suffered—simply collapsed overnight, the theory suggests that physical and emotional stress share similarities. A bridge can be damaged by a single, catastrophic event like an earthquake or a bombing, but tiny cracks and rust forming over years and left unchecked can also eventually weaken the metal to where it simply breaks down and gives way.

It's no different for people, really. A single, traumatic event can be so life-altering, it results in PTSD, depression, and what most of us think of as a "mental breakdown". But little things can also add up for people too, and those proverbial straws will break our camel backs and leave us face-first on the ground. A failed test. A relationship ended. A parent loses their job. Little cracks, rust around our edges, until that one final thing happens and we just can't anymore. We're out of strength, out of ideas. We're done.

Riverdale is that latter bridge, golden and gleaming, standing strong for years in a haven free of storms and damage. And yet, it's crumbling before our eyes. The tiny fractures of corrosion and time have picked away at it, leaving a heap of debris at the divide between north and south. We are the bridges inside those bridges, each of us bearing the strain of pokes and prods and lies and long-hidden truths.

Which of us will collapse first? Will anyone see the cracks in time? I may be a lifelong pessimist, but I don't think I'm wrong in believing that no one's coming to save us. Jason Blossom's murder is the corrosion of all of us, some more than others.

The breakdown has begun. All we can do now is pick up the pieces.

Sitting in the centre of the lunchtime din at Riverdale High, Jughead was far more emotional that he'd anticipated.

If things went down as expected on Monday—and given his father's predicament and his mother's disinterest, it was a done deal—this seemingly typical Friday afternoon would be one of his last as a student here. No more lunchtime laughter with Archie. No more stories with Betty at the Blue and Gold. No more secretly amusing gossip sessions with Kevin Keller at the helm. No more sassy barbs thrown by Veronica at jocks still rallying around Chuck Clayton (although their numbers had dwindled sharply after his disastrous birthday party).

And while his father's name had at least been cleared, the only reason life hadn't crumpled him to his knees was the comfort of Betty at his side. The thought of facing a new school, with lacklustre funding, angry teens and gang affiliations at every corner… it was overwhelming. And he would be alone. Yeah, he'd been a loner his entire life, but Archie and Betty had served as protectors against the worst of the bullying he'd faced.

"I hate this speech," Betty grumbled, angrily crossing out a paragraph. "I'm just going to go up there and say, Hi Riverdale, you suck, free FP Jones."

"An unconventional approach," he quipped, "but somehow, I sense that's not on brand for the Mayor's 76th Jubilee."

"Then she shouldn't have asked me to speak." Shoving aside her notebook, Betty reached for his hand. "You going to see your dad today?"

"Yeah, after school. Kevin told me his dad's on the early shift and that if I ask really nicely, the night clerk will let me and my dad talk in the room they usually let inmates consult their lawyers in." He reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know if it'll matter, but maybe the privacy will get him to tell me something more than stay away from this mess."

"I really hope so, Jug. Even if he doesn't want to tell the police anything, you're his son. You deserve answers."

"Hello, Bughead!" a cheery voice called out from behind them.

Spinning around, they spotted Veronica and Archie approaching, lunch trays in hand. The perpetually overdressed Latina slid into the chair beside Betty, nudging her blushing friend's shoulder.

"Bughead?" Jughead rolled his eyes. "That's what they're calling us?"

"Every great couple needs a couple name, and yours is honestly adorable," Veronica chirped.

"What's with her?" Jughead asked Archie.

Archie shrugged, reaching for the carton of milk on his tray. "She said she wanted to tell all of us together."

"As Archiekins has hinted at, I have an announcement," Veronica agreed, reaching into her backpack. "As of today, I am the interim captain of the Riverdale Vixens, complete with HBIC t-shirt."

At this, she pulled the shirt free, holding it up for all to see. Betty's eyes widened at the sight of Cheryl Blossom's trademark training gear. Whenever practices grew brutal enough that the Vixens protested, Cheryl would toss her hair and point to her shirt while clearing her throat loudly.

"Cheryl's quitting the squad?" Betty asked. "The Vixens are her life."

