Another chapter! Hooray! And it's sunny, which is amazing. It almost feels life-changing.
Also amazing: you reading along. And thanks so much for any and all of your kind notes!
But first off (and vitally), woodscolt215, let me know if you still can't get to chapter two (or, confusingly, chapter three - "If you're not within the sound of my voice, then-," Uh, never mind...). We shall figure it out! But I actually have no way to contact you to troubleshoot, which I was sorry to realize since I couldn't figure it out on my end. Do let me know!
Natureliesbeneath, your reaction to "Sport" was everything I hoped. :-D I love your instincts about Richard/Gladys, the blanking out, and the (um) 'parenting differences' Jughead is encountering. You sum it up well: "bless his naive little heart." And yay yay yay for excitement about Brand and Sarah! I am nervous for them, but hopeful.
I hope you are all well and enjoying your favorite type of weather today as well!
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
"You're humming again." Tim's voice was gravelly from lack of sleep. And it held an edge that could cut glass.
"Sorry." Brand stopped himself mid-chorus – and kept his voice low. Finn had a cold. He'd finally fallen asleep, but apparently everyone in the household had been kept awake for most of the night by his anguished cries. Now they were all stumbling around, drinking coffee, and trying their hardest to keep from waking the baby.
Brand had missed most of the excitement by being out of the house. He'd anticipated the lost sleep for completely unrelated reasons and felt basically the way he'd anticipated feeling this morning.
No. Scratch that. He felt insanely more hopeful and optimistic than he had any right to feel.
"What's that?" Sweet Pea asked curiously from behind Brand.
The kid had all of the advantages of a periscope when it came to spotting things that weren't meant for his view.
Oh well. This wasn't exactly damning, embarrassing, or classified. "It's Jones. Instagramming his breakfast."
Sweet Pea shuffled his feet, a nervous habit. Then he said, tentatively and with the skittish air of a regularly-kicked puppy, "But that looks more like… a selfie."
"Yup." Brand turned away from Tim's baleful look over the monosyllabic response. He wasn't going to ignore the teen's presence like FP, but he didn't volunteer anything further.
It was one thing to have mercy on a troubled kid, and quite another to engage with Sweet Pea on the topic of Jones. FP might have only a tenuous grip on reality these days, but he had one thing right: Jones needed to be kept completely away from this enormous Southside goon.
And any explanation of Brand's theory (that Jones was taking any and every excuse to post selfies as proof of life for his father and godfather) would betray massive vulnerabilities for the wolf pack.
"We need more coffee," Tim said, clearly annoyed but not willing to address the issue right now. Probably not in front of Sweet Pea, if Brand were to hazard a guess. "Is FP still in charge of groceries?"
"I'll have him place an order tonight," Brand said agreeably. This, at least, was simple and straightforward. "He has a running list."
The man had a whole system. And now, with the kid gone, it has become a fully digitized and remote ordering system, which was an interesting turn of events. Apparently they'd only been shopping in person because Jones liked spending that time together at the store.
"Maybe I could take a look at that list? Make a run right now?" Tim countered. "Sweet Pea can keep an eye on Finn; with any luck he'll sleep the whole time I'm gone."
"Yeah. That way there's no more squashed grapes and wilted-," Sweet Pea began darkly, before Tim made a swift gesture in his direction that stopped the teen cold.
Hmmm. Brand faced Tim more squarely. "Tim... Do you have concerns you'd like to share with me about the accommodations here?"
It was high-handed. It was mean. Brand regretted the words instantly.
"No. Well, actually, if you're honestly asking, then yes." Tim's expression was completely calm, but his tone was mildly chiding.
Because Tim was like that, even when he was in a one-down position and being kicked. Brand had to admit that he was impressed all over again: the man had (helpfully) enough poise and class to compensate for a whole household's worth of rising tension and roiling testosterone.
Brand inclined his head and motioned for Tim to continue.
And fair enough, he had also noticed that something about putting FP's name on the grocery order had resulted in less-than-optimal produce showing up on their doorstep. But that did not negate the fact that Tim, Sweet Pea, and Finn were supposed to be lying low, which meant that Tim shouldn't be the one to go to a store in person.
Or anywhere that he might be seen.
