Another chapter! It's been a long road, but we've got some answers coming... :-D

Thanks so much for the lovely reviews and faithful reading!

Skyrider45, that was super good of you to wait until after work (I love the idea of the chapter being a temptation, as mean as that no doubt sounds... :), and I laughed at your assessment that there could have been more action. Definitely a style difference, though I have a (very roomy) place in my heart for action. When Jughead is discussing a book with Alice in the hammocks, he says it is the goal - and for me that could be any number of writers (Heinlein got me started on writing), but in terms of action it's probably Lev Grossman. I need (far) more talent to pull that off, but then again everyone in the world pretty much does. :) I haven't tried superhero writing at all, and I think that would be a reach for me - which probably means I should try it out sometime. :) Kevin as Rambo is my new favorite mental image. Wow. :-D Jughead's still learning (it's a process!), and I think FP might have words with him... Maybe. That is a great idea for collecting particular quotes, too; I will have to try that at some point. :)

Living Lucid Dream, I am right there with you about the harnesses. The "nowhere to hide" bit is cringe-worthy! I was so, so glad that FP working through his feelings about Brand connected. In some ways, that's our titular moment for this story - I was hoping people would not miss it, and it giving you life sounds like the best possible way to notice it. :-D Even though the prison part is sobering, yeah. Brand would not have a prayer of escaping serious time, I agree. Jughead probably would (after a messy court case, blech), but FP's still our 'worst case scenario' guy these days. I loved that you snort-laughed, BTW! :-D Flourishing bow for the suspense as well - thank you. :) It felt like working out choreography to get everyone in motion and colliding at the right points, so I am VERY glad it made sense and held together. Also... one of my favorite things about this story has been Joaquin's complicated nature even when he's doing nothing. Everyone's so tense around him all through the vacation, and he's just... on vacation. Nothing is simple for his character overall, but honestly he's just been having a good time with Kevin in Michigan. :-D (there's a lesson in there somewhere, I think... even though Joaquin's arc is far from resolved! :-D) And yeah, Jughead is about to learn very properly not to run off into the dark after a dog. FP is so over it. :-D

Guest, thank you for the wonderful compliment! I love that the chapters are building momentum for you (woo-hoo!), and I loved that you enjoyed those specific details - you always seem to zero in on some of my favorites, which is really encouraging. FP and the gag back-and-forth is classic Brand and FP, and I loved that you saw FP's dialogue as being so reminiscent of Jughead. I so enjoyed having everyone team up and work together, too, and I loved how you put it: "...Then he heard the dog." That just sums it up. :) I was also glad you liked Joaquin and Kevin's moments reacting to 'being shot' (that moment when they're both worried at the end of the chapter is one of my favorites), and Brand's line almost (almost!) got to be the last word on the chapter because I liked that moment so much too. :) I hope you like this chapter just as much!

Enjoy!

-Button

00000

Roy made his way back to the neighboring rental property on foot. He assumed that Russell had made a very high bid in order to get this specific place for this particular week, so close to the sprawling estate that the network had rented. That was working out well for Roy, now that he had literally missed the boat.

Hired guns were never as predictable as one might hope.

And this whole thing was an almost unmitigated disaster. The one saving grace was that he had not been recognized at any point. That had been a close call with Brand on the boat, and Roy was still not convinced that he had not recognized Morris - who thankfully did not have his sterling reputation (and price) because he rolled on his employers.

Well, Roy should probably also be grateful that nobody had actually been shot. That would have been the worst case scenario, and it turned out that getting hired guns to stop returning fire was significantly more difficult than ordering them not to fire in the first place.

It was bad enough that Roy had been forced to hire serious - expensive - muscle (and to be fair, they'd done a fantastic job of getting both Brand and Jones senior out of the way). Finding that the teens had inexplicably gone to ground within the dark house - and then having the entire place lit up in a largely one-sided firefight (and again: let the record show that it was not their side spraying bullets at teenagers without provocation) - was so far beyond the pale that he was going to have to take extreme evasive action to cover his tracks.

Morris grabbing the redhead and Jones probably should have earned him a bullet. Roy was not fully convinced that he'd just been trying to fulfill their mission and scare those two; the mercenary been powerfully angry over the unexpected situation and insane gunfire - and 'ready to watch someone drown,' as he had so charmingly put it.

Yeah, Brand would shoot Roy without blinking if he ever found out that he had been involved in any of this.

And if his award-worthy performance as 'wealthy tourist' had been any indication, Brand was still mighty attached to the kid. He was apparently willing to be abducted and ransomed in order to keep Jones from being threatened.

That was the one upshot to the disaster that had just played out: it seemed likely that Roy's latest 'tip' for Brand would be compelling.

He'd put that part of the plan into motion earlier in the day, making sure that the update to his earlier intel would be time-stamped to appear useful, but in reality would arrive too late to actually be useful.

As he navigated the path in the rain, Roy wondered if the idiot with the dog had even noticed any of this going on next door. He'd been awfully close by - and the whole thing had been orchestrated by his own employee -, but it was likely that he had no clue, what with the storm and all. He really was a perfect fall guy, and it would not hurt that Roy was now leaving literal tracks leading directly to his doorstep.

All of the complications had been disappointing and frustrating. But at this point, in spite of the near-disaster (or perhaps because of it), Roy felt confident that the idiot would not fly under the radar for much longer.

And Brand would be very grateful to Roy. Their reunion could only go well.

Roy picked up his pace as he heard the German Shepherd barking in reaction to his movements along the trail. The idiot was clearly not a dog person - at least not when it came to this animal - or he would never have left it out during a storm that neither man nor beast should be exposed to.

00000

Jughead picked his way carefully along the trail, listening for more barking. He knew there was a neighboring property somewhere in this direction; it was visible from the end of their long dock, even though their own property was large.

The dog might just be lost in the woods, or maybe even dragging a leash that had become tangled in something. Trig had had that happen once when he'd been exploring in Fox Forest, and he'd been inconsolable until Jughead had caught up with him and sorted him out.

