What's up, everyone! I'm still alive! It's just been awhile.

Lots of changes in my work and life as I'm in the middle of moving states so, yeah. There's been a lot going on and the world is still on fire.

This chapter is another one of my famous two parters and I was going to wait until I had the second part completed before posting this, but it's not and you've waited long enough so I thought I'd go ahead and upload to tide you over and let you know I'm still alive.

Thank you to those that checked in with me and understood the pause after my I left that message. I'm doing a bit better but also a bit weirder since everything is still changing and COVID is still happening.

Boris Yeltsin, thanks so much for being a constant reviewer and sticking with this!

Guest, I'm glad last chapter was worth the wait for you and I know the wait has been even longer for this story to continue, slowly but surely.

AvidMovieFan16, Thanks for sticking with this story as well and for the great notes over the last few chapters!

ButtonMashr, Thank you to the continuously heartwarming and detailed reviews! I love seeing what details stick out to you and the little things you catch. Writing FP has been quite addicting and continues to be. That little bit with Jughead in the waiting room observations is also some of my favorite bits as well! I'm glad Mary had a great entrance, that whole scene was so long but had so many good things happening in it. And yes, I'm so glad the cheeseburger line made you laugh! It made me laugh when it suddenly appeared in my brain :) Thanks for being a consistent supporter!

Kish99, Thank you so much for the kind words and for *blushingly* calling this the best written Riverdale fanfic. I try.

SPARKlingwater, Thanks so much! I am continuing the storyline, if not slowly. But it's going! There are scenes I really want to get to!

That's it! Once again, thanks so much for the support and patience! Now on with the show!


Chapter 16: The Kids Aren't Alright Pt. I

"But she just got back! She hasn't even been home yet."

"I know, Jughead, but it makes it a lot harder to leave for a debrief if she goes home first," Charles stated, his hands going into his pockets as he walked across the room. "It's only two, possibly three days max. I promise."

Jughead crossed his arms. "Then why'd you even let her come back to Riverdale in the first place if you were just going to take her away again?" Jughead argued, giving Charles a displeased brow raise.

"Guys. I am right here."

Betty stepped away from where she had been standing with Dr. Patel and Alice and began toward the boys. "I can speak for myself, stop talking about me."

Jughead smiled, swinging an arm carefully over her shoulders as she reached him. "But I like talking about you."

It was a relief seeing her up and moving after watching her be resigned to a hospital bed for the past few days. She had finally been cleared to leave but, (of course) before she could even step foot out of the hospital, the FBI had swooped in, saying she was needed for a procedural debrief just as Alice had.

He knew it was necessary but he didn't like the idea of her having to go away again. And so soon.

"And for the record, I appreciated that decision, Charles," Betty emphasized, smirking cheekily at Jughead before turning away.

Jughead rolled his eyes but continued to smile.

She was recovering well; almost all her bruising had faded and she was regaining her strength fairly quickly. The reemergence of sass in her tone was surely a good sign too.

"Thank you, Betty," Charles replied, throwing Jughead a similar smirk. "But I can't actually take credit for that; Agent Kane made the arrangement."

"What?" Jughead puffed sarcastically. "Are you telling me Quinton has a soft side?"

Charles nodded, the flicker of a smile on the corner of his lips. "I'm sure he'll happily show it to you one day, especially if you keep calling him that." He pulled a hand out of his pocket, flipping his sleeve away from his wrist to look at his watch. He glanced over top of Betty and Jughead. "Alice, you almost done? Betty and I need to get going. It's a bit of a drive to the field office."

Alice looked up from the papers she had been going through with Dr. Patel and scribbled something hurriedly. "We're just finishing up." She dropped the pen back in her purse and scurried toward Betty. "Oh, sweetie, do you have everything you need? Change of clothes? Snacks? Your medicine?"

"Yes, Mom," Betty muttered, reaching across the bed and shaking her backpack at her mother before slinging it over her shoulder. She handed a second bag to Charles.

"Oh, hold on, you almost forgot Cheryl's gift," Jughead piped up, swinging his head toward the small mass of hospital chairs in the room, a giant stuffed bear perched in one of them. "I bet you'll need that."

Betty followed his eyes and grinned. "You know, something tells me I'll be okay without it." Her gaze lingered there for a moment and when she turned back around there was something of a mischievous gleam about her face. "You should hide it in Archie's room," she teased.

"Oh, now that's just mean," Jughead hummed, cracking a smile. He leaned down and lowered his voice, his lips brushing over hers as she silently chuckled. "I like how you think, Cooper."

"Ahem."

Jughead sighed, slowly pulling away to peer over Betty's head.

Alice was giving him a contemptuous stare, her arms crossed. "Jughead, don't you have somewhere to be?"

Jughead snorted.

"She's right, Jughead." Charles joined back in the conversation, his eyes flicking to his watch again as he tried to get Alice to join him in the doorway, seemingly trying to give Betty and Jughead at least a little bit of privacy. "You definitely won't get to see softie Kane if you're late."

Jughead snorted again.

"Hey, come on," Betty laid a hand over his crossed arms. "I think it will be good for you."

Jughead searched the well-meaning eyes staring up at him.

The FBI wanted to not only coop Betty up in stuffy rooms and force her to talk but everyone else as well it seemed. He and the others had each been mandated an FBI-sanctioned counseling session due to their witness of events in Cornwall. Jughead figured they were only being so persistent about it to overcompensate for the apparent oversight the first time around The Farm had meddled in town, but nonetheless, now he had to spend the day with a stranger that would no doubt enjoy trying to prod feelings out of him.

"Maybe," he grumbled, turning away. "I'm just a bit leery to talk to someone that makes a living out of getting inside people's heads."

Betty's hand slipped away from his and when he looked back down she had turned her face away and was now staring out the window, her green eyes stormy and lost on something in the distance.

"Oh hey, I'm sorry." He pressed himself closer and rested his head on top of hers. "That probably wasn't the best choice of words," he whispered into her hair as he grabbed her hand back, trying to drag her attention away from whatever had just seized her mind.

She had opened up more in the last few days as she had begun to feel better physically. He, Archie, and Veronica (or some variation of the three) had visited every day after school throughout the week.

They had gained a few more pieces of the story, such as the delusional rhetoric Edgar had given Betty her first night in the cabin, and the unsettling detail that she had actually been back in Riverdale more than once, but every time the conversation got a bit too close to those instances, she would get quiet.

Jughead had been the one to tell everyone to give her time, but he was having a hard time following his own advice.

He wanted to understand what she was seeing when her eyes got distant, what she was thinking when she turned silent and, given the things he had heard Edgar spout in the clearing and on the tape, he knew it couldn't be pretty.

And maybe it was a bit pretentious of him, but he thought he should be able to know what had happened to his girlfriend before the FBI did.

Jughead sighed. "I just don't understand why you can't do all your interviews and stuff here like us."

"She has to do a bit more than you, Jughead," Charles remarked gently, his eyes sending a quick glance toward Betty as he stepped back into the room. "But if you really need to talk to her while we're gone, you can always call me."

Jughead started to mutter an answer back but Betty turned to face him before he could say anything. She shook her head as though trying to shake away lingering thoughts and said, "Seriously, Jug, it's okay. You don't have to worry." She began pulling him toward the door. "I'll be fine."

"That's what you said last time," he whispered, narrowing his eyes as he walked beside her toward the door.

An incensed frown suddenly flashed across her face and she took a step backward.

"Don't start doing that."

"Doing what?" He crinkled his brow. He must have misread her response.

"That." She tetchily gestured with one arm at him, her eyes turning up in frustration. "You know I'm just going with the FBI."

