Life happens, but thankfully so do chapters (eventually, anyway)! And, even more thankfully, so do encouraging reviews. Thank you so, so much!
LeafGreene01, I'm so glad the chaos is satisfying and you're eager to read more. I hope you enjoy this installment and the tour (finally) kicking off for real!
Natureliesbeneath, Brand is injured, so I understand your concerns... but I also think you are right that Brand bounces and is probably going to bounce back. We will have to see - he's sort of right on the edge of predictability for me in this story. I can see a path for him, but he does like to go off roading from time to time! Jughead as a genius on paper is probably the best summary of this series ever. :-D "It sounded good in my head" is almost his motto at this point. I love your analysis of there being a deep wound that needs to finally be cleaned out (perhaps messily) so it can heal cleanly between those two. I love your eye for complex dynamics, whether that's Brand reacting to Jones TV (lol) or Sarah and FP working through their former cover and how that is likely to affect Brand. I'm excited to see how this plays out as everyone is put under pressure... and I'll love hearing your thoughts on this chapter as well!
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
"I sent him tickets to three concerts," Kevin confessed. "So we'll have to make arrangements."
He braced for the angry outburst that was sure to follow. He just needed to weather this reaction, and then they'd be past it and able to–
"Good."
Kevin did a double take. "Wh-what?"
"That's good." Sheriff Keller folded his arms, but it was a pensive gesture and not an unhappy one. "You saved me the trouble. Joaquin should come if he can."
Kevin's mouth snapped shut when he finally realized it was hanging open.
Huh.
"Look," Tom continued, "neither of you will figure anything out if you don't have time together. You followed him-,"
Kevin did his best not to wince; their time together in protective custody had been claustrophobic and Joaquin had been off-puttingly intense.
"-and now it's Joaquin's turn to follow you."
It was simple mathematics, his tone and expression seemed to say.
If only.
Kevin realized with a start that he was slightly disappointed that his father wasn't upset. Maybe even trying to undo what Kevin had done behind his back.
And that was an uncomfortable thought… did Kevin actually wish Joaquin wouldn't come to see him on the tour?
More to the point, did Kevin want to break up, and his head just hadn't figured that out yet? And was it possible that he was subconsciously – horror of horrors – trying to get his dad to do it for him?
Nothing about this line of thought was pleasant.
Unfortunately the thoughts were unshakeable, and the situation was imminent.
"So, when will he get here?" Tom was watching Kevin closely. Something must be showing on his face.
"The day after tomorrow." Kevin made a face. "Cheaper bus ticket that way."
"All right." Kevin's father nodded once, decisively. "I'll make a call and get him a room."
Kevin's head snapped up so swiftly that he heard something crack in his spine.
Tom held his gaze for a few long seconds. Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Kevin's father spoke again. "He might be on a different floor, too. If that's not a problem. Rooms book up quickly when there's a concert."
"Uh…" Kevin realized his dad was going to need at least that much buy-in from him. "Yeah. No, I know. Absolutely. Anything's fine."
There was another long pause, and Tom was clearly expectant.
"Thanks," Kevin added belatedly.
Tom's expression relaxed. He nodded slowly and thoughtfully, as if in response to his own thoughts. "You'll talk to me after."
It was not a question; it was not a request.
Honestly, Kevin was surprised and grateful that his father was even willing to let this conversation slide for that long. He was clearly giving the teens time and space to figure things out – but this was Kevin's official notice.
Sheriff Keller would want answers soon.
00000
Jughead woke up lazily, his dream slowly turning over in his mind even as it faded. He had been onstage with Archie and the band, and the cavernous venue had seemed to go on forever into the distance – and even though it was completely empty, the energy onstage had been white hot, as if a screaming crowd was just out of view, but still close enough to reach out and touch them.
Jughead went over the dream one last time, scouring his memory for details and impressions before he sat up.
He was ready to write.
Somehow – miraculously – the hotel room was empty. His laptop was on the desk. Jughead stretched, opened the computer, and then got down to business.
In some ways, it felt as though he was still dreaming; writing was one of the most absorbing activities he knew of.
That was why it startled Jughead very badly when a commanding voice interrupted him from behind.
"Kid?"
Jughead whirled around, fully expecting Brand to be standing in the room.
"Kid, you had better be there," Brand said more forcefully. "Pick up the phone. Now."
Oh.
Jughead spotted his dad's phone propped on a small table. He snatched it up and realized that the camera was on. And, apparently, the speakerphone.
"Hey, Brand. What's up? I was just working on my first article. Or my second one, I guess, since I've officially got two in the works now." Jughead clicked off the video feed with distaste. "You set up a panopticon, huh? It should have occurred to me to wonder how I got the gift of a moment's peace."
"Ha. Nice use of an SAT word." Brand's tone was dry, but even so it sounded like he was trying to make more of an effort than usual to engage with Jughead's humor.
That was not a good sign.
"What's going on? Is everything okay?" Jughead asked.
"You need to interview the band, right?"
That was not an answer to his question, and Brand didn't sound like he had any plans to give Jughead one.
Sighing in resignation, Jughead checked the time. "Yeah. I'm flexible on timing, though. I think they still have a few hours before they need to get ready."
"Not necessarily. Things are in flux. I'll come get you now; you can interview folks and then we'll get you some lunch."
"Why are things in flux? You can't just keep dropping hints and not tell me anything, Brand." Jughead assumed this was just how things went on the day of a concert, but he was curious about the details. "It's not because of the… special effects, is it?"
Brand probably wouldn't talk about interviewing the band if anyone else was around, but Jughead still felt instinctively like he should euphemize the shooter.
"No. And it's not about the shooter either," Brand said, sounding distracted. "I'll be on your floor in a minute. Grab whatever you need and be ready to move."
Jughead looked at the phone quizzically, even though he'd turned off the camera. "Wait, what? Why do you need to walk me up one flight of stairs?"
"Just get ready. I want to get back to the band right away," Brand directed firmly.
