Chapter 12 – Pandora's Box

Time.

One of those great mysteries of the universe. It's perceived differently by everyone at every moment, just as two people on opposite sides of the planet can look up at the same night sky and see different constellations. It's been said to heal all wounds yet also cause wars. Is it a straight line, cyclical, or a ball of string?

We could be frozen in time, ahead or behind the times, and even be in double time. So is it an illusion or is it simply something boundless? Regardless of whether we made it up or were trapped within its limits, time felt as though it was both halted and racing forward relentlessly. And we were left entirely and unequivocally at its mercy.

Jughead was hunched over a desk in the Blue & Gold office scribbling ardently on scrap pieces of paper. The newspaper had fallen dormant while its editor was missing in action, so Jughead had taken to hiding away in the office when he wanted to be alone during school hours.

He looked at the crumpled note containing the letters from Betty's clue and looked back at his new scribbles, sounding things out on his lips.

raoiton"

After Edgar, these were the leftover letters. "I ran to?" Jughead muttered out loud, holding up his paper. "No, that can't be right." He crossed that out. "Not in? No, there's only one 'n'." He crossed that out angrily, too.

He stared down at it some more and let out a frustrated grunt. Why couldn't he figure this out? Why was this so hard?

He pulled open the drawer closest to him and looked down. Betty's laptop was stowed inside and he tapped his fingers on top of it. He sighed; Nancy Drew had managed to leave a breadcrumb, a crafty one too, but Jughead wasn't as clever as she.

The final bell rang and he stuffed the crumpled notes into his bag. He strode over to the door but stopped and let his gaze hover back to the drawer. He walked back over and tapped his fingers once on the desk then quickly pulled the laptop out of the drawer and placed it into his bag; he would finally take it home today, the place it was supposed to be headed all along.

The fire crackled and popped, its red and orange flames dancing and twisting in the space above the grate. An ember hissed and spat, shooting out of the fireplace and onto the floor in front of Betty. She stared down at the smoldering cinder, vacantly watching as it sizzled out.

She felt cold despite the proximity to the fire. She was fighting cycles of feeling overwhelmed and feeling numb, and the bouts of numbness had been growing longer and deeper over the past few days. Her stomach clenched and twisted at random moments, and a few nights she had even woken up grasping at her throat, the itch of dirt trickling down her neck.

There was a rattling at the door and Edgar walked inside, once more carrying a hood and needle in his hands. He knelt down beside her.

"Good afternoon, Betty, how are you today?"

Betty continued to stare at the fire.

Edgar bobbed his head and stood up, heading into the kitchen. "Let's put that fire out for now, shall we? Don't want it to get out of hand while we're gone." He walked back over with a glass of water and tossed it over the flames, the November chill promptly creeping its way back into the room.

He knelt back down and produced the needle out in front of him. "Betty, I have to put you under again," he said, reaching forward toward the blanket around her.

"Just do it," she said wearily, slowly turning her head toward Edgar and dropping the blanket away from her arm.

He smiled and slid the needle into her arm. "If you're this good the whole time, I may just let you stay awake for the trip back."

Betty closed her eyes and listened to the hiss of the dying fire, letting the approaching blackness wash over her.

Veronica pushed open the door to Pop's and yawned, leaning up against the front counter. "Hey Pop, can I get an order to go? And a really big cup of coffee?"

Pop looked up from his notepad and smiled at the young woman. "Veronica! Haven't seen you around much lately." He poured a to-go cup and slid it across the counter. "It's felt mighty empty in here without you four around."

Veronica frowned and crossed her hands on the countertop. "Sorry, Pop, ever since I handed over the speakeasy responsibilities to Reggie, I haven't really had a lot of reasons to come in. It just…hasn't felt right to me either."

He sighed and gave her a sympathetic nod. "I'll get your order ready. It'll be a few minutes." He disappeared through the doors to the kitchen, leaving Veronica to herself in the front of the sleepy diner. She looked along the counter and was startled to see a patch reading "Lodge Detention Center," down the row.

"Mr. Keller?" Veronica exclaimed, walking over to him, "You're working at my dad's prison?"

Tom wiped his hands and turned toward her. "Hello to you too, Veronica. And yes I am. Thought it about time to get back in the game."

Veronica plopped down in the seat next to him. "But at my dad's prison?"

He sighed, "Work is work, Veronica."

She nodded to the side. A smile curled at the corner of her mouth. "Well," she said, drawing out the word, "that does put you on the inside…"

"No," Tom shot back quickly, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Veronica stuck out her lip. "Come on, Mr. Keller, you didn't even know what I was going to say."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Oh no? You weren't going to ask me if I might have seen or overheard anything? Something suspicious or dubious perhaps?

Veronica blinked, still batting her eyes at him.

Tom raised his mug to his mouth and stared back at the teen.

"Well?"

"Veronica!" Tom said exasperatedly, a coy smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. He looked around the diner. "You really think your father's up to something, don't you?"

"He's always up to something," Veronica fired back. "He pulled strings from behind bars the last time he was there."

Mr. Keller put down his drink and looked over his shoulder, then leaned closer to her. "Alright. Well, I have noticed that Hiram's got himself a little band of followers, and he's ruffing up his own security detail. And our training's been an absolute joke."

Veronica recoiled slightly, knitting her brow. "Hmm," she tapped her fingers along the counter. "He's collecting loyalty, is he? First he releases a prisoner and now this?"

"He what?" Tom almost choked on an onion ring.

"Veronica, here's your order!" Pop emerged from the back carrying a white bag.

She took it from him with a smile and turned back to Tom, "Mr. Keller, we'll have to discuss this further. Have a good rest of your night!"

She scurried out of the diner, leaving Tom Keller shaking his head and staring after her quizzically.

"Up! Feign left, duck, now side jab!" Archie called as TJ landed a punch on his mitt, sending him faltering back a bit. "Nice moves!" he smiled, pulling off his mitt and giving TJ a high-five.

TJ threw a teasing punch into Archie's side. "Thanks!"

