Hello everyone! I've been wanting to practice my writing for a while and this story has been floating around in my head since Season 3 ended. I'm not really banking on Season 4 to deliver satisfying endings to certain plotlines and I also have really missed deep character/emotional moments. So I decided to take to the internet and write it out. The logical decision. I feel like the writers start/touch on things that could be really interesting and provide some really good character moments, but they decide to trade good storytelling in for absurd plot points. So I decided to run with a few things that felt like missed opportunities or more nuanced storylines that I just have a feeling we won't see.

So here's my take on a Season 4 that tries to wrap things up, exploring the emotional trauma and depth of these characters, while also bringing things back to the basics. Like high schoolers being high schoolers even while there's a personal mystery afoot. I don't want to explain too much or I'll ruin my own twists, but I tried to get back to Season 1 tone/feel while still taking the characters in new directions.

Review if you would like! I'd love feedback.

All events from the show (until 3x22, no on-air Season 4 (I have no idea what's going to happen to begin with, but I also don't want the story to muddle. This is it's own thing)) are canon, are a part of this story. It takes place after the finale of Season 3. My take on a possible storyline in Season 4. I am writing like you would be watching an episode. I will cut between different character POV's and scenes, some rapid intercutting in the next few chapters. I will also use Jughead's writing as narration a lot, just like the show. I've written for film before, but I wanted to make this novelistic writing that feels like you could be watching an episode of TV.

I'll update as soon as I can, but I do have a full-time job and other side projects, but I will try to stay consistent!


Chapter 1: Requiem For a Dream

Riverdale - once the town with pep - had undergone many nicknames and monikers since Jason Blossom's murder. Murdertown. The town with death. The outside world didn't know what to think of us anymore. The Black Hood. The Red Daliah. Gargoyle king. Druglords playing the town like a fiddle. Riverdale had been through so much – changed - since the sleepy town had awoken to a missing and murdered teen.

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Jughead Jones lifted his swift fingers from the keyboard just long enough to take a large gulp of coffee. He looked over his most recent paragraph, mouthing the words as he went, checking for typos. He looked over the top of his laptop towards the small collection of customers spread around the booths at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. The time was around 9:30 pm, yet the sun still clung to life in the dying summer's evening. Thin tendrils of light danced through the wide glass windows of the diner, bending and twisting in the thick haze of the diner. For it being a nice summer night, the diner felt lazy and dreamy, a distant echo of what the town used to be, and what Jughead hoped it would soon again become.

A town is nothing if not its residents. They are the soul, the beating heart of Riverdale. Just as Riverdale lay host to seemingly barrage after barrage, twisting and turning under narratives pulled straight from Shakespearian lore, so did the hearts and minds of its' young inhabitants. The young - the once innocent - just couldn't seem to catch a break. But recently, all had been quiet. Was it a calm before the storm for the small town of Riverdale, or was the dust finally starting to settle? The answer may lie with four teenagers caught in the tumultuous crossfires that had afflicted the town.

First, there was me. Once a loner, I was a pauper turned king. A Southsider once finding homes out of movie theaters and school closets was now residing in a white brick kingdom on Elm Street with his queen. Love had slithered into my nihilistic, weirdo heart and repaired it. Repaired my family. Still a broken family, but it was on the mend. A father, daughter, and son under one roof, with a mother who promised to do better. The father no longer working odd job after odd job, but rather living his own version of the American Dream - providing for his family and the sheriff of a town that once shunned and ostracized him. If an outlaw could become the law, was hope actually beginning to stir for Riverdale?

Jughead looked up from his open Word document and out the window next to his booth. The sun had all but disappeared behind the towering mountains surrounding the outskirts of town. Night had fallen and he was one of the only customers left at Pop's. This was not uncommon; Jughead had spent many nights alone at Pop's, typing away for his novel, or cramming in an extra article for the Blue & Gold. Lately, though, he always seemed to have company with him – sharing a burger and milkshakes with Betty, laughing at the most recent anecdote from Archie, or enjoying quality time with Betty, Archie, and Veronica.

