Well, hello everyone!
After what felt like a tragedy in losing my file, it turns out my memory was better than I expected, and I was able to rewrite the whole thing in about a week. And yes, as most writers can agree on the pain of losing hard work, they can also agree that usually rebuilding turns into better writing. And that's what I feel I am able to give to you know - there are definitely some scenes in here I was able to flesh out and build back better! So, yay for that! Because you get to read a better version now.
Fanfic116, welcome! So glad you found this story and have been enjoying it!
LukeSkywalker2567, you have a keen sense there, as yes, I'd say more drama is coming ;) And thank you for the kind words! It means a lot as a writer!
Boris Yeltsin, yes, Alice does still have a lot to learn, but this chapter and the next are definitely hers to an extent, she is learning! It just takes time.
ButtonMashr, cake does make everything better, no? I'm so glad my humor with these characters is coming across to you! I don't know why I keep digging myself deeper into this court case, but here I am. I've known since the beginning that was my trajectory the whole time and back then it was far away and I could write all kinds of stuff until then, but now it's approaching and I'm kicking myself for knowing I have to eventually write a court chapter. But here's to growing and challenging ourselves to try new stuff! Even if it's brutal. Yay for FP, too! Always yay for FP! And yes, Alice does go too far sometimes... but sometimes it's so she can learn things once and for all on my version of the screen ;)
Let's get on to the chapter!
Chapter 19 – Mother Knows Best
"Oh, Betty, good! You're home."
Alice was sending her daughter an exaggerated smile as she stood underneath 1000 Watt lights and a coat of make-up, a sound engineer stringing a microphone wire through the back of her chair. The teen had gone rigid and FP could see her shoulders were drawn up tight. His hands went down to his hips as he stared around the living room at the flurry of people that looked far too comfortable moving around a house that wasn't theirs.
FP pushed Jellybean forward, trying to nudge her away from the flock of crew members. "JB, head upstairs."
"What's going on?" she said through a yawn, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Are we going to be on TV?"
"JB, upstairs. Now. Please." FP repeated in a sterner tone, the commands short and pointed as he stepped forward, feeling his frustration growing.
Jellybean scurried up the stairs and FP turned his attention back to the scene happening in the living room.
"Mom, what is this?"
Betty stood frozen in the middle of the room, her eyebrows narrowing at her mother, yet the eyes below them remained wide. FP had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question but hoped to hear an explanation from her mother.
The sound tech finished up with Alice and scurried over to Betty, another mic pack in his outstretched hand. She wrinkled her nose and slapped it away. "No."
Before Alice could answer back, a woman carrying a clipboard and wearing a headset that pressed her short, curly hair against her face stepped forward. "Rita Johnson, producer for RIVW." She extended her arm, sticking out a manicured hand.
Betty blinked down at it.
Rita's perky smile remained unyielding, but her eyebrow twitched and she quickly drew her hand back, wrapping it around her clipboard instead. Without skipping a beat, she said, "You kid, are the talk of the town. Your disappearance and daring rescue, the arrest of a prolific cult leader. What a story!"
Betty flashed a glare at her mother, who was still sending her an embellished smile.
Rita fanned her hands out in front of her, the clipboard rattling at the move. "We're calling it, 'The One That Got Away.' She smiled at nothing in the distance, her eyes lost in admiration at her own genius. "It works in two senses, you see. Catchy, no?"
"No," FP and Betty both stated, the latter stepping forward and further into the room, her eyes fully narrowing as she did. FP stepped between the producer and the teen, sending Alice an exasperated stare, but it was like she didn't even notice he was there; her eyes were locked on her daughter.
The producer cocked her head, clapping her hands together and tucking the clipboard under her arm in one fluid motion, her jaw squaring. "We were just thrilled when your mother told us that you would do an exclusive for RIVW."
Betty swung her head back toward Alice, a tic at the edge of her upturned mouth. "Oh I did, did I?"
"Betty," Alice finally spoke, her plastered smile still stretched across her face as she rose from her chair and stepped forward. "I thought this could be good for us, good for you."
FP could feel his anger growing, but he also furrowed his brow at Alice. There was something else beneath her elaborated veneer. Desperation.
"So you thought you'd just surprise me again?" Betty ran a hand over her hair, her head beginning to bob. "That's typical."
Alice's smile slightly faltered but she continued. "Everyone only knows bits and pieces of what happened, and there's a lot of people that would like to know the whole story."
Oh.
Oh no.
FP could feel himself begin to sweat, and he knew it wasn't because of the lights.
Alice, no.
"And you didn't think to tell me?" The teen's shoulders were tense as she slanted her eyebrows. "Just like you couldn't tell me you were working with the FBI? And I had to find out after you were already gone?"
A small hiss of microphone feedback emanated from somewhere in the room and FP noticed that a good chunk of the crew that had been ambling around had grown still and silent, their eyes on the mother and daughter that were now squaring off, their features amplified under the harsh sheen of the lights in the living room.
One of the camera operators was slowly swinging his camera around toward Betty, and FP stepped to the side, pretending not to hear him mutter something under his breath about the shot being ruined.
Alice's smile had completely disappeared now. "Honey, you don't know how much I wanted to." Her voice was quiet as her veneer completely fell away. "I was trying to protect you, I was trying to protect Polly!"
FP's eyes continued to flick between the two of them, but now neither seemed to notice that there were others in the room.
"Why didn't you try to mention it, or say anything at all?" Betty's question was strained, almost pleading, as though it had been waiting on her tongue for months. Her head continued to bob and FP saw she was grabbing at her shoulder. "I watched you grow distant for months, scared that I was going to completely lose you!"
"And I was trying not to lose your sister!" Alice's voice rose and someone in the corner of the room threw off their headphones. She closed her eyes, sucking in a steady breath before responding. "You have no idea how hard it was for me to make that decision, but I was trying to do what I thought was best for her, what was best for you!"
