Another chapter! Fair warning: February is absolutely kicking my butt, and March looks like the lion it is reported to be. I'll still be writing (stress brings me back again and again to writing! :), but the usualy warnings about being slow/delayed in posts for that time. Thank you for your patience!
Thank you also for your generous and kind reviews! They were such an encouragement.
Leafgreene01, killing Brand so early on would feel like a fake out to me, but yeah... there is a level at which nobody is completely safe from character death. Thanks for that cheery reminder! :-D Thank you so much for the lovely compliment, too. I can't think of a higher one for a writer; I love that you're connecting with Veronica!
Thank you Natureliesbeneath - I love that you enjoyed the bonding moments and how everyone's got some good patterns for a change(!) and that even Max is starting to have people look after him. I'm excited to hear how Kevin meshes with everyone, particularly with his Joaquin stuff in the background and how complex that makes his relationship with, oh, everyone. :) Jughead as cricket (smaller than a grasshopper!) is a great visual, and I completely agree that they're moving awfully quickly - and Jughead always has the impulse to push even harder than Brand and FP encourage (which is usually way more than Fred, just to choose a random example, would!). You are more than welcome, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
Skyrider45, I never mind late and I always really appreciate your notes. Thank you! And yay for it still being pre-pandemic (maybe? What is time, anyway?) in the story, lol. You have joined some excellent teams, and I'm eager to see how those arcs play out - and how Veronica resolves her inner turmoil with the band. I laughed at the idea of Brand just pushing Jughead off a cliff because he knew it wasn't dangerous. FP would have been the danger then. :-D Yay for the tour approaching, too. I'm really eager for it, but getting everything just so beforehand is taking a little doing. We will get there! And it will be worth it! (I hope!) :)
Woodscolt215, that is amazing to hear that you'll keep reading. That is going to guarantee that I keep writing! I'm also loving those dynamics in particular; FP is getting some growth, and Sweet Pea is clearly on track to get to do some fun things as well. I'm so glad you enjoyed that line from Brand as well, and I will be thinking about that bobsled image as I write. I'll do my best to live up to it! (maybe even nudge us into skeleton territory? That's the one that scares me!)
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
"Veronica's mom pulled it off. She must have really good dirt on Mrs. Cooper."
Archie did something with his controller that made the split screen whirl dizzyingly.
"That's not funny," Fred Andrews snapped at Archie, who was chuckling over his own joke. The screen settled back down and he could see once again what his avatar was doing in the game. This was as close to football as Fred would be getting for quite some time. "Alice Cooper is going through a divorce. That is extremely serious – life-changing –, and she doesn't need anyone making things worse for her."
Archie stared at his dad as if he'd lost his mind. Somehow, unfairly, this did not in any way affect his character's performance in the game. "What in the world are you talking about? I only meant I'm surprised that Betty's allowed to go on the tour with us. I wasn't going to say anything to anyone else. And I didn't think you'd start crazy rumors or anything."
"Even so. This is how things get started," Fred said, though even to his own ears he sounded petulant. It was possible he sounded defensive, in fact; he knew as well as anyone that Archie might have hit the nail on the head with his guess about Hermione Lodge's methods. The idea left a bad taste in his mouth, particularly coming relatively soon after he'd turned down Alice's request for him to be a character witness for her in the impending custody battle.
What a mess all of that was turning into.
"Ma-aybe. I guess." Archie looked away from both Fred and the game for a moment, and it looked like he was reflecting on something specific. "I mean, it's not like I don't have some experience with rumors."
Well. Fred had to admit that was the case; quite a few rumors now swirled around Archie and the band, and it was nice to hear that was teaching his son some empathy on the topic.
"Jughead can't even use his own name to go on tour with us, or else-," Archie awkwardly mimed his head exploding, controller and all, "-chaos."
Fred frowned, giving Archie a look and trying to decide if what he was witnessing was empathy after all – or just a case of rubbernecking by a teenager who was enjoying the spectacle of complicated drama affecting his friend.
"My band has its crap to deal with, but nothing that competes with what Jug's got going on," Archie continued, and once again he was looking away from Fred as if something specific was on his mind. "Even the chatter on the tour app has gotten a little weird and I've had to shut it down more than once. You'd think they would realize he's my best friend and it's never going to be cool with me."
Well, that sounded less troubling. Maybe Archie was being humble. Maybe he was acknowledging that the real drama in Riverdale had very little to do with him or his band, and recognizing the difference in scale between managing professional rumors due to commercial success – and the unasked-for, sometimes vicious coverage that followed Jughead around.
It might even be a sensitive move to compare Alice Cooper's situation to Jughead's and not to the band's as well, since that would also be unasked-for… and quite likely vicious.
And okay, Fred could admit the truth, if only to himself: it was already happening to Alice Cooper and it was already vicious. Saying that anyone had 'asked for it' when it came to rumors like those would be both cruel and untrue, but Alice had certainly positioned herself for a steep fall. Now it had seemingly come.
