Author's note: Love this chapter because not one, but TWO moments between F.P. and Betty...and not all of them are warm and fuzzy! Jughead's love for his father runs deep. Also, heavy angst but so, so much love. Enjoy.

01.03.2015

They're talking about Jughead's New Years, how he and Betty spent it in Veronica's Greenwich apartment to avoid the tourist buzz. The visits have been regular since Jughead's birthday. It feels more open, and F.P. thinks to himself its because his boy is finally able to be the man he wanted. He's less guarded, less afraid of what others will think of his choices ever since he escaped Riverdale.

Which is why F.P. is dreading what he has to tell his son.

He's a month shy of four years in the clink. He's mostly avoided any major issues, and is just skating through his sentence under the radar. So when he'd gone in for his annual physical on the 30th of December, he'd been confident it would be routine. When the crotchety prison doctor had unsympathetically relayed the news, F.P.'s mouth had dried out, his only thoughts going to the boy that now sat in front of him.

"So, Dad, what about you? Everything's fine, you need money for your commissary?"

He waves him off, "Nah, kid I'm just fine."

His son lifts the corner of his lip, and F.P. flinches.

"Actually, there is something I gotta tell you, Jug."

01.31.2015

F.P. isn't really sure what to say. Of all the things he thought he'd face in prison, an angry Betty Cooper is not one of them.

She's clutching the phone to her ear, and looks determinedly through the glass. Its been four years since he'd seen her last, and honestly he hadn't really paid much mind to her before. She carries a lot more meaning now than she had back then, he thinks. Her blonde hair is long and loose, not the tight ponytail Alice used to insist upon. She's grown up too, and looks so much like her mother when she glares that he's a little taken aback. There's a thin chain around her neck, the end just barely concealed by her baby pink sweater.

He'd accepted the visit only because he thought something might of happened to Jug, if his wife was visiting him. Ever since their visit at the beginning of the year, they hadn't spoken. No phone calls, no visits; F.P. hadn't seen Jughead as angry as he had been that day since, well since ever.

"Mr. Jones, why are you doing this?"

F.P. sighs exasperatedly, "I'm not doing anything. I didn't exactly plan for this. It just…there isn't a right answer here. It's shitty, for everyone. And call me F.P., Betty, please."

"Well, you are," she shifts, a little pink from the embarrassment of being so formal. "You are doing something. You're hurting him by not letting him help you. And, look, honestly, I don't want him to do it either, but he's terrified to lose you, F.P."

He slams his hand on the metal counter, and Betty jumps. The guard behind him clears his throat pointedly, and F.P. lets out a breath to refocus. He hasn't lost his temper in a long time.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. But, I can't fucking lose him. He's too stubborn to see that though- he's my son, Betty, he's all I've got. All this- everything I did was for him to be safe. I will not risk him again."

"Don't you think I've tried to explain that too?" She's leaning forward, her voice heated, and he sees the same turmoil he's been feeling reflected in her eyes. "He wants to help you, even if it means risking himself. Your liver is failing because of the shit you did to yourself. And maybe you want to punish yourself some more, and waste away in prison. Fine, whatever. But Jughead wants you to live. He wants you to get out, and be his dad again. I don't want him to do it either, not because I don't want you to get better, but because I can't fucking lose him either, F.P. I won't make it with out him."

Her inhale is shaky, "But Juggie won't make it without you. So I need you to let him help you."

F.P. is shaking his head, angry. At this girl pleading with him to risk his son for himself, at his son for wanting to do so. At himself, for having gone down a rabbit hole of alcoholism all those years ago that led to this moment. He's serving 10-15 and now he's in the second stage of liver failure. He needs a donor organ, or he'll continue to decline. The lack of appetite and the sluggishness he'd thought was depression, wasn't. His body is betraying him. How fitting.

But Jug, he wants to help. Wants to give him half his fucking liver.

Betty sighs. So much like her mother. He wonders if she cried as softly as Alice did when he told her.

"Just talk to him, hear him out. I won't lose him because of you, Mr. Jones."

