The end of a story. Let's make it a happy one.

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed along the way, especially those who repeatedly popped up (I miss hearing from some of you and hope you're well): Whenitsover, potatokarate, leoslady4ever, Livy, Jen2000, ToxicLove07, tennismaniac19, TheOneTrueBear, SayBay218, printhie, MissFlowerGirl13, so many people and guest reviewers. Thank you for reviews, for PMs, and for coming on this journey with me.

If you've read In Case Of Emergency, I've borrowed a moment from it for the epilogue.

Archie's Song: You Made Her by Scott Helman

Song playing during breakfast in bed: The Darkest One - The Tragically Hip

STAY TUNED FOR THE END NOTES - THERE'S MORE BUGHEAD COMING.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but Bughead better have a great ending like this one.

Epilogue: Heroes

"I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can be Heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day…"

Heroes – David Bowie

Four Years Later

"I often say I love my job. I'm grateful to those who support this podcast for letting me tell the stories that matter to me. But for those of us who choose to shine a light into the darkness and reveal the horrors lying within, there is always an emotional toll. Our compassion for the victims weighs heavily on us as we interview them or their families. There is also the toll of immersing in these case files, digging through photos and descriptions of the worst things human beings do to each other."

Hitting pause on the recording, he downed the rest of his now cold coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar face and quickly held up three fingers. They were acknowledged by a nod.

Recording resumed, he continued to speak. "Someone important to me once called out that sleepy town of Riverdale for burying the truth, ignoring the darkness in favour of a candy-coated lie. The story of the Black Hood Killer, and his inadvertent exposure of the deep racial and class divides in the town, is an important one. But having lived through the experience and nearly losing friends in the process, I knew that when we reached this final instalment, I'd need to step away for a few weeks. That's right, listeners: for the first time in three years, I'm taking an actual vacation! I can scarcely believe it myself. We'll be back with a new episode on October 16th. Those of you who generously support us as monthly members , however, can look forward to a special video chat next Saturday night, which I will be broadcasting from Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. Yes, that Pop's. As always, thank you for listening. Stay safe in those neon cities and sleepy towns."

Hitting stop, Jughead pulled off his headset and smiled. He'd mix this down tonight, ship it off to Toni for a little extra polish, and tomorrow morning, the final instalment of the Black Hood season would be available on iTunes for his five million (and counting) listeners. His support had grown, allowing him to live more than comfortably on the proceeds even if he hadn't just signed a publishing deal for a book on Riverdale's dark side. And while he missed taking classes full time at Columbia, he had no regrets about dropping out.

Well, maybe one tiny, silly regret. It meant less time with his favourite person, and former classmate.

Gathering up his dishes from the shared office, he padded out to the kitchen, where a svelte blonde was gathering various vegetables from the fridge. She glanced up at his approach, grinning widely.

"Hey babe, podcast all done?"

"Just needs a mix, which can wait until you head out with Veronica." Setting his dishes in the sink, he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Hey, you had a long shift today. Let me cook dinner."

"No way. It's your birthday tomorrow. And what do we do every birthday?"

With an exaggerated sigh, he leaned against the stove. "I let you spoil me because you love me, and I give you three days off from telling you not to do it."

"Exactly!" Setting out a bag with two marinated striploin steaks and the fixings for a garden salad, Betty tightened her ponytail and washed her hands. "If you insist on doing something, you can pick a bottle of wine for dinner and get the table set. But I've got these incredible steaks from the butcher that will cook up in no time."

His arms slid around her waist from behind as he kissed her neck. "I love you, Betts. Thank you."

"Love you too, Juggie. Now shoo!"

He made quick work of the table settings, setting out the red wine glasses before choosing a bottle of Betty's favourite Australian Cabernet. He opened the wine and left it to breathe before checking his phone. A slew of text messages awaited him, most from a pesky younger sister.

Archie: Hey, we still grabbing coffee tomorrow before your party? Wanted to go over last-minute details.

Veronica: Did Archie talk to you about the entertainment yet?

JB: Hey brother, happy early birthday! You're finally drinking legally, hahaha.

JB: But seriously dude, you'll pick me up at the airport Monday, right?

JB: Hello, Forsythe? Stop macking on your girlfriend and reassure meeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Firing back quick confirmations to Archie and Veronica, his attention turned to his sister.

It's called work, JB. How else do you think I paid for your flight? Yes, we will be there Monday. Betty might even bake her salted caramel cookies if you behave. Talk tomorrow afternoon?

"Dinner in two!" Betty called out.

His sister was quick to reply: Um, yeah! I want all of the details of the party I'm not allowed to attend.

Setting his phone aside, he poured the wine and took his usual seat at their antique table, a lucky find at a yard sale a month after the move to New York. The two of them had made the move immediately after high school, matching acceptance letters to Columbia in hand. Archie and Veronica had soon followed—Veronica enrolling in Marketing at NYU and Archie accepting a football scholarship at Rutgers to study Psychology. The commute to Newark was tough at times, but Archie and Veronica had made it work, thanks in large part to Veronica's trust fund. Having unearthed enough dirt to send her father back to prison ten times over, she'd made a play for early control of her trust fund at graduation in exchange for her silence.

What Veronica had failed to tell Daddy Lodge was that she'd already helped Sheriff Keller locate all of the evidence necessary to slap the cuffs on him. Hiram was currently serving a twelve year sentence, no chance of parole. Veronica hadn't visited him once.

Betty sat his dinner down with a flourish, pulling him from his memories of their once-empty apartment. While Jughead still longed for a more hearty side dish—salad and steak seemed wrong to him—Betty's health-kick compromise was buying him inordinately large steaks to compensate.

Raising her wine glass, Betty smiled brightly across the table. "Happy birthday weekend."

He raised his glass, clinking it gently against hers. "And now we can both buy wine legally!"

Taking a sip of her wine, Betty hummed happily. "This one's my favourite. But you know that." Setting her wine aside, she reached across the table for his hand. "Are you sure you want a party tomorrow? You're not just having one for my sake, are you?"