For that reason and, no doubt, many other reasons that had nothing to do with the Coopers, the people of Riverdale were not being kind.
Fred would not take that out on Archie.
The silence continued. Fred strategically allowed it to lengthen, hoping that whatever was on Archie's mind would come out of his mouth sooner or later.
It wasn't a sure thing, but it worked more often than it didn't.
"Dad," Archie spoke again, thoughtfully, and Fred had to hide a smile of triumph. "Who's rooming with Jughead while we're on tour?"
Fred had to school his expression, since this was a far cry from what he'd expected the issue to be.
"I don't know. I imagine he'll be rooming with Brand, or maybe with FP. Or both." Fred would be attending a number of the concerts, but traveling with the band had been out of the question once he'd realized the taxing demands of his PT regimen and the limits of his recovery.
Fred took a stab at what Archie's worry might be about: "You won't be alone."
"Yeah, that's not what I'm-," Archie waved a hand vaguely. "I just… I know that a whole bunch of work stuff is going on with FP and Brand. And the last time things got weird with them… Well, maybe not the last time, but one of the times, Jug and I roomed together. In New York. And-,"
Oh.
Fred drew his eyebrows together and chose his words carefully. "Do you mean when you discovered that Jughead was training with Brand… to the point of injury?"
That was an understatement; Jughead's entire torso had been black and blue.
Archie had been horrified; FP had been murderous and clearly taken by surprise; Fred had made a point of cornering FP the next day and confronting him about the fact that Jughead was a minor and – particularly under the complex circumstances – helpless to protect himself against psychological or physical abuse from Davies.
The fact that FP had needed to be told that was a troubling fact that Fred had reflected on fairly recently – within the last month –, but that worry had lasted only until Jughead had stayed with them and confided at length in Fred… and that worry was counterintuitively completely gone now.
It had been gone ever since Jughead had shown up on Fred's doorstep as Tall Boy's prisoner.
Somehow that experience must have shocked Fred into seeing a whole lot from Jughead's perspective – from Brand's perspective as well, and from FP's – and the idea that Jughead might get a little banged up or bruised during training, in order to be better prepared for danger… Well, it seemed less troubling now that Fred had been shot and Jughead had almost been killed right in front of him.
Although come to think of it, Fred wasn't sure why it was any less troubling. Maybe it shouldn't be. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to merit consideration.
Serious consideration.
Archie was watching Fred closely, so something must have been showing on his face.
"Actually, what I meant is when I discovered that Brand hadn't stopped beating Jug." Archie's tone was as challenging as his words were harsh. "And you know, I get it; there's a whole story there, and lots of reasons why all of that happened. But you can't tell me Brand doesn't like training 'to the point of injury.'"
Archie's voice was filled with disdain when he echoed his father's phrase.
It didn't sound so great to Fred, either, when Archie repeated it back to him. It sounded weaselly.
"I… didn't know you felt this way. In fact," Fred tried to keep his tone and words neutral, since this felt like a minefield and more than anything he didn't want Archie to shut the conversation down before he was completely sure what they were talking about, "you seemed to be, well, won over by Brand. A lot of things have happened since then. He's been there for you – for all of us. I was under the impression that he'd earned your trust."
"I trust him about as far as I can throw him," Archie said darkly, but then he sighed and his features relaxed somewhat. "No, you're right about all that; I do trust Brand, at least most of the time… and, yeah, okay, he's been helpful. It's just something that Jughead said. It got me thinking about the tour, and-,"
Fred was suddenly on high alert, and it had nothing to do with the fraught conversation he was having with Archie. "Oh? What did Jughead say?"
"Do I have your interest now?" Archie's voice was light and teasing, but the words hit Fred hard.
Mary had been chiding him about Fred seeming to be more attuned to Jughead than to his son, and even a teasing suggestion coming from Archie was an unpleasant hint that Mary might be onto something real and potentially problematic.
"Well, yes. Instincts can be important to explore, but not usually worth worrying too much over." Fred tried to explain his reaction in a way that did not sound like he prioritized one boy over the other. "So… Jughead said something about Brand, or about being hurt?"
"Jug said FP's been keeping an eye on both him and Brand and making sure they don't get hurt… and that he and Brand have banded together to rebel against FP sometimes." Archie shot his father a sheepish look. "I mean, that doesn't sound like anything, really, but-,"
"What's got to be going on if FP's the voice of reason?" Fred was rueful; he could see Archie's point. "And what are Jughead and Brand banding together over? Are they keeping secrets, and if so – why?"
For some reason instead of looking happy that Fred agreed, Archie looked annoyed.
"Sorry." Fred abruptly realized that he'd interrupted his son more than once in this conversation. Maybe more than twice. "You were saying?"