Although, maybe an underlying reason was Tim needed his own version of a real estate hobby; the man might have cabin fever. Granted, he probably needed to get used to that real fast, since the adoption was happening.
But other adoptive parents probably got to take their kids outside of the house every once in a while. That wasn't exactly unreasonable. Brand frowned to himself.
"We're out of coffee," Tim repeated simply.
Brand shook off his meandering speculations, since apparently none of that was what was going on here: "Oh. You mean that we're out-out."
Sweet Pea snorted rudely. Quietly, but rudely.
"Yes. We are out-out," Tim replied levelly. It was official: the guy's every statement these days was a master class on civility; Brand felt like he should be taking notes.
"Well. That is a horse of a different color. I'll go get some. Right now. And you two," Brand motioned from Sweet Pea to Tim, "take a nap or something. Sleep while the baby sleeps, right?"
Tim's expression changed as if in slow motion. He must be really tired. First he looked startled, then pleased, then exhausted.
Brand silently congratulated himself on saying the right thing. For once. "I'll stay out of the house for at least an hour. And after that, there will be coffee."
"Bless you." At the prospect of a nap, Tim somehow looked even more haggard than he had a moment before. He smiled, though, and Sweet Pea's shoulders visibly dropped in a release of tension.
Brand looked from Tim to Sweet Pea. "If FP comes home at any point, for any reason-,"
"We'll be asleep." Tim shrugged. "Maybe you should leave him a note?"
Yeah. Sure. Because a note would solve everything.
Brand found the dry erase marker that they'd invested in now that the household was a weird mix of cordial and not-speaking-to-one-another. He began scribbling out a message on the magnetic dry erase board on their refrigerator.
A note would have to suffice.
00000
Betty examined the text again. It was still really weird. It seemed like he was dismissing her concerns about her parents, and the tone could almost read as condescending, but... it was a text.
And, more to the point, it was Jughead.
"He has a head injury," Alice said gently.
Betty's eyes flew up to meet Alice's, panic visible in her expression. "You think that he's-,"
"That is not what's going on," Veronica interrupted firmly.
"You think that's normal?" Alice motioned to Betty's phone with a lightly sardonic laugh. "He's not that guy. And it's not like I'm speculating: we know that he has a head injury."
The three teens were hanging out in Veronica's living room. Hermione had gone shopping for new gloves 'that actually do something against the cold,' and Veronica had invited Betty over to help her plan out a picture-perfect Chrismas evening with Archie and his parents - something that she seemed far too nervous about - but then Betty had received the text in question and asked the other two for insights. That had completely derailed all talk of how Veronica should navigate Mrs. Andrews being at a family holiday for the first time in... however long it had been.
"Alice. Come on. I mean, I'm not saying it's normal..." Veronica studied the text message carefully. "But it does sound like something that could be normal. For Jughead. He doesn't always think about how things sound to-,"
"How well do you even know him?" Alice demanded abruptly. "Did I get the timeline wrong for when you moved to Riverdale and when Jughead moved to Toronto with Davies?"
Betty shook her head at Alice, interjecting before Veronica could respond. "No, Veronica's right. This is weird, but maybe not, um, completely weird for Jughead. He's always been a little lost when it comes to family dynamics, and this is really complicated..."
Betty wasn't sure what else there was to say.
"I'm sorry, but whatever he 'was' is going to be a small fraction of the whole picture at this point," Alice said dismissively. "Jonas Davies wouldn't say that to you, and I don't think post-Toronto Jughead would either. Not unless he'd been hit over the head one too many times. Which... he was."
Alice motioned widely with her arms as if what she was saying was painfully obvious.
Betty bit her lip. Alice had a point, but... "I mean, maybe this is a sign that Jughead is getting back to normal. Back to the person he was. Especially now that he's spending time with his mother, which maybe-,"
"Occam disagrees," Alice interrupted lightly, in an almost singsong tone.
When she saw both Betty and Veronica's expressions darken, Alice froze.
"I'm sorry, are you not thrilled to consider the possibility that he's not being a jerk? Not without reasonable cause, anyway?"
"He's not being a jer-," Betty protested loudly.
Only this time it was Veronica who interrupted, albeit apologetically. "Betty. It was a little dismissive."
Alice shrugged exaggeratedly. "That is all I'm saying. And I would bet on the head injury before I'd believe he had a complete reversion in personality."