Archie laughed and raised his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. "Let's take a breather."

He looked back and TJ was staring wide-eyed at him. "What?"

TJ pointed towards his chest and Archie glanced down, quickly dropping his shirt. "Oh yeah, those. They're from a bear."

"You fought a bear?" TJ sounded in awe. "That's so cool!"

Archie hopped down from the ring and turned back to help TJ down. "Cool isn't the word I would've used to describe it, but I guess I do look cool now, don't I?" He chuckled and led TJ to a cluster of couches and chairs in a corner of the room. TJ flopped down on a beanbag chair while Archie grabbed both of them waters.

"So," Archie said between gulps, "how's this week been?"

TJ leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, juggling his water bottle. "Fine, I guess. It was mostly good, but Dad came home really angry last night. And he smelled like the bar."

Archie frowned. "Did anything happen?"

TJ shrugged and turned over, "No, he just yelled a lot and locked himself in the bedroom. I had to make myself dinner." He resumed juggling his water bottle.

Archie leaned back in his seat. Maybe they should think about doing a community potluck sometime in the future, or at least a pizza night. He'd have to talk to Mad Dog about it.

"You know, one of my friends went through something similar to you. His mom was gone and his dad was a mess, coming back smelling like the bar a lot, too. It was so bad at one point that he stopped living with his dad."

"What happened?" TJ asked, shifting his body to face Archie.

"My dad took him in and I got a roommate," Archie smiled, "And his dad ended up realizing how bad it had gotten and put in a lot of work to get better. Now he's a cop." TJ didn't look convinced. "So maybe your dad's not so great at the moment, but he can get better. But he has to make that choice himself." Archie ran a hand through his hair. "What else does your dad do? Do you have anything in common?"

TJ scrunched his eyebrows together, thinking about that for a moment. "We both cry sometimes."

Archie's heart sank. He dropped from the couch, positioning himself on the ground next to TJ. "Because of your mom. It still stings, doesn't it?"

TJ had been staring at the ground and when he turned to look at Archie, his eyes were red. "I just want to hug her again."

Archie bit his lip; he could feel his eyes starting to water too. "I know how that feels, it's hard. I lost my dad a few months ago and I still cry. I just want to talk to him one last time."

"I still talk to my mom," TJ sniffed, wiping his eyes. "I talk to her every night before bed."

"Oh yeah?" Archie asked softly, crossing his legs. "Does she say anything back?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, but I like to believe she can still hear me."

Archie's lip quivered and he looked over into the office. He had hung a picture of Fred in the window and he could see it from where they were sitting. "Yeah," he clamped a hand on TJ's shoulder. "I bet she can."

He stayed there for a moment and wiped his own eyes. He took another look at his dad's picture, then turned to TJ. "Come on, let's get back in the ring." Archie sprung up and reached a hand out "You want to learn how to fight a bear?"

Jughead walked through the front door to his house and began trotting up the steps, but stopped and backtracked, turning to look into the living room. FP, Gladys, and Jellybean were all sitting around the coffee table. There was a suitcase at Gladys' feet.

"What's going on?" Jughead asked leerily, stepping into the room.

"Jughead, come sit down, son," FP said, motioning him toward the couch next to Jellybean. He sat down hesitantly, looking at Jellybean. She gave him a nervous look back.

"Kids, your mother and I have been talking a lot over the past few days," FP began, tossing Gladys looks from time to time. "We've been asking ourselves about what it is we've really been looking for, what pictures of the family we've been holding onto. And we mutually agreed upon the fact that we've been holding onto a picture that never existed, a frame that can't be repaired in the way we wanted."

"And both of us are okay with that. No one is to blame for anything, no matter what happened in the past," Gladys joined in, looking between Jughead and Jellybean. "We're just growing up and growing apart." She glanced at FP. "The puzzle piece is a bit bent and battered and just doesn't quite fit in place anymore."

Jughead placed his chin in his hands, his eyes darting between his parents. "Are you saying you're splitting?"

FP gave a small nod. "We are. But with no hurt, no hard feelings. We both initially thought we wanted the family back together, and we still do! But what we realize now is that together doesn't always mean physically together. And what we were actually looking for was closure."

"So you're leaving again?" JB stammered, a quiver forming on her lip.

Gladys reached over and laid a hand on her knee. "I am, baby. My life isn't in Riverdale anymore."

"But your life is with us!" Jellybean cried.

"Always, JB, always. Which is why we're giving you two a choice." Gladys looked between JB and Jughead. "I didn't give you one last time, I just left, and I know you felt abandoned."

"You're a part of this too, kids, we didn't want to make all the final decisions," FP chimed in. "So, if you would like, you can decide where you would like to go, if you want to stay here in Riverdale or go with your mother."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jughead asserted. "I'm staying right here in Riverdale."

Gladys nodded. "We figured as much, but we still wanted you to know that you had the choice."

Jughead let his face relax slightly. He did appreciate that.

"JB? What about you?" Gladys softened her gaze.

Jellybean looked at Jughead, then darted her eyes between FP and Gladys.

"Mom," she started, "I love you, but I think I need to stay here. Jughead needs a sister."

Gladys sucked her lip and looked down. Jughead looked at his sister. She had tears in her eyes and she leaned into him for a side hug. He looked up at FP, who's eyes also had the faint appearance of forming tears.

Gladys rubbed her hands on her knees and stood, FP quickly following. "I'm headed back to Toledo tonight. No more junkyard though, I found a nice little apartment. Any of you are welcome to visit any time." She looked at FP as she walked to the door. "Any of you."

Jellybean rushed into her arms. Gladys wrapped her in a hug back and Jughead joined. As they pulled away, Jughead asked, "So, what are you going to do?"

Gladys wiped her eyes, "Honestly I'm thinking about taking online classes, try to get a real business degree." She smiled.

"That sounds good," Jughead returned the smile. He went in for another hug. "I'll definitely take you up on your offer."

"Oh, Jughead." She rubbed his back. "Everything's going to work out. Keep me updated, okay?"

