Chapter 7: Game of Shadows

Almost a week had passed since Betty Cooper was officially declared missing. The case had been made public and now the whole town was aware that it was yet again in the throes of another mystery. Somehow though, Riverdale has a way of ignoring what is right in front of it, pretending as if life can go on just as normal. And so it does for most; students returned to school, parents to work, and the little town went about business as usual, just with added water cooler fodder.

Teenage populations, however, always seem more privy and acutely aware of the macabre and malignant goings-on than the supposed more mindful adult generation, and small-town gossip has a way of feeling more menacing and far-reaching than it should. I - as the poor recluse with the missing girlfriend - was now resigned to face an onslaught of shady whisperings. As unbearable as the sudden feigned interest was, what was even worse was that along with the half-hearted condolences also came rumors and theories surrounding Betty.

High school forever remains the same, town tragedies making it that much more insufferable.

"Jughead, we are so sorry about what's happened! We can't imagine how you are getting through this." Two lanky girls in Vixen uniforms leaned up against the lockers as Jughead pulled out some of his books. They looked up at him with dopey eyes and exaggerated frowns.

"Thanks, two girls I've never seen nor met before," Jughead quipped back, shutting his locker. The girls continued to stare at him, hugging their piles of folders and books tight to their chests. Jughead flicked his eyes back and forth between the two of them, his hands twisting the strap on his over-the-shoulder bag. "You can go now."

The two girls glanced at each other then walked briskly past him. He sighed and walked down the hall. Other students ambled about, some casting side glances at him as he passed while others veered out of his path completely.

Jughead looked down at the floor and away from the prying eyes of the attention-givers he despised. He was receiving the same kind of unwanted notice he had gotten when FP had been arrested, but this time the artificial sympathy produced an additional sour taste in his mouth.

Jughead swung into the student lounge and noticed a glint of red out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, hoping to find Archie, but instead came face to face with an anxious Cheryl Blossom.

"Jughead," Cheryl said with crossed arms and a concerned look on her face, "we need to talk."

Jughead lowered himself onto one of the worn-out couches as Cheryl quickly sat down in an armchair. She crossed her legs and folded her hands on top of her knee. "What is it, Cheryl?" he asked warily.

Cheryl scoffed, "No need to be so uptight with me, Jughead. I'm not one of those puppy-eyed bimbos, I have a real investment in the matter at hand." She looked Jughead up and down. "And believe it or not, you are not the only one who has the right to brood. Betty is family."

Jughead stuck his tongue into the inside of his cheek and looked away. He crossed his arms and turned back, his eyes slightly glistening as Cheryl continued, "I heard about your wild goose chase and I'm sorry you had to go through that." Jughead analyzed her face, looking for some indication of mockery, but he found none.

"You and I both know that this wasn't just some random kidnapping. And I want to help you with whatever investigation you are putting together." She furrowed her brow, looking intently at Jughead, who only stared blankly back. "You are doing some sort of investigation, right?"

Jughead nodded, shaking himself out of his lull. As soon as Cheryl had mentioned Betty's name, an assault of visions had come crashing against his skull. "Yes, of course. I'm just… I'm just working on my next move."

Cheryl nodded. "Toni and I, and all of the Poisons, are available to help. In times of need, we'll join our Serpent brothers-in-arms. Show them how to really fight."

Jughead rolled his eyes but gave a small nod. "Thank you, Cheryl. But for now, I think I need to do this on my own. The police don't have any leads right now, and I want to keep my investigation small."

Cheryl pouted her lip and gave a deep sigh. She flashed Jughead a grimace, "I thought you would appreciate the offer, but apparently your tragic fretting only makes you even more ostentatious." At that moment, Archie rounded the corner into the lounge. Cheryl gave him a sideways glance. "Oh good, back me up, Archie."

"On what?" he asked, dropping onto the edge of the couch next to Jughead.

"Jughead here seems to think that he's the only one allowed to search for Betty." Cheryl cast a brazen glance at Archie.

He looked between Cheryl and Jughead, the latter staring hotly up at him. "Uhh… well, right now, none of us are really doing any searching. We kind of hit a dead end." Jughead elbowed him in the knee. "Ouch! Uh, I mean, we're letting the police handle it for now. But we're not giving up."

Cheryl looked between the two boys. "Fine. Continue to be the Labrador that you are, Andrews, but I am not going to be left in the dark. I mean, if nothing else, can we at least do something to quash those spiteful rumors floating around? And no, I did not start them."

Archie perked his head up. "What rumors? Are they about Betty?"

A guttural growl emanated from Jughead, "Don't even bring those up." His voice was low and his face was growing red.

Cheryl leaned towards Archie and whispered, "People are saying that she finally snapped, that she ran off and locked herself up in some looney bin."