Veronica folded the tee neatly, tucking it away. "I know, I couldn't believe it either. But she told me that with everything going on at home, she wants to be there for her Nana Rose. She also thinks her family drama will distract the squad and she, and I paraphrase, refuses to let the tradition of cheerleading excellence at Riverdale be tainted by distracted, gossiping girls. I'm surprised she asked me over Ginger or Midge, but I'm happy to help out until she can come back."

"Well, you'll be an excellent captain, V!" Betty enthused, hugging her friend.

"Speaking of Cheryl," Archie broke in, his voice low, "she's coming over here."

Following Archie's gaze, the group turned to greet a Cheryl Blossom very unlike her usual self. While her trademark curls were perfectly coiffed, her pale grey blouse and black skirt were far from her daily blood-red attire. It occurred to Jughead that Cheryl had been wearing nothing but black and grey for days.

"Hello Archie, Veronica, Jughead, my cousin Betty," she greeted them softly. "I assume you've heard the news of my abdication."

"We did," Betty replied. "But Cheryl, if you need anything—"

"I'm fine," Cheryl cut her off with a smile. "I just need to focus on the family right now. And speaking of family, I wanted to offer a little support."

Reaching into her purse, Cheryl withdrew an ornate gold and ruby broach in the shape of a spider. It was one Cheryl wore often, ever since her twelfth birthday. Even Jughead had noticed it, although given its ostentatious size, it was difficult to ignore.

"Jughead, whatever may have happened with your father, you are not him. As my cousin's betrothed, that makes you family. Here."

She tossed the broach across the table and Jughead's hand shot out, snatching it from the air. The golden legs of the spider poked into the palm of his hand.

"That will fetch a pretty penny at the pawn shop. Should be enough to keep you in burgers and 'S' t-shirts for months to come, maybe years."

"Cheryl, you really don't have to do this," he protested, uncomfortable with the weighty jewel.

"I would like to," Cheryl insisted. "Don't insult me by returning it."

Veronica leaned forward, clearly troubled by the exchange. "Cheryl, are you okay? Do you want to sit down with us, have lunch?"

"I'm as well as anyone can be expected, given my father's actions. And thank you, but I have an appointment with Weatherbee to discuss making up some assignments from last week." Forcing a smile, she leaned down to hug Betty. "Give my best to Polly."

"I will," Betty murmured in bewilderment.

Once the maple syrup heiress had exited the cafeteria, Archie was the first to speak. "I'm worried about her."

"Me too," Betty agreed. "V, maybe we should have a girls' night soon? You, me, Cheryl and Polly at my place?"

Veronica clapped her hands excitedly. "That's an excellent idea. I'll arrange a housecall from my favourite masseuse! If nothing else, we could all use a little de-stressing these days. And it'll get her out of that dreadful house."

"That place gave me the creeps before we found out about Clifford," Jughead agreed, taking a bite of his burger.

And while the four of them sensed that Cheryl needed a friend, none of them realized just how badly. Not yet, anyway.


The group had convened after school to walk home together. The first snowfall of the year had arrived the night before, rendering the sidewalks icy-black and the air sharp in their lungs, but they were too distracted to care. Veronica and Betty had decided to engage Polly in planning their girls' night, while Archie and Jughead made plans to hang out to have an excuse to escort them safely to their destination. Betty had spent the walk throwing out lines from her speech, with her friends offering suggestions and feedback. And while Betty continued to joke about ranting at the town about their hypocrisy and divisiveness, her genuine suggestions were the inspiring but sincere message Jughead knew she could deliver.

They found Polly on the front porch of the Cooper home, pacing anxiously out front. Upon spotting Betty, the elder sister ran down the steps to greet her.

"Betty, I'm so glad you're here!"

"Pol, what is it? What happened?"

"Something's wrong with Cheryl. Come inside, you'll see what I mean."

The group complied, following a frantic Polly into the dining room. There, she revealed two items that were both worrisome and loaded with goodwill: a red ring box, and a large folder, labelled Twins.

"Cheryl came by an hour ago," Polly began, settling down at the table. "Said she was skipping the afternoon for a therapy session and wanted to stop in on the way. She… she said I deserved these things, and that she wished I could have been her sister, just like Jason wanted me to be."

Betty reached for the folder, flipping it open. Pages fluttered as her eyes widened in recognition.

"This is the investigator's file," Betty announced. "The search for the twins… it's all here. And he found them."