"I know that. I just… I just want you to finally go home."

"I know." Betty gave a soft smile through an obviously still pained face. "Just… I don't need you getting overprotective, okay?"

"You ready?" Charles called, standing in the doorway with Betty's bag hoisted over his shoulder, an expectant look on his face.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Betty called back, pulling her hand away from Jughead's and wrapping it around the strap on her backpack instead. "I'll see you in a few days. Don't keep everything in your head, okay?"

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek then turned, disappearing with Charles around the corner, leaving Jughead standing alone in the now empty room.


FP stood at the top of the gray stone steps in front of the police station, his back to the doors as he absently twisted the papers in his hands. He watched his breath curl into the morning air for a few moments while he listened to a few playful sparrows twitter overhead.

Staring down at the papers in his grip, FP tapped against them lightly with his thumb before looking back up at the street, toward the officers strolling around the line of cruisers, their indistinct radio chatter joining in with the gleeful chirping of the birds.

It was a bright, crisp, beautiful morning, so he put a grin on his face, nodding gently to the people that passed him as they filtered in and out of the station.

FP glanced over his shoulder, curling the papers in his hands once more as he caught a small reflection of himself in the glass doors. He bobbed his head and sighed, walking down the steps into the cold November day and away from the red brick station that had just begun to feel like home.


The sun shimmered through the car window, its rays dipping between the patches of evergreen trees lining the highway. The red brick of downtown Riverdale had fallen away some time ago, giving way to vast hills and countryside stretching toward the horizon on either side of the road.

Betty had never given much thought toward the scenery around Riverdale – she had grown up around it after all - that is, until parts of it started forming the backdrops to her nightmares.

Like the winding river that had once been a peaceful hang out on a hot summer's day until a body washed up onshore. Or the forest at the base of the mountain that used to act as a sprawling playground complete with treehouses and stick forts, but now only played host to the rotting ruins of a desolate hunting ground.

How strange it was that things so familiar could become so foreign when touched by a shadow instead of the sun.

But – for now – that shadow was out of sight.

Betty felt a trill of delight swirling in her chest as she watched the scenery zip by, her eyes glued to a sparkling lake that was rippling out from underneath the bridge they were crossing.

It was here. The rest of the world was still here.

"Temperature okay?" Charles asked from the driver's seat. "Need the heat turned up?"

Betty's hand moved of its own accord to the closest vent. Warm air blasted onto her palm, coiling between her fingers as it drifted through the car and into lungs all too eager to drink in a breathe that didn't sting of stale wood or disinfectant.

"No." She smiled. "This is good."

"Alright, well just let me know if you get uncomfortable." Charles moved his hand away from the console. "We've still got about an hour to go."

Betty gave a slight nod, lowering her arm back into her lap. The lake gave way to trees, which in turn gave way to rolling farmland, allowing the sun to shine full force through the passenger-side window, finally giving Betty cause to turn her eyes away.

She sighed and reached for the backpack nestled at her feet and began to rifle through it. Her hand pushed aside a few bags of snacks and a jacket but didn't find what it was looking for.

"Need something?"

Betty lifted her head, leaning back into her seat at Charles' question. "I packed a book but I think it may be in the other bag."

"Here, I got it." Charles quickly glanced in his mirrors then twisted an arm backward, reaching blindly into the backseat. His tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he fished the duffle bag from the floor with a small grunt and handed it to Betty.

She unzipped the main compartment, riffled through a few shirts, and then sure enough her hand wrapped around the well-worn cover of a hardback. She pulled it out onto her lap.

Charles glanced over as she pushed the bag between them and arched an eyebrow. "Toni Morrison?"

"Yeah." Betty raised her own curious eyebrow back. "You a fan?"

"I admire her work but she's not my favorite. I prefer Ian Fleming or Arthur Conan Doyle myself."

"Ah." Betty bobbed her head, "Of course. You and Jughead both." She turned away, tapping a finger against the top of her book, a small tug of irritation resurfacing. She quickly shook it away and turned back to Charles. "You seem to have gotten closer – you and Jughead."

"Yeah, we have," Charles replied cheerfully, casually resting a hand on top of the steering wheel.

"That's great," Betty responded, still a bit distracted. "He barely wanted anything to do with you before."

"No. No, he didn't," Charles chuckled out of the side of his mouth. "Did he ever end up telling you about when he came to help me investigate at the Sisters?"

Betty shook her head.

"Let's just say he wasn't there for the brotherly camaraderie." Charles straightened himself up in his seat. "And he wasn't there to investigate the scene at the Sisters either."

"What?" Betty's eyes widened. "He thought you…? Oh my god, he really tried casing you, didn't he?" Charles nodded and Betty felt herself inadvertently blush as she went to rub her forehead. "Well, it makes sense actually – we don't exactly have the best track record with family members. And he does like to entertain a good conspiracy theory now and then."

"Don't we all." Charles grinned.

A smile spread across Betty's lips too as she imagined Jughead trying to covertly profile their brother. She snickered. "He's not very subtle."

"No, he's not," Charles laughed back. "But he came around eventually. Over some cheeseburgers, no less. Pop's seems to have a magic all its own when it comes to resolution."

"That it does." Betty nodded in agreement.

Charles looked over. "In the end though, what really brought us together was you." He was giving her a decidedly sympathetic smile and Betty felt herself blushing again.

"And not just because we had to work the case together," Charles continued, "He was trying to make good on a promise, too."

The swell in her chest returned, suddenly feeling warm and thick like honey, and she smiled.

Yet Jughead's words from that morning still nagged at her. "I wish he would try making good on another promise."

"Hey, give him a little time, maybe put some Pop's in him - he'll come around. You've only been back for a few days. His reaction is completely normal. Reverse the situation; if Jughead had gone missing for a month and then come back injured, how would you be feeling right now?"

She thought about that for a moment. Jughead tended to need a fair amount of space whenever a major incident occurred, that was just part of his nature. Her nature too, if she were being honest, and she knew Jughead knew that.

But maybe he was just trying to make up physically for the space that had been put between them. He so rarely shared his heart with anyone else but her, so maybe his desire to stick close was his way of reminding her that she was safe. Or maybe it was his way of reminding himself that she was.

Hadn't she practically done the same thing after he was left for dead on Riot Night?

She sighed and met Charles' eyes and he gave her a slight head nod, the understanding passing between them. They fell into silence and Charles began mindlessly tapping against the steering wheel. Speckles of sunlight fluttered along the front dash, sending golden flecks dancing across Betty's vision as she relaxed back into her seat.

"Thanks for letting me sit up front," she eventually said.

"No problem," he hummed, continuing to tap his made-up tune on top of the steering wheel. "You nervous?"

"A little." Betty rested her elbow on the edge of the window. "It'll be like when I first gave my testimony about The Farm, right? Except for this time there will be more people to talk to, and…" she let her words drift for a moment, "…more to talk about."

Charles nodded. "You'll mainly be with the same people the whole time, myself included. Everything is to help us understand as much as possible about the events that occurred, so we can make sure the proper actions are taken moving forward. But it's also to make sure you get the help and resources you need. One of the agents we arranged for you to meet specializes in working alongside kidnapping victims."

Betty stared at the road, a twinge starting in her chest. Kidnapping victim. Wonderful, she thought dryly. One more label to add to the list.

"Are you okay with all that?" Charles asked, his eyes falling on her hand that had begun to absently pick at the sling.

"Yeah, of course." Betty nodded, straightening up. "I'll talk with as many people as I need to."

"You sure?" Charles probed, not even trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. "Because you told Jughead not to keep everything in his head but I know you've been having trouble talking about what happened with your friends."