He looks up at the formality, and catches his breath. Her neckline has shifted, and at the end of the chain sits a small silver wedding band resting against her chest.

02.10.2015

There's a steady beeping in F.P.'s ear as he comes to slowly. Cold metal circles his wrists, an immediate reminder of his station as an inmate. There's a strange soreness in his side, not quite pain, but it gives the impression that it soon will be. He makes out the guards as his vision clears; there's someone in the chair to his left but they're curled away from him, blonde hair ruffled against the chair back. The doctor looks up from writing his chart and begins to speak to him.

"Mr. Jones, your surgery was a success. Now as we discussed before, you'll need to keep the incision…"

He drifts off as he speaks.

When he wakes again, he's not alone. He can hear the all too familiar sound of a Cooper woman dotting. He turns his head and wants to cry with relief at the sight of Jughead, hooked up to the same machines he is, looking a little rough but alive. Betty sits at his side, brushing his hair out of his face as he smiles up at her groggily.

Before F.P. can say anything to interrupt, there is a voice at the door, "Mrs. Jones? Dr. Wilkinson can answer your questions now."

He's a little confused, until Betty stands up and kisses Jughead on the forehead before following the nurse out. Mrs. Jones. He'll have to finally confront Jug about this whole marriage thing when he's not so out of it.

F.P. follows her with his eyes, and its behind her in the hallway that he sees the briefest glimpse of Alice engrossed in the phone in her hand, before Betty shuts the door behind her.

"Dad?"

He turns back to his son and he's overwhelmed. He feels the tears welling up in his eyes, but blinks them back. There's no words for what his son has given him, or for how much he doesn't deserve it. F.P. reaches between the bed, wrist jerking annoyingly when the slightly longer than average handcuffs limit his extension. Jughead understands, and slides all the way to the edge of the bed with a grimace. He reaches his long arm out and their fingers meet.

F.P. falls asleep to the rhythmic beeping, gripping Jug's hand. He dreams of the inky patterns on his son's skin.

07.04.2015

Its a weird day for a visit. Technically, it was five years ago today Jason Blossom went missing. He wouldn't be killed for another week or so, but this was the beginning of the end.

F.P. tries not to think about it with his son sitting in front of him. The months since the transplant had been rough; there was medication and dietary changes and pain. But he's doing fine. And so is Jug, even with half a liver.

The visits are regular and the phone calls long. Sharing an organ seems to have done their relationship good. F.P. hasn't brought up Betty since she visited; hell, he never even told Jug she came. Something tells him Betty had though; based on how Jughead's talked about her, it doesn't seem like there's much unsaid between the two of them.

He tells F.P. about their new place though. A one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. They got a cat, a little orange tabby named Caramel. Jughead tells him how Betty is going to graduate a whole year early, in the spring, thanks to all her high school APs and summer classes. Jughead tells him that his own degree is going swimmingly; he's majoring in Creative Writing, so it figures. He keeps him updated on the publishing process, promises a print copy will be coming in the beginning of next year. They never really bring up what Jughead did for F.P.

10.07.2015

"Hi, Mr. Jones."

F.P.'s brow jumps. He'd gotten an unscheduled call from Jughead, on the day he was supposed to visit. "Betty, I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah well, I just thought I'd tell you Juggie won't be making his visit today. He's really sorry."

He hums at the nickname, "He okay?"

She laughs lightly into the phone, "If you asked him right now, he'd say he's dying but he's just dramatic. And hungover. He'll be fine after a nice long nap and some food. This is what happens when you let Archie take point on your 21st birthday."

F.P. is laughing suddenly. He'd wished Jug a happy early birthday on Thursday, anticipating this visit. He hadn't even thought about his son raging on his 21st birthday in the city with his best friend. He's so amused, he only barely hears through the phone a faint, groggy Jughead mumbling fucking-A Betts, you're so loud.

"Well, at least we know his liver still works."

Betty laughs with him this time, and Jughead groans loudly in the background.