"Betty, this isn't my seventeenth birthday. It's a highly-controlled, private event with a guest list and bouncers. It's fine, I promise."

He dug into his steak, popping a large bite into his mouth to cut off the line of discussion. While he understood Betty's concerns, he'd elected to have a party this year after careful consideration. For starters, he wanted to challenge himself to shake off his dislike of his birthday, particularly after Betty's party in June. Her joy and gratitude for the efforts he and Veronica had gone to was so immense, he understood now why Betty wanted to express her love in elaborate and meaningful fashion.

Of course, he had other reasons for wanting to celebrate in a group this year, not that he planned to tell her in advance.

"Oh! Veronica said she needs help with some last minute decorations for the party tomorrow. Do you mind if I pop out after lunch to help her? I know we're also going to Sabrina's bachelorette party tonight." Betty frowned, stabbing at her salad. "You know I'd rather spend the entire weekend with you, don't you?"

"You care far more about my birthday than I ever will. Archie wanted to grab coffee if I had time tomorrow, so it works out perfectly. Just us guys, that sort of thing." Jughead rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Like we don't do that twice a week?"

"Yeah, but you two have been friends since birth. Archie's a sentimentalist like that."

That and I'm calling in a favour, Jughead mused.

They fell into easy conversation, as they always did: Betty talked about her latest assignment at the family law clinic, while Jughead laid out the opening episode for his next season of It's a Murderous Day in the Neighbourhood. He was focusing on a case from Canada that had been recommended by a listener, one where the killer was currently on trial. He was hoping to take a trip over the border to cover the proceedings, although their schedules were certainly full over the next few months.

Dishes washed quickly in tandem, he looped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Is there dessert?" he murmured.

"Depends on your definition. I mean, there may be cookies stashed in the bedroom, but I could also be stashed in the bedroom, if you like," she purred.

"Have I ever told you that you're the only person in the world for me?"

Her hands fisted in his hair as she pressed her hips against him. "Maybe once or twice."

"I'm taking my dessert to go, then," he growled, hoisting her into the air.

Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist as her hands clung to his shoulders. Giggling and kissing their way down the hall—Jughead bumping his head into the bedroom door in his haste—he carried his stunning soulmate to his favourite room in their home. Walls adorned in photos and framed replicas of their favourite book covers, and with a large bookcase of personal favourites in the far corner, it was their haven from the world at large. It was also where he laid her down, as he did now, to explore and ravish her body at every opportunity.

"I want to be on top," Betty insisted, moaning softly as he unzipped her jeans and flicked his tongue along her inner thigh.

"I'll take it under advisement. But first, you promised me dessert."

Peeling off the denim and silk between them, he paused briefly, admiring the soft porcelain of her skin, the curving of her hips, and the way she opened herself to him. The trust they shared was sacred to him, and he never let himself take it for granted.

"Juggie, please?"

"Please you? I think I can manage that," he teased as he trailed open-mouth kisses up her left thigh.

Betty squirmed on the bed beneath him, gasping at his first sampling of her. Grinning to himself, he tormented her with kisses trailing down her right thigh.

"You're being mean," she complained, squeezing her thighs together.

"I'm savouring you like your wine," he countered. "But I could always go mix my podcast—"

"Jughead Jones, don't you dare! I have to leave at nine."

Crawling up her body, he planted his elbows on either side of her head. Leaning down, he seized her lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently.

"Like I could resist you, Betts." The words were heavy, loaded with the immense love for her that centred his entire existence. "Now, where was I?"

Betty's fingers slid through her hair as she guided him back down where she ached for him, her appreciative moans filling his ears like a symphony. Her back arched as his groin tightened and fingers found hers and interlaced. She was scarcely soaring, peaking and crying out, before he'd stripped himself bare and pressed into her. The shock of contact stole their breath as he hovered over her briefly, before a clever ankle hook turned the tables. Tugging her blonde hair free of her ponytail, she sunk down upon him with a satisfied murmur.

"My turn."

Hands planted on his shoulders, soft waves cascading down to graze his chest, she fixed her green eyes upon him as she began to move. Soft kisses and whispered vows of love fell from their lips in mutual exaltation. His golden sun went supernova and he surrendered happily to her fiery lust, consumed by her.

His twenty-first birthday had begun in the best possible way: a naked Betty Cooper, wild curls framing her features, had slipped beneath the sheets and woken him up with her expert mouth. A lazy morning of lovemaking and laughter had been topped off with breakfast in bed (fluffy flapjacks and a healthy side of bacon). He'd tugged Betty to sit between his legs, nestled against his chest as they shared a plate and sipped coffee.

"This is my favourite place," he mused, feeding her a slice of bacon. "You and me, no noise, no work. Just us."

Music played softly in the background, piped in from Betty's iPhone. Her "Bughead playlist", as she called it. Songs that reminded her of their relationship. Right now, it was a song by The Tragically Hip, a band they'd stumbled onto at his favourite vinyl store in the city.

"Where the wild are strong
And the strong are the darkest ones…"

"I wish we didn't have to go anywhere today." Betty turned slightly, offering him the last forkful of pancake. "I'd much rather stay in bed with you."

"We'll have time at the end of vacation for that, Betts. A whole weekend, just us. We'll ignore our phones, order in and ban clothes." He opened his mouth, accepting the syrup-kissed morsel. "Mmmm."

"It's a deal, Mr. Jones." With a soft kiss, Betty reluctantly untangled herself from the sheets. "I have to shower and meet V. You joining me?"

"Somehow, I suspect that will be counterproductive. Besides, it's noon, which means any minute—" He laughed as his phone began to ring on the night stand. "What did I tell you?"

Betty slipped out of bed, squealing as Jughead spanked her playfully. Reaching for his phone, he smiled. His dad, like clockwork.

"Hey, Dad. Betty says you have excellent timing."

"Happy birthday, Jug. Tell Betty her sarcasm is noted," he replied lightly. "Twenty-one. Where the hell has the time gone?"

"No idea. I think I might actually feel this one. Is this being old? I'm asking an expert."