Betty swiveled her head toward Charles.

"It's okay, that's normal too," he continued, his tone gentle. "I can't imagine it's easy stuff."

Betty gave a soft huff. "No, it's not," she muttered mostly to herself as the sun vanished behind the line of trees.

She leaned her head up against the window, flipping open her book and thumbing at the frayed edge of the first page.

Places weren't the only things changed when touched by a shadow.


FP pushed open the front door to the house, wanting nothing more than to just drop down onto the couch and not move from there for the rest of the day.

But before he could even make it past the foyer, he heard a voice call his name.

"Oh good! FP, you're just in time." Alice appeared in the small hallway leading to the dining room, a folded piece of paper and purse in her hands.

FP nudged his own papers closer to his side as Alice approached him. "In time for what?"

"Errands, of course."

"Of course," FP breathed to himself as Alice looked at him as though that should have been obvious.

"I have so much to do now that I'm back." She indicated the piece of paper in her hand and gave FP an expectant stare.

He blinked. "Alice, you've been in and out of the hospital and FBI questioning all week. Don't you want to just, you know, rest for a bit?" He shuffled slightly toward the living room, his voice softening. "I mean, you haven't been home in months."

"That's exactly why I need to get moving on this list," she replied with an indignant bite, sliding her purse over her shoulder. "I haven't had any time since I got back to take care of things." She stopped in front of the door and roved a judgmental eye over the house. "And you need some help taking care of things. Betty can't come back to the house looking like this."

"Hey!"

The house wasn't that much of a mess.

"Are you working today?" Alice turned, cutting him off before he could further defend the cleanliness of the house.

FP stiffened slightly and tapped his leg. "No. No, I'm not."

"Great!" Alice chirped, grabbing FP's keys and sticking them in his direction. "Then you're free for the day. I'll need some help with a few things. Let's see…" She flipped open the folded paper. "We need to stop by RIVW, I need to get a new phone for Betty, oh, and the groceries in the house are just abysmal…"

Alice's words started to run together in FP's head as she continued down the list of errands. He glanced back toward the living room, his own desire to rest and ignore the day pulling at him.

Then he looked back at Alice.

There was something about the way her eyes kept scanning the hand-written list, and how the paper shook ever so slightly in her grasp that told him she really couldn't rest. Not yet.

So he grabbed his keys.

"Alright," he sighed. "Just let me file some paperwork and we can get going."


"New office?"

Jughead plodded behind Agent Kane as they walked through the halls of a small building downtown. "What, you get tired of working in the haunted mansion?"

"We cleared our presence from the former Farm compound in preparation for the trial. I sent most of the agents back to the field office already and now just have a smaller team to handle a few odds and ends remaining with the case. So no need for a giant base of operations."

Agent Kane staunchly ignored Jughead's comment.

"So what am I, then? An odd or an end?" Jughead shot back without skipping a beat, a roguish smile creeping across his face.

Kane raised an eyebrow this time but didn't answer, instead turning a corner and stopping.

They had entered a small offshoot of a hallway that appeared to be set up as a waiting room. A water cooler sat at one end of the hall while a few chairs were lined up along the walls, most already occupied by his friends.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, Jones. We'll start once everyone has arrived."

Agent Kane disappeared back around the corner as Jughead looked around, taking a seat across from Veronica.

"Where's Archie? I thought for sure I'd be the last one here," Jughead asked her, continuing to glance around the hall. Cheryl was wearing an expression that told him she shared in his sentiment about the forced counseling. Kevin was the only one of the group who looked ready and eager to be there.

"He promised his mom he'd make up all the football practices he missed. Including the early morning ones." Veronica crossed her legs, sliding the phone she had been vapidly scrolling through back into her purse.

Jughead puffed. "That's rough."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Archie, gym bag in tow, trudged around the corner and sank down into the chair next to Veronica with a groan. "The first Saturday Betty's back, the first weekend we can relax, and it starts with 7 am weight lifting and this." He waved his hand, gesturing around the hall as he rested his head back against the wall. "And with no time for a nap in between."

"Or a shower apparently." Veronica glanced at him teasingly, though she bunched her eyebrows at the same time. "But speaking of Betty-," she turned toward Jughead and folded her hands, her voice laced with concern. "How is she?"

Jughead massaged his eyes. "She left with Charles for the field office this morning."

"Not what I meant." Veronica stared at him with a bit more indignation but her tone remained soft. Archie was staring inquiringly at him now too.

Jughead rubbed a hand on his neck. He knew he hadn't been the only one to notice Betty wasn't fully back.

"She's… okay. I think." Jughead let out a crestfallen exhale. "One moment she's herself, the next she's… distant." He leaned back, resting his head on the top of the chair. He wasn't sure if that was the right word to use; it felt too… simple. He'd seen ghosts in her eyes before, but now…

His fingers twitched against the arms of the chair. "Whatever Edgar did, it really messed with her."

Archie leaned forward. "Did you learn anything new?"

Jughead glanced up and shook his head.

Archie sighed and he and Veronica both sank back into their seats.

"She'll talk when she's ready. Sometimes it takes a while."

Jughead swung his head down the hall, toward the voice that had just piped up.

"What?" Kevin stared back at the three of them. "You guys aren't exactly being quiet."

"Nothing." Jughead crossed his arms. "I just didn't realize the counseling had already started."

Kevin shot him a worn-out look but before he could give any kind of comeback Agent Kane reappeared, this time with an unfamiliar woman.

"Everyone, this is Dr. Carraway." Kane pointed a hand at the therapist, who waved warmly at the teens. "She'll be the one facilitating all of your meetings today. She's one of the best counselors we partner with."

"Is that your way of saying we need all the help we can get?"

Jughead bit his tongue to stop from smirking, only partially upset that Cheryl had beat him to providing a quip back at Kane.

"No, Ms. Blossom, that was me saying that what all of you experienced last week - for the past few months for that matter - isn't normal and we want to make sure you have the resources you need to move on from it." Kane matter-of-factly placed his hands in his pockets, but there was a quietness in his eyes that Jughead hadn't seen from him before. "There's nothing wrong with needing a way to express what you've been feeling. And Dr. Carraway can provide just that – a listening ear."

With that, Agent Kane cleared his throat and began walking to the opposite end of the hall. "If anyone needs anything, I'll be in my office. Dr. Carraway will take over from here." Kane paused once again and looked back. "Oh, and play nice."

"Always," Jughead threw a side smirk up at Agent Kane.

This time, Kane gave him something that almost resembled a smile back. "Oh, I wasn't talking to you, Mr. Jones." His eyes flicked to Dr. Carraway as Jughead partially arched an eyebrow.

"Have fun," Kane quickly added, the faint curl at the edge of his mouth the closest thing to amusement Jughead had seen cross the man's face as he disappeared around the corner.

"So-,"

Everyone's heads swiveled in Dr. Carraway's direction as she spoke, her voice a swirl of maternal cadence and accustomed assertion.

"Who'd like to go first?"


"And here we are!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Betty could see a child-like smile growing across Charles' face, whose voice and stride had taken on a demeanor akin to that of a tour guide as the two of them stepped through a set of sliding doors into a light and spacious atrium.

He paused for a moment at the front desk to show his badge and then waved Betty through a metal detector and bag check.

"If you look down that hallway, that leads to some of our training facilities. Sounds cooler than it is; it's mostly a bunch of lecture halls and a gym." Charles started rattling off facts about the field office before Betty had even gotten her bags back. When she was deemed clear, Charles lobbed the duffle over his shoulder and the two of them headed towards a set of elevators along the far wall.