Jughead set down the phone – noting that Brand did not disconnect the call, even though he was probably only yards away from their shared room – and made short work of collecting his laptop, notebook, camera, and a handheld audio recorder that his dad had bought for the tour.
The door jostled and then clicked – and then Brand was moving through the room like a whirlwind. "Go, go, go. Mary's tense. She wants me with the band every second from now until the concert is over and they're in their beds for the night."
"What? Why? And if she's that tense, why did you even come down here? I can walk." Jughead avoided Brand's eyes when his godfather gave him a look. He felt much improved after sleeping and eating, and Brand had to know that this morning had been a one-off.
"Here." Brand seemed to decide to ignore that topic of conversation. Instead, he drew a fistful of energy bars out of his pocket and handed them to Jughead. "Eat these and stop asking stupid questions."
"Ohhhh, I get it. We're practicing our cover story," Jughead snarked. "You're into method acting, I take it?"
"Ha. Funny. That's not a bad line." For the second time, Brand acknowledged Jughead's joke far too generously.
"Brand, seriously. What's going on?" Jughead was inexplicably more worried by Brand humoring him than by anything else his godfather had said or done. "Is it Dad?"
"No. It's something that just came up; we're looking into it. Somebody… delivered some illegal drugs to the band's floor of the hotel." Brand shrugged far too casually. "That is not something we'd hoped to see on this tour."
Jughead shot Brand a wide-eyed look. That was definitely less than half of the story. "Uh, you think?"
"Yes, I do. And we don't want to see it again." Brand looked at Jughead meaningfully and motioned for his godson to hurry up. "Mary wants me physically between the band and anything else that can possibly happen."
Jughead shook his head in disbelief but moved more swiftly as he checked his camera batteries and memory card. "Who were the drugs for?"
"Let's go," Brand said.
Evasive maneuvers, check.
"Hmmm, were they for… Archie?" Jughead feigned seriousness, hoping to goad his godfather into giving him more information.
"Hey. I thought FP took your phone," Brand said, suddenly looking around the room in irritation.
"He did?" Jughead looked around too; sure enough, it was missing.
Wait just a second…
"They were delivered to Archie? And you didn't want me to know, so you stole my phone?"
Brand looked heavenward in exasperation. "You are too smart for your own good. Either that or you are a complete idiot." Brand grabbed Jughead's shoulder and began hustling him out of the hotel room. "Only time will tell, though, and at the moment we are both late."
00000
FP bumped shoulders with Clark as they passed each other in the narrow corridor. "Pick up the pace, Kent. I've passed you three times."
"I'm working on it, Penn. Not all of us work construction in our spare time." Clark was not surprised when FP's expression did not change; he seemed lost in thought.
FP had been in a deeply pensive mood since he'd joined the road crew at the finally-reopened venue… and not necessarily a good one.
Clark couldn't help grinning, though, and he knew he'd been doing better than pulling his own weight – even though it was true that FP was outpacing him handily. Clark had thrown himself into every job with gusto and was enjoying every task, no matter how small, and thoroughly savoring the experience.
Clark had never thought this would be the case, but it felt amazing to get a break from thinking. He'd been doing so much training, reading, and writing lately – and though he'd been doing some physical training as well, that had been far from this sort of relatively mindless grunt work.
Hauling equipment was just what the doctor had ordered as treatment for what had promised to be an epic case of burnout.
The camaraderie was nice, too, though it had admittedly been confined to these sorts of interactions with FP so far.
The others seemed to ignore Clark. They were maybe even keeping their distance.
It wasn't anything particularly obvious, and Clark wasn't sure he would have even noticed – loner that he himself could be at times – if it were not for the stark contrast with how FP was treated by all and sundry.
"Don't get us all in trouble with the boss, Penn." Another member of the road crew, one who had been passed by Clark – more than once, let the record show –, interjected with a joking lilt in his tone. "You need to learn to be on work to rule with the rest of us."
"Well, maybe when we're in a union, we can talk about that," FP shot back with a warning look. "Until then, someone's got to keep us in compliance with the contract, and it ain't gonna be you."
The man laughed appreciatively.
Clark was confused, though; he looked from FP to the other man curiously. "You aren't unionized?"
"Ha! No, sir. I'm not paying any more dues to a union that doesn't do squat, and nobody else on this crew feels any differently. And that's on the record." The man spat on the floor and then stalked off.
Huh. Clark could hear a world of backstory in the man's words, but he had made it clear that he was done with the conversation.
Clark looked questioningly at FP, who gave him a quick shake of the head – and when someone else came up behind Clark, it was clear why.
"Loafing on the job, Penn? We're counting on you to single handedly get us back on track after all the delays this morning." The man was gruff but he was smiling. His smile faded when he turned to Clark. "You're wanted out by the truck. Off the record, you might want to hurry."
Clark blinked. That was the second time that someone had said–
"You know what? I need to have a chat with Burke. I'll see that Kent gets there." FP handed off two speakers to the man, who scoffed at the clever shift of the burden – but then laughed good naturedly and turned to deliver the speakers to the stage.
"Shake a leg, Kent."
Clark had to scurry to follow FP as he made his way swiftly through the labyrinth of hallways to where the truck was being unloaded. "How do you know everyone already?"
"I wasn't late joining up with the tour." FP shrugged without turning to look back at Clark.
"Um," Clark was pretty sure nobody else who was joining the crew for this part of the tour had that kind of rapport with the longer-term road crew yet. He wasn't sure how to ask again, though, or even what kind of an answer he was hoping for, so he asked his other pressing question instead: "Why do people keep saying things are on the record or off the record? Does that have something to do with whatever they've got going on with the union?"
FP looked over his shoulder and gave Clark an unreadable look. "No."
"Well, what-,"
"Clark." FP took a deep breath and let it out in a rough exhalation. "They think you're the embedded journalist."
Without waiting for a response, FP picked up his pace. Clark broke into a jog to keep up. "Wait, they think what?"
"I can't say that I blame them," FP said, dark amusement coming through in his voice as he strode through the building.