Jughead wished he had a flashlight, but at least the rain was not so painfully hard now that he was under the trees.

The dog gave a more energetic series of barks, and Jughead considered getting off of the trail to move more directly toward where they seemed to be located.

His dad would hate that idea. Jughead looked over longingly, but he stayed on the trail and just moved more quickly. Maybe the dog was further away than it had sounded.

Before much longer, though, Jughead saw the neighboring house come into view. Maybe the dog had been left outside, perhaps even by mistake. The lights were on, but it could be that the owners were not home for some reason. Maybe the storm had prevented them from coming back from a run into town.

Or maybe they had been injured in the storm.

Jughead figured he might as well check on more than just the dog, since he'd come this far. Maybe he could even get a ride back to the lodge, since he was feeling more chilled as his adrenaline faded - and he did not want to become hypothermic again.

Not to mention it had been far more than five minutes, and Jughead was certain he'd be in some trouble with both his dad and Brand if he didn't show up at the lodge very soon.

The dog barked again, and this time Jughead was able to zero in on its location. He jogged toward the fenced back yard and gave a sharp whistle - universal dog language, he figured - to announce himself.

00000

FP didn't know what to do. His phone was in the lake, so he couldn't call or text Jughead - and honestly if that boy had his phone on him and handy, that ringer had better be off.

If Jughead had been taken away at gunpoint, there were far too many possibilities. The boat could even have come back for the remaining gunman and his son, though there had not been a whole lot of time for that.

And then FP heard a barking dog in the distance.

And an altogether too familiar whistle.

FP cursed under his breath, and then kept on cursing as he made his way toward that side of the property. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, right up until he saw it: a trail.

At least Jughead wasn't in danger. That is, not until his father got ahold of him.

00000

Russell was deciding how best to dispose of the dog; it was a diverting mental exercise while he packed.

Because he was getting out that very night, no question, and he was going to leave no trace of himself here. Not so much as a fingerprint.

He'd used an alias, cash, and his exquisite access to resources and information to cover up most of his doings over the past week or so, and Russell was starting to feel more like himself as he went over and over everything in his head.

It would be as though none of this had ever happened. Bryn was certifiable, and she didn't know his name or his face. Roy was a low-level criminal who had proven himself less than competent, and even so he would be well compensated. Russell might even be assigned to investigate the drugging, which would be more than a little convenient.

But then there was an incredibly loud whistle that sounded like it had originated in the back yard.

That could only be the harbinger of something bad. Russell grabbed his gun and slipped out of his room toward the back door.

00000

Roy cut through the idiot's rental property. That dog was really going nuts. There seemed to be company over as well; hopefully neither of the men Roy could see moving inside the house would investigate the dog's intense reaction to his movement across the property.

Roy would make tracks toward the road (or, more accurately, make no tracks that went beyond the idiot's property, since the driveway was paved), hike further than he thought was strictly necessary, and then arrange for a ride once he was far enough away that a stranger being picked up would not bear investigation.

That would be miles, but Roy liked his heart beating.

He was starting to relax, though. It had worked. Brand had been spooked, the kid had been terrified, the threat had been even more credible than Roy had intended, and nobody was hurt.

Some people had to wonder if they'd get a call back after they'd applied for a job; Roy was feeling pretty darn confident. It was just a matter of time.

00000

Jughead climbed over the tall wooden fence with a little help from a tree that was - obviously - too close to the fence for the barrier to be effective security for the property.

And he stopped short.

The dog really looked like Trigger.

"Hey, buddy," Jughead called across the yard, snapping out of his surprised hesitation. German Shepherds had somewhat varied markings, but Trigger's were not that unusual for the breed. "You're all wet. Let's find you some shelter, huh?"

And then dog was freaking out, and tearing up the lawn in clumps of grass and mud as he tried to break free and get to Jughead.

"...Trig?" Jughead asked, and he started running toward the dog that had obviously recognized him.

Then a floodlight went on, illuminating the yard.

And Agent Russell stepped into view, carrying a gun.

Jughead stopped running and stared at him, stock still and silent for a moment.

And then he started yelling.

"You stole my dog?" Jughead's tone held a potent combination of betrayal and fury. He turned away from Trigger to approach the agent instead. "The FBI took Trigger? Right out of my house?" Jughead's mind was racing as he pieced things together. "Agent Sarah is a liar. Why would you do this?"

Even when Russell raised his gun, it never occurred to Jughead that he was in any real danger. Russell was an FBI agent, and they dealt in threats and not actual violence. Jughead had learned that much over the previous weeks.

But then there was a gunshot.

00000

FP had not gotten far down the trail when he heard a gun go off. There was almost zero chance that Jughead had been the one pulling the trigger.

It had been quite the night, but FP found that he had one more run in him. He took off down the dark path, focusing more on keeping his feet under him than on the lights that were coming into view. Apparently they had a neighbor.

And that neighbor had a dog.

And a gun.

00000

Jughead was breathing hard - maybe hyperventilating - as he was pushed into a wooden chair. He was roped into place, and he knew that he wasn't going anywhere even before it occurred to him that he should be resisting - fighting - trying to get Trig and get away.

But Russell was dead. He had a hole in his chest and he was just dead. In the back yard.

Jughead felt a thick cloth gag being pulled into his mouth from behind him, and too late he realized that he should have been screaming for help.

Because Brand had told him to scream like hell if he ever saw Agent Donn again.

And now Jughead was alone. Tied up and silenced. He'd done exactly what he'd promised his dad he'd never do, and Jughead was increasingly certain that he'd just traded his life for Trigger's. He'd left himself only one option: somehow, by some miracle, saving himself. He'd given himself the worst possible odds. His dad would be left alone.

And Russell was probably still bleeding.

Jughead closed his eyes tightly. He knew this wasn't a strategy, but he needed a moment and this felt right. In fact, Jughead suddenly wondered what would happen if he never opened his eyes again.

