Forty Days in the Wilderness

by Skyrider45

Senior year was supposed to be fun, hopeful even, not the start of another nightmare. When one of the Core Four goes missing, will the others be able to save them in time, all while battling their own inner demons, family issues, and the fallout from recent events? The road to healing is a long one. Canon-complicit until 3x22. AU Season 4. (Rated T for violence, kidnapping, etc.)

19. Chapter 18: There's No Place Like Home

Hey look, not a year in between updates!

I really was trying to get this out before the new year but didn't get finished in time. I hope everyone's New Year is off to a good and hopeful start! Here's hoping this is the year we finally end this nightmare of a pandemic and it just mutates itself out.

Anyway, here we go! Continuing on! And after forgetting for a second where some of the arcs were going after not updating in so long, I am back on track!

Boris Yeltsin, thanks for reading! Yes, everyone is adjusting, and there is going to be a lot of adjusting as everyone is still working through things, and trying to figure out how to support each other.

AvidMovieFan16, thank you for the welcome back! It's been a long time coming. Had to take some time off. I'm still not out of the woods yet in terms of feeling 100% again, but I'm gradually on my way. And hopefully will be more consistent in posting again! Thank you for continuously reading!

ButtonMashr, my word counts definitely keep getting abandoned, I have no self-discipline anymore; they end when they want, apparently. Very glad that I can make Cheryl and Toni full characters for you! Kevin too! (I still watch, but I abandoned all hopes for fully developed and sensical storylines seasons ago, hence why this fanfic started in the first place. (Well, I still hope but always disappointed.) FP and Alice are very fun to write, especially together. As you'll continuously see I have a big soft spot for FP and want to give him the arc he deserves (Damn you, writers room). Kane originally didn't have a backstory or as big a part to play in all of this, but he grew on me and I saw his backstory on fold, so I had to let the story go where it needed to! Re: Fred, I will always be sad too, but have my own ways of keeping him alive :) Thank you for continuing to be a faithful reader and reviewer!

Enjoy!

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Chapter 18: There's No Place Like Home

They say home is where the heart is.

A place of safety and warmth, a place to be known. For many of us, home has been a complicated word, one that at times meant a closet or trailer, an empty house, suite, and even on occasion a bunker.

But more often than not, home meant people. The ones you felt safe and warm around, the ones that helped you feel known.

Something built, whether by brick or by blood, home was something special. And perhaps the only thing more special than having a place to call home was coming home.

Something our lost traveler was finally able to do.

The black car rolled to a gentle stop next to the curb, the stillness of the afternoon air that blanketed the neighborhood returning as the hum of the engine stalled.

Betty leaned forward, her grip tightening around her backpack as she stared up at the white house before her.

Her house.

Charles pulled the keys out of the ignition, tapping them on his leg for a moment before glancing at Betty. He took a deep breath. "You ready?"

She turned her head in his direction. This moment had played time and time again in her mind over the past few weeks, of the moment she would see home again, the comfort of the familiar scent of lavender and cinnamon wafting around her, a pantry and fridge full of food, sleeping in the soft down of her own bed.

"Yeah, of course." She pushed the door open and lifted herself into the brisk, November air, her breath a white, swirling wisp in front of her.

Then why did she feel so anxious right now?

Charles swung open one of the back doors to the car, grabbing the duffle bag before walking around to the passenger side and coming to a stop beside Betty, joining her in staring up at the house before them.

It felt looming, almost imposing in the dying winter sunlight - as though it had grown taller while she was gone. Something about it made her pulse rush, her footfalls heavy as she walked up the stone steps to the front porch.

"Does it feel strange?" Charles' question came from behind her as he caught up to where she was standing in front of the red door.

"A bit," Betty answered without turning. "Dr. Glass and Agent Lance said that would be normal, trying to readjust and all. But yeah, still strange."

Betty looked back and could see him nodding, his arched brows shaping his concerned eyes, the same look that hadn't left his face since yesterday's sessions.

The ride back had been fairly silent; Betty had buried herself in a new book they had picked up on the way back, while Charles had periodically sent nervous glances in her direction.

"Hey," Charles said, finally turning in her direction, a hand going to her shoulder. "Anything you shared in debrief, it can just stay there if you want it to. For now, at least."

Betty clutched her backpack a little tighter. "I know."

Charles lifted his hand from her shoulder, instead reaching for the door handle. "Today, I just want you to focus on the fact that you're home."

"Yeah, me too," she sighed, moving forward as Charles stepped aside for her. "I'm looking forward to some time to myself."

She took a deep breath and walked through the door.

A wave of warmth wrapped itself around Betty, her heart doing a small summersault as the tell-tale mix of lavender and cinnamon hit her. Her shoulders momentarily relaxed as she stepped across the slightly scratchy welcome mat and into the front foyer.

She wasn't sure if this moment should feel so big, but it did.

Betty took another deep breath in and this time another scent joined in with the familiar harmony; the warm, billowy smell of freshly baked goods, and from the strength of it, not just one treat, but a whole batch of them.

She let out a contented huff through her nose. Of course, her mother would already be baking.

She stepped into the living room, dropping her backpack onto one of the chairs.

"Welcome home!"

Betty jumped, the sudden and lively cacophony of cheers catching her off-guard. She turned her head, finding all of her friends and family standing around the dining room, wide smiles aimed at her. The table was adorned with platters of cookies and cake, chips and dip, as was the island in the kitchen. A secondary table was even set up against the basement door sporting various cases of soda. Clumps of balloons stuck to the ceiling, framing a colorful banner that hung over the gathering.

So much for that time to herself.

Alice rushed over and wrapped her daughter in a tight hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. I am so happy to have you back."

"Mom," Betty breathlessly muttered underneath her mother's vice grip, her voice lowering to a whisper. "What is all this?"

"Just a little surprise for you. I thought it'd be nice if everyone could be here to welcome you home."

Betty stole a glance over her mother's shoulder and locked eyes with Jughead and FP, who both mouthed 'sorry' to her. She turned back to Alice, who picked up and handed her a small bag that had been sitting at the edge of the drink table. Betty peeked inside. At the bottom was a new phone with a baby blue case.

"It's already loaded with all your contacts and apps." Alice smiled, grabbing Betty's shoulders. "FP was able to get the SIM card out of your old one, but the phone itself couldn't be salvaged."

An image suddenly flashed behind Betty's eyes, of a hand grabbing her wrist, her phone clattering to the concrete below. Betty blinked, her mother filling her sight for a moment before being replaced by a dark sky, two stars like glowing eyes staring down at her as another hand closed over her mouth.

Betty flung her hand to her neck, her fingers rubbing at a spot above her sling.

"Isn't that great, honey?" Alice's voice came rushing back, as though someone had suddenly turned up the volume.

Betty blinked again, the moonless night dissolving back into the living room. She discreetly slid the hand at her neck over to her mother's, as though that was always her intention. "Yeah," she stammered, not entirely knowing what she was saying yes to. "Thank you."

FP and Jughead appeared behind Alice, the former sending her a hearty smile. "Good to see you, Betty," FP said quietly, crossing behind Jughead to stand next to Alice. He gestured his arm over the room. "Hope this is okay."

"Yeah, we couldn't talk her out of it," Jughead whispered repentantly as Betty moved away from her mother and into his side hug. "We'll try for no more surprises though, okay?"

Betty nodded, closing her eyes as he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. She smiled as she opened them back up, leaning her head into the crook of his shoulder as he gently rubbed her good arm, momentarily forgetting about what just happened.

"No more surprises would be a good thing," Charles chided, slipping into the group and dropping the duffle bag at the bottom of the stairs. "A little heads-up would have been nice." He passed a critical eye over the crowd before leaving it on Alice, but before the two of them could continue any sort of conversation, he was interrupted.

"Betty!" Jellybean barreled over, crashing into her hips with a hug. A shock of pain shot around Betty's waist as Jellybean inadvertently hit her wound.

She could only imagine what her face must have contorted into at that moment as Jughead, FP, and Charles' eyes all grew wide, and they reached quick but hesitant hands out toward her.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Jellybean released Betty from the embrace, looking up with a toothy smile. "I missed you so much."

Betty did her best to morph her face back into some semblance of a smile, trying to ignore the burning sensation that was rapidly spreading across her torso. "I missed you too, JB. Thanks for keeping your brother in line for me." She sent a glance up to Jughead, who sent her a sarcastic eye roll.

"Yeah, Charles was a real handful." JB nodded her head, laughing at her joke.

Betty opened her mouth to answer back, but paused, her brow scrunching. The group had grown silent, awkward looks being passed between each other. FP had a particularly discomfited gawk on his face while Charles gave a slight head tilt, looking as though he had never considered what was just said before.

"O-kay!" A ruffled whistle came out of Jughead's lips as he grabbed Betty's hand, attempting to diffuse what must have been the strangest family reunion ever, and dragged her away from the adults. "We really give new meaning to 'keeping up with the Jones'', don't we? Let's go somewhere else."