"What?" Archie fumed, his chest beginning to rise sharply. "That's outrageous!"

"Is it?" A voice piped up, "We all know crazy runs in the Cooper family."

Archie, Cheryl, and Jughead twisted their heads around. In the opposite corner of the lounge, leaning against one of the vending machines was Kevin, staring indignantly at them. "I mean, how do we know she didn't run off just to draw attention to herself? She likes doing that."

Jughead rose slowly from the couch, turning his body in Kevin's direction. His eyes narrowed and he started to furl his fingers. "How dare you say that. She didn't fake anything!"

Archie stood quickly, taking a step away from Jughead, and glared at Kevin. Cheryl remained in her chair, but she arched her body forward, leaning into the friction. A few other students began turning their heads and whispering in hushed tones.

Kevin straightened up and took a step forward. "Maybe, but at least now we get a little peace and quiet from Miss Fix-it."

"Kev! Come on, man," Archie pleaded, eyeing Jughead's shaking frame.

Kevin folded his hands behind his back and haughtily jutted his chin. "She meddles everywhere she shouldn't, and look where that's gotten her. If I'm being honest, this was only a matter of time."

Everyone in the room seemed to hold in a collective breath; the air was still and all eyes were turned on Kevin and the trio. Bodies stood frozen and eyes gaped wide.

And then Jughead lunged.

"You used to be her friend!" he screamed, wrapping his arms around Kevin's torso and shoving him backward. Jughead's eyes were crazed and watery. "She believed in you!" He and Kevin crumpled to the floor.

Cheryl rose, her golden spider brooch swinging threateningly as she sprang towards the boys. Archie ducked, avoiding a jab meant for Jughead. The other students in the room gasped, pressing themselves up against the wall, with a few pulling out their phones and chanting, "Fight!"

Archie dove into the fray, pulling Jughead up from the heap on the floor and restrained his arms, fighting against the still-bucking Serpent. Cheryl pushed herself in between the two of them and Kevin, glaring intensely. Kevin lifted a hand to his nose, a small trickle of blood smearing on the back of his hand.

"Knock it off! Both of you. As much as I love a little chaos, this is no time for in-quarreling!" Cheryl shooed away the remaining onlookers. "Kevin, you should be ashamed! Stop pretending like you're above everyone, because news flash, you're not! You're just taking your pain out on everyone!"

"I'm not in pain, Cheryl. You're just in denial along with everyone else that I can see what no one else can."

"Denial?" Jughead barked, feeling Archie slacken his grip on his arms. "What a bunch of shit! A tragedy happened to someone who was your friend and you don't even care!"

Kevin's eyes glittered and Jughead thought he saw his face droop for a split second. Kevin shook out his sleeves and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He took one last look at everyone in the room and trod out of the lounge into the sea of students in the hallway with a placated huff. Veronica had to swerve to avoid a collision as she gingerly stepped into the lounge. She stopped and surveyed the scene before her. Jughead could only imagine he looked disheveled, and he could feel his beanie hanging loosely off his head. Archie was hovering in front of him, whispering something inaudible.

"What on earth happened here?" Veronica demanded.

"Kevin's being an ass," Jughead spat.

"They got in a fight," Archie interjected, walking back over to the couch. Veronica joined him. "People have been saying some nasty things about Betty, and Kevin seems to be goading it."

"Well, we'll just have to do something about that," Veronica contended, offhandedly smoothing Archie's shirt and grabbing his hand. Jughead darted his eyes and scooped up his bag from the floor. He adjusted his hat back overtop his tousled hair.

"We'll do something, Jug. Just try ignoring them for now," Archie chimed, dropping Veronica's hand. He stared at his friend. Jughead sensed that his eyes still looked erratic. "Hey, I'm headed back to the community center after school today, why don't you join me? You haven't seen it yet."

"No thanks, Archie. Maybe you can go back to normal life, but I can't. Not while she's still out there." With that, he disappeared into the mindless hoard of students milling about in the hallway.

xxx

Archie and Veronica glanced at each other, concern bubbling in each of their eyes.

"Ahem." A voice broke them out of their trance; Cheryl was still standing in the lounge, arms crossed. "Jughead may want to play the loner act, but don't let him." Her eyes softened. "And please, let me know if anything new pops up."

They nodded and Cheryl too slipped out of the lounge. Archie looked at Veronica and sighed. "What now?"

Veronica placed a hand on Archie's knee. "You go back to the community center, and I go visit my father."

Scritcha scritcha chkk chkkk.

The jagged piece of wood scraped away at the small straight groove on the wall. It was the newest addition in a set of identical lines etched into the paneling, joining five other straight lines and one diagonal rut. Betty pulled the makeshift wood pick away from the wall and blew a bit of shaving out of the freshly dug furrow. She leaned back on the bed and ran her fingers over the tally marks, letting out a disgruntled grumble.

