Another chapter, hooray! And it's sunny and nice outside, which is amazing. :)
Thank you all so much for faithfully reading along. I've loved your reviews as well, and drew encouragement (as ever!) from your thoughtful notes on the last chapter!
Woodscolt215, thanks for continuing to read, I'm so glad you're enjoying things heating up and converging. I am as well, and look forward to it all colliding!
LeafGreene01, I love your reactions - and I agree that the whole tour is on the edge of being out of control in a number of ways, not all of which have to do with evil intentions. It feels stressful to me as well, for the band members and everyone trying to keep it all in one piece!
Natureliesbeneath, I love that you laughed at the line about two grown men (I think that poor Jughead was taken aback in part because it was so accurate!), and I love that you've got your eye not only on the case and the wolf pack working together on that - but also how their work is bringing them face to face with a lot of unpleasant dynamics they have been avoiding. I also love that you're ready for the story to bring it on. :) I am too, and I'm also really curious how everything plays out with Dax as he keeps nudging himself into a Brand-like role. I hope you like this chapter just as much!
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
"We're going rock climbing?" Betty nodded her approval. "I mean, anything that gets us a little distance from this-," Betty motioned around herself at the crowded suite, "-would sound good right about now. But that actually sounds fun."
Kevin was curled almost into a ball in a large chair on the balcony, a large set of headphones clamped over his ears as he typed what appeared to be an entire novel into his phone.
Archie and Gunnar were arguing heatedly about changes to the set list behind a closed door to their shared bedroom – a door that was blocking a lot less of their debate than they no doubt assumed.
SAC Wilson, Sheriff Keller, Hermione Lodge, and Mary Andrews had taken over the girls' bedroom for what was turning into a marathon meeting after Mrs. A had issued an angry summons to the FBI.
Apparently some sort of executive decisions had been made about the tour that she disagreed with, and if there was one thing Mrs. A really did not tolerate, that was being overruled.
It was ridiculous. All they needed was Brand and FP throwing down in the final room off the shared area to make it a complete madhouse. And, realistically, Betty was not at all sure that throwdown was not happening elsewhere in the hotel.
Escaping from Betty's own family tension to the tour was suddenly feeling a whole lot like going from the frying pan into the fire.
"I mean, it's indoor wall climbing. It's just at a gym around the corner from the hotel," Veronica amended, clearly less impressed than Betty. "But I agree; it sounds like fun. Not to mention, some kind of favors were called in so we'll have the place to ourselves."
"Well, both security teams will be there. And potentially both bands as well," Alice said more dubiously. Then she brightened: "Although that still probably means I'll have a lane in the pool all to myself."
"I cannot wait to see how much stronger we are now that we've been training," Veronica added. "Climbing is a serious workout. I bet we kick some butt."
"Whose butt exactly?" Betty asked incredulously. "Archie's working out like crazy these days, and the security teams set this whole thing up for 'teambuilding,' which means they assume that everyone on the team is fit enough to socialize while literally scaling the walls."
"Then what, your goal is to beat Jones to the top, then? Child's play," Alice said lightly, with a smirk. "My guess is you'll be racing each other. And Gunnar and Kevin, maybe. If they can keep up."
Kevin raised an eyebrow. Betty eyed him curiously; perhaps he was not actually listening to anything in his headphones.
Which was maybe wise. Things were shifting on a dime, and everyone was scrambling to keep up with the changes as they came.
The door to the boys' bedroom swung open, interrupting Betty's musing.
"So, are we ready to get to the venue?" Archie asked, his expression bright and eager.
Gunnar looked happy, too, as if he was anticipating a pleasant surprise.
They must have worked out the set list.
God only knew what the band would be trying to pull off in concert this evening. Betty glanced swiftly at Veronica, who would be right in the middle of whatever impulsive performance Archie had dreamt up this time.
Veronica was smiling as if she was looking forward to whatever the boys had cooked up.
Man, sometimes Betty really envied Veronica's confidence.
She had to hide a smile when she noticed Kevin giving Archie and Gunnar serious side eye; that was slightly more relatable.
"You," Archie declared, pointing at Kevin with a grin and a near-manic gleam in his eye. "We are going to need you front and center tonight. This is going to be-,"
"Epic?" Kevin finished dryly, giving Archie a very fake smile. "Can't wait. That is, if my dad doesn't yank me straight off the tour this afternoon."
