Betty and Jughead start to hatch a plan of action to move forward. Jughead moves in. Two childhood friends say goodbye

xxxx

"You got that list of suspects?"

"Rodger."

"And the various theories I wrote."

"Check. And we both wrote it, Betts."

"You read over it. Pens?"

"Obviously. All organised by colour, as per your request."

"Great."

Betty took a step back from where her nose had practically been brushing the red strings of their murder board, which she had been regarding with scrutiny. "So now all we need to do is catch a murderer. No biggie."

She felt the air shift beside her as Jughead crossed his arms and leant against the desk she was perched atop of.
"And don't be so quick as to forget the new time limit we are on," he quipped dryly, chewing his lip as he tapped his fountain pen against his chin thoughtfully.

Betty inclined her head in his general direction, a strained grin added for emphasis. "Well, we wouldn't this to be too easy, right?"

Pause for deep intake of breath; bridge of nose, pinched. Hard. It's all good, it's all good, everything is under control, you are in control of this, deep breath...

"Did you speak to Halona about the...trial?"

Aware of how her voice said the last half of the sentence with some trepidation, Betty anticipated his response. Understandably, it was a sensitive subject for her boyfriend, but a brief sidelong glance at his face showed that he didn't appear too bothered by it. Or, at least, he was hiding how he felt. Which, thinking about it, was probably more likely.

Jughead shrugged. "She reckons a trial will take place around New Years. Something about needing to gather enough evidence to confirm his story and give him enough time to organise a lawyer, should he want to get one. With us currently in, what, mid October? That gives us a good..."
His voice trailed off as he quickly totted up the months. "Two and a half months."

"And we are really looking at two months, possibly less, in case the trial is brought forward for any reason," Betty chipped in.
"Such as, we get to close to the identity of the real killer and they pull some strings."

Jughead looked at her, raised eyebrow in tow. He was rather good at the raised-eyebrow look, if she did say so herself. "You pushing forwad with the theory that it was someone with money and slash or influence?"

The Lodges or the Blossoms.

Betty sighed, crossing her legs and conjuring up her mental checklist. "Well, we believe your dad was protecting something, most likely scenario being he was threatened by someone. And he's part of a gang, Juggy; only someone with a certain kind of power would be able to hold a convincing threat over the Serpents. Like, not even the Sheriff has that much of a hold on them, even if he wanted to. Those on our murder board with the most money and influence are Hiram Lodge and the Blossoms."

"So we need to take a closer look at motives and alibis," Jughead countered. "I understand where you're coming from, but we can't go and start accusing anyone on the basis that they have power." He paused, before filling in what the both of them were thinking, with a softer tone.
"If we did, we wouldn't be much better than everyone else who points fingers at the most convenient target, Betts."

Pausing to take a breath, Betty let her eyes hover the various pictures and tagged names. "I know. Don't worry, I promise not going to fall into that trap like my parents."

She could feel Jughead's eyes on her as she coolly took in all possible suspects they had pinned, a if waiting for her lead. She supposed it was due to her technically being the editor of the Blue and Gold, but she felt a swell of pride wash over her when she realised it was because he looked at her as someone capable to lead their investigation forward. It was nice; no-one had really ever considered her to be an authority figure like that before. Head of a committee, sure, but never because they chose her to lead them. She straightened up, trying her hand at the authoritative role.

"Well, I think we need to work backwards," she proposed. He looked at her expectantly, so she urged that thought forwards. "From FP, I mean. Look into why he was framed-"

"He was framed because he was an easy target, Betts," Jughead said tiredly. "It's not that philosophical."

Betty flashed an amused look at him. "Something isn't philosophical? My, how the world as we know it has come crumbling down around us."
She spread her arms in mock halleluiah.
"Jughead Jones III thinks something isn't philosophical!"

"Shut up," he grumbled, but the tips of his ears gave his shared amusement away, flushing a deep pink.

