Woo-hoo, another chapter! :)

Thanks so much for your kind review, Leafgreene01! I love your analysis of Dax and company either knowing more - or needing to pretend that to keep their jobs. The spoon is definitely about to have an adventure, I agree - and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

Natureliesbeneath, I love your insights about Brand and Jughead circling something potentially hard on their relationship - but not quite going there (yet?). And yay for Brand being on things so we can stand down! :) Also, you have some great theories about Dax and Jughead, and how that might be developing. I am glad you are up for more health mystery! I am so happy to have Clark along too, and I've been looking forward to Sarah entering the scene and getting up to speed. You made me laugh with your comment "she literally needs to tell them all off!" :-D I wish I could upload six instalments just for you, too. But for now...

I hope you enjoy!

-Button

00000

FP bought an impressive stash of peanuts and chocolate from a convenience store, and then Brand found a place for Jughead to lie down while they made a plan. It wasn't conspicuous at all in some ways – and, more importantly, it was a discreet distance from the hotel.

"Just browsing for the dorm room," Brand said snippily as they moved past a woman. "You know how it is. We'll let you know if we find what we're looking for. Thanks."

The furniture saleswoman obligingly kept her distance, and though she looked over regularly as they held their hushed meeting, it seemed more like she wanted a commission than that she was curious or suspicious.

"I'm setting a timer," Brand announced. "Every three and a half minutes, we move. Shoes off, Jones."

Jughead obligingly kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the nearest bed to stretch out luxuriously. He felt less dizzy immediately, and his forehead prickled with a flooding sensation of relief. And then there was the mattress itself: "Wow, this one's nice. Definitely an upgrade for a dorm room. Or for my bedroom at home."

The adults stared down at him with matching withering looks.

Jughead took advantage of his clearing head and tried to preempt whatever his dad and Brand might have in mind for this conversation. "Do you want to know what I think we should do?"

"No."

Fantastic. FP and Brand were in complete lockstep, right down to answering him in unison.

Only then it turned out that they were in lockstep about something else: they exchanged glances and both frowned, apparently thinking better of their gut response.

Brand sighed deeply. "Fine. Talk. What do you think we should do?"

"You're not a little kid," FP added. His tone was less abrasive, even if his choice of words made Jughead want to roll his eyes. "So. What have you got?"

"Well." Jughead ran a quick mental inventory. "We need a cover story for why Dad knows me and hangs around – at least some of the time."

Brand made a skeptical noise. "Your father seems to think we need one, anyway. So I guess that means-,"

"It means that we need one. Because Dad isn't going to drop this," Jughead finished for his godfather. "Right, Dad?"

FP looked smug when he nodded.

"We also need to figure out what in the world is going on, and that means me getting closer to Dax-,"

"Uh-uh." Brand's interruption was swift and fierce. "No way. We are not sending you in undercover as part of his team. Knowing it's a trap doesn't actually help if you go charging right into it-,"

"Trap?" FP's smug expression vanished and was replaced by anger – even though at this point he had no information about who he was angry with or why. "And what's this about becoming part of Dax's team? How exactly would that work?"

"Jones here was offered a job today by the primary security team, who are all kinds of sketchy and have their eye on him for some reason." Brand sounded frustrated, but also a little smug himself. No doubt he thought he'd won this exchange.

"If you will let me finish…" Jughead paused to eat a handful of peanuts and to give the adults a moment to get themselves back under control. "Thank you."

"Well? You gonna finish saying whatever it is you've got to say?" Brand motioned impatiently.

Mostly under control, anyway.

Jughead glared at Brand but continued without delaying further. Making a point really was secondary to making a plan. "I'll stay friendly with Dax and make it clear that I wish I could join their team… but that I can't. Because of Dad."

Both men stared at him blankly, but at least they were still listening.

"I'm supposedly a relative of SAC Wilson, and her family name means all kinds of things," Jughead explained swiftly. He wasn't entirely sure how to sum up the privilege and complexity of the family dynasty, but he was pretty sure people wouldn't question things too closely if a weird dynamic was attributed to 'the family' in this context. Most likely, nobody understood the obligations and responsibilities any better than he did.

