Hello lovelies!

Firstly, sorry I have been absent lately, life is hectic at the moment and I'm struggling to catch a break...

But I am completely inspired by the past episodes, bughead and all of the wonderful work I have been reading lately. As a result I started on this. It's going to be a multi-chapter story about the aftermath of finding the killer and tying in events I think could happen and things I wish would happen or that I think fit in well.

I just wanted to remind everyone as well not to panic about Bughead! Why go through so much build up and conviction to break them apart last minute? Atm I really think the Archie realising feelings for Betty thing will happen but that won't break Bughead apart, maybe it will break Varchie though. I have a long explanation on this but I won't write it here!

Thanks for your continued support on my work, you are all amazing and I hope you enjoy this! xx

Everything was a mess.

The irony of the fact wasn't found in the fact itself- that once the murder had been solved things had exacerbated impossibly further- but rather in the naive expectation they had held that things would become simpler, when it had.

The truth was the aftermath of solving Jason's murder had been as devastatingly realistic as it possibly could be.

Logically Jughead and Betty had known it was foolish to assume the chaos they had unearthed, the secrets and lies they had encountered would be laid to rest with Jason's truths.

Realistically, they knew trust could not be rebuilt so easily in people that had deceived them so readily, they knew the ugliness they had stood steadily in front of could not be vanished and undone.

They had changed. Riverdale had changed.

But somehow, they had still allowed a small part of themselves to hope that the mystery would be wrapped up neatly with a little bow and they could progress leaving the disaster in their wake.

But they couldn't. The collateral could not be ignored.

The night they had watched the video- also known as the night the truth had been uncovered and Clifford Blossom had hung himself in the Blossom's barn amongst an empire of deceit- they had all forfeited a piece of themselves; a purity they would never get back. Their initial reaction was the expected shock and grief, followed by anguish in the ball park of torment. Simple words could not suffice. There was no collection of syllables that could possibly describe the terrifying, overwhelming sense of distress that had embedded itself in them that night. But the immediate aftermath saw them [at least some of them] remove themselves from their emotions and operate on a level of logic.

Jughead had felt an evocation of pride at Betty's quick action in calling Cheryl. Her innate ability to think of other's even in the most trying of circumstances and remain level headed even when she was clearly thrown and shaken had flared a deep rooted admiration within him. It was a sensation not unfamiliar; in fact, it was one he had felt many times over the span of their investigation and especially over the course of the 24 hours preceding the video. She was his rock, his beautiful, brave, stubborn, rock who he knew he could never abandon.

He had quickly joined in or her wit and measured thinking, stealing himself and tucking shaking hands in his pockets before standing. He crossed the room to stand before her, close but not touching. He noticed her fingers tremble as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, but her green eyes were steady and determined when they met his. Unspoken words moved between them- you okay? No. Thank you. I've got you- in a dialogue only they and their eyes knew.

"We need to go," Jughead affirmed to the rest of the group still sitting in shock. His voice was quiet but steady, careful but direct.

Archie's eyes searched his trying to decipher what his oldest friend was thinking while Veronica looked at them vacantly. Kevin seemed in less of a stupor beginning to rise to his own feet wearily.

"Should I call my dad?"

"Yeah."

"What about the rest of us? What are we… how?" Archie grasped at words, attempting to find some kind of coherence in what was happening around them.

"Go home." The blonde replied stoically, her voice was detached and Jughead knew she was just holding on, keeping a lid on her emotion until she felt safe and able to break down- he knew that feeling well.