"And, if you'd let me finish," she merrily pointed out, making Jughead mutter a quick 'sorry'. "You would've realised where my emphasis was. I want to know why he was framed, and not another serpent. Leads me to think, while he may not have killed Jason, he at least has an inclining at who did. Maybe he was part of the clean up, or was at least in contact with the real killer. And, therefore framing him and putting him in jail..." She trailed off, allowing Jughead the moment to follow where her thought process was leading her.

"Then that would get rid of any witnesses, any final connections between the killer and the crime, as well as give the town the culprit they needed for closure," Jughead summed up. "With that closure, chances of anyone further looking into the investigations would be as likely as Veronica becoming a nun."

"Oh, so you think Veronica has a slim chance of becoming a nun?"

"What brought you to the outlandish conclusion that I think that?"

He was glad he asked, because he was rewarded with a fantastic toothy grin from his girlfriend, which she only really did around him, in that very room. Apparently 'toothy-grins' were not apart of the official Betty Cooper trademark.
"Because we are that slim chance that is further looking into an officially closed investigation."

Jughead smiled back, though there was a distinctive lack of warmth from the gesture. There had been a distinctive lack of warmth from a lot of his gestures recently, Betty thought forlornly. Especially considering how cheerful – well, cheerful for Jughead, at least – he'd been not even two weeks ago.

"Well, you know what they say," he said, bringing Betty of her thoughts.

She leaned in closer, a playful smirk twisting across her features, and dropped the pitch of her voice.
"And what do they say, Mr Jones?"
If he thought she had missed the way he shivered from her lowered tone, he was seriously mistaken. Betty made a mental note to use that tone when she wanted him to let her have a sip of his milkshake in future rendezvous at Pop's.

He bit his lip, eyes shining, and looked up through his impossibly long eyelashes at her from where she was perched upon the editor's desk.
"That anything is possible?"

Betty snorted slightly, wrinkling her nose jokingly at his choice of words.
"I hate to break it to you, Jug, but I think you should stick to writing your dialogue. And murder mysteries; romantic one-liners aren't really your forte."

Jughead tilted his head in the perfect parody of innocent confusion. "Why, Miss Cooper, are you implying that I'm no good at being romantic?"

A polished and clean manicured index finger carefully rested atop her bottom lip, continuing their private satirical performance , in the exact pantomime of exuberant contemplation. "Hmmm... my professional opinion is that that mouth of yours can be romantic when following my lead. And when it's not spouting lines that would be better suited for a 90's rom-com."

She moved to better kiss him, tilting his chin up gently in what was fast becoming almost second nature. It certainly hadn't been their first kiss in the Blue and Gold office, but there were definitely elements of their current lip-lock that was similar to their first shared moment, all the way back in Betty's bedroom. Most notably, that mid way through, Betty's eyes flew open.
"I almost forgot something!"

Jughead sighed good-naturedly, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "Is this sudden moment of clarity going to happen every time we kiss?"

"No!" She protested. "But it's really important, honest. We need to talk to Joaquin."

The more amicable expression Jughead had been sporting was swiftly exchanged for a face that Betty (and the rest of the world) was far more familiar with: moody. It almost made her regret bringing them back down to earth with the talk of murder and suspects and lies.

"Good point. What was it that Halona told us she had been asked to tell him? Forget the plan, or something like that?"

"Yeah," Betty confirmed. "Sounds like he and FP were both connected to the to this whole thing, in some way." Her heart sank a little, feeling for her other best friend.
"Kevin is going to be heartbroken if Joaquin was involved," she said softly, as though privately voicing her thoughts.

"I know." Jughead agreed, which touched her. It hadn't been long since his disastrous birthday, where he had said he didn't consider Kevin a friend. It was nice to see him taking hesitant steps to including Kevin as his friend after that.
He laced his fingers through hers. "But we need to get to the bottom of this. And that doesn't necessarily mean that he assisted in murder, just that he knows more than he's letting on."