"So if we say that Dad is interested in getting serious – engaged or married – with a member of my family, then maybe he'd be trying to get points with her by trying to manage me. That would mean we'd have a complicated – maybe even low-key antagonistic – relationship. At the very least, we'd have a reason to interact. And, obviously, I'd have to stay on the security team my family pulled strings to get me a job with. Otherwise I'd get ratted out to my family… by Dad."

FP looked displeased; Brand looked skeptical.

So it was basically the best case scenario: both were seriously considering the idea.

"Mutually assured destruction? The kind of cold war where neither of you can get too far out of line – or let the other too far out of their sight – or else you risk disaster? That sounds tricky." Brand hummed thoughtfully. "Next bed."

"Huh?" Jughead blinked up at his godfather.

"Move it, kid. Next mattress."

Oh. Yeah.

They moved on to the next one in the row.

"This one's like a board," Jughead complained before he even lay down. "Does anyone actually like mattresses this firm?"

"Next one, kid. No sense hurting your back while you're supposed to be resting." Brand shooed him to the next bed.

Once they'd settled in again, FP spoke up.

"I don't like it… but I think it could work." FP nodded thoughtfully as he spoke. "We have some room to play around with how we'd be related if I did marry in, since we haven't been super clear how you're a Wilson."

"You could be a prospective stepfather, maybe," Jughead agreed. "And neither of us is thrilled with the other, but we've both got aces up our sleeves – or something to lose, maybe – which means we aren't openly fighting. Just…"

"Watching for vulnerabilities in each other that we might be able to exploit." FP's mouth quirked up. "If you were about to become my son, I'd be watching you very closely for any signs of weakness. Or trouble."

"Keep your friends close," Jughead quipped, returning the smile. "And nothing is more of a wild card than a possible enemy that you don't have a good bead on yet."

This time Brand looked impressed. Good.

"Okay. That just might work," Brand conceded. "You'd flirt with Dax and his team, but not commit. He'd have to tip his hand if he wants something from you, and you'd be temptingly close to being within reach – but far enough out of his control for us to have a prayer of keeping you out of any trouble that crops up."

That all sounded right to Jughead, and like it solved all of their cover story problems.

He was about to say so, only Brand suddenly frowned. "However, that would also mean you and I would need to be somewhat antagonistic. I'm not sure I like that."

"Why? Do you think that's too hard a sell?" Jughead grinned cheekily.

"I think that a cover story placing you at odds with both members of the wolf pack is… a lot." Brand looked even more uneasy as he said the words. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

FP expression became serious. "That's true, Jug. It would be intense. Maybe we need to reconsider-,"

"What are you talking about?" Jughead demanded. "It's just cover. And it's for the shortest tour in the history of tours. It even plays to our strengths. Look at us right now!"

The adults exchanged looks, which probably meant they were about to disagree again.

"It's either that or we won't be able to hang out, Dad," Jughead pressed hard on their concerns before they could raise any other objections. "It would be too suspicious for the three of us to act like one happy family. Someone would recognize us for sure."

"Don't try that argument on us, kid. It is not either-or," Brand protested. "And won't it be suspicious to your friends if we suddenly start fighting?"

"No." Jughead did roll his eyes that time. That might even be the easiest part of the act: his friends were more than primed to see conflict within the wolf pack, even when it didn't exist. "Besides, you always say that the best way to get someone to trust me is to ask them to do me a favor. This way Dax can 'help' me with you, and I'll get the chance to see if he really does have something going on."

Crap. Even before Brand's expression turned to stone, Jughead knew he'd make a strategic misstep.

"If Dax has something going on?" Brand repeated coldly. "Are you seriously still entertaining the possibility that he's completely innocent after everything that happened today?"

Thankfully FP looked like he was actually weighing Jughead's argument. "Brandon, this is not about Jughead taking an oath of loyalty to you or Dax. And I'm with you – I don't want him joining another security team. But I also don't want to hang back at a distance all the time, and I don't want something coming out of nowhere to bite Jug or anyone else. This approach gets the jobs done, even if it offends your delicate sensibilities by giving Dax something that he wants."

