Jughead hadn't been able to see her. It was family only; from experience he knew that wasn't a good sign. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper had come and gone, tears and wails from Mrs. Cooper. a stony, pained silence from Mr. Cooper. They hadn't even acknowledged Jughead as they passed him, but Jughead knew they'd seen him. Mrs. Cooper had glared in his general direction; he knew that somehow she thought he had something to do with this, but he was too worried and too tired to care.
He had been in this waiting room for hours, the florescent lights tormenting him with their flickering and the nurses with their patronizing smiles-making his stomach drop every time they entered the room in case there was news. Jughead's face was pressed against the waiting room wall, his eyes dozing every couple of minutes as he forced himself to stay awake, when finally a nurse came to him. "You can go in now. Room three." He pushed past her groggily and staggered through the halls.
Room 3
He quietly walked into the room, now wide awake and alert.
There in the bed, sleeping against stark white sheets, was Betty.
Her arm was bandaged in a heavy cast; she was asleep, but her breathing was deeper, helped by the tubes trailing out of her nose, a large bandage across it. Her face was an array of dark green and purple splotches. An IV protruded from her left arm and connected to a drip above the bed. The mechanical beeping of the heart monitor bore it's way into Jughead's brain and he slumped into a chair by the door and covered his face with his hands. A random set of images flashed in front of his eyes. The car. Too high heels. Betty's blood. Tears pooled in his eyes and he swiped them away. He had to make sure that if Betty woke up, when Betty woke up, she wasn't concerned about him- she needed to get better- and he wasn't going to hinder that.
So he stayed there. All night. He watched her sleeping, listened to the whispered conversations of her nurses, and occasionally saw a doctor. Words like "Broken" and "Trauma" reached his ears, bringing dread with them.
Finally the doctor asked him to leave. It was about one in the morning, and Jughead had stayed there not saying a word, not moving. "Why don't you go home, son." A tall doctor with graying hair and a small goatee was talking to him, Jughead glared up at him as he talked. "Get some rest. I'm afraid she'll still be here in the morning." Jughead rose slowly from his seat and looked back at Betty one more time- "That's what I'm afraid of too." he said dejectedly, and he left with the promise he'd be back.
He walked the streets of Riverdale, no destination. He eventually came to Sweetwater River; he listened to the roar of the water, deciding to sit and stay a while. The sound of rushing water drowned any thoughts from his mind- for how long he stayed there he wasn't sure, but by the time he looked up from the water, the sun was up. The sky had almost cleared from last night's rain, and smatterings of blue sky shone though the clouds. Jughead checked his phone. No messages. It was six thirty in the morning. He got up from his perch on the rock, his legs stiff from the stillness, and headed to Pop's.
"Jughead…" Said Pops when the little tinny bell above the door announced his arrival. He came around the counter and opened his arms to Jughead, who placed his head on Pop's shoulder and started to sob.
It was only for a minute or two, but he cried until he couldn't cry anymore. Pop's didn't judge, he knew what Betty was to Jughead. He coaxed Jughead to a booth in the back, away from the windows. Outside, they were clearing up the wreck from the cars. "Here, you left this last night." Pops gently placed Jughead's bag on the table, his laptop inside. "Thanks Pops." Jughead sniffed. When Pops went back into the kitchen Jughead opened the bag, pulled out his laptop and opened it. But he didn't turn it on. His tear streaked face reflected at him from the dark screen- his hair stuck out from under his hat and his eyes were red and bloodshot. He closed the computer again. He couldn't even write. Whatever had been so important last night he didn't even want to look at now. So he just stared at the wall, trying not to think. Pops came over a few minutes later holding a plate with a burger and a huge pile of fries. "I thought you might want something to eat." Jughead started at it, "Thanks Pops…but I'm really not hungry." Pops looked understanding. "I know what you mean; but you have to eat, Jughead." Jughead didn't respond, Pops sighed. "Well, if you feel like it, it's there if you want it." He patted Jughead on the shoulder and walked away. Jughead sat with his head in his hands. He stayed there as people filtered in and out of the restaurant. Suddenly a mass of black hair covered his face and tight arms wrapped around his neck. "Oh Juggy, are you okay? We just heard about Betty." Came Veronica's voice as she squeezed Jughead in a python like grip. "I'm fine Veronica." He said stiffly, his voice box groggy from disuse. " We know you're not, Jughead, you don't have to say that." "We?" he asked."Hey Jughead." Archie said from behind Veronica. "Hey Arch." They didn't say more than that, but from the look on Archie's face, Jughead saw he had had the same reaction Jughead had. "Men." Veronica rolled her eyes, sliding into the booth next to Jughead. "We're going to see Betty in a minute, Juggy. You want to come with us?" Jughead nodded. "Hey Pop." Archie called, "Can we get a box for this burger? I have a feeling he's going to want it." "Archie for gods sake. I don't want food. Honestly." Archie waved his hand at him while Pops handed him a Styrofoam takeaway box. "Don't be stupid, Jughead. You're no good to Betty starved." Archie retorted, dumping the burger and fries unceremoniously into the box.
"Come on boys. It's nearly twelve. Let's get to the hospital." Veronica pulled on Jughead's arm and he slowly slid out of the booth, pulling his bag over his shoulder.