"No, that's it. That's all I was saying. I don't want to start any rumors." Archie's tone was clipped and he gave his dad a smirk, but then he became serious once more. "I guess I thought that Jughead rooming with me would give me a chance to get him alone for at least a little time every day. I'd be able to make sure that things are okay."
Fred frowned. He understood why this was weighing on Archie.
Unexpectedly, though, Archie began to laugh.
Fred waited a beat before answering in order to be sure he would not interrupt again. "Uh… why is that funny?"
Archie shook his head, continuing to chuckle. "Wow. I should have said this out loud sooner. Man, I'm paranoid. It's not like Jug and I don't talk literally every day. I've lost it; I feel like I need to confirm that nobody in my life is, like, secretly a hostage or something." Archie grimaced as he thought about that for a moment. "I'm being paranoid with Veronica for sure; she's already complained about it."
"Oh?" Fred was relieved at the introduction of this new topic; that sounded a whole lot more like the conversation a father and son would be having, and Archie's explanation was a reassuring one that made a whole lot of psychological sense.
And that was why Fred was relieved, he told himself firmly; because Archie was sharing these thoughts, these feelings, and talking about how they were affecting his relationships.
The relief was not solely – not even primarily – because Archie had set Fred's mind at ease about Jughead's comment being innocuous.
And even if that had been the reason Fred felt relieved, that would be normal, right?
Fred tried not to do anything to betray his internal turmoil to his son, but honestly it was getting frustratingly confusing. When it came to Archie's patently teenaged concerns versus a threat of actual harm to Jughead, what was Fred supposed to be more concerned about?
Argh.
Fred tuned back in to what Archie was telling him, resolving to be fully present with his son for the duration of their conversation.
He'd be chatting with Jughead the following day, anyway, and then Fred could judge for himself whether there was any evidence to suggest problems arising between the teen and the rest of the wold pack.
"You have told Veronica who you hired, right?" Archie was saying. His tone held just enough of an edge to suggest that he did not think Fred had told her.
And dang it, he was right. Not that it was Fred's fault. "Veronica has not returned my calls yet."
Archie sighed and ran a hand over his face as if he were the frustrated parent in this exchange. "You need to tell her soon."
Well, yes. For more reasons than interpersonal ones, too.
"I will." Fred gave his son a measured look, though, because Archie needed to accept this reality as well. "As soon as she calls me back."
Archie met his father's eyes and nodded reluctantly. "That's fair. And she will, soon. Veronica's a professional."
Only she wasn't. And that was the problem.
Neither of them spoke those words, though.
"What do you want for dinner?" Fred asked brightly after enough time had passed for the change in subject to feel natural.
"Smooth, Dad."
Well, almost enough time had passed for it to feel natural.
Fred tried again. "Seriously. Want to break out the grill once we finish the game? Have a little winter cookout?"
Archie lit up; this was already more enthusiasm than he'd shown for cooking with Fred in a while. "Are you up for that?"
His injured leg was not going to be the reason Fred missed out on cooking with his son. He smiled reassuringly. "Absolutely."
FP had some unusual phrases he used to describe intensive bonding time spent with Jughead, ranging from 'boot camp' to 'Jughead Jail.' He'd had more than one occasion to use those phrases, too; it was something FP had done with Jughead more than once since the spring.
Fred was not about to miss his chance to do the same thing with his own son. After all, the tour was coming up quickly for everyone.
In a surge of competitive spirit, Fred did not want to be left out – even though he was about to be left behind.
00000
FP picked up his phone again.
Brandon swiped out a hand, and FP narrowly avoided losing his phone to the younger man.
"Don't call."
"Brandon, we've been searching for almost half an hour." FP wasn't sure he was worried about an emergency, exactly, but he was beginning to get mightily annoyed over the fact that there likely was not an emergency. That alone made him more inclined to make the call.
"Well, there you go. Besides, I think we have to wait at least twenty-four hours." Brandon smirked.
That alone was enough to have FP raising the phone again, though this time he was completely aware that he meant it as a threat to Brandon and not in any way an indication that FP thought calling was a better move than he'd thought a moment ago.
"FP, he left us a note, bizarre and cryptic as it is. And he was asking me last night why I'd never taught him any of this, and-,"
Brandon caught sight of FP's expression and shut up.
FP spoke slowly, carefully: "Jughead asked you what, exactly?"
"FP, take it for what it's worth: I don't think we have anything to worry about." Brandon had a look in his eye that FP recognized, though, and it had more to do with self preservation than with logic. "Honestly, I'm just impressed that-,"
"You're impressed?" FP took a perverse pleasure in seeing the self preservation look intensify as Brandon adjusted his stance slightly – defensively – in the small space within the tour bus.
That was also proof positive for FP: he was not actually worried about his son either. If FP had even the slightest suspicion that Jughead was in danger, there was no way he would be taking the time – not to mention expending valuable energy – antagonizing his best resource for helping him to resolve the crisis.
Which meant that, barring the possibility that both men's instincts were wildly off, there was only one scenario they could possibly be dealing with.
