Every Day Is Like A Battle → Reggie Mantle

If It Hadn't Been What It Was

Disclaimer- hopefully this goes without saying, but I don't own anything except for my ideas

Chapter title is from Dare Me by Megan Abbott, story title is from New Romantics by Taylor Swift

(For anyone interested, Fallon's face claim is Brenna D'Amico)

Fallon Parris Jones, FP to her friends, was taken to Toledo against her will when her parents separated. She would have stayed, for Jellybean, except her dad called her and told her that her twin had just been hauled in and questioned for murder. Fallon may play at obedience, but her twin's wellbeing is always the most important thing in the world, so she hops on her bike, headed to Riverdale with no intention of leaving him ever again. It isn't until she arrives that she finds out just how deep her family is in this mess, and clearly no one else can be counted on to fix everything. Armed with nothing but her well-worn Serpent jacket, a switchblade, and an unstoppable determination to protect her brother, Riverdale is about to find out that they messed with the wrong family.

Every Day Is Like A Battle

If It Hadn't Been What It Was

Fallon Parris Jones was, as usual, sitting on her bed with her beloved guitar and trusty notebook. She hated Toledo, and everything about it, but that didn't mean that she was going to give up on music or writing. She was in the middle of writing out her newest tabs when her phone went off, interrupting her focus.

'Me and some guys from school had a band and we tried real hard,' Bryan Adams sang, and Fallon, recognizing the ringtone, rushed to grab her phone off of her desk.

"Hey dad! Is everything okay?"

Fallon knew that FP Jones never called. It was a fact of life, her dad only ever used the phone in emergencies, and Fallon had a bad feeling.

"Hey Fallie," FP said softly, "it's Jughead."

Fallon tensed at the mention of her twin, her best friend, her soulmate.

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling her shoulders tense as a hundred different scenarios rushed through her head.

"Keller hauled him into the station today, interrogated him about the Jason Blossom murder. He's way more shaken up then he's letting on."

"I'm in Toledo, dad," Fallon reminded him.

"He's staying with Freddie Andrews, there's nothing I can do to help," FP told him.

"I'll handle it dad," Fallon promised, "somehow."

"I know you will, Fallie."

"But dad? Drink some water, have a nap and a shower, and please, try to stay on the wagon at least until I can fix everything?"

"I will," he said, "I will."

"I love you, dad."

"I love you too," FP said softly, before ending the call—they never said goodbye, any of them, it was too permanent.

As soon as she heard the dial tone, Fallon snapped into action. She plugged her phone into its charger and did the same to her laptop—an old bulky machine that she'd rescued from a dump and fixed up—before wrapping her thick black curls into a loose knot at the base of her skull and grabbing her duffle bag from under her bed.

Packing all of her clothes was an easy job, as was packing her very limited shoe collection, her minimal toiletries and makeup, and the various odds and ends that she would hate to leave. They were small things: picture frames, posters, knives, and her handmade recipe book, but nothing that she was willing to part with. The only things she left out were her trusty combat boots and her oversized Serpent jacket—it had been her dad's, once, and it was customary for the King to pass on his original jacket to his heir, making it Fallon's most prized possession.