"We have forensic labs a few floors up. I don't get to spend a lot of time there, but I know that they're working on some pretty cutting edge CSI tech right now, although not quite as high-end as the field office in the city. Did you know that this branch in Albany actually outdates the one in New York City? They like to think they're better than us, but…"

As Charles continued prattling on about the bureau, Betty's eyes began to wander around the giant lobby. Sprawling floor-length windows dotted the front and back walls, allowing natural light to fill the large atrium. Through the back windows, she could see a large, expansive courtyard with trees and benches dotting crisscrossing pathways, including one central one that looked like it stretched straight to the other end of the building.

She twisted her head upward, catching the movement of men and women hustling around open walkways and staircases that zigzagged above them, creating a squarish spiral of upper floors reaching toward a central skylight. It was impressive, nothing like any office she'd seen in Riverdale: the building its own bustling city.

Betty turned her head back toward the lobby and couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement as she walked over the large plush FBI emblem hewn into the carpet.

The circumstances leading her there aside, it was pretty exhilarating to be smack in the middle of such a prestigious institution.

"And now you get to see a bit of the upstairs."

Charles' voice came back to her ears as they reached one of the elevators. "Nothing that exciting where we're heading, just offices and conference rooms. Unfortunately, all of the exciting areas are off-limits to non-employees."

"Like where you're keeping all the X-Files?" Betty smiled up at Charles as the doors closed and the elevator began to rise with a small shake.

Charles continued staring at the front of the elevator but his kiddish grin was back. "That's classified."

The elevator came to a stop, a ding sounding as the metal doors slid open. They stepped out into one of the open hallways that Betty had seen from below and joined the stream of people walking, with Charles briskly veering left. Betty peered over the railing as she walked, feeling another jolt of excitement as the entirety of the FBI emblem came into view under a stray sunbeam.

"Hey, keep up!" Charles waved at Betty from further down the hall. "You don't want to get lost in the shuffle."

Betty let her eyes linger for just a few more seconds before she turned to catch up to Charles.

xxx

After passing through a maze of corridors and conference rooms, Betty and Charles entered a bullpen-style office space. Peppered between some of the compact cubicles were poles sporting TV's mounted in a 360-degree fashion. Charles led Betty to one of the desks in the middle of the room and dropped the duffle bag on top of it.

"There's bathrooms, a kitchen, lounge, and very subpar coffee just around the corner. I'll have someone set up a sleeping arrangement for you down the hall here while you're in debrief. But for right now, your stuff is safe here at my desk."

Betty had been regarding the different stations playing on the various TV's but turned back to Charles. He patted the back of the chair he was leaning against, his eyes a bit clouded.

"It's not Quantico, but it's home."

His smile trembled as he slowly dropped his head. Betty's eyes drifted to where his were lingering; a glossy mahogany and gold nameplate mounted to the partition surrounding the desk.

With a start, Betty realized he wasn't making a joke.

This messy office space, with its scattered paperwork and coffee stains, with its bobbleheads and books taking the place of picture frames and postcards like other desks had, was his home.

A home he had made for himself because he had no idea that there had been a home waiting for him, searching for him out there.

Betty had tried so hard to be the one to find him and bring him home, but now here they were, him having been the one to help search for and bring her home instead.

It seemed the lost always have a way of finding each other after all.

But before she could say anything to him, a woman carrying a handful of files strolled into the room.

"Ah." Charles straightened up, his eyes clearing, and stepped forward to shake the woman's hand. "Betty, I'd like you to meet Agent Hailee Lance. She's the one I was telling you about, one of our best Victim Specialists."

"That's awfully generous of you, Charles, and wow, we really need to get that name changed," Agent Lance shook Charles' hand before turning and smiling warmly at Betty. "Hi Betty, it's nice to meet you. How was the drive up?"

"Scenic." Betty dropped her backpack onto the desk chair and returned Agent Lance's handshake. "It's nice to be out of the hospital."

"I bet." Agent Lance glanced at the bags on the desk as she tucked the files she was carrying under her arm. "Have you eaten yet? I don't want us to get started on an empty stomach."

"We stopped on the way here." Betty nodded. "I'm not particularly hungry now but Charles promised that I could get whatever I wanted for dinner after the sessions today, so I'm holding him to that."

"And you better." Lance smiled playfully at Charles. "There are some great local spots around here. Charles knows them all. He likes to try to get everyone to eat together when we're pulling late nights."

Charles turned his head and looked almost embarrassed. "Yeah, I eat out more than I care to admit. There's a bookstore not too far away, too. Maybe we can pick you up a new book on the way home." He flicked one of the bobbleheads on his desk before turning back to Betty.

"Are you an avid reader, Betty?" Agent Lance turned back to her as well.

Betty nodded.

"Avid writer, too. She's a journalist." Charles stepped forward, his head high.

"Oh, we'll definitely have to talk about that at some point. That's so interesting." Agent Lance beamed and glanced at Charles, who in turn checked his watch.

"Well, let's get started then, shall we?. It's only going to be Charles and me for a while, so we'll go at your pace. Just get to know each other for a bit, okay? Do you have any questions before we begin?"

Betty shook her head. "You don't have to go slow just for my sake. I'm used to both police interviews and therapy sessions, seeing as this feels like it's going to be a combination of the two. I can handle it."

Agent Lance paused and lifted her chin. Betty could also see Charles staring at her out of the corner of her eye with what looked to be thinly-veiled concern.

"I do not doubt that you can, Betty, but that's not why I said we could go at your pace." Agent Lance held the same hint of concern in her eyes that Charles did, but mixed with what appeared to be respect. "Your comfort, your choice got stolen from you. We just want to make sure you know that you have a choice in the matter now."

Betty paused and tentatively looked between Charles and Agent Lance. Charles gave her a reassuring nod, quietly seconding what Lance had just said. She felt her shoulder tighten up and turned her head down, a lump suddenly forming in her throat. "He stole so much from me."

She felt a hand gently land on her shoulder. She raised her head to see Agent Lance staring down at her with soft yet fierce eyes.

"And we're here to help you get everything he stole back."


Kevin sat with his back straight and hands folded neatly in his lap on the overly cushioned couch, watching as Dr. Carraway silently read through a document across from him.

He twiddled his thumbs, staring forward eagerly as Dr. Carraway flipped to a second page.

'So…" he began, not sure whether he was supposed to initiate the conversation or not. "The FBI really do have files on each of us."

Dr. Carraway's lip curled into an amused grin as she closed the file and lifted her head. "This is a report about the Farm case. I didn't have time before to read through it all."

"Ah, it's a thrilling read. Plot twists, character drama, and lots of things that don't sound real."

Dr. Carraway raised an eyebrow. "I've read enough to know that you were a part of The Farm while it was here in Riverdale. That you underwent a surgery with them." Kevin rubbed his neck and looked away. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind filling me in on some of those plot twists and things that don't sound real. You seemed pretty eager to go first." She closed the folder and slid it away.

"I…" he cleared his throat.

"Start wherever you feel necessary." Dr. Carraway said. "Whatever it is you want most to talk through."

"I… I was in a bad place at the start of this year," Kevin began. "I was hurting. I abandoned everyone, including my dad, for The Farm. I thought Edgar could help me."

"He promised you he could take away your pain. With the surgeries." Dr. Carraway nodded her head toward the file.

Kevin nodded solemnly back, one hand unconsciously moving to his side. "That was part of it, yes. But there was something else. You might have seen in that report that he claimed he could do something else to help. One of those plot twists I was telling you about."

He peered at Dr. Carraway. If her soft nod hadn't been enough for him to understand that she knew what he was talking about, her next question solidified that she did. "Who did he let you talk to?"