"What are you talking about? You think I'm not blending in?" Clark asked. He'd thought that he had been doing a great job looking and acting like everyone around him. "What am I doing wrong?"
"You're… trying too hard." FP spoke carefully, as if he wasn't sure how to put it into words.
"What are you talking about? You have been pointing out all day that you're moving faster than I am," Clark objected.
"It's not just about pace or getting work done. It's more like… an attitude. It's not really something specific," FP said completely unhelpfully. "And before you ask, I don't have a solution for you. It really doesn't help that everyone's looking for a journalist."
"And now that they're looking at me-,"
"Good luck shaking that rumor," FP said dryly. "Just… as long as people are looking at you, do me a favor and-,"
"Steer clear of Jughead," Clark finished. "Yeah, I will. Only I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on Special Agent Davies. So that's going to throw a wrench into the plan."
"Well, I'll try and get the guys to accept you." FP paused for a moment to clap Clark's shoulder reassuringly. "And maybe it's not a disaster. Sarah's with Brandon – and she was supposed to be our decoy. You two can just work together to make sure both jobs get done."
"You mean she and I should trade roles?" Clark asked in dismay. He had to hurry to catch up when FP started moving swiftly through the hallway once more. "I should be the decoy, and she should stick close to Special Agent Davies?"
FP's expansive shrug seemed to suggest that he thought it was an obvious solution – and perhaps a foregone conclusion at this point.
Well, maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world, Clark reflected after taking a few moments to process this new information. Maybe it would work out that simply. Maybe it would even be elegant.
They exited the back door and FP waved Clark toward the back of the truck while he made a beeline toward someone standing by the front of the truck.
"Burke! Change of plans. I've got an idea," FP called as he approached the man Clark recognized as one of the guys who called the shots for the road crew.
"Penn, you had better be onto something magical, because we are scrambling and nothing is where it should be." Burke crossed his arms, and in spite of his words Clark thought he looked awfully relaxed for someone who described himself as 'scrambling.'
Or perhaps like he didn't intend to move any more muscles than were absolutely necessary.
Work to rule without a union, Clark reflected as he moved toward the back of the truck to find out what job he was about to be assigned to now. That sounded suspiciously like it might be one small step away from total anarchy.
Or mutiny.
00000
Betty lit up when she saw Jughead in the hallway, being hustled brusquely along by Brand. "Juggie!"
Brand grabbed Betty by the shoulder and swept both teens into the small entry portion of the band's suite. Even though the hallway had been deserted, it was touching to see how alert and careful Brand was being with Jughead's security and privacy.
Betty shot Davies a grateful smile and then continued talking to Jughead, who was obviously fighting to keep a wide grin from taking over his whole face. It was adorable - he looked almost shy, but Jughead could not mask a delight so strong that it warmed Betty from the inside out. "This whole thing is amazing, isn't it?"
Jughead blinked at her for a moment, the broad smile winning the battle and taking over his face. He seemed almost as if he'd just woken up, even though it was far too late in the day for that to be the case.
"Well, sure, it is now. Hi, Betts." Jughead reached for her, and Betty leaned into his tight embrace. "You are a sight for sore eyes. How are you holding up?"
"Hi yourself." Betty smiled against Jughead's chest, noting with relief that Jughead seemed far more robust and rested than he had seemed even a day or two before over their most recent video call. The camera must not have been adding pounds, or else he was continuing to improve steadily. "And you're hilarious. I'm 'holding up' just fine, considering I'm basically just hanging out in a hotel with all of my best friends."
Brand had stiffened at Betty's unexpected appearance, but now that they were out of the hallway, he was visibly more relaxed. "Warrior queen, it is great to see you. As always."
Betty grinned up at Brand, appreciating his teasing and the familiar nickname. She felt herself start to gush: "It's great to see you too, Brand. Everyone is so excited; it's contagious. I can't wait for our very first concert. I'm officially taking photos, and right now Alice is off getting some interviews for her first article. Did you know that there's a virtual reality app? I mean, of course you do," Betty corrected herself. "You were probably fully updated before anyone else when they thought it was real this morning."
"Yeah. We heard about it." Brand's tone was still generously friendly considering that – duh – Betty should have known they'd have the inside track on that sort of information.
"Who is Alice interviewing?" Jughead asked curiously. He waved toward the main room of the band's suite. "Is she already in there?"
"No, and don't worry – she isn't going to win your contest," Betty said confidently. "She's interviewing the other security team about what they think of the mixup this morning. Then she's going to try to talk to Breaking Fast, but it sounds like they're too busy today to talk to anyone about much of anything."
"Huh." Brand had an odd expression on his face.
Oh. Maybe he was feeling redundant.
"I'm sure she would have interviewed you two, but the other team was right there when everything happened. So…" Betty watched Brand's expression carefully as she shrugged. "I'm sure she'll interview you next time."
"Good. I'd hate for her to miss the real story," Brand said with a jocular tone as his expression lightened up. Whew. "Well, I need to get this guy to the band to interview them right now, so-,"
"I know. I'm actually here because I was hoping to sit in," Betty explained. She patted her camera, which was slung around her neck. "It seemed like a good opportunity to get a few candids."
Jughead held up his own camera with a grin. "Definitely. You'd save me the trouble, and your photos would be better than anything I could take."
"That's the truth," Brand said emphatically, narrowly dodging an elbow from Jughead. "Hey! You said it, not me. I'm only agreeing with you. Do you want me to not agree with you in the future?"
"Brand-," Jughead cut himself off, clearly thinking better of whatever he'd been about to say.
"That's what I thought," Brand said triumphantly.
Betty shook her head in amusement and then led them toward Archie's room where it adjoined the primary suite; Veronica had texted her that the band had gathered there to discuss the evening and begin preparations.
"Oh, Jughead, how's Never doing?" Betty asked, turning back to face Jughead and Brand before she opened the door.