But tonight he had opted to sit and write alone. He needed his space every now and then to think, to work on something original. Something personal. He felt as though he had become the chronicler for Riverdale's bizarre happenings ever since he began his novel of Jason Blossom's murder. Tonight though, his reflections weren't focused on the macabre. While yes, the occasional mention would appear, tonight his writings were to be something more… wistful.

He looked down at his open computer, the spill from the bright screen illuminating his face. He tugged at his beanie and smiled.

Bringg. Ring. The phone on the wall let off a few rings before FP came jogging down the stairs. Jughead and JB were sitting at the kitchen counter pouring themselves too big of bowls of cereal.

"Hello?" he answered. Jughead turned to look at his dad. The older man's face had softened, a hint of anger in his eyes, but his mouth opened ever so slightly. "Yeah. Yeah. They're here." He stole a quick glance over his shoulder to the two children. Jellybean was diving her spoon into the colorful sea of Fruit Loops. Jughead continued staring at his dad, concern crossing his face.

"Are you..are you alright?" He asked, making his voice smaller as he turned back towards the wall. A pause. A small laugh escaped FP's lips, the trickle of a smile forming. Then, as quickly as the smile appeared, it faded. "No. Not yet. I have to be sure. You have to be sure!" Jughead studied the back of his dad's head. "We'll talk about it. But later," the man sighed. "I have to get to work."

FP hung up the phone and turned towards the kitchen. He feigned a small smile, something else still glittering in his eyes.

"Who was that?" Jughead asked, keeping his eyes locked on FP's.

"It…," he paused, looking from Jughead to Jellybean, who was now looking up at him, milk dribbling from her spoon. "It was your mother."

"Mom!?" JB said excitedly. She had dropped her spoon on the table with a clang. She must have realized how excited she looked, as she cleared her throat and slightly slumped over again, as she had been sitting before. "I mean, how is she?"

Jughead leaned forward. He wanted to know just as much as JB. He had been the one who originally wanted to drive her out of town when he realized she was in the drug business, but after the night of their "family quest," he didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, to try – to try with them. But she had decided that the family was not safe with her around. She wanted to fix things alone. Jughead had wondered when they would hear from her again. Almost the whole summer had passed and nothing until today.

FP fiddled with his belt, something he did when he was nervous or short on an answer. "She's good, I think." Jughead locked eyes with his father, and what he originally perceived as annoyance was now replaced by something else. "I think she's doing good. So does she."

"Is she coming back?" Jellybean asked.

"I don't know, JB. I don't know yet." He walked over to the living room table and picked up his hat. "Come on you two, I better get you to school."


"I think she wants to come back." Jughead was sitting on the couch in the Riverdale High School student lounge, an arm around his girlfriend. Archie and Veronica sat across from them, gingerly holding hands. They seemed to be a little unsure as to where they still stood with each other, but nonetheless, the two enjoyed physical touch a little too much.

"And, is this good, Jug? I mean, would you want her to?" Betty Cooper asked, looking Jughead in the eyes. Her eyes were always shining, her pupils flitting back and forth, searching his face for the answer before he could say it.

"We haven't heard from her the entire summer. I think for her, that's a good sign. The Jones's love going off the map for a while to think. Sometimes to wallow." He gave Betty a small smirk. She knew. "I tried driving her away but I realized I wanted her to stay. She's my mom. I think she might really be trying this time, after seeing what her actions did to Jellybean and me. She realized how much she hurt the family this time. I think it would be nice to have a second - or rather - third chance this time."

Betty smiled at him. "If it's what you want, Jug, then I will welcome her back too. But please, make sure she comes back to do good this time. We don't want a repeat of last year."

Veronica nodded. "You sure she isn't up to something deviant again? I don't want to owe your mother any more debt."

Jughead shook his head. "No. This is good. No more Breaking Bad this time."