"The game is afoot," FP finally admitted heavily, his eyes narrowed. "So stop being impressed and start figuring it out. First off, where are the dogs?"
Brandon looked startled, maybe even whiplashed, by the abrupt turn in the conversation. Then he began to smirk once again. "That's what I was trying to say; I'm impressed that he did something with the dogs. And he wonders why I never taught him. Ha."
FP silenced that line of conversation with a sharp glance. There were a lot of reasons why Brandon had not taught Jughead how to hide, how to evade pursuers, and how to elude capture. Every last one of those reasons was unsavory.
Brandon's reasons had also resulted in a conspicuous gap in Jughead's knowledge that had nearly led to him being killed.
All of that was why FP had come up with a very simple goal for Jughead's training while they were recovering in the state park:
Teaching Jughead how to win a game of hide and seek.
They'd needed to achieve that without it turning into a game of chase, of course, since Jughead was struggling to improve his stamina for even walking any distance. The boy seemed entirely incapable of preventing himself from running when the hunt got a little too close to his hiding spots.
Brandon had been curing him of that, though, with his inimitable teaching methods; he'd stopped just short of brutality whenever Jughead attempted to run, and as a result Jug was finally getting to the point where he could override those instincts (albeit with considerable difficulty), and he'd been far more successful at disappearing.
The adults had been pleased.
Only now, this.
They'd awoken to find Jughead and both of his dogs missing from the tour bus. Every scrap of his winter gear was missing, too, which indicated either that he had left of his own free will (taking advantage of the fact that his godfather was on painkillers that made him groggy, and that FP usually slept as though he had taken something similar), or else he had been kidnapped by someone who was very concerned with proper winter attire. And had taken both of the dogs.
Thankfully he'd left them a note, though it was too cryptic to be of much help. It simply read: "Ready or not."
The more FP considered the facts, the more obvious it became why his instincts had been steadily gaining traction against his initial panic impulse upon discovering that Jughead was gone.
As for Brandon, he seemed to understand the meaning behind FP's 'don't go there' expression, but as usual that only slowed him down for a matter of seconds. "You see why I don't want you to call security. We'd automatically lose."
Ah, yes. Because that was the biggest concern they had in this situation: losing a made-up game that a teenager was most likely inventing rules for on the fly.
Only, FP had to admit upon further reflection, that might actually be the case: that might indeed be their biggest concern, given the mounting evidence that Jughead had planned his escape and left the bus under his own power.
"Is there snow on the ground?" FP asked. There had been a few light snowfalls since they'd arrived in the park, and that would make their job fairly simple.
"Nope." Brandon did not need to look outside before answering, so he must have already thought of that. "I bet the kid waited for just the right conditions before pulling this."
Hmmm. If that were the case, then FP needed to give this some thought. A carefully premeditated plan was completely different from the improvised hiding games they'd been using to hone Jughead's skills and instincts.
They'd need a different approach to track him down this time.
"Where's that map you've been marking up?" FP demanded. That might come in handy.
"Ah, now you're getting into it," Brandon observed with far too much satisfaction.
Not that Davies was wrong. He was just too darn satisfied about the fact that he was correct.
"Let's take a look around the bus, too," FP directed firmly. "If it was still dark when he left, Jughead might have left signs without realizing it."
"By all means." Brandon gestured for FP to get his coat. "After you."
FP ignored Brandon's teasing and led the way out of the tour bus.
There was not a single indication of which direction Jughead might have chosen.
"Uh, also, just so you know…"
This was not in any way a promising lead-in from Davies. FP braced himself.
"...the last time Jones disappeared from the bunk above me? He, um, did leave under his own steam. But then he was picked up." Brandon seemed aware that he was presenting a suspiciously spare account of events. He shrugged uncomfortably before he continued. "That was the night before I met you."
Oh, that. FP turned to face Brandon and grant him the full weight of his glare.
"The night before you met me? If memory serves," FP drew the words out for emphasis, "that was the night he was tortured by two different people."
"Only one was ruled torture. In a court of law. Officially, anyway."
Their eyes met.
Brandon took a swift step away, so FP's murderous look must be doing its job.
"But yeah, I see your point. Which was my point as well, for the record," Davies added. "I just thought I'd let you know. Jones has been acting a little weird and I'm not convinced he isn't having flashbacks."
Flashbacks. Great. It was awfully big of Brandon to share that with the class now, too, when it had presumably been a concern ever since they'd arrived in the park.
Maybe this 'game' had more layers to it than FP had been willing to consider, even if it was just an invented training challenge. Maybe FP should have considered all of that before introducing it. And now that Jughead was missing, who knew what that might manifest as - particularly given his instinct to flee when discovered or pursued.
That would not complicate things at all, FP thought to himself wryly. Not one bit.
"If he's hiding symptoms then we need to find him now. Let's get the map," FP said decisively, motioning for them to go back into the bus. At least that would be a start.