For the past week, she had meticulously inspected every inch of the cabin, noting anything that may present itself as useful in an escape or attack. Her toolkit was scarce - one loose floorboard in the front room, which she had already repositioned the couch over to conceal, the matchbook Edgar had left the first night, and a chipped piece of the bedroom dresser. In so far, these things only offered her fleeting hope for a plan that only existed as a vague and discombobulated idea in her head. She looked down at the small wood chip in her hand, a mere symbol of her perpetuating frustration and fragmenting patience.

Betty groaned and stood up, tossing the splinter onto the small, black nightstand as she ambled into the kitchen. A few dirtied plates lay strewn across the kitchen counter. Every two days or so, a plate of food and a glass of water appeared; the only substantial evidence that Edgar was still observing, flitting in the shadows like some sort of watcher in the woods, as he hadn't come back since the first morning. Betty shivered, sinking onto the couch. She wrapped a thin blanket around herself, listening to the soft pitter-patter of raindrops crash against the cross-barred window.

Chink.

Betty whipped her head around as metal clanked and rattled, and the pale wooden door swung open. Edgar shook out a large black umbrella, sending a spray of rain droplets splattering around the room. He sauntered past the couch and stood beside the kitchen counter.

Betty followed Edgar's movements, steadying her shaky breaths. When he stopped she looked down and swallowed. "What are those for?" she questioned, eyeing a folded black cloth and syringe nestled in the hand Edgar held behind his back.

"I see you've been eating all your food," Edgar remarked, ignoring her question. "That's good, you need to keep up your strength." He walked over to the edge of the couch and sat on the armrest. "How about your arm? I bet it's almost healed."

Betty looked down and realized a corner of her blanket had slipped, revealing a portion of the white bandage covering her forearm. She flipped the blanket back over her arm and scooted a few inches back. "It's doing really well, thank you. Another day or two and it will only be a scar."

Edgar smiled. "See? You're already experiencing renewal, and we're only a few days in." Betty glared at him as he slid onto the couch beside her. "Scars mean you survived - they mean you conquered." He placed the contents from his hands on his lap, unraveling the black cloth. Betty's eyes flicked between Edgars' face and the items in his lap. Her blood chilled as she realized what it was - a burlap hood.

"Are we going somewhere?" she stammered, an alarm sounding in her mind.

He grinned and raised the needle to his face, flicking it twice. "Oh, just on a little trip."

Betty scrunched up her face. She did not like the sound of that, nor did she like the needle Edgar had poised in the air. She reached up and instinctively rubbed her neck, a small shudder running down her back as the recollection of the sharp sting prickled under her fingers.

"Don't worry, as long as you cooperate I only have to stick this in your arm this time." He reached forward and began to pull the blanket away from Betty's shoulder. She flinched, slapping his hand away. "Now, now, Betty, the disorientation is all part of the process."

Betty closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. I don't have much of a choice. She lowered the blanket from her arm and a firm hand gripped her shoulder. She opened her eyes and stared directly at Edgar as the icy needle slid into her arm. The soft din of the rainfall lingered in her ears, and Edgar's chilling blue gaze danced in the corner of her eyes as her vision slowly ebbed away.

Warm lamplight bathed cobalt steel walls, spilling over onto the green shrubberies scattered around the prison visiting area. Veronica looked over the room in disdain as a far door was buzzed open. Her father strolled leisurely through with a conniving grin on his face. If he had been wearing a properly tailored three-piece suit instead of a shapeless jumpsuit, he would have been haughtily buttoning the midriff.

Hiram slid coolly onto the seat across from Veronica, never dropping his smug smirk. "I knew you would find your way here sooner or later." He raised his arms and motioned around the room. "What do you think? I wanted my inmates to still have a sense of home when visiting with their loved ones."

Veronica sat with crossed arms and a drawn scowl. "Like you know anything about creating a sense of home."

Hiram shook his head and placed his clasped hands on the cold tabletop. "Ah, Veronica, and how would you know anything about a 'real' home when the only one you've ever known is mine?" Veronica's eyes widened for a split second, then, just as quickly as she let slip, the sudden hesitation was replaced with an even more potent fervor. Hiram gave a silent chuckle. "So, what finally brings you here?"

Nauseatingly happy elevator music played indistinctly in the background as Veronica began, "As you probably well know, a prisoner escaped early last week, from your prison, of which I know you've poured thousands of dollars into for security."

Hiram gave a slight nod. "Yes, I am aware. That Chic fellow, very… unnerving, very gangly. But that was just a fluke. The security team here has been diligently cracking down on all disturbances within the prison and they also have been implementing new safety protocols. And I'm sure he'll be back behind bars in no time." Veronica raised an eyebrow. Hiram frowned. "What?"