"Ha, ha, smart ass. Just wait until you find your first greys at twenty-five, like the rest of us Jones men." There was a shuffling on the other side of the line. "Sorry, gathering up my things for the drive to New York. She in the room?"

From down the hall, the cascading sound of their rainfall shower signalled his girlfriend was preoccupied. "Nope, but given the profession…"

"I'll do most of the talking, then. You still going ahead with it?"

"Absolutely, although now the nausea is back. Thanks, Dad."

"It's going to be fine. Trust me. I've known that woman as long as you have. And your plan is perfect."

His fingers toyed with the hem of the bed sheet, twisting and folding it. "I hope so. It's just… things never go right on my birthday."

"Now that's a lie and you know it," his father chided. "Things used to be awkward or bad on your birthday, but have the last three been awful?"

Jughead's mind drifted back, recounting those three days: a weekend in Boston; a weekend in a cabin in Vermont; Betty and Jughead, alone watching movies in the basement of the Cooper home. While yes, every year had a mild hiccup, he'd been with the woman he loved. Just the two of them, as he'd asked.

"You raise a valid point. But this is a party."

"Think of it as a party to celebrate Betty, then. What she brings to your life. I may be divorced,, but I understand women enough to know that celebrating them, thanking them for all they do, that's all it takes."

"I'll do my best."

"Alright, I'm gonna get on the road. Party's at eight, right?"

"Yeah, just give them your name at the door. The bar's closed to the public tonight. And Dad? Thank you… for the pep talk, I guess."

"Love you, Jughead. See you soon."

Drawing a deep breath, his lips curved into a smile as the faint sound of Betty singing in the shower caught his attention. Why was he worrying? As long as the focus remained on her, he would be fine.

A flurry of activity filled the Cooper-Jones home in the next hour as Betty and Jughead readied themselves for their respective outings. Betty disappeared at one, while Jughead slipped out to the coffee shop down the street for one-thirty. Archie was prompt, sheet music in hand and a coffee waiting for his friend. They embraced warmly, Archie murmuring a birthday wish before they sat down.

"It's a busy day, but I wanted to check in and make sure everything's perfect for tonight," Archie explained.

"Yeah, that's fine," Jughead assured him. "Truth be told, now that Betty is off planning or whatever fake emergency Veronica invented—thank her for that, by the way—I'm scared shitless."

The redhead leaned forward, brow furrowed. "I don't understand. This is Betty."

"Yes, it's Betty. This incredible woman with a giving heart, our friend since kindergarten, the only woman I've ever loved. So yes, while it rationally seems like a done deal, the stakes are high and I'm panicking, Arch." Jughead's grip on his coffee mug tightened as he suddenly longed for the beanie he'd given up wearing two years ago. "Is it too soon?"

"Jughead, she loves you, unconditionally. You've been together for four years now. I guarantee she'll say yes, especially after all of the effort you've gone to. Speaking of, am I still holding onto it?"

Jughead nodded furiously. "Trust me. No matter where I tried to hide it, she'd randomly stumble upon it. I'll grab it off you tonight at the bar."

"Speaking of, the renovations look fantastic. Worth every penny that ol' Pete spent on the place." Archie held out his phone to Jughead, flipping through a series of photos. "The gold and blue accents are a little creepy as a coincidence, though."

"You're not kidding," Jughead mumbled.

Archie had been working as a bouncer at Where Angels Fear to Tread, a tiny speakeasy hidden in Manhattan, since its opening in 2020. Having become a beloved hot spot over the last year, thanks in no small part to Archie's regular performances garnering the attention of music industry insiders, the owner had decided to add new flourishes to the décor and upgrade the seating. Apparently, he'd opted for tasteful gold flourishes and glass lightshades cast in a deep blue.

While the bar had been scheduled for ten days of renovations, Archie had pleaded with Pete to keep the place closed for an extra night. Veronica's trust fund had secured the open bar and staffing, along with Archie's promise to work Thanksgiving weekend. The latter, he knew, was a huge ask, but Archie had willingly offered.

"Ronnie and I are soundchecking at three-thirty. I took a quick look at the gear last night, made sure the contractors didn't screw up wiring or anything. It's all good to go." Archie examined the sheet music. "It's pretty straight forward. I've been practicing the melody for a week with Ronnie at home. We're just pulling together the drums and bass today."

Jughead forced a smile, his mind still racing with increasingly catastrophic endings to the night, including a random vision of a T-Rex stomping him flat as he walked down the street. That had to be the red wine; every time they drank it, his imagination went into a surreal overdrive. All the same, the reassurances of his friends and family were doing little to shrug off his overwhelming anxiety. What if he couldn't tell her? What if it came out all wrong? What if she rejected him in front of everyone?

"Jug? Hey, come back to earth," Archie urged him.

"Sorry. I'm not good company, I guess."

"No, you're a perfectly normal guy. But seriously, listen to me on this. I've known Betty as long as you have, right?" At Jughead's affirming nod, he continued. "I've also known you my entire life. So I'd like to think I understand you both pretty well."

"Are you about to use your psych major shit on me?"

"Maybe, but I'm also using experience here." Archie downed his coffee, pushing the mug aside. "You're only afraid right now because of what happened with your parents. Now, I know that you rationally know that Betty is not your mom and you are not your dad. But you've spent your entire life waiting for everyone to disappoint you, and many people have. But Betty hasn't, has she?"

"No," he reluctantly admitted. "Not in any way that matters."

"Exactly!" Archie smiled, relaxing into his seat. "And that's why you love her, right? Because she's there for you. So when the anxiety you're literally shaking with takes over your brain today, I want you to list off every single time Betty has had your back. That's evidence. That's all you need. As for Betty, she spent her entire life not feeling good enough before you two hooked up. You're offering her undeniable proof that she is good enough. How can it go wrong?"

Seated in this bustling café, where he and Betty often came for a quick coffee before her classes at Columbia, Archie's words grounded him. Evidence. As a journalist, he'd spent his entire career following just that. They'd fallen in love pursuing it. The evidence was in the way Betty would bake cookies whenever he was struggling with the podcast. The evidence lay in how she'd always arrange her schedule to be with him on his mother's birthday, knowing it stung. The evidence was in those mesmerizing eyes of hers when she came undone beneath him.