Jughead led Betty over to where the rest of their friends were spread out around the table, digging through the various snacks and desserts laid out. All heads turned toward Betty as she neared the table.

Veronica immediately put down her cup and squealed happily, wrapping Betty in a much gentler – but just as expressive - hug than JB had given her. "It's so good seeing you up and moving, girl! It must feel so good to be home."

They pulled apart and Betty smiled, her ponytail bouncing against her sling. "Yeah, it does." She looked around the dining room and kitchen, to Cheryl and Toni, who were lounging around the island talking to Kevin, the latter shooting Betty an energetic wave. "I just wasn't expecting everyone to be in it, though."

Her side gave another flare and she gritted her teeth beneath her smile.

Veronica, Jughead, and Archie all exchanged a glance. "I know." Veronica gave Betty a bit of an apologetic frown.

"But look at it this way," Archie talked from behind Veronica's shoulder. "Now you get to eat cake for breakfast while we have to go to school." He shot her one of his goofy smirks, shoveling a piece into his mouth.

Which made Betty genuinely laugh.

She slid a hand down to her side, pressing it against the dressing she still had to wear, hoping that the unexpected laughter didn't jostle the wound more than it already had been. She felt Jughead's hand slip on top of hers and she looked back, seeing a warm smile etched across his face.

Okay, despite a few hiccups, maybe this wasn't so bad.

"When do you think you'll be back at school?" Veronica asked, a mix of caution and anticipation in her voice as she picked through the vegetable platter in front of her.

"I'm not sure," Betty responded as Jughead grabbed her a plate. "Everyone is saying I should wait a few days to adjust before trying to add school back in."

"Add back in? That sounds like a food allergy," Archie remarked through a mouthful of cake. "I wouldn't mind being allergic to school. Skipping it doesn't sound so bad."

"No way, I can't wait to go back." Betty grabbed the plate from Jughead, which he had filled with seemingly one of everything on the table. "I've already missed so much of the semester. Homework would be something normal for once."

Archie's fork stopped midway to his mouth and Betty felt Jughead place a hand on her shoulder. The conversation stilted, just as it had multiple times throughout the week in the hospital, when Betty had casually mentioned something that wouldn't typically be categorized as casual. Which she didn't always understand considering they had all faced a walking tree the previous year.

But at the same time, this was new territory.

"Hey, Arch-," she placed her plate back down on the table without touching anything, her tone of voice sounding a bit forced as she tried to switch subjects. "Didn't you say there was a football game this Friday? Maybe I can convince my mom to let me go to that."

Archie's eyes light up and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, this could make or break our chances for playoffs."

"And we'll totally be there," Veronica said, patting him on the arm. "An evening of Friday Night Lights sounds like just the kind of high school fun we all need." She winked in Betty's direction before dislodging herself from Archie.

"Did someone say fun?" Cheryl materialized next to Veronica. "Not without me I hope. Pray tell, what are we planning, hm?"

"We're just talking about the football game," Veronica replied, looking slightly annoyed.

"Oh." Cheryl's face turned down. "How trite." She turned toward Betty, as though just now realizing she was there. "Hello, cousin. Glad to see you looking more human today."

"Hi to you, too, Cheryl," Betty answered dryly, picking up a drink.

Jughead cleared his throat, crossing his arms at Cheryl, a grimace on his face.

"Just ignore her," Toni interjected. "She's been working on expressing her feelings and that's just her way of trying to say welcome home." She smiled warmly at Betty, pausing a moment before leaning into a hug with her. "Hi, Betty, glad you're back."

"Thanks, Toni," Betty said, happy to see her but beginning to feel a touch of weariness at hearing the same phrase repeated so many times.

"So what's the FBI like?" Kevin stood eagerly behind Toni. "You know, the real thing?"

Betty shifted her weight, her side beginning to calm. "The field office was big, distinguished. Floor to ceiling windows and a skylight, the emblem everywhere. Subpar coffee, though."

"Cool! All we got was a dusty hallway and a makeshift office. Not as distinguished." He leaned forward. "Was it intimidating?"

"Uh," Betty dithered, narrowing her eyes. "We can swap war stories later, Kev, right now I just want to enjoy being here."

Kevin withdrew slightly but his eyes flickered, an understanding there.

"Yes, and that is all you should be doing," Toni spoke up, putting a hand on Kevin's arm, beginning to lead him and Cheryl away. "I recommend the cake. Your mom is a mean baker."

"Can concur." Archie shoveled another bite into his mouth.

Jughead looked over and she could tell he saw the fatigue in her eyes. He inched closer, laying his head on her shoulder. "Hey, you want to make your escape?" he whispered into her ear.

She turned toward him, answering back with a small but eager nod. Jughead stepped back and cocked his head, walking over to the foyer to grab her bags.

Betty looked back over the crowd, seeing her friends and family had all turned to talking amongst themselves. Some were now laughing and joking, others looking bored, while others still were staring at her warily, out of the corner of their eyes, probably thinking she wouldn't notice.

She sighed and turned back around, heading up the stairs and away from the curious eyes.

xxx

Alice watched from the corner of the living room as Betty and Jughead bolted up the stairs. She set her plate down on the coffee table and began to walk toward the staircase but found Charles' eye – and forceful head cock – on the way. He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, guiding her instead toward the foyer. She followed a bit begrudgingly, throwing a look over her shoulder back toward the now vacant staircase.

Charles guardedly swung his head around the room as the two tucked against the front door, and when he seemed sure that no one could overhear, his eyes darkened, a hushed rebuke on his tongue.

"Alice, a party?"

"I thought it would make her more at home, feel connected to everyone." Alice crossed her arms.

"And-," Charles lifted a hand, "that connection to others is a good thing, like at the hospital. But she needs to feel connected to her own home again first." He huffed, bouncing on his feet, his hands going in his pockets. "She hasn't exactly had one lately."

Alice's arms slackened, along with her face. "What was it like?" she asked, her voice low and eyes flickering. "Where she was?"

He remained silent, his crooked mouth stuck in a quiet act of deliberation. The blue of his eyes swelled and pulsed, their deepening alone almost enough of an answer.

"Charles, I'm her mother. And yours." Her voice twisted, desperation laced in her plea. "I can't help her if I don't know what happened."

Charles breathed out his nose, another nervous glance aimed around the room. "And you will, but she has to be the one to tell you. While it's my job to get her to open up, you have to figure out your own way. It may take some time."

Alice frowned, throwing another concerned look over her shoulder to the quiet staircase. She had to admit, she knew she wasn't the easiest person to talk to, which worked in her favor most of the time. Not with her daughter though, despite the progress they had made in their relationship over the years. Vulnerability wasn't her strong suit. Neither was patience.

But for Betty?

She'd have to try.

xxx

FP sat on the couch, Jellybean laughing about something next to him, her arm hooked around his. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head in time to see Betty heading up the stairs, Jughead trailing close behind with her bags. FP breathed out a silent chortle, bobbing his head.

Good on them. Betty didn't need to be down here trying to make small talk with everyone after just getting back, even if it was only her friends. The kid probably needed rest at the very least, not a welcoming committee, but it was hard getting Alice to see that.

He watched the two of them disappear around the landing and turned his head, his eyes instead spotting Archie heading to the drink table.

FP shifted his position on the couch, nudging Jellybean away from him. "Refill," he explained, shaking his empty plastic cup as JB shot him an annoyed look as he tugged himself up off the couch.

He walked over to the drink table, coming up alongside Archie, who gave him a quick glance before resuming pouring the liter of soda.

"Hey, Mr. Jones."

"Hey, Archie. Thanks for supporting Betty." FP grabbed one of the other bottles, unscrewing the cap.

"Of course." The teen's eyes shot in the direction of the staircase. "Just trying to help."

FP put the soda bottle back down on the table with a small thud. "Speaking of help, I wanted to ask you something." His voice was in a whisper and Archie raised an eyebrow, turning himself further in FP's direction. "Any chance there's extra work available with the construction company? I'm looking to, uh-," he tapped the side of his cup, "fill some time."

Archie knit his brow. "I'll have to ask Vic." He took a sip of his drink. "And don't worry, Jughead caught me up about your job. It's okay." Archie shook his head as he took another swig.

Then he paused, a sly look slowly crossing his face. "How about you meet me at the community center Wednesday night? I'll talk to the guys before then and get you some more info."

FP smiled and gave Archie a small pat on the shoulder. "Thanks, Archie. I owe ya' one."

Archie smiled back, "No, we owe you one, Mr. Jones." He took one last glance up at the stairs, then sauntered back into the crowd of teens that had overtaken the downstairs.

xxx

Veronica sat at the island in the kitchen, fiddling with her plastic cup as she watched everyone move around the house, clumping into their own little groups. Betty had excused herself from her own party, and she couldn't blame her.