A door swung open. The adults stood in the doorway of the other bedroom, and Betty took in the fact that both Mrs. Andrews' and Sheriff Keller's expressions seemed altogether too serious.
Score one for SAC Wilson, she supposed.
Wilson herself had a completely neutral expression. Mrs. Lodge looked thoughtful, but not nearly as displeased as the other parents.
"O-oh no," Kevin drawled the two words sarcastically, feigning distress over having to leave the tour. "So soon, Dad? But I was just about to be asked to perform in front of a massive crowd with completely inadequate preparation. How could we even think of missing that?"
"Calm down, Kevin. We're staying, and you'll perform. For now." Sheriff Keller folded his arms.
As if the gesture were contagious, the other adults folded their arms as well.
Kevin's headphones clattered loudly to the floor. "What? Are you kidding me right now?"
Tom motioned jerkily for Kevin to follow him out of the suite. "We'll talk in our room."
Kevin shot Archie one last aggrieved look as he left the suite. "Andrews, whatever you're planning, it had better not be embarrassing."
"Have faith." Archie was still smiling confidently enough that it suddenly occurred to Betty that something else was odd about the whole scene.
Archie had not been worried that the tour would be canceled.
He hadn't seemed worried that Kevin would leave the tour, either.
Huh.
Courtesy of her parents, Betty had a little too much experience seeing what it looked like when someone had hidden leverage in a situation and showed their hand by exuding a little too much confidence.
It certainly looked as though Archie had some kind of leverage. And it was not making the adults happy, either, unless Betty was reading the room completely wrong.
Well… if it kept the band intact and the tour going, Betty would not object. She was not looking forward to going home. Besides, if they left the tour, who knew how far away from Riverdale Brand and FP might take Jughead to continue his recuperation?
Betty's hand went to her back pocket, where the letter from Jughead was folded away safely.
No; it was much better that they all see the tour through.
00000
"Why doesn't Dax want me here?" FP asked Brand in a low voice. The two men were looking up – and in unison, both winced. "And who thought this was a good idea?"
Jughead was clinging to the underside of a sharp outcropping high above them, and his increasingly shaky grip on the too-small handholds within his reach was becoming painful to watch.
The harness would catch him, of course, but watching the teen struggle to climb an advanced path up the wall was bothering both men more than they had anticipated.
"Eh, Dax is playing too deep a game. I haven't the foggiest why he wants you gone, but I say we keep you right here for as long as it's bugging him. Or at least until Jones has both feet back on terra firma," Brand replied just as quietly.
"You're sure about Dax." FP silently acknowledged to himself that it wasn't really a question. Brand had made no bones about the fact that his instincts were firing overtime and that he was completely certain that Dax was the epicenter of whatever was brewing on the tour.
"He was there when Breaking Fast canceled the concert two years ago; that was the last nail in the coffin. He's our guy." Brand didn't look at FP; they were trying not to look too chummy, even though their cover certainly allowed for them to view Dax as a common enemy right about now.
FP cleared his throat; he'd begun wondering if he was allergic to this building.
At the sound, four pairs of eyes snapped up to glare at him. Because, of course, making an enemy of Dax meant making a number of additional enemies in one fell swoop. The whole security team seemed to have decided that Brand and FP were unwelcome in the gym, solely on the basis of Dax's dislike of them.
Or maybe their cover story had been obnoxious enough to do that all on its own.
"The insurance policy wasn't his. The payout didn't go to him," FP felt compelled to point out the obvious once again.
"Still." Brand rubbed the back of his neck. "He was there and it's shaping up oddly again. Did Jones tell you why he vetoed canceling the tour?"
"Nope. Radio silence." FP stared at Jughead's shaking legs as the boy reached out blindly around the tip of the jutting portion of the wall. He willed his son not to fall. "He's busy."
"Obviously." Brand's jaw sounded set. "Left, kid. Left. You're almost-,"
Both men exhaled when Jughead's hand closed on the grip and he was able to steady himself enough that his legs stopped visibly quivering.
"That's the way!" Dax shouted from the ground, where he was – naturally – the one belaying the teen. "You're nearly there. Keep your center of gravity close to the wall and you'll have it."
"Idiot," Brand breathed. "That's not gonna get the kid out from under that section."
"Eh," FP started to respond, but held his breath instead as Jughead somehow launched himself up and around the outcropping.