In an attempt to bring the mood back to the light-heartedness it had only moments ago possessed, Jughead hopped up on the desk next to Betty, and bumped shoulders with her. "Hey. It's all going to work out."
She leant into his frame, grateful for the familiar grounding of his plaid and Levi jacket attire.
"I'm just tired of everyone in this town lying, Juggie," she mumbled, words muffled from the fabric. "This murder goes far beyond what either of us thought. I just want the truth, even if it means we have to attempt to solve this ourselves."

"Attempt?" Jughead kissed her forehead. "That's not the attitude of my Betty Cooper. We are going to solve this case, Betts. Trust me. We'll do this in true Hitchcockian fashion, my delightful Hitchcockian blonde."

Betty giggled into his chest, breathing in the familiar pine-and-smoke-and-soap scent of her boyfriend. "Of course you turned to making a film reference."

"Of course."

"Ever the charmer."

"I do try."

xxxx

Jughead shifted around in his bed, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't that it was an uncomfortable bed, per say, but rather just still very unfamiliar. A thought rolled around in his head, annoyingly so, which he just couldn't shake out with all his tosses and turns.
Clearly the Jones' were just not cut out for luxury. Typical.

Finally giving up on an attempt to sleep, he sat up abruptly, muttering curses under his breath at the one time he actually gets a decent place to lie down is the one time he can't get to freaking sleep.

The mirror on the wall opposite his bed still made him jump, his dark, shadowy reflection with hair sticking up in every conceivable direction, creating an effectively creepy outline. He decided right then and there to reposition it. Because he could. Because it was his room. Which, though maybe it shouldn't'e been, was weird thought in of itself. He'd never really had his own room before (he wasn't counting the drive in. Technically it had been owned by the town rather than him)

Moving in with a near stranger is perhaps never one of the wisest decisions. And, as Jughead kept minimally scolding himself, something he should've learnt by now. Not to say he had any prior experience with doing such a obvious faux par, but he had rather hoped that he would be able to flaunt a vague hint of common sense in the town which decidedly had none.

But, as the other part of his mindful conflict reminded him, he was getting pretty desperate. And he'd spoken to his dad, who assured him that Halona was fine and very safe, which should've subdued his wariness. This, however, was coming from a man in jail. So it was a bit more ambiguous to trust the judgement of a man who had ended up in jail. Even Betty, who was practically famous for being Little-Miss-Get's-On-With-Everyone, had cautiously asked him if he was actually insane going to stay with someone who had been a resident in Riverdale for all of a week. He answered her with the same answer he gave himself; he didn't really have anywhere else to go.

Anyways, it didn't matter. He was living with his dad's sort-of-ex-girlfriend, and his half-brother, and that was that. Actually, Max was pretty incredible. He'd missed acting like an older brother.

Rolling out of his bed, he slumped across his room with only one activity in mind to help him get to sleep; making a snack. Or maybe a meal, he wasn't particularly fussy.

Padding down the stairs as softly as he could, he let a fingertip trail down the banister in silent awe, admiring the simple exquisiteness of it all (just thinking that made him think of Betty, as he often called her exquisite. After hearing she didn't like being called perfect, the two of them had started a game where they would use ridiculous terms of affection for each other. It was pleasant.)

As he reached the bottom of the stares, he cast the chandelier, the multiple expensive paintings and plush rugs dubious glances. Talk about sticking out like a saw thumb.

After a moment of private observation in the entrance hall, however, Jughead's ears pricked up a the soft disturbance of the ghostly silence that had settled over the house like a ghoulish comforter.

Music. There was music playing. Ever so barely, but definitely present. As

Creeping closer and closer to the kitchen, he realised it was steadily getting louder, and felt his body instinctively tense up, ready to fulfil his fight or flight response to the unknown, potential intruder (it took a bit longer for his rationality to kick in, which was tiredly pointing out that if an intruder was playing music, then they should probably consider a different occupation).

Tentatively, Jughead pushed the door open, but immediately relaxed when he saw the familiar outlines of the only two other obvious entities that could be in his kitchen – Max sitting on a breakfast bar stool slurping a glass of water, Halona with a bowl of cereal as she inspected the cupboards. Starting at the creak of the door, Halona spun around quickly, dropping a spoon she was holding out of surprise, eyes wide. She too visibly relaxed once she saw who was in the door way.