00000
"Why was I called?" Agent Sarah Quinn demanded, clearly in a hurry to address whatever she'd been summoned for and then leave.
And no wonder; she was so busy that there were practically road rage incidents in the hallways now when people got in her way.
Agent Quinn's tension was understandably high, too; she was front and center for just about everything that was going wrong right now – the Southside issues, the unknown threat against Special Agent Davies, the placements of both Joaquin DeSantos and Max, and she had been officially called in to consult on the issues facing the local child protection agencies and foster care specialists as they were overwhelmed by about five years' worth of placements being needed immediately.
Something had to be done – soon – or else Quinn was going to just plain burn out.
"Because you know the key players," Paul Sherman, a typically-competent agent, replied. He made it sound as though this were an obvious conclusion, and a logical step to take: interrupting the busiest, most harried FBI agent in the entire region instead of, you know, thinking for two minutes… or maybe even doing a little information-gathering for himself.
"And?" Quinn's tone was like ice. It seemed like she was on precisely that same wavelength.
"And we figured you might know what's going on. You lived there, so maybe you can explain-,"
Quinn cleared her throat, interrupting Agent Sherman and marking a preamble to what would no doubt be a searing riposte.
The riposte would take time out of her busy day, though. It would be time that she did not have, which might result in her getting even less sleep than she had already complained about being forced to function on. That might mean costly mistakes.
People might die.
It felt urgent. It felt important.
That's why Clark spoke up, even though he was not in anything resembling a better position in terms of his own commitments and time management.
"Uh, Agent Sherman, I might have some insights. Actually." Clark straightened up in his chair when all eyes in the room landed on him. "I lived there as well. Not in the, um, same capacity. But I'm happy to help however I'm able."
Agent Sherman's eyes narrowed critically. His mouth opened, and it did not look like whatever he was about to say would be kind or encouraging.
Clark felt an instant surge of regret; he had to stop himself from shrinking back in his chair under Sherman's withering gaze.
"Really? That would be great, Clark. Thank you." Quinn bestowed a grateful smile on him and then addressed the room brusquely: "You listen to Clark. He knows what he's talking about."
And, just like that, it was completely worth any trouble that might follow.
Clark smiled back at Sarah, any and all regret washed away by a tide of newfound confidence.
But even that level of confidence could not delude Clark into believing that trouble would not follow. Likely soon.
As Agent Quinn disappeared, off to respond to the insistent calls of duty that were not giving her phone a moment's rest, Clark braced himself for the trouble to begin.
And he was not disappointed.
Not even a little.
00000
"I can go?" Betty was shocked; this seemed far too easy, and perhaps too good to be true.
"Yes. I have given it a lot of thought, and after Hermione's visit I have more information about the arrangements and itinerary," Alice Cooper said archly. "I think it would be good for you to go."
"Well… thanks." Betty was torn between wanting to know what had changed her mother's mind and just taking the win and running away before Alice had the chance to rethink.
"You're welcome." Alice remained cool for a moment longer, but then she sighed and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. She motioned for Betty to sit across from her. "Elizabeth, there is another reason that I'm letting you go."
Betty couldn't help but think 'danger, Will Robinson,' but she sat down anyway and waited nervously for her mother to continue.
"Your father and I are working through a lot of issues. A lot of arrangements."
Apparently the word 'custody' was not coming to mind easily, Betty thought but did not say.
"I don't like that you've had to bear witness to as much as you have," Alice continued uncomfortably. "These are things that parents should deal with. You shouldn't have to worry about it, let alone overhear any of it."
Surprisingly, Betty found herself nodding encouragingly. After the amount of resentment she'd felt building in herself over the past several weeks, it was almost a shock to feel it dissipate so immediately as her mother said, well, not even 'all the right things.' Just something decent and human.
"I hope this turns out to be a good break for you. I also hope this provides enough time for your father and I to reach a better modus vivendi." Alice looked away as if embarrassed to say the words aloud.
"I'd… like that," Betty said cautiously.
"Good." Alice smiled tentatively and Betty returned the smile.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Betty asked almost reflexively, wondering as the words left her whether she'd regret them immediately – or later. She had to bite her lip to hide a dark smile over her own pessimism.
"Yes. You can have fun, and you can stay out of trouble." Alice smiled ruefully, apparently hearing how that had sounded. "Not in that order."
Betty's smile widened appreciatively. "Noted."
"And Betty, I want you to know that both your father and I love you very much. That isn't going to change."
Oh. Now her mother was saying all the right things. Betty felt tears spring unexpectedly to her eyes, even though this was not news – not really –, and it wasn't even particularly original wording.
When Alice opened her arms, Betty fell into them gratefully.
It had been too long since she'd felt this way with her mother. It had been too long since she'd felt mothered.