"Okay. Okay, I can do this. Thank you."

"Brothers for life," Archie reminded him. "I'm going to go set up for soundcheck. See you at eight."

Archie patted his arm on the way out, leaving Jughead with half a coffee and a heart full of certainty. Focus on the evidence. Easy as that. Scrolling through his phone contacts, he tapped on his sister's number, waiting for her to pick up.

"Brother of mine! Happy birthday!"

"Hey, JB. Thank you. Don't have long before Betty's home, but wanted to give you a call."

"So you're doing it tonight? Dad said it's tonight!" His sister's enthusiasm was on par with the time she'd found a rare Bauhaus vinyl lurking at the Salvation Army store.

"Yeah, it's tonight. You've kept your mouth shut since June, right?"

"Of course I have. How dare you? Like I'd ruin the greatest romance Riverdale has ever known!"

Jughead snorted, sipping his coffee. "Really, JB? What has puberty done to you?"

"What has being a jaded true crime podcaster done to you, huh? Great final episode, by the way. I just listened to it. Anyway, come on: childhood besties who were so obviously into each other that even I told Mom you'd get married when I was seven. High school sweethearts who bonded over solving murders, shacked up in the big city, with the exact same career aspirations. Hell, both of your fathers ended up in jail. It's a noir fairytale."

Jughead laughed heartily, staring out at the bustling sidewalk. "Remind me not to let you make a speech if this wedding happens, alright?"

"Like you're stopping me! One sec." He heard the phone shift and his sister hollering at Milkshake, her kitten, to stop howling. "Sorry, she's an idiot who thinks screaming in the kitchen will get her extra treats. I swear they put crack in them. Anyway, serious stuff now, brother of mine. Did Betty ever tell you about our first conversation after you two hooked up?"

"The Facebook convo where you interrogated her?"

"No, the phone call, when you were in the hospital."

The hospital… The Black Hood. Hal Cooper, as they learned eventually. On the night he'd been umasked, Jughead had been jumped by the Ghoulies in a paid hit, presumably financed by Hiram Lodge. Betty had been brought to the hospital for shock after her father had tried to kill her family, only to find FP in the waiting room, desperately trying to call her broken phone. He'd broken two ribs, suffered blood loss and exposure from being left in the winter chill, but he'd recovered quickly. And while Betty had whispered many things to him in that hospital room, none of them involved his sister.

"I have no memory of this."

"Good, I asked her to keep it that way. I heard about what happened on the news and called Dad, but he was a blubbering mess. So he passed me over to Betty. She wasn't a hell of a lot better. She was crying. But I could at least understand the words she was speaking. The whole story doesn't matter, but here's the part I want to tell you now. You sitting down?"

"Yeah, JB." His stomach flipped, uncertain whether he wanted her to continue.

"So after she'd given me the scary news of your beating, I was lost. I mean, Mom was out with a loser, grandma and grandpa were asleep. I need to do something until there were buses to Riverdale. So I asked her about dating you. Made a joke about how it was nice to talk to 'the future mother of his children, never to be named Forsythe or Forsythia'."

"Jellybean! Damn it, why?"

"Because I'm a smart ass who's determined to end this god-awful tradition of names? Oh, you mean the kids part? Because I crack jokes when I'm scared. Remind you of anyone?"

Jughead slumped in his chair, understanding now why Betty had omitted this story. "Jesus, we'd been dating like four months? What did she say?"

"That's why I'm telling you this, dummy! She simply says, 'Yes, I am.' No hesitation, no nerves. Confident as hell. Why yes, I'm the future mother of his kids. You connecting the dots yet?"

"She was in shock," he protested.

"Jughead, listen to your sister. I'm a woman, we know things."

"You're fifteen!"

"A woman. Anyway, listen to me: she loves you. She's never been uncertain of that. We've been talking for almost four years and whenever you come up, she's the happiest person alive. So ask the damn girl to marry you, alright? I know for a FACT she'll say yes."

"And if you're somehow wrong?"

His sister laughed. "I'm not, but if I am, I will start using Forsythia in my daily life for a full year. I'm that sure."

That was an enormous vote of confidence. And while this conversation made him realize that he should have peered over Betty's shoulder more often as she chatted with his younger sibling, it had steeled his resolve to propose.

"Love you, JB."

"Love you, too. Make sure people take a million pictures for me, since you chose a licensed venue for this momentous occasion!"

Goodbyes exchanged, Jughead finished his coffee and headed down the street to the apartment. Everyone in his life was so certain of Betty's answer tonight. He would try to believe them.

But maybe he would dig out his beanie, just in case.

Betty was in danger.

Serious danger, Jughead thought as he walked her up to the entrance of Where Angels Fear To Tread. The biggest danger. Because if he caught another glimpse of the plunging back on her dress, he would not be responsible for how thoroughly ravaged she would be in the bar's back room.

Her dress for the evening was a pearl white that shimmered beneath the street lights and fell just below her knees. Despite its angelic colour and ornate lace, the scarcely there bodice with its deep V-neck was positively unholy. At his request, Betty's hair was down in loose, looping curls that framed her face. Her makeup was light, as was Betty's preference (and his), but the hint of green around her eyes was stunning.

In fact, he was feeling rather under-dressed in his black suit and tie, and eager to shed the stupid jacket. But her wide smile as he'd stepped out of the bedroom had made it all worthwhile.

"Good evening Jughead, Betty," greeted Pete as they stepped inside the renovated space. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," Betty gushed, glancing around. "The lights are perfect, Pete. Heaven-sent."

"As are you," the owner gushed. "Jughead, how did you ever convince God to send you an angel?"

"I have no idea, Pete. I'm the luckiest man alive."

Betty's cheeks flushed crimson as Pete pointed them to refreshments and excused himself to check on the caterers. Hovering near the bar, they found Cheryl and Toni Blossom-Topaz challenging each other with cherry stems. Betty was surprised they'd made the trip from Boston, but Jughead quickly dismissed it, reminding her that her sister was making the trek and seeing the twins the following day.