A penchant for fanfare is something Veronica and Betty did not share.

"I messed up, didn't I?"

Veronica turned her head at the crestfallen question, Kevin sliding onto the stool next to her. His face was downturned, a dejected look in his eyes.

"No," Veronica sighed after a moment, "you didn't mess anything up, you just need to have a bit more awareness, that's all."

Kevin sighed, taking a long drink, nodding. "Considering I watched Into the Woods as a coping method, I'd agree with that."

Veronica crinkled her brow. "What?"

"Never mind," Kevin said quickly, clumsily reaching for a bowl of chips as though he hadn't expected Veronica to hear that comment despite saying it out loud.

Veronica shook her head, returning to her drink. She could see FP talking to Archie across the room, and just beyond them Charles and Alice were walking out of the foyer. Alice hesitantly stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the banister, before turning away, instead going to fuss with the food placements at the dining room table.

"I just feel like I never know what the right thing to say is," Kevin continued in between scoops of guacamole.

Veronica crossed her arms, gently clinking her cup on the counter with a doleful sigh. "I don't think any of us ever really know what to say. Have we ever with any of the things we've been through? I mean, the last time one of us had a homecoming, I sang to him and he ran away."

She tilted her head, recalling the memory of Archie's uncomfortable exit from the speakeasy after he had returned from his semi-self-inflicted exile. She could laugh at it in hindsight, now that she and Archie had worked things out, but for a while… well, it wasn't making any top ten lists that had 'best' or 'decision' in them.

Kevin considered that statement, a resigned chuckle escaping his lips. "Huh, you're right. At least I didn't try to sing to Betty." The two exchanged amused smiles, then Kevin's face lightened, as though a realization had just dawned on him. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and the two settled back into their people-watching.

Charles had pushed himself into a chair in the corner of the living room, typing away on his phone, while Jughead's sister had roped Toni into what was no doubt a scintillating conversation about her Serpents jacket, the younger Jones pointing animatedly at the crest.

Veronica had never particularly taken notice before, but now, seeing everyone gathered together, she realized what an unlikely assembly of friends and family this was. The many crusades – for good or bad – Betty had found herself enmeshed in for the town had brought together and unified a rather motley crew.

And there was something to be said about that, Veronica noted, realizing that despite this party being held in slightly bad taste, just how many people were ready and willing to show up for support regardless.

"I just want to be a good friend, again, you know?" Kevin's admission broke Veronica out of her observations. "After everything."

Veronica looked down at the table. "Yeah, I understand that." She breathed in and lifted her cup, holding it up to Kevin. "Here's to hoping we find the right things to say."

Kevin smiled, lifting his cup to hers, clinking them together. "And the right things to do."

---

Betty walked the last few paces to the end of the hall, stopping in front of the door to her room. She reached a hand out to turn the knob, her fingers stopping just before reaching the polished metal.

There they were again, the nerves.

A feeling she felt shouldn't be reserved for walking into your own house or bedroom, but was there now, nonetheless.

She could feel Jughead's presence behind her, his taller frame positioned close to hers. He had been sticking awfully close since the first night in the hospital, something she had been finding somewhat denigrating, but at present, didn't mind.

Her finger twitched and she quickly grabbed the knob, taking in a deep breath and exhaling as she opened the door.

A small chill hit her as soon as she walked inside, a stagnant air that felt out of place. She looked around a room that, despite Jughead's continued presence living in, appeared frozen in time.

She brushed her hand gently over the edge of her vanity, its hazy lights left on for her arrival no doubt. Her eyes moved naturally up the walls, to the pictures and posters plastered all around it, before turning her head toward the rest of the room. Her bed was neat, the pillows looking freshly fluffed while the comforter sat smooth and pressed atop the mattress.

Betty stepped forward, continuing to soak in the sight of a room that she knew belonged to her, but at present didn't feel familiar.

That thought sent a small pit into her stomach and she turned toward the open bathroom, her heart skipping a beat instead as she locked eyes with herself in the mirror above the sink.

Her face was pale and sweaty, her hair a disheveled mess around her shoulders. Bloodshot and distraught eyes stared back at her and she flinched, taking a small step backward.

"So?"

Betty snapped her head. Jughead was facing away from her, shuffling the duffle bag off of his shoulder. He turned around, an expectant eyebrow raise and smile on his face.

She wrinkled her brow, swinging her head back toward the mirror, this time her hair in the neat ponytail she knew she had put it in this morning, her eyes normal. Betty swallowed and took a deep breath, answering on the exhale. "The walls are pinker than I remember."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Jughead laid her backpack on the bed and stepped closer to her.

She took another deep breath in, trying to push the unease down with it. She plastered a smile on her face when she saw his smirk, realizing he hadn't noticed anything. "I haven't decided yet." She leaned forward, kissing him on the lips.

Jughead smiled through the kiss, eventually pulling away. "Welcome home," he said quietly.

He spun around, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Betty threw one last glance into the bathroom before joining him.

She pulled her legs underneath her, sinking into the cushy mattress. "Did you clean the room for me?"

"Oh," Jughead quipped, "you know I didn't." They looked around at the spotless floor, the stacks of clean laundry and perfectly aligned folders and books on her desk. "That was all your mom."

"I should have known she would try to make everything perfect. Even after everything." Betty's eyes were at the floor.

"Does it feel too… stiff?" Jughead's face had dropped and he grabbed her hand, pulling her attention back to him. She nodded and he sucked his lip, a troubled flicker in his eyes.

"She meant well but…" Betty pursed her lips, looking for the right way to describe what she had been feeling. "It doesn't look the way I left it."

Jughead's eyes flickered even more and there was a sense of guilt about his face, but as fast as that glint came, it went, replaced by a more mischievous grin.

"You know, if you want it to look more lived in, I know a way to mess up the sheets." He leaned back into the pillows, throwing his legs up on the bed, his tongue poking out between his teeth.

A warm ripple spread down Betty's back and she rolled her tongue into her cheek, but she stared down at the comforter, next to where Jughead was. "I can't."

He scrunched his brow. "You can't?"

She rocked the arm in the sling forward. "Not until this is healed." She placed a hand on her side. "And this."

Jughead's grin quickly wiped off his face and he sat back upright.

"I'm technically not even supposed to be sharing a bed."

He sucked in a breath and turned down to the floor. "Well, in that case-," he put the toe of one of his boots to the heel of the other, pulling it off of his foot and throwing it to the floor. He did the same with the other. "See? Shoes on the floor. Lived in."

Betty stared at the discarded boots and gave a silent, appreciative chuckle. "It's a start." She turned back toward him.

"And I'll set up a sleeping bag. Right next to the bed. But don't think for a second that I'm letting you sleep in an empty room tonight."

An unexpected flood of emotion welled up in Betty's chest. She laid her head on his shoulder, curling into his neck. One place that actually felt lived in.

She knew at that moment that he was deliberately avoiding any kind of debrief talk or any uncomfortable talk at all, and for a moment, she felt like an average, everyday teenager.

The lost traveler, who, thankfully, no longer had the need for that title, was home.

As the evening grew older and the guests began to clear, a welcomed quiet set in, like the house itself was feeling at peace now that all its residents were safe and sound back within its protective walls.

Night replaced day over the house of many stories, a house that may well be as haunted as the ones who lived within, but one could only hope the ghosts would stay away for at least one night.

---

Lamplight threw a yellow haze around the walls of the bedroom as Archie crossed the floor to his bed, fluffing out the pillows as he checked his charging phone for any last texts before calling it a night.

After mindlessly skimming through something about the upcoming game from Reggie and answering the usual goodnight text from Ronnie, Archie returned the phone to his desk, his hand grazing over the framed picture of Fred that sat next to it. The motion had become something of a nightly ritual.

He drew in a large inhale, moving his eyes forward as he did, finding himself looking out to the window across from his own.

Warm light spilled out of the bedroom next door into the dark night. He could see Betty sitting on her bed, watching Jughead as he attempted to spread out what looked like a sleeping bag. He unraveled it in a rather dramatic fashion, dropping it and himself to the floor in a hammy flop, prompting a laugh from Betty.

That couldn't help but make Archie smile.

As Jughead popped back up from behind the bed, Betty leaned down and said something to him. It must have been on the more serious side as Jughead's grin straightened out and he nodded. Betty wriggled off the bed and walked over to the window above her bench seat, lifting open one of the panes. As she went back toward the bed, she glanced up, catching Archie in her sight. She smiled, giving him a wave.

Archie waved back, the smile that was already on his face growing wider.

"It's good to see that again."

He turned around. His mother was standing in his open doorway, a basket of laundry at her side as she grinned at her son.

Archie plopped down on the edge of his bed. "Yeah, I'm glad she finally gets to sleep in her own room again."

Mary walked deeper into the room, placing the basket down in front of Archie's desk, peering out the window herself.

"It's a little cold to sleep with a window open, though. Poor thing is going to catch a cold after everything."