He nodded and they pulled apart, smiling through watery eyes at each other. Gladys grabbed her suitcase and opened the front door. She turned around and gave Jellybean another hug before looking at FP. "Stay golden, old man."

FP put his hands on his hips and smirked at her. The door shut and the three Jones' were left standing in a quiet foyer. FP put his arms around JB and Jughead, "We're still a family no matter what. Even if we're not under the same roof, we'll always be a family."

Orange lanterns lined the grounds of the Thornhill cemetery, their flames mixing with the silver moonlight streaming down through the thick trees surrounding the grove. Cheryl stood in a billowy black dress above an open grave, holding one of the lanterns over a cherry wood casket that glowed faintly under the flicker of the flame.

Toni gently paced next to her, stopping every now and then to glance toward the small path leading up to the shrouded cemetery.

Cheryl turned her head as footsteps sounded against the small stone walkway. Kevin strode up with his hands in his pockets, an incensed frown on his face.

"Why'd you invite me here, Cheryl?" He asked, looking down at the dug-up grave. "Are you having a funeral?"

"Kevin, thank you for coming." Cheryl chimed, setting down the lantern. "Yes, for JJ."

Kevin huffed, "He already had one. And why am I the only one here beside you two?"

"The first one doesn't count, that one was under my parent's malevolent shadow and none of us could properly grieve. So, now we're here to grieve." She put a hand on Toni's shoulder and gave Kevin a sad plead. "Just stay and listen, okay? We wanted another friend with us."

He snorted a second time, but nodded, positioning himself at the end of the grave. Cheryl stepped forward and straightened up, casting a glance up at the moon before beginning.

"Jason," Cheryl started, her voice soft and sorrowful, "you were the best brother there was. You showed me how to protect and care for others, especially when they didn't know they needed to be cared for." Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and she began sniffling. She glanced over at Kevin; he was still just staring stone-faced at the grave.

"I never got a real chance to say goodbye. Life's curious that way; we always think there's more time - that there's another day always around the corner where we'll see a smile, hear a laugh. But time flutters away, leaving behind only a distant echo. The smiles become ghastly grins and the laughter a whispered wind and nothing more."

Cheryl's sniffling was now joined by a few broken hiccups coming from Kevin. His mouth was drawn tight and his shoulders were tense but quivering. Toni looked over, pulling him closer. The pale moonlight and soft flicker of the lanterns threw a strange crisscross of shadows and light around the small cemetery, and one stray moonbeam glistened against the silent, heavy tears falling around the open grave.

"You just wanted a life away from the Gothic bedlam that comes with being a Blossom, however that life was stolen from you. The dark hole left in my heart after that day has followed me, and it seems like it's spilled out all over the town. It's just been a cycle of loss and hurt since you left, Jason. But today that cycle ends." She bent down and picked up a handful of dirt, sniffling, then tossed it onto the shining casket below. "Today I fill in the space between us and as this dirt fills your grave, so it fills up my heart, and once again we can share in something." Cheryl felt a warmth slip between her fingers, and she squeezed, wrapping her hand over Toni's.

"Intertwined we were, intertwined we still are. May you rest in peace, JJ."

Toni stepped forward, tossing in another handful of dirt. She turned around and guided a now sniveling Kevin toward the pile of dirt. He bent down and shoved a hand into the soft earth, but then he stopped and just blinked toward the pile. Suddenly, Kevin's knees hit the ground and he shoved both hands into the dirt, squeezing at the dark soil. A deep sob escaped his lips and tears trickled down his face, little puddles of mud forming where they landed.

Cheryl immediately dropped beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. She looked over his back at Toni, who had come upon his other side, a look of distress on her face.

"Kevin?" Cheryl asked softly. He had rocked backward and was now sitting in the grass, wringing his muddy hands together while staring blankly ahead. His mouth opened and a cracked whisper came out.

Cheryl frowned, leaning forward toward Kevin. His mouth was moving, but he seemed to have lost his voice. Finally, he took a deep breath and repeated his words.

"I never got to say goodbye, either."

He curled his fingers and stared down at the ground. "Everything happened so quickly. I never got to say goodbye, I never got to say anything really. To Joaquin. He was just gone." Another wave of tears starting rolling down his face. Cheryl and Toni both leaned back and sat down with him. Moonbeams had fallen scattered over the cemetery, the shadows from clouds and tree branches shimmering amidst the silver light.

"And then Moose left, and my parents split, and everything just…fell apart. There was no time to process, to grieve. I just spiraled. Everyone was leaving me, and the only ones that seemed to notice were Evelyn and Edgar."

Cheryl and Toni exchanged a quick glance, then Toni rubbed Kevin's arm. "We know."

Kevin looked between the two of them with a tear-stained face. "I thought they understood me. I thought they were making me stronger, but they were just numbing me to the truth. And this-," he gestured his head toward Jason's grave, "-this is the truth. Because the truth is that they left, too, they hurt us. They were always planning to leave us even more broken than before."

He looked down at the ground and wiped a hand across his face. "I wanted this pain to be gone so badly that I was just too prideful to see it. I was trying to hang onto something that was never there."

He hiccupped and whimpered through another small sob. Cheryl looked over toward the grave, a fresh tear rolling down her cheek. "Kevin, we were all tricked by that demon, don't blame yourself."

"I was such a jerk, Cheryl!" He yelled, rubbing a muddy hand over his face. "You were right that day at school, I was taking my pain out on everyone. I didn't mean what I said, I-I don't know why I lashed out like that." He closed his eyes and a small gust of wind swirled the hair hanging over his forehead. "Betty cared about me the whole time and I pushed her away. When Jughead started talking about how good a friend she was at the rally, and how she needed family, all I could think about was the night she tried to get us out of The Farm and how she needed a friend then and all I did was drag her right to Edgar." He glanced uneasily at Jason's casket. "And now she's gone too, dragged back to Edgar and for all we know, she might not even be alive. And I might never get to say sorry. I'll never get to say goodbye."

Cheryl felt as though a bolt of lightning had just ripped through her. It had crossed her mind – she figured it had crossed a lot of people's minds – but this was the first time someone had dared to say that out loud.