Jughead wasn't sure he liked his dad's tone at the end - he'd gotten awfully sarcastic, and it sounded like he was baiting Brand.

Then FP and Brand locked gazes and appeared to be staring each other down. That was a better sign; Jughead was pretty sure that his dad's track record was almost perfect when it came to these sorts of silent conflicts with Brand.

"A-and we're obviously good at fighting," Jughead pointed out again, hoping that observation would tip the scales still further.

Brand looked away from FP to glower down at Jughead. "This is how you want to spend the tour? You were just complaining about my attitude, and demanding that I stop treating you like 'an old gym bag,' as I recall."

"What did Brandon do this ti-," FP was fired up in an instant.

Jughead hurried to cut him off. "Nothing. Brand was getting me out of the venue quicker than I wanted to go, and I..." Jughead stopped himself before the word 'overreacted' came out and screwed up everyting he'd discussed with Brand. "I mean, no, don't do that sort of thing normally. But just for the tour, sure."

"What sort of thing?" FP demanded.

"Old gym bag?" Brand repeated, ignoring FP, although now his glare had disappeared and he sounded tentative. "Really? You're sure about this, killer?"

"I will be the most believable, unloved piece of baggage being dragged along on tour by a toxic and quasi-abusive boss that you've ever seen." Jughead grinned as winsomely as he could. "One who is making himself obnoxiously implicated in the love life of his maybe-future-stepfather."

"Next mattress." Brand's tone was dry. "I think we have a few more details to discuss."

Jughead shrugged; he was pretty sure he'd won this round. Only then he caught sight of his father's expression.

FP's glare was full force, and it was directed at Brand again. "Quasi-abusive?"

Dang it.

"It's just a phrase, Dad." Jughead bounced once on the new mattress, which was delightfully springy, before Brand shot a hand out to still the motion.

"Do not bring that saleswoman over here," Brand hissed.

"Sorry."

"That is not just a phrase," FP said in a very similar tone.

Hm. The war might be won, as his idea was quite likely to be the plan they adopted… but apparently Jughead was going to have to do some more fast talking before everyone acquiesced.

Well, what else was new?

Brand inhaled deeply and then exhaled noisily. "Everything's fine, FP; the kid is capable of speaking his mind, in case you haven't noticed. Regardless, all of this is gonna be a moot point if he needs to go back to the hospital. How are you feeling now?"

Oh. Yes. That was new. Jughead tried to remember anything at all about what had spooked Brand and his dad, but he could not remember anything that they had described.

"Are you having flashbacks?" FP prompted.

"Blacking out?" Brand added, his eyes narrowed as he studied Jughead carefully – no doubt for any signs of lying.

"I feel a lot better now," Jughead said truthfully. "I think I just needed to lie down. I overdid it and didn't eat enough, and-,"

"You'll be under a lot of pressure if we go forward with this plan," FP interrupted. "Too much pressure if skipping breakfast did this to you."

"We-ell." Jughead shot Brand a quick glance. With any luck his godfather would take the lead on this conversation.

"It was a little more than just skipping breakfast," Brand said darkly.

Whew. Jughead had not been looking forward to telling FP about his morning.

"Jones will fill you in. On the next mattress." Brand patted Jughead's shoulder, prompting him to get up.

Jughead wanted to groan, but Brand continued in a warmer tone:

"He's earned the right to tell his own story."

Jughead shot Brand a startled look, and was surprised to see his godfather almost beaming with pride. A quick glance at FP revealed that his father also looked a whole lot more pleased than Jughead thought the situation warranted.

"All right, boy," FP said gruffly, "if you think you don't need medical attention, go ahead and tell me why not. You've been making sense so far." FP's eyes narrowed. "Don't screw that up now."

Jughead smiled and had to stop himself from bouncing onto the next mattress.

The moment felt like a salute to his autonomy and adulthood, and it almost didn't matter whether it was symbolic or sincere; it was a start.

00000

Brand checked the time as he made his way down the hall to Sarah's room.

The hotel was only just ending its continental breakfast, for heaven's sake. A lifetime had passed already that morning, and yet there were probably pastries that had not yet aged out of being edible.

It boggled the mind how life could be so jam packed with Jones on the loose.