"Don't you get updates on the outside world?" Veronica chimed, staring disbelievingly at her father.

"Of course. Just because I'm in prison doesn't mean I'm going to lose all touch with reality."

"Well, Daddy," Veronica jeered, "Reality check. Chic was found murdered last Saturday." A cheerful jazz note drifted over Veronica's words.

Hiram paused and Veronica tried to read his face. His expression fell somewhere in between fluster and discontent, but she couldn't quite tell which way it leaned more. His eyes quickly darted back and forth, then softened and rested back on Veronica. "How dreadful. Do you know how it happened?"

Veronica shifted in her metal seat, smoothing out her dress. "As a matter of fact, I do." Hiram lifted his chin in anticipation as Veronica locked eye contact with him. "He was shot in the head. I saw the body, and only because Chic sent us on a deranged scavenger hunt to find Betty." She stared doggedly at Hiram, who's mouth hung slightly agape. He stayed silent.

"And I find it… unnerving-," Veronica leaned forward, letting out a deep breath and placing her clasped hands on the tabletop, "-that the only inmate in this prison that has ties to my friends and I escapes at the exact same time my best friend goes missing."

Hiram rocked back in his seat, his eyes indistinct. He swallowed, "Veronica, I had no idea. Truly, I'm very sorry about Betty, that's terrible. But-," he rolled his shoulders and sat upright, "-as your accusatory tone seems to be insinuating, I have nothing to do with this. I wish no such harm to you and your friends."

Veronica scoffed, "You've tried to have both Archie and Jughead killed! I know you're after me, but don't you dare go after my friends." Her eyes were shining. "Or there will be another reckoning. And-," she gestured around the room, "-the first one didn't turn out so well for you."

Hiram gave a small side smile. "I assure you, I had nothing to do with this, Veronica." He rose from the table and adjusted his collar. "Now, I do believe our time is up. Thank you for visiting. I wish it had been under better circumstances." He walked over to the large metal door, pausing to whisper something to one of the guards.

"By the way," Hiram spun on his heels, looking back at Veronica. "I heard Archie opened up his community center. Send him warm regards for me, won't you?" He turned and disappeared on the other side, leaving Veronica alone at the cold metal table with a straight face and a churning mind, the swell of a peppy chorus buzzing gallingly in her ears.

"Thanks for meeting me, Charles," FP expressed, offering the FBI agent a cup of coffee. Charles accepted and took a seat on one of the bar stools surrounding the island in the Jones' kitchen. FP poured himself a cup and sat down across from him.

"It's no problem, FP," replied Charles, taking a sip. "It's honestly nice to have a meeting that isn't confined to the station. It's a bit stuffy in there." He cracked a smile.

FP chuckled. "You got that right." He leaned back, running one hand through his greased hair while shaking out his flannel shirt with the other. The two men each took a swig of their coffee and let their mugs drop on the counter.

"So, what's on your mind?"

"Charles, I-," both Charles and FP spoke at the same time. FP shut his mouth but Charles waved a hand at him.

"No, go ahead."

FP thumbed at the handle on his mug. "Charles, uhh… I know this has been weird for the both of us, learning that we're family and all-," he flapped a hand toward Charles, "and I was never good at being a father when I knew I had children." FP sniffled slightly and wiped his nose. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. For giving you the cold shoulder."

Charles nodded a slow nod and wrapped his hands around his mug. He opened his mouth, "FP, I'm not upset. Not anymore. I was so… mad and confused growing up. I drowned out that pain through an addiction, which, I've heard you can relate to." FP nodded, staring down into his drink. "I had nobody to look up to, no direction." Charles sighed, "But what I'm trying to say is, I forgive you. All that is in the past."

FP's mouth twitched as his eyes rose slowly towards his son. Charles' eyes were red, but he was giving FP a sympathetic smile. "Thanks, boy. But I'm not sure how much of a father I can be to you now, I mean, you're already practically grown. You're in the FBI for crying out loud!" He chuckled again, but his smile faded. "And I'm just the sheriff of the town I never left."

"And who says that's not someone I can learn from? Breaking free from a troubled past and making something of yourself? We have more in common than you think. Don't sell yourself short." Charles leaned back on his stool.

FP managed a grin. "Just don't start calling me dad. I don't think I could handle that."

Charles nodded. "FP it is." He downed the last swallow of his coffee.

"Now what did you want to talk to me about?" FP probed.

Charles walked over to the coffee pot and began pouring himself another cup. "It's about what you asked me earlier this week. About Betty's case." His eyes softened as he sat back down.

"Yes? Are you able to lend our station some help?

Charles sighed. "Unfortunately, no. All FBI personnel in Riverdale are strictly Farm detail only. Everything I've already done is all I can do." FP slumped back in his chair and Charles quickly piped back up, "But, that doesn't mean if anyone comes across any information pertinent to Betty that I won't share it. I mean, she's my sister. This shouldn't have happened. Not under my watch."