She stood up and brushed herself off, sticking a hand down to Kevin. "Betty's still alive." Kevin grabbed her hand and pulled himself up. Toni followed. "We have to believe that she's okay. We won't have to say goodbye."

She ushered Kevin over to the edge of Jason's grave and grabbed another handful of dirt, placing it in Kevin's. "And for her sake, let's finally let go of all those ties we have to Edgar's lies. Starting here."

Cheryl smiled up at Kevin, who gave her a weak smile back, but with shining eyes. He looked down and threw the handful of dirt on top of the casket. "May Jason, and every wound his death beget, finally be laid to rest."

Drip.

The sluggish dribble of a water droplet met Betty's ears as she slowly awoke.

A damp chill pierced the air, seeping its way through her clothes. She inhaled an icy breath and blinked, rolling her sagging head forward. A musty stench tickled her nose, causing her to sneeze. Her hair hung in her eyes but she could make out fuzzy shapes around the room. She shook her head and squinted against the harsh fluorescent light that flooded the room, throwing everything around her into a cold, sterile glow.

There was a small flight of steps in front of her, curving into a steeper, dingy stairwell, and the faint, droning hum of a large refrigerator whirred through an open door to the right. Neglected boxes and shelves lined most of the walls while a long, white standing freezer was tucked into one of the corners.

Betty felt ice spreading through her veins and trickling down her arms, freezing her quivering fingertips. She was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room with her wrists tied down.

She looked up as Edgar appeared in the open doorway, leaning casually up against the frame. "You've never seen this place in person, have you? Only ever from behind a video screen?" He had a curious tone in his voice.

She didn't look at him but continued to stare around the rundown basement, the ice in her body still coursing.

"It's rather providential that this place is still standing. I heard it had been bought up and set to be demolished and yet, here it is, still standing. Perhaps waiting for you." He had walked into the room and was standing directly in front of her now.

Drip. Water was falling somewhere in an unknown corner.

Edgar pulled out a small tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the ground between them.

Betty's eyes widened as she stared at it, "Why…why do you have that?" she asked through a whisper.

"Oh, it's just for my records, to go along with all the other testimonies." He smiled, pressing the record button.

Betty tensed. He hadn't brought that with them before.

"When trying to figure out the sources and causes of trauma in someone, the path usually leads backward through different points of conflict and pain, much like how we've been revisiting certain places." Edgar began to pace steadily back and forth. "But there are branches and there are roots. What we've visited so far were only branches – symptoms that grow out of a root. And so I knew I had to find that root for you, Betty, and after studying and hearing parts of your story and that from others, it became clear - we had to go back to the very beginning."

Betty gulped and looked down at the floor. Under the harsh glow from the light above, she thought she could just make out a thin dark line snaking across the floor. She told herself it was just a watermark.

Edgar placed his hands in his pockets and continued, continued in that horrible rhythmic tenor of his. "One infinitesimal moment in time can become the backdrop for the rest of our lives, stuck replaying in our heads, the framework by which we understand everything else." He looked past Betty into the dark corners of the room. "Take the viewing of a solemn, silent video clip for example; no one knew the extent of the ripples it would cause, ripples that flowed through Pickens Park and Thornhill, ripples that are still flowing to this day."

An unpleasant tightness was griping Betty's chest, and she could feel her chin begin to quiver. She was alarmingly aware of the sharp burn of the ropes digging into her wrists, and her insides felt like paper. The piercing sound of a water droplet was ricocheting around the room.

"Finding that video did something to you, didn't it? It may have yielded answers to an open case, but at what cost? The first wound opened; the original trauma. If I had to guess, Betty," Edgar said, kneeling in front of her, "this was your point of no return."

She hiccupped a sob. It had revealed the answer to Jason's murder, but it had also released something, as if some primeval spirit had crawled out from the depths of that video and out into the world without her noticing. That harrowing image of Jason being shot by his own father had stirred a deep sorrow that had never faded but instead sat aching, gnawing in the back of her mind.

Edgar rose slowly and as Betty looked up, he seemed taller than normal. "Is it haunting, Betty? To have stepped through the veil and into Jason's place? To have watched such a young man, a child, be drained of life right before your eyes in this very spot?"

Betty felt something drip onto her pants. Was it her tears? Was it the leaking water? "Edgar, stop…" she blearily pleaded.

"Everything started after this point. The pendulum stirred and a cycle was set in motion. So much pain, so much death entered your life after this. All the places we've been, they all originated here. Your path is forever intertwined with this point in time, this lingering whisper that calls to you through your dreams, beckoning you to come back." He stopped, facing the open doorway to the right and reached inside his coat. "Which is why it has to end here."

He slowly pulled his hand out from his coat, revealing a shining revolver, and pointed it directly at Betty.

A mournful cry burst from her lips and she instinctively started straining against the ropes around her wrists. An itch had started on her neck but she couldn't reach it. The stale air flooded her sense of smell and her eyes blurred, the harsh sheen from the gun blinding her. The galling dripping slowed to a thunderous hum, ringing in her ears.

Is this what it had felt like for him?

Betty turned her head slowly toward the back corner of the basement, forcing her eyes up as she shook. There, in the crook of the back wall was a small cavity, a few fraying wires sticking out of it.

She gulped in a breath, tears sliding down her cheeks, a phantom red light slowly blinking behind her eyes. At least there would be no footage to be found this time, no echo of her torment left for her friends to find.

But would they ever know?

Betty turned back, staring at the tape slowly spinning inside the recorder sitting on the floor. She closed her eyes and let the tears rush freely down her face.

Was this moment doomed to vanish into time and shadow, its desperate cry tumbling endlessly through the dark as Jason's once had? Would her friends and family have to guess how death had greeted her, how her final moments had been spent?

"I'm just a kid, Edgar," Betty cried weakly, "Don't do this, I'm just a kid."

"That's right," Edgar gloated, "You're just a child. You are, and always have been, just a scared little kid in over her head."