"Kid. The dog's fine," Agent Donn spoke.

Jughead opened his eyes. The words sounded promising, and his tone was reassuring, but Brand had made it clear that Agent Donn was dangerous.

And Jughead trusted Brand. He did not trust Agent Donn.

Who had just tied him into a chair and gagged him. Jughead whimpered as more of the situation computed through the distracting jumble that his brain seemed to be creating in order to drown out the memory of Russell falling to the ground right in front of him.

Jughead tried to focus on where he was, and what was happening right now.

The rope holding his arms behind the chair and wrapped around his chest was soft, like the one he'd been thrown to tie Archie up with. Maybe it was a certain kind that was good for tying people up. Maybe Brand knew the types, just like he knew all of the different knives. Maybe Brand knew how to criss-cross the ropes properly, too; there wasn't even a knot over Jughead's chest, but the loops of rope were all drawn together tightly just from some kind of a twist, and he could hardly budge at all from the chair's back. There must be a trick to it.

Jughead couldn't see his hands, but he had felt - and could still feel - that the rope had some loops and tricks there as well that kept it from slipping. He thought he might even be losing circulation in his hands (though he was so cold from the rain and from kayaking that it was hard to tell), which was impressive. Donn was definitely good at this.

The rappelling ropes would probably make good practice. The knots he'd tied in them hadn't slipped; in fact, Jughead probably should have tried something like that on Archie so that they would not have been threatened by the gunman.

Maybe one of the masked shooters had been Donn. The one who had grabbed Archie had a different voice, but Agent Donn could have been one of the others. He didn't seem wet from the rain, though, so maybe not. Jughead was pretty sure that everyone involved had gotten drenched. He could feel that he was still dripping onto the floor.

At least it wasn't blood. He hadn't been shot.

Jughead felt his breathing become even faster - he felt lightheaded - and he tried once again to block the images of Agent Russell out of his mind. He focused instead on the faint scent of detergent in his gag. He wondered if there were people who would know what brand of soap it was just from smelling it. The fact that it was a nice smell was helpful; it was almost a taste since he was gagged with it. It was probably expensive, too, since this vacation home was really nice.

It was strange that he'd never given much thought to this before. Jughead wasn't even sure what detergent he used at home; he knew the size, shape, and color, and he knew where to find it on the shelf to buy it from the store, but he could not come up with the name of it. He couldn't even name more than one or two brands of-

"Stop hyperventilating."

Jughead startled at the sound of the angry command.

Oh yeah. Donn. Jughead should probably focus on him.

Maybe Agent Donn had taken Trigger. Maybe he'd been sending the notes. Maybe Agent Russell had been working with him - or maybe working against him to try and stop all of this - or maybe -

"You are exceptionally difficult to keep up with, and Russell's been a loose cannon for a while now, but I'm going to make sure that you stay safe. Brandon will appreciate that, so you be sure you let him know I did this."

Donn walked in front of Jughead, crouched, and then tugged on one of his ankles. He pulled so that Jughead's knee straightened and his leg extended out in front of the chair, heel on the floor.

"That's good. Stay just like that." Donn tweaked Jughead's knee almost affectionately and then repeated the motion with Jughead's other leg.

Jughead's mind reeled. Apparently Agent Donn cared what Brand thought. He was probably going to tie him up further, too, since he was messing with his ankles.

Maybe... this was a time-out.

Jughead figured that even Brand, who'd been really upset with Donn over what he'd done during debriefing, would approve of a time-out right about now. Talk about lapses in judgment. Even his dad might approve, or at least not be too mad at Agent Donn when he was called to come pick Jughead up.

His dad would probably want to practice with the climbing rope too, since Brand had issued a standing offer to teach his dad how to put Jughead into a time-out. It hadn't seemed like a serious offer, but Jughead would totally understand if that changed.

He hoped it did change, actually. That would mean he'd made it home alive.

"I've gotten to know you pretty well over the past couple of months, and I've developed a theory."

Donn walked behind Jughead once more, tousling his hair as he did so. Another time-out maneuver.

Or maybe it was the very last time that Jughead would be touched kindly by another human while he was still alive. One or the other. Jughead barely managed to stop another whimper before it became audible.

"It looks like I might be right. We just need you to slow down long enough to think things through. You're a smart kid; everyone says so."

Yeah, this was sounding more and more like a time-out. That wasn't making Jughead much calmer - yet - but now he was able to focus on Donn and get his brain to ignore some of the random thoughts and observations that were still trying to flood his mind.

Maybe he was becoming hopeful. That would be nice. Even if he was wrong, whatever came next would not hurt so much if he didn't see it coming. Jughead had learned that from the drug dealers: sometimes anticipating something terrible was worse than being surprised by it.

"Brandon doesn't have my style of personnel management, though. He likes to give more rope than I do, and you really like to hang yourself with it."

The agent's turn of phrase sounded equal parts terrifying - and accurate. Against all odds, Jughead felt a flush of embarrassment.

"He'll appreciate me helping him out. Making life easier."

Jughead had to admit that Donn might not be wrong. This whole evening was a debacle of epic proportions, and he'd made everything worse by going after Trig without getting backup first. Jughead was beginning to realize why he'd done that, too.

He hadn't wanted anyone to stop him.

And if anyone had, he never would have found Trigger.

Jughead definitely wouldn't do it over again quite this way... but even with the benefit of hindsight, it was complicated. This was probably what his counselor would call a 'mixed message.'

"I know that you want to make it easier on Brandon too. I've seen you making an effort. It looks like it's sincerely difficult for you to take the time to slow down and consider the consequences of your actions."

Jughead nodded eagerly. This was sounding promising; maybe Jughead just needed to show that he'd learned his lesson and would not do this a second time. Or a third time. Or whatever number they were up to at this point.

"Now, keep your legs just the way I have them."

Jughead obeyed willingly. Agent Donn could finish putting him into the time-out and then get Brand on the phone. Everything would be better soon.