00000
Brand was trying to focus on the map and tune out FP's grunts of displeasure as the man took in what he should have already known: this was a big park, and it was surprisingly accessible in every direction now that Jones was walking decently once more. The radius they considered around the bus probably didn't need to be too big, since the kid wasn't walking far at this point in his recovery process, but it certainly extended in every direction.
"There are hazards in every direction," FP finally said. "He could be at the bottom of a cliff right now."
"Cliff? That might be an overstate-," Brand stopped short; FP was definitely going to start a lecture if he finished that sentence. True though it may be, FP probably just meant any drop that had the potential to maim or kill the kid.
And he was right; there were plenty of those.
Brand was far less worried about that, though. "He learned his lesson with the waterfall."
"I hope so."
FP Jones, ray of sunshine. Brand did not respond, though; they had enough to deal with at the moment.
There was a sound outside; both men froze, looking at each other for a moment and then hurrying to peer out a window.
"Cars?" Brand was worried now; it seemed likely that they'd have received a phone call – unless reception was bad at the tour bus today for some reason – if anything bad had befallen the kid.
Or maybe their security was pulling up outside because that was the quickest way to bring them up to speed on some new disaster.
A car door opened and a lanky man with shoulder-length hair stepped out. Three other men followed.
FP reached for the tour bus door.
"Stop. That's not our security," Brand blurted before FP could open the door. "At least, I don't recognize any of them, which means this could be anything. Let's take a beat."
FP nodded, taking a step back from the door.
"I'll go outside and get a bead on them. We won't let 'em know that you're here." Brand's mind was running swiftly through one possibility after another. "I've got a handgun under my bunk; it's loaded."
FP didn't even roll his eyes. Brand appreciated that.
Only then FP motioned Brand back toward the bunk instead of going there himself. "If anyone's gonna go talk to a group of strangers who somehow found us out here in the woods, it's not going to be the one with a limp. Anyone looking for trouble will be far more likely to try something if we show them weakness."
"Well, I'd like the element of surprise to involve the one with no limp," Brand countered.
FP did roll his eyes then. "Between deterring a fight and winning a fight you'd prefer-,"
"I see us potentially losing a fight or potentially winning a fight," Brand corrected. "We have to assume the worst case scenario. We've got security to specifically prevent this sort of thing – who are nowhere to be seen –, and someone just rolled up to our doorstep with no warning."
FP made a face at that, and Brand guessed what he was thinking.
"Maybe the security detail is with the kid because he's run into trouble. We'll figure that out later. For now, we deal with what's outside," Brand directed. "Get the gun. And may God help them if they know a blessed thing about Jones disappearing from his bed."
Heaving a deep, resigned sigh that probably stood in for a second eye roll, FP headed toward Brand's bunk. Good.
Brand turned toward the door and prepared himself to hide his slowly healing injuries with everything he had in him.
00000
"You're doing what?" Agent Williams snort-laughed. "Sign me up. How do I help?"
Jughead shrugged. "I guess just don't bust me for a few hours. I am ninety-five percent sure they won't want anyone in the security detail to know that I'm successfully hiding from them, so it's the perfect place to hole up until they cry uncle."
"Not to mention…" Chloe motioned to the spread of takeout in the dining area of the camper that had been assigned to the security detail for the duration of their time spent working in the state park. "The perks?"
"There are perks." Jughead grinned and fed Never a sliver of steak from one of the carryout containers. "Per diem seems great."
Chloe made a noncommittal noise. "Where's your phone?"
"Back in the tour bus." Jughead was still grinning.
"Well, this will be payback for the paperwork I had to fill out over that accelerated erosion incident. At least we're insured up to our eyeballs, but I wouldn't mind passing along a little of the hassle I had to deal with," Williams mused with more than a little satisfaction.
"Uh, we're in trouble for that?" Jughead's smile faded.
"No. Well, only a little, and mostly with me; nobody else was affected. Honestly, that ledge was going to go sooner or later so the state got off easy with it being you two who brought it down." Williams had one eyebrow raised, but she seemed amused. "Pierce saw the whole thing but was too far away to do anything to help. He's impressed."
"Brand is a fast thinker," Jughead agreed.
"Not quite. Pierce is impressed by how stupid you two were," Chloe amended with a chuckle, and Jughed ducked his head. "But yeah, he said Davies looked like he was defying physics. FP can move pretty quickly when he wants to, too."
"Yeah. They both try to stay sharp."
Williams studied Jughead silently for a few seconds. "Is it hard living with them?"
Jughead felt his shoulders tense. Not more of these insinuations again. "I'm not running away from Dad or Brand. I'm only trying to prove a point. I figured it was high time I got a turn at designing a training exercise."
Williams looked confused. "But you are running away from them. Literally."
"Nobody did anything wrong. Nobody's treating me badly," Jughead said more insistently. "Look, if my coming here is going to cause problems, I can-,"
"Oh!" Chloe's expression cleared and she guffawed once. "You actually thought – ha, yeah, no – believe it or not, I don't think that an FBI agent and an FBI asset are abusing our FBI intern."