Something strikingly cold pressed up against her forehead. Betty winced at the chill and icy tendrils were suddenly coiling back down her skin. Everything was flashing all at once in her head – places, eyes, smiles, laughs, cries, frowns, pain, death. Everything. All at once.

"It's my fault," came her startled croak, spitting out the hysterical confession that had fallen like an eclipse over her mind. "Oh God, it's all my fault."

For an agonizingly long moment, the gun remained against her forehead, and then it was pulled away. Edgar slowly dropped down in front of her. "What's that?" he asked smugly.

Betty coughed out a distorted cry and shook her head, trying to shake away the icy grip that was still prickling on her forehead. She opened her eyes and even through blurred vision, she could see the mirth twinkling in Edgar's eyes.

"I found the video. I brought all the hurt, all the darkness on everyone. I opened the box," Betty sobbed, her nose running, "I opened the box."

"Ah, there it is," Edgar gently drawled, smiling triumphantly. "You've finally understood."

He bent down and picked up the tape recorder, stopping it.

Betty let out a winced gasp. Edgar looked back at her sadly and frowned. "There's no need to cry, I wasn't going to shoot you." He patted under her chin. "Shhh, it's alright," he hushed, "This was the only way to get you to where you needed to be. It's over now."

He reached down and began untying her hands. Betty stared straight ahead, pulling in agitated breaths.

"My time as your guide is drawing to a close," he said, ripping away the last of the rope, "I have led you through the necessary trials, now it's your turn to wrestle alone and decide what threshold to cross. You can stop the cycle, Betty."

He pulled her shaking frame upright and smiled. "You've been so good today, how would you like to stay awake for the trip home, hm?"

Betty didn't look at him, she could only stare at the dirty wall behind him. She reached up and rubbed her neck.

He continued, "You can feel just how far you've come. But you do still have to wear this."

Edgar grabbed the hood from one of the shelves and pulled it over her head. The glaring light was swallowed up and the dripping faded as he directed her up the small staircase and out the basement door. She stumbled through the dark until they came up to what must've been the car and she was gently pushed onto the backseat.

Betty trembled, pressing herself into the seat. The car started and lurched as they drove off. She whimpered; maybe it was for the best she was leaving Riverdale, maybe now she couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

I wonder what would happen if we were to draw back the curtains on all the stuffy and cobweb-riddled rooms in our minds. What long-forgotten relics and chests would be revealed under the billows of swirling dust that sparkled under the new light? Was embracing the ghosts the answer to moving forward? These were the questions that nagged at the friends in the middle of the night as they lay in empty, cobwebbed rooms of their own. Time was moving one way but the mind another.

Morning came to slowly pull back the curtain to the new day, the shadow followed. The gossamer threads wouldn't shake. The wind was shifting. And that begged an entirely new question - in whose favor?

Soft morning light trickled through the bare trees and onto the gravel path as the cruiser rolled to a stop. FP slammed the door shut as he peered into the expanse of woods stretching out before him. He swallowed and began walking down the lightly worn path through the trees and bushes, running his fingers over the inked words on the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Betty was a tough girl, FP knew that, but he wasn't sure how long her physical and mental stamina could hold, especially one-on-one against a lunatic who was no doubt bent on revenge. She was just a kid after all; she should never have had to endure something like this. All of the teens had been through things they never should have had to experience at their young age.

FP watched the branches rustle in the whistling wind. Autumn was aging and FP kicked through a pile of red and brown leaves that swirled at his feet.

Becoming the sheriff had been a blessing - FP felt he was finally playing an active part in the fight against the injustice in the town, but it also came with its fair share of curses. One of those being that now anytime his phone rang he held his breath. He feared that any call could be about Jughead or Jellybean, or Archie or Veronica, just as one had been about Betty. His paternal protection extended to a whole host of friends in Riverdale, particularly now that Fred was gone. And FP just didn't think he could stomach another call about an out-of-town body recovery.

So he had to make damn sure that he was trying everything he possibly could to make sure Betty came home and this seemed like one of the threads that were discarded too soon. Chic's red herring had shaken everyone so much that no one had thought to revisit this particular part of the mystery, so FP thought it best to at least try another look. Maybe the beginning was the answer to the end.

FP approached the cabin and looked up at its looming frame as he climbed the small steps. The initial police examination after finding Chic's body had yielded nothing, but something about his death still nagged at FP. Even now knowing about Edgar, this portion of the abduction just didn't quite add up.

The creep was methodical. That's what he had gathered from everything so far. The guy had managed to quietly disappear with an entire group of people with almost no traces as to where. That is, no traces until Betty had managed to leave one.

FP walked around the small interior of the cabin, stopping to crouch down in the middle of the floor. Maybe that's why despite all of his thoroughness, Edgar had left the hole in the middle of the park; maybe Betty had thrown him off and broken his tedious concentration.

FP cracked a small smile; months of nothing but cold trails and dead ends on the case with The Farm, and then, even as a missing person, Betty was still solving cases for them. You couldn't keep a good detective down, even amid the awful circumstances.

He grimaced. Although he also couldn't help but wonder if Betty had paid for that little tip, if maybe the blood they had found had been from more than just an accidental cut or scrape. And on top of that, there was still the troubling question as to why Edgar had taken the teen there in the first place.

He stood up and shook the thought off, walking back outside. FP tramped over the hard ground as he circled the exterior of the cabin. It was so quiet now, so pristine. The police had cleaned up all signs of Chic, and there had been no fingerprints or footprints or anything found onsite. All of the evidence had been disposed of and wrapped up neatly, just how Edgar liked it.

And yet something was still so wrong about this. Edgar had taken Betty during the night, but Chic hadn't shown up until after noon the next day. If the scramble had been created as a diversion to get out of Riverdale unnoticed, then waiting around to shoot Chic seemed counterproductive. And, while psychotic, Edgar didn't seem the theatrical type. At least not the type of dramatic theatrics the goose chase with Chic warranted. All of the moody candles and white outfits in the pictures he had seen were another story.

