Another chapter! (finally!) It's been quite a time, but nothing improves morale quite like a new chapter. :)
LeafGreene01, I would be interested in hearing the expert analysis as well! All of the dynamics are so in flux (alive and moving) with each plot point that I am constantly surprised as one thing happens and I realize all of the echoes that are about to go through the social system. I am also glad you enjoyed FP's (Skeet's) musical contribution - and I love your Banks theory. :) That seems like solid analysis to me!
Woodscolt215, it's great to hear from you! I'm also glad you liked that reference... it felt very FP to me, in that moment. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
Natureliesbeneath, I love how attuned you are to the shifts in Jughead's attitudes and responses to others, and what that might mean for the plot. His pushback with Brand, his eagerness with Betty, his horror/embarrassment with FP - the ground is shifting, and some of it might be minor, while other shifts might have a whole lot behind them. I'm curious to see where he lands on things, too, and I was thrilled that you singled out the line that just came out while I was writing - much the way Jughead blurted it without thinking, it was my first instinct for how to describe things as well. I'm worried that I've missed your birthday, but I hope this is close enough. I've been sending you good vibes all week!
Welcome back, Skyrider45! I really enjoyed seeing your thoughts as you caught up on multiple chapters in sequence. Thank you for sharing so generously! I love that you felt exhausted by the pace of the early/busy morning; that makes me feel accomplished (as a writer, though - not in any universe as a real life morning person, lol). Sarah as Lois Lane is a great mental image! I'd have to really think about which portrayal fits her, but I think there are some cool parallels and I think you may be right about Brand agreeing. :-D And yes, the waking up and writing thing might be semi(completely)-autobiographical. Write what I know, at least when it comes to writing. :-D I might pose Alice (Carter) as Jimmy Olsen, as I think about dynamics, but I am not sure where that would place Betty in the re-casting of the group. Thank you so much for the good wishes! I am far more rested today than at any point in May or June, I think, so it worked. Huzzah!
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
Jughead felt swept away in the tide of emotions that slammed into him and Brand when they joined the band backstage.
Everyone was talking at once, and somehow they still seemed to be listening to one another and responding to each other, like being this keyed up – this wired – had given them actual superpowers.
Jughead took up his position, near the door and on the edge of the action, and allowed himself to simply observe everything and enjoy the contact high of exuberant energy.
Agent Sarah was there, too, and it seemed like none of the awkwardness of the earlier confrontation had dissipated… but it also looked muted, and as though she had no intention of confronting either of them.
In fact, Jughead reflected as he watched her move toward Brand, there was an odd charge that was almost electric between her and Davies. It was not simple anger; it looked like Agent Sarah's wrath had been mixed with something more complicated.
Curious.
Brand looked surprised, too, so Jughead figured that was vindication: his analysis was solid.
The two agents stood side by side, both with their backs to the wall and their eyes scanning the room vigilantly. Agent Sarah looked over at Jughead a few times, and while she was definitely displeased, her expression remained stoic and professional instead of worried or questioning.
Alright, then. Jughead wouldn't question it – instead, he'd question Brand later, in private.
"How are you doing?" Mary Andrews had moved alongside Jughead and apparently had decided that it was safe for his cover for her to chat with him. She seemed a lot more relaxed now that the first concert had ended and they were about to head back to the hotel to sleep, but Jughead had noticed that she was particularly cautious about everyone's cover stories.
That probably made sense, given that Mrs. A's work often dealt with privileged information and worst case scenarios.
"I'm good. I'm horrified that they'll let just anyone onstage, but otherwise…" Jughead gave Mrs. A a pointed look.
She chuckled. "Oh, you didn't get fair warning, huh?"
"Nope."
"He didn't mean to embarrass you." Mary shrugged, but her expression was sympathetic. Finally, someone who was at least trying to understand. "He was really in his element, though, wasn't he?"
"Some things are just not meant to be witnessed by one's kid." Jughead grimaced.