When Donn came back into view, however, Jughead had reason to reassess everything he'd been thinking.

Because the concept of a time-out had never before involved an aluminum baseball bat.

00000

FP would need time and reflection before he'd be able to begin constructing a timeline of what had gone on at the lodge, where each desperate scene had taken place, and who had been involved in what that evening. But if someone asked him what the worst moment of the night was, he was already crystal clear on the answer, even while it was playing out.

It was the moment when he'd approached a picture window and seen his son bound and gagged in a wooden chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, with a federal agent standing over his vulnerable knees with an aluminum baseball bat.

The man was already in position to take a swing - raising the bat - but Jughead didn't look frightened; he was staring up at the agent in what appeared to be innocent confusion. He wasn't even moving his legs in an attempt to protect himself.

FP almost did not aim high when he shot his way through that window. Almost.

00000

Later on, Jughead had clear impressions in his mind of what happened, but he wasn't sure how much he could trust them.

At the time he hadn't understood what Donn was doing, or why the agent was making such a strange mistake. He should be able to see that he didn't need a baseball bat to make threats when Jughead was already tied up.

And suddenly there was gunfire. Glass shattering.

It was as if the whole storm came into the room with them.

By the time Jughead realized that it was his dad, and he had time to be afraid about him going up against Agent Donn, the altercation was over. Donn had acquiesced with annoyance, but no real resistance.

He was chatting.

And FP was a little different from Brand when it came to rescuing Jughead.

For one thing, he didn't change his expression when he looked between Donn and Jughead while he kept the agent sitting in a chair at gunpoint and freed his son. Maybe his dad really was equally angry with them both, but even when Jughead had screwed up royally Brand always made a point of giving him a concerned or encouraging look when he was helping him.

Of course, maybe this time Brand would have looked angry. That was possible.

His dad yanked the gag out first, leaving it tied around Jughead's neck, which was an improvement over Brand's method of assessing him and untying him in whatever order let him look for injuries most efficiently. 'Gag first' should definitely be the rule.

Brand usually didn't try to get information from him right away, though, and demand answers while he was impatiently jerking a hunting knife through a whole mess of rope. And Jughead had seen his dad's aim with a knife earlier in the evening, so when he simply closed his eyes and braced himself against the yanks that might leave him bloodied - and potentially missing a finger or two -, he felt fully justified.

And then his dad began yelling at Donn for drugging him. And Donn defended himself by saying that nobody had been drugged; Jughead was just being a spoiled brat.

And then Brand probably got a whole lot of paperwork added to his workload, because when Jughead opened his eyes in a serious hurry to see who had fired a gun, it looked like Brand's service weapon that FP had used to shoot a hole in Donn's chair - right between the agent's legs.

Donn's eyes bugged out, and Jughead was impressed, particularly when his dad shrugged mock-apologetically and said very sarcastically that the gun had some drift and a light trigger pull, and he really wasn't comfortable carrying it in such a stressful situation.

All of that helped snap Jughead back into focusing on the task at hand: "Dad, we have to get Trigger. And... we should probably find a sheet."

Then his dad's expression did change - and he looked really worried. "Okay, Jug. Take it easy; we're going to get you some help. Do you still have your cell phone?"

The next few impressions were blurrier: finally being free, and then his dad wrapping him in an incredibly plush throw blanket from the living room that smelled even nicer than his gag had; Donn explaining something complicated to FP about Brand that didn't make any sense; police arriving and asking dozens of questions that Jughead could not possibly know the answers to, and then Agent Donn leaving with one of them as if they were buddies and the cops were not sending him up the river for the rest of his life for stealing Trigger and shooting his partner; Brand arriving and taking charge (and his gun), and Jughead's dad guiding the three of them to a couch so that they could sit together and argue about Brand leaving everyone else alone with the paramedics while the police worked; someone finally taking him seriously enough to look out the back door and confirming that, yes, there was a dead federal agent and a live German Shepherd (his dad had apparently not believed him about it being Trigger until that moment) that had thankfully become a lot more patient as the rain slowed down; both Brand and FP hurriedly abandoning him on the couch to stop the police from approaching Trigger.

There was a lot to be thankful for, Jughead decided as he wrapped himself more tightly in the warm throw blanket. He watched his dad explain that Trigger belonged to Jughead, that he had no idea how the dog had ended up here, but that they'd take him home and figure it out later.

Brand found a leash hanging by the door and suggested rock, paper, scissors. Then he wanted the best three out of five.

The police thought they were being overly dramatic until an officer came back inside from the back yard with a disturbed look on his face. Jughead wanted to explain how Trigger felt - it was easy to lash out when something bad had happened - but his dad was coming back over to sit with him.

"You came after Trigger in a hurry, huh? You forgot that both my phone and Brandon's are at the bottom of the lake?"

Jughead shrugged. Close enough.

Everyone could be mad later, when they checked the phone logs.

His dad seemed to accept that and put an arm around his shoulders.

Brand returned to the living room with Trigger, who was leaping against his leash in delight, and with an armload of great-smelling towels - and put Jughead to work drying his dog's fur.

Everything was just about perfect.

00000

The next morning FP and Brandon were sitting together in the great room on one of the massive leather couches, surrounded by discarded bedding. Jughead was still asleep on the floor, melded into his dog for warmth as well as comfort, even though everyone else was awake. Packing.

The photographer would arrive soon. That should be a fun conversation.

Tom, Fred, and Mary would arrive soon as well. They'd already had phone conversations, though, so that should be simpler. Not easier, but simpler. Neither Kevin nor Joaquin had needed to be hospitalized, or even given stitches once the shards of stone had been removed from their respective arms, so that was also good.

However.

Tom Keller had gotten Brandon on the phone while FP had been going after Jughead. A classic Brandon Davies exchange had followed.