Brand took quick stock of himself before he knocked on Sarah's door. He was limping; the kid was not wrong. This would be a sit-down session, though, and not necessarily lengthy. With any luck she wouldn't catch on to the fact that Brand was not operating at one hundred percent.

If they hurried, maybe he could even find out if the coffee was still being served in that breakfast area, Brand reflected as he stifled a yawn.

He ran one hand through his hair while he reached out to knock, but the door opened before his fist made contact.

"Are you done preening?" Sarah Quinn smiled good-naturedly. She gave a playful, mocking toss of her own hair, a gesture which was somehow wildly distracting. "It's getting longer. It looks alright; you might try keeping it like this."

Brand had just gotten it cut, actually, though admittedly he had not taken off as much as usual – and while it wasn't a conspicuously floppy cut like Clark's, it was certainly not anywhere near as short as the military-inspired styles that many of the agents favored.

It appeared that Brand was not the only one to figure that right before the tour was a good time to get his hair cut; Sarah had done something different with her hair as well.

Brand wasn't sure he'd be able to come up with the words to describe the change; it was still long and straight, and it had always been shiny. But something about it was particularly nice. Maybe it was part of her cover.

Oh, wow, there was another change too. "You got glasses?"

"Why don't you come in," Sarah said in response. She took a step back and motioned for Brand to enter the room, but her eyes were scanning the hallway as she did so. "Where's Jughead?"

Yeah. They were supposed to have had a chaperone for this conversation.

"Best laid plans," Brand said simply.

Sarah's nose wrinkled as she considered how much of a non-answer that was, but she visibly shrugged it off and turned around to lead Brand into her hotel room.

She was wearing simple black, from head to toe, and the clothing appeared to be made from masculine fabrics with an array of baggy pockets – yet somehow she cut a decidedly feminine silhouette.

"Hey, is that… a pocket protector?" She really did look different, Brand realized, and the more he noticed, the stranger the sum of the parts became. "Oh, wow, a spiral bound notebook too; nice touch. What are you doing, cosplaying as a period war correspondent?"

Brand snapped his gaze back up from her outfit as Sarah turned to face him.

"Williams gave all of this to me. For the record, I am not sold either, but I'm not entirely sure how else to draw attention to myself and away from Jughead." Sarah shrugged. To be fair, Brand couldn't fault her logic: it wasn't an easy situation. "But that's not why you're here. We can discuss wardrobe later; Jughead might even have some ideas."

Ha. Brand would put money on the runt having all kinds of screwball ideas, each one less helpful than the last.

"For now, have a seat." Sarah perched on the edge of her bed, drawing her knees up to her chin and adopting a scolding expression. "What's the damage? Because you can't fool me; something has obviously already happened, and it looks like it involved your knee and potentially also your shoulder."

The morning sun must have shifted just so because it caught a wall mirror and lit Sarah up with a warm glow.

Brand took a deep breath as he took it all in.

Here was Sarah Quinn, bathed in winter sunlight, and off the clock – but now on tour, sitting on a cheap hotel bed, dressed to kill (regrettably in a more literal than fun, figurative sense), all because Brand had been threatened by some Southsider that may or may not have been Gunnar's insane father.

All the same, Sarah looked more relaxed than she'd been in months.

Brand couldn't help but wonder how she'd look on an actual vacation.

"Earth to Davies?"

00000

Sarah felt more like herself than she had in ages. Something had clicked back into place, and every ounce of the self-possession that she could have sworn she'd once had – recently, even – was back.

With interest.

And apparently her mojo had not returned a moment too soon; Brandon Davies, wearing a shoulder-defining security T-shirt that skimmed his torso so artfully that it was almost suggestive – and, of course, having finger-mussed his longish hair into striking-yet-professional perfection – was leaning against the hotel bureau… and staring at her.

The winter sun shifted and hit the large mirror awkwardly; the resulting glare was enough to distract Sarah from the task at hand even without Brandon's awkward staring, but miraculously she felt completely in control of the situation and the conversation.

Agent Sarah Quinn, the woman described in her official file as 'reliably brilliant and effortlessly exceptional,' was back.

And she would be taking no prisoners.