"He found the babies? That's amazing, Polly!" Veronica exclaimed.

"How did she get this away from Penelope?" Jughead asked. "And if they knew where the twins were, why didn't they tell you?"

"I don't know." Polly reached for the small red box, turning it over in her palm. "But they're happy and healthy, in Manhattan. They found out two days before Clifford… That's not all she brought."

Opening the box, Polly revealed Nana Rose's ring. Her engagement ring.

"She said it was mine, that I was family and Jason wanted me to have it… Betty, something is very wrong with Cheryl. The way she spoke to me, the way her mind kept drifting off… She's in trouble."

"Yeah, we were thinking the same thing," Veronica agreed. "We were planning to invite her for a sleepover. Just us, away from Thornhill. Maybe Sunday?"

"No, no!" Polly rose to her feet, grabbing Betty by the shoulders. "I told you what happened to me at the Sisters. It's like that."

Betty's skin blanched as she glanced sideways at Jughead. "We don't have until Sunday, do we, Pol?"

Oh my god. The dark, uncharacteristic clothing. Giving away belongings. Putting affairs in order. It was a textbook study in suicidality. How had they not recognized it?

"No!" At this, Polly collapsed against Betty, hugging her tightly. "She can't be alone right now," she sobbed.

Betty nodded. "Okay, we're going to go get her tonight. You can drive us, right Archie?"

"Of course, whatever you need," the redhead agreed.

"I'm coming too," Jughead chimed in. "We all will."

Rubbing her sister's back, Betty hugged her tightly. "Do you want to come with us?"

"I can't. If I'm right and… I can't." Polly pulled away, slumping into a chair. "Just find her, Betty."

A text message was sent to Cheryl, inviting her to dinner at the Cooper home. Betty sent it, figuring her status as family might be enough to get a reply. Five agonizing minutes passed before her phone beeped. As she read Cheryl's response aloud, Jughead's stomach dropped.

"Thank you for trying, but I'm going to be with Jason now…"

"We have to go!" Veronica demanded, zipping her coat.

"Go where?" Archie asked.

"The funeral, Archie," Veronica replied. "Think. Where is Jason to her?"

"The river," Betty concluded. "We have to hurry."

The drive to Sweetwater River flew by, thanks in no small part to Archie's decision to go twenty over the limit. Crammed into the cab of the truck, the teens slammed into the passenger door as Archie made a sharp turn down the main public access to the shoreline. Betty had continued to text Cheryl, pleading with her to respond, to no avail. Archie had no sooner parked the truck than Betty was practically crawling over Jughead to open the passenger side door.

"I've got it, Betts!" Jamming the handle down, he nearly fell onto the snowy gravel below in his haste. "Where do we go from here?"

"The memorial site. Let's start there."

The teens hurried through the snow, cutting down the steep pathway to the river bank. Beneath Jason's maple tree, piled in the snow, they found Jason's jersey alongside Cheryl's Vixen uniform. It was a chilling sight, one Jughead knew would haunt him forever.

"She's been here," Archie yelled, turning to the river. "Cheryl! Cheryl, where are you?"

"Cheryl!" It was a symphony of frantic shouts, echoing off the trees and sending the last birds of summer into flight. "Cheryl!"

They cut closer to the water, eyes searching in every direction, until Betty patted his arm furiously, pointing into the distance. "Oh my god, she's there!"

Out on the frozen surface, swinging her fists angrily at the ice, sat Cheryl Blossom. Dressed in white, her hair flowing down her shoulders, she was almost angelic. Dressed for heaven itself, Jughead thought sadly. Even now, the demanded perfection of the Blossom name dictated her every decision.

"Cheryl, stop!" Betty pleaded.

The group rushed forward, halting as the delicate surface beneath their feet crackled beneath the strain. Edging backwards onto the shore, Archie studied the river.

"It's not fully frozen. Too much weight and it'll give out beneath us," he explained.

"And take Cheryl with it," Jughead whispered anxiously.

"Cheryl, please, come back to the shore!" Veronica pleaded. "We're here for you."

The redhead's arms swung wildly, determined to break through, as if Jason himself were waiting beneath the surface, beckoning to her. As Betty screamed out her name, she paused, tilting her head slightly.

"She heard you. Keep trying!" Archie pleaded.