It hadn't particularly helped that Kevin had texted his father a heartfelt goodbye during the firefight when he'd thought they might not make it. Or that Brandon had apparently expressed more criticism of Kevin's inaccurate assessment of the danger than Tom thought was warranted (which was Brandon's version of the story; FP was pretty sure that Tom's disagreement was over the actual level of danger, and not over Brandon casting aspersions on Kevin's ability to assess the danger).

In any event, the whole thing had devolved speedily when Kevin had started shouting his opinions toward Brandon's phone in the middle of the conversation.

FP might need to do some work to get Tom and Brandon talking to each other again. It was not where he preferred to expend his energy, but he did feel responsible for Brandon after everything they'd gone through together.

They'd figure it out somehow, the two of them, with both of the Kellers.

"He's going to be okay. It's going to take time, though. You remember, right?" Brandon tapped FP's shoulder once and then dropped his hand to rest there heavily, as if to steady him.

"Remember what?" FP was confused.

The police and ambulances had (finally) arrived while FP had been navigating the path toward the neighboring property. Archie had taken FP's call from Jughead's cell phone (which was surprisingly still working, and even more surprisingly still had a charge) and directed some police and a paramedic to the neighboring rental. That had taken care of initial crime scene documentation.

Jughead had been in such severe shock that nobody had gotten much out of him beyond what they could already see for themselves.

He was eager to talk about Trigger, said very little about Russell or Donn, and then Jughead had made the casual observation to the police that it had been nice of his dad 'to come after him for once.'

FP and Brandon (who had followed shortly after the police arrived, once he heard that Jughead had been located, leaving the other teens with the paramedics - another decision that Keller probably took issue with) had slapped their foreheads in unison in another one of those weird twinning moments that made them deeply uncomfortable.

"You remember the first time you saw someone die." Brandon gave FP a look of understanding and solidarity. "And Jones is a special case. It's not going to be the same. And it's not like it's ever easy."

FP sat up straighter on the couch. This was news. "But... in Toronto you two had a body count of-,"

"He never saw anything. He was right there, and I don't know how much he heard or what he remembers. But that was all me." Brandon's grip tightened on FP's shoulder. He seemed to be willing the older man to believe him.

And FP did.

"I appreciate your saving his knees." Brandon looked down at Jughead with a pained expression.

"Well. I appreciate your saving his life." FP rubbed a hand over his eyes. They sat in silence for a few moments. "A year ago I complained about things. I don't remember what. I had no idea what I was talking about."

"A year ago I thought..." Brandon's voice trailed off and then he shrugged. "I had options. Too many, maybe."

"That doesn't sound like a problem to me." FP laughed shortly.

"You'd be surprised."

"I wouldn't mind finding out. I'm not that person, though," FP said decisively. "That ship has come and gone more times than I deserved."

"And now you're just marking time until they bury you?" Brandon smirked.

"And trying not to screw even that much up." FP smiled. "You planning to do anything other than help raise my son?"

"Nope. I figure he's enough work to keep us both real busy in the afterlife, too."

"That sounds about right." FP leaned back heavily on the couch. After a few moments he turned to regard Brandon. "When did you serve in the military?"

"Classified. It's all classified."

"Figures."

"Where'd you learn to shoot?"

FP let a slow grin spread across his face. "It's classified."

"Figures. You know I'm not gonna rate with the kid anymore after that little display of marksmanship."

"You never did, Brandon. Sorry to break it to you."

"I know. But it was nice while it lasted." Brandon shrugged, his tone light but his words hesitant. "He looked good in my sunglasses."

FP looked over at Brandon then. "Don't put him in the past tense, Davies. He's right here."

Brandon removed his hand from FP's shoulder and ran both hands through his hair as he leaned forward with a groan. "I can't keep doing this. It isn't fair to him, or to you. I'll play defense from a distance, make sure you're both protected, and keep in some touch with the kid - but we've played it out. The Davies duo is history. "

"And good riddance to that ill-conceived-," FP cut himself off when his anger flared up. He really needed to work on controlling that. "Look, just because he's not your... sidekick, it doesn't mean you're off the hook. You're not running out on the 'wolf pack' or whatever you're calling the collective these days."

Brandon really liked his nicknames.

"Aren't I?" Brandon gave FP a skeptical look in return. "What would you call it?"

"You're going back to Toronto, like a responsible adult. You're still his godfather. You'll still be part of his life."

"You and I both know that's just code for fading into the-,"

"And you'll show up. I know you're capable."

"Is that really what you want?" Brandon watched FP carefully, but with something that looked like hope.

"I'm not engraving invitations over here, Davies." FP glowered. "Just... don't fade away on him. On us."

Brandon blinked. He looked over at Jughead. "Okay. I'll show up."

"Good." FP figured he'd live to regret this, but not as much as he'd have regretted doing anything other than this.

"He saved my life once. I don't think you ever got that whole story." Brandon seemed surprised but grateful - and this sounded right away like a trade. Like he was somehow trying to respond in kind for FP making him welcome in their lives, and in Riverdale.

FP settled back onto the couch and Brandon began telling him tales of Toronto from a perspective that he had not heard before.

00000

The pleasant conversation between FP and Brandon lasted for about an hour.

Then Tom suggested that he might try sitting down with Jug before everyone went to the airport in the afternoon, and shared the bizarre update that Donn was not being investigated, charged, detained, or anything else.

FP could not understand Donn going free; he'd seen the man winding up to destroy his son's knees with a baseball bat. He'd shot his way through a plate glass window in order to make it in time to stop him. He'd given a damning report of what he'd witnessed and also what he had been told on the scene by Donn himself - which had seemed much as if he'd been giving a report for FP to pass along to Brandon.

Donn had sent the letters to Jughead. He had done so in order to 'get in good with Brandon,' who had looked like he was very close to combusting when he started to piece together the strange logic.

The 'getting in good' part eluded FP more than anything else, but Brandon had attempted to explain that through analogy since actually explaining was - as usual - impossible.

Apparently those coded threats from Brandon to Jughead to keep him from treading on danger were somehow distant cousins of the threatening notes. Taking an aluminum bat to Jughead's knees had been Donn's more permanent answer to the 'time-out.' Shooting Russell in cold blood right in front of Jug before the situation could escalate - or resolve itself - had been 'protecting' him.