"God, sorry, you surprised me." Then her eyebrows knitted together, as she looked at him concerned. "We didn't wake you, did we?"

"Nope," Jughead said truthfully, poking Max playfully in the cheek, causing him to squeal a giggle, as he headed to the fridge. "Couldn't sleep."

Halona retrieved her spoon from the floor, and throwing it into the sink before sinking into the stool beside Max. "Us neither."

A slightly awkward silence broke out between the two of them, which Jughead tried to cover up by pretending to be fascinated by the fridge's contents (milk and a few eggs). He opted for the milk, ears picking up more distinctive parts of the music that had been playing as he went to make a bowl of cereal.

"Chris Isaac, huh?"

Halona glanced at him, mildly impressed. "Good ear, you got there."

"Good taste," he retorted, and he plonked himself onto the last breakfast bar stool, opposite from his gracious new sort-of guardian. "One of my favourite songs."

She hesitantly shot him a small smile. "One of mine, too."

Their relationship was a strange one, to say the least. Neither really particularly knew how to act around each other, with Halona opting for a half-hearted attempt at a sort of step mum, and Jughead stubbornly sticking to treating her how he saw her; like the girl who was just a few years older than himself who had got off with his dad a couple years ago. Not that he treated her unkindly. Just with more trepidation.

For a blissful passage, all that could be heard was the soft harmonic warbles of Chris Isaac and the appreciative chewing of cereal. Jughead made a careful mental note – silences were less awkward if they both ate during them.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Jug."

He lifted his head from where he was slumped over his bowl. Halona had her head buried into her hands, curly copper locks sticking up like little corkscrews.

Swallowing his mouthful of overly sugary mush, Jughead shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't really think you did, if I'm honest."

She lifted her head, tiredly smiling a knowing, wry smile. "You mean I don't make a convincing functioning adult?"

He felt a small grin tug at his lips. "I could pretend to be surprised, if it would help keep your ego intact."

She nodded, lips pressed together humorously. "That would be very considerate of you, thank you."

The music playlist shuffled on; Tracy Chapman strummed into existence.

"Why did you come? You left the hassle that is Riverdale years ago, I know not so many are that lucky, and you still came back?" That was something that Jughead still didn't properly understand. Given the chance, he would like to think that he would be well clear of the town for a fresh start in a bigger city. Maybe. Or maybe that was wistful thinking. He chose to think more optimistically for once.

Halona frowned. "Because otherwise you would've been carted off to foster care and Forsythe would've been falsely sent to prison."

"But you don't know us. Not really."

A flicker of an uncomfortable expression flashed briefly across Halona's features, a flicker of hurt, and Jughead felt a little bad for saying that. Nevertheless, he stuck to what he said.

"I...came..." Halona started slowly, rubbing her bare arms where they had started to get goosepimples. "Because I knew I could do something to help. And, although I haven't seen Forsythe in years, that's true, and I wasn't expecting to return...at all, really, after the both of you had called me, I knew I could do something to help. And I knew that if I just ignored it, pretended that I couldn't help, that I would regret it.
"Besides," she continued, smoothing Max's curls down. "I didn't want Max to have his Dad in prison." She shot him a knowing look.
"And I didn't want that for you, either."

The music shuffled again. Roy Orbison.

"Thank you." Jughead was surprised himself at how sincere that had come out. "Really. Thank you. For everything"

She regarded him fondly (if a little condescendingly, but he didn't point it out as to not lose the touching moment). "No problem."

They clinked cereal bowls.

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

xxxx

"I just popped in to say goodbye."

FP waved his hand as though greeting a monarch. "So blessed by your presence, I am."

Mary snorted. "Well that would be a first."

She crossed the room to face him. "We've really messed up this time, haven't we Pen?"

FP scratched at the rough stubble on his chin. "Been a long time since you've called me that."

"I suppose it has."

"Not so long that I've forgotten yours."

"Don't even try it, Pen."

"You know I ain't gonna, calm down."