"Cheryl! Cheryl, please! Polly needs you. You can't leave her alone," Betty rambled, her words spilling out in a flurry as Cheryl rose to her feet. "The babies! She wants you to help her find them. Jay-Jay's babies. Cheryl, please, come back to the shore and we'll figure this out together."

Cheryl turned around slowly, her gaze fixed on Betty. Her hair was messy, her hands fisted at her side, but Jughead swore he saw a half-smile of recognition. Trekking as a group across the ice was dangerous, but if Cheryl came back slowly on her own, she would be safe.

The strain of murders, of bodies and tears, of beautiful girls banging on ice and desperate cries in the forest chill—it finally took its deadly toll. To their collective horror, the ice gave away and with it, Cheryl collapsed into the frigid waters of Sweetwater River.

"NO!" Archie screamed, running across the ice.

"Archie, careful!" Veronica screamed, giving chase.

"Stay spaced out!" Jughead ordered them as he veered to the left of Archie's trajectory. "Too much weight and we all go under."

They moved quickly but carefully, mindful of creaks and cracks, but Archie rushed headlong into the fray, oblivious to the impending danger. The surface was already compromised now. One false move and it would shatter into the dark depths beneath them. Reaching the hole Cheryl had tumbled through, Archie's hands brushed aside snow, peering through the frozen sheet.

"She's not here!" Archie screamed.

Reaching his side, Jughead studied the rushing water. "The current has her. Spread out!"

The group scattered, radiating from the site of Cheryl's descent. Bare hands swiped at fluffy snow as Jughead scanned the glass for that familiar red hair that might just save her life now. His first swipes revealed nothing and he cursed beneath his breath. He moved a foot away, swiping furiously and finding nothing but inky blackness.

"She's here!"

The group spun around, rushing to Archie's side as his fists pounded angrily at the ice. Jughead winced as the surface cracked but the skin of Archie's knuckles also split wide, spilling blood on the snow. Pleas to be careful, to be safe, went unnoticed as Archie's fury rained down upon the icy block. A sickening crack signalled a broken bone and Jughead moved to intervene, but he was waved away by his friend.

"DAMN IT!" Archie screamed, driving his hands down once more.

The ice gave away and with it, gave up the crimson-haired girl within its clutches. Archie's hands plunged beneath the surface, yanking Cheryl out of the water and laying her gently on the ice. Betty dropped to the ice beside him, the two of them coordinating CPR strategy as Archie checked Cheryl's vitals. Veronica whimpered as Archie began chest compressions, his bloodied hand staining Cheryl's white coat.

"Come on!" he grunted as he moved.

"I've got no reception!" Veronica yelled at her phone as Betty counted off Archie's compressions.

Betty yelled fifteen and Archie tilted Cheryl's head back, opening her airway. He breathed for her—once, twice—then fell backwards as the bedraggled redhead began to cough furiously on the ice. Betty turned her to her side, whispering encouragement as Archie sunk back, shaking out his bleeding hand.

"That's it, Cheryl, cough it out. You're safe with us," Betty murmured.

"You gonna be okay, Arch?"

"It's nothing, Jug," his friend dismissed him. "Come on, we need to get her warmed up."

"And get you to a hospital," Veronica insisted.

Ignoring his girlfriend's quiet protests, Archie cradled Cheryl to his chest, lifting her up gently. Jughead pulled the keys from his friend's jacket pocket, leading the group across what seemed to be the most stable path of ice to the shoreline. It was Jughead who ultimately took the wheel, rebuking Archie for trying to drive one-handed.

"My place," Betty told him. "We'll get her a change of clothes and a warm shower."

"On it."

Cheryl was silent on the drive to the Cooper home, resting her head on Betty's shoulder. Veronica's coat was draped over her like a velvety blanket, working to keep the chill at bay. Archie's hand had begun to swell, and his fingers weren't willing to bend anymore.

"I'm dropping you three at the house and taking this one to the ER," Jughead announced, turning onto Betty's street. "No protests, Arch. That needs an X-ray."

"What about your dad?" Archie countered.

He shrugged, turning into the Cooper driveway. "I'll drop you off, drive down to see him, pick you up with the cast I'm sure you're wearing home. Stop arguing."