"Not under our watch," FP corrected him. "We're all pretty messed up about it, Jughead especially. He hasn't been thinking straight since it happened," FP lamented. "We probably shouldn't tell him that I asked you for help because I have to warn you, he even has this craz-,"

The two men fell silent as the lock to the front door clicked and Jughead skulked into the house, throwing his bag carelessly to the floor. He collapsed onto the couch and put his head into his hands.

"Rough day?" FP called, rising from the island.

"The school's been nothing but a hotbed of callous rumors and insincere consolations. But today somehow sucked even more than usual." Jughead dropped his hands and looked up, suddenly noticing the second man seated in his kitchen. "Uhh…"

"Hello, Jughead," Charles spoke up. "Your dad and I were just talking about our cases. I'm so sorry about everything that's been going on."

Jughead dropped his eyes, his cheeks growing red. "Uh, thanks."

Charles looked over at FP, who shrugged his shoulders. "I should get going." He picked up his jacket and walked over to the door. "Oh, Jughead," Charles remembered, "I know things have gotten out of sorts, but my offer to inspect the old Sisters of Quiet Mercy still stands. Tomorrow morning. 9 am."

Jughead stared up at his dad; FP shot him an upturned eyebrow and inquisitive look. FP watched Jughead look between him and Charles for a few moments. Jughead then let a wry smile curl at the edge of his lips as his gaze settled on his father. FP furrowed his brow and shook his head quickly. That smile was not good. "Yes, Charles. I think I'll come."

"Excellent. I appreciate the help." Charles turned and walked out the door. Jughead stood up and headed for the staircase. FP grabbed his shoulder as he reached the first step.

"Jug…"

"Dad, don't worry." Jughead's smile expanded. "Betty asked me to spend time with him. That's what I'm doing." The teen trotted up the staircase, leaving FP standing at the bottom with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temple in exasperation.

Archie pushed open the double doors to the front of the community center, drinking in the vibrant air, and smiled.

Children and teens raced around the foyer, laughing and shouting after each other. A group of students lounged on bean bag chairs and new sofas in the next room over, their noses buried in their notebooks or computers. Archie rounded the corner into the main gym and tossed his bag into the office. Mad Dog was in the ring, showing a younger dark-skinned boy a series of uppercuts. His eye caught Archie's.

"Hey, we'll take five," Mad Dog said, pulling off his gloves and patting the boy on his shoulder. He jogged over to the edge of the boxing ring as Archie leaned up against the ropes. "Red! About time you got back here."

"Sorry, Mad Dog, it's been a rough week. Thanks for understanding though." He glanced around the room, at the gleaming smiles and shimmering eyes catching in the corner of his eyes. "This place is so lively! It's great. At least something is going right."

He pulled himself up into the ring and sat on the edge, slinging his arms over the lowest rope. Mad Dog dropped beside him. "Yeah, I heard about everything. I'm so sorry, man. That's messed up."

"Everyone's always just sorry," Archie fussed, "I just feel so helpless."

"Hey," Mad Dog grinned, clapping Archie on the back. "You helped me and the others get out of jail. I'm sure you can figure something out." He hopped up and lowered a hand down to Archie. "For now, let me introduce you to someone." Archie grabbed Mad Dog's arm and hauled himself up fully into the ring. The young man Mad Dog had been sparring with earlier walked over. Mad Dog wrapped the kid in a side hug. "Red, this is my little brother, Elliot."

Archie held out a hand and shook Elliot's hand. "Nice to meet you. You've got a great big brother. He teaching you how to fight?"

Elliot nodded and smirked. "More like I'm teaching him!" He gave his brother a small jab in the side. Mad Dog scoffed and Archie laughed.

"He's been coming with me most of the week. He really enjoys having a place to hang out that isn't the school."

Archie nodded. "Good. That's what this place is all about. Glad you like it. Anything we can do better?"

Elliot leaned to one side, thinking. "Hmm, how about an ice cream bar?"

Archie couldn't help but chuckle. "Ha, we'll think about it."

Mad Dog shoved his brother. "Alright, alright. Let's get back to it." He looked up at Archie. "It's really starting to take shape here. We have a lot of people asking if they can volunteer. We better have some sort of management meeting soon." Archie nodded. Mad Dog put a hand over Elliot's shoulder and began to steer him towards a far corner of the ring. He turned his head and shouted back at Archie. "Looks like you got a visitor, Red."

Archie glanced over his shoulder. Veronica was standing in the doorframe of the gym office. When she noticed Archie looking at her, she cocked her head towards the room and strode inside.

xxx

Veronica sat with her legs crossed on one of the desk chairs. The door closed with a piercing click as Archie shut it behind him. He plopped himself down on the new black suede sofa across from her. "What's up, Ronnie?"

