A/N: This fic alludes to past events that are undermined and contradicted by things from Season 2 of Riverdale. This story operates separately from the "Black Hood" story line and really just relies on the general premise of Riverdale in terms of location, characters, and general plot. Assume everything from Season 1 happened in this fic, but nothing from Season 2 unless specified. Enjoy!

Betty straightened a strategically-placed stack of magazines on the coffee table and went to the mirror by the front door, beneath which her keys and a few scarves were hanging. It was the end of a long day in a long week, most of which she'd spent in the newspaper office working on a story rather than at home sleeping, which was starting to show in the dark circles under her eyes and her limp hair. She studied her haggard face in the mirror and pinched some color into her cheeks, sighing at the dismal results before applying a thin coating of pink gloss to her lips. She'd been wearing her hair short since undergrad, cut into an angled lob that was short at the base of her neck and swung forward over her shoulders, framing her face in sleek, sophisticated blonde waves. She nervously smoothed her hands over it and straightened the thin silver chain around her neck.

She was always anxious before they came and exhausted when they left. It had been two months since her last meeting with the cast and crew of the show being made of Jughead's book, but they'd left off interviewing Betty about a particularly low point in her life: the events surrounding Jughead's joining of the Serpents and their subsequent breakup.

Jughead's novel—a fictional rewrite of the events surrounding Jason Blossom's murder and the resulting fallout—had been a New York Times Bestseller, and he'd since written three more unrelated novels that had also done astoundingly well. Betty had not been surprised. She had always known Jughead was an excellent writer. It was only within the last two years that a television network had picked up the rights to his novel, Riverdale, and began pre-production.

At first, Betty hadn't wanted to participate in the project. News of Jughead's success was already splattered everywhere she looked like grease that wouldn't wash out, and it made her feel sick. But Archie had stopped by her apartment one day—sans Veronica for once—and made a plea on Jughead's behalf.

"Don't you think this will bring some kind of closure?" he'd asked. "We're all committed to the project, Betty. You're the only major player they're waiting on. And besides, it pays really well. I'm sure you could use the money." He had tried to keep his eyes from flitting around her shabby apartment, but she'd caught it anyway.

Betty taught journalism classes while pursuing her Master's degree at a small, private college in upstate New York. It was the same university she'd attended as an undergraduate, and though she felt a bit like she was stagnating there, when they'd offered her an assistantship and she had no other viable options, she chose to look at it as a positive, character-building experience. So far, she'd avoided sleeping with any of her students and had done a complete overhaul of the campus newspaper, so she felt she'd been met with success.

She could hear their voices coming up the stairs and she dashed away from the door so it wouldn't seem like she was hovering there waiting for them. When someone knocked, she took her time to answer, scanning the room to be sure everything was as chic and tidy as possible. She'd made them sign an agreement not to share anything about her interviews with Jughead, but if something happened to slip out about her apartment, she wanted him to know that she was doing just fine.

The creator, writer, and director, Alfonso, was in the hallway, as were the four young actors that usually came, those who were playing her and Jughead, and Archie and Veronica.

"Hey, Betts," Adam greeted her, grinning, kissing her on the forehead and pushing his way into the room. He wasn't what Betty would call a method actor, but he treated her with more familiarity than the others did. Playing her ex-boyfriend, even in a fictional capacity, seemed to have emboldened him.

"Hi, Adam," she smiled brightly and shook her head, then greeted Danny, the actor who was playing Archie.

"Betty, how are you," bubbled Emily, who was playing Veronica. "You look so cute, I love that skirt!" She flicked her dark hair out of her eyes and strutted into the apartment. She was very well-cast.

"Hi, Kate," Betty smiled at the girl playing her, still jarred by their similar features and by the concept that an actress was going to portray her in a TV show. Kate patted her arm warmly but was more subdued that Emily.

"I saw an Italian place across the street on our way in," Alfonso was saying from behind her. "Is it any good?"

"It's alright," Betty answered. "If you have the time, there's a better place about 20 minutes from here. I'll give you directions before you go."

"We got a hotel room this time," he answered as he took his place in one of the two recliners Betty had once saved from a curb-side trash heap. "So we have all the time in the world. We didn't want to rush this interview," he added, winking at her. Her stomach dropped. She'd been hoping he'd forgotten where they'd left off, even though she knew he took copious notes. Kate, Emily, Danny, and Adam squeezed onto the couch, leaving the last remaining recliner for Betty. Kate pulled out her phone to take notes like she sometimes did. Adam was leaned forward with his hands falling loosely between his knees, studying Betty. She could feel his eyes on her face. Not knowing what else to do, she met his gaze and smiled.

"We just left Jughead this morning to come here," he said. Everyone else in room started and looked at him all at once. Betty felt herself stiffen.

"Oh. And how is he?"

"He's alright. I think he's lonely."