"What was best for me?" The question came out more as a cough than an actual sentence and Betty sputtered, trying to hold back the tears that had begun to form in her shining eyes. "Like sending me to the Sisters and giving away my money? That was also best for me?"
FP rocked on his heels and glanced down at the floor.
Betty continued to bob her head. "And now because I wouldn't talk to you the other night when we were in this room, the one that's now filled with a bunch of strangers-," she flung her arm out, gesturing for emphasis, "-when I was crying, you now want me to talk about my pain, our trauma, with everyone?" Her mouth trembled and her face dropped for a moment. She rubbed her temple and shook her head. "But mother knows best, right?"
Rita whispered something to the camera operator next to her and she silently capped her lens. The camera that FP was still next to had begun to slowly point down at the floor as well.
"And then you left." The tears were free now, whatever had been holding the memories back so far now gone. Betty pulled in an uneven breath, her nose running. "You just left, and on the same night that Dad died. My whole family gone in one night and all in the name of 'what was best for me.'"
Alice stood silently in the middle of the room, her open mouth curled up into a pained expression. Everyone was staring at her, but she was once again only staring at Betty.
When she finally spoke, it was heavy and low. "I had already failed her once before, Betty. I couldn't leave Polly alone with him."
Betty scoffed, her voice audibly cracking. "Yeah, well, I guess you worried about the wrong daughter because look how that turned out." She shook her head and turned around, tearing through the camera crew to get to the back door.
"Betty, wait," Alice called after. She stepped forward but stumbled as the wire from her mic caught against the chair. She looked up with frantic eyes. "FP-,"
He shot a hand up toward her, his face indifferent. "You've done enough. I want all of these people out of our house." FP turned around to follow Betty out the back door. He could hear muffled yelling and what sounded like a crash behind him as he walked back out into the chilly night air.
"Come on, Betty, I'll drive."
Veronica looked up from her book as a soft knock sounded through the apartment. She paused, grabbing her phone off the table to check if she had missed any messages. She hadn't, and a tense knot began to form in her stomach in response.
She shut her book and laid it down on the table, hesitantly heading toward the front door. As Veronica approached, she peered through the peephole and her whole demeanor shifted. She quickly opened the door, trying to hold back a look of surprise at who was standing in the hallway.
"Betty!" Veronica moved to the side, letting the girl come in. "Are you okay?"
She was obviously not okay. Her face was red and splotchy and it looked like she was desperately trying to maintain the appearance that she was currently breathing normally.
"Yeah, I, uh…" Betty swallowed and managed to flash Veronica a small smile. "The house was starting to feel crowded and I thought that maybe I could hang out with you for a while. Sorry I didn't give you a heads up."
"It's okay," Veronica replied, giving Betty a reassuring smile back.
Betty turned her face to the floor and as she did, Veronica frowned, giving her friend a closer once-over while she had the chance. Betty had her hand tucked into her pocket, but Veronica could see that it was shaking, and she only had her purse on her, meaning wherever she had just come from, she had left in a hurry, and Veronica's had not been the intended destination.
Betty turned back toward her and Veronica put the smile back on her face.
"Come on, let's have that girls' night."
Jughead toyed with an empty coffee cup sitting on the counter in front of him, absently staring around at the guests in the diner.
"Need a refill, Jughead?" Pop broke him out of his stupor, placing two large white to-go bags in front of him.
"No, no, I'm good, Pop," he said, straightening up and scooping the bags into his arms. "Gotta get these back home."
Pop nodded and picked up the empty cup. "Say, when's Betty coming back in now that she's home? I miss seeing her around." Pop slung a rag over his shoulder, a hopeful grin crossing his face.
"Soon, I'm sure." Jughead smiled back. "We're taking everything a bit slow." He lifted his arms away from the counter, heaving the bags of food up with them. "Thanks, Pop!" He tilted the bags toward the diner owner in an appreciative gesture before turning around toward the door.
He felt a vibration in his pocket and stopped, shifting one of the bags higher on his arm as he fished his phone out and held it to his ear.
"Hey, Dad, I just picked up dinner, I'm headed back no-," Jughead's mouth stiffened into a tight frown and he stopped, his brow crinkling as he continued listening to his father.
His eyes quickly darted around in front of him before widening. "What? Is she okay?"
Jughead transferred the bags further up his arm as he pressed his ear to his shoulder to hold the phone steady, his mouth hanging open, his tongue curling pensively over his teeth.
"Where is she? I'll talk to he-,"
He cocked his head, his widened pupils now narrowing. The bell over the door jingled as a few patrons walked around him into the restaurant.
"No, Dad, I-,"
He paused, shoving his tongue into his cheek to keep from biting it.
"Fine. Yeah, fine, I'll-, okay. Bye."
Jughead hung up and moved his head away from his phone, catching it quickly in his hand as he slid it forward. He held it against the to-go bags, his grip tight around it. More customers brushed by him as he continued to stand unmoving in the middle of the diner, his nose twitching.
Finally, he sighed and took a step forward, but then paused, and then lifted his foot off the ground again before ultimately huffing and twirling back around toward the counter.
"You know what, Pop? I think I will take that refill after all."
FP shut the door gently behind him as he re-entered the now quiet house. Only a few lights were on in the dining room, the crew and equipment nowhere to be seen, everything put back into place. Save, FP noticed, for an empty spot on the dining room table where he knew a vase used to sit.
His eyes moved to the person sitting at the table, her once meticulously done make-up now muddled and streaked across her face. She was also nursing a glass of wine in one hand, a wad of crumpled tissues in the other.
Alice lifted her head as FP stepped toward her, his hands resting on his hips. "Is she okay?"
FP gave a short nod as he walked the rest of the distance to the table and stood across from her, wrapping his hands around the top of a chair. "She's at Veronica's. She's going to stay there for the night."
Alice set her glass down and began to fiddle with the crinkled tissues in her hand, nodding slowly as she did. "Good. That's good."