"Former intern," Jughead said quietly.
"Eh, once an intern, always an intern," Chloe said with a smile. Then she grimaced. "Actually, forget I said that. That sounds like a fate worse than death."
That made Jughead smile.
"I was asking if it's hard being you in a house with them." Agent Williams motioned at Jughead as if that would clarify what she meant.
Jughead was almost completely sure that was not a compliment to him, but it didn't sound complimentary to his father or Brand either. "Do you mean because we… don't seem to have a lot of interests in common?"
"No. But it's nice that you think that's what I mean." Williams waited expectantly, as if there was any possible way to respond coherently to whatever it was she was asking.
"Uh, well, we do have a lot of interests in common," Jughead said. "And I try to keep up with them. The surgery I just had should help."
Chloe nodded thoughtfully. "I like your confidence."
Jughead shrugged; he really wasn't sure what she was getting at, so that seemed like the safest approach.
"Well, you'll eventually grow into whatever genes FP's given you, and you'll presumably reach something approximating brain maturity, and then they'll have to watch out." Williams smiled. "Everybody will."
Now that sounded like a compliment. Sort of. Jughead smiled but didn't try to respond.
"Of course," Williams suddenly sounded introspective, "maybe I'm seeing some of that happen in real time."
Jughead's grin returned and he shrugged once more – but this time it was self-deprecating and not in confusion. Apparently even Agent Williams could see that he was growing up.
Turning the training around on FP and Brand had been a bold move, and maybe even a risky one. But Jughead was becoming more sure of himself now; this had been a great idea.
00000
Brand strode out of the tour bus and approached the group of men - and one woman.
"How are you liking the place?" The first man, the one with shoulder-length hair, called out. "I can't say we miss the bus, but we had a lot of good times in 'er."
Ah. It must be the band, Breaking Fast.
Brand had to take a moment to absorb the implications of their unexpected appearance. They were most definitely not supposed to be here.
It was extremely fortuitous that Jones was not here at this moment. In fact, things would probably go more smoothly if they didn't get a good look at FP either.
Brand did recall the questions that Mary and Fred Andrews had come up with on the call with them, though, and this seemed like a fine time to get at least some information if he was able.
"Can I help you?" Playing dumb was typically a smart gambit for getting the other party to spill information first.
Another useful tactic was making things awkward with long silences.
"You're Brandon freaking Davies!" Another luminary of the musical world called out from where he was rounding the car and headed toward Brand at an alarming speed. He opened his arms as if for a–
"Oof, wow, you're jacked." The rail-thin band member held Brand in the aggressive hug for a moment too long.
He would not make that mistake twice if Brand had anything to say about it.
Brand spun the musician around and twisted his arm in a potent warning before shoving him back toward the rest of the band.
There was an awkward silence after that; tactic successfully deployed.
Only then… the band began to applaud.
Brand blinked at them, scowling fiercely. Their reaction was entirely unexpected, which was not reassuring. He'd just wait for them to explain themselves so that nothing else came up that was unexpected.
"You are perfect, man."
"Are you sure you don't have any FBI buddies we can tempt into coming along? Our budget's gotten bigger since we last talked."
"You appear in music videos too, right? I think I read that somewhere. We can discuss fees, but you should think about it; we could use you."
Brand stared them down, maintaining his silence. The band members seemed to be under the impression that he recognized them, and to be fair he would have recognized them had they met when he'd expected; he had planned to look them up and learn about each member of the band, just as soon as he'd finished boning up on vital facts about members of the crew.
The band had seemed like less of a security concern than, well, anyone else on the tour – and they were also the people with whom Brand expected to have the least interaction.
In fact, he'd been planning to avoid them like the plague, and he'd expected to be aided by the fact that the tour would maintain a brutal pace for the duration of Archie's band's involvement.
The first member who had spoken took over the conversation again. "We'll get to all of that, sorry. You are just… well, you are every bit as impressive in person as you are in the interviews we saw; that is amazing."
Brand did not even twitch; he'd give them 'awkward' in spades. Although they seemed to be eating it up as if he were playing the part of an over-the-top strong, silent enforcer. It was getting the job done, in any event, but it might cause issues down the line.
"Is there any chance we could go somewhere, sit down, and talk?" The band member suddenly seemed a whole lot more professional as he transitioned from first impressions to whatever had led them to take time – as a group – away from their busy schedules to come out to a state park in the middle of winter.
They were successful; it made sense that whatever their artistic personas involved were accompanied by shrewd business acumen and professionalism.
Brand could relate. He nodded once, shortly, but led them away from the bus. "I like the fresh air. There's a picnic table over here."
The band members exchanged looks. It wasn't particularly windy with the trees to block the worst of it, but it was cold. Brand had enough of his winter gear on, since he'd anticipated following Jones on a merry chase.