If Jughead had been having trouble sleeping, Donn might have tried to euthanize him.

It was all in the name of helping Brandon. Somehow impressing him. For some wholly unknown reason, or so Brandon claimed again and again.

And, oh yeah, FP still could not be 'read into' anything. For Jughead's protection and his own.

Best. Vacation. Ever.

00000

Trigger was freaking out.

Jughead understood. They'd been separated for a long time. But he really wanted to keep snorkeling for a little while longer.

Everyone else had packed or was still packing, and Archie had come down to sit on the dock and watch Jughead swim back and forth in a wetsuit, with the dive mask and fins he'd located in the lodge. He'd already found Brand's knife, and he was sure he'd find more if he just took his time and used a pattern to search. The gun was down here somewhere as well, but Jughead wasn't sure he'd retrieve that if he did find it.

Aha - he was pretty sure he was seeing a wallet now. Jughead dove and swam for the bottom.

And there was a splash above him.

When Jughead came up, Brand's wallet in hand, he was surprised to see that it was Trigger and not Archie who had leapt in.

"Hey, buddy. I'm fine. You hate the water, and you don't have a wetsuit." Jughead pushed Trigger in toward the shore as he paddled. "Come on; it's cold. Let's get this into the pile and you can stay out in the sun to dry off." Everyone had been complaining about the smell of wet dog.

"How long are you planning to do this?" Archie hadn't objected to the snorkeling plan, but Jughead was pretty sure he'd been assigned to 'don't let Jughead do anything crazy' duty.

"I want to find the car keys and my dad's wallet," Jughead answered as he dropped Brand's wallet next to his knife. "I think they were frisked one at a time, so I've got to work through Brand's stuff before I'll find my dad's."

"Okay." Archie looked out toward the swim raft. "It's not as far away as it seemed last night."

"Nope." Jughead waded back into the water and began to swim again. The keys were going to be the trickiest, so he'd need to figure out how to look for them efficiently.

After a few more minutes of searching, another splash surprised him, and Jughead popped his head up to see why Trig was back in the water.

"Want help?" It was Betty; she must have found more of the diving gear in the lodge.

"Sure." Jughead smiled. "You can be the one to ask Brand if we can keep any cash we find, okay? He's big on 'privacy,' so his wallet's probably loaded."

Brand was in a hammock, watching him swim from a distance, and Jughead was virtually certain that his dad was out of his view but somewhere that allowed him to see down to the water as well.

The wolf pack had almost been wiped out, and while Jughead didn't want to think about that right now, while they were still on vacation for a few more hours, he could see that Brand and his dad were thinking about it. A lot.

"Sounds like a plan." Betty did not smile back; she just looked at him worriedly.

Everyone was insisting that Jughead was still in shock and not as fine as he'd felt when he got up this morning. It seemed likely that they were right, but Jughead wished they'd just let him enjoy feeling okay - especially if that feeling was not going to last.

Jughead and Betty found a rhythm and swam side by side along the path they thought the boat had taken the night before.

"Hey," Jughead popped up for more air and to get another opinion. "Does that look like something?"

Betty dove this time, and suddenly they had the car keys and FP's pocketknife.

"This would have been way more useful than mine last night," Jughead admitted ruefully. He swam over to the dock this time, since they were further out in the water and swimming to shore would take longer. He pried open the blades so that the knife could dry.

"Did you talk to Sheriff Keller yet?" Betty asked while she waited, treading water.

Veronica was walking out onto the dock. She joined Archie where he was sitting and watching the salvage mission. Jughead waved and she gave him a concerned look and a very delayed wave in return.

"Nah, I gave him the slip," Jughead gave Betty a lopsided grin. "I have to eat lunch with him. Mano a mano, but with my dad and Brand there to make sure that nobody gets tortured."

Betty didn't laugh.

"Hey, it's all good now. I've got Trig. Brand programmed my speed dial this morning." Brand had been sitting over a YouTube video trying to figure that out when he had woken up, and Jughead really appreciated it. He could have figured it out on his own, but Brand had somehow programmed everyone into three groups based on how useful he deemed them, with nicknames related to when each person should be called for particular types of emergencies.

It was funny. That helped.

"You're included in the 'first line of defense,' so you should feel honored," Jughead added. "Archie and Veronica are in the 'if all else fails' category. There's an asterisk next to Kevin's name. It's a real system."

Betty still wasn't laughing.

Jughead decided to just return to swimming and searching. If Betty was like him, she probably needed a good workout and then things would seem better.

It was worth a shot.

And hey, there was his dad's wallet. Jughead dove again.

00000

Fred Andrews was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.

He and Mary had tried their hardest to be warm and reassuring with Alice, who seemed to have a deep suspicion of Tom Keller, but that whole ordeal had gone far beyond heartbreaking. Putting her on a flight alone, even knowing that Hermione would be waiting when she got off of the plane, felt very wrong.

Tom had driven like a maniac on speed, so even the drive itself had been stressful, and just when they'd thought they would get a reprieve on the way back - since they were no longer hurrying to get to Alice - Kevin had sent his father the kind of text you can only pray never comes to you.

And then Fred and Mary had begun texting Archie, praying for even that much.

There had been hours of tense driving while nobody at the lodge was responding to calls or texts. They eventually picked up a state trooper escort when Keller was pulled over for speeding, flashed his badge, and explained what was going on.

And then, at long last, Fred had finally gotten a text back.

It was a brief video that Archie had taken with his phone of Jughead wielding a tiny pocketknife on the swim raft, in rainfall so heavy that it was clearly visible in the footage. White capped waves surrounded the raft, and someone (Brandon, they were later told) was lying with his back to the camera, arms tied together with black rope.