Archie's phone rang. His brow furrowed. "Crap. I got to take this." Then the red-headed teen walked away from the lounge. "Hello?" His voice rang in the distance.

Jughead looked back to Betty and kissed her on the forehead. "Not this time."

"Refill, Jughead?" Jughead snapped back to his booth, realizing he had been staring vacantly at his screen. Pop Tate stood over him carrying a fresh pot of coffee.

"Sure, Pop," He said, lifting his mug. He looked at his phone. 10:02 PM, it glared back at him. He told Betty he would be home at midnight. Just a few more paragraphs, he thought to himself.

Then there was Archie Andrews. An All American boy next door turned ex-con and fighter, Archie Andrews had finally discovered purpose. Once at the mercy of multiple serial killers and a mafia father that landed him in jail, the boy longed to bring restoration to Riverdale, to give hope to a town that so desperately was looking for it. To bring those that were once at the mercy of the same threats he faced to the same community and grace he had found.

And while I was hoping for a family member's triumphant return, Archie was hoping for a family member's impossible return. Just as he had begun plans on a new community center – on creating a family for those who needed it - his own family was faced with an unimaginable tragedy.

Jughead took a large sip from his coffee mug, placing it on the table with a heavy thud. The memory for him was bad enough, but trying to imagine it from Archie's point of view was even worse. Just as junior year was coming to a close three months ago - just as the town was beginning to pull away from its' tainting of death - the unspeakable happened. And this time, it wasn't because of a serial killer, creepy cult, or anything else pulled straight from a mystery novel. It was simply life, which made the sting all the more bitter.

Archie, Veronica, and Mad Dog were huddled around the coffee table in the office area of the El Royale gym. Papers and blueprints were scattered around them.

"Now Archie, we just need to go through the upcoming budget. We can't have this place as a community center looking like this. A new coat of paint, some furniture, and a little more light in here will do the trick. Of course, updating the layout and facilities wouldn't hurt either."

"Ronnie, this is amazing. Are you sure we can afford this much though? I mean, I know your speakeasy is doing well, but this looks like a lot." He motioned his arms at the mess of papers scattered around them. "This shouldn't just be your money. This is my place. I want to help."

"And you are, Archie!" Veronica looked at him in shock. "This is your gym, and soon to be your new Riverdale Community Center. It's yours. I'm just helping out. I've got resources, you know."

Archie smiled. He missed this. He missed being a team with Veronica. She was his boxing manager, but that's all it had felt like for a while. After that night at Thornhill though, after watching Veronica almost succumb to poison, he yearned for the connection they used to have. He hoped they were returning to normal.

"Red, take the money! You know we don't have any. She's offering to pay for an updated place. This is a win-win," Mad Dog chipped in, shaking Archie's shoulder. "Imagine what this place could look like."

Archie looked around the office area. The old windows were still cracked and grimy from years of neglect. The couch he sat on had a few holes where the stuffing was leaking through. He turned his gaze out the office door into the main area. The boxing ring was the only clean looking part of the room, and that's only because Archie cleaned it methodically after every fight. Taped up bags hung around the room and dust swirled in the broken rays of sunlight that poured through grimy windows. He imagined families and children running around the area coughing in the dust and slipping on the floor. He couldn't have that.

"Alright, Ronnie. If you're serious about this, then so am I. We're fixing this place up."

Veronica beamed at the redhead. "Excellent!" she exclaimed while clapping her hands together. Mad Dog and Archie fist-bumped. "I'll just need you to sign some-"

She was cut off by a loud ringing that pierced the quiet, stiff air in the gym. Archie pulled his phone out of his pocket. "It's my mom. This should only take a minute." He got up from the couch and walked a few steps. "Hey, mom, what's up?"

Archie's face turned pale, all expression seeping from his eyes. The teen stood still and silent. Veronica and Mad Dog looked over at him, then exchanged a glance. Veronica gasped as Archie Andrews dropped to his knees, a clanging echo ringing throughout the gym as his phone crashed to the floor.