Betty knew that plans had needed to be changed abruptly at the last moment: Trigger was with Tim, while Never was staying with Mr. Andrews for the duration of the brief tour. Jughead had been pleased that Trigger would get a lot of exercise and that his training would get a good refresh, but it had bothered him that he would not be receiving regular updates on his older dog. Never, on the other hand, was officially part of Fred Andrews' rehab plan: while recovering, he would be continuing the puppy's basic training and taking her for the short walks that she currently favored.
"She's doing great." Jughead was animated as he pulled up photos on his phone of Never playing with Vegas. "This is actually Dad's phone, or else I'd have more to show you. Mr. A is spoiling her; she isn't going to want to come home."
"Ha. As if. She misses me too much for that to be an issue," Brand said with a wink.
"He bribes Never. Constantly," Jughead stage whispered.
Brand tousled Jughead's hair with a condescending air. "I do not have to bribe her to win her love away from you and the monster. She knows what's good-,"
"Bacon mostly," Jughead interrupted, giving Brand a playful glare even though he directed the words to Betty. "Sometimes hamburger."
"Only because she loves it," Brand conceded without further protest. "And that dog needs protein so she doesn't waste away. Not unlike someone else I know."
"Uh-huh." Jughead sounded unconvinced. He smiled, though.
Betty had felt warmed by the usual banter between the two, but without warning the feeling in her chest curdled – and she was plunged into a wave of longing.
She had only been on the tour for one night, it was true, but there had been radio silence so far from home. And there was far too much she could imagine happening there in her absence.
"Um… Why do you have your dad's phone?" Betty asked, desperate for any topic of conversation that would take her mind away from the dark topic of her parents' failing marriage.
"You know what, I actually don't know. Why do I have Dad's phone?" Jughead turned to Brand with an overly innocent raise of his eyebrows. "Care to comment?"
Those two. Betty was about to make a joke about the wolf pack basically being one person at times – so it really didn't matter who had which phone – only she saw Brand's expression and it made her freeze.
Brand's face barely flickered, and Jughead didn't seem to notice anything, but Betty was looking straight at him when a look of complete revulsion crossed the FBI agent's features for the space of a heartbeat.
Oh no. He must know the truth.
Brand hadn't exactly been looking at Betty when he made the face, but it seemed impossible for it to mean anything else: Brand must know that Betty was the one who had outed the Southside minors. He must know that she'd sent the information to Jughead, who had basically leapt on top of the grenade so she wouldn't have to.
Whatever was going on with Jughead's phone must have something to do with that, and there was basically no chance of that meaning anything good whatsoever.
Betty felt the blood draining from her face. She thought about making up an excuse – making an exit from the conversation and from the situation – but then she remembered that she had a job to do. The band was counting on her to take photos.
And, honestly, if Brand knew the truth, it was nothing more and nothing less than exactly that: the truth.
That look of revulsion was precisely what Betty deserved.
Betty squared her shoulders and silently berated herself to be an adult. She forced herself to make eye contact with the man who was so protective of her boyfriend – something they had in common, even if her actions had endangered Jughead.
Brand gave Betty a rueful smile that seemed to say everything: that he understood, and while he was obviously not happy with the situation, that he understood that they were still on the same side.
The rush of emotion was as overwhelming as it was confusing. Betty had more than enough adults in fraught adversarial roles with her these days and sorting out how she should feel about any of them was frankly beyond her at the moment.
"You'll have to talk to your father about that," Brand said levelly.
Jughead gave his godfather an exasperated look. "You are no help sometimes."
"I know."
Jughead gave up, turning toward the door once more. "Well, let's get this interview started."
00000
Archie watched his mother sigh yet again, and he felt his neck begin to tense.
It would be really helpful if Brand showed up, like, now.
And then the door opened and… Betty walked in.
Rats.
Only then Jughead appeared, right on her heels, a wide grin spreading over his face as he caught Archie's eye.
Archie returned the grin eagerly. Now the real fun could start.
Because everyone knew that wherever Jughead was, Brandon Davies was not far behind. Archie didn't even need to look up at the man to know he was directly behind Jughead, looking every inch a bodyguard to his godson instead of security for the band.
It was a good sign, Archie reminded himself, and as creepy as it could get, it was basically full-immersion training for Special Agent Davies. The man would be completely ready for action, no matter what came up during the tour.
Archie sneaked a peek at his mother, and he had to smother another grin when he recognized her expression. She was probably reminding herself of the exact same line, which Archie's dad had come up with and repeated over and over when they'd been busy preparing for the tour… and Special Agent Davies had been off camping with Jug.
Jughead nodded to the rest of the band, and he was suddenly all business. Betty found a spot out of the way in the room, but with a good vantage point – and Archie was delighted when she snapped a couple of pictures.
"Let's start with some easy questions," Jughead said as he set a tiny recorder onto the coffee table in the center of the room, and just like that he commanded everyone's attention without appearing to try.
Archie was impressed; he also felt himself leaning forward curiously. He'd never been officially interviewed by his best friend before.
"What surprises do you have up your sleeves for fans tonight?" Jughead asked. He looked straight at Veronica, who was already shaking her head with a light laugh as she thought about the surprise that they did indeed have planned.
"No fair. Your dad tipped you off?" Gunnar asked in a tone that indicated he thought Jughead was cheating by gathering intel. Archie knew better: Jughead was simply being a good journalist.
"No, actually…" Jughead produced a pen from behind his ear and wrote a note before he leaned toward Gunnar as if he was sharing a secret. "You just did. But it's all good; this story won't go live until after the concert. Your secrets are safe with me."
Gunnar looked both affronted at Jughead and horrified with himself.
Archie laughed at the exchange. "It's fine. We don't have to watch what we say with Jughead. And he knows us way too well for us to feed him lines, even if we wanted to. Which we don't."
"Exactly," Jughead agreed. "The whole point of being embedded is for me to understand the tour from the inside out. These interviews are to just give me some additional insights and quotes to go with what I'm already observing." Jughead held his pen up meaningfully. "So. You were about to tell me about surprises."