It was a miracle when his right hand landed on a generous hold.
Brand's body jerked in an almost imperceptible movement of celebration. "Yes, kid. That's how you do it. Get past it quickly so you don't exhaust yourself."
FP let his breath out slowly and evenly. "He's doing alright for himself."
"Yup. All things considered."
"You do need to explain the latest game to me, though." FP kept his expression neutral. "He's taking dives, isn't he? Hiding his training and what strength he's gotten back?"
"Yes."
Brand's simple agreement surprised FP; for once he'd hit the nail on the head.
"Why make that a game?" FP asked. "That's nothing more than part of our cover story. By making it a game you're making it more complicated.
"Well, Jones does 'complicated.' You've seen him when he panics, and you've seen him when he steps up." Brand's tone was cajoling. "Come on, FP; you know the answer to this one."
No. He really didn't.
FP considered it carefully, though.
Brand huffed a near-silent laugh. "The kid does well if he's aimed at a clear target with rules and measurements. Checkpoints along the way. He falls apart when he isn't sure what to do, or why he's doing it. It isn't an exact science, but if you make anything into a game your odds are real good of getting MacGyver out of him – instead of a panic attack."
FP blinked, the truth of the observation hitting him hard. He definitely should have pieced that together sooner about Jughead.
"Feeling stupid yet?" Brand probably wasn't smirking, but FP would have to look at him to be sure. There was certainly a smirk in his tone.
"You see things in him. You know how to work with him," FP conceded measuredly. "If you know a way to keep him from panicking, I'm all for that."
Brand was silent, and this time FP was sure he was smirking.
FP watched as Jughead finally summitted the wall and slapped the bar at the top. "So if that's the game, then tell me…"
"Yeah?" There was still a smirk in Brand's voice.
The teen's hand flashed twice in a specific motion. Maybe three times.
"What's the number system for?" FP tried to parse what he'd just seen. "Was that a three?"
"I think it was an eight." Brand's voice was suddenly lower and tight. "Maybe a thirteen. I'm not entirely sure from this far away. It's how many points he thinks he's earning by taking a hit. Or a dive."
"Is that a high number in your game?" FP felt his own muscles tense in response to Brand's explanation.
"Yeah. That's really high."
"Wait. Does that mean he's going to do something stup-,"
FP didn't even get the words out before Jughead was plummeting toward the floor,
00000
Moments earlier
00000
Archie pushed off from the wall one last time and then landed nimbly on his feet from his swift rappel. He high-fived Veronica, who had belayed him, and then glanced up to see how Jughead had fared on the other side of the climbing gym.
Jughead was nearly at the top, and had apparently made it past the tricky portion that had made Archie raise his eyebrows. He'd have to find out later how Jughead had managed it.
He wasn't sure he'd have managed it himself, and Archie was more than satisfied with the shape he was in.
Archie had somehow gotten the impression that things were fairly rough for Jug – in terms of his health, and also interpersonally between him and FP. Maybe also between him and Brand. Their stupid codes aside, there was more pushing around – literal pushing in some cases – going on than Archie had gotten used to seeing between them.
Well, maybe that was a good sign; it could indicate that Jughead was fighting back for a change. Maybe as Jughead recovered physically, he was setting better boundaries with his father and godfather by doing some pushing of his own. Neither of the adults would like that, Archie was pretty sure, but it was probably a good thing.
As he watched, Jughead reached the top of the wall and slapped the bar resoundingly.
Then, obscuring most of the motion with his body, Jughead flashed a quick hand signal toward the ground.
Hm. That had to be meant for Davies. Archie looked over at Brand who, sure enough, was watching Jughead like a hawk while he chatted with FP.
So… maybe Jughead was not creating new and healthier boundaries. Maybe it was just one more bizarre and twisted form of bonding between members of the wolf pack.
Or maybe there had been trouble, but it had all been resolved, considering how chummy Jughead and Brand had been the night before.
Archie frowned in frustration. He simply could not seem to figure out what was going on, even when it was playing out directly in front of him.
And then, in those few seconds while Archie was looking at Brand, a movement in the corner of his eye had him startling back to face the climbing wall.
As he watched in shock, Jughead fell down the wall – the back of his skull impacting with a crack where it jutted out, and then his limp body tumbling the rest of the way until, mercifully, Dax stepped forward and broke the last of his fall.