Don't let her catch on now, he silently prayed.

"I've got this," Toni purred, popping the stem into her mouth.

"Hello, cousin, Jughead!" Cheryl called out, rising from her seat to embrace them. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Cheryl."

"Voila!" Toni announced, pulling the tied stem from her mouth triumphantly. "Move aside, wifey."

Toni embraced Betty and Jughead too, pulling back to study Jughead's unusually formal attire. "Damn, we couldn't even get you to wear one of these for our wedding!"

"Your wedding was on a beach in the Dominican," Jughead reminded her. "In July."

"At sunset!" Cheryl countered. "Hardly midday at the equator. But I do suppose we were on fire," she purred, leaning sideways to kiss Toni's neck.

Playfully chiding her wife, Toni nodded approvingly. "Either way, you clean up nicely, Jones."

"As have you, although I see you've still got a fondness for fuchsia."

Toni twirled around in her strapless gown, perfectly matched to her hair. "It's my trademark."

Cheryl, true to form, had chosen a slinky red dress, with a slit cut to the top of her thigh. Red remained her trademark, of course. Her wedding dress had been white with a ruby-red sash and shoes as a compromise.

"Have you seen Archie?" he asked. "He asked me to meet him when I got here."

A white lie. But he needed to grab the ring fast, before he was bogged down in well-wishers and the night's festivities.

"Um, I think I saw Big Red duck backstage a few minutes ago," Toni replied.

"Alright, I'll try there. He's probably just worrying about the new song he wanted to play tonight. Time to go give the brotherly pep talk." Planting a kiss on Betty's cheek, he paused, drinking in her beauty. "I will absolutely hurry back, so don't go anywhere."

He found Archie backstage, running through chords with Veronica in the modest green room. Veronica leapt to her feet, her burgundy dress swirling around her as she rushed to embrace him.

"Happy birthday, Romeo. Does Juliet suspect anything?"

"If she does, her poker face is ready for professional tournaments. Archie?"

"I've got it."

Archie stood up, reaching inside his jacket pocket and withdrawing a teal ring box with the Tiffany logo embossed on it. At Veronica's request, Jughead opened the box, revealing a classic Tiffany engagement ring setting, albeit with a custom twist: in lieu of the usual diamonds encrusting the platinum band, he'd commissioned alternating diamonds and emeralds to complement Betty's eyes.

"Oh, Jughead," Veronica whispered. "She's going to love it."

"I hope so." Tucking the ring inside his pocket, he began to pace. "Run me through the timing, guys. Keep me sane."

"Mingling until around nine, where Archie and I will get up and do his new song followed by the classic 'I Want You to Want Me' to set a joyful ambiance," Veronica explained. "I'll make an excuse to take a break. YOU make an excuse to need some air. You're the only two besides Pete allowed on the roof, so you'll be alone. Magic happens, you descend. I'm assuming Betty will be giddy and we'll take our cue to sing our finale."

"Okay. One hour, then." He shook himself, chanting his mental mantra of Evidence!

"Why are you still here? You have guests to greet and a beautiful woman to dance with," Veronica rebuked him gently. "We'll be out in ten."

His secret safely stowed inside his jacket pocket, he headed back out into the front of the bar, eyes scanning the crowd for Betty. He noted a few of Betty's friends from school and work, his agent and her husband, and Cheryl and Toni slowdancing to the Bruno Mars song drifting from the speakers. To his far left, he finally spotted her: his angel incarnate, seemingly haloed in light as she embraced his father and kissed his cheek. To Jughead's surprise, his father had gone all-out, wearing an actual suit and slicking his hair back neatly. Beside him stood Alice and Polly Cooper, their golden hair secured with ornate clips and similar dresses—Alice in gold, Polly in blue.

He hung back a moment, watching his father and Betty interact. Having disowned her father after his horrific crimes, Betty had wrestled with her inner demons, terrified that her darkness was an omen that she would be a killer like Hal. And while she'd moved past that fear in time, the loss of a father figure had left his girlfriend angry and, in a sense, grieving. His father's release from prison two years ago—a commuted sentence thanks to testimony from Cheryl—had led to a powerful bond forming between them. He often joked that FP liked Betty more than him, but their relationship was truly special to behold.

"Hey, Jughead! Get over here!" his father called out.

Crossing the room, he threw his arms around his father and squeezed tightly. "Just giving you a moment with your favourite," he teased.

"How very gracious. Must be the suit talking class for ya." He waved a small box around questioningly. "Gift table?"

"Give it to Pete over there. They're stashing everything in his office until we leave," Betty explained.

"Always has the answers," FP mused. "I'll be right back son."

He greeted Polly and Alice, who clung to him tightly. While she had no idea of his plans, they'd remained close after his time living with the Coopers. Despite her abrasive attitude, he'd come to learn that in high school, Alice had been a Serpent herself. He'd also learned that his suspicions about Alice and FP were bang on: the two had been a couple before Alice had begun dating Hal. In the aftermath of Hal's arrest, Alice had shed her polished veneer and embraced her Serpent past, finding strength in the solidarity of Southsiders. Their shared roots—and protectiveness of Betty—had led to surprisingly candid conversations and a penchant for sarcasm wars that exasperated Betty.

Intriguing, that FP had shown up with Alice and Polly. A part of him sensed his father had never gotten over Alice, but the two of them seemed content to remain friends.

"This place is lovely, Jughead," Alice commented. "Do you come here often?"

"Archie works here and plays shows sometimes, so we're here a couple times each week. He's singing tonight with Veronica."

"His new songs are so good, Mom," Betty gushed. "There's a label rep from Universal who keeps dropping by to see him."

"That's wonderful! Fred would be so proud. Speaking of, he gives his regrets, Jughead. That flooding in Greendale has him tied up with coordinating relief efforts," Alice explained.

Fred had recently been elected as the Mayor of Riverdale, to the joy of their inner circle. The flooding in the neighbouring town had taken a heavy toll, including serious injuries to their own Mayor. Fred, ever helpful, had stepped up to support them in crisis.