"In case it makes you feel any better, Fred's been texting me nonstop since someone leaked the news. There are videos popping up all over the place." Mrs. Andrews nodded toward Archie, who had finished changing into street clothing but looked like he was nowhere near being calm enough to hold still.
A slow, evil grin crossed Jughead's face as he regarded his best friend and considered whether having company would make the misery better. All signs pointed to yes. "Re-eally?"
"Onstage is not just FP's element, you know." Mary's smile was mischievous. She looked like she'd really enjoy seeing her ex-husband in full rock star mode.
Jughead could respect that, even if he was still cringing over seeing FP singing in public.
"Do me a favor," Jughead said with a small smile.
"What's that?" Mary was smiling as well.
"If Fred does come and does want to sing… work it out so it's a surprise for Archie." Jughead had to work to keep his smile from turning into a wicked grin.
Mary laughed. "Well. We'll have to see." She patted Jughead on the shoulder and then moved away to speak to Alice about something
Fair enough. Jughead nodded to himself and was content to resume scanning the room – mimicking Brand and Sarah – and gathering observations for his article.
Then a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
"Cyrano?"
Jughead was startled to hear his new tour nickname in his father's voice.
It made sense in an instant, though. Mary was not the only one who had been surprisingly good at maintaining cover stories. Jughead had been watching warily as FP had begun making friends and contacts with basically everyone on the road crew in every capacity, and how swiftly he'd become a central figure on the tour.
Maybe he should have felt reassured, but somehow it made Jughead's skin crawl: FP Jones, gang leader, could pick up a following anywhere, it seemed… without even trying.
Or maybe, Jughead told himself sternly, FP was trying. Maybe this was hard work and his father was breaking his back to maneuver his way into every network of people in order to better support the tour and to more effectively protect Archie and the band. That was possible.
"Penn! Don't make me ask you twice," some guy dressed in stagehand black leaned into the backstage area to summon FP.
FP flipped the guy off without so much as looking over.
The man cackled in response. "If your drink gets warm, you'll have nobody to blame but yourself."
This time Jughead couldn't help it: he cringed.
"Hi there, kid." The man didn't leave, even though Jughead was pretty sure that his dad flipping someone off was tantamount to a dismissal. Instead, the stranger seemed to key in on Jughead's reaction to the adults' exchange. "You must be Cyrano. Who else would keep Penn away from the biggest perk of the job?"
"Let me guess," Jughead said dryly, before he could stop himself, "free booze?"
"You didn't tell me he was smart. Why didn't you tell me he's so smart, Penn?" The man was cackling again, this time at Jughead's expense. What a sparkling personality he had.
"Well. Could be that I didn't know he was a frigging genius." FP smirked meanly down at Jughead. "You've been hiding that genius IQ, boy… really well."
The man laughed again.
Jughead wasn't entirely sure what his body was doing, but he suddenly felt about two inches tall as he looked up at his dad's expression. He hadn't seen that look on FP's face in… well, okay, he'd seen it directed at Brand relatively recently, in bad moments, but it had not been directed at Jughead since before everything. Before Brand. Before FP had gotten sober.
Sober. Jughead felt like he'd been punched as he thought through the possibility that this cover might be the one to get his dad back off of the wagon.
"I need the kid."
A new hand dropped onto Jughead's other shoulder, and suddenly he was in the center of the wolf pack.
"He pulling his weight, Davies?" FP asked, taking a step back and releasing Jughead's shoulder as if to demonstrate to Brand that FP was recognizing a stronger claim to the teenager. "If he isn't, you know you can always-,"
"Thanks, but I've got it handled." Brand smiled tightly, his eyes cold.
FP looked amused and began moving out of the room to join his friend from the road crew. "Good, good. Glad to hear it."
FP gave Jughead a sharp nod, the movement so severe that it seemed like a warning, and then he left the room.
Jughead felt slightly disoriented by FP's behavior even as Brand drew him toward the band and Agent Sarah.
"FP too?" Sarah met them in the middle of the room, and she suddenly looked worried again.
"Sarah," Brand's tone was low and intense, but Jughead could hear a strain in his voice.