The air was cold for an early June day. No birds could be heard from the trees circling the cemetery. There were rows and rows of figures dressed in black, gathered around a beautiful wooden casket. Two roses and a wreath adorned the lid. Archie and Mary Andrews, their red hair sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the gray and black of the day, stood directly in front of the grave.

A car crash, Archie had told his friends. Fred Andrews was on his way back from an out of town work project and had gotten into a car crash. A man that had survived being shot by the Black Hood, a reopened nightmare with the Midnight Club, and double-crossing Hiram Lodge had been felled by such a petty circumstance. In a twisted sense, it was almost a poetic passing for someone like Fred Andrews.

"Amazing Grace" lifted softly over the solemn crowd as Archie stood to give the eulogy. He pulled out a few small index cards, his hands shaking. He looked out at the crowd – to Jughead and Betty, both holding back tears, to Veronica, a black knit head covering blending into her hair, to other familiar faces from school and town, and then to his mom, who nodded gently at him. The teen pushed the cards back into his jacket and slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Many of you knew my dad…" his shaking voice began. Come on, Andrews, he thought. Be strong. For him. "He was a man that loved Riverdale. Born and raised here, he never wanted to leave. He loved this town. He cared for it, almost as much as he cared for his family." Archie's lip began to quiver. This was too much, too soon. He almost lost his dad a year and a half ago, but now it was real. He couldn't sit by his dad's side and tell him to fight this time.

As Archie began to talk about family, Mary hung her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. She stood up and walked over to him, grabbing his arm. Archie looked at her, squeezed her hand, then continued.

"A family man. He worked so hard to support me growing up, just like he had when he was my age and had to care for my grandfather. He had so much love and care in his heart, it couldn't help but spill out to the rest of us." He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Archie's mind was racing with memories. "I remember once when I was little, Dad had taken me fishing at Sweetwater River. I was no good; I kept getting the hook stuck on a tree behind us and when I thought I had a fish, I only pulled up weeds from the river." The boy gave a soft smile, as did most of the crowd.

"I remember towards the end of the day, I accidentally caught my dad's pants." A few people, including Jughead, laughed. Archie was full-on smiling now, biting his lower lip and staring at the ground. "He wasn't mad. He was so patient. I started getting frustrated, and I threw my rod down and started crying. Dad came over and sat down next to me. He said, 'Son, I know this looks hard, but you just have to keep trying. When my father took me out fishing for the first time, I was even worse than you!' I remember not believing him - my father was great at everything. 'That's right,' he said. 'I accidentally threw my whole pole in the river instead of just the line.' Dad smiled at me and said, 'The trick is to just keep trying. Keep your head up and try. It just takes a little practice.'"

Archie wasn't trying to hold back tears now, they were flowing down his red cheeks, stinging in the cold breeze. "And that's exactly what my dad did. He never stopped trying. With me. With his business. With Riverdale. He tried so hard. Even when all the crazy was happening over the past two years, he tried his hardest to be a beacon, to be a safe place for me and the town. Because that's who Fred Andrews is. He is hope."

Mary hugged her son. Betty and Veronica were both beaming up at him, eyes glistening with coming tears. Archie could see Jughead squeeze Betty's hand. He looked around the crowd; the whole town seemed to be here for his dad.

"And that's what I knew my dad to be for so many of you, and I want to continue on that hope in Riverdale. No matter what may come - what may still happen - there is hope in Riverdale. Just because my dad is gone, hope is not. That's his legacy. Hope for Riverdale."

Hope for Riverdale. Those words bounced around in Jughead's mind. It's what he had named this current piece. Ever since the funeral, Archie had thrown himself into setting up the community center. He had spent the entire summer with Mad Dog and Veronica fixing up the place.