Veronica took the lead. "Well, as long as we're being perfectly candid, we're planning to thank the road crew-,"
The door swung open again before she could say anything else.
And there was Paul. And Morgan. And Ryan, Joey, and Dave.
Breaking Fast had apparently decided to drop by for a visit.
Brand was in motion before Paul had fully entered the room. The agent's movement was very subtle, and he made it seem like he was just moving out of the way of the door, but Archie saw that in just that motion he managed to sweep Jughead's tape recorder into his pocket and seized his pen – and by steering Jughead backward by his shoulders, Brand reoriented him ever so slightly so that it looked more like everyone was sitting around the perimeter of the room instead of fanned out around Jug for the interview.
Huh. Color Archie impressed.
They all stared at Breaking Fast expectantly, and with similarly impressive poker faces, Archie was happy to see. They might not be professionals, but nobody was going to fall down on the job. Not on day one, anyway.
00000
Sarah hurried to catch up as the band barged in on the clandestine interview – but she was too late.
"Brandon freaking Davies!"
Sarah could see Ryan grabbing Brand in a hug.
"How you been, man?" Ryan was completely oblivious to the potent 'back off' vibe that Brand was exuding.
Even Jughead took one instinctive step backwards, and Sarah could see the teen taking stock of his position and how the situation must look to the headlining band – but it seemed like Brand had effectively camouflaged the interview in under a second.
Whew.
"Ryan. Hi. It's good to see you again." Brand stiffly patted the man once and then extricated himself from the musician's wiry arms. "I'm doing just fine, thank you."
Sarah sized up everyone, since this was her first time getting a good look at most of the people in the room.
Ryan actually appeared to be thinner than Jughead, which was maybe a good sign. Or perhaps any basis for comparison with a band member was a bad sign, Sarah thought dourly. One of the band members was probably using, after all.
Stepping back from Brand, Ryan pointed over at Gunnar with a wide grin. "And you must be Cyrano!"
Gunnar skewered Ryan with an incredulous glare. "You have met me at least four times, dude. Davies, are we still trying to figure out which one of these guys is on drugs? Because-,"
"So-o-o," Brand interrupted Gunnar loudly, "what brings you here on such a busy day?"
Paul took over, and Sarah was glad to see that he looked every bit as disturbed as Gunnar over his bandmate's mistake. "Ryan, that's Gunnar – he's Archie's drummer. Honestly. Special Agent Davies, it is good to see you again. We're looking for someone you work with, so that we can ask him a few questions. I'm guessing he isn't here…?" Paul motioned around himself at Mary and the teenagers.
Brand frowned, dropping his hands possessively onto Jughead's shoulders. "Are you looking for Jon Wilson? He's right here. But I'm gonna need to know what this is all about."
Paul's eyes widened as he took in Jughead, but he recovered swiftly. "Oh! Hi. Uh, it's good to meet you, Jon. Could we, um, go somewhere? And talk?"
Jughead squirmed as every eye in the room was trained on him. Sarah understood; she had a sinking feeling about this whole thing, too. "Did Dax send you to talk to me?"
"Yes." Morgan spoke up curtly. Paul shot her a quelling look, but she ignored it and continued with an air of impatience. "If what he says is true, then we think you're the haunted one. And that means we need to do something about this before anything else happens – or that embedded journalist hears about it."
O-okay, now the staring was so intense that it was making Sarah's skin crawl – and it was clear that Jughead didn't have any answers for anyone.
"What?" Jughead stared at Morgan in disbelief.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
"Oh my god. You're haunted! That explains so much," Archie broke the silence in an overly sincere voice, staring at Jughead with wide eyes. "How did I not see it before? In hindsight, it's just so obvi-"
"Archie." Mary Andrews' voice cut through the room like a knife, silencing her son's sarcastic monologue. "That's enough."
Jughead gave Archie a quick smile to let his best friend know that he, at least, appreciated the attempt at levity. Archie winked and jutted his chin in a gesture of solidarity.
"You have got to be kidding me," Brand sputtered, and Sarah could tell he was struggling to know where to direct his ire first: at Archie, who was perilously close to blowing Jughead's cover, or at the adult members of the band who were trying to get a teenager alone to make some sort of plan for an… exorcism? Something? That part was not clear to Sarah at all.
Apparently it was not clear to Brandon either, who seemed to decide that focusing on the band first was his best bet: "You came here to fire my assistant over some superstitious crap? Based on Dax's report of what happened this morning?"
"Oh no – firing him wouldn't help anything," Ryan said earnestly. "The haunting isn't about him. Not really. It's about the tour. We think it's just focused on him this time, for whatever reason. So we couldn't fire him, even if we wanted to - the last thing we need is for that energy to just be… wandering."
Brand made a longsuffering face and started massaging his forehead.
"Look, at least we figured out who the embedded journalist is," Joey offered placatingly. "So that's a good first step."
Brand stiffened with shock, and it was lucky that the members of Breaking Fast were looking at Joey – because the rest of the teens began shooting Jughead surreptitious looks that were far too easy to interpret.
"So if we can get things under control with Jon and the haunting," Joey continued, "then maybe this time we can get ahead of the whole thing."
"He goes by Cyrano," Ryan corrected.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, man," Joey shot Jughead an apologetic look.
"O-okay. I think I get the picture. Why don't you come with me and we can have a long talk about all of this," Mary Andrews jumped in smoothly, addressing Breaking Fast. "Maybe I can help you while the band gets ready, so nothing cuts into their preparation time. This is their first concert of the tour, after all."
"Oh. Yeah, we don't want to interrupt that. We just want to talk to Cyrano, not the band. No offense," Paul said quickly. "We have some questions, and-,"
Sarah saw Mary and Brand exchange a brief look that no doubt meant something to both of them.
A moment later, Brand was making a show of shrugging helplessly while Mary stood and began ushering the band out of the room.
"Oh sure, okay, Mary. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do. Sorry, everyone. What can I say? We're on a tight schedule-," Brand said in a rush, effectively cutting off any possible protest from Breaking Fast.