No, something still didn't add up. FP scanned the woods surrounding the cabin and let out a frustrated yell. There was a hole in the story as Jughead would say.

FP circled back to his cruiser and sighed. Even after multiple attempts to get him to clear his head and focus, FP could see that Jughead was still so close to the case he couldn't see the forest for the trees. Thankfully the anagram Betty had left gave him something concrete to focus on; hopefully, it would serve as the grounding agent that all of the talks and thinking space just couldn't quite give him.

He ducked into the car and started the ignition. He looked at the note in his hand one last time before throwing it onto the seat next to him. Hopefully Jughead was having better luck, hopefully, he would find something that would fill this nagging hole.

Alice paced back and forth down one of the long hallways in the school building, taking caution to keep her footsteps fairly quiet.

Edgar had come back earlier in the day with a gratified and almost greedy look about him. He had gathered everyone together and triumphantly announced that the time had come to prepare for another purification and that the new followers were ready to join the elders in ascendance.

And that terrified Alice. That almost certainly meant something had happened to Betty. And now Edgar was trying to cover his tracks.

And she hadn't been able to do anything about it. Again. But that didn't mean she couldn't do anything now. If Edgar had indeed traveled back to Riverdale, then she had to find her way there immediately. And she had to stop The Farm from moving again with all the kids still here. But she also couldn't tip them off or that would just endanger everyone.

So Alice had figured out what she needed to do to act urgently yet still remain undercover. And an opportunity was fast approaching.

Penelope had appeared from one of the rooms down the hall and was turned around. Alice took the chance to dart around the corner. As she heard footsteps draw closer, she straightened up and turned the corner, humming to herself and looking absently around the hall. And just as she had planned, she collided directly into Penelope.

"Oh!" Alice called apologetically, watching Penelope's purse spill over the ground. "I didn't see you there. So sorry, here let me help you." She stooped down and began to collect the spilled items.

Penelope growled and slapped her hand away. "No, Alice. I'll take care of this." She hurriedly shoved everything into her purse and stood up. "What's one more mess to clean up," she muttered to herself.

Alice straightened up as well, brushing herself off. "Are you going somewhere, Penelope?"

"Just off to have a little bit of fun. This place doesn't offer much of that and thankfully I'm not bound by that little curfew Edgar's set in place," Penelope crooned, smiling as she hefted the purse back over her arm. "Ta ta Alice, hope your night isn't too drab."

Alice smiled and watched Penelope disappear around the corner. As soon as her footsteps faded far enough away, she shuffled against the wall and looked down anxiously at her hand, clutching the small black phone close to her chest.

"Hi, Dad. Sorry it's been so long since we've talked." Archie brushed a small pile of leaves away from the headstone and leaned back so he was crouched down in front of it. "Everything's been so crazy."

Archie stared at the ground, watching the grass gently swirl in the breeze. The sun was setting overhead and the whole cemetery was cast in a golden haze.

"Mom's back. For good this time, and Veronica and I are doing well. They both think about you a lot too." He fiddled with his gloves and took a deep breath. "I met a kid at the community center. His name is TJ. He lost a parent too and reminded me that I haven't talked to you in a while." Archie scrunched up his face, fighting the lump in his throat.

"I'm really trying to be strong, Dad, but who am I kidding? Things actually aren't that great. Jughead won't listen to me. I remember at one point in time, he reminded me that just trying to talk to each other went a long way but now he won't listen to his own advice." He sniffled and leaned forward. "And I really don't want to lose Betty. We have no idea what she's been going through, and well-," he wiped his nose on his sleeve, "-if anything happens, I really don't want her to die alone."

He looked up at Fred's headstone and rocked forward, throwing an arm over the top of it.

"You always knew what to say. You always knew what to do in situations like this. And I don't know how you did it." Tears splashed onto the grass at Archie's feet. "Every time I try to think through, like, really think through how to go about all these problems, I just choke up. So I've just been blocking them out every time something threatens to overwhelm. How'd you stay so calm, Dad? How'd you make all the tough decisions?"

Archie leaned into the stone, wind and tears stinging his face. "I miss you so much. I hope you can hear me, Dad. If you can, could you send me a sign? I need a direction. I love you so much and I don't know how to do this without you."

"And if…" The thought that had bounced into Archie's head made him stop. He lowered his head, sucking in a deep breath, "and if Betty happens to already be where you are, tell her hi for me, okay? I know you're watching out for her." Another stream of tears tumbled down his face and onto the cold stone.

Whoop, whoop!

Archie lifted his head and squinted through blurry eyes toward the street. The sheriff's cruiser was pulling up right outside of the cemetery.

Archie jogged over as FP rolled his window down, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes. "Hey, Mr. Jones, what are you doing here?"

"Just heading back to the station. I've been out all day retracing steps." He regarded Archie with a despondent look. "Just trying to figure out what to do next."

"Yeah," Archie answered, looking back over his shoulder into the cemetery, "Me too."

FP followed his gaze. "I miss your dad, too, Archie. I hope you know that you're always welcome at my house, no matter where you and Jughead may stand. Your dad always looked after my boy, now I'm going to make sure I look after his."

Archie nodded, pushing back another wave of tears. "Thank you, Mr. Jones. Speaking of Jughead," he said, a sudden realization coming to him, "do you know where he is? I think I need to try talking to him again."

FP shook his head. "Not entirely sure. He left on his bike earlier today. His mom left yesterday, did you know that?" Archie shook his head. "Yeah, I can't tell if he's upset or relieved. Either way, he's been putting all his time into figuring out the rest of the clue from Betty."

Archie cocked his head, his eyes widening, "What? Betty left a clue?"

FP looked at Archie in shock. "Wow, you two really haven't been speaking. We found her FBI badge in Pickens Park with an anagram on it. That's how we found out Edgar's name, but we haven't been able to figure out the rest."

Archie's heart was racing. He pulled away and began to jog away from the cruiser.

"Hey!" FP called out his window, "You need a ride somewhere?"

"No!" Archie shouted back, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went, "I've got my car. I'm going to find Jughead, I think I know where he is."