And with that Betty tightened her pony tail before nodding in the direction of the door. Jughead moved with her nodding to the other's before exiting. Once they were in the hallway, a far enough distance from the Blue and Gold headquarters, Betty paused. Turning her body to lean on a locker she closed her eyes exhaling audibly. Jughead waited before her, scrutinising her with his eyes looking for any major signs of distress. Her eyes opened again and he could tell they were filled with moisture. Needing no further invitation he took a step toward her and Betty fell compliantly in his arms. Her hands wrapped themselves around his back under his jacket, clinging on with a grip so strong he would trust it to hold him up for the rest of his life without tiring, while he had his own arms wrapped protectively around her waist, shielding her from any demons threatening to envelope them. Betty rested her head against his chest, breathing him in and allowing a moment of grace before the chaos wrapped around them again and she had to stand steady among it. Right now she was allowed to be weak, allowed to take a moment to grieve her innocence, allowed to take a moment to feel vulnerable. What they had uncovered was a darkness never to be buried again, it was toxic and trepidation and for a second in that hall they could just be scared teenagers, who were relieved one man was innocent yet completely chilled by the revelation of a killer, the footage of a murder. There were still many things that needed to be said and forgiven but for now they just needed each other and everything else was mere white noise.

After a long drawn out moment of revelling in the comfort of each other's beating hearts and warmth, the pair broke apart. Jughead traced a hand along her cheek, bending slightly to search her eyes. His own were rimming with concern as he whispered "Okay?" delicately.

Betty offered a small watery smile, bringing her own hand up to wipe her tears before running them down his chest and taking a small step back from the embrace.

"Yeah," she replied, not entirely convincingly, but enough to placate him.

"Juggie, your dad-"She began, voice low and filled with a weary concern.

"We'll get to him. The Sheriff has to discover the truth for himself first though."

Betty held his gaze for a moment before her shoulder's deflated a little and she nodded, pony tail bouncing in a familiar way with the action, yet somehow seeming entirely different, lacking in its usual exuberance.

They set off again, making their way slowly but surely out of the halls of Riverdale High and into the night. It was a cloak of ebony, void of stars but with a slither of moon illuminating the streets dimly. It wasn't eerily quiet like one would expect in a scene from a book or movie, where the setting perfectly encapsulates the mood. Rather it was bustling with the usual traffic of a Saturday night. The sounds of tires on roads, children being scolded by parents, and teenage laughter echoed through the air, lights emanating through windows inviting a sense of normalcy. However, it was exactly this normalcy that made their trek earie. The horrors they had uncovered, the twisted plot of lies and pain was enshrined within their minds and bodies, inescapable, juxtaposed by the ignorance of the small town, two battered souls, stark amongst the flow of mundane action, yet somehow blending in all the same. Every laugh, every sound was more distinct, taunting almost. And it was this that made the pair-a seeming contrast themselves- grip each other's hands tighter.

Their destination had been implied. As crazy as her family was, she needed home right now, she needed to be with them. And he being ever the selfless one, even in his current state of mixed emotions, took her to where she needed to be.

They didn't speak as they walked. There was much that needed to be said, but this was not the time. There was nothing that could be said now. Standing before her house they paused. An odd sight it would have made, the couple standing facing the Cooper residence, not speaking, not moving, hands interlinked. The porch light cast a soft glow over them, beckoning and keeping them at bay simultaneously. Jughead felt a pang in his chest at being so close to what he was considering his home [even if temporary] for the past month. It was a place he felt safe, where he felt as if maybe just maybe he actually fit, a place where maybe he had a family. He felt foolish for hoping and trusting; two things that had most prominently led him to disappointment throughout his life.

Betty was stuck in a transit. She wanted to go inside; she wanted her house, and her room, and her bed, and her sister and her mum and her dad. But she was always afraid of taking those final steps through the door. She never quite knew what was waiting for her inside. There was love, but sometimes [a lot recently] it was so grossly tainted with ice and manipulation it made her want to throw up and run. She didn't want that tonight. She couldn't handle that tonight. But she needed to tell them.

Taking a deep breath she steeled her nerve and took a tentative step forward. Jughead squeezed her hand lightly, making a motion to drop it as he began angling his body in the opposite direction. Betty's heart seized at the thought of him being alone. Her movements halted as she gripped his hand tighter. He stopped. His dark features implored her as she delicately interlaced their fingers again, adjusting their grip and slightly tugged him toward her, her head nodding simply in the direction of the door. Her face was soft, bare and vulnerable.