"'Ain't'. Jesus, how the tables have turned." Mary dragged over a bitterly cheap foldup chair, and sat herself facing her old friend through unforgiving bars.
"Remember when you could tell me off whenever I used slang? You especially hated it when I said 'ain't'."

"Yeah, 'cause you said it all the flipping time, just to piss me off."

"And yet here we are, in a strange twist of irony."

"Well, we're ain't kids no more. A lot's changed."

"Tell me about it – Mr Lord Muck here grew up to start speaking like how I did."

"Pfft, you ain't sounded like this! Your folks woulda skinned you if u spoke like this, all common an' the like."

Mary allowed herself to grin with him, allowed herself to reminisce about what had been, despite the circumstances.

"I'm almost nostalgic for it all."

"Crikey, are you? I sure as hell ain't."

"Almost nostalgic, Pen. Almost."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"I'm sorry."

"Hmm?"

"You wouldn't be...well, in here, if I hadn't-"

"Christ, don't tell me you're blaming yourself for all this. This was all Cliff, pure and simple. Well. Maybe a bit of Lady Blossom, too. I ain't gonna put it past her."

"He's always been a slimy git, hasn't he? As for Lady Blossom... God, it's almost as if she's a whole other person ."

"Well, that's not that far off..."

"Shut it, Pen."

"I'm shuttin' it, I'm shuttin' it... How much longer d'ya reckon?"

"What?"

"'Til they sniff you out?"

"Until who sniffs me out?"

"Them kids. I'm telling you, their gettin' far to close for their own good, doin' better than the fuckin' Sheriff, 'though that's not hard to beat."

"Why do you think I'm leaving now? I tried to persuade Archie to come, but he's too tubborn to leave Fred behind."

"Sounds like him, yeah. You know, you can't run from this forever, P."

"I know."

"But you're still gonna."

"For now."

She stood up to leave, neatly folding up the chair. "Tell your fiancée I said hello."

"She's not..."

Mary waved a hand, cutting him off. "Until next time, Pen. Hopefully, not like this."

FP gave a two fingered salute. "One can only hope, P-."

She stopped her path to the exit, twisting her head around to glare at him. "Don't you dare."

"Just messin' with you."

"Well stop it. Goodbye"

And with a swish of her modestly priced coat, she was gone.

xxxx

NOTES:

I actually thought I would have the whole story finished by now. I was evidently wrong.

But Season 2 tomorrow (exciting), and with new starts, I'm taking a brief moment to say something that I feel needs to be addressed a bit more in this fandom. Actually, a couple things.

First off: So I've sort of been in this fandom since like early February, so pretty near it's inception, and I've seen this time, and time, and time again.

You may ship characters on this show – cool. Nice. Wonderful. I certainly do.

Shitting on people for who they ship is not cool nor what this fandom should represent.

Whether you like Bughead, Beronica, Jarchie, Barchie, Cheronica, Varchie, whatever it is, be respectful to others who will not have the same ship as you.

Secondly: shipping the characters is fun. Great. Nice. You can ship the actors behind those characters, as long as you are respectful of their privacy.

Taking photos without those being photographed being aware they are being photographed, when they are in their private time, so not on screen or if you ask for a photo and they say yes, is not cool nor what this fandom should represent.

I'm sure most people know which two actors in particular I'm talking about, and to my knowledge both have said they don't like people taking photos of them without their knowledge and have asked people not to do that. And even if I'm wrong, and they haven't explicitly said that, it is the most uncomfortable and freaky thing, someone you've never even met taking your photo without your knowledge to only then find out later once photographs you didn't even know existed are plastered all over the internet.

These actors are playing very beloved characters, and playing relationships which people adore. However, taking sneaky photos of your favs without their knowledge is not respecting their wishes, and in turn, not respecting them as individuals and their right to privacy.

I'm sorry for the long note, but I felt that there needed to be a little PSA. This fandom should respect others within the community and respect it's creators, because without them, there would be no show or fandom to speak of.

Any thoughts, comments or concerns are welcome x

Alex