"Right, we heard about that. Everyone okay?"

Alice nodded as she plucked a glass of wine off a passing tray. "No deaths, thank God, just injuries. But everyone will recover. There's a great deal of property damage, but Fred's rallying every tradesperson he knows to assist."

Jughead grabbed wine for himself and Betty, looping his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we can swing over and help when we're home. What do you think, Betts?"

She leaned into him, sipping her wine. "That's a wonderful idea, Juggie."

The party grew in size, swelling to forty guests laughing and drinking their fill of Pete's carefully curated liquor selection. He'd even let Betty convince him to dance a few times, relishing in the excuse to run his palm along the soft skin of her back. Archie and Veronica circled by often, clearly aiming to distract him from the growing knot of tension in his guts. It was helpful, but the butterflies had long evolved into angry bears, shaking the bars of his ribcage.

He pulled her into a corner after the cake cutting, sneaking kisses along her exposed collarbone. The frosting upon her lips was only fuelling his desire to skip the party and take her home. For ten blissful minutes, he lost himself in stolen caresses and teasing kisses.

And then, Archie took the stage to perform.

It registered in his skull, a shrieking siren of warning: it was time. The plan was unfolding. Childhood fears and teenage insecurities took hold, screaming that he was living in a dream and this shining beauty was out of his league. Pulling her to him, his mouth found hers in a frenzied need to kiss, to taste one more time, just in case he was wrong about everything. Her arms folded around his neck as she pressed her hips eagerly into his.

"Juggie, people are watching," she murmured.

"I love you, Betty Cooper," he blurted out. "I love you so much."

"Hey, what's wrong?" She was visibly concerned now, studying what he presumed was a panicked face. "I'm here. Talk to me."

"I don't know."

And he truly didn't. The evidence was there, and yet here he was, not even having to pretend to panic, because his heart was skipping and his knees shaking in terror.

Betty pulled him down into a nearby booth, hugging him tightly as she whispered in his ear. "This isn't your last party. We're safe. We're together. I will never, ever leave you."

How did she know? How could she see the terror within him so plainly?

"That's it, isn't it? You're afraid of losing me?"

He nodded reluctantly, kissing her forehead. "I know it's stupid and I know it's pretty much insulting you because everything you do, everything you say, it tells me the opposite. But sometimes, I just stare at you and wonder why me? Why do you love me?"

"Because you see me, Juggie. You always have. Not the perfect student. Not the perfect daughter. Me. Darkness and light. Fear and bravery. Anger and joy. And you've always made me feel safe." Her fingers found his, clinging tightly to his hand. "You keep me honest and true to myself, instead of what anyone else wants me to be. I feel safe enough to be who I am, flaws and all, because of you."

Jesus, she was practically proposing to him, he thought ironically. This anxiety was bullshit, and he had to let it go.

"You're incredible, Betts."

Smoothing his hair back, she smiled. "Feel better?"

"I think we can rejoin the masses now," he decided, rising and extending his hand.

"Good. Because it looks like he's ready to go. And you know V will never let us hear the end of it if we're not upfront."

Arms linked, they wove their way to the front of the room, taking in Archie's newest song. Like many of his tunes, it was about a relationship, but this one was playful and coy—a far cry from the gloomy folk rock offerings of his teens. The chorus reminded him of his relationship with Betty, back when it began: "She's your daughter, misbehaviour. You don't like what you got, but you made her." It was catchy, and Veronica's vocals blended perfectly with Archie's richer timbre. The guests applauded loudly for him by the end, Archie himself surprised by their enthusiasm.

"Thank you. And now, we're going to have fun with a classic track about attraction. Let's dance!"

Archie's house band companions kicked things up a notch, delivering a rousing take on the seventies staple. Cheryl and Toni immediately took the centre of the room, dancing wildly around each other. Buoyed by the four shots well-wishers had brought him in the last hour, he grabbed Betty's hand, twirling her around. Betty giggled, leading him through every popular dance step she could recall. By the rousing outro, they'd twisted, swam and even done a sloppy tango. She fell laughing into his arms at the end, linking her hands around his waist.

"That was so much fun!" Betty gushed.

"Alright, we're going to take a ten minute break to tune up for a few more songs. Grab a bite and a drink and we'll be back!" Veronica announced, glancing sideways at Jughead.

"I could use some air after dancing in this damn suit," Jughead told her. "Let's go to the roof."

"That sounds wonderful, Jug!"

Phew. She bought that.

Grabbing two fresh glasses of wine en route, they made their way to the rear of the bar. The hired security minding the roof access smiled and stepped aside, ushering the young couple up the steps. One of the primary draws of the establishment was the rooftop seating, where delicate twinkle lights adorned a vine-covered framework. The effect was that of a starlit canopy of green—a little Garden of Eden, Pete often quipped. Although the night air was brisk, it was clear and still tonight.

Betty settled onto an ornate bench, gazing out at the city skyline. "I love this patio. It's so nice sitting out here, just high enough to drown out sidewalk chatter, but still buzzing with city sounds."

"Yeah, Pete scored a deal when he bought this building," Jughead agreed.

Ten minutes, he reminded himself. No time to fear. No hesitation. Draining his wine glass, he sat it aside.

"Can I tell you something, Betts?"

Her curls bounced gently as she turned to face him. "What is it, Jug?"

Settling onto the bench in front of her, legs straddling either side, he took her hands in his. "Do you remember the night we became this? The kiss in your room?"

Betty's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Still wow, after all these years."

"That's a relief," he quipped. "You remember how I told you I'd wanted to kiss you for five years?"

"Mmhmm. Which would have made you what, twelve?"

Jughead nodded, swallowing hard. "I wanted to tell you about that moment when I realized how I felt about you. That you were my best friend, but there was a feeling, this connection that I know now was me falling in love with you."

"Oh, Juggie…" Her hand reached out to graze his cheek. "Tell me?"

