Eep, this is my first Riverdale story so I'm wicked nervous. It's pretty heavy and will be for a while, but it's something super personal for me and I just have to get it out. Un-beta'd so, any and all feedback is welcome! Also, many thanks to the amazing wordsonpages for the encouragement on this piece.
The sun, which had seemingly hung on as long as it could, had finally dipped below the horizon. Its last wisps of pink and orange were swallowed by the inky night that descended. There was no moon, only the lingering twilight and flickering street lamps to illuminate her way. She chose to live close to work, in the neighborhood where she'd be making a difference; she had wanted to see its impact. And see she did. She saw the impact of something that was not confined to the borders that separated the South side from the rest of Riverdale; she saw the impact in vacant, empty stares, heard it in cries, feeling the sobs in her arms as she tried to offer comfort.
Comfort, she snorted out loud as her eyes rolled. Betty Cooper wasn't a hero, making a difference to these people; she was one wrong decision away from being persona non-grata. She turned up the sidewalk to her house. It wasn't much; the blue-painted siding was faded and chipped, the sun had bleached the roof unevenly, the small unattached garage leaned at a precarious angle, but it was hers. She managed a slight smile as she turned the key in the lock, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
Today had been a long day. The kind of day you felt in your bones. With an exhausted sigh, she pulled the door closed and upon the subsequent click, she felt her legs give from beneath her. She slid down the door, knees pulled tight to her chest as the tears began to fall in steady streams from her eyes. The scent clung to her sweater, all Baby Magic and sunshine, as his weeping mother cried in her office. Another life was gone, one second a proud and beaming father, the next; a statistic. She'd been on too many cases like this lately; had to ask too many people questions about their state of life she should never have to ask. She should never have to be called in to assess whether a child can safely return to its remaining parent. No one should have to go through what this poor girl faces, no child should grow up without…
Betty only realized what she was doing as the hot tears hit the open abrasions on her palm. She gently splayed her hands over her knees, breathing slowly and deeply as her head fell back on the door. She hated her job. No, not entirely, she supposed. Betty loved to help, she was intrinsically made for getting answers; no truth could outrun Betty Cooper. Yet more and more, there were simply no answers for what she'd been seeing. Slowly, on bone-weary legs, she stood and tried to push down the images that were seared in her mind.
Every time her eyes closed she saw a baby, the spitting image of his father, who would never hear his laughter or remember his smile -No!- she thought, her head shaking neared violent as she made sure her deadbolt was latched. She pushed away from the door with purpose, propelling her down the short hallway into her bedroom. As tired as she was, the grey sheets and yellow walls never looked less inviting. She stripped off her blazer and slacks and traded them for her favorite worn yoga pants and old Smiths tee-shirt. Throwing herself onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling, willing her eyes to close and the sleep she was so desperate for to come. But after an hour it hadn't, then another; images of bright blue eyes and wispy blonde hair haunting her. A huff of air escaped her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was way too late to go for her customary run but she'd picked up some old Tae-Bo tapes at a garage sale a few years before and they never seemed to fail her when she needed to let off some steam. The old thirteen inch Panasonic fired up as she fixed her hair into a tight ponytail and through the auto-adjust tracking, Betty got lost in the routine.
Routine it became. The lack of sleep, two a.m. Tae-Bo, the inability to separate from this case. It had been two weeks of tenuous phone calls, 'just checking in' she'd say when the weary mother would answer her phone. Betty knew it didn't help, that the platitudes of a strange woman who had the power to take your child away probably weren't conducive to grieving. Betty resigned herself the obsession, even if she didn't fully understand it. There were so many children she had dealt with and while many of their stories stayed in her heart, none of their eyes seemed to haunt as much as this ones. Tomorrow, she would call her doctor tomorrow, she decided. Stretching back against her pillows, Betty closed her eyes.
"Wake up, please…please wake up," she cried over the prone form. Her hands fisted whatever piece of clothing she could get her hands on, sobs wracking her body as she sank against the cool tiles. "You can't leave me. You promised…" The body under hers shuddered. She shot up, pulling them with her as her hand went to sweep the hair from the forehead where it was stuck in what appeared to be sweat and no small amount of vomit.
"Betty," the voice rasped. Her tears subsided, for just a second, before all she saw were the whites of eyes.
"No!" she whimpered. "NO!"
Betty woke with the word on her lips. She was practically panting she was breathing so hard. The memories she worked so hard to suppress, all she had fought and conquered, everything broadcast in live and in-living-color right in her bedroom. Reaching for the water bottle on her nightstand, the shrill ring of her phone cut through the night, the number flashing on the screen sent chills through her body.