Betty and Veronica both looked at the text again.
"You think he's really in that bad shape?" Betty looked worried again.
"I mean, let's keep it in perspective..." Veronica gave the phone a swipe. "There are a lot of texts here. A lot. And this is the only weird one."
Alice cocked her head to one side and watched Betty closely. She was hesitating again. "Betty? Is that the only weird one?"
"No-o. Not exactly. I mean... everything has been different since the tour." Betty shook her head slowly. "Not like a personality change, exactly, but maybe... A new perspective sort of thing? A live life to the fullest vibe? And occasionally it might be a little... tone deaf."
It had mostly been pleasant. Reassuring. But as Betty thought about it more and more, it was suddenly looking a whole lot more like it might be a coping mechanism.
Or, if Alice was correct, it might be a symptom.
"Or it's autocorrect making him sound like that. Or predictive text. Whatever. Regardless, it's not like we can figure this out from a text," Veronica said firmly, shaking her head at Alice in a warning to drop the subject.
"Maybe we can't. But I know who would know," Alice said simply, ignoring Veronica's signal to change topics. "So... You could always go get another perspective from him, Betty. A second opinion couldn't hurt."
Veronica sighed wearily at the idea, but Betty nodded thoughtfully as she considered that option.
"That's not a bad idea. And, just in case, maybe I should get that second opinion today."
"Like..." Alice looked at the clock, "now? FP won't be home for a while and Davies is working from home. We could all go together as long as you promise we'll leave before five-thirty."
Veronica sighed again, this time in exasperation. "You actually know his schedule? FP is not that bad, and-,"
"I just figure that's a safe margin," Alice said shortly. It wasn't worth having this fight again. She gave Veronica a too-sweet smile. "And, just for the record, I am allowed not to like everyone."
"That's fair," Betty said with a small smile. "FP might grow on you if you give him a chance. But you don't have to make an effort if you don't want to."
"Thank you!" Alice threw her arms wide in an exaggerated expression of gratitude. "Finally. A situation I'm not expected to try and fix."
Veronica snort-laughed at that, her expression softening. "You mean there is such a thing? You give me hope."
"Whatever is bugging you about the whole Andrews parents situation, repeat after me: it is a them problem," Alice declared, waving her hand at Veronica as if she were performing a magical incantation. "You officially have my permission to let them be the ones to deal with it."
"I will tell them you said that," Veronica said with a mysterious lilt to her voice.
"You do that." Alice grinned.
00000
It took some knocking, but the door finally opened.
Alice's jaw dropped.
Even Veronica had to admit, it was a head-scratcher: Sweet Pea, who had completely disappeared from the face of the earth a few weeks earlier, was standing in the doorway.
He was holding a baby.
He also looked a whole lot like he'd been up all night with that baby.
Betty was looking at Alice with concern, as if this tableau meant something more - something specific - to Betty.
Alice had gone completely pale, as if it meant something to her too - and that it was something extremely painful to contemplate.
The silence grew long.
Then longer.
By the time Veronica realized that it was far beyond 'awkward' and definitely getting into 'standoff' territory, Sweet Pea's expression had morphed.
He had looked exhausted - and frustrated, no doubt over the persistent knocking that seemed likely to have woken both him and this unfamiliar baby.
Now, however, he looked angry, and (bizarrely) a little smug.
"Hi." Sweet Pea glared down at the three teenagers and bounced the baby comfortably in his arms. "I'd introduce you, but you didn't show any interest in that last time, so..."
Uh. What?
Veronica felt her jaw go slack as she turned to look at Alice. "Is this why you and Sweet Pea-,"
"Yeah." Alice's voice was uncharacteristically low.
What? Veronica looked from Alice to Betty, who was starting to look angry as well. Maybe even on the brink of some kind of outburst.
"In or out?" Suddenly Tim was in the doorway with Sweet Pea. He motioned impatiently. "We can't have the door open like this. So... in or out?"
Sweet Pea looked at Tim in horror. "Hey, Tim, I don't think-,"
Betty was already pushing past him, though, and Tim ignored Sweet Pea as he waved Alice and Veronica in as well.
"Come on, let's go. Coffee is on the way, thank God."
Well. Veronica had to admit she was searingly curious.
And maybe for once she was about to hear the full story.