Not that falling into Dax's grip looked a whole lot better than hitting the mat. Jughead's hands flailed up to grab at the larger man before it was obvious he was not falling further.
But as Archie fumbled with his harness, unclipping frantically so he could get to his best friend, he hoped Dax had made all the difference and that Jughead was unharmed.
As Archie took off at a sprint, he had just enough time to notice something curious: even though the other security team had immediately swarmed Dax to try and help, neither Brand nor FP were making a move toward Jughead.
Seriously. Archie had no clue at all what went on in any of their heads.
As Archie skidded to a halt a few feet from Dax, he caught glimpses of his best friend between the shoulders of the security team surrounding him.
Archie was about to shove past the two men in front of him when he saw Jughead's spine arch – and then it looked as though his friend went limp in Dax's arms.
"Get back!" Dax was suddenly issuing orders, and Archie's feet obeyed before he'd even fully registered the common. "Give him space. I think he just needs some air, but that means letting some get to him." Dax looked around the gym distractedly. "Where is Breaking Fast, anyway? Aren't they supposed to be here by now?"
That was when FP and Brand bothered themselves to come over. Archie shot them an annoyed look.
"Is he conscious?" FP demanded; it was actually a little reassuring to see that he'd gone into scary-Serpent mode. His tone caused the other security team to scatter a little more.
"He. Needs. Air. Step back." Dax tried to stare down FP.
Ha.
Archie was shocked when FP narrowed his eyes – but still took a half step back. It was clearly calculated to be the barest possible compliance, but even that was a lot more acquiescence than Archie had expected.
It also looked like Brand was signaling FP to step back even further.
Oy. Those two were complete idiots sometimes. They normally haunted his best friend's every step, and now that something bad had happened they weren't even going to make sure that Jughead was actually okay?
Archie shoved forward with more determination this time. "He works for me; I'm responsible for him."
He had no way of knowing for sure what transpired behind him, but after an awkwardly long pause, FP grunted and muttered something like "alright, then."
All right, then.
Archie felt his resolve harden; he would do what the rest of the wolf pack was apparently incapable of doing and make sure Jughead was okay. That his best friend got healthy and stayed healthy. That nothing else screwed up his best friend's life and nobody but nobody kicked him – yet again – while he was down.
And it looked as though Jughead was really down.
Dax was giving Archie a cold, assessing look.
It was adorable that the man thought he could intimidate Archie so easily.
Archie met Dax's gaze evenly. It was obvious when the man clocked Archie's response; his eyebrows shot up and he looked disconcerted for a moment. Dax must not have realized that everyone had a pretty high tolerance for intimidation tactics around here.
Jughead stirred in Dax's grip, groaning quietly. "I'm okay. Just… should've eaten more. I've got granola bars in my backpack in the locker room."
Everyone seemed to relax at once. That included Archie, and he felt a flash of shame as he recalled being angry backstage when he'd seen the adults have that same reaction to Jughead during his concert.
"You heard Cyrano. He's fine. I'm taking him to the locker room; he can regroup there in private. You all get some climbing in now, because we've got work to do in about two hours." Dax was moving before he'd finished speaking.
Archie scurried to follow.
FP and Brand did not move.
Idiots. Archie shot them a quick glare, and turned his back on them to follow Dax.
That was when two hands dropped onto Archie's shoulders and jerked him to a stop.
"He needs air." Brand's tone was low and had a deadly undercurrent that Dax could only hope to someday emulate. Archie felt the hair on his neck raise at the sensation of his body responding as if he was in imminent danger.
Darn Brand and his complete willingness to do serious damage if anyone so much as breathed funny around Jughead – or, in this case, got a little more worried than Brand deemed necessary.
Archie sighed at his own thought process: if Brand was stopping him from following, then the man must actually believe that it would be better for Jughead if they gave him space. God only knew why or how that was the case, but Archie had to admit that he believed that much about Davies.
Brand's single-minded devotion to Jughead really did make it annoyingly difficult to hate him. Simple hatred would have been so much simpler.
Archie yanked his shoulders free, but made no further move to follow Dax.
00000
"I am cursed, aren't I?" Jughead moaned. He chuckled weakly, but Dax did not seem amused.
"I don't know about that, but you certainly had multiple things go wrong simultaneously just now. That should not have happened." Dax looked furious. "It's even possible that someone wants you to believe you're cursed."