"I spoke with my father."

Archie's face dropped and Veronica could practically hear his heart rate increase. "Is he responsible for the brick and graffiti?"

Veronica laced her hands over her knee. "To be honest, that wasn't my top priority, but he did make one ominous crack at you toward the end of the conversation. He knew the center had opened, but I'm not quite sure it meant that he's guilty."

Archie laid his arm on the armrest and clenched his fist. "Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure," Veronica retorted. "But he's still playing at something." She crossed her arms and whistled between her teeth. "I asked him about Chic."

The redhead perked up, his eyes trained on Veronica's. She swallowed and continued, "He had no idea about Betty, that I know for sure. He actually let some vulnerability slip out when I mentioned it. But he didn't seem at all worried that Chic had escaped from his prided security. And he was genuinely shocked hearing he was dead."

Archie placed his chin in his folded hands, shaking his head. "So… what? You think somehow he let Chic escape?"

"His plan isn't clear – damn him and his poker face - but he was way too calm about the whole thing. Maybe he needed a con man in his pocket on the outside, one he could blackmail."

"Ugh, it's so frustrating!" Archie rumbled, running his hands through his scruffy hair. "There has to be something we're not thinking of."

Veronica looked down and uncrossed her legs, letting her heels drag on the floor. She knew they weren't thinking about a lot of things, but she wasn't sure how much energy she could devote to solving their mystery – or rather - mysteries. She had no idea how Jughead and Betty did this day in and day out.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Archie stared out the picture window into the gym. Kids were still running around, parents trying to catch up. Mad Dog and Elliot had receded to one of the benches lining the wall.

Veronica shifted in her seat and broke the silence, her voice gentle. "Archie?" He turned back towards her. "Can we talk about the other night?"

He leaned forward and grabbed one of Veronica's hands and held it between his. "Of course."

A faint smile crossed the girl's face. She could feel her cheeks growing hot and guessed they were turning a shade close to that of Archie's hair. "We had such a sweet night, but ever since then, you've seemed distant. I mean, just this morning you dropped my hand, but here you are, holding me tenderly now."

Archie rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of Veronica's hand. "It's Jughead; he's been so erratic lately. He can't get his mind off of Betty and I'm just a little afraid that if he sees we're back together, he might go off the deep end."

Veronica gently placed her other hand over Archie's. "Oh, Archiekins, that's so sweet." She transferred to a spot on the couch next to him. "But do we really need to hide it from him?"

Archie sighed, "For now, I think we do. See, when Jughead's really upset he tends to just get angry when he sees other people happy. He thinks that's a sign that they've stopped caring, and if Jug sees us together, all he'll see is us moving on from Betty."

"Oh," Veronica whispered. She leaned back against the couch and stared forward.

"Yeah, it's a strange part of his lone wolf act. I haven't noticed him outgrow it yet."

She huffed, dropping Archie's hand to rub his back. An idea suddenly shot into her head and Veronica popped up from the couch. "What if we show Jughead that people can both be happy while also still very much care about Betty at the same time?"

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

Veronica could sense a spirited grin spreading across her face. "A rally! We organize a rally for Betty's case to make sure everyone in the town can't forget about her! Not only will Jughead see that we care, but it lifts some of the weight from his shoulders." She began excitedly pacing around the room. "It would only take a few days to organize. Maybe this is the unification we need, and maybe the tension at school will even diffuse if they all remember what we really should be fighting for."

Archie contemplated her idea for a few seconds. "I think Jughead might like that. He needs pulled out of all his brooding."

Veronica's heart pumped as he stood and joined her in the middle of the room. She nodded, "Exactly. And if we can get all of Riverdale on high alert, we may just be able to bring our girl home."

Archie grabbed Veronica's hands and swung them absent-mindedly at his side. "This is why I love you." He leaned in, pulling Veronica close to his chest, and kissed her.

The muffled hum of crickets and cicadas buzzed in the chilly, black night.

At least, she assumed it was night.

The world was dark and musty and each of her shallow, hot breaths stuck close to her face. A small jolt of panic rose in Betty's mind until she suddenly remembered there was a bag over her head.

She groaned, stretching her legs, her jeans adding an extra hindrance to her already stiff muscles. She was sitting on the ground, her back up against something hard and prickly. Her arms felt heavy as she attempted to raise them to her head. They rose together awkwardly and Betty tried pulling them apart, but grunted, coming to the discomforting conclusion that they must be tied.

"Oh good, you're awake," crooned a muted, yet all too familiar voice. A hand gripped under her armpit and pulled her clumsily to her feet. She could feel another hand over her head, ripping the hood away.