Archie had apparently been inspired when he'd been asked to use the flashlight feature on his phone to help Jughead see what he was doing on the raft. He still insisted that he'd merely been 'getting Jughead back' for the photos of him that had scared Veronica when his arm had gotten caught while diving, and that he'd thought that the video would 'get everyone up to speed.'

But Fred was not going to get those years of his life back.

Even after that first text was immediately followed by a grinning group selfie in the great room of the lodge (the texts were clearly sent a while after that first video had been shot), and then quite a few explanatory messages, Fred had found it difficult to process any new information. He'd even encouraged Tom to 'step on it,' which was entirely unnecessary.

After all of that, Fred found it bizarrely comforting to claim a hammock near Brandon, watch the boys from a distance, and discuss at length various employee management challenges he'd faced at Andrews Construction over the years.

Fred was used to people being bored by construction talk - let alone the daily dramas involved when overseeing men doing tiring and sometimes dangerous tasks - so it was nice to have a willing audience for some of the stories he'd found interesting or amusing over the years.

Brandon had been particularly interested in strategies for managing overeager employees whose energy led to problems, which Fred confessed he'd like to see more of. Nevertheless, he had known a mason who had considered himself an artist more than someone who was bound by the desires - and constraints - of those paying for the work.

Fred had worked with the man for years, with mixed results during some of that time, and he shared story after story - and Brandon kept on asking for more. It was generous of him to act so interested, and Fred had to admit that the conversation relaxed him even more than the sway of the hammock - and reminded him that most of life was in fact that mundane.

And it would be once again.

00000

"End of the line, kid." Brandon opened his car door and motioned for Jughead to get out as well. He had made arrangements for a rental car in eastern Michigan, and they had just pulled into the agency's lot.

They'd opted to road-trip back to Riverdale - with Brandon leaving the Joneses when they got closer to Toronto - so that Trigger would not have to be crated for a flight. They'd gotten Trigger a dog harness for the car, an errand that FP had regretted missing as soon as he came back from his own (getting road trip snacks) and saw that Brandon had both Trigger and Jughead harnessed and clipped into the back seat.

Brandon had made an awful lot of comments about his driving, and even Jughead had pointed out that his dad had said once before that it would be a good idea for him to get gear that matched Trig's.

The fact that Jughead had insisted on wearing the harness for hours of their trip - and only taken it off when FP refused to pull into any rest stops with his son looking like a hostage NASCAR driver - was evidence that he was feeling increasingly anxious about Brandon leaving. He'd clearly wanted to prolong the joke for as long as possible and keep the tone light in the vehicle.

And Jughead was still eerily upbeat.

They were definitely headed for a crash, and FP was certain that it was going to be epic when it happened. Thankfully he still had a couple of days off from work, so they could batten the hatches and weather whatever came next.

And God knew FP was not planning to leave Jughead alone until that happened and he returned to a (much) more even keel. Everything about his current affect was screaming instability, which meant that he was wholly unpredictable.

Brandon had the same instinct (he'd given FP some unsolicited advice when they'd had a few moments to themselves at the last rest stop; it had involved handcuffs and the extra dog harness he'd bought), but he played along in the car, teasing both of the Joneses and dropping his front seat back onto Jughead, who was then trapped when he had trouble persuading Trigger to share more of the back seat.

That was actually an improvement over Jughead's previous posture, which had involved leaning forward between the two front seats with one arm around Trigger but almost all of his torso up front with his father and Brandon.

If there had been a seat in the space between Brandon and FP, they'd no doubt all three be up front - and maybe Trigger as well, if Jughead could figure out a way to do that safely.

It was true that he'd come close to having one more thing in common with Alice: Jughead had come perilously close to making this trip home with the Andrews family and facing the prospect of moving back in with them. Permanently.

Or, as Jughead had put it when he'd demanded more information during their lunchtime talk with Tom Keller, "You actually wrote a will? You're leaving me to Mr. Andrews if you die? He's never even shot anyone, dad."

Tom had looked horrified, and FP had to admit that it was not even close to what he'd expected Jug to say in response to that information.

Thankfully Brandon hadn't even blinked (Fred being Jughead's 'godfather' in the legal sense should not have been in any way a surprise to him, though it was news to him), and quickly assured Jughead that he'd stick around if that happened. Presumably to shoot people. FP figured he should just be grateful that part was left unsaid.

But Jughead had immediately pointed out that Brandon had been right next to FP on the raft. With a little less luck, they both could have been gone.

For all of those reasons, Brandon and FP had not insisted that Jughead get off the center console and sit back in his seatbelt.

"You're sure we can't go to Niagara Falls?" Jughead had been poring over a map on his phone for the past thirty minutes or so, and pointed out how convenient a side trip would be. "You both still have time off."

"You can't go into Canada right now, so that would be awfully difficult with Brandon going through Sarnia." FP got out of the car as well. This hadn't been how he'd intended to tell Jughead about the paperwork going through for his name change, but here they were.

"I'm a dual citizen. Like Brand," Jughead shot FP a challenging look. Yep; this was already shaping up to be a difficult goodbye.

"You are not a dual citizen-" that was one of the few things that had not been rubber stamped by Brandon's agency "-and your passport is not currently in your legal name, Jug." FP opened the trunk so that Brand could retrieve his luggage, and he rifled through his own suitcase for a moment. "Here's the letter."

Jughead accepted it and read it carefully. FP had hoped for a little more enthusiasm, but he knew that the timing was far from conducive to that. He'd meant to do this when they'd gotten some one-on-one time during the vacation, but that had not been in the cards.

Brandon read over Jughead's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Well, well, Trip."

"I guess I'm not a Davies anymore." Jughead shrugged, but FP saw that he was watching Brandon's expression closely.

"Which means I might just have to start working for your affections," Brandon widened his eyes in mock horror. "Who knows… I might need to start by looking into getting you an internship, and maybe dropping by once you've gotten settled in and broken a few cases wide open. What do you say?"

"It could work." Jughead's eyes crinkled before his smile broke through.