Veronica and Betty helped Cheryl out of the truck, steadying her with their arms and soothing words. The redhead paused as her feet touched the driveway and turned around to face Archie.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Archie nodded. "You're very welcome. Go get some rest, okay?"

"Mmmhmm."

As the trio of women stepped inside, Jughead exhaled loudly. "Holy shit…"

"I know, Jug. And you're right, you know: my hand's broken. I just didn't want Ronnie to panic."

"Ahh." Backing out of the driveway, Jughead headed down the main strip in search of the town hospital. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty sure I broke at least two bones. Wanna bet on it?"

"Yeah, no thanks."

As Jughead drove on in silence, he thought of himself, of Cheryl and how they were two sides of a coin in so many ways. Rich and poor. North and south. Shattered families, broken and lost, but in very different ways. He thought of Archie, of Betty and even Veronica, reminding himself of how his friends had been there for him in his darkest days, no matter how many times he'd tried to shove them away. And yet Cheryl, for all of her popularity, had few true friends to rely on, it seemed—only hangers on, craving her social power.

I could have ended up like her, he realized sadly. Giving in to despair. Unable to see any light.

Much to the surprise of his fifteen year-old self, he silently promised to look out of Cheryl from now on. That she would never feel alone again.


His father was cuffed to the table at the centre of the room, as if he were a threat to his son. His grizzled beard was unkempt, his eyes heavily rimmed in shadows, but his father still managed a genuine smile as he entered the room.

"Twenty minutes," the deputy instructed them.

Jughead nodded, sinking into the chair opposite FP and waiting for the door to close on their private room. As the deputy's footsteps carried down the corridor beyond, he began to speak softly, but firmly.

"Cheryl Blossom tried to kill herself this afternoon," he began, staring his father down. "Tried to drown herself in the river to be with Jason."

FP's head bowed forward, his expression pained with guilt. "She okay?"

"For now," Jughead replied, continuing. "And you know what I thought about after Archie pulled her from the river? That I could have ended up that low. Could still end up that low. Not like life has done me any favours."

"Jughead, you listen to me—"

"No! No, you will listen to me, Dad. Really listen. Because I'm done with this." Jughead's hands slammed down on the table, startling FP. "Cheryl's family kept her in the dark about the truth and when it finally came out, it destroyed her. Their lies destroyed her. And whether they did it out of spite, or to somehow shield her, it didn't stop her from trying to end her life. And I get it now. Whatever you're hiding about Jason's death, it's because of me and Jelly. But I'm telling you that I can't protect myself from a threat I can't see coming. And neither you nor the Serpents can save me if it comes knocking."

FP's hands gripped the edge of the table tightly, white knuckles and dirty fingernails from days in a cell. "Jughead, I may be more innocent than guilty, but I've done things. Terrible things… and I'm going to have to answer for my part in that, you understand?"

Jughead sighed. "I know. And this isn't about telling Keller shit, or snitching, or whatever reasons you're keeping your mouth shut. This is about me, your son, asking his father for the truth. I may not like it, but I can't live with the uncertainty anymore. You owe me better than that."

"And what if you can't live with that truth, Jughead?" FP countered angrily. "I've already lost your mom, Jellybean, my freedom. You're all I've got left."

"Is the truth worse than me thinking the last twelve weeks have been nothing but lies and bullshit?" Jughead snapped, his vision blurring as he blinked away tears. "Because that's what it feels like to me. Everything you told me and Betty about Jason. Everything you said on the phone when you begged me to come home. Was any of it true? Did you actually change, or did you just say what I wanted to hear to get me on the damn bus and keep suspicion off of you?"

"I was completely honest about that, Jughead Jones. I have never told you a lie, not once!" His cuffed hands jangled as he tugged at his slicked back hair. "The only thing I've done is choose my words carefully and lie by omission."

"Then stop omitting things, please!"

"Fine." FP sniffed loudly, leaning forward in his chair. "But first you gotta believe me, Jughead. When I told you why I decided to get sober, I was telling you the truth. Seeing Jason dead, knowing you were almost the same age, it destroyed me. I saw your face on that corpse. I had nightmares about opening the freezer and instead of him, it'd be you…"

Jughead's heart ached as his father broke down in tears. The practiced stoicism of the biker king was falling away, leaving a humbled, horrified father in his wake.