"You need to be with your family." He tried to dissuade no matter how much he craved to follow the warm light inviting him into the Cooper's home; both the literal light emanating from the house and the metaphorical light of the Cooper girl herself.

"You're my family too." Betty said simply, her eyes were pleading with him and as much as a deranged part of him still wanted to deny her, to be angry and storm away, her sincerity could not be questioned, and his own inclination to hold her, be with her and support her was greater. He felt a warmth course through his veins at her words, his heart clenching in a beautifully painful way. Nodding firmly he let her pull him through the threshold.

Thankfully that night they were greeted with warmth and protection. The wrath of Hal and Alice had been effectively suppressed by the revelations of the past few days, having Polly back and the sight of Betty and Jughead entering the house looking utterly dishevelled and thrown of kilter.

They were immediately sat down and brought tea as they divulged the demons they had found. The room was still, collective shock and horror only broken by gasps and tears. There were hugs and comfort and even relief at the revelation of truth before he got the call.

The dreaded phone call that required his presence at the police station.

Jughead fixed his beanie upon his head, preparing to make his way back into the chill of the night. His heart raced as his mind filled with possibilities. Betty rose with him, offering her unwavering support.

"Stay," was all he said, quiet in her ear, his eyes flickering to the people around them.

"You need me." She replied fiercely the determination quickly shielding the exhaustion in her eyes.

"So do they." He could tell she wanted to protest more, but he was steadfast in his will and was not changing his stance. As much as he wanted her with him, he needed to battle this alone and she needed to be with her family while they remembered how to be one.

It was painful, and there were still a lot of words that had not yet passed between them, but there was trust. It was tested and frayed but it was still there. It was weathered but strong and they both needed to rely on that for now. They were strained, but they were still together, still willing to be there and still wanting to sort it out. And it was enough. They would mend. There was time for that later. But this was taking precedent.

The night was dead now. A sullen, dreary cage condemning hope and holding them capture in a day that would forever be a part of them. Jughead had spent hours at the station with the Sheriff pleading his dad's case, begging for his release to no avail. He had called Betty and informed her of Clifford Blossom's fate, and told her he would see her later.

It was later.

The lights were off in the Cooper house, giving him the okay to slink around the side. The ladder he had used to sneak up to his Juliet's room the first time he kissed her and a handful of times since was perched against the brick wall. Her room was bathed in the soft glow of her lamp and he could see her silhouette resting at the bay window. He sighed in a feeling akin of content. The weight of the world still seemed to press on his shoulders, his emotions were frayed possibly beyond repair and his faith in humanity very near severed for good, yet despite it all, despite them being on rocky ground as an entity, she still managed to bring him an unrivalled sense of calm. Through it all she was his light, his torch, his salvation. She stuck by him and even when he was frustrated with her lack of communication; it was always easier to breathe when she was around.

Shaking his head at his hopeless state, he began the climb to her bedroom. Upon reaching the window Jughead realised it had been open, a subtle gesture that meant more to him than he cared to express. A soft smile lit Betty's face as he clambered through the sill.

"Hey Romeo," she teased half-heartedly, her worn out features and sunken eyes, betraying her light tone. He offered her a genuine but small grin at the reference before settling across from her perch.

"How did it go?" He sighed at the question, shaking his head as Betty's heart sunk and she felt sick again.

"They won't release him. He may not be a murderer but according to the Sheriff and oh yeah the law he's still a criminal." He tried to keep his voice sarcastic and low, void of emotion bar frustration. He couldn't fool her though. Betty saw past his defences immediately, recognising the pain within him. She sat up straight, taking his hand in both of hers, ducking her head to find his eyes.

"Juggie," she breathed, her fingers tracing soothing patterns over his knuckles, while her tongue grappled with what to say. There was nothing she could say really. Nothing was going to make him feel better or make that statement any less of the truth no matter how either of them actually felt about FP as a person, what he had done couldn't be denied. They knew he wasn't a murderer, and that was something, but reminding him of that right now would achieve nothing. So instead she settled for the most honest response she could give.