"Come here and give your godfather a hug. Then I'm hitting the road, because we've both got long drives ahead of us." Brandon made brief eye contact with FP and it was clear that he'd also noticed the signs that this could be quick - or it could be painful.

Jughead obediently hugged him.

"Now, take my hunting knife and don't ever let me see you with a toy pocketknife again." Brandon held out what FP was pretty sure was his favorite weapon. Great.

"Can I have your sunglasses too?" Jughead did not seem overly excited about the knife either, though he clipped it to his belt without argument. "I'll keep them safe."

"No. You have to borrow those, just like everybody else," Brandon retorted. "Give you my sunglasses? Come on, kid." Brandon slid them onto Jughead's face. "I'll be back for them. Once you're settled in at that internship."

Jughead nodded.

"Come on. One more hug for the road. It's a lot of road." Brandon held his arms open a second time, and this time Jughead launched into him.

FP had intended to give them space, but Brandon beckoned him over to join the hug.

"Come on, FP, I know you like me. And my pretty face. Did your father tell you how he protected my good looks from those goons that took us prisoner?" Brandon pulled FP into the hug with both hands.

"You told me." Jughead was still smiling, but he was trying to edge out of the hug now that he was trapped between his dad and Brandon. "Why do you keep bringing that up? He only did it because you're younger."

"It's adorable that you think that. And I keep bringing it up so you know that I'll be around; my being involved in your life is not just your father's penance. Not anymore," Brand said. He hesitated before continuing in a stage whisper: "Don't tell your dad, but when Alice wrote that article, he started accepting 'the guy who took Jones to Toronto.' Now I think he's actually accepting Brand Davies."

Jughead twisted around so that he could see his dad's expression and reaction to that.

FP simply submitted to the hug and patted Brandon on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Davies."

"I programmed your speed dial too, old man," Brandon continued looking down at Jughead even though he was ostensibly addressing FP, "and guess who's first on the list. In case of behavioral issues."

FP sighed. They'd gotten replacement cell phones before they'd begun the road trip, and he had no doubt that Brandon had indeed reprogrammed his phone. That was unlikely to be the only change he'd find, too, if Brandon's grin was any indication.

"Be sure you miss me. And I want you to FaceTime me as soon as you get home, kid. You've got the monster and your dad. I'll be all alone in the townhouse."

Jughead nodded, still trying to get out of the awkward hug.

FP was about to pull back and let Jughead go when he felt Brandon shift his arms down so that they enclosed Jughead.

And then Brandon was free, walking away as he hefted his luggage, and Jughead was left behind in FP's embrace.

00000

Epilogue

00000

Ten minutes later, Jughead's phone buzzed.

"Hey, do me three favors, kid," Brand said when Jughead answered. "Put on my sunglasses, get in the front seat - your father is not a chauffeur, and your dog is fine -, and call me back with video once you're done crying. We never did get your dad to sing the trucker song about a convoy that he made the grave mistake of mentioning. And I really think we were wearing him down."

Jughead agreed.

FP eyed him as he climbed over the center console, but did not comment.

That is, until the video call began and Jughead set the phone up on the dashboard so they could both see and hear Brand. Then there was commentary.

"We should all find a place to get ice cream," Jughead finally suggested. "Let me know when you see one, Brand, and I'll look for one too."

FP ruffled his son's hair affectionately.

"I saw that," Brand's voice came through the phone. "Keep it up, FP, but the kid's smart. He won't accept substitutes."

Jughead raised an eyebrow at Brand. "Dad's not a substitute, Brand. He's the original."

"Original what?"

Jughead bantered with Brand for a little while longer, but he also watched his dad relaxing into the drive and finally promised to call again when he got home. Brand gave him a knowing smile.

"Gotta give your bio dad some attention, Trip?"

Jughead smirked. "He and I need to come up with something to get you back for the rappelling plan." They'd never pranked his dad, but they had been forced to explain how Jughead and Archie had managed their dramatic escape from the lodge.

"You were in on that plan. Traitor."

"And now I can be in on whatever we come up with to do to you," Jughead was smug.

"Now you're talking like a kid who's got two parents." Brand's grin widened when FP grunted unhappily.

Jughead grinned back, with mischief in his eyes. "Nah. You're just my fairy godfather." He disconnected the call while Brand was still protesting.

"Thanks, Dad," Jughead said as he leaned his seat back slightly. He reached for the radio to turn it on, and began scanning for a classic rock station that his dad would approve. "I know that was an awful lot of Brand. A whole month."

"That was slightly longer than a month," FP raised an eyebrow, but then he smiled. "But Brandon's okay. We've got a few things in common. It will be nice to get back to it being just the two of us, though. And Trigger."

Jughead reached into the back seat to pet Trig. "Our wolf pack." It was Brand's phrase, but Jughead figured he could steal it for him and his dad.

"You bet." His dad used another one of Brand's phrases.

Jughead smiled when FP dropped a hand onto his shoulder and left it there as they drove toward home.

00000

The ending to this story wrote itself (that last image with Brand leaving) and I had to add the epilogue because it was SO SAD (to me, anyway). Brand ripping off the band-aid while Jughead was restrained in FP's hug was going to kill me. It's the right final image, and everything is changing (again) for them, and in many ways it probably should be the end of the trilogy (yeah, I know, the 'trilogy' with the unbelievably long third story that became two stories, the second half of which is literally twice the length of the other stories... yep...), but again: SO SAD.

And the Serpents are still waiting. And Joaquin. Alice Carter's got a new situation. Trigger probably needs some TLC.

So.

(you know the drill, right?)

The next story is titled "Shifting Territories," if you're reading this it's probably live already (yay!), and I'm going to try to set it up so readers can theoretically enjoy it as a stand-alone (barriers to entry reduced!), but I'm honestly not sure that's possible. Or wise. (the back story seems essential, right?) We shall see!

If you're still on the journey, I'll love to hear how you liked the conclusion to this story, and I'll look forward to digging into a more town-of-Riverdale-heavy sequel. :-D I'll look for you there!

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