FP's knuckles tightened around the chair before he pulled it out from underneath the table and slowly sat down. He clasped his hands together on the tabletop and looked forward, letting out a long-held breath.
"Alice, what were you thinking?"
He asked it as a genuine question, though also not without contempt. He had watched as Betty sat silently next to him as they drove across town, curled up against the passenger side door, her eyes plastered on nothing out the window as the haze of the streetlamps passed intermittently through the dark truck. She had practically jumped out of the vehicle before it had stopped moving when they had reached the Pembrooke, darting inside the high-rise without even looking back.
That was something he couldn't forget, but he knew there had to be something more to Alice's actions. He had known her since they were teenage Serpents running around the Southside together, and while they were younger and more irrational then, no matter how carried away Alice's actions seemed at times, FP knew there was always, always, a reason behind them.
Alice tapped her nail on the side of her glass, looking over at FP with puffy eyes. "I just wanted to know what she went through, FP."
"We all want to know what happened." He tilted his head, a disquiet crossing his face. "But trying to get her to talk to the news, and letting her just walk into it like that?"
"She never would have agreed to it," Alice answered quietly.
FP balked, his eyes yelling 'You think?' back at her. She took another swig.
FP moved his hands to the back of his neck, his fingers interlocking. "She hasn't even been able to talk to any of her friends and family about it yet." He let out a disappointed groan. "You heard the things she said tonight, you saw her at the hospital." FP shook his head. "Alice, she hasn't even been home a week."
"I know that!" She let out an exasperated cry. "But-," she stuttered, bringing her hands in front of her face, her head shaking.
"But what?" FP asked patiently, leaning forward.
She took a long breath, frustrated wrinkles fluttering across her lips. "Mary said that I needed to know her story for the trial, and that there were ways that made it so she wouldn't have to be in the courtroom. They could have used it as her testimony."
She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers twisting through the golden locks. She took a sip and placed her wine glass back down with a small thud. "And I thought that if somehow, someway Polly was able to see it... if she could hear what that monster had done to her sister, she might finally see what I couldn't get her to this whole time."
FP closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "And you thought you could kill three birds with one stone." He rubbed his temple before crossing his arms.
Alice groaned and sank back into her chair. "Oh FP, I've been gone for too long. I was around that brute for too long." The admission seemed to spook Alice, her eyes widening. "I don't know how to talk to her. I'm not sure I ever did."
"Well, you're going to have to figure it out." FP rocked forward, his voice clear-cut. Alice looked at him and he clasped his hands together. "You can't leave things between the two of you like this."
"Alice-," he reached across the table and grabbed one of her hands. "Back when everything was happening with Jason's murder, I asked Jughead if I could read the book that he was writing. He thought that I was really interested in seeing his work – and I was! I still am, but I also wanted to read it to make sure he or anyone else hadn't gotten too close to figuring everything out. I was trying to save my own skin and in doing so I betrayed his trust and it took a while to build that back."
Alice drew in a breath. "I remember."
"What I'm saying is," FP continued. "Don't let Betty think that you only did this to try to help yourself. We can't be those people anymore, we can't do what our old selves would have done."
FP rubbed his thumb on the back of Alice's hand and she sat staring at him for a moment. "Betty's smart but she's still emotional, so maybe give it a day or two, but Alice-," he shook his head, a pleading look in his eyes. "Don't wait to make things right with her. Don't do what I did."
Alice ran the tissue over her face, her head slowly nodding as she stared up at FP. "I just got her back, I don't want to push her away again."
"You won't, despite what it looks like right now." FP shook his head, placing his other hand underneath Alice's, cradling it in his. "Because this is how we protect our kids."
Alice sucked in a shaky but deep breath, staring into FP's eyes. "By being there for them."
Veronica walked out of the bathroom, pulling her robe tighter around her as she stepped across the darkened apartment. She had spent the night watching a movie with Betty, who in turn had just sat staring blankly forward. She hadn't spoken, she hadn't eaten –- she had just sat there. According to Archie's texts, she had been fine at the community center, which meant something must have happened between then and now.
After the movie had ended, Veronica had laid out blankets and a set of pajamas for Betty and then had gotten ready for bed herself. Now the apartment had grown quiet and dark, the red glow of the clock above the mantle blinking back at her, signaling that it was past midnight.
Below the mantle, behind the black grate of the fireplace, was another glow that cast a pocket of light into the front of the apartment. The orange haze of a fire was casting flickering shadows against the wall, the silhouette of the couch and its occupant blinking in and out of the light's decay.
Veronica knit her brow and stepped forward quietly, craning her neck to check in on her friend, her face dropping as she took in the scene. Betty was lying on her side, her sling undone, holding a small stack of notes out in front of her, the pajamas still folded and untouched on the floor.
A cold chill ran down Veronica's back and she sighed, turning around toward the bedroom, but after a few steps she paused and glanced over her shoulder. The fire crackled softly in the dark and Veronica swallowed, turned fully around, and headed to the living room.
She wouldn't leave her friend alone, not this time.
Veronica sank down into the chair next to the couch, pulling her legs underneath her. Betty didn't look over but continued to shuffle through the notes she was holding. The fire popped, a few embers bouncing against the grate and Veronica turned to watch them.
"Why did you drink poison for me?"
Veronica whipped her head around at the unexpected question as Betty continued to stare into the flames.
"What?" Veronica asked quietly, shifting around to face her. She couldn't decide if the question itself or the despairing way Betty had asked it was more alarming.
"Why did you drink poison for me?" Betty repeated the question vacantly, her grip around the notes in her hand growing tighter. There was a weight to her voice, as though it were being dragged to the bottom of the ocean.
Veronica bit her lip, an apprehension balling in her stomach. "Because I didn't want you to die, B. I love you and didn't want you to get hurt."
"But I hurt you. I've hurt all of you." Betty sniffed and finally straightened up, coming to rest in a sitting position as she turned toward Veronica, her face shadowed by the flickering flames. "Was I worth it?"