"You found Finn and you didn't tell me?" Betty asked Sweet Pea, her voice filled with accusation. "How could you let me worry all this time?"
"Wait, what?" Veronica's eyes widened at Betty's back. "You… what?"
"Sweet Pea can explain," Betty replied, folding her arms. "To all of us."
Veronica shot a look at Alice, who also seemed a whole lot less shocked than Veronica would have expected.
Veronica's eyes narrowed. "Somehow I don't think he's the only one who's going to need to explain some things."
00000
"I'm making progress," Richard had said.
Gladys mulled over the words. How many things they could mean, and how few of the possibilities were actually good news.
Well, it wasn't like she had accomplished much at this point, so maybe any version of progress would be an improvement.
Gladys watched Jughead where he was lying on one of the plush leather couches, staring at the same page he'd been on when Gladys had entered the living room fifteen minutes earlier. She had begun working on her laptop until Jughead's preternatural stillness had attracted her attention.
Something wasn't right. Richard was absolutely correct about that much.
Had that FBI agent done something to the teenager, changing Jughead's restless nature into something resembling passivity - or even catatonia, which is what it seemed like at the moment?
Or had it been FP's good-for-nothing influence?
Jughead wasn't on drugs; that much Gladys would have known about quickly enough with him under her roof.
But maybe he should be on something, Gladys reflected uncomfortably.
The page still had not turned; Jughead was staring at it blankly.
If only he were asleep, this could be a touching moment of peaceful family togetherness.
Instead it felt a whole lot like seeing someone standing in traffic, oblivious to an incoming truck, and just... watching.
And then, with a startling blink that resembles nothing more than a moth's wings fluttering, Jughead came back to life. He stretched luxuriously and turned to look at his mother with a sly smile. "Hey Mom. What's the plan for dinner?"
There he was: that was Jughead. For the moment he appeared to be exactly as Gladys had left him - just the way he had been before she had left FP and left Riverdale.
But it wouldn't last. By now she knew the pattern: Jughead would be himself for a few hours, maybe, and then he would slip into another world that was hidden somewhere in his head, and the silence would descend. He would become everything Jughead usually was not: blank, silent, still.
Maybe he was having seizures. Maybe he had had a stroke.
Maybe next time he would not reawaken from whatever it was.
Gladys stared at him uneasily.
"Don't give me that look. I wasn't suggesting cooking or anything crazy like that." Jughead laughed conspiratorially, as if Gladys didn't fully know that he had learned to love cooking.
Somehow, contradicting everything Gladys knew about her son, he'd picked up an instinct for the kitchen. He had a feel for flavors, spices, heat, and how to combine them.
And oh, look: he was hiding it from his mother in order to set her at ease.
This was what Gladys meant about her complete lack of progress. They had no honesty, or perhaps just precious little of it. Jughead was pretending that he was still the little boy who would eat peanut butter for every meal and likely starve if he was expected to actually cook for himself.
Gladys blinked when an intrusive thought supplied another version of her son: memories of how he would wait patiently, starving if it came to that, if she didn't bring him any food. FP certainly hadn't stepped in to feed their boy when she didn't.
Uncomfortably, she recognized that there was only one reason she knew that - because he had starved, more than once, when she'd had to see to other things.
Well. That good-for-nothing FP must be the reason for these blackouts now, too, Gladys decided abruptly.
It made sense. Davies had taught Jughead to cook. The man might have tortured him, but he was a federal agent. They had rules. He would have fed Jughead enough to keep him from looking this skeletal, and he was the source of Jughead's newfound abilities in the kitchen.
So, by process of elimination, it had to be FP at the root of this new problem.
And Davies was no doubt at the root of the other problems. Jughead had clearly been spoiled by someone, between the cooking and the fancy clothing and the wad of cash.
It was a conundrum that Gladys had not anticipated: how did you get in good with a teen who had been neglected and abused – but also spoiled rotten, basically at the same time?
And who knew what other factors were in play. There were so many new people in Jughead's life, and each had the potential to be an obstacle to Gladys reestablishing their relationship.
Gladys tried to smile warmly at her son, in spite of an involuntary deluge of mental images of FP with Sarah - the woman who had been so complicated and so impressive - and so very nearly willing to betray FP. And yet... she hadn't.
All of that soured her stomach.