In some ways it likely helped that Brand was off of his game, giving Sarah an advantage and surer footing. He'd been the one to insist that Jughead be included in their briefings, and now he'd shown up favoring his injuries and missing his godson.

That was not difficult math. No doubt Jughead was cozily sleeping in his bed, and Brand would think twice about disturbing the teen in the morning before he was actually needed.

Thinking about the two of them tussling was enough to bring a small smile to Sarah's face. Jughead had a lightness to him that made his sparring seem joyful. It was almost as fun to watch as Brand's precisely measured exertions as he maneuvered his godson to be exactly where he wanted him – and then pounced – all while the gleam in his watchful eye revealed that he was only too eager to be outsmarted by his protegee.

Even now, while Brand was twitching with discomfort over whatever he was about to explain, Sarah could see that gleam. He was proud of something that Jughead had done, even if it had meant re-injuring Brand's knee.

Or… maybe Davies was about to lie to her face.

Again.

Sarah felt her smile disappear at the thought.

"Earth to Davies?"

Brand seemed to shake himself, but instead of replying, he started fishing through his pockets. He pulled out his cellphone while he used his other hand to shift his leather belt back into place; it had slipped lower on his hips. The belt looked expensive and well-worn, so the fact that it was not staying in place suggested that Brandon was still down a few pounds.

Sarah observed this with concern. Brand didn't carry much bulk, so he could ill afford the weight loss. She wondered what he'd been eating lately, and how much sleep he'd been getting.

Davies' eyes caught Sarah's and he seemed to regard her curiously. He looked down at the phone screen absently, but then he frowned and looked more closely at it. He began tapping, apparently opening his lock screen.

A moment later he was reading something intently.

"What is it, Brandon?" Sarah finally asked.

"It's a prank," Brand said. "At least, it had better be a prank."

"Is it from Jughead?" Perhaps Sarah would get the full explanation now.

"Nope. It's the Andrews kid." Brand took a deep breath and then let it out forcefully when his phone vibrated a few times in quick succession. "I'd better get upstairs. There's an outside chance that this might be real."

"I'll come with you," Sarah said redundantly; she was already on her feet and Davies was already motioning her toward the hallway. "What do you know?"

"Nothing, apparently." Brand sounded darkly amused, but there was an edge in his tone that said he might actually be upset by whatever was happening.

Then he rubbed the back of his neck.

Sometimes Sarah resented how well she knew Brandon Davies, but observing him had become a habit: she seemed to pick up on even his smallest tics and tells – and this one was not subtle. Something was very wrong. "What did he say is going on?"

"He thinks he just received a couriered care package. Of cocaine." Brand shook his head and all but rolled his eyes. "As if Andrews would know that from chalk dust. Bu-ut-,"

"What made him think it was cocaine?" Sarah made a face as she spoke. The answers to that question could only range from sketchy to wildly problematic.

"Exactly."

They were making their way through the hallway at a decent clip, but Sarah couldn't help but feel impatient. "Why aren't we running?"

"Don't want to spook anyone," Brand said, and suddenly he was smirking.

Huh. Maybe it was because he didn't want to hurt his knee. Or because he had already hurt his knee.

Whatever the reason, somehow Brandon Davies was not panicking even though Sarah felt adrenaline coursing through her over the thought of Archie Andrews being caught on the hotel cameras accepting an illicit delivery and then disappearing into his room.

Nothing good could come of it, even if nothing truly bad came of it.

"I texted him not to go back into his room until I'm there." Brand was stealing glances down at his phone as they neared the stairwell. There was an image on his screen.

And then it moved.

"Do you have Archie on video?" Sarah craned her neck in an attempt to see better.

"No. This is Jones TV," Brand said with another smirk. "That's his name for it, anyway. He's napping and I want eyes on him, and this is just the sort of reason why. Jones has a way of getting himself into trouble. Even though his dad's with him for the moment, this seemed-,"

Brand cut himself off as they began climbing the stairs. That could merely be due to the exertion of favoring his knee while taking the steps so swiftly, but there seemed to be something more to it.

"Is Jughead okay?" Sarah felt like they'd gone over this already, but something still seemed off.