Veronica felt a twinge in her chest and she slid off the chair, moving instead into the open space next to Betty. "Of course you were! You still are!"
Betty wiped at her face. "I've dragged everyone into all my messes and you all just keep getting hurt. Everyone keeps getting hurt because I think I know what's best for everyone." Her mouth scrunched up and she leaned back against the couch.
Veronica leaned back too. "Hey, we chose to be involved in the messes." She placed her elbow on the back of the couch, resting her head against her hand. "And isn't it worth it to try? To see if we can help?" She smiled encouragingly at her friend but Betty didn't seem convinced.
She didn't answer and instead turned back to the fire, her eyes obscured by the shadows that danced across her face in the glow. Betty thumbed the notes in her hand and her mouth trembled, and suddenly she sank to the floor, throwing the papers into the flames over the grate.
Veronica's eyes grew wide and she slipped down onto the carpet beside Betty. "What are you doing?"
"I don't deserve these," Betty sniveled, tossing another into the fireplace, watching as the edges of the paper caught fire, curling into itself until the inked words on it were swallowed up fully by the heat. "They don't know who they were writing to."
She tried to chuck a few more into the flames but Veronica reached out and grabbed Betty's arm. "Hey, hey, stop! Look at me." Betty struggled for a moment but ultimately fell back, looking through ashamed and reluctant eyes at Veronica, her attention still not fully there.
Betty had had her fair share of panicked questioning and anxious doubts during all of her investigations – they all had, really – but Veronica had never heard Betty sound so… hopeless.
Veronica narrowed her eyes. Or perhaps she had.
Betty was sounding an awful lot like she had on the tape she and the boys had heard in Fox Forest.
Maybe something hadn't necessarily happened tonight, maybe she was actually reliving something.
"What's going on, B?" Veronica tread carefully with the question, knowing she didn't want to push, yet at the same time wanted to inch closer to anything that could give her an inkling as to how she could help her best friend. "What's he saying to you right now?"
That question seemed to catch Betty off guard, and she blinked over at Veronica, her mouth slightly crooked.
Luckily - or unluckily - depending on how you viewed it, Veronica had remembered what Edgar's final vow had been to Betty as he was being hauled away.
And she wanted to make sure Betty's promise back to him remained louder.
"Is this what Edgar did?" Veronica softly asked as Betty's arms relaxed, and the two of them eased up against the front of the couch. "Make you feel like everything was your fault?"
Betty sniffed, wiping at her nose, The licking flames cast harsh shadows over her face, making it unreadable and distant, once again lost in something only she could see. "He said he wanted to show me what I've done and who I am."
Veronica frowned. "And do you believe him?"
Betty turned back to face the fire, her omission of an answer enough of one for Veronica to understand that, unfortunately, this was something Betty was going to be working through for a long time.
Veronica turned, following Betty's lead, and stared into the flames, trying to see what she could beyond the heat, what ghosts were playing behind her eyes.
There was movement beside her; Betty's hand had shifted to her side and was gently hovering above the bullet wound, a wince framed on her mouth. Veronica had noticed that her side began to hurt whenever she was upset, or whenever the subject got too close to something personal, as though it was her own individual version of Harry Potter's scar.
"I was back at Thornhill."
The quiet admission sounded through the room. Veronica shifted forward, her hands folding into her lap. "As in you were remembering it?" she asked hesitantly, feeling as though she already knew what the answer would be.
"No." Betty sniffed again, shaking her head. She drew her knees into her chest and crossed her arms overtop, resting her chin on them. "It was maybe a week in. I had been left alone since the first night, and then the next thing I knew I was waking up next to the place where my dad had died."
Veronica instinctively pulled Betty into a hug as the teen began to quiver, tears streaming down her face. "I was so close to home but I didn't run. Oh god, why didn't I try to run?"
"Hey, hey, stop it, this isn't your fault. Don't try to turn what he did back around on you." Veronica pulled away, afraid that she wasn't hiding the look of panic on her face very well. The rest of them had been at Thornhill, just a week too early. That thought made her nauseous.
"I was supposed to face the memory of that night," Betty hiccupped into the crook of her elbow. "But I'd already been playing that memory over and over in my head ever since it happened. I know who I am and it's a coward with a broken family."
Veronica positioned her head against the frame of the couch, a frown on her face. She was silent for a moment before responding, "Betty, do you know what I see when I think of who you are?"
Betty ran her sleeve over her eyes, glancing at Veronica.
"I see someone who has so much love for her family that she risked going up against a cult leader to save them. I see someone who cares so deeply about her friends that she was willing to sacrifice her life for them rather than see them get hurt."
Veronica gave Betty a small smile, her own eyes beginning to sting. "And I see someone who took a chance on a shallow, socialite of a city girl the first day they met and you know what? I'm the better for it. That's why I drank poison for you."
The two hugged again, Veronica embracing her tight. "You have so much courage, B. I saw it two years ago, and I still see it now. Let those be the kind of memories you're reminded of." She withdrew and the two of them fell back against the edge of the couch. "Just please, no more trying to sacrifice yourself, okay?"
Betty gave a nervous chuckle. But hey, it was laughter. "No promises." She smiled. "Thank you, V." She crossed her arms over her knee again and looked down at the floor, taking in a deep breath. "I did let good memories guide me too." She turned toward Veronica. "I needed them. I even thought about that day sophomore year when you taught me about slaying dragons. I've held onto that. It helped me escape."
The smile she was giving Veronica was nothing short of sincere admiration and now it was her turn to get choked up.
Betty picked up the remaining notes that had been left scattered on the floor, taking a quick glance at them before quietly stuffing them back into the pocket of her jacket that was hanging off the arm of the couch. "I know I just came back from a literal debrief, but I just don't know how to talk about everything with you guys. But I don't want to keep you in the dark."