Emily, who was sitting directly next to him, elbowed him hard in the side, her eyes boring into his. He didn't respond.

"That must be hard for him," Betty answered tightly. She looked to Alfonso. "You want to get started?" she asked.

"Sure, if you're ready. I understand tonight may be difficult for you. Know that our agreement still stands—we won't reveal any of what you say to Jughead without your permission. And you get to see the final script. We can take a break whenever you need to. Alright?"

She nodded.

"We ready?" he asked the foursome seated on the couch.

"And rearing," Adam confirmed. The other three offered their consent as well, if not somewhat less enthusiastically. Alfonso shot a look at Adam and then turned back to Betty.

"When we left off, it was discussing Jughead joining the Southside Serpents. It was your junior year of high school and he'd just transferred to Southside High. You said the change came over him almost instantly."

Betty sighed and settled against the back of her chair, crossing her legs at the ankles and holding her hands together tightly in her lap. It was something she did to keep from digging her nails into her palms.

"I don't know about that exactly," she said. "I mean, the Serpents came by FP's trailer and gave him the jacket, but he didn't start wearing it right away. It took him about a month to get sucked in."

"Sucked in, that's an interesting choice of words. What do you mean by that?"

"He didn't even want to be in a gang, Jughead's not like that. But he was so vulnerable after FP got arrested and I think he felt really alone. And he felt like they needed him. He saw the hole where FP used to be and felt like it was his job to fill it."

"Did you know he was considering joining the Serpents?"

It was getting darker outside and Betty had all the lights on in the living room, including the floor lamp and the two table-top lamps on either end of the couch. Lighting up the room made her feel less threatened, hard as it was to talk about the days when her life had quite literally been in danger at every turn. She thought about her life now, running the school newspaper and socializing with the other regular, boring graduate students. Even though she hadn't given up hard-hitting investigative journalism, no story had come close to getting her into the kind of danger she'd seen every day in Riverdale.

"I didn't know anything." She answered finally. "Jughead kept trying to tell me that everything was fine when he transferred schools and that nothing would change, but I went from seeing him every day to seeing him once a week at best, usually once every couple of weeks. And when I did see him I could tell there were things going on that he wasn't telling me about."

"Like what?"

"Just things at school. He got jumped in his first few weeks and told me he'd wrecked his bike. He didn't want me to know. I guess he didn't want me to worry."

"That was Toni's idea, wasn't it?" Alfonso asked, looking down at the legal pad in his lap and flipping back a few pages to what must have been notes from Jughead's interview. Betty would have loved to get a look at those notes. She shoved that thought out of her head.

"Sorry, what?"

"Toni Topaz. She encouraged Jughead to keep things from you, didn't she?"

Betty chewed on the corner of her lip. She was aware of all the eyes in the room being intent on her face.

"Maybe. I don't know what they talked about."

"'They' being Toni and Jughead."

"Yes."

"Do you blame Toni for corrupting him?"

"Jesus, Alfonso," Adam interrupted, "what the hell kind of line of questioning is that?"

"It's okay," Betty said hotly, but Alfonso apologized and there was a brief pause while he read back through whatever he'd been writing since they'd begun.

"Betty," Adam said, "why don't you just talk a little bit about that time, would that work? Then," he added, turning to Alfonso who was starting to object, "we can ask any question we have about the specifics."

"Sure," Alfonso said begrudgingly. "If you'd feel more comfortable we can do it that way."

"Okay," Betty agreed, taking a deep breath. "That sounds okay." She looked down into her lap and plucked idly at a thread loosening in the seam of her skirt.

"For the record, I don't blame Toni for corrupting Jughead. He'd been on his own for a long time and was capable of making his own decisions. I think she encouraged him to join the Serpents. I think she gave him the validation he needed to go through with a decision he was already considering."

"What about the Serpents do you think appealed to Jughead?" Alfonso asked.

Betty thought for a moment. "I guess the sense of family. Juggie never really had that. The thought that he could be part of this group of people who were always looking out for each other no matter what probably really appealed to him. But more than that I think he felt an obligation to join. That's the thing about Jughead—he's such a martyr. He has no idea how to take care of himself or how to let himself be happy. When given the choice between being happy and suffering, he will always punish himself."

"That's interesting," Adam interrupted, leaning forward toward her again. "Why do you think that is?"

"Because of who he is, how he grew up. He just got used to taking care of everyone else and never stopped. Just look at his relationship with his dad."

Adam nodded and Alfonso went on scribbling on his legal pad. Kate tapped something into her phone. Emily was filing her nails. Danny had his arms stretched across the back of the couch and his head leaned back toward the ceiling, but he appeared to be listening.

"The thing about Jughead," Betty said carefully, "is that he will do anything for anyone. He wants to take care of everyone, which is impossible, and he doesn't mind sacrificing himself to do it. And you think that means that he'll take care of you, but he'll sacrifice you too, if he needs to. It's just who he is."