Which was a fair assessment; after all, Jughead had managed to surreptitiously gather enough slack to fall in a dramatic drop and make himself look conspicuously weak after climbing the challenging wall.
That was one part of the puzzle.
Jughead had not expected the drop to completely sever his connection to the ropes, dropping him much further than he'd intended.
Or to find himself revisiting that obnoxious shelf of imitation rock face at full speed, head first, and blacking out for at least a few moments.
The next thing Jughead remembered was blinking up at Dax, who was cradling him in his arms and grimacing in what looked like pain and anger.
That had been an inspired moment for Jughead; he'd suddenly had a flash to Brand's more aggressive days and how their bonding had accelerated whenever Jughead had gotten hurt.
Taking a chance, Jughead had scrabbled at Dax's shoulders as if he still felt like he was falling, and it seemed to have worked: the man's expression had morphed from anger into a familiar mask of protective concern as he'd tightened his grip reassuringly.
Now Jughead would need to see how this played out.
"Why would anyone want me to believe I'm cursed?" Jughead asked. This seemed like a promising opportunity to fish for information.
"Well… some folks are trying to get the tour canceled." Dax's expression darkened. "If the band decides that you're really cursed and that it's putting you into serious danger, those folks might just get their wish."
Jughead tried not to react; Dax had been openly in favor of canceling the tour. He'd been actively trying to convince the band.
This was a confusing twist. Had Dax changed his mind? Or was there an even deeper game afoot?
"You know what?" Dax suddenly looked thoughtful, and then he began to smile. "I bet with your smarts and moxie we could turn the tables on whoever's trying to pull all of this. We could smoke 'em out and keep this tour on track."
Um.
Jughead appreciated Dax's help, and the man seemed amazingly willing to step in on his behalf in a host of ways, but something about a plan that almost necessitated using Jughead as bait for someone who wanted to cause him serious injury in order to get the tour shut down sounded… well, a whole lot less appealing than Dax apparently expected it to sound.
It was a good thing that Jughead didn't believe in the curse and he knew that his fall had been mostly his own doing.
It was also helpful that Dax's stated purpose was conveniently aligned with his own goals for the tour, now that Archie and Jughead had a pact that they would both do everything within their power to make sure that the tour was completed successfully.
"Although… and I know this might not be what you want to hear… but I can't help wondering if it's a coincidence that Davies and Penn were both in the gym today," Dax continued hesitantly. "You might be able to change my mind about them, but it would take some doing. They are at the top of my suspect list."
Oh, good grief. What a disaster.
Or… maybe it was a golden opportunity?
Jughead kept his expression neutral while he tried to think through all the possible ways this could play out.
Maybe it would work in their favor. After all, regardless of what Dax thought of Brand and FP, or even if he had hidden ulterior motives, Jughead had resources and information that the head of security did not know about. That put Jughead in a perfect position to play along. He could take advantage of Dax's motives – whatever those were – for his own purposes.
Moreover, aiming Dax at Brand and FP might just help Jughead predict and anticipate Dax's actions. He could steer the man wherever he pleased.
Besides, Jughead reflected as Dax examined him swiftly for injury (eerily channeling Brand once again), it was completely possible that the man was simply doing the best he could to protect the tour, the bands, and even Jughead.
In that case, it might be a fantastic move to team up and work together. They'd crack the case, share the victory, and maybe Jughead would have to seriously consider additional new options for his future career.
Because when everything was going his way and he was in control of the information and the situation?
Undercover work was actually fun.
"No. No way. They would never do something like that." Jughead made his voice uncertain, and he protested a little too vehemently. He hesitated, practically feeling Dax's anticipation as he drew the moment out. "Would they? I mean… do you really think that they could… If you hadn't been there, I could have gotten seriously hurt."
Dax studied Jughead pityingly and spoke quietly and gently. "I don't know about your fall. Not for sure. What I do know is that they've crossed lines already, and they've done that where I could see them. I'm not speculating when I say that they're capable of hurting you."
Jughead drew his brows down and together, and it was surprisingly easy to project that he was both unsure of himself and resistant to Dax's notion. He made his tone stubborn this time: "I can handle them."
"Sure you can, Cyrano." Dax grinned affectionately. "There is no doubt in my mind. You're a force of nature. But… those two outweigh you and they've got mean streaks a mile wide. Anyone can see that."