"Well-," Veronica rose to her feet and walked to the edge of the fireplace, rotating the knob until the gas fire slowly blinked out. "You don't have to talk about it right now. But I'll be here if you just need someone to listen." She stepped forward, reaching a hand down to Betty, who took it appreciatively and slipped back onto the couch.
Betty nodded and grabbed a pillow, pulling it into her lap. "Is it okay if I put on another movie? I still don't think I'm going to fall asleep any time soon."
Veronica smiled, pulling a blanket up from the pile on the floor. "I'll make the popcorn."
Secrets weren't shared under the harsh glow of the spotlight, or at the attention of flashing cameras, but rather, secrets were shared in the comfort of the dark. There was something about the middle of the night that felt like an invitation, a place to be known. The dark was a beckon for the soul to bare itself and share its weight with the night, in turn making it a little easier to carry.
Shadows, after all, had no power, no foothold, without the light.
So friend spoke to friend through the night, baring their souls, making the weight a little easier, keeping themselves company in the light they had made for themselves.
"Okay, that is the last time we stay up late playing video games," Archie yawned from where he was laying on the couch in the student lounge, tossing a football in the air above him.
"You and I both know that's not true." Jughead rubbed his eyes, throwing his feet up on the table, leaning his head into the nook of the big chair across from him. "I've got a high score to settle."
Archie chuckled and turned his gaze back toward the ceiling, the remnants of a slight twinge still in his chest, a lingering reminder of why he and Jughead were up so late in the first place. He had come home from the community center last night to find Jughead camped out on his porch, empty Pop's wrappers strewn beside him as he heckled a stray paparazzi guy that had been loitering around Elm Street.
It had taken Archie a while to get Jughead calm enough to even agree to play video games with him, and even then he hadn't said much about why he was there and not at his own house. From what Archie could glean, apparently something had happened between Betty and her mom after she had left the community center, and she had rushed off to Veronica's.
He had texted both of them to see if everything was alright, but the girls had gone radio silent and neither had answered their phones.
Which is why Archie perked up when he heard the tell-tale sound of high heels clicking down the hallway toward them. He caught his football and looked up as his girlfriend entered the lounge, a large cup of coffee in one hand, her compact mirror open in the other.
Archie swung his feet to the floor, sitting up on the couch. "Ronnie, you look-,"
She snapped the mirror shut and stuck the hand it was in out toward Archie. "Don't finish what you were about to say." She sat down next to him, pushing Jughead's feet off the table as she placed her coffee down.
Wow, she was not having it today and it was only eight in the morning.
"You look great," Archie finished his sentence, looking over in time to see Jughead giving him an impish smirk. He was going to say she looked tired, like the rest of them, which meant she had more than likely stayed up most of the night.
Jughead straightened up in his chair and leaned forward, rocking an arm on his knee. "Is Betty okay? Why didn't you text me back?"
"Slow down, Sherlock." Veronica raised a finger, taking a swig of her coffee. "Questions one at a time. I'm still trying to detox from the many dinosaurs I had to watch last night."
Archie smiled and he could see the edge of Jughead's mouth curl as well. They both knew that Jurassic Park was Betty's favorite movie, even if she would never admit it out loud.
But, from Archie's memories of nights spent trying not to fall asleep until he had made sure Betty had, the roar of the T-Rex following him to his dreams, from a time when her anxiety was set off by normal things, this almost certainly meant that she had not had a good night.
Veronica looked pensively between the two boys, her finger toying with the tab on her coffee cup. "What happened last night?"
Jughead growled and slumped back into his chair. "Her mom basically tried to shanghai her into talking on the news. Live."
Veronica stared down at the table, her head slowly bobbing. "That… that makes sense now."
"Why, did Betty say something?" Archie lifted an eyebrow, grabbing Veronica's hand and leading it to his knee. Jughead leaned forward again, his elbow hooked over his knee as he placed a foot back on the coffee table.
Veronica's face might as well have been her answer as she breathed in. She passed her gaze over the rest of the students in the lounge before lowering her voice and leaning forward. "I'm not entirely sure this is mine to tell, but I think you both should know. Betty told me last night that Edgar took her back to Thornhill."
Archie's fingers curled into the football as he clutched it close to his chest, his blood running cold. He spun his head around the room too, feeling as though everyone was staring at them, but no one was. Everyone was tucked into their own pockets of the lounge, carrying on their own conversations.
His mind was flashing to what Jughead had said his dad had found in Pickens Park after Halloween. He had had his suspicions about what that had possibly been but, with this new information, he now almost certainly knew. Or at the very least, it painted a very unsettling picture as to what Edgar's intentions may have been.
Jughead let out an agitated huff, one hand on his mouth as the other gripped the edge of the armrest. "Great. He took her back to one of the worst nights of her life. That's just great." He growled again as his feet slammed to the floor. "And no doubt Penelope was involved in that."
"Do you think that's what we heard on the tape? Since Penelope had that?" Archie frantically looked between the two of them, his eyes landing back on Veronica as he grabbed her hand tighter.
They should have paid closer attention to the creep when he was in Riverdale. They all thought he had just been a con man but clearly he was obsessed with Betty.
Veronica shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Unfortunately, I still think that's something else."
Jughead sat quietly across from them, his hands laced in front of his face and his eyes on the floor. Archie slowly spun the ball in his hand, trying to swallow down the rising panic he felt.
The bell rang overhead and the three of them remained seated while the other students in the lounge shuffled around them, gathering their things as they prepared to head to class.
Eventually, Archie grabbed his bag from the floor and slowly rose, shoving his football inside before slinging it over his shoulder. Veronica grabbed her cup and followed. "Sorry to spring all of that on you before homeroom."
Jughead rocked himself out of the chair and slipped his messenger bag over his head. "No, it's okay. Thank you for letting us know. And thank you for letting her stay with you, I know it helps."
Veronica nodded and grabbed Archie's hand. He wrapped his fingers between hers as they began to walk out of the lounge. "And if there's one thing we can do to help her now, its make sure she has fun on Friday night."