It was really bothering his godfather that Agent Sarah was upset.
"In the hospital you said that you trust me," Brand continued. "How many times-,"
Sarah looked down at Jughead. She frowned, and then her eyes met Brand's with new determination. "Use me instead."
Brand looked startled. "What?"
Man, their op sec was sucking today.
"You and FP. For whatever you're trying to put in the water. That you're tough guys, bad boys, whatever. Could you just push around the female employee instead?" Sarah cocked her head and, oh yeah, there was her anger: Agent Sarah's body was tense and radiated a challenge.
Brand's posture shifted, probably unconsciously, to match the threat.
If he hadn't known both of them, Jughead would not have been surprised to learn that the agents were about to throw down. And in that he saw an opportunity, even though it meant blowing the rest of their cover to Agent Sarah.
That wasn't a big deal, really. After all, the plan was likely to fall apart anyway if Jughead didn't take a chance.
Jughead blurted it out before Brand could stop him: "It wouldn't work. You're too much of an alpha."
Brand's eyebrows shot up and then his expression went abruptly – completely – blank.
Sarah's mouth hung open for a second or two before she pushed Brand's shoulder lightly. "Stop laughing. I can tell when you're laughing, Brandon Davies."
Brand blinked, and Jughead caught a glimpse of what Sarah had seen: Brand was fighting laughter, it was true.
"I have nothing to add; you heard the kid," Brand managed, even though there was mirth in his voice that he could not quite squelch. "Now stop trying to mess things up. Please." Brand made an obvious effort to relax his stance. "We've got cats to herd back to the hotel."
Sarah's expression softened and this time when she looked from Jughead to Brand it looked a whole lot like she suspected that they were teaming up to play a joke on her.
Jughead sneaked a look at Brand, who quirked his eyebrows in reply: it was apparent that Brand was confused about Agent Sarah's reaction too, but he was signaling that they should roll with it for now.
Sarah watched the silent exchange between Brand and Jughead with satisfaction, as though it confirmed everything she had suspected.
Okay. It wasn't necessarily bad if she thought that their cover story was a joke, just as long as Sarah didn't convince anyone else on tour that it was an elaborate prank.
"Just keep acting mad at them, okay?" Jughead said quietly. "Maybe even play it up a little."
Brand's eyes went wide and he shook Jughead by the shoulder; he looked like he was seriously contemplating gagging his godson for the remainder of the tour.
"Oh, don't tempt me," Sarah said coolly, giving Brand a warning look – causing Brand to drop Jughead's shoulder instantly – and then she brushed past them both and joined the band.
Brand looked down at Jughead. "That was dangerous and stupid."
Well, yes. But Jughead hadn't seen a lot of other options. He remained silent, waiting for Brand to work the anger out of his system.
Brand let a long breath out. "And I may never understand how her mind works."
Good. If they were discussing Agent Sarah, then Jughead's mutiny was no longer the subject at hand.
"Are you okay?" Brand suddenly zeroed in on Jughead again. "Your dad barely said anything and you looked like you were about to try digging a hole through the floor to escape."
"He, um, surprised me. But I'm good." Jughead was surprised to realize that he was. "Why did Agent Sarah change her mind about you? She was loaded for bear," Jughead heard Brand's phrase come out of his mouth and made a wry face, "but now-,"
"She…" Brand shook his head as if attempting to clear his thoughts and frowned. "My best guess is that she doesn't believe I'd hurt you. Not after everything. So she came up with another explanation for what she's seeing. A game."
Huh. Agent Sarah was pretty sharp, Jughead thought, glancing over to where she was talking to Veronica.
"Which is not a bad idea." Brand's tone took on a hint of interest.
Jughead gave his godfather a sharp look. That tone usually meant something complicated – perhaps more bad than good – was about to follow.
"What do you say? You interested in trying out a new game?" Brand asked with a smug smirk.
"And what on earth would possess me to say yes to that?" Jughead asked, his eyes wide with incredulity. "The depth of strategy – the addictive properties – or maybe the sheer replayability of all the other games you've invented for me?"