Jughead was surprised by Dax's adamance. FP and Brand must really be selling their cover story.
"Well, then, is it really a good idea to try and turn the tables on them?" Jughead figured it was time to act nervous about playing bait in any plan Dax had in mind. "I mean, what if-,"
"Oh, no. No, no. You wouldn't be alone. I'd have your back. Completely." Dax leaned forward and his tone was soothing. "I wouldn't let anyone near enough to hurt you. Not gonna happen."
It was the promise that Brand refused to give, time and again. Brand swore he'd come for Jughead, no matter what; he never promised that he could keep Jughead safe enough that he wouldn't have to come after his godson.
Jughead smiled gratefully, nodding even at the blatant untruth. Dax must not have learned that lesson yet.
Hopefully the man would not have an opportunity to learn it on this tour.
00000
"How did you know they weren't a threat?" SAC Wilson demanded, folding her arms. "You made the call before anyone knew who it was."
Brand and FP exchanged glances.
"You also let Dax remove Jughead from the premises of the gym without medical attention – or even writing up an incident report. What do you know about that that you're not telling me? Because you cannot convince me it is anything but shockingly uncharacteristic behavior on your parts."
This time Sarah leaned forward to peer at Brand and FP, her long shiny hair slipping distractingly around her shoulders. Apparently she hadn't thought too hard about that little detail until now.
"And you have a theory about insurance fraud that is supported by exactly no evidence? Now…" SAC Wilson trailed off and studied them unhappily, "...given that you really seem like you have access to information that it should be impossible for you to know, I'd be willing to extend some credulity on this point. But you need to give me something that I can use to justify directing the investigation that way."
There was a long silence.
"Anything." SAC Wilson's tone was clipped; it was apparent that she was losing patience.
The silence continued. Dang it, they were not prepared for the turn this conversation had taken.
"I'm not asking for a full confession. I just want something I can stamp on the paperwork when they inevitably scrutinize these decisions as they build their case for canning me before I can gracefully extricate enough to retire," SAC Wilson said, not bothering to hide her irritation. "So. How did you know Sweet Pea and Joaquin were the Serpents spotted outside of the venue?"
They had not known that.
Tim had called Wilson, frantic over the teen's disappearance, and that was their first clue that Sweet Pea might be one of the Serpents who had been seen. Within an hour of that phone call, Kevin had reported that he'd received a text: Joaquin wanted to meet up with him, away from the adults.
Sheriff Keller was stony faced about the whole thing and had made a comment about being held hostage on this tour while people took potshots at his son.
From what Brand could see, Tom was not wrong.
Both of the young Serpents had been picked up and reluctantly escorted back to Riverdale by Clark. It was not great for the cover story – they really needed Clark present on the tour, playing reporter – but someone had needed to do it, and the other options had not been promising.
Sarah Quinn had refused to leave Brand's side, citing the quickly evolving situation and the myriad ways that an assassin (an assassin?) could get to Davies. She clearly had wild delusions of grandeur, though Brand had to admit it was surprisingly pleasant to be at the center of her fantasy.
FP had refused to go anywhere near Sweet Pea. The man had been awfully convinced that the only reason the teen had shown up was because he'd been trying to get FP's attention.
Brand supposed that it was possible FP was exactly right and the teen would be dumb enough to run away from the sweetest gig he was ever going to get, jeopardizing his entire future yet again, simply because he was anxious about the Serpent King being angry with him.
The fanaticism ran deep with those Serpents, and the teenagers in the gang were no exception.
And oh, was FP furious with Sweet Pea for what he'd done to Jones in the name of Serpent loyalty.
Brand was angry as well, but he reserved his actual rage for Tall Boy.
FP saw it a little differently. Apparently betrayal was one thing; FP could understand Tall Boy's motivations and had something approaching a handle on his admittedly murderous attitude toward the sick man.
Misguided loyalty, however, was apparently what really set FP off. Or maybe he saw Sweet Pea's version of events as a false claim that his betrayal was actually born of loyalty.
Honestly, Brand wasn't sure FP saw those two possibilities as distinct at this point – Sweet Pea's insistence that he hadn't meant any harm and that he had only meant to help FP seemed to have put the Serpent King on edge more than anything else.