Alice kicked the corner of the rug back into place, hoisting herself to her feet. Leaning the handle of the broom against the wall, she eyed the jumble of white and green shards sitting in the dustpan with a look of disdain and irritation, thinking to herself how nice it would be if all messes could be cleaned up this easily.
She began toward the kitchen as the front door creaked open, and she turned to see Charles walk into the house. He strolled down the hallway, his hands behind his back, his face an indecipherable read.
Alice sighed, walking the rest of the way to the kitchen. "If you're here to ream me out, I don't want to hear it. I already got it from one kid." She opened the cabinet door underneath the sink, pulling out the trash can.
"No, but If I had to guess, you can expect a call from an Agent Lance in the near future." Charles sauntered forward and leaned up against the fridge. "I'm actually here about the trial."
"Oh," Alice scoffed. "I don't want to hear about that either," she said decidedly, dumping the contents of the dustpan into the trash. Charles stepped further into the kitchen, leaning across the island with an upturned eyebrow, his eyes flicking between the trash and Alice.
She slammed the cabinet door shut, brushing off her hands. "I broke a vase."
"Aw, that was my favorite vase." Charles sent her a crooked grin.
Alice crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Alright, what did that weasel do now?"
Charles' grin leveled as he straightened up off the counter. He cocked his head, moving toward the dining room table. "Come on, let's sit down."
Alice scrunched her brow. That was never a good sign.
She stepped over to the table and pulled a chair out. Charles sat down across from her and clasped his hands together. Alice could see a slight shake to them, just as she had seen at the Andrews' house the previous day.
He cleared his throat. "We've gotten word that Edgar's legal team is pushing to have all of his charges tried at the same time instead of holding separate trials."
Alice grumbled, a hand immediately going to her temple. "Do you ever bring good news?"
"I work for the government so, generally, no." He gave Alice another crooked smile.
She had no idea where her children got their cutting sense of humor from.
"And if the appeal gets approved?" she asked, her bracelets rattling as she pulled her hand away from her forehead.
Charles' fingers twitched slightly and he took a deep breath. "Then the case gets moved to federal court instead of state."
Alice crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "So he wants an audience. He wants everything out of the shadows and into the light."
Charles remained quiet for a moment, any trace of humor wiping off of his face. "Isn't that what you tried to do?'
Alice glared at her son, her natural impulse wanting to take over, but she quickly softened her eyes. The horrible sense of irony had not been lost on her, and apparently not on him either. His contempt was not unfounded. After hearing Betty the previous evening, and watching the betrayal on her face play over and over behind her eyes throughout the night – she didn't need to try to evoke any kind of pity from her children.
"I know." Alice waved her hand in defeat. "I know, and now I probably made things worse for her." She brushed the hair away from her face, catching the look on Charles' face that told her he agreed with that statement.
She took another deep breath in, holding her head in her hands. Really, what had she been thinking? Her daughter was hurt and she knew it. And she had still wanted to exploit that to help her other daughter. How did that make sense?
Alice glanced at Charles, who was now absently staring around the room. And to top that off it seemed as though she had pissed off her FBI agent of a son. Her estranged son with whom her first contact since giving him away for adoption had been to infiltrate a cult.
And now he had to clean up the mess she had made.
She looked down, seeing that his hands were still giving off a small shake, and she frowned. "Do you regret being involved with everything here?" she asked in a sober voice.
Charles followed where Alice's eyes were and quickly removed his hands from the table, instead pulling them into his lap. "I would have been on this case regardless of if you had reached out to me or not."
That wasn't much of an answer.
"But after everything you've seen and been through, do you regret being involved?"
Charles sighed, dropping his head for a moment. "Alice, I'm an FBI agent, I knew what I was getting into when I took this job. What I didn't know though-," he slipped a hand back up from beneath the table and reached it out to Alice, "was that I would find what I had been looking for." He gave her a small half-smile.
"But I'm the reason you were looking for something in the first place." Alice ducked her gaze, avoiding eye contact with yet another child she felt she had failed.
Charles' eyebrow twitched but he shook it off and pulled both hands back on top of the table. The edge of his mouth curled into a tic, the trace of something long and carefully buried briefly taking hold.
"Is that why Betty is always getting herself involved in all these investigations?" She asked quietly. "Because she feels like she's looking for something too?"
"I can't answer that Alice, I really can't. You would need to ask her that yourself." Charles shook his head. "But if I can give you any advice – and as your son, not as a detective – there is something you can give her right now that I know she's been looking for."
His eyes shone as he looked directly at Alice. "Her mother."
Gray clouds hung over downtown as Betty walked out of Dr. Glass' office, the faint wintry whisperings of coming snow drifting through the cold, crisp air. She bounded down the remaining stone steps and away from the brownstone building, pulling her coat closer, counting down the days until she could officially take the sling off and not have to worry about freezing just to accommodate it.
She stared down the line of parking spots, looking for Smithers' black town car but instead found a certain boy in a beanie leaning up against one of the lampposts.
"Hey there, stranger." Jughead pushed himself off of the post. "Fancy seeing you 'round these parts."
He gave her a charming smile and she tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at him as she walked forward, though she couldn't help but smile as well. As she got closer however, his smile flattened into a delicate line. "Come here," he said softly, pulling her into a close hug.
They stayed there for a moment before Betty backed up. "I'm guessing Veronica told you about last night?" She asked as they began walking down the red brick sidewalk, their hands intertwined.
"Clever girl," he answered back.
Yep, he knew.
A small gust blew down the street and she turned her eyes to the sidewalk. She had seen the look of abject horror on Veronica's face last night when she had recounted her exploit, and she really didn't want to watch that become a rerun with Jughead.
Though her fears were quickly extinguished as he exhaled and looked at her. "While the information deeply disturbs me, you don't have to talk about it." He cocked his head back toward the brownstone. "I know you just did, and I know you will with us in your own time."