Archie shook his head as he leaned back, his hands wrapping around the edge of his bed a little tighter. "There were bars over all the windows where she was, Mom. She probably just wants to feel a bit of freedom, knowing she can."

When Mary didn't say anything right away, Archie turned his head away from the window, finding her staring down at him with a soft, sad look on her face. She lowered herself onto the desk chair.

"Is that why you've kept your window open at night for the past year?"

The question was quiet, delicate.

Archie felt his face grow hot and he twisted his hands together, his eyes glancing at the gently billowing curtains next to him before going to the floor.

"You never used to do that before you went to prison."

He continued to wring his hands and when he finally looked back up at his mom, he simply asked, "Are you going to be her lawyer?"

Mary's face sank, noticeably disappointed at the deflection, but she rubbed her hands on her lap and nodded. "Yes. But I can't see how the defense could possibly build a succinct case, there's too much direct evidence, not to mention witness accounts."

Archie simply nodded back.

Mary remained staring at him for another moment before sighing and standing to her feet.

"Have a good night, Archie."

"You too, Mom."

She walked to the door but hesitated, turning back around. Her eyes went to the window, then back to her son.

"You know, maybe you can try to talk with Betty about what you both went through. Maybe she's someone that will understand."

With that, she turned around, quietly closing the door. Archie sat staring at where she just disappeared before turning his head back toward the open window.

He rose from the bed, placing his hands on the top of the pane, but something stopped him from pushing down. He glanced out the window, at the bedroom across from him, but it had grown dark.

Archie swallowed, curling his hands into fists, gradually removing them from the window. He backed away, flipping the lamp off, breathing in the still, cool air that gently blew into his room until the afterglow lingering behind his eyes was swallowed up by the night.

---

A scraping sound nudged Jughead awake, and he groggily rolled over, blinking into the black of the room. He laid on his back, staring up at the silver beam of moonlight that was flooding through the open window. A chill ran through the room as the wind knocked around the tree branches outside, one of which was scratching against the glass.

He yawned and pulled the sleeping bag away from his legs. "Betts, is it okay if I close the window now?"

She didn't answer.

He rubbed his eyes, pulling himself to his feet, sleepily casting one eye toward the bed. "Good, you finally fell asleep," he murmured to himself, a small flood of relief running through him despite his stupor. He pulled the window down, clicking the latch into its place.

Jughead stared through the glass for a moment, at the bare trees waving in the nightly gust and the streetlamp that finally had its bulb replaced, its glow gazing back at him once more. He let out another yawn before shifting his eyes back toward the bed, to the pile of pillows and blankets.

His head was starting to clear, as was his vision, and he realized with a start that there was no one under those blankets.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked back at the window in a panic, his imagination getting the better of him as he stared down at the dark street below. He took a step back and whipped his head around the room before noticing that the bedroom door was ajar, a faint orange glow beyond it.

Jughead sucked in a deep breath, his heartbeat slowing to a slightly lower rate as he slipped out of the room and toward the staircase.

He gently tiptoed down the first flight of steps, stopping and bending down as he reached the landing. He peered around the side of the wall and down into the living room.

Betty was sitting on the floor with her back to him, still as a statue in front of the lit fireplace, her head forward as she stared blankly into the flickering flames, a blanket wrapped around herself. Shadows loomed tall around the room, their spectral figures dancing feverishly against the firelight. A few of the balloons from earlier lay withered and dying on the carpet, spirits drifting aimlessly around her in the darkened room, the only trace of the life that had been in that room only hours before.

He pushed himself closer to the wall of the landing as Alice suddenly appeared from the kitchen, hastily carrying over a glass of water. He watched as she knelt beside Betty, her mouth moving inaudibly as she handed her the glass.

As soon as Alice reached her, Betty cracked, weeping into her mother's arms, her shoulders heaving up and down with thick and heavy sobs, the somber sound cutting into the otherwise quiet house.

Jughead rose slowly and was about to continue down the stairs when a hand landed firmly on his shoulder. He whipped around, startled by the outline of his father behind him in the dark. FP had a serious look about him as he put a finger to his lips and slowly shook his head from side to side.

Jughead knit his brow, glancing back down to the living room before looking back at his dad, who was now pointing decisively back up the stairs.

Jughead could feel the tug-of-war happening in his chest, but he swallowed, slowly turning around to join his father further up the staircase. For a moment, the two men remained unmoving, standing silently in their pajamas, hands gripped around the banister. Jughead noticed his father send a look of his own down into the living room, a soft twinkle just visible in his eyes against the blue moonlight streaming in through the window, and in that instant, Jughead realized they both had come to the same conclusion.

Some moments just weren't meant for them to see.

---

"You think this is going to help?"

Kevin had his hands wrapped around the strap of his cross-shoulder bag as he walked down the crowded school hallway school, his question turned down at the raven-haired girl walking beside him.

"Yes I do," Veronica beamed, curving into the front office as the hollow trill of the bell reverberated overhead. "First lesson in observation, Kevin; listening." She rang the little golden bell on the office desk. "Betty said she would feel relieved having some homework to do. Now, knowing she does, in fact, have assignments to make up, and knowing her personality, gathering and organizing said assignments would help our girl feel a bit more normal."

She ended that explanation with an animated smile, turning on her high heels as Mrs. Phillips ambled out from the principal's office. "How may I help you two?"

"Yes, I'd like to pick up some things for…"

Kevin watched as Veronica began to inquire about the missing schoolwork, her voice falling to the back of his talkative mind.

Well, this was embarrassing. A lesson on listening as a senior in high school.

He knew how to listen; he was a pro at hearing things he shouldn't in the school lounge and the cafeteria, at the lockers, and at Pop's. He was even a theatre director for goodness sake, that was all about listening.

A pile of papers and books slammed on the counter as Mrs. Phillips finished gathering the accumulated work Betty had missed, each teacher thankfully already making the arrangements upon the news of her rescue. Veronica grabbed half of the stack, sending an expectant stare up at Kevin as she began walking out of the office.

He swiftly grabbed the rest of the pile, shuffling behind Veronica and back out into the hallway, which had grown even more crowded as students scrambled to get to their first-period classes.

"You, me, everyone else-," Veronica continued the conversation from before without skipping a beat. "If we want to be good friends at this crucial time we have to pay attention."

Kevin glanced down at the stack of papers in his arms, a weary and worn frown suddenly on his face. "I've known Betty since kindergarten," he said timorously, veering out of the way of a group of speed walking freshmen. "I remember playing tag and trading snacks."

He wasn't entirely sure why his first thought went to those younger years, but if someone telling him to pay attention brought him there, then he better do just that.

His frown raised into a slight smile, his eyes hazing with earnest remembrance. "Our families would go see the fireworks for 4th of July together, she helped teach me how to ride a bike and then helped teach me first-aid when I crashed that bike."

He slowed, the books and papers growing heavier in his arms. "She was the first person I came out to, even before my dad. We used to be a safe space for each other and I betrayed that. I don't even… how can I feel like so much of a stranger to someone I've known for years?"

"Kev-," Veronica stopped abruptly and turned toward Kevin, a stern look in her eyes. "You just got out of a cult, one where the leader actively encouraged you to cut ties with friends and family and made you completely question yourself without his guidance. You need to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, stop beating yourself up!"

Kevin ducked his head. Another bell rang overhead, leaving Veronica and Kevin as the only two in the now deserted hallway.

"And if that's what he did to the people that chose to follow him-," Veronica began, her voice low and sallow.

"-then I can only imagine what someone he purposely kidnapped went through," Kevin finished, a somber ring in his voice as well.

A silence hung between the two of them, even deeper than the quiet that already sat in the hall.

"Which is why it's so important that we have to try to listen and pay attention to the things that are said." Veronica readjusted the stack in her arms and began to walk forward again.

"And the things that aren't." Kevin glanced down at Veronica, who stared back up at him as they continued down the silent hallway, the irony not lost on them that they had their hands full in more ways than one.

---

"Take it down, take it all down. I don't want a trace of any of this up for her to see."

Jughead tore at the colored notes and pictures that had encased Betty's locker for the past month, throwing them hastily into a trash bag. "I know she won't be at school for a few more days but I want to do what I can now."

Archie reached forward, gently grabbing a few of the cards off of the locker, looking down and turning them over in his hand. "Are you sure you want to get rid of everything?" he asked, reading one of the notes. "Some of these are actually really nice."

Jughead stopped, sending a side-eye toward Archie. "I really don't think she wants to be reading some half-assed sympathy card from Chuck Clayton." Jughead raised one of the cards between his fingers before flicking it into the trash. Archie furrowed his brow and went back to pulling notes off of the locker.

"I don't know, I think she would appreciate some of these."

A grunt escaped Jughead's drawn lips. "Because everyone cared so much," he grumbled.

Archie stopped, turning toward Jughead, his forehead still crinkled in a skeptical line, his eyes narrowing. "Are you doing this for Betty, or are you doing this for you?"