Although Archie had lost his father, he had not lost hope. Jughead continued to type. While the community center may be a requiem, it was also the promise of new life. For a dream that had been instilled in his father, now instilled in him, inspired further by his father's legacy. If hope was stirring in Riverdale, then Archie Andrews, the boy who just wanted to do good, was the one holding the spoon.

And right by his side was Veronica Lodge. She had come to Riverdale a privileged and spoiled daughter of a mafia boss. No longer did she want to hide in her family's shadow. Two parents in jail, and yet the shadow still lingered. Now, Veronica aimed to reclaim her name and usher in a new era for the Lodges. A successful businesswoman with continuing ventures, Veronica was still coasting from the magnificent high of putting away her criminal father. Yet the passionate raven-haired teen still had her soft spots. One was a red-haired boy, the other was family. No matter how hard Veronica tried to get away, she still felt the same tantalizing pull. After everything her parents put her through, she still wanted to see them. Her mother may have been guilty, but Veronica still wanted at least one parent.

Clang. The metal door slammed shut as Veronica sat down on the small hard stool in front of a wall of glass. Across from her sat Hermione in a dull gray jumpsuit. It was strange seeing her mother without makeup, Veronica thought. She looks so much older, so much... sadder. Veronica picked up the phone on the wall and held it cautiously to her mouth.

"Mom," she started.

"Veronica," breathed Hermione, a look of thankfulness on her face.

"Mom, I know your hands aren't the cleanest, but you shouldn't be here. I believe Daddy orchestrated your arrest."

Hermione sighed. "Of course he did, Veronica. I- I was blind. After everything your father has done, I still didn't think he would take it this far."

Veronica closed her eyes slowly. "He may already be in jail, but he still has a lot to pay for. Whoever thought it was a good idea to lock Daddy up in his own prison should be evaluated. He's still pulling strings, just like before." Her eyes narrowed, locking with her mother's sympathetic eyes. "Which is why I'm going to play him at his own game. Again."

"Veronica," Hermione began, "be careful, honey. You know how he thinks. And now-," she swallowed, "I don't think he's playing by the same rules. We aren't family to him anymore." Tears welled at the corner of her eyes.

Veronica had only seen her mother like this a few times, but each time she had been able to comfort her - To hug her and let her know she was there. This time though, there was a wall between them. Veronica reached her hand up and pressed it against the cold glass. Her mother did the same. "I'll get you out, Mom. Daddy is going down. Once and for all."


"Careful, Archie!" Veronica shouted as Archie swung a punching bag over his head, narrowly missing her. The two had begun cleaning out the gym to make way for the new features. The floors had been properly scrubbed and swept, the windows had been replaced, and fresh light now flooded the main arena of the gym.

"Sorry Ronnie," Archie mumbled. "I can't see over this thing." He adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder and walked toward the storage closet. The gym was already looking better than it ever had before, and this was only a simple cleanup.

"Alright, so the electrician should be here in about 20 minutes, then we need to find the water meter before the water company gets here at 2 pm." Veronica flipped through her gold-framed ledger, double-checking the itinerary for the day. "What time did you say Mad Dog and the other boys would be here?"

"Not until 5," Archie said as he walked back into the room. "Why?"

"Good. That means after we're finished up with the utilities, we've got some time. Maybe a quick stop to Pop's?" Veronica smiled. Archie smiled back. The two had been spending more time together since the construction on the gym began. More than they had in a long time.

"Yeah. That sounds great, Ronnie. I'm starving." He plopped down on the still busted couch that sat in the gym office. Veronica joined him, gracefully crossing her legs while placing her ledger on the coffee table. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Archie rested his head back on the couch.

"So," Veronica piped up. She looked over at Archie and placed a hand on his thigh. "How are you, Archie? I've been watching you. You've thrown yourself into this gym as much as I have." She looked up at him, concerned. She knew that whenever Archie really threw himself into something, it was out of stress, or avoidance, rather than pure determination.