"And the opening band needs this time to find their feet, and in order to do that they'll need their security team here with them. Their whole security team," Mary finished. "So let's just see if we can't figure this out on our own, shall we?"
The band didn't stand a chance.
Breaking Fast was swept out the door, and then out of the entire suite, in seconds.
Brand closed the door firmly and then turned to face everyone in the silence that the headlining band's departure left behind. He caught Sarah's eye and gave her a look that promised to fill her in later. Good.
"First thing," Brand said to the group. His serious tone commanded tense silence. "Good work keeping the cover story straight."
The tension dissolved as the teens cracked smiles, giving one another congratulatory nods. Even Gunnar seemed pleased by the praise.
"Second thing," Brand continued, his dire tone causing everyone to sober again in an instant. "Something is very wrong with this tour."
"Well, yeah. Ryan's a cokehead," Gunnar interjected.
"No. He's not. And that's actually a problem," Brand snapped at the drummer. "Because someone sent cocaine to this hotel and I have now confirmed that none of the bandmembers is using." A flurry of surprise went through the room. "That leaves us with a whole lot of questions."
"Or… is it a problem because Ryan doesn't have cocaine as an excuse for his-,"
"Gunnar, cut it out," Archie said quietly. Gunnar looked startled, but obediently stopped.
"Brand, why in the world do they think Jughead's haunted?" Veronica asked. "What happened?"
"They… are a very superstitious band." Brand folded his arms. "From what I understand, that has to do with their experiences from previous tours. It's absolutely nothing to do with us."
Sarah recognized the crossed arms as a signal that Brand was unwilling to say more on the subject… but she also recognized the look in Betty's eyes as the teen took all of this in. Betty was not about to let this go – not easily, anyway.
"Were they actually special effects?" Betty suddenly asked. "This morning, at the venue? Because you were there, weren't you, Jughead? You had to have been. That's the only reason I can think of for why Dax-,"
"And we're done here." Brand spoke so emphatically that Betty stopped in her tracks and looked chastened.
That shut down the conversation a second time.
Only… based on the expressions of literally everyone in the room, Sarah was certain that this was not going to be the end of it.
"Everyone in the band? You need to get ready; we head to the venue in just over an hour, and you have not done this before," Brand directed firmly. "So unless you want to make absolute fools of yourselves onstage, I suggest you focus."
"I need that interview, too," Jughead spoke up, clearly grateful to have a job to do and something to focus on.
"Talk while they get ready. The warrior queen can take some shots at the same time. But don't dawdle; I want us ready to move in sixty minutes, and whatever you're wearing then is what you'll be wearing onstage." Brand made a shooing motion at the band, none of whom had made any move. "Go."
Everyone snapped into action.
When Brand locked eyes with Sarah once again, she felt her stomach sink.
It was obvious that he had a lot to fill her in on. And now, based on his expression, it was becoming obvious that Sarah was not going to like what she was going to learn.
00000
FP stretched his arms over his head and rocked his head to the left and then to the right, hearing his neck pop satisfyingly.
He inhaled deeply and felt the tension leaving him as the first song kicked off.
It was happening at long last: Archie and the kids were a few feet away, playing and singing their hearts out for a sold-out crowd.
It was hard not to feel like everything had to be right in the world, at least for the duration of a single set at a single concert, FP reflected. Live music was just like that; it always had been.
From the sounds coming from the audience, it seemed that they agreed with him. It was no secret that, as opening bands go, Archie was packing a punch and drawing in fans of his own. It sounded like maybe the rest of the concert-goers were being converted into fans, too – and no wonder. This was music, and whatever had possessed Alice when she'd created those costumes had been a close cousin to genius if not the real mccoy.
The stage's lighting and that crazy VR setup made the music into a whole body experience, and FP had the distinct feeling that if he concentrated hard enough he'd be able to taste and smell the songs as well as hear and feel and see the concussive force of the beat and the rich vibrations of the instruments and vocals.
"You ready?" Burke approached FP, his grin giving it all away: he was in it for the music too.
"I was born ready."
"Were you born in time to see this particular-,"
FP laughed, cutting Burke off. "I was born before the music died. We'll just leave it at that."
Burke smirked, nodding in agreement. "It was a golden age."
"Still is," FP said, motioning toward the stage. They listened in silence through the rest of the song and the beginning of the next one. "They aren't plastic studio creations."
Burke nodded in agreement. "They're all right. Except for their very, very bad taste in working with you."
"I will tell them you said so. It'll be your gig from now on." FP grinned when Burke punched him in the shoulder. "Seriously, tomorrow it's all you."
"Nah. No way." But Burke's eyes were bright and his smile was a little too wide.
"You're picturing it."
"Nope."
"You're gonna do it. Just you wait."
FP was still grinning, several songs later, when he pointed at Burke as he bounded up the steps and positioned himself stage right.
Burke shook his head, but his expression was filled with anticipation and something like awe.
Breaking Fast was poised to go onstage next, once the stage had been rearranged for them.
They had no idea that there was one more song coming.
Archie moved across the stage and set down his guitar so that he could position himself in front of the piano that was far to one side.
A few notes played. And then a chord.
And then it was happening.
FP wasn't sure that the audience recognized the song at first, but when Archie sang out the first line, FP motioned Clark and a few of the other guys onstage.
They moved casually around instruments and between the band members – and began breaking down the set for the next band as the piano music swirled around them through the monitors.
That was when the audience seemed to realize that something unusual was happening.
The song continued to gently build, until Archie sang out the giveaway lines: "Let the roadies take the stage – pack it up and tear it down."
At that moment, the crowd caught on.
Then they started to whistle and cheer intermittently from different areas in the venue – but respectfully, so that the piano could continue to fill the hall with more and more energy.
None of the guys on the road crew could contain their grins, especially when Archie and the band saluted them over the line "you know you guys are the champs."
They were probably halfway done making adjustments to the stage setup when Archie's voice crescendoed, singing about remembering why they came. Then the whole band joined in with instrumental accompaniment.