Betty peered up at him; she could see the concern in his eyes as his hand gripped hers a bit tighter. "It's just… we all had each other last time. God, I'm sorry you had to go through it again and alone. Are you okay?"
"Overall? No. At the moment? Yes." Betty gave him a reassuring smile. "I had a good session, and I have good friends."
Jughead shot her a slight side-eye, a fretfulness still pulsing behind his eyes, but he didn't say anything more. He simply gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, swinging his arm along with hers as they continued down the street.
A majority of the storefronts around them still had fall decorations up in their windows, dressed for Thanksgiving no doubt. There were even some corn stalks tied to the lamp posts and hay bales lined up in front of some of the shops, sporting festive cornucopias and gourds for the upcoming holiday.
Betty turned and glanced across the street, a small pang running through her as she gazed into the long plate-glass windows that framed the entrance to the Riverdale Register. She honestly hadn't thought about it much since Hiram had bought it the previous year, as she had the Blue & Gold and her mother had RIVW now, but after last night, she wondered if her mother would have tried something similar if all they still had was the family newspaper.
"You know-," Jughead's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "The Bijou is having a musical movie marathon this weekend." They stopped walking and Betty looked up, realizing they were passing under the shadow of the theater's marquee.
Jughead moved his hand out from hers and instead wrapped it around her waist. "What if we ditched the football game tomorrow and had a movie night instead?" The question was a white wisp in the air. "There won't be that many people, and it'll be warm and inside."
Betty looked at him warily. "But you hate musicals."
He smiled down at her. "But you don't."
A warm chill ran down her back and she scrunched a bit closer to him. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I actually want to go to the football game. After so much isolation, a public appearance could be nice." He narrowed his eyes and Betty grabbed his hand, resting it lightly against his chest, feeling the warmth beneath her touch. "Besides, this could be Archie's last high school game and I want to be there. You know, support those good friends I have."
Jughead sighed and looked down. "Okay. I guess sitting on freezing bleachers being surrounded by drunk high schoolers trying to do the wave while people beat each other up over a ball doesn't sound like such a bad way to spend a Friday night."
He sent Betty a goofy smirk and pushed forward, chuckling as he went to rustle her hair. Before she could fight back, the sound of a car door slamming sent them both looking toward the nearby row of parked cars. Smithers was scrambling onto the sidewalk in front of the town car, his hands folded together in front of him as he looked at Jughead and Betty repentantly.
He bowed his head. "Apologies for running late, Ms. Betty. I hope you weren't waiting long."
Betty and Jughead looked at each other, then Betty smiled at Smithers. "No, you're right on time."
Smithers nodded and paced ahead of them as they began to walk over to the car. "I'm guessing you're going to stay at Veronica's again?" Jughead asked.
She nodded. "I don't feel like facing my mom just yet."
Jughead nodded back. "I'll grab you a few things then. And I guess I'll go back to Archie's tonight." He planted another goofy grin on his face. "He can talk to me all about the sports ball before tomorrow."
Betty rolled her eyes, but then Jughead was suddenly speeding up, dashing ahead of her to open the car door. He held his hand out and bowed in a flourish. "Milady."
Betty blushed. She had never been a fan of the inflated song and dance that people seemed to automatically resort to when attempting to give their sympathies, and Jughead was one of the worst offenders along with his coddling, but at present, she was rather enjoying it.
She sank into the back seat, and as she went to close the door, a hand blocked it. Betty looked over as Jughead stooped down, leaning his arm up against the door, the serious look returning to his face.
He put his hand on her knee. "Hey, you'll be okay. We'll get through this together."
A soft tic pulled at the edge of Betty's mouth and she gave him a small nod. "Yeah, we will."
She just hoped that statement had sounded more encouraging to Jughead than it had sounded to her.
Alice peered through the living room window at the darkening sky outside, a dull mixture of incoming snow clouds and the early onset of a winter nightfall. She rubbed her arm, toying with her bracelets as she turned around on the couch, going back to the array of photographs scattered around the coffee table.
There were a variety of family portraits, holiday and vacation photos, pictures from scrapbooks, and even everyday moments blurrily captured at odd angles by disposable cameras, all of which were snapshots of memories of times gone by. Alice passed her hand tenderly over the pictures of two young blonde girls - of birthday parties and school plays, trick-or-treating and baseball games - and smiled to herself, lost in her own ache of longing.
She picked one up of a young Betty standing in front of a booth at the summer carnival that rolled into Riverdale every year, proudly showing off the orange and white striped stuffed cat she had just won. Alice chuckled softly to herself as she held the photo, memories of that day filling her mind, back to a time when her daughters still ran to her when they were scared or got hurt; when they still saw her as their mother and not as an enemy.
The front door clicked open and Alice bolted upright, hurrying into the foyer. "Betty?"
Her heart dropped once she saw who had actually walked in.
"I'm just grabbing a few of her things." Jughead stood rigidly in the foyer, staring deadpan back at Alice. "She's staying at Veronica's again."
Alice straightened up, shrugging her shoulders at his cold reproach. "Is she alright?"
"For now. No thanks to you." There was a bit more venom to his short response as he trailed toward the bottom of the stairs.
Alice frowned. She and Jughead had never particularly been each other's favorite person, and all of the recent events had probably only heightened things between them, but Alice knew that he loved Betty and tried to take care of her, and that was all she could ask of him.
Jughead began up the staircase and then paused mid-step, grabbing the railing as he slowly turned back, his eyes moving toward the photograph that Alice still held in her hands. He stared at it for a moment then peered around her into the living room, his eyes landing on the pile of pictures on the coffee table, before turning back to her.
He tapped the banister. "She never gave up on you once The Farm left, you know. I doubt she'll give up on you now."
With that, he spun around and disappeared upstairs, leaving Alice to stand alone in the foyer. She breathed slowly for a moment, curling the photo in her hand before walking back into the living room. She lowered herself onto the couch and stared down at the photos sitting silently in front of her.