Kevin breathed in a deep breath. "My ex. Joaquin."

He shook his head. "You probably think this is all crazy. How any of us believed this could possibly be real."

"No I don't," Dr. Carraway breathed encouragingly. "Pain, trauma, grief… people go to all kinds of lengths to have it make sense. To make it stop. And unfortunately some people understand that and capitalize off of it."

"I thought I was finally getting closure for all of it. But I was actually just closing off. The worst part of it though is that I stuck by Edgar and The Farm even after Betty exposed him. Even after I knew it was all just drugs and mind tricks. Even after they ended up abandoning me." He shifted his feet and pulled a pillow into his lap.

"How did that make you feel?" Dr. Carraway handed Kevin a pack of tissues, only realizing then that he had begun to cry.

"Terrible. I didn't talk to anybody. I didn't even tell my dad what had happened. Not until recently. Betty tried to talk to me. Despite everything I did, she still tried to help. And the hardest part about everything that's happened since is-," his voice started to quiver.

He grabbed a tissue, trying to swallow down the crushing feeling that had started in his chest.

"When Betty went missing, I… oh god, I made fun of it – of her - in the beginning." The tears were flowing now. "I literally mocked the fact that one of my best friends got kidnapped because I was still mad at her. But once the news broke that it was Edgar, I realized something: I was mad at myself."

He sucked in a deep breath and continued. "You see, right before The Farm left, Betty tried to get me out of there. And I was upset! I thought she was trying to take away the happiness I believed I had found." He shook his head, a dark frown materializing across his face.

Kevin buried his face in his hands, feeling the hot tears streaming through his fingers. "And I've been mad at her ever since. But once I finally, finally, saw the truth, I knew this time I had to help save her. So I went to Canada with everyone else, though I didn't see what happened in the clearing."

"What did you see?" Dr. Carraway asked. "Obviously something rattled you."

Kevin stared at the floor. "I-, I saw myself."

Dr. Carraway cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"Cheryl and I split up from everyone else. We were using ourselves as bait to lead two of Edgar's followers away and we ended up at this ranger outpost. One of the guys told me that Betty had made it there, that she had almost escaped."

Kevin rubbed his hands through his hair but lifted his head to stare at Dr. Carraway.

"He pointed out scratch marks on the floor. From Betty. From one of those guys knocking her down and handing her back to Edgar as she tried to get away."

Kevin grabbed another tissue.

"And I was suddenly staring at myself. At what I had done."

"How so?"

Kevin grew solemn, his head swinging toward the faint light streaming through the window. "You see, when Betty tried to get me out of the Farm, just before they left Riverdale, I attacked her. I knocked her down. She clawed at the floor. And I handed her over to Edgar."

He lifted his head and stared directly at Dr. Carraway, his eyes red.

"I was staring at myself out in those woods. I'm no better than one of Edgar's thugs."

Dr. Carraway was quiet. Kevin couldn't read her face. Then she said one thing:

"Kevin, take a deep breath."

He did.

"Good. Now, thank you for having the strength to open up about that. I want you to take a minute to think about this - what story have you been telling yourself about your part in everything?"

Kevin wiped his face and sniffled. "What?"

"You were using story terms earlier, so let's think of it that way. How do you see yourself in this story of The Farm and Betty's abduction?"

Kevin scrunched up his forehead, growing silent for a few moments. "As a bad guy."

Dr. Carraway bobbed her head again and pursed her lips. "Even after you helped your friends and helped Betty, who you initially hurt?"

"I started this whole chain of events! If I hadn't been so blind and attacked Betty that night, we probably all would have gotten out of there. Edgar would have actually been exposed and he wouldn't have been able to flee and hide, and then he never would have been able to kidnap Betty."

"That's a rather large assumption."

"Yeah, but it makes sense!" Kevin's voice was rising.

"To you, perhaps. You have no idea if that's what would have happened. You can't play the 'what if' game with yourself. There's too much we can't control about life."

"That's-," Kevin opened his mouth, but paused. Then his shoulders relaxed. "That's exactly what my dad told me."

Dr. Carraway smiled. "Wise man."

Kevin sank back into the couch and rubbed his neck. "Yeah, he is. And he's been so patient through this whole year. He forgave me for everything. So did Betty."

Dr. Carraway folded her hands over her knee, her lips pursing again. "So you've received the forgiveness you've been looking for?"

Kevin lowered his eyes. "That's the thing; I haven't."

"No?" Dr. Carraway's question was gentle.

He glanced at her and squeezed the pillow he was holding before answering quietly:

"I don't know how to forgive myself."

"Ah." Dr. Carraway leaned back in her chair. "Let me ask a follow-up question to that: even though you've been given it, do you think you deserve forgiveness?"

Kevin blinked back at her. "Uh," he stammered. "No. I don't."

"Mhmm, that's your real problem." Dr. Carraway nodded to herself. "It's not that you don't know how to forgive yourself, it's that you won't let yourself because you still see yourself as a bad guy. You have to change the narrative you're telling yourself before you can truly move on from this."

"And how do I do that?"

"That's for you to figure out, not for me to tell you."

"Isn't the point of therapy to get answers to my problems?"

Dr. Carraway must have found that humorous, as she let out a small chuckle. "Getting to the actual issue is an answer in itself. Remember, healing is work, Kevin. There's no magic solution to the pain."

"Yeah, I know that," he muttered quietly. "Now."

"I'm going to give you a bit of homework to help you figure it out though, okay?"

"Aw man, on a Saturday?"

Dr. Carraway continued to smirk. "Take some time to study some of your favorite stories. Could be a book, a movie, perhaps even a musical." Kevin perked up a bit. "I want you to keep an eye out for redemption arcs."

"You're not going to make me write a book report, are you?"

"No, but I want you to take note as to how characters learn to forgive themselves. Art is a very useful tool for healing, even works of fiction."

"Okay. This homework doesn't sound too bad." Kevin pushed the pillow aside and straightened up. "Just nothing with too magical of a solution, right?"

Dr. Carraway smiled. "Exactly."


"Do you think we should get an upgrade or just get her the model she had?"

"I don't know."

"And what data plan should I get? Which one did I have before?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what plan do you have?"

"I don't know."

FP rubbed his temple and reached a hand out to Alice, stopping her from picking up yet another phone model to meticulously examine before inevitably putting it back just to do the same with the next.

"Alice, it's a phone. I think she'll be okay with whatever you pick. And if not, we can always come back to the store."

This was the third stop of the day so far on what felt like the Alice Cooper Comeback Tour and FP knew there were still more items that had yet to be crossed off her list.

First, they had stopped by the bank, then by RIVW so Alice could ask for her job back. Though how much 'asking' Alice did, FP couldn't say. He figured some people in Riverdale were afraid to tell Alice Cooper the word 'no.'

And now they were shopping for new phones since both Alice and Betty's had become collateral damage during this whole ordeal.

"Oh, but what if she needs familiarity? Too many changes might be too much for her right now."

"Okay, well how about this; we get her an upgraded model but the same case," FP said, pulling a baby blue phone case from the display on the wall. "She'd probably like that."

Alice had become more wound up as the day had gone on and anything that related to Betty coming home kept sending her into an anxious spiral of questions and second-guesses, which was a side of Alice he hadn't seen much of before.

Which made FP glad that he had decided to tag along after all.

Alice looked at the case FP was holding and took it, her shoulders relaxing. "Okay, yeah. And I'm sure someone here knows what plan I had." She strode over to the counter and rang the bell.

Which finally gave FP a moment to sit. He collapsed into one of the chairs at the front of the store and let out a long sigh.