Betty blinked, trying to adjust from one unclear blackness to the next. As her eyes began to adjust, the dark splotches and shadows around her began taking shape. She had been sitting against a large tree trunk, the top cleanly cut and smooth. A kerosene lantern sat on the stump, casting a strange glow on the trees encircling the small grove Betty stood in. Edgar was standing next to one of the trees, his hands behind his back. His figure was half-bathed in the orange light radiating from another lantern hanging from a nearby branch.

Betty looked up at the tops of the trees that rustled gently below a clear night sky. Clusters of stars were speckled across the indigo tapestry above. A chorus of cicadas and crickets floated through the air, an owl joining in with a raucous hoot. She was not sure whether to attribute the peculiar sensation she was presently experiencing to the still-lingering drugs in her system, or to her acute awareness of the harmonious swirl of ethereal sensory around her, but Betty felt as though she were standing in a dream.

"Do you know where we are?" Edgar asked, his face split ghastly in the gaslight and shadow.

Betty shivered; though the lanterns provided a pale emanation of heat within the clearing, she hadn't been wearing her jacket when Edgar appeared, leaving her standing now in the cold air with only a short-sleeved shirt. The breeze tugged at her skin, adding to the frightening chill that was already running cold down her back. She took one last inspection of the clearing, her eyes landing on the tree stump in front of her before offering her answer.

"Thornhill."

Edgar smiled and nodded, stepping forward fully into the glow from the lanterns. "This spot particularly is the culmination of many sufferings, ideologies, and revelations. A proving ground for choice and character. Built for you."

Betty could feel the panic rising in her chest. She stared at the ground, attempting to hide any trace of fear from her face. She could still see that night - feel it - in her mind. Her fingers wrapped around the cold trigger of a gun, her father's eyes - somehow both hollow and full of desperation - locked on hers, a piercing gunshot, and finally, the echo of her own anguished wail.

"What a remarkable place. It holds the echoes of a painful choice; of a battle already forged in darkness," Edgar mused. "In this place, you were able to momentarily see through the noise and haze of your own mind and pick a clear path." He walked slowly towards Betty, running a hand over the smooth top of the tree stump. "And now you have the unique chance to face this demon on a different level."

Betty cringed as Edgar came behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He leaned into her ear, speaking in his hushed, rhythmic tone. "You see, most people believe that once we experience something, it's over. But that's not true, that experience just transforms into another form – the memory. And the memory is far more potent than the experience because it is no longer bound by the tangible. But people turn a blind eye toward memories; they lock them up, never confronting those fears, pain, and despairs. But once you wrestle with your own mind and break free? Well, that's ascendance."

He pulled away and stepped back in front of Betty. He stared into the shimmering trees and flickering light, his eyes focused somewhere in the heart of darkness that circled them. "This is your first crossroads of this journey, Betty. A place where the material and the mystic meet, the first temptation."

Betty curled her lip in disgust. Her heart thumped in her chest as she sputtered, "Once again, you call this help, but all it is, is psychologically-veiled torture."

"Torture? That's what you would call this?" His mouth curled into something between annoyance and glee. "Ah, that means I'm right - this place still has power over you. Which part haunts you the most, hm?" Edgar gestured, looking around the clearing. "Is it standing face to face with your murderous father as he pointed a gun at you and your friends? Perhaps the pressure of potentially holding all of your friends' fates in your hands, knowing that you and another were already dying? Or-," Edgar paced in a small circle around the stump, ending with his back turned to Betty, "was it watching your father, despite the heartless monster he was, be killed right in front of your eyes?"

Betty tried twisting her hands, but the ropes were drawn taut. They dug into her skin as painfully as Edgar's words did in her mind.

She was already having nightmares of that night but now, being back in the exact spot summoned something entirely different – an almost spectral vision; ghostly shapes of her father, her friends, and even herself seemed to float in front of her. Betty squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stabilize her breathing.

Then, amongst all the chaos that had unwillingly been stirred up in her mind, a thought occurred.

"Wait, how do you know all of this? Most of that was never released to the public," Betty questioned, a steely look returning to her eyes.

"Because someone told him."

A honeyed voice rang out from the darkness. "Besides, a man would never be able to execute such an extravagant scheme all by himself," Penelope crooned, materializing out of the shadows and placing herself next to Edgar, her long black dress whipping around her figure.

Betty screwed up her face, gaping at the now two adversaries standing before her.

"It's true," Edgar confessed with a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Penelope and I might not see eye to eye on everything, but I needed information and access. And we both have… similar interests."

"He's also a caitiff and needed someone to deal with the more… unsightly details. Loose ends and all that." Penelope casually waved her hand.

Betty gulped, her eyes widening. Loose ends? Who was she referring to?

"When you dastardly four somehow thwarted my masterpiece of a hunt, I knew vengeance was calling me. Edgar found me in my own wilderness and pointed me to a - I will admit, more toned down than I'd like – but just as delicious plan."