Maybe that was because it bespoke a lack of repentance. It might even sound to FP like Sweet Pea was saying he'd do it all over again – that he did not regret his actions. Or maybe it even sounded like a threat: like he might try something like that again in the future.
Who knew; the old man was seeing enough red that he was probably not seeing a whole lot else.
Brand could have told FP that there was no veiled meaning and no implied threat, though. Sweet Pea was an uprooted kid who was scared witless that his hero was rejecting him; the teen would have sworn any oath without hesitation, taken any punishment, if FP would only look at him.
But FP would not.
And, to be fair, Sarah was supporting that decision to the hilt. She was so in favor of it, in fact, that it suggested to Brand that she didn't think FP would be able to control his anger if he were to come face to face with Sweet Pea.
She was probably right. She usually was these days when it came to FP. Brand was learning to respect Sarah's insights into FP; they'd forged some kind of an otherworldly connection during their time sharing a bedroom.
So this might be the best way to handle things. But Brand could see the Serpent teen was dangerously close to self-immolation.
DeSantos was not far behind.
Kevin was reacting a whole lot like FP, too. Having his boyfriend show up unexpectedly had seemed to tip him over a ledge that he might not have even known he was near.
Something had snapped for that Keller kid, though. Tom was angry and worried over what he was seeing in his son, and everyone had been surprised to find that Kevin was abruptly very, very interested in continuing on the tour.
Go figure. That attitude was apparently going around.
Brand abruptly realized that the silence was going on for far too long and he shot FP another look.
Only Sarah was the one who spoke up: "You can trust us. Trust our process. We're following some hunches, but as you can see, it is paying off in spades so far."
SAC Wilson narrowed her eyes at Sarah, but Brand could tell right away that she was far more inclined to take that answer from Quinn than from either of the men.
Which was fair.
And it was really great of Sarah to say all that, given that she had been read into exactly none of what Brand and FP knew.
Which was precious little, to be sure. But the kid must be onto something, given his cryptic message and actions. He wouldn't have sent that text, let alone taken a dive off of the climbing wall just to score points in an imagined game with his godfather.
At least, Brand hoped the kid would not do that. He frowned as he realized that was not as sure a thing as he'd like to believe.
No. That would be insane, even for the kid. Brand was sure of it: any minute now, Jones would fill them in and they'd have some serious intel that they could pursue.
"This is how they work. And I'm working with them for the duration of the tour." Sarah's words were firm and final. "When we have more that we can share, we will."
SAC Wilson nodded slowly. "All right. I will continue to support you if you're sure this is the best course of action."
"I am."
That sounded… conclusive.
Brand raised his eyebrows questioningly and lifted himself halfway out of the chair. "SAC Wilson?"
"You may go," SAC Wilson confirmed, waving at him to leave.
Brand couldn't quite hide his smile as he turned to leave, counting down in his head to –
"Stay behind for just a minute, FP," SAC Wilson added.
Yep. Sure enough. Their boss seemed to have it in for FP these days, and their current cover story meant that she had all kinds of opportunities to stick it to him.
Poor guy.
Brand shot FP a sympathetic grimace that Wilson could not see. And then he saved himself, getting out the door in two quick strides.
Sarah was like a shadow, not even a beat behind Davies when the door closed behind them. She'd been sticking that close ever since Brand had gotten back to the hotel after they'd received the report that two Serpents had been spotted.
Classic Quinn; she was a consummate professional. She'd probably take it downright personally if someone killed Brand on her watch.
Brand smothered another smile as her word, 'assassin,' came to mind again.
Eh, it was nice having someone watching his back. And, in spite of everything, it was even nicer having that someone be Sarah Quinn.
They made it to the end of the hall, when Sarah seized Brand – and hauled him physically into a large office that was available for scheduled meetings.
"You need to spill everything. Right now. This is my career, Brandon Davies." Sarah was in Brand's face.
Right in his face.
Her breath was minty and warm.
Only one thing occurred to Brand to say, and it came out of his mouth with a smirk even though he knew it was precisely the wrong tact to take. "What, you don't think an assassin is going to-,"
"Someone murdering you is the least of your worries if you don't tell me exactly what is going on," Sarah interrupted with a snarl. "Now."
The touch of humor evident in her hyperbole was reassuring, and it might have sparked an actual conversation.
That was what Brand would think later, anyway, upon reflection.