"Yup." Brand's eyes gleamed. "And also… because you don't back down from a challenge, killer."
Jughead wasn't sure what Brand was getting at, but he found that he was leaning forward when he responded: "Game on."
So maybe whatever Brand thought of him was not wholly wrong.
00000
Veronica stared down at her phone, frozen. It felt like her brain had crashed. She was relieved when a shadow fell over her and Betty draped an arm around her shoulders, jolting her brain out of shock and allowing her to move once more.
"Are you ready to head back to the hotel?" Betty asked as she peered down to see what Veronica was looking at. "We can go over all of the early coverage there. On a larger screen. But I know it's going to be good – I mean, great. You were awesome."
"Uh, well-," Veronica was still having a hard time processing what she was seeing on the screen, so she simply handed the phone to Betty. "Did I type something wrong? Or is this actually… is this really what it looks like?"
Betty looked down confidently at the phone.
Then she looked surprised.
Then she looked confident again as she typed, then deleted, then typed again.
Finally Betty looked up at Veronica, her expression confused – and concerned. "Um, I think this might possibly be-,"
"Veronica! You've gone viral!" Archie's voice interrupted them, shouting exultantly. "Damian Pin was in the balcony and he live tweeted everything. He loved you!"
"How did Archie figure that all out so quickly from this mess of posts?" Betty asked in consternation as she continued to type and run searches on Veronica's phone. "I mean, I don't think he's wrong, but-,"
Veronica tuned out Betty's efforts to make sense of the coverage, both mainstream and viral, in favor of trying to process what Archie had just said.
Damian Pin had come to their concert? And he had live tweeted it? And somehow said something about Veronica specifically, as opposed to commenting about the band as a whole – or about the headliners, Breaking Fast?
"And there's more good news, I think," Gunnar added as he stared down at his own phone. "He said the stupid VR special effects are so bad that they're good. He's recommending that everyone come see for themselves and he's got a whole string of selfies showing them off. The concert tickets are already trending."
Damian Pin was a YouTube star known for bizarre hot takes that his near-rabid followers would take up with a vengeance and try with a cult-like fervor to force into the mainstream. It had apparently been a niche thing – a strange hobby – for years, until the numbers of followers on Damian's social media platforms had started making a few companies sit up and take notice. A few investors had followed suit, tracking Damian's hot takes and using them to anticipate – guess at, really – market trends.
That had been enough for the cycle to become self-perpetuating, and then it grew when more companies and investors began watching his content. At this point, keeping track of Damian Pin was part of keeping up with the news cycle for those who were interested in consumer trends.
Which Veronica was.
"Wow, he likes you, V," Betty's voice broke through Veronica's thoughts. "He really, really likes you."
"We're gonna sell a ton of merch!" Alice crowed, pumping one fist in the air.
Gunnar immediately began teasing Alice about her priorities, and Alice began loudly quoting statistics at him.
She was probably right.
Veronica shot Jughead a glance, though, recalling the weeks – months – of press coverage that had followed her friend's bout with fame.
Sneaking into and out of school. Photographers stalking him. Brand acting like the situation was life-threatening.
Veronica's eyes slid over to the bodyguard, who was looking right at her.
With a jolt, Veronica realized that she was seeing a mirror of her own worries in Brand's expression.
And then Agent Sarah was grasping Veronica by the shoulders and steering her toward the exit from their backstage area.
"Wait – what–," Veronica tried and failed to grab her backpack as she was marched out of the room.
"We need you out of here before this has any chance of becoming a mob scene," Agent Quinn said calmly but firmly into Veronica's ear. "Brandon will get your stuff. He'll get the rest of the band to the hotel. But for now I need to get you out of here. Before this hits any harder."
Veronica's eyes widened and she caught Betty's stricken expression just as the door closed behind them.
Betty was still holding Veronica's phone.
And the whole band was still changing, packing up their gear, celebrating – while Veronica was pulled aside, cordoned off, already trapped in some measure by a fame that she had no control over and had no way of anticipating – or responding to.