He stumbled as he reached the truck. As he pulled open the driver's side door, he paused, taking a moment to glance through the window back into the cemetery. Smiling, he jumped into the truck, slamming the door behind him.

Kevin stared in the mirror as he finished buttoning his shirt. After hooking the last button, he let his arms fall to his sides and blinked at his reflection. "You can do this," he whispered to himself, practicing a smile. It still looked a bit foreign in the mirror. He shook his head and took a deep breath, grabbing his jacket off the door and bounded down the steps.

"You're on the inside, you've got access to information that I don't." He could hear voices coming from the kitchen and was surprised to find his dad in deep conversation with Veronica as he rounded the corner.

"Dad? Veronica?" Kevin asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as they both looked at him.

Tom looked at Veronica, who had grown quiet, and then up at his son. "Kev, we were just finishing up. Veronica just wanted to know a few things about the new job." He smiled as he rose from his chair. "If you can excuse us, Veronica, Kevin and I have something to attend to."

"Of course, Mr. Keller," Veronica said, looking down at her phone. "Oh, this is from Archie. Looks like I'm needed elsewhere anyway." She frowned at Kevin as she headed for the door. He tried to give her his best remorseful look. She raised an eyebrow then turned back to his dad. "Think about it, okay?"

Tom nodded, "I will. Have a good night, Veronica." He waved as she left before turning to Kevin. "Are you ready?" His voice was soft.

Kevin straightened his shoulders, his chin naturally jutting out in the process and nodded. "I have to be, it's time. I can't hold onto this anymore, especially not since it might have stopped-," his eyes began to water.

"Hey," Tom put a hand on Kevin's shoulder and squeezed. "Nothing is your fault. You needed some time." He smiled warmly. "But now you're ready and this is an important and brave next step."

Kevin nodded and wiped his eyes. "Then let's get going."

FP stood as Tom and Kevin Keller walked into the police station. He shook Tom's hand and looked over at Kevin. "Kevin, we really appreciate you being willing to give testimony against The Farm. It's vital information to the FBI, especially now with Edgar's recent activity. Are you ready?"

Kevin nodded and FP led the two of them down one of the back halls. "Now, I'm sure you're used to the process because of your old man here, but as a heads up, it won't just be me in the room with you. Agent Smith and Agent Kane from the FBI will be with me to listen and ask questions. Is that alright?"

"Yes," Kevin said, "I want this to get straight to the FBI. It should have months ago, but I was still worried about protecting the wrong people."

"That's alright, son, you're here now." FP looked over at Tom as they stopped outside one of the examination rooms. "Will you be staying with him, Tom?"

"Unfortunately not, FP. I actually have to head to work. But I know he'll be in good hands." Tom wrapped Kevin in a hug. "Proud of you." FP could hear him whisper to Kevin. They pulled away and Tom walked back toward the lobby of the station.

FP opened the door and gently ushered Kevin inside. Charles and Agent Kane were sitting at one end of the table in the room and looked up as they entered. FP could feel Kevin tense up a bit, but he placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him reassuringly. "You ready?"

Kevin looked between the two agents and then up at FP, "Let's do this."

Jughead stood leaning against the back of a chair in the bunker, staring at the board in front of him. Most of the strings and cards had been ripped off, leaving a large chunk of the board blank. Edgar's name and all the pictures he had taken of The Farm remained, now joined by the letters from Betty's clue.

His eyes burrowed into the letters, willing them to rearrange themselves. He stared and stared until the letters began to blur. Jughead clenched his fingers into the chair and screamed, throwing the chair down.

He stood in the middle of the room panting, his hair covering his eyes, and then he sank down against the wall. There was a scraping above him and footsteps sounded on the ladder.

"Jug?" Archie's voice rang through the bunker, followed by a second pair of footsteps. The hazy beam from a flashlight shone into the main room and into Jughead's face. "Jughead!" Archie clicked it off and bent down next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine, Archie," Jughead said cynically. "Just got in a little tussle with a chair, that's all." He propped himself up more gracefully against the wall. Archie glanced over at the toppled chair as Veronica stepped inside the room behind him. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I ran into your dad," Archie said, scooting himself against the wall on the other side of the opening. Veronica sat down on the bed.

Jughead placed his arm on his knee and smirked. "Ah, he sending you after me now to make sure I'm okay?"

"No, I wanted to make sure you're okay," Archie retorted, throwing Jughead a concerned look. "And he told me that he found a clue from Betty, that you were trying to figure out the rest of it."

Jughead looked between the two of them. They both looked upset, but not angry. Veronica was giving him a look as though she were waiting for him to tell her where it hurt. "Guess it's my turn to apologize," he said weakly, his chest tightening.

"I've been such a jerk to you guys. I mean, I exploded on you over and over and how did you respond? By throwing a freaking rally. And I just continued sulking and chasing my crazy theories."

"Everyone grieves differently," Archie shrugged, pulling a knee up to his chest.

Jughead shot him an exasperated look. "Come on, Archie, stop downplaying it. I was a total jerk to you."

Archie and Veronica glanced at each other then back at Jughead. "You're right. Total jerk," Veronica smiled. "And some of those theories were crazy. I mean, thinking you could case your own half-brother, who's in the FBI?"

Jughead snorted, "Hey, you just wait until your long-lost half-sibling walks into town and then we'll talk."

Veronica tilted her head in thought. "Touché." She looked back at Archie. "Archie and I do have one more thing to tell you, too."

Jughead raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Veronica and I," Archie swallowed, "we're back together."

Jughead blinked, "Yeah, I know."

"You do?" Veronica asked.

"Uh, yeah. You two enjoy touching. I wasn't that oblivious to everything else this whole time."

Veronica snickered. Archie pursed his lips. "And you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad about that?" Jughead raised a confused eyebrow.

"Well, with Betty gone I thought-,"

"You thought I might spontaneously combust at the very sight of a happy couple?" Jughead jeeringly finished his sentence. "Come on, man, I'm not that fragile."