"I've got you."

He exhaled again, long and deep, his body visibly relaxing at her words and some of the darkness extricating itself from the depths of his blue eyes and the chamber of his heart. His free hand came up to grip the fabric of her pyjama shirt where it rested on her collar bone.

"Thank you Betty, for not giving up. For everything."

"Always."

The air between them shifted from wearisome to tender as they revelled in one another's touch and the relief it brought. Although things were far from perfect in this moment, in her room they felt safe and untouchable. Bathed in the light glow of her lamp and the moon, eyes meeting in an intricate dance of understanding and empathy, they slowly began to build their sanctuary higher. Whatever was unfolding between them, this beautiful, unexpected relationship, was growing stronger, it was as if each blow only had the effect of building them up higher, making them appreciate the other more for all their demons and baggage and courage.

"I am sorry about everything that happened," she continued after a moment, knowing now was the time for the words to be spoken. Jughead nodded.

"I know you are. And I know you were trying to protect me but… I don't want to be protected Betts. I want us to be honest with each other even when it's hard to hear." The raven haired boy spoke the words with conviction but his inflection was soft and yielding assuring her they would be okay.

"Okay." Another small upturn of lips, another shuffle closer, another surge of affection, another sturdy beam added to their structure, another beat. And-

"I was going to go to Toledo. But my mum… she didn't want me to come." The admission was out there and Betty's heart broke with the raw confession. The pain was reflected from his soul into his eyes, putting on display the torture within the beautiful broken boy before her. She wanted to take that pain away, she wanted to scream at everyone who had hurt him and not stop until they understood what they were missing out on. A piece of her heart broke for herself too. For what she almost lost. He could have been gone. They could have lost this. She could have lost him. She felt nauseous at the thought. He had rapidly become the most important person in her life and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able or willing to let him go. It terrified her, but after everything she's been through, the Hitchcock blonde refused to let this be the thing that sent her running. Plus she doesn't think she's physically capable of running from his open arms.

"I want you," she whispered in the small space between them, her hands dropping his to cup his face now. Her green gaze locked steadily and heavily on his blue. Time stilled. The intensity of her words sent his head spinning. His heart was beating erratically inside his chest.

"I love you Jughead."

His breath hitched. His mind whirled. His heart soared. His chest ached, it was the kind of ache that you crave though. A burn that was raw and passionate. A fire that was all-consuming and inescapable. All he had ever wanted was to hear those words. To feel like he belonged, and there she was offering it all to him in the most divine package.

"I love you too Betty." The words were mumbled against her lips, barely giving her time to register them as he enveloped her mouth in a kiss. His chapped lips moved devastatingly over her own, starting tender and firm, and then transgressing into a different kind of passion, heavy and hot. It was love and fire. One of Jughead's hands tangled in her hair while her own remained on his cheeks. She groaned as his tongue peeked out to run the seam of her lips. She let him in, opening her mouth wider and brining her own tongue out to dance. They continued on leaning into each other, hot mouths tasting one another, alternating between playful tugs and nips on lower lips, to sinful strokes of tongues and firm pressure of lips on lips. It was as addictive as nicotine and as essential as air.

Eventually they broke away, breathing heavily.

"God I love you so much," Jughead murmured against her neck. Betty couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Carefully she extracted herself from his embrace, moving to stand before him. The blonde held out her hand to him, he grabbed it without hesitation, prepared to follow her anywhere and delicately laced their fingers together. Surely she walked them over to her bed and pulled back the covers. It wasn't the first time they had shared a bed. There had been plenty of cuddling after other activities and plenty of lounging on said bed when they caught a spare moment, but something about sharing a bed tonight in the wake of so much destruction and corrosion felt so much more intimate.

Jughead stripped himself of his shoes and jacket before climbing in. behind her. He wrapped his strong arms around her and held her to his chest.

They spent that night whispering confessions and affirming their love for each other. Then it felt like the settling tide. But now they knew it was the calm before the second storm.

Because although they had peace, their surroundings did not.