"Did he sacrifice you?" Kate asked.

Betty shrugged and didn't answer. She picked at a hangnail.

"So what do you think it was that caused Jughead to sleep with Toni when the two of you were still together?" Adam asked. The entire room turned to look at him again.

Betty felt her mouth slip open but she clamped it shut again. She hadn't ever known for sure the extent of what had happened between Toni and Jughead. The room was quiet.

"How long had you two been dating when that happened?" Alfonso said finally, seemingly confirming what Adam had said. Betty gritted her teeth.

"8 months."

"And what did you do when you found out?"

"I didn't know for sure that they had slept together until just now."

Kate reached out and touched the arm of the chair she was sitting in but didn't touch Betty. She tilted her head apologetically.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Betty," Adam said sincerely, stretching out to lay his hand over hers. She resisted the urge to yank herself away. "I thought you knew."

"It's alright."

"Do we need a break?" Alfonso asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay," Alfonso said gently, uncertainly. "So you knew something had happened between Toni and Jughead but not what exactly."

"That's right."

"And you knew that Jughead had officially joined the Serpents."

"Yes."

"Which thing was it, do you think, that really pushed it over the edge for you? What happened the night you broke up?"

Betty had already texted Jughead five or six times that day with no reply, and she felt a tension about it that she couldn't really put her finger on. After dinner, as soon as she could, she'd borrowed her mom's car without asking and driven across town, over the tracks, through the Southside to FP's trailer. She felt anxious the whole drive over and kept checking her phone to see if he'd answered her, but she didn't really know what she was expecting to find. When she pulled up next to the trailer and saw a familiar bike parked next to Jughead's, she'd frozen in horror.

Betty hesitated in the car just long enough for the trailer door to open, revealing Toni Topaz with her back to the dark night, straining up on her boot-clad toes to reach Jughead's lips. But he'd already seen Betty in the car over Toni's head and he pushed her away quickly, lowering an ice pack from his forehead and stepping out onto the porch in his jeans and undershirt. Betty had never seen him actually look scared. Usually he hid it so well with a scowl. Toni swiveled on one foot and locked eyes with Betty. Her mouth set into a hard line and she crossed her arms over her chest and glared. Betty yanked the keys out of the ignition and slammed the car door.

"What the hell is this, Juggie?" she demanded, stomping up the frail wooden steps.

"This isn't really a good time, sweetheart," Toni said icily. "I think you should go."

"Oh, you think I should go? Really? Me? I'm his girlfriend, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Hey," Jughead said, stepping in between them. "Come on, don't do this."

"Don't do what?" Betty shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

"I think you know, bitch," Toni snapped back, pushing past Jughead to get in her face. Jughead grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back, dipping his head down to block her view of Betty.

"Not now, Toni," he muttered softly, in a way that hurt Betty more than anything that had happened so far. "Please just leave. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Please."

Toni glared again at Betty and shoved past her. She'd rattled off on her bike by the time Betty was in the trailer with the door closed.

She took in the person standing in front of her. Jughead's face was so bruised and swollen it was almost unrecognizable. His dark bangs swooped down over a black eye and there was a line of cuts on his cheek bone. She could see bruises over his collarbone and leading down past the neckline of his undershirt. His right shoulder was also red and puffy, wrapped in plastic wrap. Through the clear cover, she saw a snake coiling against his arm in black ink. Betty gasped and took a step back toward the door.

"Betty," Jughead said softly. But it was like he knew it was too late. He didn't make any move toward her.

"What did you do." she whispered.

"You know what I did." He answered.

"And her?" she asked. She felt a hot tear sliding down her cheek and wiped it away angrily.

Jughead didn't say anything.

"What about me?"

Again, he didn't answer. Betty choked back a sob and dropped her head, shaking it from side to side.

"How could you do this?"

"I'm sorry," he said, but his voice was hard and unrepentant. "I didn't want you to find out this way."

"Find out which part?" she demanded. "About the Serpents or about her?"

"Both," he answered simply.

"You know, don't you," she said, growing angry again, stepping back until she felt the door behind her, shaking her rage-filled head at him. "What this means. What it means for us. You knew when you did it."

He was silent again. He glared at her. Betty's clutched uselessly at the sleeves of her jacket which were reaching down into her palms. She wretched open the door behind her and ran back to her mother's car.

Two days later, on an unseasonably warm day when she'd left her window open during the afternoon, she returned to her bedroom to find the things she'd left at Jughead's lined up in the middle of the bed. A rain jacket. A pale yellow hair band. Three bobby pins. One gray wool sock. A notebook full of stories they'd worked on together for the Blue and Gold. She'd thrown it all away.

They graduated from different schools. They moved to different parts of the state. They hadn't spoken in six years.