Alice's hand shook and she let out a small cry, clutching the picture of that girl with the toothy smile close to her chest.
The discord of ringing telephone lines, and officers absorbed in papers and banter swirled around FP as he stood in the lobby of the police station, facing the door to the office that used to be his. At present, he felt an uncharacteristic amount of nerves, which he found odd considering he'd had guns and knives shoved in his face without so much as a flinch, much less a ball of tangled unease sitting in his chest.
But he swallowed it down and knocked on the door. A muffled "come in" responded and he walked into the room.
FP eyed the familiar office space. Everything looked the same as he had left it – the dusty light from the window that dappled the walls, the fern in the corner that always looked a little sad even when it was watered, and the map on the far wall with little pins in it related to evidence and open cases. The only thing that was different was the whiteboard; all of his notes from Betty's case had been wiped clean or taken down.
Though not taken far apparently, he noticed, reading the name on the thick file that was sitting on top of the desk. FP raised his head, his hands on his hips, and looked at the person standing behind the large wooden desk.
Then a small smile crept onto his face. "That uniform looks good on you, Deputy Sadler."
The woman behind the desk smiled back. "That's Sheriff Sadler now." She motioned a hand toward the chairs in front of FP. "Interim at least."
FP waved his hand in front of his face as he sat, crossing his leg on top of his knee. "I've already told the board I'm not coming back. You know why I left."
Sadler's face downturned, giving him a saddened grin as she lowered herself into the chair across from him. "I know, but we sure do miss you around here."
"I've only been gone a week," FP puffed. "And I suspect you didn't call me all the way down here just to say hello." He slanted his chin toward the file. "Is there something wrong with the report?"
"No, everything is in pristine order and organized very tightly." A man with slick black hair walked into the room, carrying his own armful of thick files, and kicked the door shut before sitting down next to FP. "Just how I like it."
"Ah, Quinton, so you're the one who called this meeting." FP shifted toward the SSA before looking toward Sadler, who nodded back, affirming his conjecture. Then his brow tightened and he dropped his leg, leaning forward. "Wait, is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong. Not yet, at least." Agent Kane loosely waved a hand as she shook his head. "But I want to be proactive heading into this trial, get ahead of any surprises that may pop up. That's why you're here, FP."
FP's eyes shifted between Kane and Sadler as they narrowed, his jaw clenching. The ball of unease in his stomach was constricting. "You want me back as an asset on a case I took myself off of?"
Kane leaned forward, cautiously holding his hands out in front of him. "And I understand why you did, I really do. But-," he moved the files from his lap onto the desk in front of him. "I also know how much this case means to you and I have a feeling you'd like to see it the whole way through. You were the one that brought her home, Jones."
"And I also brought a bunch of kids, including my own son, into a dangerous situation!" FP's voice pitched and he rubbed a hand over his hair, feeling his face flush.
Kane raised another hand in concession. "Evidence gathering, going through reports, tracking down any information that doesn't add up – that's all I'm asking. Fieldwork only if you want to."
FP rested a hand under his mouth, feeling his foot bouncing below him on the cold concrete. "And you don't have any agents who can do that?"
"Oh, I have plenty." Agent Kane shook his head, regarding FP with a serious stare, his face stoic. "But none who have that sinking feeling nagging at them, telling them that there's another shoe about to drop."
The two men stared at each other for a moment and FP aware of how heavy his breaths had become. He sank back in his chair, the wooden panels giving a doleful squeak. He glanced between Kane and Sadler before staring past the two of them, his fist tapping against the armrest.
Kane was right.
There had been a feeling gnawing away at his gut ever since the initial scavenger hunt with Chic, and it had remained even after they had found Betty. No, with everything that had already gone into this crime, he was afraid that a final act was inevitable.
Sadler placed her hand on top of the file in the same kind of manner as if she were handling something fragile. "We want to make sure we have anything and everything that will put this guy away. You know this case the best and you know this town the best. Now I know you said you aren't coming back-,"
"I'm not." FP quickly reminded her.
"And while some of us at the station disagree with that decision, we respect it." The curl of a frustrated smirk formed on Sadler's lips as she continued, "But FP, now that there's no present threat of danger, people are still calling into the hotline you set up and we're getting potentially new information. A jogger reporting a break-in at a mausoleum last month, a bodega owner in the Southside claiming he saw Edgar, a landscaper not showing up to work."
FP and Kane both raised an eyebrow at that last one.
Sadler shook her head and flapped her hand. "Yeah, some people might not know what they are calling into, but the point is, we need someone who knows the town well enough to sift through it all and fill in any pieces that may be missing."
FP's eyes continued to dart between Sadler and Kane. Both were giving him expectant looks. He shuffled his feet, straightening up and giving a small huff.
"You know, I do potentially have another job offer already lined up…"
"And this won't interfere with that," Kane assured. "This will only be through the trial, and only as needed. Again, you don't have to go into the field unless you want to. Think of it as glorified desk duty."
FP tapped the armrest again and turned his head, staring back at the whiteboard. The faint marker streaks from his notes of Betty's anagram were just visible under the fluorescent lights in the office.
Maybe this was a second chance he didn't know he needed, redemption for all of the things he had missed in Betty's case when it mattered. Maybe she had left other clues along the way that he could find that would help tell her story before he decided if he should be responsible for helping other kids tell theirs'.
A warm ripple suddenly passed through him as he stared at the whiteboard, and he clasped his hands together. Propping his elbows up on the armrests of the chair, he turned back toward Sheriff Sadler and Agent Kane.
For perhaps the first time, FP understood why Jughead chased this feeling so much.
A/N:
And here we go! One other bright side to me losing my document was that I was already halfway through writing the next chapter (and that one was saved!), so hopefully it shouldn't be too long until that one is done!
As always, let me know what you think and drop a review. They are so incredibly helpful and encouraging, knowing you are all still reading and enjoying this little fic that could.
Have a good weekend!