Sure, Quinn and FP weren't together now, but even that wasn't comforting. After all, there was every possibility that the only reason they'd broken up was because FP had inexplicably become bored with the gorgeous and accomplished federal agent.
FP was that self-destructive, as Gladys knew all too well.
So... yet another woman had felt the magnetism, then the inevitable push away from his true north, and finally the searing pain of exiting his orbit.
That might mean Gladys and Sarah had a few things in common.
Well, there was one massive difference that Gladys could safely take comfort in: Sarah hadn't gotten the purchase that Gladys had. She didn't have the means to pry loose FP's iron grip on the Southside and find the source of the Southsiders' newly discovered wealth.
Quinn didn't have Jughead at the precise moment when the Southside prized their children more than anyone could have predicted, given their troubling history and circumstances.
So, unlike Gladys, the blonde FBI agent would never feel the satisfaction of taking down a dozen birds with a single dark-haired teenaged stone, in the process wresting control of the Serpents and installing herself and Richard comfortably - and it would be comfortable - at the top of a food chain that had clearly come into serious money.
That had to be the case. Why else would the Southsiders all stop cashing their government checks at once?
Idiots. It had been a dead giveaway.
And, whatever was funding them, Gladys was going to find out about it.
This time her attempt at a smile felt right. It was warm, and it was satisfied.
"We can cook." That hadn't sounded as motherly as she'd hoped, so Gladys tried again: "I'd love to cook with you."
"Really?" A light seemed to come on behind Jughead's eyes. "You mean it?"
Hmmm. Maybe he wasn't having seizures. Or a stroke.
Or, at the very least, maybe there was a viable strategy that would keep him from seizing or stroking out, at least for a while.
Gladys and Richard could work together on keeping Jughead focused and occupied so that he would stay in one piece long enough to pull this off.
After the Southside was under their control, they could find a hospital. Get whatever was wrong fixed up, and pay the bills for him. Jughead would have earned that much.
Gladys nodded, both to herself and to her son. "Of course I mean it. I want you to show me what you've learned. Don't you go holding anything back either."
Jughead's grin made him look even more like his younger self, from before Gladys had left Riverdale.
Okay. Good. This was working. It was going to work.
When Jughead bounded energetically over to Gladys, she stood up - and, without thinking, she raised her phone.
Well, it made sense, Gladys told herself. They were bonding and she wanted to document it. There was nothing wrong with that. Mothers all over the world did it every day.
When the shutter clicked, though, the expression she'd captured wasn't anything like she'd expected.
"Uh, let's try that again," Gladys said with a laugh. "Where did that smile go?"
Jughead cocked his head to one side and smiled obediently while the fake shutter made its clicking sound again.
In the new photo he looked like his thoughts were a million miles away. But, Gladys though as she studied it critically for a few moments, it still worked.
Gladys uploaded it with just a few quick swipes of the phone.
Time to get down to business. "All right. Supplies."
"Yeah. Supplies." Jughead was still smiling, but for some reason he still looked lost in thought. Or memory. Or something.
Well. It was just gonna have to be time for Jughead to make a few new memories.
00000
"Huh. This seems bad, but I can't quite put my finger on why," Brand said sarcastically from where he stood, just within the front door. "Oh. Maybe because this is an unbelievably terrible idea. That could be the reason."
Tim shrugged from where he was standing in the kitchen, leaning wearily on the island. "You don't have to tell me that. But it was done by the time I realized it was happening. There was nothing for it."
Brand studied Sweet Pea. He didn't look like an idiot, but-
"I'm really sorry, Davies. I was half asleep and Finn was crying, and then I just… opened the door. I wasn't thinking." Sweet Pea looked as though he might start crying as well, from sheer exhaustion. The circles under his eyes were now joined by red rings around his eyes that looked like they would be painful to the touch.
Brand frowned, trying to get his mind into a more rational space before he said something he might have cause to regret later.
Well, one thing he had to decide was how much to rub the teen's nose in the mistake. Did he look like he'd do it again?
Brand considered that possibility for a moment, but Sweet Pea looked dejected enough to disappear into the floorboards. He wouldn't be making this mistake a second time.
There wasn't much other benefit to making him any more miserable, either, Brand quickly decided.
He sighed before he spoke, though, to make it clear he wasn't defending or condoning what the teenager had done. "Well... then I guess we probably shouldn't tell FP how this played out."