"Betty Cooper," she answered, willing her voice past her lips.
"Miss Cooper, this is Detective Neal. I had heard you were handling the case regarding Mr. Cousins."
She swallowed thickly. "You heard correctly, Detective. I assume a call this late isn't for a clerical error."
"No, Miss Cooper. I wish I was calling you with something as banal at that, unfortunately, we're going to need you to come and remove the child."
Betty's head smacked against the headboard audibly. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
It was closer to ten minutes when she pulled up to the cute, suburban home. She may have broken a few traffic laws, but she was certain that anyone foolish enough to pull her over that night would have gotten the raw end of Betty's razor-like tongue. She was running on pure adrenaline, that's the only way she'd get through this night. To have to walk through this house, again, not knowing what she'd have to see inside. The lights of the ambulance and police cars danced through the darkened street, casting shadows in suburbia, where they've always existed and no one thought to look.
Betty's hands wrung and stretched as she made her way through the door, flashing her credentials at the officer. She wove her way through the throng of responders, focused on the cries of a three-month old little boy who needed, well, everyone who'd left him. He'd have to settle for her and the family who was taking him in.
The kitchen was a disaster. The wife apparently had used every glass in the house to allay her anger. Futile. Ineffective. Useless. The words Betty remembered so well after her own dalliance in grief echoed through her head as the physical shards of anger crunched under her feet. She could feel the darkness welling inside her as she crossed the field of broken glass. Fingernails pressed into her palms, she felt it before the skin broke this time, snapping her focus back to the present.
"Ah, Miss Cooper!" A tall man waved her up the stairs. She took a deep breath before ascending, knowing what she might face at the top. Fortunately, the coroner had been quick and all evidence to what had happened was out of sight. Small miracles. The breath fell from her lips heavy as she walked into the nursery. Bright blue eyes clouded with tears as they met hers. A sad smile formed on her lips as she reached out to try and soothe him. But there'd be nothing soothing about that night. Not that Betty could produce.
"…I don't know that he's had other charges, but he's the only open foster we've got right now. He'll have to adapt quickly to an infant, but, that's what he signed up for." She realized the older detective was speaking to her and turned her head toward him to meet his eyes. The man's eyes were weary, his back hunched by the weight of the job he carried. He ran a hand over his shorn hair and met Betty's eyes with sympathy. "We get way too many of these calls, Miss Cooper."
"Don't I know it," she agreed sadly. She looked back to the baby, and placed a hand on his belly, trying to pour all the love she could muster into the gentle touch. Before she could register what was happening, a diaper bag had been slung over her shoulder and the car seat placed at her feet. Through a haze of tears, she managed to secure the infant in his seat and get him settled into her car. She looked at the slip of paper in her hands, the address eluding her. She hated when that happened; she'd only been back in Riverdale a few months and still didn't know it as well as she should have, not for as long as she'd lived there before, not when all she used to do was ride around…she stopped, shaking the vestiges of that train of thought away, securing it away for a night her emotions weren't already overwhelming her. She plugged the address into her GPS as the sound of the Aquabats filled the air. The little boy cooed, a gurgle escaping his lips every now and again as they drove through the winding roads.
The drive to the foster house took longer than Betty expected. They ended up outside the city proper, a small dirt road leading to a cottage that overlooked the Sweetwater River. Betty took a deep breath when she got out of the car, honeysuckle enveloped her completely and knocked her senses for a loop. Her mouth opened as a ragged breath fell from her lips. She tried to bite back the tears that gathered on her waterline, she could taste the blood on her lip as she opened the car door. But try as she might to fight them, the tears cascaded down her cheeks as she went to remove the sleeping cherub from her back seat.
"So, this is where you'll be staying, little guy. I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention when Detective Neal was saying their name but they have to be a lovely family to get you." Betty ran her hand down the baby's cheek, he sighed a half smile as he nestled against her hand. She tucked the moment away, deep into her heart and rang the doorbell. "I promise I'll be back to see you, not that you know who I am but, oh sweetling, know that you're loved." Betty did not notice the door open, therefore she did not see the young man standing there taking in the scene before him. When he swallowed audibly, Betty tore her eyes from the baby and startled herself into speaking.
"I am so sorry, I didn't mean just to be standing here staring at him…I swear he was in good hands," she laughed without humor before the sound of his voice froze her in place.
"I have no doubt that he was, Betty."
Betty's head slowly rose, green eyes brimming with tears connecting with stormy blue. She wasn't sure her voice would work, but she managed to croak out a single word. "Juggie?"