Archie slowly lolled his head towards her. He was silent, just simply staring into her eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he straightened up and let out a long sigh, pressing his fist into his chin. "Not good, Ronnie. I don't know how to do anything without him." Veronica began rubbing his back in circles, drawing her head closer to his shoulder. "He's just gone. And I couldn't protect him."

"Arch, there was nothing for you to do. It was a car accident. For once in this town, there was nothing diabolical about this."

"That's the thing. What if there was? I've been replaying scenarios over and over in my head. What if it was foul play?"

Veronica leaned into his shoulder, feeling his muscles flex and relax every other breath. She had thought the same thing in the beginning. Her father had caused a "car accident" before. But he didn't have any grudges against Fred anymore. Besides, they had seen the police report and there was no sign of foul play. Not this time.

"Archiekins," she began. Archie gave a quick shudder. She hadn't called him that in ages. Had she overstepped? But he turned towards her. "While we are in a town full of more conspiracies than a History channel documentary, this isn't one of them." She sighed and straightened up this time. "It was just life this time." She gazed into his dark eyes. He wanted to believe her, she could see it. "Archie, it was a tragedy. It was too soon. But, it was a drunk driver. Nothing more."

Tears began to roll down the boy's face. He closed his eyes and his face scrunched up. "I know." He swallowed, "But..." he trailed off, "after everything we've gone through, this is harder to face. No mystery, no serial killers - just a man in court who was sincerely sorry. Somehow, this is harder."

Veronica grabbed Archie's hands in hers as she twirled, kneeling on the ground in front of him. "Oh, Archie. My sweet, brave Archiekins." She placed her forehead on his chest. "Everything is going to be okay. You're going to get through this." And with that, she reached up and kissed him.

But maybe the pull that tugged at Veronica's heart was for a different family. The Lodge daughter may have built herself a nest egg, but she was now searching for an actual nest. A safe place to land after her father had cut down her tree. Veronica had become anything but the spoiled kid that first rode into Riverdale in the back of a chauffeured car. No, Veronica Lodge had experienced true pain and loss, but she had now known true love. And twig by twig, stick by stick, the raven was rebuilding her home, claiming a new family, one that she had built.

Jughead let out a long sigh. 10:58 PM. He yawned and rubbed his eyes; he had been staring at his keyboard all day. He looked around and noticed that he was the only one left despite it being fairly early for a 24-hour diner.

"Don't you have school tomorrow, Jughead?" Pop asked from across the diner. He was scrubbing down the counter, the small trail of a spilled milkshake still visible. "You should be getting home."

"Yes, but when has that ever stopped me from being up late before, Pop?" He gave the shopkeeper a quick smirk. Pop let a small smile cross his face, then shook his head and went back to cleaning. He did have a point. I told Betty I'd be home by midnight. Jughead yawned a second time and looked back towards his computer. The cursor sat blinking back at him, begging him to continue. "Just a bit more..." he muttered to himself.

Of course, there's one more resident of Riverdale that belongs to this story, the one who seems to have been the key to everything, the key that has unlocked all of Riverdale's murderous mysteries. The girl next door. The aspiring investigative journalist and star detective of the town. My partner in crime and crown, Betty Cooper. If anyone has changed, it's her. Yet, maybe changed isn't the right word. She's seen and felt the most out of all of us. Somehow she, or part of her family, has been a part of every oddity in the town. She carries it all. Some call her troubled for it, but me, I know that's not true. She's haunted. My beautiful haunted Betty, who currently faced someone who was believed to have only been a ghost.

"How-how are you alive?" Betty fumbled over the question. It had been two weeks since the FBI set up shop in Riverdale, yet she had only now gotten the courage – and the time – to sit down with her long-thought-dead brother. Charles smiled across from her. Betty had asked if they could meet at Pop's to talk and get to know each other. "Chic said he saw you die."

Charles gave her a sad look. "I honestly thought I was dead too. Whatever he told you about my drug use... that-that was true. I'm not proud of it, Betty. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I thought I had OD'ed, but by some miracle I woke up in the hospital with a second chance at life. I was going to stop feeling sorry for myself and do some good, so I joined the FBI."