"Yeah. He's fine." The words were right, but Brand's eyes tightened with worry.

Okay. Whatever was going on was probably related to Jughead, then. Good to know. He must be technically fine, but something was not as it should be.

Sarah let it drop, since they made short work of the flight of stairs and exited the stairwell – and Archie was right in front of them, pacing like a caged animal.

His hands were empty.

"Where-," Brandon barely got the single word out, but it held explosive power.

"I did nothing. I froze, called you, texted you, and here I am." Archie pointed down the hallway. "The security guys took the package."

"Okay. Good." Brandon still looked upset, but more than a little mollified that Archie had not left it somewhere unattended. "Where's the rest of the band? Where is everyone else?" Brand demanded.

"They went down to breakfast," Archie explained. "I ate early; I wanted to go for a run."

"Of course you did," Brand said, and Sarah was surprised to hear warmth and approval in his tone instead of anything approaching sarcasm.

Huh. These two must have become better friends somewhere along the way.

"Where's Jughead?" Archie asked. He was moving his hands nervously and looked behind them to see if his friend was simply lagging. "I thought he'd come up with you."

Brand shook his head but did not offer any further explanation.

Curious.

"Who dropped the package off? What did they say?" Brand asked. "Did the courier know your name?"

There must have been no name on the packaging, Sarah realized.

"He was just one of those – you know – couriers. Like my dad sometimes uses when something important is running late," Archie waved a hand vaguely. "He was looking for my room number and he said the package was for the lead singer. So…"

"So our leading theory is that you're opening for a bunch of coke addicts?" Brand's tone had gone murderous. "Because in that case-,"

"No!" Archie definitely knew Brand – he waved one arm for emphasis, in an attempt to flag the man down before he could gain any more momentum. "My parents checked into everything. They would have pulled the plug on the entire tour if they found out that anyone was using. And they would have found out, believe me."

Brand nodded, but Sarah could tell that he was not fully satisfied.

"Do you need to go… taste it?" Archie asked. "Make sure it's real, or see how pure it is or whatever?"

"What exactly does cocaine taste like?" Brand asked incredulously.

"How would I know?" Archie was aggrieved and seemed to have entirely missed Brandon's sarcasm. "You're the professional."

"And in order to stay remotely competent in that capacity, no, I will not be consuming rat poison and god knows what else," Brand snapped. "Do you think the FBI hosts cocaine tastings in their free time?"

Apparently the friction between the two was not entirely gone.

"Brand…" Sarah hoped that would be enough of a nudge to get them back on track.

"I'm gonna let the primary security team handle the package. We've got plenty of other fish to fry. Is Mary downstairs getting breakfast right now?" Brand asked.

Archie nodded, clearly used to people asking him about his mother and using her first name. "She went down with everyone else a few minutes ago."

Sarah cocked her head as she considered how conveniently timed the delivery was.

Brand locked eyes with her; he was clearly thinking the same thing. "Andrews, if you see the delivery guy again, you let me know immediately," Brand said. "Call and text."

"You got it," Archie said smartly. His nervous fidgeting stilled.

"I need to talk to Mary. Can you handle…" Brand trailed off as he addressed Sarah, motioning to Archie.

Yeah, Davies likely had no clue what to do with this situation, Sarah realized with a too-familiar sinking feeling. He was a con artist by trade, after all, and not actually trained.

"I'll make sure I'm back before anyone but hotel security gets here," Brand offered in a conciliatory voice. He must have noticed something in her expression."I'll do the heavy lifting, don't worry; this is my gig. I just don't want to delay – or have this conversation with Mary on a cell phone."

Oh. Maybe he did have a clue.

He was also apparently adept at reading Sarah's facial expressions.

Sarah nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself.

Brand looked down at his phone and toggled between a few screens in quick succession. Sarah watched Archie peer at it curiously.

Satisfied with whatever he'd seen on his phone, Brand strode toward the elevator and was gone in the time it took for an elevator car to arrive.

"Just when I think Brand's no longer a massive creep…" Archie sighed heavily and then seemed to change the subject: "Am I in trouble?"

"No. You were in the hallway, on camera, for the entire time that you had possession of the package. You did everything exactly right." Sarah smiled at him reassuringly, but then frowned. "What do you mean about Special Agent Davies?"