Jughead looked over at Archie, standing still and blinking for a moment.

"Did something happen last night?" Archie's brow now upturned into a worried curve.

Jughead sighed and rubbed his temple. "Do you remember what we were joking about in the bunker the night we found Betty?" Archie nodded.

"There's a lot of ghosts around her, man. Around all of us. In this town." He outstretched his arms, the trash bag shaking as he did. "If I can clean up any part of this mess, get rid of anything those ghosts may attach themselves to-," he yanked a card away from the locker, turning it over in his hand before dropping it into the black bag. "Even if small, then I will."

Archie stood, his head down, shuffling the pile of notes he held in his hands. He slowly nodded his head, glancing back up at the locker. "Yeah." He turned back to Jughead. "Okay."

He turned back to pulling the colorful papers off of Betty's locker and Jughead watched for a moment before staring down at the folded-up card in his own hand, the red ink bleeding through the white paper.

He sniffed, a soft lament coming from his lips. He chucked the card into the trash, shaking the bag with a resolute snap.

---

Soft light filtered in through the windows of the office, the suns' thin rays feathering through the cream-colored curtains. Nature photographs and paintings lined the walls, plants of various sizes and colors decorated the shelves of the white room, spaced between knick-knacks of globes and maps, candles, and even a mini telescope that sat in one of the window sills.

Dr. Glass had rearranged his office. Betty had noticed as soon as she had walked in. His desk was now pushed up against the wall, the space it had taken up before now occupied by two cushy, black chairs. Betty was sinking into a new couch across from them, the update creating a more open and soothing layout. There was even a white noise machine tucked into the corner, a rather ethereal tune swirling around them in the form of timeworn, indigenous flutes.

"Let's start small, just like with everything else. We'll break it down." Dr. Glass sat in one of the chairs across from Betty, leaning forward with one hand raised.

"I don't even know where to start."

"I know." Dr. Glass relaxed, a pull at the edge of his mouth. He sank back into his chair. "That's why you're freezing up."

"You sure it's not from the trauma?"

"Just take a breath," Dr. Glass said with a supportive smile.

She did.

"Good. Now, how about we just start with a goal for the day?" The therapist tapped his pen against his notepad before softly angling his head.

Betty straightened her back, rotating her neck as she took another breath in. Trying to regurgitate what had been talked through in debrief wasn't working in this setting. She wasn't entirely sure why she thought it would.

Facts felt easier than feelings at the moment, even when the facts were causing the feelings.

"I guess-," she began, her eyes looking past Dr. Glass at a shelf full of trinkets. "And I know it's only been a day, but being home feels off."

Dr. Glass squinted, resting his hand on the side of the chair. "Off how?"

Betty fussed with a loose thread hanging off of her sling. "Like my bedroom feeling like a memorial. As though I was stepping into a life that doesn't belong to me anymore." Her eyes moved to Dr. Glass' face.

"Extended time away… extended isolation…" Dr. Glass laced his hands together, a mark of concentration on his composed face. "Combined with someone forcing control over your every move can create a dissonance between the before and after. Something common with cult ideology-,"

Dr. Glass stopped as Betty's face flinched.

"That word bothers you."

"Of course it does." Betty attempted to cross her arms, the normally comforting action made so cumbersome by the sling that she gave up, dropping her arm back into her lap. "One destroyed my life. My family."

"Your home?" The therapist leaned his head against his fist, an eyebrow above the rim of his glasses.

Betty swallowed, her eyes downturned as she remained stubbornly silent.

"Betty." Dr. Glass sighed, moving forward in his chair. "We've talked about Edgar and the cult before, while your mom was gone and you never had a reaction to that word like that." His frown was palpable. "Obviously events have transpired since then, but is there something more that is bugging you about that word? Or-," he quickly added with a small hand flourish, "the imagery surrounding that word?"

She sat, staring quietly at Dr. Glass before she began to slowly shake her head. "I woke up on the couch this morning, a dead fire in the fireplace. Just like in the cabin." She shifted, sinking into the couch even more as she ran a hand over her hair. "I couldn't get warm there, I couldn't stand the bedroom."

"He took your comforts away," Dr. Glass responded, a hardened look crossing his face, one that only came from years of hearing the same kind of stories. "Made sure you had no sense of place or independence. Those discomforts can then become comforts once the environment changes."

Betty could feel her face growing hot. "I know all the manipulation tactics, I watched them happen to everyone around me, I know he was doing the same to me."

"But?" Dr. Glass asked softly.

Betty looked down at her lap, her nails rubbing against her jeans, and when she turned her head back up, her face had fully grown red. "He had toothpaste and a toothbrush ready there for me. There was water and electricity. Shampoo, soap-," she shook her head, "I could take a shower. There was wood for the fireplace. He…" She could feel her voice begin to tremble. "He set that up for me. He had to prepare that." She had tried to voice those words in disgust, but what came out sounded more like fear.

Dr. Glass sat silently across from her, that pitying sad look on his face.

"But I didn't have food, I couldn't change my clothes. I barely even got to look out a stupid window." Betty found herself dragging through the admission, her voice low and cracking. She took in a deep breath, trying to steady herself from the unexpected reaction.

"Betty," Dr. Glass said quietly, leaning forward again. "He didn't give you those things for your well-being."

The flute track stuttered and looped in the background. Betty drew in another deep breath, wiping at her nose as she shook her head again. "Edgar kept calling the cabin my home. The thugs out at the ranger post said they were taking me home." Betty threw her hand out, waving it frustratingly out in front of her. "He turned me into a cult of one, right down to accepting his stupid version of a home."

Betty was acutely aware of her labored breathes as Dr. Glass steepled his fingers, pressing them close to his face.

"I know you mentioned before you still felt trapped." He shifted in his chair, straightening himself up. "From my experience, that's most likely what Edgar wanted. Distort your perception of shelter and security even after you were free."

She let out an agitated huff. "And what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Take it back." A determined expression crossed Dr. Glass' face. "But it's not something we can fix in a day. It'll take time and patience."

Betty's face must not have been convinced, as Dr. Glass narrowed his inquiring eyes at her. "What is it, Betty?"

"What if there's nothing to take back?" Her voice came out anxious and tired, worn out from a conversation held a hundred times in her head. "You've heard all the things I've talked about."

Dr. Glass frowned and he leaned forward again. "There is. I promise. The things Edgar did were meant to hurt and confuse you and I know they're going to be hard to grapple with, but Betty, believe me when I say this; you deserve to heal from this. From everything."

Betty stared at him, breathing slowly before eventually, if not still fairly reluctantly, nodding.

"Again, this isn't going to be quick." A gentle but sad smile spread across Dr. Glass' face as he rested back into the chair. "But luckily, we have time to work on things."

"I know." Betty gave another small nod. "Twice a week." She turned to look at the sleek telescope that lived underneath the office window. "And more if I need it."

---

Alice sat in the Andrews' dining room, an untouched cup of tea beside her, hands clasped together on top of the table as tightly as her lips were pursed. Her hollow and tired eyes were locked on the papers and files spread across the table, of which Charles and Mary were pouring through.

The two of them had been going back and forth like a tennis match all day, lobbing nonstop legal questions at each other.

"I assume the FBI is handling all the charging documents, correct?" Mary turned the paper in her hand over, her eyes peering over the top of her reading glasses at Charles.

"Yes, I'm working on those personally." Charles nodded. "Those will be filed this week and then it's more or less a waiting game for a court date."

It wasn't exactly a spectator sport.

"Excellent." Mary held a pen between her fingers as she shuffled through a few more files. "Well, I think the case is water-tight. Everything we need is here." She passed her hand over the files. "The biggest thing I'm worried about is possible character assassination."

"What?" Alice suddenly snapped her head at Mary. "After everything, that snake is still going to try to go after my daughter?"

"Alice-," Charles reached across the table toward her. "Edgar pleaded not guilty in his arraignment. He's going to do what he's always done; try to manipulate the situation in his favor. He's not going down without a fight."

"And I'm not talking about just Betty," Mary enclosed, now turning toward Alice. "He'll try to defame others around her to paint himself in a better light."

Alice drew in a deep breath, leaning back into her chair, understanding the vexed look Mary had just given her. "He's going to spin the fact I was part of The Farm. Despite it being undercover."

"And we can prove that you were undercover," Charles responded, throwing an arm over the empty chair next to him as his head flipped toward Mary.

"But some of the actions you took prior to The Farm moving aren't in the best light," Mary cautiously continued his thought. "He'll use what fodder he has."

"So, what?" Alice raised her arms. "He's going to try to say we're the crazy ones and he's the savior?"

"We think that could be the angle he takes, even with the damning evidence," Mary said, crossing her arms on the table. "He may even try to make Betty out to be an unreliable narrator. The fight here won't be in facts, it's going to be in emotion."