Sweet Pea's breath went out in a whoosh of overwhelm and relief.
Tim looked over at his older charge with surprise at his strong reaction. He seemed to see Sweet Pea's condition for the first time and immediately moved to take Finn from the teen's arms.
Yeah, newsflash, Tim: Sweet Pea was in obviously terrible shape - babysitting in any capacity wasn't a good idea for him at the moment.
"FP's having a rough time, but he doesn't need to take it out on you," Brand continued. "Just as long as you are crystal clear that this cannot happen again."
Brand looked over at the warrior queen and her two friends. He felt his expression harden, but Alice cut him off before he could give them a stern lecture on not breathing a word to anyone about their houseguests.
"We get it. Nobody can know they are even in the area." Alice gave him a smug smile that seemed completely out of keeping with the situation.
Brand blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah. That is... yes."
"I know. Or, I figured. The rumor is that they left the state, so..." Alice waved a hand vaguely, "duh."
Hm. That was one way of putting it. It was awfully flip, though.
"This is serious, Alice. This is a matter of safety, and maybe even-," Brand corrected in a low, serious tone that he hoped sounded intimidating without quite crossing the line into being threatening.
"I know, I know," Alice interrupted. "Life and death, blah blah. Same load of crap, different day."
This time Brand was gratified to see everyone in the room give Alice censuring looks.
"What? Come on. He's acting like this is our first rodeo," Alice said to Betty and Veronica. Then she turned back to address Brand: "You literally trusted us before, and now-,"
"That was out of necessity," Brand growled.
"And from what I'm seeing, it's a necessity again." Alice shrugged lightly, her tone sarcastic. "I know! Would it make you feel better if you gave us the lecture again about conspiracies and how many people can know a secret before it gets spilled? It's a total snooze, and I'm still not convinced you thoroughly vetted your sources, but we can take one for the team if it would make you feel better. You just say the word."
Brand blinked once, slowly and emphatically, as he considered what exactly to say in response to that little speech.
"Shut up, Alice." Sweet Pea motioned sharply at her to cool it. "He's the only reason Tim, Finn, and I aren't sleeping in shifts in a safe house. Do not mess that up for us."
Alice's mouth snapped shut and she looked... hurt. And at least a little horrified.
Hopefully by her own behavior, Brand thought darkly, before he focused on Veronica Lodge. "Well. You got any bright ideas about all this?"
Veronica froze, her eyes searching the room before she responded.
"What do you want me to say?" Veronica looked at Brand in confusion. "It's obvious that you want everyone to think they're long gone so nobody will even think of checking here. I'm sure not going to mess that up."
"Yeah. Of course we're going to-," The warrior queen began to speak.
"Oh, I'm not worried about you," Brand snapped before Betty could finish speaking. That was true for a whole lot of reasons – not least of which being her literal orchestration of the Southside raids, and deep personal need for this to all stay quiet so that her involvement stayed a secret.
And, okay, sure; it was also because he knew he could trust her. That was true.
Betty looked chastened, though, and Brand was pretty sure she'd taken him to mean the former and not the latter.
Oh well. Brand would deal in niceties after making completely sure that FP's house wasn't about to be shot up. Again.
Then, as if summoned by Brand's thoughts, the front door opened again.
"Brandon?" The voice was low, dangerous, and not yet angry.
But the operative word was definitely 'yet.'
Brand rubbed his forehead with one hand while massaging his neck with the other. Everyone in the room was suddenly shooting him panicked, beseeching looks.
Joy.
Yet again he would need to deal with the conflict, smooth it over, and probably find a way to personally take the blame in order to keep the situation from blowing up.
Welcome to his life.
Brand steeled himself for the inevitable; he plastered an innocent look onto his face before turning around. "Hey, FP. You're home early."
Then he remembered another tool he had in his arsenal. Smiling slightly, Brand held up one of the grocery bags he'd been carrying when he'd entered the house - before all thoughts of errands had fled. "Want some coffee?"
00000
Coffee can fix anything. Ri-ight? I hope you enjoyed (and were able to open the chapter!), and thank you again for reading along. Sunshine means happy writing over here, and I will love reading any and all notes as I work through the upcoming chapters. I wish you the very best!
-Button