"Wonderful, I get Lucifer and Lilith…" Betty muttered under her breath, snorting at Penelope's declaration.

"What was that?" Penelope chimed, staring spitefully at Betty.

"If you want revenge on all four of us, then why single me out? Why am I the only one here?"

Penelope folded her hands and smiled. "Oh Elizabeth, while I thought killing you would bring me the retribution I've been searching for, I've now come to the conclusion that watching you and your friends destroy yourselves is so much more pleasing." She chuckled a troubling laugh and walked closer to Betty.

"Edgar told me of his plan to pluck you away-," Penelope glanced back at Edgar as she said that and Betty's gaze followed. Edgar was staring at her with a grin so full of content it sent a chill crawling down her spine. "And I knew I had to join in on the fun. It's much more satisfying watching those pests you call friends squirm and self-destruct, all because the knot that tied them together was taken away."

Penelope leaned down, her face coming uncomfortably close to Betty's. "And don't you remember little girl?" she breathed into Betty's ear, "I told you - you made a big mistake all those years ago, barging into my house, taking what wasn't yours to take. I have a long memory and a lot of patience." She pulled away with a wretched smile lining her face and rejoined Edgar.

Betty was both fuming and shaking. What was she entangled in? She thought Edgar alone was psychopathic enough, but now she was trapped with two of them.

Her eyes scanned frantically over the scene. They were too deep into the woods at Thornhill for anyone of assistance to be nearby, and she knew she wouldn't make it very far with tied hands anyway.

Her heart sank.

Planned. This was all planned out.

And there was a fear to that she didn't know how to describe.

Edgar stepped forward, shaking out the black hood in his grip. "That should be enough for tonight," he purred, the grin still cutting into her as he stalked towards her. Betty turned her faltering glower towards Penelope, who gave a self-satisfied wave as burlap was pulled tersely over her head.

Jughead lay in the dark room atop an unmade bed. He had his legs stretched out and one hand tucked behind his head, the other twirled a plastic FBI badge. His shoulder bag lay in a heap on the floor next to his laptop, the lid left open, bathing Jughead in its cold, blue light.

He stared blankly into the blue void, his mind agonizing over all the minutia of what his conversation and investigation would be like in the morning.

He looked at the badge - the big, bold "FBI" letters screaming at him. It might as well have been a big neon sign telling him to "Find Betty Immediately" since everything somehow reminded him of his girlfriend. He sighed and began tapping the badge lightly on his chest, turning his head to stare around the room.

A few shapes were illuminated by the light from the computer – heaps of clothes spread sloppily over the floor, a dresser, Betty's vanity.

Jughead shuddered. He tried to stay away from thinking about what her conditions were like, but he couldn't help it staring at all the familiar comforts of the bedroom. Did she have a bed? Was she sleeping? Was she eating?

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the unpleasant thoughts and rolled over.

Gazing one last time into the blue of his computer screen, Jughead leaned down and shut it, throwing the room into complete darkness.

All he knew was that - no matter what - he was bound and determined to get his girlfriend back.

Betty lay in the dark room atop an unmade bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She could feel a waning dose of sedative and was nowhere near sleep. A steady stream of rain fell outside the window, each drop hammering into her already thunderous mind.

Flashes of that grotesque night from the spring played behind her eyes, now muddled with images of the evening's events – Edgar's face doused in light and shadow, Penelope's evil grins, phantoms of her friends – all the while still overlapped by those piercing green eyes and a gunshot.

She curled her hands instinctively into fists, her nails threatening to break the scarred skin.

No. No! Betty gripped the edge of the bed, keeping her fingers away from her palms as a few silent tears slid down her cheeks.

She looked around the room, trying to center on something. Her eyes fell over the two small windows, the dresser, and then the nightstand, but she ended up fixing her gaze on the ruts in the wall, just barely visible in the faint moonlight. She slowed her breathing, inhaling deep breath after deep breath.

After what felt like hours to her, Betty rolled onto her back and stared once again at the ceiling. Playing along was presenting itself as a potentially fatal gamble, as who knew what else was in Edgar's plan.

She had no definitive escape plan yet.

But all she knew was that - no matter what - she had to get out of there.

Author's Notes: So sorry for taking so long! I really wanted to try to keep to a weekly posting schedule, but my leaner summer schedule at work is rapidly coming to an end and I have a job where my work usually spills over my actual office hours. So, I'm aiming for biweekly postings now.

Plus, chapters are going to be pretty chunky from here on out. As always, if you're enjoying, please leave a review! I really love hearing from you about what is sticking out/how everyone receives the story!

Cheryl, Toni, Kevin, (and Alice!) will be popping up more regularly moving forward, so stay tuned! I'm pretty pumped about this story and am really enjoying writing it!