"You didn't catch that? He's watching Jughead sleep. On his phone." Archie ran a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh that seemed to release a whole lot of tension from his shoulders. Only then he folded his arms and glowered, ramping the tension right back up. "The eye of Sauron has officially leveled up. You want to be the one to have that conversation?"

Sarah grimaced. That did seem awfully intrusive now that she thought more about it. Somehow she'd gotten the impression that it was Jughead's idea, but now she was not sure why she'd assumed that. Had Brandon actually told her that Jughead knew about it? Or had she merely assumed this was all consensual, and filled in the blanks with the narrative she most wanted to believe?

It took a few seconds before Sarah realized that she was mirroring Archie's displeased posture.

"I can talk to Jughead," Sarah offered. "But I have to make a few phone calls first. We need to figure out exactly what we're dealing with and whether or not it's a prank."

Archie seemed to deflate. "Yeah. And no. Thanks, but I'd rather be the one to talk to Jug. It would be weird coming from anyone else."

Sarah had no doubt that it would be weird regardless of who initiated the conversation, but she held her tongue about that as well.

Jumping into the tour even a few hours after everyone else seemed to have left her way behind.

"Oh, so what was that whole thing about a shooter?" Archie suddenly asked. "I completely forgot to ask Brand while he was here."

"A what?"

There was no doubt about it; the tour had barely begun and already Sarah Quinn was way, way behind.

00000

FP reached over Jughead and smoothed his palm over his son's forehead as if that could erase the lines forming there.

It must be another nightmare.

"Does he have a fever?" Brandon's disembodied voice jarred FP. "He seemed better after lying down, but I'm still not sure we've got the whole picture."

"I'm disconnecting if you do that again," FP warned. "Mute the phone. Now."

"If he has a fever-,"

"No fever." FP sighed, resigning himself to having the conversation with Davies. "I shouldn't be disappointed, but at least that would be an explanation."

A short rattling noise came from the bedside table.

"Silence his phone. I think the well-adjusted one's been texting Jones."

"It's certainly been buzzing," FP confirmed. He hadn't bothered to look at the screen, but it had seemed to be more than even Jughead's normal teenage level of connection to his friends now that they were on tour and seemed to have exciting news to relay at every hour of the day. "Anything I need to worry about?"

"Someone delivered a package of white powder to his room by courier." Brandon's voice had a slight echo, and then there was a ding. "I'm on my way to talk to Mary now. We've got it handled, but keep the kid completely away from this, huh?"

"Someone in the band is using?" FP asked, surprised. "I thought everyone had been vetted."

"They were. But still, that's theory number one. I'm going to hang up now, but I'll call you back if I can't get up to you and Jones in person soon."

"Roger that." FP eased off of the hotel bed. "Make sure you keep your phone on in case Jug wakes up and he's disoriented or something."

"Hang on. You're leaving the kid?" Brand sounded worried.

"He took a pain pill. He won't wake up for a while; odds are I'll be back before he realizes I've left. Besides, he's…" FP looked down at Jughead and was overwhelmed by competing feelings of worry and pride.

"I know he can handle it, but he shouldn't have to do it alone." Brand sounded angry.

"Sarah shouldn't have to either," FP said firmly.

Brand was silent for a few long moments before he spoke again. "Yeah. Sure. Go to her."

FP rolled his eyes. The weirdness of covertly communicating the reality of their cover story to Brandon had been one thing; the extreme weirdness of living their cover story in the same house as Brandon had been quite another.

Now it was over.

Only… it was not as if it had never happened.

FP was exhausted by the whole thing. Nobody had adequately conveyed to him what it would mean that both he and Sarah would forever recall their shared experiences – let alone the reality that they'd gotten used to living together and living as a couple. Even though they had only feigned a sexual relationship, they'd experienced shockingly real intimacy.

FP missed her; Sarah likely missed him too.

Brandon wanted to believe that their cover had been a distasteful pretense that both parties were nothing but relieved to be rid of.

Well, FP assumed that was Brandon's position on the subject. Davies and FP would never – not in any number of lifetimes – actually broach the subject.