"Do you remember when Archie went to camp for a week and it was just the two of us? The summer when we were twelve?" At her nod, he continued. "There was a day when we stayed around your place, watching movies and making popcorn. You decided that wearing a hat in the summer was weird and joked about stealing it from me."

Betty's eyes widened. "Oh, I remember that! You were so upset, I felt terrible. I couldn't understand why it was so important to you, but you were so afraid of me taking it away. I felt awful for weeks about it. I…" She laughed softly, bowing her head. "I was so afraid you wouldn't be my friend anymore after that."

"You were so kind to me that day. Talking me out of the panic I was dealing with. The panic no one knew about, except my parents. You kept me steady. And in that moment, I was so mesmerized by you, by how you could calm me down when no one else could. That you always knew how to reach me. That you saw me, Betts."

He drew her hands to his lips, kissing them gently. She was studying him carefully, perhaps sensing a hidden weight within his words, but her expression was open and loving. It was so very much the woman he fell for.

"You love me because I see you, but I see you because you've let me in over the years. You trusted me with your heart, your fears, your secrets. And that trust taught me how to let people in again. To believe in them. In myself, even. I mean, look." He pointed at his head as a breeze ruffled his unruly waves. "I stopped wearing that beanie because of you. Because I can do anything if you're there beside me. You healed me."

"You healed me, too," she whispered, stretching out her palms to him.

The scarring was gone now, long faded away. She hadn't dug her nails in for years, not since the move to New York. Betty made a point now of pampering her hands, indulging in manicures and expensive lotions. Giving myself love, not pain, she'd tell him.

"There's one more thing," he murmured.

"Anything."

He reached inside his jacket pocket, falling to one knee beside her. Her surprised gasp was a small moment of victory. He'd been so determined to keep the proposal a secret, and clearly, she hadn't seen this coming. As he forced himself to look up, he was startled to see a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Elizabeth Cooper, you stomped your way into my life as a bully tore me apart and from moment one, you have protected me, cared for me, picked me up at my lowest and kept me safe. You've brought me more happiness than any one person could ever ask for. You've seen me at my worst and loved me all the same. And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life repaying you with the same love, respect and protection. Everything I am as a man, is because of you, and I would be the happiest person alive if you'd marry me."

Betty brushed aside the tears upon her cheeks, leaning towards him. "I was starting to think I'd have to ask you first."

Wait a minute. Is that…?

"Betts, I'm going to throw up on your gorgeous shoes out of anxiety here."

Grabbing his shoulder, she laughed. "I so want to marry you, Jughead Jones. That's yes, underlined, bold type, font size fifty—"

His lips crashed into hers, relief turning swiftly to jubilation. Unsteady on one knee, he buckled, pulling her to the ground on top of him. She froze, muttering something about her dress not ripping, and their mouths found each other anew. Yes, she said yes, she said yes. She said YES.

"You almost wore the beanie tonight, didn't you?" she murmured breathlessly.

"I was terrified. Even put it on for five minutes while you showered," he reluctantly admitted.

Carefully, he boosted her back to her feet before finding his own footing. They dusted each other off, picking a stray twig from Jughead's hair.

"Oh god, the ring!"

The box had fallen from his grasp when she'd tumbled on top of him. He bent down quickly to retrieve it, opening it with trepidation. While Betty had always favoured simpler pieces, he'd wanted something remarkable for their engagement. Her hand flew to her mouth as he revealed the two carat stone and its accompanying emeralds.

"Juggie, it's beautiful! How?"

"Many thanks to Pantheon Press." Plucking the band from its case, he gestured to her hand. "Let's see if Veronica was right."

"She knew?" Betty's eyes widened. "Wait a minute. You've never wanted a birthday party before and now you're… This was your plan, wasn't it?"

"I knew that my birthday would be the last day you'd expect me to propose, yes."

Her hand stretched out even as she continued to mumble about Archie and party and JB coming to visit, the pieces falling rapidly into place. Once he slid the ring onto her finger, however, she fell speechless. She tilted her hand side to side, the diamonds reflecting the twinkle lighting above her.

"This is really happening," she murmured. "You want to marry me."

His heart ached at this momentary slip, this quiet revelation that Betty's own insecurities still haunted her. She was his gravity, his sole reason for being, and still, a small, fearful voice questioned her worth. He drew her to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.

This was why they belonged together. They were two sides of a coin. Broken, but healing together.

"I have one more surprise for you," he told her. "We have to go downstairs right now."

"It's your birthday, Jug. Why am I getting the gifts?"

"You just gave me the best gift I've ever received. Let me spoil you back."

Hand in hand, they made their way downstairs, where they found Veronica pacing the corridor. Her eyes drifted immediately to Betty's left hand and she began to grin.

"You're forgiven for being tardy! Now, go! And I want all of the details later, B!"

Shy smiles exchanged, they made their way to the front of the stage, where Archie was picking up his guitar. Veronica joined him as well, microphone in hand. Archie searched the crowd for Jughead, raising his eyebrows in question. Jughead nodded, unable to hide his grin.

"Alright, we're back! As you all know, we're gathered here to celebrate the birthday of Jughead Jones."

The crowd applauded, with his father shouting, "That's my boy!"

"Now, if you know Jug, you know birthdays are usually low-key with him. So, figuring this would be the only time I'd get to do something big, I asked him to name any song in the world and I'd sing it for him. Being Jughead, he asked—hey, can I?"

Shrugging, Jughead looked to the beaming blonde beside him, who gave Archie two thumbs up.

"Being Jughead," Archie repeated, "he asked me to play a song for his fiancée, instead."

Archie paused, waiting for the crowd to catch on. Cheryl was the first to put it together, shrieking excitedly and rushing forward to embrace Betty. Polly soon followed as various cheers and applause broke out around the room. And while the attention made him squirm, Jughead was grateful it wasn't just about him.

Adjusting the guitar strap, Archie grinned. "Betty, this one is for you. Congratulations."

He'd spent weeks debating what song to choose, particularly given Archie's willingness to attempt anything he so desired. In the end, he'd settled on a song his father had played often when he was a child. Funny enough, it had been playing the first night they'd stepped foot inside this very bar.

"Shall we?"