"Did you kidnap Jason, like you told Keller?" Jughead prodded gently.

"No, no I didn't," FP replied firmly. "What I told you about Jason approaching me, that was true. The kid needed to get away and I took advantage of his school connections and cut him in on a job. I realize now it was probably Blossom's dope, but I didn't know that at the time. Didn't ask questions when I ran these side jobs, you understand me, boy?"

Jughead nodded. "So Jason came for money, and he was supposed to what, sell heroin?"

"No, just move it from distributor to distributor. The guy he was gonna take it to would then parcel it out and his goons would do the dealing," FP continued. "After Jason leaves, one of the Serpents comes up to me and asks what's up. Why are we letting a rich kid on our turf unanswered, etc. Told him to mind his business, that I was making a strategic move. This guy was also running side jobs, but let me be clear: the Serpents, as a gang, deal in pot only. No guns, no narcotics, none of that shit."

"Mustang," Jughead concluded. "He was the other guy running jobs."

"Yeah." FP shook his head with a huff. "Knew from your manuscript that if anyone was gonna put the pieces together, it'd be you."

"If Jason was running the stuff, why was it in his getaway car?"

"The drop-off date was the Fourth of July." FP's eyes skirted the floor, avoiding his son's stare. "Day before, Mustang says he's got a job offer: kidnap the Blossom kid, collect a ransom of two hundred grand. I tell him to piss off, that I won't link the Serpents to anything like that. But Mustang decided he wanted to get paid. Calls me on the night of the Fourth, says he'll meet me out back. Figure it's the cash for Jason's delivery, but instead…"

"Mustang kidnapped Jason…" Jughead's mind connected the dots. "Who offered Mustang the kidnapping job?"

"He never told me, and that's the God's honest truth," FP insisted. "I cut him off before he could even tell me about it and once it was in motion, I told him I wanted to know as little as possible."

In Jughead's mind, he knew exactly who was behind the kidnapping: Hiram Lodge. Likely a power move to grab the Blossom land he needed in the Southside, although the specifics of how he would have leveraged it remained a mystery.

"So why didn't you let Jason go? You're the Serpent King, Dad. Why not tell Mustang to piss off and set him free?"

"Because by then, the police were already searching the river, and I had no idea where the drugs were," FP explained. "There was no telling what the kid would do after being double-crossed, so I told Mustang to stash him in the basement. Said he was responsible for him being treated well, that he could collect the damn ransom, but I wanted half."

Jughead leaned back in his chair, disgusted. "Jesus, Dad. Are you kidding me?"

"You want the truth or not?"

"Fine." Jughead folded his arms over his chest, biting back an angry tirade. "Then what?"

"I asked for half for two reasons: first of all, it was gonna be my ass in a sling if the drugs weren't found and the kidnapping was discovered. Keller's been after me for years. But second, I had thought of a way to make Jason shut up. I told the kid that I'd look after him, that I would give him fifty grand for his getaway as long as he played along and cooperated. Told him to think of how much fun it would be to screw his dad over for the cash. Jason agreed."

"So Jason thought his dad would pay a ransom, then he would take off with Polly?"

"Yeah. And that job he agreed to was only gonna pay five grand, so fifty was a huge difference. He knew it. And aside from Mustang getting punch happy a couple times, the kid was fed and clothed. I did lie and tell him Polly was fine. Figured I'd help him after this stupid idea of Mustang's played out. We waited a few days, and then Mustang came by, said the guy who hired him had made contact. Blossom said he needed a few days and that he'd come by the night of the tenth. He had a bag with him, but insisted on proof of life before giving up the cash. Mustang agreed… and you know what happened."

Jughead knew. Mustang had let Clifford downstairs, where he retrieved a family heirloom and put a bullet in his son's head.

"The money?"

"Clifford was bluffing. Left us with nothing to ransom and a murder in the basement of the Wyrm. I lost it with Mustang, told him to deal with whoever hired him. I called someone I trusted for help and pulled the video from the DVR. There's a reason I do business in that basement. Hidden camera, just in case."

"Mustang's overdose was a murder, wasn't it?"