As much as he had wanted to just stay home, spending time with Alice was turning out to be a welcome distraction.

His phone buzzed and he groaned, fishing his hand into his pocket, briefly glancing at the lit-up screen.

"Charles?" He straightened up, shooting a nervous glance in Alice's direction, and lowered his voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, FP. We're making some good progress but she needed to take a break."

"Did you learn anything new?" FP leaned forward.

There was silence on the line.

"Charles?"

The silence continued for a few more moments, then FP heard a low sigh.

"Sort of."

There was an ache in those words that made FP's stomach drop. He glanced back toward Alice, watching her converse with the associate behind the counter, suddenly thankful that she didn't have a working phone.

"Which is why I'm calling, FP. I need you to sign off on something for me."

"Oh, uh," FP started, realizing Charles didn't know what had happened at the station that morning, "I'm not-,"

"I'd like to get permission to bring Betty's counselor into the debriefing. I think it would really help her."

"Oh." FP sank back in the chair, running a hand through his hair. "Yes. Absolutely."

That he could do.

"Excellent." Charles' voice was a bit shaky. "She's trying really hard to be brave about everything."

"You sound like you are too," FP remarked. This is the most nervous he had ever heard Charles. He had come to be a bit jealous as to how composed the guy could be. "Are you doing okay?"

"I've sat through dozens of these interviews before, FP, I've heard lots of awful stories. I'm trained to not take them personally but… I've never had a family member be the one the stories happened to."

"Geez, yeah." FP massaged his temple. "It's tough, Charles. I have more experience with that than I'd like, and I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't stop a little every time Jughead gets involved in something."

"So how do you deal with it? How do you… feel better about it?"

FP leaned forward, a low sigh escaping his lips. "You never really feel better about it, but to deal with it you have to make room for it. You can't push the emotions away or drown them out, if you catch my drift."

He could hear Charles take a deep breath. "Do you still get tempted to pick up the bottle? With everything you've dealt with?"

"Every damn day," FP huffed. "But being there for my kids, being there for the ones I care about-," he bobbed his head, his eyes going toward the counter again, "-that's stronger than my want for a drink." He paused before asking in a softer tone: "Are you feeling tempted?"

"I don't know. I haven't felt this unnerved in a long time. Not even when Betty was actually missing. But hearing everything she went through… FP, I've never felt like this before."

"Well, that might be because-," FP hesitated, running a hand over the back of his neck, "-because you didn't know your family before. You never had that personal connection."

The line was silent again.

"Charles?"

"I don't know how to be there for her. I just started being her brother."

FP ran a thumb over his eyebrow. "There's no training wheels when it comes to family, kid. Believe me," he said through a long exhale. "But you've been doing just fine with Jughead. Just be there for her in a way you know how. And don't forget to take care of yourself too."

"I'll try."

"Good." FP heard footsteps and looked up. Alice was making her way towards him, bag in hand. "Hey, I've got to get going. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, FP."

FP hung up and stood, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

"Who was that?" Alice asked as she reached FP.

"Uh," FP faltered as he looked at Alice. She was a lot calmer than before, a tenacious glow back in her eyes. "It was just work. Nothing to worry about. Get everything okay?"

No need to add to her worries about her children right now. He wasn't the only one that needed this time as a distraction.

"I did." Alice beamed as FP opened the door.

"Good." FP followed her out of the store and into the parking lot. "So what's next on the list?"


Jughead lifted his head as the door at the end of the hall opened. Kevin emerged, his face a bit red, and headed back toward his seat.

Veronica turned to Archie and Jughead as Kevin passed by, placing a hand on top of Archie's. "Well boys, I'm going to go get this over with. Stay out of trouble."

Archie watched as she walked into Dr. Carraway's office and closed the door before turning to Kevin.

"Was she tough?"

Kevin shook his head. "Not really, but she does give homework."

"Ugh." Archie leaned his head back against the wall. "But Saturday!"

"Come on, Archie, it's not like we actually have to do it," Jughead scoffed.

"I don't know," Kevin continued. "You might change your mind once you talk to her."

"We'll see," Jughead said flippantly, glancing down at his phone. He let out a small grumble.

"What? Something bad?" Archie popped an eye open and shifted forward.

"No, it's nothing." Jughead tossed his phone back into his lap. "Like literally nothing."

"Oh. Were you expecting a message?" Archie yawned and fully sat up.

"Well… no." Jughead tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. "I thought Charles might send me updates or something."

Archie crinkled his brow. "Jug, it's only been a few hours."

"I know, but I just want to make sure-,"

"-she's okay." Archie finished Jughead's sentence, his tone delivering not a questioning guess but instead a resolute statement. "I mean, I know she's not 'okay' okay, but she's not in danger anymore."

Jughead crossed his arms. "I'm her boyfriend, I'm allowed to worry."

"And I'm her best friend." Archie leaned forward, staring insistently back at Jughead. "And I'm just as curious as you are, but I'm just happy that she gets the chance to even go to debriefing."

"Listen to your friend, Jones." Agent Kane's voice boomed as he rounded the corner. "I've been doing this long enough to know that he's right."

"Well, that's a first," Jughead smirked at Archie, who in turn threw a wadded up piece of paper at him. Jughead threw it back but turned toward Kane. "Which begs the question though; you're the Supervisory Special Agent, why did you stay here instead of going to the field office?"

"You answered your own question, Jones. With superiority comes the ability to pick and choose what parts of the investigation I oversee. It made more sense for Agent Smith to accompany Ms. Cooper to the field office and for me to stay here."

"So you voluntarily chose to babysit?" Jughead sank back into his chair, steepling his fingers and narrowing his eyes. "Interesting."

"Not babysit, Jones. Supervise." Agent Kane said matter-of-factly.

"Was that a joke?" A smile spread across Jughead's face.

Agent Kane stood staring at Jughead, his hands folded behind his back.

"Because of your title?"

Kane blinked down at Jughead.

"You know, Supervisory Special Agent."

Agent Kane arched a brow. "Are you finished?"

Jughead laced his hands, settling back into his chair. "Yes."

Kane smoothed out his tie. "I wish you would take this more seriously, Mr. Jones." He looked around the hall. "That goes for all of you. We're trying to help."

Agent Kane stuck his hands in his pockets and continued down the hall.

Jughead watched as he disappeared around the corner. "Man, I really want to know who shoved a stick up his-,"

"Jug." Archie lifted his head again.

"What? I'm convinced he stayed behind just to annoy me."

"Sure. Or he's just doing his job." Archie closed his eyes again, nestling into the chair. "Now wake me up when it's my turn."


Veronica shut the door to the office and turned, surveying the small room. It was woefully unadorned, not the least bit inviting. As far as pop-up psychiatric offices went, it was underwhelming.

Dr. Carraway looked up from writing in her notes and smiled. Veronica stepped closer to her desk and reached out a hand. "Veronica Lodge. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Dr. Carraway returned the handshake, then waved her hand toward the couch. "Hi Veronica, go ahead and take a seat. There's water and snacks on the table next to it if you'd like. But please, this isn't a business meeting. Make yourself at home."

"Sorry." Veronica smoothed her skirt and lowered herself onto the couch. "Habit."

"Do you tend to see a lot of conversations as business transactions?" Dr. Carraway asked, thumbing through her files.

"Just the ones that need to be." Veronica crossed her legs, lacing her hands over a knee.

She thought she saw Dr. Carraway smirk as she flipped open a document, but wasn't entirely sure.

"Have you ever been to counseling before, Veronica?" Dr. Carraway asked without looking up from the papers.

"Once. After my father went to prison."

"The first or the second time?" Dr. Carraway lifted her head.