Betty analyzed her brother as he smiled and nodded while continuing his story about FBI training and his involvement with The Farm case. He seemed so genuine, too real to actually be sitting across from her. At one time, Chic had seemed just as genuine. Not as open or friendly, but… real. She had just wanted to see her mom smile again, but she had ended up bringing home their biggest problem. But this time, there was a large chance this Charles was her real brother.

"When my team began the investigation with The Farm, I wasn't expecting to find my family in the middle of it. Our mom had reached out only a few days earlier - after Polly first asked her about joining. She was so curious, continuously saying she had a feeling I was still alive."

"After everything Chic told us, and then learning about who he really was, she must have doubted him. She told me the Farm let her speak to you… she meant she really WAS speaking to you. But… but she couldn't tell me because she was undercover." Betty shook her head. This was too much to take in, even after everything else that had happened. She hadn't expected her dead brother to walk into her life. She sighed and crossed her arms on the table. "I didn't believe her. I thought she was just brainwashed and going crazy."

"I'm sorry, Betty. I know that was probably hard. For both you and her. She begged us to let you in on the investigation for so long, but we couldn't. There were a few times I thought she may have actually lost it, though. Sorry about all your money." He gave Betty an apologetic smile.

"It's okay, Charles. I still… I just… I just can't believe you are actually alive. Ever since we thought Chic was you, I've been longing for a real brother."

"Makes it a little weird that I'm also Jughead's brother, doesn't it?" Charles was leaning over his plate, a playful look on his face.

Betty gave a small laugh. "Yeah, but after the year I've had, it doesn't bother me much." She squirmed a bit before asking her next question. "Uh, about that. I know you're an FBI agent, but after the last scare we had, is it okay if you get a DNA test? You know, so I know for a FACT that you are who you say who are, and not... not a ghost?"

Charles nodded. "Of course, Betty. What kind of a detective would I be if I didn't crosscheck my facts?"

Betty smiled at the mention of 'detective.' "How long have you wanted to be in the FBI?" she asked. "Have you always been drawn to mysteries?"

"Since the Hardy Boys." Charles laughed. "Encyclopedia Brown. Those were some of my favorite books growing up. I wouldn't let myself finish the book unless I had a mapped out answer to the mystery."

Betty grinned. "It was Nancy Drew for me…"

The two siblings continued to laugh and talk about their childhoods while eating burgers and sipping on vanilla milkshakes in their booth at Pop's, the family walls between them breaking down.

Meanwhile, Betty was also finally leaning into what probably the entire town of Riverdale needed – therapy. Hope was stirring, and Betty was determined to add healing to the mix. After lying about sessions before, Betty Cooper thought that maybe it was time to take a new approach and embrace this different type of change. From the inside out instead of from the outside in. Riverdale's very own Nancy Drew was going to solve her own mysteries, walk into the dark of her own choice instead of getting shoved into the shadows, determined to walk out and back into the light she knew was still there.

"I've always just wanted to be good. Do the right things." Betty said as she sat in a cushy black chair. The office she sat in was full of calming nature photographs and random knick-knacks. "But so many people around me encourage darkness, keep telling me to give in. To be… evil." She didn't even want to speak the word. She still shuddered at the memory of Polly standing in the shadows, pretending to be the "true" Betty Cooper. Of Edgar Evernever telling her she had a malady and hypnotizing her into watching images of herself that didn't exist. "I don't know why. Why does everyone want to push that? Am I nothing more than a scapegoat for their darkness?"

Dr. Glass looked away from the notes he had been writing. Betty had been searching for a trustworthy therapist and had come across his practice. The irony of previously pretending to have a therapist named Dr. Glass was too much and Betty signed up with him immediately. "Betty, everyone has light and dark in them. But encouraging the dark, the temptations you feel, it isn't right or healthy."