Unfortunately, Sarah decided to punctuate her confrontation with a swipe at Brand's not-yet-healed shoulder. She cracked a smile as she did it.
Brand would think about it later, again and again. Quinn had been flirting, perhaps without even fully realizing she was doing it.
They had a lot of chemistry; they'd sparred together before.
Moreover, if she had been flirting knowingly, it was assured that Brand had been sending every signal back. With interest.
So there were a million reasons but no real excuse for what happened next.
Because the next thing Brand knew, Sarah was cringing in his grip, her cry of pain echoing in his ears.
A severely abridged version of his life flashed before his eyes.
No assassin was needed. Not any longer; he was going to die right here and now, of shame and horror.
"Brandon, I-,"
Brand could hear his pulse in his ears and very little else.
"Please, I'm sorry-,"
Sarah reached for Brand's bad shoulder, and her movement was tentative.
Maybe even scared.
She should be scared. God knows Brand was. He was frozen in place, afraid to move – afraid that if he did, then his instincts might take over a second time and do even more damage.
Sarah brought her hand slowly to the injured shoulder, holding Brand's gaze as she did so, as if he were a dangerous animal. She probed it gently, wincing when she felt what was surely some alarmingly stiff muscles.
"Brandon, I am so, so-,"
"I, uh, I need to…" What, resign from being a member of society? That seemed to be about the size of it; Brand felt like his brain was misfiring as he tried to come up with anything to say that was equal to the situation.
Sarah stared at him, waiting for him to say more, her eyes wide with horror.
"I hurt you," Brand tried again, wincing as he realized he did not know what else to say. He must have blacked out and lost a few seconds of time; he was not sure what he'd actually done.
"No. You stopped me. You blocked me," Sarah corrected, her eyes still wide with fear. "I completely forgot about your shoulder. I can't believe I forgot. I'm sorry-,"
"I must have hurt you. You yelled." Brand repeated himself. He stared at her, not comprehending.
"I was startled. I'm sorry." Sarah's eyebrows came together in consternation.
Brand frowned. "So... I didn't take a swing at you?"
"No." Sarah was suddenly in Brand's face again. Her breath was still warm, and now it was coming more quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm the one who hurt you."
Okay, she was acting weird. In fact, this was suddenly sounding like a larger conversation. Brand stared down at Sarah, frozen once more, not daring to say anything that might interrupt what seemed like it might be a real conversation between the two of them.
"Everything…" Sarah waved a hand in the air. "All of the stuff we can't talk about. It wasn't about me. And you're dealing with it; I know that."
There was a confused silence as Brand tried to make heads or tails of Quinn's words.
"Um… thanks?" Brand made a face. He wasn't at all sure that a wave of her hand really encompassed everything Sarah thought she was referring to.
And that was probably the crux of the problem; she did not know and could not know.
"I read a lot of the documentation," Sarah said in a rush, as if it were a confession. "I took it as… well, I assumed that it meant a lot of things."
Oh. In that case, maybe she knew exactly what she was referring to. Brand thought about all of the information that would have been contained in the documentation; he felt searingly exposed.
And yet, strangely, he also felt relieved.
Sarah had read all of that, and she was still standing here, talking to him.
"There were a lot of things." Brand could certainly agree with that much.
"I'm saying this poorly. What I mean is, I see it differently now. It was all just you, protecting Jughead. Trying to be a good man." Sarah was looking awfully doe-eyed all of a sudden.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
Brand could not believe he was about to do this. But…
"No. I wasn't. I saved my own skin and the kid helped me do that." Brand was blunt. When he went on, he lowered his voice seriously. "At great personal cost, which he continues to pay at this moment."
That startled the doe right out of her eyes.
It was harsh but necessary.
"But…" Sarah seemed like she wanted to disagree, but she sounded a whole lot less certain of herself all of a sudden.
Brand shook his head sharply. "No. This is not a conversation we can – or should – have."
Without leaving Sarah an opening to respond, Brand turned and left the room.
Sarah would follow. She had to follow.
But hopefully she'd give him a little space when she did, because Brand was having trouble regaining control of his breathing.
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This chapter goes out to the multi-taskers! :-D Everyone's doing too much and it can't possibly end well for at least some of the irons in the fire. Which will work out and which will melt, forgotten, into slag?
I can't wait to hear what you think; we're definitely closing in on the collision point now, and I so appreciate you reading along!
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