Pulling Betty close, they began to dance, just as they had done that very night. Drunk on whiskey and giddy about living together in their own space, they'd been celebrating their freedom. Tonight, they danced in celebration of each other. Trading lines and harmonizing, Archie and Veronica began to sing.

"I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be heroes, just for one day…"

"You turned your birthday party into an engagement party," Betty deduced.

"I did." He dipped her back, grinning as she giggled in surprise. "But, I really did want to have a birthday party. You were right all those years ago. It was an experience I deserved to have. I realized that at your birthday party in June. That was also the week I started shopping for your ring."

He twirled her away from him, deftly reeling her back in. Betty's joy was infectious; it was freeing him of his usual social hang-ups.

"Do I sense a bit of making your birthday a better day in there?"

Jughead shook his head in disbelief. "There's a reason you're the Sherlock to my Watson."

Noticing a crowd forming around them, Betty rolled her eyes. "It's not the wedding, guys. Everyone dance!"

"Thank you," he whispered.

On stage, Archie laughed at Betty's demand, strumming along as Veronica continued to sing.

"'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact
Yes we're lovers, and that is that
Though nothing will keep us together
We could steal time, just for one day
We can be heroes, for ever and ever
What d'you say?"

"Are we heroes?" Betty wondered aloud.

"Some would say so. You're my hero." At Betty's protests, Jughead pressed a finger to her lips. "Look, being sentimental is not in my nature. Deal with it for a night. Besides, I was thinking more of the king and queen business when I chose it."

"Maybe you should have worn your crown, then."

"Oh don't worry, I'm wearing it to the wedding." As she burst into laughter, he frowned. "I'm dead serious, Betty Cooper."

"I'm getting a tiara, then. You're not upstaging me," she joked, flipping her hair.

"I accept these terms. Although it looks like we're both being upstaged right now."

Betty followed his gaze, smirking as Cheryl and Toni were revealing their apparent secret lives as professional dancers. Their sensual moves were raising a few adult eyebrows, but that was nothing new for the couple. Two free spirits, passionate and stubborn, they'd never shied away from expressing themselves.

"I suspect it might be deliberate," Betty mused. "Cheryl knows how you feel about being the centre of attention."

"I love Cheryl, but this isn't strictly benevolent," he snarked.

They fell into a sway, clinging to each other as Archie and Veronica delivered an admirable take on a David Bowie staple. Mindful of the parents in the room, they kept their kisses soft and sweet, although the sly way his mischievous fiancée kept bumping into his groin betrayed her post-party intentions. As the song drew to a close, the swarm began: family and friends offering their congratulations. Embraces for Betty, pats on the back for Jughead, and many requests to see the ring.

Jughead was relieved that it met with everyone's approval.

Of all of the exchanges in the next hour, the last would stay with him forever. FP Jones, a man of few words for much of his life, had hung back, allowing everyone else to step forward first. Jughead wasn't surprised; he'd gotten his loathing of attention and crowds from his father. Drawing them to a quiet corner, the grizzled biker embraced Jughead first, squeezing the air from his lungs.

"You've done good, boy. I'm so proud."

"Thanks, Dad."

The young couple were stunned by what happened next: FP Jones began to weep. Betty moved forward first, reaching for his hand.

"Mr. Jones, what is it?"

"FP," he corrected her reflexively, as he'd done for years. "Oh, Betty… You have been there for Jug since he was a scrawny, scrappy kid. I know the popular idea back when you were all little was you and Archie ending up together, but I always knew this would happen. I knew."

"You did?" Betty asked, bewildered.

"I know a little something about Cooper women. You're strong because you gotta be, but your hearts are wide open like the countryside. That big heart of his, you nurtured it, not me. Not his mom. You. And now…" FP's voice cracked as he hugged her. "Now I get to call you daughter, if you'll let me."

"I'd really like that," Betty replied hoarsely, blinking away tears.

"No more Mr. Jones," he admonished her lovingly, stepping back. "FP, or Dad. You hear me?"

Her palm pressed to her heart, Betty nodded. "Okay… Dad."

"I'm gonna go, get some rest before tomorrow. Jelly's visit and all. Congratulations, again. I love you."

"Love you too," Jughead echoed, still reeling from the exchange.

With a small wave, his father slipped away through the chattering, laughing crowd, leaving them on its fringes. Betty leaned into him with a sigh.

"You Jones men are something special," she mused.

"Yeah, I guess we are. But only because you bring it out in us."

Turning to face him, Betty toyed with the lapel of his jacket. "I know it's your birthday, but can we go home soon? I'd like to thank you for the magical evening," she purred, running her fingers down her cleavage.

His groin now in charge, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Get an Uber, now."

Her playful laughter buoyed him through the crowd, carrying them into the inky night and lighting his way home. His sun, constant and true, kept him warm well into the night.

And the noir fairytale, as my sister dubbed it, drew to its end. The childhood friends turned young lovers had found in each other the unconditional love and security that had eluded them. The criminals were caught, and peace was restored to their sleepy little town.

And while the darkness continues to pursue us, its hungry maw wide and eager for prey, we tether each other to the light we've found. In this world of death and destruction, love's the only weapon we've got sometimes. Keep it close, friends. I know I do.

- From "Sweetwater Sins: The Murders of Riverdale" by Jughead Jones

AND THEY LIVED FLUFFILY EVER AFTER. I say so.

"Damn it, A.! Now what am I going to read on this hiatus?"

I give you two options:

1) If you enjoy stories of people finding each other and healing, I write novels about complex characters sleuthing up murders. The first book in the series, Change of Season, is available on Amazon. You'll find me under my authorly name, A.C. Dillon. The ebooks are low priced because life is expensive. I think you'd love Autumn - she has some Jughead snark tendencies.

2) I'm also posting a new Bughead AU (College years) very soon! What if Betty was a good girl going bad while fronting a band? It will only be about 6-7 chapters. I'm on chapter four and it's a snarky, sexy good time. Follow me as an author so you won't miss it!

One last time: thank you. Let me know your thoughts on the Bughead ending we all deserve.