FP raised his eyebrows and caught Clark's eye.
The young FBI trainee almost dropped the cord he was adjusting, shaking his head hard.
Huh. FP would have to work on him too.
Because it was almost his cue, and this was far too much fun not to share.
After all, sharing the experience was what live music was all about.
00000
"What is Da- uh, I mean, what is he doing?" Jughead's eyes were wide as he watched FP ignore Breaking Fast's frantic signals to stop. FP walked boldly onto the stage before the lights went down, right in the middle of – wait, why was Archie starting another song?
The set was supposed to be ending.
The band should have thanked the crowd and left the stage; then the lights should have dropped so that the road crew could silently and invisibly shift around the speakers and microphones to accommodate the change in performers.
Brand didn't seem surprised at all, though. He folded his arms and cocked his head curiously. "Well, I have one guess. Do you know this song, kid?"
Jughead listened to the piano. "It's… familiar?"
"I'm gonna go way out on a limb and say that this is Archie's surprise. I think the band left a few things out when they told you about their plan to thank the roadies. Such as…" Brand nodded toward the roadies maneuvering carefully around the performers onstage, "including the road crew in their gesture."
"What?"
"Listen for a minute. If you've actually heard this song before, you'll get it." Brand waited.
And waited.
The two were situated just offstage to watch Archie and the band perform, and then escort the band back to their backstage area to change and get water and snacks. Then they'd all return to this spot, close to the action but invisible to the audience, to enjoy most of Breaking Fast's performance.
Everything had been going precisely according to plan. Until now.
Jughead made a face. "It's Jackson Browne... I know I've heard the song, but it– oh. Oh, wait, I've seen a video of him performing this live. But-,"
"Archie never did know when to quit. He's on track to - oh wow, he's really going to-," Brand cut himself off when FP leaned in and took over Archie's microphone.
Jughead's jaw dropped.
The crowd howled with excitement as FP took over vocals.
"Brand?" Jughead asked weakly.
"Yeah, kid?" Brand was wide-eyed now too over the unexpected turn of events, though he was smirking and seemed like he might even be enjoying the show as FP belted out lyrics to a cheering crowd.
"I get it now. I finally understand why he searched for me so long, and why he wanted me alive and healthy."
Brand looked down sharply at Jughead. "Uh, that sounds like it should be a good thing… but what's with the past tense?"
"He obviously wanted to kill me himself. Right here, right now."
Jughead wasn't sure why Brand stared at him blankly for a moment, and then guffawed.
Brand did not stop laughing, either.
"If I hadn't literally met your parents, I'd think you didn't have any," Jughead declared, pointing up at Brand accusingly. "You obviously have no understanding whatsoever how humiliat-,"
Brand slapped Jughead on the back hard enough that the teen stumbled two steps forward.
Or, Jughead realized when Brand grunted in dismay and grabbed him by one shoulder to stop the teen from falling further, perhaps the slap hadn't been that hard.
Maybe Jughead was still troublingly unsteady on his feet.
"Hey." An angry voice interrupted them from far too close. "Are you all right, Cyrano?"
Dax was muscling his way into their personal space – and he appeared to be attempting to stare down Brand, though it looked really strange since Brand was still chuckling.
Then Brand's hand seized tightly onto Jughead's shoulder and yanked him backward about two steps – but then stopped him short, before Jughead could recover enough to get his feet under him.
Jughead stumbled again, and this time Brand gave him a rough shake before steadying him. Then Brand draped his arm heavily over Jughead's shoulders and pulled him awkwardly into his armpit.
"Everything's fine, Dax. Why do you ask?" Brand's chuckle gave way to a relaxed smirk.
Jughead twisted his ribcage and instinctively struggled in the uncomfortable grip and position, elbowing Brand hard in the process.
Brand shook him again, this time hard enough to rattle his teeth, and then his arm came up around Jughead's chest as he put him into a loose, almost-but-not-quite-playful chokehold.
Jughead felt dizziness wash over him; Brand's grip tightened again in response, and Jughead froze before his godfather got any ideas about shaking him a third time. That hurt.
"You had enough, kid?" There was nothing but mild amusement in Brand's tone.
"I've certainly had enough." Dax stepped up so close to them that Jughead shrank back against Brand to make room. "Let him go. Now."
Jughead couldn't see much from his position, but it certainly didn't look like anyone was noticing the confrontation as the surprise song went on – and on – and Breaking Fast seemed to be a lot happier with whatever Archie was doing now that they'd noticed the stage being rearranged while the song played out.
They probably were still on schedule, since the road crew were literally doing their work during the song, in between taking turns at the mic to give energetic vocal solos.
In fact, as moments went for establishing their cover story, this was kind of perfect. It was egregious and public, and at the same time Dax would be able to see in a glance why Brand thought he could get away with manhandling his employee.
Correction: why Brand was getting away with manhandling his employee.
"Don't you have work to do?" Brand asked Dax, and his tone had gone cold. Jughead felt his godfather's muscles shift around him and his own stance moved forward slightly as Brand made a show of readying himself for violence. "Harassing other security personnel seems like it should be outside of your job description."
Someone cleared their throat. Jughead's neck twinged as he whipped his head up, fully expecting to see that Dax had backup.
Uh-oh; it was worse than that.
It was Sarah Quinn. And she looked like she was about to fight Dax for the right to deck Brand first.
"I might say the same about your job description, Davies," Agent Sarah said. Her tone was venomous, even as she shot Jughead a questioning look that asked if he was okay.
Jughead didn't reply; he had no idea what the right thing to say was – and he was completely distracted by the feeling of Brand's muscles turning to stone around him.
Sarah intervening was apparently not something that Brand had anticipated either.
"Jon, let's go backstage." Sarah seemed to draw her own conclusions when nobody answered her, and she reached for Jughead. "Brandon can handle getting the band back there on his own."
Before Brand could say anything, Jughead was being tugged – unsuccessfully – by Agent Quinn against his godfather's death grip.