"Breathe." Sarah sounded a little breathless herself, which made the advice – the command – sound disingenuous. But it was good advice; Veronica took a deep breath. "We'll figure it out. It might be a flash in the pan, but just in case…"
Yeah. Just in case.
In case Veronica's life as she knew it was over.
They were both jostled as Sheriff Keller came barrelling towards them in the hallway. "You good? Are you good?"
"We're leaving right now," Agent Quinn said. "I don't anticipate a problem as long as we hustle."
"Give me two seconds." Keller spared a worried look for Veronica, but he barely even slowed down as he pushed his way into the room where the band was gathered.
It probably wasn't even two full seconds before he reappeared with Kevin, who wasn't even protesting. Together the four began to hurry toward the back exit, so they could make their way swiftly and (hopefully) undetected to the hotel.
Veronica caught Kevin's eye, and was not encouraged when he gave her a helpless shrug.
"Welcome to house arrest," Kevin said with dark humor and a half-grimace that he probably meant to be a smile.
"We're going to make sure you're safe," Sheriff Keller corrected his son sharply.
"Don't be fooled. Protective custody might as well be prison."
"Kevin. Not now." Sheriff Keller gave Kevin an incredulous look. "You of all people-,"
"Ought to know that we're about to be in for a world of restricted privileges, claustrophobia," Kevin made a wide gesture as if showing off a dramatic vista, "and two heaping helpings of paranoia."
Wow. Kevin was officially more freaked out than Veronica was. And that was saying something.
Paradoxically, despite both adults motioning emphatically for Kevin to cut it out, Veronica felt calmed by Kevin's words.
"Kev," Veronica began soothingly, "nobody's been threatened. This is crazy, sure, but it's inconvenient more than it's dangerous."
Both adults stared at Veronica, even though neither slowed their pace.
"Right, Agent Quinn?" Veronica prompted. "This is nothing like what Joaquin's going through."
When Agent Quinn and Sheriff Keller exchanged looks of consternation and did not reply, Veronica realized they probably couldn't comment. Joaquin's situation was likely just that fraught, and any slip of the tongue could be dangerous.
"See?" Veronica hoped Kevin saw it as clearly as she did: "We're fine. Compared to what we've already survived, this is not a big deal."
Kevin took a deep, calming breath.
Sheriff Keller gave Veronica an impressed look.
Agent Quinn squeezed Veronica's shoulders reassuringly. "Exactly. We've got this; we're being overly cautious until we know more, but you're absolutely right."
And then they reached the doors. The sidewalk beyond was empty.
Veronica ordered herself to believe that everything was just fine, and that it would stay that way until everyone was safely in their hotel rooms.
And, for the first time, she let herself wonder if some tiny part of this might be good for the band, and for her role in it.
As the chill of the night air filled her lungs and Veronica looked up at the lights of so many workplaces and homes - so many signs of life, warm in the December dark - it seemed entirely possible.
00000
Betty watched the door close, and Veronica being swept away from her by Agent Quinn. She stared after her best friend, her mind racing through one possible outcome after another, and she barely took notice of the conversations swirling around her.
Brand had tucked Jughead firmly under one arm and looked for all the world like a little league sports coach psyching up a particularly nervous player to go into the game. The visual was equal parts reassuring (things were business as usual for those two), and worrying (because business as usual for those two tended to have wildly unpredictable outcomes).
Betty tore her gaze away from her boyfriend and his godfather and returned to the searches she'd run on Veronica's phone, as if she could find answers there if she looked carefully enough. However, as minutes ticked by she found herself only more keyed up, and without any meaningful new information.
"Betty, the whole band needs to go. Now." Jughead touched Betty's shoulder gently to get her attention.
"Oh. Yeah. Of course." Without thinking, Betty started to hand Veronica's phone to Jughead. "I'll grab my backpack."