"Pretty sure it was, can't prove it. Mustang got paid for the kidnapping, flipped me some of the cash. Enough to pay for the missing heroin and keep that from blowing up." With a heavy sigh, FP leaned back in his chair. "And there it is. The truth. Was it worth it, Jughead?"

"Yeah, yeah it was." Down the corridor, footsteps quietly approached, signalling the end of their twenty minutes. "Because I know that no matter how terrible things got, you were trying to do the right thing. And that counts for something, at least with me. But one more thing: why did you confess to it all, even things like the break-in?"

As the lock clicked in the door, FP leaned as close as he could. "Because he promised you'd end up like Jason if I didn't."

And there it was, what he'd always feared, deep down. His father was going to jail to protect him. His hand shot across the table, reaching for FP. Their fingers grazed even as the deputy ordered them apart.

"Be safe, Jughead. Look after your sister and your mom, alright?"

"I'll do my best," Jughead promised.

FP grinned. "Ain't no doubt in my mind."


"I told my sister about my darkness tonight," Betty whispered.

They were lying together on the floor of the Andrews home, nestled on blankets in front of the TV. It was how they'd spent countless days of their childhood, with bowls of popcorn and snacks in tow. Archie was upstairs, woozy from the pain medication the hospital had given him. Two broken metacarpals meant a cast for the next several weeks—and no football for at least two of them. Fred was still at work, having taken off from the work site at the hospital's call. It was a payroll week, and Fred was determined to ensure his guys were paid promptly.

"How did that go?"

"Polly… She understands it. How the anxiety and the anger can build until you need to do something to ease the pain." Propping herself up on her elbows, Betty stared into his eyes. "She told me details about the times she tried to kill herself. Told Cheryl, too."

"Oh, Betts…"

"The feeling of being alone, of being so lost and afraid she'd never feel anything good again… It breaks my heart, Juggie. And it scares me because there was one time, when I was with Chuck, that I felt that hopelessness, too."

The way her voice cracked as she spoke, the way her body curled in on itself, diminishing her light… It was a knife in his heart. He sat up slowly, reaching for her hand.

"Betty, did you…?"

"Almost." Her voice was scarcely audible as she bowed her head. "I was so tired of being perfect, of never being perfect enough… I thought that maybe… But I didn't do anything. Not like Cheryl or Polly."

"What changed your mind?"

"I got a letter from you. The last one, actually, that you sent. And in it, you told me that my silence was a darkness, that you couldn't keep casting stones into a well without hearing the splash, and part of me wanted to disappear even more than ever. But then I thought of how you would react if I was gone. And I couldn't hurt you that way."

I should have known something was wrong. I should have come back like I was planning to. She needed me. I could have lost her forever.

He pulled her into his arms, clutching her tightly against his chest as she quietly wept. Her head burrowed into the crook of his neck, her breath hot on his skin.

"I knew that someday, I'd find a way to write you, to tell you everything that had happened," she continued. "And you would forgive me, I hoped, for being quiet. But you'd never be okay if I wasn't here at all. I fought back against the darkness because you would have wanted me to. And I'm still here."

"You're still here, Betty. All three of you. And I am forever grateful for it."

"Me too. Because now, we're this." Her lips found his, gently claiming them with a kiss. "And this means everything to me."

"Same." He nestled her closer, pulling her on top of his chest. "You're the one thing keeping me steady in all of this, Betts. I'm stronger than any bullshit this world throws at me as long as you've got my back."

"You've always got me, Juggie."

"And you'll always have me," he vowed.

They fell asleep there, in the dim glow of the television. Fred Andrews, finding them entwined and content, simply smiled and fixed himself a quiet dinner. He had fifty-five minutes to wake Betty in time to make her curfew, after all.

Let them rest, he thought, gently covering them with a throw blanket.


And there it is! My theory: Hiram Lodge is the reason Jason is dead.

I would love to hear what you think, or your own theories on the full events of the murder and how it happened.

ALSO... this story has one more chapter and an epilogue full of the happy ending joy these two deserve. If we can get to 10 reviews before next Wednesday, I'll post the final main chapter early. If we hit 20? I'll give you the epilogue too. It's the fluffy, sexy joy I've been denying our babies, promise.

ALSO ALSO... I'll be posting a slightly smutty, definitely flirty Bughead AU story soon (expect 6-7 chapters max).