Well, that was a simple way of de-escalating things without blowing their cover; Jughead nodded quickly before he ducked his head as submissively as he could and prepared to leave with Agent Sarah.
Except Brand didn't let go.
"Quince," Brand said coldly and evenly, "get lost."
Jughead almost panicked then – his mind went blank when he tried to come up with the name Agent Sarah was using on tour. He'd just have to keep his mouth shut until someone said–
"My name is Quincy." Sarah said it with exasperation, as if she'd corrected Brand a hundred times before, but the edge in her voice sounded serious.
Dax had taken a step back when Agent Sarah inserted herself into the conversation. Jughead wanted to sigh with relief, and now he had a name for Agent Quinn at least, but Brand was starting to twist his right arm up behind him, and–
Jughead managed to bite his lip and keep his expression blank, but he was suddenly in a submission hold and Brand was drawing him painfully backward – away from Sarah and Dax.
"Jon?" Sarah looked down at Jughead worriedly, and seemed to be searching his eyes for any indication that he actually needed help.
Jughead felt Brand's grip on his arm quirk threateningly. It would not take much more pressure to do serious damage. Jughead shook his head at Sarah, hoping his expression made it clear that he needed her to back off. Now.
"It's all good. I've got work to do – we both do. I'll catch up with you later." Jughead bit out the words while he moved cautiously backward with Brand and tried not to aggravate his godfather's hold on his arm. "Uh, thanks. But seriously, it's cool."
The band had finally – finally – finished their extra number and a sudden swell of people surrounded them as Archie led the band offstage and the roadies bounded exultantly out of the spotlights and back to their usual places.
They were separated from Agent Sarah and Dax by the surge of bodies.
Brand released Jughead's arm and hustled him into the nearest room in the dense warren of spaces that made up the backstage area. He closed the door tightly behind them.
"Are you okay?" Brand demanded as soon as they were alone. He grabbed Jughead's arm to inspect it. "Did I hurt you? You're a natural, kid; that was brilliant."
"No. No, of course not." Jughead took a quick step backward, feeling bewildered. Everything was shifting – Brand switching on their cover story in an instant, then switching it off on a dime – too quickly to fully process. Brand let him move away without resistance.
"You never hurt me," Jughead continued. "Not unless you mean to."
Brand's expression went completely blank. Oh, crap.
"I, um, I mean-,"
Jughead broke off, training his eyes on the floor and trying to come up with something – anything – that he could say to walk his statement back. He was going to screw everything up if he spooked Brand.
Brand stared down at Jughead for several tense seconds, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, it was a flat observation: "You're shaking."
Jughead lowered his chin, determined to turn this around before Brand put the kibosh on their plan – and then everything else fell apart, his dad had to stay away from them, and they couldn't effectively gather intel about the mysterious shooter.
Without their plan, they'd be hamstrung – not to mention sitting ducks.
"Good." Jughead narrowed his eyes and filled his voice with bravado. "Method acting, right? If you believe it, then they'll buy it. Especially if I-,"
"If you what?" Brand demanded. His blank expression disappeared, and Brand was suddenly in Jughead's face, his voice intense. "Have flashbacks? Nightmares? Panic attacks? Collapse on the job? What are we talking, Jones? Because now is the time to level with me."
Jughead tried to come up with a response, but Brand began talking again before he could think of anything.
"If the reason you're so brilliant is because you're not acting," Brand ground out the words, his eyes drilling into Jughead's, "then we're going to pivot. Right now, before anything happens. So tell me. What are we talking about, kid?"
Okay; that helped. Brand had spelled out his worries clearly enough that Jughead now knew exactly what his godfather needed to hear.
Jughead took a deep breath and looked Brand straight in the eye.
"We're talking about if I can turn on the panic attacks on cue. If I can shake on command like I've got the DTs." Jughead smirked as coolly as he could manage. "If I can fool you into thinking I'm a scared kid who's all alone on this tour and will follow you into hell because I believe I have no other options. Because if I can do that, then I can fool Dax. And anyone else."
The unreadable expression was abruptly back. Brand's nostrils flared.
Oops. Something about Jughead's words had upset Brand again.
"You disagree?" Jughead asked, trying desperately to sound belligerent instead of unsure of himself.
Brand shook his head. "No. As it happens, I do not. I'm just… not completely sold yet. So let's keep working on it. Together. And you let me know the moment any of this gets too real."
Jughead's shoulder slumped with relief. The plan was still on. At least for now.
"Yeah. I will, Brand."
"All right." Brand reached out cautiously and hesitated for just a moment before he tousled Jughead's hair. "Good."
Jughead felt himself brace against the physical contact, which was disconcerting. He forced himself to relax into it. "Anyway, we've got work to do, Brand. The band is-,"
"Yeah." Brand sounded profoundly relieved as he affectionately cupped the base of Jughead's skull for a moment and then rubbed his palm briskly over his godson's back. "Let's go congratulate them and get 'em home. That was crazy, huh?"
Jughead blinked, not sure what part of the whole situation Brand meant. Then he remembered: the extra song, bringing the road crew into the performance, surprising everyone – and FP singing a solo for a sold out crowd.
"Yeah." Jughead finally cracked a genuine smile. His shoulders relaxed for real. "I've got an article to finish tonight. And, in light of recent events, it needs some serious revision."
"You bet." Brand grinned, and somehow he managed to seem even more relieved. This time when Brand gave Jughead a quick squeeze, it was easy to relax into his godfather's warmth.
Then, squaring their shoulders, they headed out of the tiny room to face the rest of the concert together.
00000
Everything is taking shape! And we had a performance happen! (yay!) I hope you enjoyed, and I will love hearing any and all thoughts and impressions. I have some very consuming commitments over the next three weeks or so, which means I'll be on something of the same pattern (four weeks or so?) before the next chapter will be ready, but it's already spooling out onto the page and I'm excited to see how it comes together! Mid-July and following should be easier for me to post a bit more (I hope) - and I hope you're having a lovely week and summer (or winter!).
Wishing you all good things,
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