Besides, it would add to whatever mystique he apparently had, and that might work to his advantage.
After a brief hesitation, all of the band made their way to the wooden table and swiped at the wet benches before sitting.
Brand settled onto a bench as well, and then waited silently.
"I'm going to cut to the chase." The band member with shoulder-length hair, whose name Brand really would have liked to know by now, took the lead once more. "We'd like to hire you."
Brand frowned, completely lost – and unwilling to let on that he was lost. He waited in silence.
"You have a reputation, you've got access to FBI resources, and you've never toured with us before," he continued, "all of which makes you a valuable ally… and someone we can trust, since we're the ones coming to you."
Brand wondered what in the world these people thought 'FBI resources' were and why he'd be at liberty to access them for a freelance gig. However, in the name of refusing to let them realize he had no clue what they were talking about – or what their names were – he continued to stare them down silently and balefully.
"It normally wouldn't come to this," the guy continued, motioning to the band assembled around the table, "but you're exceptionally difficult to reach and we're desperate. I don't know if we're cursed, haunted, or just marked for… disaster. But now there's an embedded journalist coming along and our opening band is blowing up online. With that kind of exposure, we can't risk things going sideways."
Hm. Jones was part of the issue; that much was true. But it sounded a whole lot like that was secondary to something else.
"Cursed or haunted, huh?" Brand finally spoke. "It sounds to me like you need a priest more than you need an FBI presence. And in case you've forgotten, I've got a job. Two jobs. I've been hired by your opening band for the duration of the tour, which is how I'm spending my hard-earned vacation time."
One of the band members peered over at the tour bus curiously, no doubt wondering how much vacation time the FBI allowed their agents. Brand ignored her.
"We'll double what the Andrews kid is paying you."
Ha. That would be an awfully small number.
"I'm a man of my word." Brand wanted more information, so he left it at that rather than sounding off about the dubious ethics involved in this little visit.
"Of course you are, and we're not asking you to break your contract with Archie-,"
A flurry of glances around the picnic table alerted Brand to the fact that they were now officially off whatever script they'd come up with prior to this conversation.
Brand waited for everyone to calm down – and in one instance to stop kicking another member of the band in the shins. Finally the spokesperson guy continued:
"-because what we need is something you can do, maybe even do better, while you manage security for Archie's band. There would just be a few, uh, tweaks to where you were located at key moments." The guy paused and seemed to be thinking through what exactly they needed – and realized there was more: "Oh! And we'd need regular meetings with you, of course. Updates. And, uh, if you were able…"
The man seemed to struggle to find the right words. That was not a good sign.
Brand let his expression go from unreadable to not-overly-pleased. This was almost certainly going to be the primary demand made of him.
"The journalist." The woman cut in abruptly. Impatiently, even though the band members were only a few minutes into their visit. "We need to know who it is, and ideally we'd get rid of him or her."
"Or manage them." The man gave his bandmate a sharp look. They must be pretty far off script at this point.
Brand did not let his expression change, but he felt his pulse pick up speed at the implication of a threat against the kid. Surely they didn't mean anything bad would actually happen to Jones, but it all seemed vaguely menacing.
"Hey, it's the journalist's funeral if-," the woman said before angry looks silenced her from every direction.
Brand's eyebrows shot up. His voice dropped threateningly when he spoke again. "Do I need to make a phone call?"
"No, no!" The spokesperson's eyes were wide. "That's not what she means. That's not what any of us mean." The man turned to address the woman, harshly: "Knock it off. It's never been a member of the press."
She shrugged. "Well, we've never had a member of the press on tour with us."
Brand's eyes were slits at this point. "What exactly are you saying has 'never been a member of the press'?"
"The cursed one."
"Fine. Thank you for wasting my time. I will find you a priest on Google." Brand was losing patience. Or maybe he'd lost it.
"Wait, wait – sorry – just hear us out. On every tour someone has a run of extremely bad luck. It looked like a whole lot of coincidences, just life happening or whatever, until recently." The man spoke in a rush, apparently realizing that they were about to be ordered away from their own tour bus – and perhaps lose their viral opening band as well. "Now we're not so sure. Not since a few things happened last week."
Huh.
It sounded like superstition might have run into some actual malice. It all sounded minor, but disregarding the 'coincidences' as active imaginations would mean that something odd had begun happening the previous week.
Brand didn't like the idea of anything troubling cropping up shortly before people under his protection were entering a situation.
Besides, minor or not, the band had come all this way for a reason – and information was power.
Brand steepled his fingers and went back to making his expression inscrutable. It really was the fastest way to get the most information. "Tell me more."
00000
Yay! We're definitely heading on tour very soon, and I cannot wait (chaos is coming!).
I hope you're having a more peaceful February, filled with sunshine and free time. I'll be looking forward to any and all notes as I work through my crazy season and write the next chapter - and as always I really, really appreciate you reading along! It is a constant source of amazement and delight.
-Button