"Fight?" Alice crossed her legs and jabbed a finger at the table. "No, this is a game to him. It all has."

Mary and Charles exchanged a glance.

"What?" Alice prodded, seeing something obvious pass between them. "What now?"

"Alice-," Charles folded his hands on the table as slowly as the cadence of his voice. "We think it's possible that Edgar might call Polly to the stand, to testify against her sister."

The room grew quiet. Alice stared between her son and Mary Andrews, her chest and shoulders tightening under their calm but expectant gazes. She shook her head. "No, no, she wouldn't." Her eyes suddenly burned with frenzied energy, her face turning down. "I don't know. She wouldn't, would she?"

Mary took a deep breath before answering. "She has no choice if she is called as a witness. Edgar would want to create reasonable doubt within the jury and a family member testifying against their own would do that."

"She wasn't even there." Alice quickly wrapped her hand around the cup of tea that had since grown cold but didn't lift it to her lips. She shook her head. "She wouldn't be a character witness, not after she learns everything."

Charles watched her grip tighten and quickly reached a hand forward. "Hey, we just want to cover all of our bases. So we're ready for whatever they throw at us."

"How much of Betty's story do you know, Alice?" Mary asked, raising her mug to her lips.

Alice shook her head and shrugged. "Not much actually. She hasn't really talked about it."

"Well, I suggest you try to find a way to talk to her about it. We have the FBI reports but we need to have emotion on our side, too. It's important we hear it directly from Betty."

Alice found Charles' eyes as Mary was talking. He returned the glance, looking somewhat apologetic but still resolute as well. She noticed his hands slightly shaking before he pulled them under the table.

"As a mother, I know how hard getting the truth out of our kids can be." Mary took her glasses off, placing them on the table. "And I know you didn't want her in the courtroom-,"

"No," Alice snapped, crossing her arms again, sending another eyeful at Charles, who stared remorsefully back. "I still don't. None of my kids."

Mary frowned. "I didn't want Archie in his either, but if we want to permanently put this creep away, it's important the jury hear directly from her. There are ways to do that without her being in the room," Mary said offhandedly. "It's also important you know what happened before we get too far into building this case."

Alice stared at Mary, breathing steadily before turning her eyes down to the files laid out around the table. Her daughter's files. Ones she couldn't bring herself to read, yet wasn't sure she wanted to hear out of her daughter's mouth as well.

She looked back up, catching Charles' eyes.

She wasn't going to be sitting on the sidelines for much longer.

---

"Okay, back up," Betty said in between bites, her half-eaten cupcake getting tossed around in her hand. "Your dad tried to overthrow his own prison?"

"Yep," Veronica stated matter-of-factly as she carefully reached into the white box between them on the table, pulling out a second confection. The two sat across from each other at the dining room table in the Pembrooke.

Veronica had made Archie drag Jughead to Pop's for the evening so she could steal some time with Betty. She had offered to pick Betty up from her therapy appointment, knowing that her friend usually left those a little shaken. So she came armed with sugar and stories, hoping to raise any spirits that may have been lowered.

"And Mr. Keller was the one who stopped it?" Betty asked, a mixture of alarm and awe in her voice.

So far it seemed to be working.

"Along with a few of the other guards." Veronica nodded, stopping her delicate peeling of the wrapper to swipe at a loose strand of hair. "Think Attica but without all the fatalities."

Betty gawked, not entirely buying that description. "Did you see the aftermath? Did you see your dad?"

A frown formed on Veronica's face, her shoulders stiffening. She could tell Betty saw the change in body language, as she stopped eating, raising an eyebrow instead. "No," Veronica said slowly, lowering her cupcake. "I heard about it all secondhand from Mr. Keller. It happened the night we found you."

"Oh," Betty murmured, running her nails gently over the tabletop, placing her cupcake back down in its wrapper. Veronica's eyes darted around, wracking her brain for a turn of conversation, but her curiosity got the better of her first.

"Now that it's just us girls," Veronica began cautiously, an audible caginess in her inflection. "And I only ask because I have seen far too many HBO documentaries, but-," her voice quieted, her arms crossing on the table as though leaning into a secret. "Did Edgar…" She shouldn't be asking this but it was too late. "Was there any…?"

Betty's eyes widened at the insinuation, her cheeks involuntarily growing flush. "No," she said resolutely. "Thank god, no." She lifted her hand as though trying to swat away the imagery. "It was nothing like that."

Veronica raised her hands back in defense, some redness creeping into her face as well. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure." She shook her head, feeling slightly sick. Why did she think going Detective Benson on her friend would be a good idea? "The thought of you out there, alone, at the mercy of god-knows-who was driving me crazy."

"Hey." Betty reached a hand across the table to Veronica, resting it reassuringly on her arm. "Hey, I'm here now, V, okay?" She gave Veronica a supportive smile. "Really, I should be worried about you being alone here."

Veronica leaned back, taken by surprise at Betty's comment. Just because she had been missing didn't mean she had lost her awareness it seemed.

She took the opportunity to pass her gaze discreetly around the penthouse, its darkened corners now host to only one occupant. "It's been fine. Archie's kept me company some nights. I don't mind having the house all to myself."

It wasn't a lie. It also wasn't the truth.

"Well if it ever starts feeling too empty, I'm always down for a girl's night." Betty smiled. "You might even be able to help me through this stack of assignments you so generously got for me." She patted the pile of books and papers Veronica had gifted to her earlier.

Veronica's eyes lit back up. Betty knew how to guide the conversation too. "And if your house ever feels too crowded, you are always welcome here."

"Thanks, V." Betty rose from her chair, tilting her head. "But tonight I do need to get back home," she said a bit despondently, her hand sliding off the books. "Unsurprisingly, my mom wants me home before dark."

"Case in point," Veronica attested, lifting herself up and around the side of the table. "I'll have Smithers carry those down to the car for you. But first-," Veronica leaned forward, pulling Betty in for a hug.

"In case I haven't said it yet, I'm so glad you're safe, B."

---

Smoky yellow light seeped into the office through the cloudy window, the morning haze mingling with the steam wafting from the freshly poured mug of coffee sitting beside an open computer.

Charles stared at the bright computer screen, the black text from the long and extensive document pulsing behind his eyes. His fingers twitched above the mouse as he continued to scroll through the length of paragraphs, attempting to get through the record without his stomach turning.

He wasn't having much luck.

"…purchased a remote cabin which he fitted with…"

Scroll.

"…buried alive inside a wooden casket…"

Click.

"…the perpetrator repeatedly forcibly administered a sedative of unknown origins…"

Scroll. Click.

Charles' fingers curled, his hand shooting into his pocket, balling into a fist.

"Hey, Smith."

Charles flinched as Kane walked into the hazy office, quickly pulling his hand out of his pocket as his supervisor stood over his shoulder. "How are the charging documents coming along?"

Charles blinked, wrenching his eyes away from the depressing computer screen and turning to look at Kane. "Good, yeah, it's going good."

Agent Kane remained standing over Charles, the stoic, reserved expression remaining fixed on his face. "My offer to complete those for the case still stands. I have all the information from the debrief."

Charles cleared his throat, swinging around in his chair and shaking his head. "No, it's okay. I'm almost done." He waved a hand toward the computer. "I've written up dozens of these."

Kane crossed his arms. "Not one you're so close to. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I know," Charles swallowed, tapping the edge of his desk. "I'll be fine."

Kane remained standing, staring thoughtfully at Charles, before sighing and relaxing his arms. "Okay, Smith." He nodded his head, turning around and strolling out of the make-shift office back down the hallway to his own.

Charles' gaze lingered on the open doorway for a moment, his hand gingerly slipping back to his pocket. He faced forward, back toward the glowing document on his computer. His hand rose slowly, uncurling, and with it, a small plastic baggie.

He could feel the vibrations underneath the desk from his foot tapping incessantly against the tiled floor. A bead of sweat formed at the edge of Charles' temple as he felt the weight of the knot in his stomach return.

He ran a hand over his face, his nose wriggling as he scrunched the plastic bag. Charles glanced back up at the document open before him, the harsh line of the cursor blinking at him, waiting for the remaining distressing details still yet to be disclosed.

Before he knew it, the seal to the bag was broken and Charles was chasing down a pill with a still too hot cup of coffee.

---

"Alright Vixens, take five," Cheryl called to the mass of girls spread around the gym floor, their smiles faltering as they remained frozen in their final positions of the dance number that had just finished. "Stay loose and limber though, we have some work to do before Friday."

The girls groaned, shaking free of their theatrics, breaking away into smaller clumps as they stretched their arms and legs out. Cheryl strode over to Toni and Veronica, the two also unable to escape the effects of the grueling routine.

"What's with the ringmaster act today, Cheryl?" Veronica protested, reaching into her gym bag and pulling out a nail file. "You haven't pushed us this hard all year."

"Exactly." Cheryl shook out her long red hair, running a hand through it. "Which is why we suck."