"No. I mean, it'll be easier if it's just the band leaving right now," Jughead corrected her, his hand on her shoulder stilling her movement as he pressed the phone back into Betty's hand. "We want them to keep a low profile. If a few people are still here in the venue, then it won't be obvious right away that the band has left."
Betty stared at Jughead, not comprehending what he was saying – or why he was saying it. And then it hit her for the first time: Jughead was far from being a little league player. He was a trained, integral part of the security team. It was Jughead himself who was making a plan right here, right now, with Special Agent Davies.
Moreover, Veronica going viral meant the possibility that the whole band was going viral. They needed to be protected from any possibility of a mob scene.
"Davies, you can move 'em out. I've got things under control here," Jughead barked with an authority that Betty had never seen him command before.
In fact, as Betty stared at her boyfriend, Jughead somehow appeared to morph into a completely different person. His posture was noticeably straighter, and his expression was stony and businesslike; he looked astonishingly like Brand when the agent was worried and distracted.
"Ms. Cooper, Ms. Carter, if you'll just come with me-," Jughead smiled to soften his use of stiff formality – a signal that they should make a point of maintaining their cover stories – as he motioned Betty and Alice toward a door that led further into the venue, "-it will work best if you're seen in the concert hall and maybe even answer a few questions on behalf of the band. Once the band has all arrived at the hotel, we'll follow."
Alice moved along with Betty, and everything sounded logical enough… but the reality of the situation did not reassure her at all. They were here with Jughead, about to try distracting a crowd because they suspected that it might turn dangerous, while the 'real' security members were somewhere else, protecting other people.
Betty's stomach twisted and she was overwhelmed by the feeling that she was walking straight into the middle of a slow-motion car accident.
Then Mary Andrews stepped in front of them, holding the door firmly shut.
"Hold on. Give the band a minute or two more before you go out there," Mrs. Andrews directed. "If anyone catches a glimpse of them or gets phone footage of them leaving, then this won't work half so well."
Betty's stomach relaxed. She didn't want to think too hard about the fact that the same plan coming from Brand and Jughead – the actual security team – had made her anxious, but that Mrs. Andrews' stamp of approval made it automatically seem like the best course of action.
Jughead nodded once, his expression remaining an uncanny twin of his godfather's. "Good call."
Mrs. Andrews smiled approvingly at Jughead. Apparently his abrupt change in demeanor was not troubling to Mrs. A; she seemed like she might even be pleased by it.
Maybe Betty should be impressed too.
Jughead clearly possessed a set of skills that she had not encountered before. That had to be a good thing. He was interning with the FBI, and it made sense that he'd have a professional persona that he'd been developing over the past few months.
Betty tried to see her boyfriend in that light: as a young professional who was learning how to project his expertise during a high-pressure situation.
Only… it didn't work. Jughead's stony expression and the alert flicker of his eyes as he continually scanned the room still made her uneasy.
Alice caught Betty's eye and mouthed something to her.
"What?" Betty had no idea what Alice was trying to communicate.
"Meet Jonas Davies," Alice said aloud this time, keeping her voice low as she jerked a thumb toward Jughead. "In the flesh."
Oh. Oh.
Jughead completely missed the brief exchange; his head had snapped around and he was waving to Brand in response to a signal that had been invisible to Betty, but had commanded Jughead's full attention.
"Be ready to move." Jughead's words were an order, and he did not look to see if he'd been understood or if his orders would be followed.
Apparently their strict obedience was assumed.
Betty waited tensely, not turning around even when she heard the door behind them slide open and the soft rustle of the band filing out, bags in hand.
Jughead twisted the knob to open the door in front of them.
It felt choreographed. That was their cue; they were about to hit their marks.
Brand and Jughead had never seemed more like partners to Betty than when they shot each other one last look that seemed to communicate volumes; Brand held Jughead's gaze for a couple of seconds, and everyone waited breathlessly as if a crucial decision were being made.
Then they nodded to each other – and each sprang into action.
Jughead pushed open their door and stepped through it, leading Alice and then Betty and Mrs. Andrews through the shockingly normal bustle of the backstage area, toward the crowd waiting in the hall itself – devoted fans who were hoping for a glimpse of the band.