The three chuckled and then grew silent. Archie and Veronica stared around the room absently. Jughead looked back over at the board, the letters and photographs staring back at him.

"How did we get here, guys?" Jughead wondered aloud, his voice quiet and reflective. "How did we go from running around playing tag and hide-and-seek to running around chasing leads and hiding from murderers?"

Archie laced his hands over his knee and pressed his head back against the wall. "It feels like it all goes back to that fateful Fourth of July."

"Jason's death opened up Pandora's Box and left Riverdale a mess," Jughead muttered.

"And apparently we got chosen as the cleanup crew for all the ghosts and ghouls that came out of that mess," Veronica sighed.

The bunker was quiet for a moment and then there was what sounded like muffled wheezing, and then a few moments later a strangled snort. Veronica and Jughead both turned toward Archie. His cheeks were puffed out and his face was red.

"Sorry, Ronnie," Archie choked out, unable to suppress his laughter any longer, "I'm just trying to imagine you as a ghostbuster and I can't do it."

Veronica scoffed and hit Archie with a pillow. "What! I'd be great at it. And you know I would make that suit look damn good."

Jughead snickered. "Arch, she'd probably be better than you at it." He raised his arms in front of him and pretended to shoot a proton blaster. "You'd probably be the one to end up crossing the streams."

"What? No way!" Archie protested. Veronica and Jughead looked at each other and smirked.

"Okay, fine, let's put it to a vote; which one of us would make the best ghostbuster?" They looked around at each other.

"Betty," the three said in unison, laughing again. Jughead looked back over at the board, sticking his tongue in his cheek. He looked down and fiddled with the beanie in his hands.

"I should never have tried to hide what I knew about the case from you guys. I was being selfish," he apologized. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out everything from my dad."

"Or from the all the new posters hanging around town," Veronica added, straightening back up on the bed. "I was on my way home from school when I suddenly saw Edgar's creepy sketch staring back at me from across the street."

"Yeah, Jug," Archie leaned forward, staring up at Jughead's board. "What happened? What's this message your dad told me about?"

"Well, the morning after Halloween he got called to investigate something at Pickens Park and he found Betty's FBI badge there with some of the letters crossed out. Part of it spelled out Edgar, but we haven't been able to figure out the other letters yet."

"After Halloween? Jughead that was a week ago!" Veronica gasped.

"What was at Pickens Park?" Archie asked, a hint of distress in his voice.

"It was a big empty hole," Jughead shrugged. Archie looked panicked, but Jughead turned back to the board. "But even though we found it here, none of us think she's actually in Riverdale. Not with the manhunt for Edgar. So I've been hoping that the rest of the letters spell out a location. But in all honesty, she might not even know where she is."

Veronica nodded earnestly, biting her lip. She looked down at Archie, who still looked a bit shaken up. "Well, Jughead, you have us now. We just have to keep trying. Betty's smart, she would've made sure we could figure it out and find our true north."

True North. Jughead jerked his head toward one of the pictures from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy - the graffiti compass on the wall. One of the needles pointed north. An early conversation with Charles popped into his head. He had said the FBI sent out reconnaissance teams to different areas because they thought The Farm may have headed north…

"Veronica, that's it!" Jughead darted up, almost stumbling directly into the crime board. Veronica and Archie jumped up behind him. "Look! These are the letters that were left from her message." His heart was pounding against his chest now. "raoiton,"" he began scribbling on the board, "I haven't been able to make sense of it. It's just been shots in the dark trying to spell out a word or phrase from this, but direction! A direction is what we needed. Charles mentioned in an earlier debriefing that the FBI has cause to believe that The Farm may have headed north. And if Edgar needs to stay close to The Farm, he would have taken Betty north too."

"And there's one place up north I can think of that uses these letters." Jughead threw his marker down on the table and stared at the assembled word in front of him. Veronica gasped.

"No way," Archie breathed, his fists beginning to tremble.

"Ontario," Jughead repeated the word he had just written. "She's in Canada." His body began to shake but Archie laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, we have to tell your dad." Archie scrambled over to the ladder and fervently began climbing, Veronica hot on his heels. Jughead peeled his eyes away from the board, anger and fear burning its way through him as he followed Veronica up the ladder.

"I have my truck here. Jug, we can come back for your motorcycle. Your dad said he was on his way to the station when I saw him, he's probably there now." Archie was talking fast and breathlessly, stumbling over some of his words.

"Okay, but you have to let me drive," Veronica chided, grabbing the keys from Archie. "You sound like someone who's had one too many energy drinks. And I've seen you on one too many energy drinks. I'm driving."

"That's fine," Jughead stated, jogging after his friends on the narrow path away from the bunker. His mind was racing. Betty had been able to tell them where she is. She knew how far away she was. She was probably terrified. Why had Edgar brought her back to Riverdale? He hopped over a small log. Night had fallen over Fox Forest and he was very thankful that Archie had brought his flashlight, otherwise, his thoughts wouldn't be the only thing he would be tripping over right now. "We just need to get there and quick. I don't want to leave Betty out there one more night with that maniac."

A large branch cracked nearby and Veronica turned her head. "What was that?"

"We're in the middle of the forest," Jughead breathed, "Probably just some animal."

"Just some animal? Now, now, let's not resort to such barbaric name-calling so soon," a grating voice rang out from the darkness.

All three friends stopped and turned their heads this time. A dark figure was walking through the trees directly towards them.

"Well, well, if it isn't the three blind mice," Penelope taunted, sauntering out of the dark. "Still running around in the dark I see."

Author's Notes: Duh duh duhhhhhh.

I may be biased, and I feel like every new chapter I write becomes my new favorite, but this one might actually be my favorite. But there were also so many moments that hurt my heart to write.

But now I also feel the need to write a Ghostbusters themed one shot. Maybe for Halloween.

I'll try really hard not to leave you guys dangling on this cliffhanger for too long. The next chapter is already partially written, but it's going to be a doozy.

I hope you guys are enjoying! As always, review if you feel so inclined! I love reading any that come through and am so encouraged by all your wonderful notes!