Veronica glowered slightly. "The first. There was no love lost the second time."

"Even so, the absence of a parent can cause significant change in a child's life." Dr. Carraway tucked the papers back inside the folder and placed it on the desk next to her.

"Yes. Welcomed change." Veronica leaned back with a content arm cross. "He belongs there."

"And your mother?"

Veronica looked away, deflating slightly. "That was an unfortunate parting gift from my father."

"Sounds like you have a bit of a turbulent family dynamic."

"Perhaps," Veronica swept a strand of hair behind her ear. "But that's not why we're here today."

Dr. Carraway grinned. "No. I guess it's not." She settled back into her chair and cleared her throat. "You and your friends have had an extremely challenging year and this past month was no exception.

"It certainly was not."

"How are you feeling after everything? I read that you were one of the ones that found out Betty was missing as well as being there when she was found."

"It's been a lot to try to process but I'm handling it." Veronica dropped her arms, folding her hands once again in her lap. "It was hard not knowing what was going on, there was… a lot to leave to the imagination. Especially in the beginning." She shook her head. "But luckily I'm good at compartmentalizing and I talked through the hard parts with my friends when it was necessary. Now that Betty's back and safe, I'm trying to move on from the whole situation like Agent Kane said. Leave it to the past."

Veronica looked forward, smiling resolutely at the counselor across from her.

Dr. Carraway tipped her head. "Well, I'm impressed."

"Thank you." Veronica beamed.

"That was a remarkable amount of buzzwords you just strung together." Dr. Carraway smiled. "That at least tells me you listened the first time you were in counseling."

Veronica pursed her lips, looking off to the side before staring back at Dr. Carraway.

"Veronica," Dr. Carraway went on, tenderness overlapping the disappointment in her voice. "I told you this isn't a business meeting. You can't negotiate your way out of your thoughts or grief. There's nothing short and sweet about dealing with the things you've been through."

Veronica remained silent, toying with her bracelet as she stared down into her lap.

Dr. Carraway leaned forward, "I get the sense that you like being in control. Not just that, but you're used to it. Now, it's completely natural to want control over things in life, it's almost an instinctual reaction when things around you feel like chaos. Like right now, you don't want to give up control of this conversation."

"That's not true!" Veronica shot back, reaching for one of the water bottles lined up on the end table.

"No?" One of Dr. Carraway's eyebrows arched.

Veronica wrapped her hands around the cold bottle, the icy droplets under her palm sending a small chill running up her arms.

Dr. Carraway's eyes relaxed and she slid her chair out from behind the desk. "A lot of change in a short amount of time can create a desire for control over just about every aspect of our lives. Your father going to jail, a move to a new town – those two things alone would be enough for someone your age to fight back against instability. Throw in everything else you've had to overcome since then and it's no wonder you feel a need to stay in control of even small details of your life. But that desire can manifest itself into unhealthy coping mechanisms."

Veronica listened quietly, each breath getting deeper with each new sentence, the chill receding back down her arms.

"You feel as though you find your strength and your courage in the control. Am I correct in that?"

"My father always taught me that to get your way you needed to stay in control. You needed to exude an air of confidence and the room was automatically yours." Veronica squeezed the water bottle and slowly brought her head up.

Dr. Carraway nodded, a look of understanding in her eyes. "But there's also strength and courage in vulnerability."

Veronica swallowed, and when she spoke her voice was softer. "And that's what my mother always taught me. I don't have to be strong for everyone else."

Dr. Carraway nodded again, her curls bouncing along with her head. "And the room is just as much yours when you are vulnerable. Veronica, it's okay to let go of whatever you've been holding on to."

"No," Veronica suddenly found herself hiccupping through an unexpected sob. "No, I can't."

Dr. Carraway reached behind her and handed the box of tissues to Veronica. "Why not?"

"Because it's shameful."

Dr. Carraway frowned. "It's completely normal to feel ashamed of things you're feeling, or have seen-,"

"No, you don't understand!" Veronica erupted at Dr. Carraway. "I'm angry at them."

"At who, dear?"

"The ones that don't deserve it! " Veronica shook her head, a frustrated scoff escaping her lips. "At my mom, my boyfriend… at Betty."

She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. "They left me. They all left me. But how can I sit here and be angry at them for leaving when it wasn't their fault?" She unscrewed the cap to the water bottle and took a shaky drink. "I mean, Archie was in an impossible situation when he went to jail and Betty…," Veronica shook her head again. "Why am I so angry at them?"

Dr. Carraway remained quiet for a moment. "Anger is a completely expected aspect of the grieving process."

"None of them died," Veronica chafed as she wiped her eyes.

"And grief isn't only reserved for death. It comes with any kind of loss," Dr. Carraway gently replied. "You lost both of your parents and your boyfriend to jail, and you're best friend was quite literally lost." Dr. Carraway tapped her fingers together and gave Veronica an inquisitive look. "Were you angry at your father the first time he went to jail?"

"Of course." Veronica crossed her arms again. "I found out that he had been lying to us - to me - for years about what he actually did. And then I have to leave New York, the only life I had ever known, and move because of him? And he gets to walks free after only a few months only to then manipulate pretty much everyone I love?" She scoffed. "Like I said, he belongs in jail."

"Mm. And was that the first time you remember things going wrong in your life? As in, with repercussions you could see and feel?"

Veronica scrunched her forehead. "Well, honestly, yeah. By all accounts to younger me, I had a great life before that."

"Okay. This is what I'm hearing-," Dr. Carraway leaned forward, "you may be associating that initial traumatic response, that anger from when your father was arrested with other traumatic events, like your mother and boyfriend getting arrested, or now for example, with Betty's abduction. Someone else's choices caused a dramatic upheaval in your life and now you associate people leaving, whether voluntarily or not, with that initial event."

"I mean, it was Archie's choice to plead guilty, even though he was innocent. But it's not like it was Betty's choice to get kidnapped!"

"No, it wasn't. It was Edgar's. But because it happened so suddenly and without warning, your mind tried to make sense of it by trying to fit it into a pattern. And that pattern happens to be that someone leaves and that causes upheaval and chaos. Your brain is putting those emotions on Betty because she was the one that left. Subconsciously it can't tell the difference that it wasn't her choice or fault, even if consciously you can."

Veronica remained pushed up against the plush couch, silently staring past Dr. Carraway. She took another sip of water before screwing the cap back on, running a nail over the plastic ridges.

"So I'm not an awful friend for feeling that?"

"From what I heard you threw a rally that raised money and awareness that ended up being crucial in turning the tide of the investigation. And you crossed international borders to save your friend, even at the risk of your own life. So, no, Veronica-," Dr. Carraway gave her a sympathetic smile. "I don't think you're a bad friend. I think you're a teenage girl trying her best to cope in an unimaginable situation."

A tear trickled down Veronica's cheek as she nodded and she quickly wiped it away. "I've been holding onto that thought for so long."

Dr. Carraway grinned. "I think it's time you finally let it go."


"Come on," Betty murmured to herself, trying to twist open the pill bottle. She was sitting on a couch in one of the open sitting areas out near the elevators, the bottle wedged between her legs as she tried to pry it open with one hand.

Her side had begun to burn towards the end of the last meeting and the sensation was spreading its way across her back, so when Agent Lance had ended the session early she had been nothing short of relieved.

"Need some help?"

Charles stood in front of her, reaching out a hand as he tucked his phone into his pocket.

Betty huffed and handed the pill bottle to Charles. He grabbed it and twisted, the lid popping right off. He squinted, reading the instructions closely, and then shook out two of the small pills and handed them to Betty.

"Thanks." Betty sat back, popping the pills into her mouth. Charles filled up a small cup from the water cooler nearby and passed it to her.