Betty stared at the back of Jughead's neck as he strode forward, his body visibly on high alert and his gaze still sweeping over their surroundings for any information – or any threat.
No, Betty corrected her initial impression. This was not choreography. These were the practiced, instinctive movements of a soldier who had not just been trained, but one who had lived and breathed combat for long enough that his training had become a way of life. Each subtle mannerism, so many of which seemed completely foreign to what Betty knew of Jughead, might represent a tried and true means of survival.
Betty felt her stomach twist again. There should not have been more surprises. Not after the summer and fall they'd just had. Certainly not surprises to Betty that were, painfully obviously, nothing new to Alice Carter.
Besides, Betty reminded herself harshly, she had known all of this; she'd been told. She had unequivocally understood, intellectually at least, that Jughead had learned actual, tangible skills in order to survive everything that he'd endured with Brand – while ostensibly under the agent's protection, but in reality being effectively trapped inside of the agent's fallout zone.
Knowing that didn't change the facts, though. This was still the first time that Betty was seeing evidence of everything she'd been told to expect and to understand about her boyfriend:
Jughead had come home. He'd found his equilibrium and hammered out a hard-won new normal.
But the scars were apparently miles away from even beginning to fade.
Her stomach churned harder.
Betty's eyes returned to Mrs. Andrews' expression of pleased satisfaction, though, and another truth sprang unbidden to her mind:
Scar tissue was protective.
Scars had a role, a function, and were a means for the body to work things out properly. Scar tissue was not the absence of healing; however problematic it might be, it was ultimately a symptom of healing.
"Ms. Cooper?" Jughead stopped abruptly, several yards short of the crowd waiting at the edge of the stage in anxious anticipation as they looked for anyone who might take an interest in meeting some fans. He turned to meet Betty's eyes, his own expression softening as he did so. "Are you ready?"
Betty met Jughead's gaze and had just enough time to wonder if he saw her own scars just as clearly while she smiled reassuringly, nodded once, and squared her shoulders.
Then there was no more time to reflect, or to memorize one another the way they were now, at this single moment in time.
They were side by side, facing the crowd, doing their best to support and protect their best friends – and that was everything.
00000
Jughead felt the eerie calm flooding his limbs. That morning, panic had made him weak. Now, however, he had a plan and Brand had told him in no uncertain terms that he trusted him and was confident about depending on him to take on this role.
It was the first time Jughead had felt like he was actually regaining his strength in a serious way.
All he had to do was not think too hard about the fact that Betty's safety was in his hands. That thought alone threatened to take him apart at the seams as he led her through the venue toward a crowd that both Agent Sarah and Brand feared might turn rabid.
With a great effort, Jughead pushed the worries and images of Betty being mobbed, injured, or even crushed. He would escort 'Ms. Cooper' and 'Ms. Carter,' they would chat with some friendly concert-goers, they would receive the all-clear from Brand through FP's cellphone, and then they would return to the hotel.
Everything would go smoothly.
It had to.
It helped that Mrs. Andrews was with them; her presence was reassuring, even though the looks she kept giving Jughead suggested that she naively believed he was capable of doing the job he was suddenly realizing he was completely unprepared to do.
They reached the stage area, and Jughead was about to lead the other three out to greet the fans milling hopefully around the front row of seats.
"Cyrano."
Jughead was definitely too tense: he almost took a blind swing when a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder from behind.
"Whoa. It's just me." Dax was smiling, but his eyes were filled with concern. "I thought I saw you coming out here without backup. Davies sure believes in getting his money's worth out of his team, huh?"
There was no good response to that. Jughead frowned and shrugged.
"Well, not on my watch. I'm coming with you. The band is already on its way to the hotel, I assume?" Dax clocked Jughead's surprise and didn't miss a beat. "We saw the news coverage. Breaking Fast is flipping out; they can't decide if it's fantastic or a disaster, but either way I thought the best move was to suggest they send me to help out."