Veronica didn't look convinced. "Friday's just a football game, it's not like it's a pep rally or competition."

Cheryl was about to combat her remarks when Toni knit her brow and leaned in toward her. "Babe." Her voice was quiet, low enough for only the two of them to hear. "If this is about what we've been talking through, if this is just your way of distracting yourself, that's fine, but don't take it out on the team."

"I'm not." Cheryl proclaimed loud enough for Veronica and a few other girls to turn their heads. She turned back to Toni, lowering her voice. "It's my last year as a Vixen. I just want us to be as good as we can."

Toni still looked doubtful but she put her hand on Cheryl's arm. "Okay, but maybe pump the brakes a bit, okay?"

Cheryl nodded and the two leaned closer into each other.

"Psst!"

A hiss drifted through the gym. The three girls exchanged glances, alternating their heads in different directions before finally figuring out where the sound was coming from.

Kevin had ducked his head into the gym, standing partially stooped in the open doorway. He cocked his head enthusiastically when the girls finally noticed him.

Cheryl, Toni, and Veronica all gave each other confused looks before walking over to Kevin, who stepped fully into the gym.

"What's up, Crouching Tiger?" Toni ribbed as they reached the doorway, an amused smirk on her face at the sight of their giant of a friend trying to act stealthily in the literal open doorway of a high school gym.

"You're all on the decorating committee for the winter formal, right?" He asked as he straightened himself up, smoothing the front of his shirt.

They all nodded.

"Do you have access to any of those decorations already?" he asked expectantly, an eager glimmer in his eye. Cheryl noticed Veronica give him a particularly questioning head tilt, something being spoken between them silently, in which Kevin gave her a thumbs up in response.

"We do, but the formal isn't for a few more weeks," Cheryl said, meeting Toni's equal look of confusion. "Why do you ask?"

---

Archie slammed a stack of pizza boxes down on one of the wooden tables set up in a line next to the boxing ring. As he shuffled them down the row, he flipped open and folded back each lid. Mad Dog stood next to him, laying paper plates and plastic silverware at the end of one of the tables.

"Alright, who's hungry?" Archie called out as he opened the last box, the smell of cheese and pepperoni wafting to his nose. A chorus of small shouts met his question as a group of kids and teenagers flooded the tables.

Elliot rushed his brother, his backpack still hanging open after coming from the study room with TJ, the latter grabbing a plate and pushing himself into Archie's side.

"Did you get buffalo chicken?" TJ asked hungrily as he scanned the pizzas. Archie smiled and pointed down the row of boxes, ruffling the boy's hair as he darted to the other end, pushing into the small horde of kids surrounding the food.

"When you invited me, Red, I didn't realize dinner was included."

Archie turned around, finding FP, Betty, and Jellybean standing a few feet away. FP was looking around the space and Archie wondered at that moment if he had ever seen the place before, pre-community center or otherwise.

"It's looking good." FP stepped forward, slapping a hand on his back. "I remember when this place used to be an operating gym back in the day, but this-," he spun a finger in the air, pointing around the room, "this is something else."

A light chuckle came from Archie as he walked over. "Hey, Mr. Jones, you made it." He glanced around FP's shoulder. "Hey, Betty, I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, she knew I was heading over here and wanted to come." FP turned toward Betty, who nodded in accord. "And I thought JB could hang out while we talk."

"Of course," Archie responded. "Feel free to grab some pizza, there's plenty. We're hosting a community dinner tonight."

"Ice cream too!" Elliot zig-zagged in between Archie and FP, spoon in hand, on his way over to Mad Dog.

Archie smirked. "And an ice cream bar, too." He waved an arm toward another table set up around the corner of the boxing ring, another cluster of kids – already including JB – were spooning huge scoops of chocolate and vanilla into Styrofoam bowls.

"Well, looks like we've already got a clean-up in Aisle Two." Mad Dog came up beside Archie, patting him on the chest, staring behind the redhead. A whole tub of sprinkles had been knocked over onto the table and the kids were throwing them at each other, much to the chagrin of some of their parents.

Mad Dog turned to Betty, a wholesome smile appearing on his face. "Hi, Betty, good to see you."

Betty smiled back. "Hi, Monroe."

"Ah!" Mad Dog pointed at Archie, slapping him on the back, a good-natured smirk on his face. "At least someone respects me enough to call me by my real name." He gave Archie another impish eyeful before handing over to the ice cream table.

"Hey, I met you with that stupid nickname, I'm calling you it!" Archie jabbed back as Mad Dog walked away. He turned back around to Betty and FP. "Betty, will you be okay out here for a bit? I need to talk to Mr. Jones." Archie leaned on the table.

"Surrounded by pizza and middle schoolers?" Now it was Betty's turn to smirk as she turned to Archie after a quick glance around the hall. "I think I can handle it."

xxx

Archie closed the door to the office, shutting out the noise of the lively center before he joined FP in front of the picture window.

"So what's the word, Archie? Any open spots with the crew?" FP asked, perching loosely on the stool in front of the desk.

Archie curled his hands around the wooden edge of the desk, swinging himself up on top of it. "Vic said there's a big project coming up and they could use some more guys. You've got a spot on the crew if you want it."

FP grinned and clapped a hand on his knee. "That's great! Now I really owe you one." He rocked on the stool, spinning around to stare reflectively out the picture window. "Look at this place, a community center, running your dad's company… and all as a senior in high school. Your old man would be so proud of ya."

Archie crossed his arms, rising from the desk as he felt his chest grow tight. "I think he would be, Mr. Jones." He went to stand in front of the window as well, staring out into the room. "But I also think he'd tell me I'm trying to do too much for a senior in high school."

He heard FP draw in a deep breath and the stool creak and soon both men were standing.

FP tapped his arm against the glass. "You know you could have told me about the crew opening at my house or yours instead of calling me all the way down here." FP put his hands in his pockets and turned toward Archie. "What else did you want to talk to me about, Red?"

Archie continued staring out the window. "After everything that's happened, after already losing so much time to murder investigations and jail-," he looked through the glass, at Betty sitting on the edge of the ring with JB and Elliot. "I don't want to lose any more time with all my friends this year."

"What are you saying?" FP looked at Archie with concern.

Archie awkwardly leaned back up against the desk. "I want to step back from the community center."

"You just opened." FP looked stunned. "And you already want to leave?"

"No, not leave!" Archie rose to his feet again, shaking his head. "Just limit my responsibilities. And get someone more experienced than me or Monroe to help run it."

FP leaned back on a heel and looked back out the window. Then his brow crinkled, and he looked at Archie, then back through the glass, and then to Archie again, his mouth opening. He exhaled, his hands slowly wrapping around the window sill as the realization of why Archie had invited him dawned. "And you want me to…?"

"I really think the kids could use an adult to look up to."

"Hold on-," FP leaned an arm against the window, now fully turned toward Archie. "I just resigned from being the sheriff, for putting a bunch of teenagers in danger." Archie could hear the stress FP put on that last word.

"No, for protecting a bunch of teenagers! And stubborn ones at that," Archie fired back before FP could debase himself any further. "That's what some of these kids need. To know that there are adults out there that are on their side."

FP stood quietly, staring at nothing through the window, his arm still against it above his head. His eyes were unreadable. When he continued to not say anything, Archie quickly added, "You could just start as a volunteer, we need more anyway. Nothing big, no commitment."

When FP did respond, all he said was, "I'll need some time to think about it."

Archie tucked his hands into his pockets and gave a slight nod. "That's fine. Just let me know."

He and FP both remained staring out the picture window into the main area, watching as kids continued to rummage through the pizza boxes. Pockets of parents were spaced out having conversations, their children running around them. Mad Dog and Elliot were sitting in the middle of the ring now, the brothers in the middle of a root beer float chugging contest.

"So how's she doing?" Archie asked quietly, his eyes drifting to the ice cream table where Betty stood, JB drizzling a copious amount of chocolate syrup on top of a bowl of vanilla ice cream for her.

FP finally removed his arm from the window, giving a generous sigh as he did. "She's Betty. She's like her mom, she's tough." He crossed his arms. "Doesn't like to let people see it when she's hurting."

Archie huffed, his eyes still through the glass. He knew. "What can I do to help her?"

FP turned to him. "Drop that weight off your shoulders and go be her friend."

---

Betty sat on the edge of the boxing ring, a melting bowl of ice cream next to her as she looked around the center, watching some kids run around playing, while others sat on bean bag chairs and other assorted furniture, eating pizza together. Parents were scattered around the area, some on the balcony above the ring, leaning against the rail and talking. Pop music hummed above all the chatter and noise in the room.

She smiled a wistful smile.

"Hey, Betty." Archie appeared, walking away from the office, FP behind him. The older man gave the two of them a quick look, then broke away, heading instead toward where JB was playing a board game with Elliot and Monroe.

Betty tilted her head, looking after him, but soon let it go. "Arch," she said, sliding over to let Archie sit next to her. "You've outdone yourself here. This is incredible."