"I know." Of course, I know that, she thought. Sometimes the therapist was just so obvious, but he was also helpful. She finally had someone to talk to that was separated from all the turmoil of her life.

"Have you still been having trouble sleeping? Having dreams?" Betty looked straight through him. She was. And right now it was the same one over and over.

"Yes," she said quietly, "The same nightmare for the past two weeks to be honest. My dad's cold green eyes piercing through me, screaming at me to shoot him, but I'm just frozen." She closed her eyes and shuddered. There were so many images in her head that could never be unseen. And it all started with that video of Clifford shooting Jason. That was the memory that started it all - that beget all the others. And she had stood in a position not too dissimilar to that one. Father pointing a gun at his child's head. "I didn't want to shoot him. Not even in the hand. He was awful, disgusting, but, he was still my father." She sucked in a breath.

"And you had to watch him die."

"I still cared about him." A tear rolled down her cheek as her voice grew, "I will never, NEVER, be like him. I'm choosing to fight the darkness, not give in to it."

Dr. Glass gave her a sympathetic look. "You are brave, Betty. Most of my patients haven't been in situations even remotely close to yours'. But here you are, choosing to fight." Betty shifted around in her seat. Brave. Everyone called her that. She still felt at times that she didn't deserve that title. She felt like so much of what happened in the town was her fault. It was somehow all connected to her. Hot tears began streaming down her face.

"It's all my fault," she sobbed. "It's all my fault. I caused the Black Hood. I caused the pain that led my mom to The Farm." She struggled to suck in a breath between the sobs, " I'm not good."

But she is. Betty Cooper is good. And she is one of the strongest fighters I know. We all were. We all just wanted to be teenagers, but we were forced to be detectives, fighters, and prisoners - pawns in a game larger than us all, sometimes even larger than Riverdale. But Betty knew that she finally had to let it all out. In order to move on from the personal hell that the town had put her in, she had to let it out and let it go. Just as Betty had led the town to the truth of each mystery, she was leading them in the charge for healing. And even though she still had to fight through many tears, Betty smiled. She smiled at the prospect of what was next, of what could be found in the coming chapters in Riverdale's chronicle.

Hope was stirring. Healing was coming. The ouroboros that had wrapped itself around the town was retreating, being forced back into the outlying shadows by determined citizens. No longer a sleepy town, Riverdale had truly woken up. It was reclaiming its future, and the future was ours to write.

Jughead stretched his arms over his head and shut his laptop. 11:45 PM. Not too bad, he thought. I'll only be a little late. Betty would probably still be up, making sure he got home safely. He shoved his laptop into his bag and grabbed the helmet sitting next to him. "See ya, Pop!"

"Goodnight, Jughead." The old man called after the teen. A small ding rang out in the quiet night as Jughead swung open the front door to the Chock'lit Shoppe. Swinging one leg over his bike, he revved the engine, a beast roaring to life in the still night air. Jughead looked around him and breathed in the cool midnight breeze. A few lightning bugs still blinked in and out of his sight, small flares shimmering in the dark. He flicked on the bike's headlight and drove off into the night.

And the future was ours to write. Those were the last words he had written. If only he had known what lie ahead for the friends and for the town of Riverdale, the town he thought had awoken, but may instead just be stuck inside a layered, perpetual dream, a nightmare it couldn't shake. Maybe the cycle hadn't broken yet. If hope was stirring in Riverdale, it would have to wait just a little longer.


Author's Notes: And we're off!

Filling in a bit of exposition/set-up for the whole story in this one. Again, whatever happens in Season 4 won't be canon to this. I'm taking it in my own direction because I just have a feeling whatever the show delivers won't be satisfying. But I'm still in love with the characters and wanted to explore some areas and some emotional depths that I'm betting the show won't even touch.

Review if you'd like! I love the feedback and interacting with everyone! They are appreciated and help keep me motivated to write :)

Thanks for popping in!