It was exhausting enough without having to carefully consider all of that baggage every time Sarah Quinn, their shared friend and colleague, came up in conversation with Brandon.

And honestly, that was something Brandon should have some insight into, considering the nature of his bond with Jughead and the distinct lack of apology every time Jug instinctively reached for Davies' support instead of seeking out his friends or family.

That was the thought that, every once in a while, had FP leaning a little more heavily on the sore spot than he needed to.

So sue him.

"Silence the phone at least," Brand ordered.

FP sighed and picked up Jughead's cellphone.

When he realized what he was seeing, it was like a body blow.

All over the screen were communications from Gladys. Replies from Gladys.

"Brandon?" FP managed to speak despite a flood of shock – and a tinge of red at the edges of his vision. "We have another problem."

00000

"Just the man I wanted to see," Archie greeted FP when he came striding down the hall.

"I don't have any advice for you," FP replied with a stern look.

"About what?" Archie had been looking forward to making this pitch on behalf of the band, but it was possible that someone had told Jughead about his plan, and that his best friend had already asked FP. If that was the case, though–

"What I know about drugs is not likely to be much help in this situation." FP's stare was so intense that it could have pinned Archie to the wall.

"Oh! Yeah, no, that's not what I meant. At all." Archie shook his head swiftly. Only FP did have a point; he did likely have more experience with drugs and handling these kinds of issues than anyone else Archie knew. Especially given Davies' dismissive statement that the FBI didn't have tastings or whatever he'd been going on about. "Unless…"

"No." FP's tone was even harder this time, which was impressive.

"Well, what I was going to ask was what you think of helping the band out tonight." Archie gave FP what he hoped was an intriguing smile.

"Beyond the help that the road crew is already being paid to give you?" FP said skeptically.

"Yes." Archie smiled even more hopefully. This was just too good an idea; his vision would not be denied, he was sure. He just needed to pull off this pitch, and then it would become a reality.

"I'm really here to talk to Sarah," FP said, looking beyond Archie to locate the agent. "Can I get back to you?"

"Uh. Don't you want to hear what I-,"

"Thanks, Red. I'll let you know," FP said distractedly. He moved past Archie to where Agent Quinn was sitting on a padded bench in the hallway, texting someone.

FP sat down beside Agent Sarah, and one arm went around her shoulders. Archie was surprised by the intimacy of the gesture, particularly when Agent Quinn leaned into FP for a moment before straightening up once more… but Archie figured that must be because the breakup had been amicable – which he already knew.

"What do we know at this point?" FP asked her.

And sure, that was the pressing topic. But Archie's idea was not just urgent; it was important. After all, the performances themselves were the reason they were even here in the first place.

Maybe it made sense; maybe the security people saw anything security-related as the most important thing. Maybe the road crew would see anything crew-related as the most important. Alice certainly saw the costumes as more important than anyone else did.

And yet, it seemed like maybe everyone should at least acknowledge that the music itself did trump other concerns. It wasn't like the tour was a cover story for one of their investigations; this was the real deal.

Well, whatever. Archie was not about to take his eyes off the goal. He'd just have to stay focused enough on the music to make up for everyone else getting distracted by minutiae.

Jughead would understand; he had vision. His role was to capture the magic of the tour in writing, after all. Archie pulled out his phone and sent another text to his best friend.

It was getting late, so surely Jug would get up soon. Then they could make plans together, well before the intense preparations for the night's concert would begin.

He tapped out one more text while FP and Agent Sarah chatted animatedly. They were awfully good friends considering they were exes. Maybe they'd get back together, Archie mused when he looked over and saw how close they were to each other on the admittedly small bench.

But that was just another distraction from the tour. Archie ordered himself to focus on savoring the experience.

Talking to Jughead about the concert itself would be a refreshing step in the right direction. Archie could hardly wait.

00000

What could possibly go wrong? And will they actually get to the stage in the next chapter? I'm excited about getting them there! :)

As always, thanks so much for any and all notes and encouragement. It means the world to me just to know folks continue reading along (thank you!), and hearing your insights and theories definitely strengthens the story in a host of ways.

I hope you are having a restful and enjoyable week!

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