Archie gave an uncertain smirk. "You think so? It's still a work in progress."

"Yeah, but it looks like you and Monroe created a real safe space for these kids." She passed her gaze around the room again. "That's something to be proud of."

Archie swung his head toward her, a cheeky smile on his face. He looked out into the crowd, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "Hey, TJ!" The redhead made a 'come here' motion with his hand to a brown-haired kid in a hoodie and baseball cap.

"TJ," Archie said, standing to greet the boy. "I have someone I want you to meet. This is my friend, Betty."

Betty smiled and reached out a hand. "Hi TJ, nice to meet you, Archie's told me a little bit about you." TJ shook her hand back. "You like the Riverdale Rockets?" she asked, pointing to his cap. "I like them too. Did you know Archie and I went to their baseball camp when we were your age?"

"Really?" His eyes grew wide. "That's so cool! I've been trying to get my dad to let me go in the spring but he says we don't have the money." TJ's face turned down for a moment before he pointed back at Betty. "Did you hurt your arm playing baseball?"

"Oh, uh-," Betty lifted the slinged arm, glancing at Archie, who quickly shot a hand down to TJ's shoulder, his own flustered eyes still on Betty. "No, I-,"

"You know, TJ, it's not always polite to ask about someone's injuries," Archie interrupted, starting to push him toward the food table. "Have you gotten any ice cream ye-,"

"Hey, wait…" TJ squinted, his eyes moving from Betty's sling to her face, his feet still planted to the ground despite Archie's attempts to steer him away. His eyes went wide a second time. "You're the girl from the news! The one who was lost."

Betty could feel her cheeks begin to grow hot and she saw Archie's face begin to match his hair.

"Archie, you never said you knew her!" TJ's face looked almost starstruck, an expression Betty wasn't used to seeing. He turned back to Betty after Archie failed to respond to his exclamation. "Do you have any scars, too? Like Archie?"

The pop music thumped around them, the only thing in Betty's ears at the moment. Archie's face officially matched his head.

She felt a knot in her stomach, but at the same time there was something in TJ's face, the way he was looking at her with no judgment, only admiration, that kept her breathing even and made her say, "Yeah, I do. A few, actually. I can show you one." She pushed up the sleeve of her right arm, revealing the long, white jagged line that ran up her forearm.

TJ gently reached out to touch it, and as he did, Betty could almost feel the raw burning of the cut she had woken up to, the sleeve of her jacket ripped and bloodied from an injury she didn't know how she had gotten, and probably never would.

TJ pulled his hand away and Betty noticed Archie watching her curiously too. There was something in his eyes. Maybe guilt, maybe shame. "Scars can be good things. Scars mean you survived." She kept looking at Archie as she pulled her sleeve down before sending a faint smile to TJ.

"You guys are so cool!" he exclaimed, the look of awe on his face never diminishing.

"TJ!" Elliot and JB called from the other end of the room, waving him over from the entrance to the study room.

The boy looked at Archie and Betty one last time, yelling a hurried, "Nice to meet you!" before jogging away to his friends.

Archie stared after TJ as he ran away before turning toward Betty, the expression on his face alone an apology. "I'm so sorry about that, Betty. TJ's a good kid but he doesn't always have the best tact."

"It's okay, Arch." Betty stood, pushing aside her neglected plate and bowl. "It was kind of nice to have someone not look at me as though I was about to fall apart." Archie's eyebrows remained upturned, his mouth a straight line. "Which is how you're looking at me right now."

Archie quickly dropped his head and rubbed his neck. "Sorry," he apologized again, "we just want to make sure you're okay."

Betty took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders as she searched his eyes. She knew that, she did, it just got exhausting fast.

"And I'm sorry about the welcome home party," Archie continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "But look at it this way, at least Veronica wasn't the one throwing it. She might have tried to sing to you."

Betty snickered as the two of them leaned back against the ropes. Archie ended up laughing too, their conversation turning back to the days of musicals and baseball.

"Betty-," Archie eventually said, his voice slightly hesitant as he reached a hand into the pocket of his varsity jacket. "Yesterday at school, Jughead and I were… taking care of some things, and well, Jughead didn't think you would want to see any of these, but I thought you should have them." He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to her.

Betty reached forward, grabbing the item from Archie; a stack of colored cards and folded paper held together by a rubber band.

"They're from your locker," he said quietly. "People have been leaving them this whole time."

Betty stared at them, a lump catching in her throat as she turned the stack over in her hand. Snippets of some of the handwritten notes were visible, blurring in her vision as she felt the edges of her eyes well up, and she quickly looked away and back at Archie.

He wrapped her in a big hug, being careful of her arm, and she felt a few tears slide onto his jacket as she hugged him back.

"I'm glad I can still say hello and not just goodbye."

Betty breathed in Archie's words, wondering if one of the cards in her hand said something similar and if she would find it written in the familiar chicken scratch that was her best friends' handwriting.

---

The truck rumbled softly down the road as FP sat behind the wheel, JB leaning against his shoulder, passed out from the evening's events and sugar intake. Betty sat beside her, pensively staring out the front window into the dark ahead, a little stack of papers cradled in her lap.

"I hope tonight was okay, I didn't know there'd be so many people at the center tonight."

She hadn't spoken much since leaving. He had seen her and Archie get into what had looked like a pretty serious talk at one point and he only hoped Red had headed his advice – the kid's own advice, really – and had not tried to play savior tonight, not as Jughead so often tried to do, and instead had just tried to be her friend.

"No, it was good," Betty answered quietly, her voice tired. "Thanks for letting me tag along."

Maybe this had effectively tired her out enough for her to finally fall asleep, unlike the last two nights. They did say third time's the charm.

"Yeah, no problem," FP replied. "If you need any more rides before you're cleared to drive again-," he slanted his head toward her sling, "just let me know."

Betty looked over at him, a brow upturned. He frowned. "What?"

"I know you're all playing hot potato with me." Her eyes continued staring up at FP expectantly. He tapped the wheel, slightly embarrassed. He looked down at her, exhaling as he bobbed his head in admission. Betty turned, raising her eyebrows as she did. "It's okay. I get it. Is the station wagon still in evidence?"

"Yeah," FP answered. "We won't be getting it back anytime soon."

The teen was silent for a moment before finally saying, "Good." He turned to look at her again, the passing streams of light from the streetlamps giving her eyes a fiery edge as they met in the dark. "It's time for something new. Maybe I can finally get a car of my own."

He rolled the truck around the corner to Elm Street. FP couldn't disagree with that. "We could probably convince your mom of that. Maybe you and Jughead could go look for one toget-,"

"Oh no."

Betty's apprehensive words stopped his thought, and when he looked over again, her face looked just as worried as she'd sounded. She was leaning forward and focused on something in front of the trunk.

FP slowed down and peered through the windshield himself, his face draining of color as he saw what the teen noticed before him.

An undulating crowd of people with cameras and microphones were swarming all over the front lawn of the house, spilling out into the street and even into the neighbor's yards like a cloud of locust, waiting to descend and devour whatever came into their path.

"Okay, hold on," FP said, anger rising as he began a hasty three-point turn. "We'll go around back."

"I've been back for three days, and now the vultures decide to come out?" Betty asked, similar vitriol in her voice as she continued to stare at the gathered crowd through the back window.

FP wondered the same thing as he pulled the truck into the alley behind the row of houses, hoping Alice was okay as he parked quietly in the dark beside the Andrew's garage. He gently shook Jellybean awake and popped out of the truck into the cold, night air. "I don't know, but I don't like it. Come on, back door," he said, hurrying across the backyard to the back porch.

He shuffled a still groggy JB inside, then Betty, shielding the teen, taking a last look through the dark, before locking the door behind him.

FP turned around, wholly unprepared for what met his eyes as he did.

Three blinding lights were set up around the living room, illuminating the entire downstairs area. Two large news cameras were pointed into the room, operators sitting behind them, chattering into headsets as a small crew of people scurried around the house freely.

Two chairs were set up beneath the lights, and a make-up artist standing in front of one, dabbing at the face of none other than Alice, dressed in full business attire, a mic pack sitting in her lap.

FP couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Mom." Betty stepped forward warily, her eyes wide and slanted. "What's going on?"

Alice looked up, shooing the make-up assistant away, an outlandish smile on her lips.

"Oh, Betty, good! You're home."

---

A/N:

And there's another chapter! Don't worry, the drama's still here. I did say that healing is a long road ;)

As always, let me know what you think and leave a review if you feel so inclined! I really love reading everyone's thoughts and notes and it helps me stay motivated!

I'll try to update a bit more regularly now, which will still be like maybe once a month or every two months (work schedule, yay!) but chugging along to finish this story! I've got some scenes I'm really excited about writing coming up, so stick around! Lots of emotions moving forward as I try to ground these characters and the town of Riverdale again!