Jughead felt relief flood through him. He was not alone, and that meant he could not screw up too badly. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."
"You bet."
Jughead shot Dax a sharp look; the man seemed altogether too similar to Brand in some ways, even though they seemed like oil and water when they were in the same room.
Dax didn't notice Jughead's reaction to his words. He gave a tight smile to Mrs. Andrews, Betty, and Alice. "Shall we?"
Jughead was immensely grateful for the additional protection for Betty, Alice, and Mrs. Andrews, but he still made a point of walking out first, and addressing the crowd in just the way Brand had suggested.
In a few moments a calm but enthused crowd had organized itself neatly and was eagerly waiting to ask questions of the band's costume designer and tour photographer.
Jughead motioned to Betty and Alice – and only then did he see two members of the road crew hovering nearby in the wings: both Clark and FP were watching over the situation, just in case.
Of course Brand had arranged for backup.
Jughead felt the weight of their eyes on him, but somehow that didn't make him nervous or self-conscious. Instead, Jughead felt confidence flood through him, and he gave Dax a subtle wave to get his attention.
Betty and Alice already had the small crowd laughing; Mrs. Andrews was hovering just out of sight.
"You can go now, Dax. I've got it handled," Jughead said quietly. "Thanks for checking in; I do appreciate it. Tell Breaking Fast thanks too."
"Are you sure?" Dax seemed impressed more than worried, though, so Jughead didn't think the older man actually thought there was any danger at this point.
"Yeah. I got this."
"All right, tough guy." Dax grinned, but then the grin faded. "Don't be too tough, though. The offer stands; you just say the word and you've got yourself a new job. And we might just be the best people are to surround yourself with if you've got an angry ex-boss. I promise, it's not gonna get any easier than this to stand up to him. He's got resources and a clearance, doesn't he?"
Jughead stared at Dax blankly; once again, he felt completely out of his depth with the cover story, and no response seemed safe.
Dax seemed to read volumes into Jughead's emphatically blank expression; he made a sympathetic face. "They screen those guys to try and avoid it, but the worst are the ones who get the power and feel the need to use it."
Jughead felt blood rush to his cheeks. It was all well and good to be acting, and playing a part with Brand. It was quite another experience to be alone, playing the battered employee for someone who might simply be a concerned friend – one who was offering a kind of help that Jughead knew from experience was extremely rare.
"Yeah. I know." Jughead ducked his head.
Dax hesitated, waiting in silence long enough that it became awkward.
Finally, the older man shrugged and let out a long breath. "You have my number."
Jughead did; it was programmed into his own phone, which was still in his father's possession. He nodded.
"Good. I'd appreciate it if you just… checked in every so often. Maybe once a day or something while we're traveling together. There's no law against us talking, or maybe even hanging out if he ever lets you off the clock."
Jughead made a noncommittal noise, wondering what kind of a rant that open-ended invitation would inspire in Brand. Maybe Jughead could text Dax once a day, show up for a few minutes of face time here and there, and keep everyone happy.
Maybe.
"Don't overthink it." Dax seemed able to read his mind. "Just send me a text once you're back safe tonight, huh?"
The man studied Jughead for a few more moments and then, finally, he walked away.
"I like him." Mrs. Andrews approached Jughead as Dax disappeared backstage. "That was really nice of him, especially considering he doesn't know about–,"
Mrs. A motioned subtly toward Clark and FP, who looked a lot more relaxed now that everything was in process and going smoothly.
Jughead nodded. His eyes stayed on Betty and Alice, and the group of fans that were firing questions at them, but his mind was on Brand and the complex antagonism between his godfather and the other security team. "Yeah. That's Dax. He's good people."
Maybe. Probably. Jughead couldn't be entirely sure. But he did know that he didn't completely buy Brand's version of what was going on either; Dax just didn't seem like the type.
Jughead should know by now. Right?
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I hope you're enjoying as much as I am! I also have high hopes of being a bit more prompt with the next chapter. Thank you as always for reading along - and for any and all reviews. They are a huge encouragement!
Wishing you every good thing,
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