"No problem." Charles leaned up against the wall next to the couch.

Betty swallowed and shifted, trying to find the least painful position, her hand resting gently on top of the wound. She looked out over the balcony, watching the sun stream through the towering windows, it's hazy beams flickering as people passed through them down below.

She gave a gentle sigh and noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, finding Charles had inched a bit closer.

"Did you and Jughead exchange notes on how to worry about me, or-?"

"No." Charles swung away from the wall, the edge of his mouth curling ever so slightly. "I just understand now why he acted the way he did this morning."

"Ah." Betty looked at the floor.

The first few sessions hadn't actually been that bad. Agent Lance had kept her word and the day had begun with just friendly banter about books and journalism. But then Betty had found that in talking about those things it naturally had led into talking about all the time spent alone in the cabin and how much she missed those things.

Then Agent Lance had gone on to ask about the cabin and what being there had been like. That was easy enough to talk about; trapped with nothing to do except sit and think night after night. That had unsurprisingly led into the story of the time she escaped and made it to the outpost (which Charles and Agent Lance had been both impressed and troubled by) and Charles had asked if that's how she learned she was in Canada.

She had said yes and that prompted Charles to explain that he had asked because she had left that as part of her message on the found FBI badge (which he mentioned had been a brilliant idea and she would not be charged for damaging the badge.)

She appreciated his attempts to bring levity to the situation.

And while the debrief was supposed to be about getting new information from Betty, she was also getting new information herself in finding out how things had played out on everybody else's end in Riverdale.

Like how Chic escaped from prison the same night she had been taken and had been conscripted by Penelope and Edgar to send everyone on a deceptive scavenger hunt. And how effectively it had worked. And she had finally learned that the loose end Penelope had talked about so long ago was Chic.

That's when her side had begun to throb.

And once Charles had brought up the message on the badge and how FP had found it in Pickens Park, he had asked how and why it - along with her and Edgar's blood - had ended up on the scene there.

And that's when Agent Lance had suggested they take a break.

"Hey, it's okay." Charles raised a reassuring hand. "We don't need to talk about it, lord knows you've still got enough people to do that with today." He sat down on the couch next to Betty. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"And I appreciate that." Betty looked back up at him, a faint smile on her lips. She turned her head back toward the people hustling around the balcony and distant halls.

Charles nodded and turned his head in the same direction. Rocking back on the couch, he folded his hands in his lap. He looked a bit tense, his shoulders remaining rigid even as he sank back against the couch, but he didn't say anything further.

The two sat quietly beside each other for a few minutes. The faint ringing of telephones drifted up from the lobby, mixing with the soft whir of a coffee maker somewhere nearby. The sun was high in the sky now, its light bouncing off of the glass staircase across the way.

She felt calmer out here, just sitting among the halls filled with chatter and shuffle. There was something stimulating about the everyday monotony filling the building like a friendly hum. It felt like, after so much quiet, this was a gentle reminder that life no longer had to stand still.

"Strangely comforting, isn't it?" Charles piped up, echoing Betty's thoughts about the bustling atrium. She glanced at him.

"Hey," he sighed, rubbing his hands on his legs. "Sorry if I've been a bit overbearing or upset you with any of my questions. I'm not used to having any kind of personal connection to one of my cases, much less having one that involves my baby sister." He smiled, turning back toward her.

"And that's the only time you get to call me that," Betty smirked, adjusting her position on the couch. Though her smile quickly faded and she turned her head to the floor again. In a smaller voice, she said, "Sorry about Chic."

"It's not your fault." Charles looked at her, shaking his head incessantly. "He chose his company."

"Perhaps," Betty muttered quietly, her mind flashing through the chain of events that put Chic in that spot.

She shook her head and looked up to find Charles staring at her, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping together.

Betty crinkled her brow. "What?"

Charles let out a short sigh and leaned forward. "I may not have been around the last few years and seen everything that has happened, but I have gotten to see the type of person that you are."

"I've been on The Farm case for a long time. I've been studying Edgar and his methods for longer than I'd like," Charles continued. "And I've seen the way you react toward certain things now, like how you freeze at questions about him taking you back to Riverdale or how you can't look your friends in the eye. So I may not know what he did to you, but I can see it. And I want you to know, Betty, things aren't your fault."

Betty straightened herself up, her mouth slightly open.

Charles pointed at himself. "Trained detective." He smiled and laced his fingers together. "He likes turning people against each other, cutting people off from their families. And I'm guessing once you nearly exposed him, he changed his M.O. specifically to get you to turn on yourself."

Betty stared at him for a moment and sighed. "He-, uh, he opened a lot of wounds." She winced, her side throbbing again. "Some of them rather violently."

Charles' nod was sad. "It's hard to talk about, isn't it?"

Betty nodded.

Charles sucked in a deep breath. "I just want to remind you that that war going on inside your head-," he looked down at her sincerely, "-you don't have to fight it alone. You're not alone anymore."

Betty's mouth turned up slightly as she tried to hide the tremble in her smile. She sat quietly for a moment staring forward before turning back to Charles. "Anyone ever tell you you're really good at these talks?"

"Ah," he shrugged, smiling out of the side of his mouth and stretching. "It's what I know. Had to give myself a few back in the day."

"Yeah." Betty smiled. "Me too. Hey-," she turned to look at him. "You know you're not alone anymore either. You've got a family now. And a home beyond this office." She gestured back in the direction of his desk.

Now it was Charles' turn to gape at her.

Betty pointed at herself. "Detective in training." She smiled. "I noticed how happy you were showing me around but I also noticed how empty your desk was compared to all the others." Charles turned his head down. "And I know how much you hate eating by yourself."

Charles' face grew the slightest shade of red and he remained silent for a moment. "You know I'm also not used to the people in my cases having to comfort me."

"Well, like you said," Betty gently bumped him on the shoulder, "those cases usually don't involve your baby sister."

Charles chuckled slightly as he nodded. Betty turned to look down at her side and attempted to move again. She found thankfully that the wound didn't pulse at the shift. She tentatively lifted her hand away from her side, finding that the burning sensation had subsided.

"Pills finally doing their job?"

"Yeah," Betty said. "It doesn't feel so bad anymore."

"Good." Charles relaxed. "And the rest of you?"

"Starting to feel better too," Betty answered as she stuffed the pill bottle back into her backpack.

"Good." He pointed at the bottle as she put it away. "And you know I don't have to tell you to be careful with that stuff."

"I know," Betty said reassuringly.

Charles nodded and there was a knock on the wall next to them.

"Sorry to interrupt you two." Agent Lance approached the couch carrying a coffee and stack of papers. "RCMP just got here and I don't want to keep them waiting." She turned toward Betty. "I promise only a few more sessions for the day and then you'll get a real break for the rest of the evening."

Betty gave Agent Lance a small smile and Charles rose off the couch. "Oh, good," he said, smoothing out his suit jacket. "It's always fun to meet with the Canadian us."

He looked down at Betty. "You probably won't have to answer much for them, we'll do most of the talking. Lots of procedural jargon and required international bureaucracy." He waved his hands. "But they'll want an account of what happened in the woods since that was on their soil. Especially anything you can tell them about those thugs that impersonated park rangers."

Charles reached down a hand. "You ready?"

Betty took a deep breath and grabbed it, pulling herself up. "Yeah. I am now."


A/N:

Alright, like I said, this is a two-parter, but I haven't finished the second half yet. So when I do eventually finish it and post, it would probably be good to read both together because they flow together.

Thanks everyone!

As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think, what you liked, what you noticed... you get the gist! I love the feedback!