Chapter 2

"Hey," Jughead whispered. He took a step towards her, opening his arms, and Betty walked straight into them, clinging to him as the sobs she'd been fighting to control broke loose, wracking her body. She was so tired… tired of trying to be strong… tired of trying to smile when she wanted to scream... tired of trying to live up to her parents' impossible expectations… tired of feeling so relentlessly alone, no matter who she was with.

She had no idea how long it lasted, that timeless interval as she clung to Jughead and sobbed out her terror and grief in the unexpected strength of his arms. She only knew that the shelter he offered felt more necessary to her than oxygen in that moment.

At last, her sobs began to fade, leaving her calm, but still shaking with the exhaustion of aftermath. She reached up self-consciously to scrub at the tears still flowing from her swollen eyes, but Jughead caught her hand and drew her down to sit beside him on the edge of her bed.

"Better?" he asked her, and she felt a small curl of satisfaction deep inside her as he set his arm about her waist and she leaned against him, nestling into the protection of his embrace.

"No," she answered, then stopped herself. "Yes," she amended, then stopped again. Jughead said nothing, just waited. Eventually, she heaved a sigh and started again.

"I'm ok, but I'm not. I'm not hurt, or sick, or in any danger. And it feels better having you here," he smiled fleetingly as she continued. "But I'm still terrified. I just had a bad dream. And I know it's stupid – it's just a dream! It's not real. But it feels real, and it's really messing with me." She stopped again, not sure how to continue when she was sure what she was saying didn't make any sense, afraid Jughead would laugh or be disgusted with her – who called for backup because of a bad dream?

"Do you want to tell me about it?" was all he said.

"It's crazy," Betty answered. But what was really crazy was that she did… want to tell him, that is. "It doesn't even make sense, and I don't know why I'm so upset, and…" even to her own ears, her voice was rising, becoming shrill, increasing the risk of discovery by her parents. Jughead bent his head, kissing her quickly, and her voice trailed off.

"It doesn't have to make sense," he reassured her. "Just tell me."

Inexplicably calmed by his invitation, Betty drew a deep breath. She didn't want to revisit the dark visions that had plagued her sleep tonight. But she didn't want to carry them alone, either.

"It was… Polly," she began slowly, groping for words that could capture the intensity of her dream, fighting to overcome the fear that retelling it would make it more real. "I saw Polly, and it was almost time for her babies to come. She was so beautiful, and so happy…" her voice trailed off as she remembered for a moment the glow of her sister's face, the almost achingly beautiful expression of expectation.

Jughead didn't interrupt her, or prompt her. He just waited.

"And then that Blossom grandmother came," Betty continued, her voice hardening. "You remember the really creepy old lady who found us in Jason's bedroom at the memorial?" She hardly waited for his nod of confirmation before continuing. "She greeted Polly, just like she did me that afternoon. 'So lovely to see you again my dear.' And then she stabbed her, straight in the belly, with one of those spigots they use to tap maple trees. Only instead of maple sap, Polly's blood started pouring out of her, and she started to scream in pain." She paused again, lost for a moment in the horror of her sister's screams, but again, Jughead gave her the time she needed, waiting , silent and steady, for her to go on.

"And then my mom and dad came, and I thought they were going to help Polly," Betty continued at last. "But they didn't. Mom held Polly down on this table, and then she tied her down, and held her hands over Polly's mouth. And Polly was still bleeding and screaming, only I couldn't hear her screams anymore, because Mom was muffling them with her hands.

"And then my mom looked at my dad and said, 'It has to happen, Hal. She has to be stopped.' And Dad stepped forward, and he started to cut the babies out of Polly's belly." Betty was crying again now, tears pouring down her face, but instead of hesitating, the words were pouring out of her even more quickly than her tears. Suddenly, she felt she had to spill it all out, to get free from it.

"He cut the first baby out, and he turned and handed it to me, and I was so happy to think the baby was ok. But when I looked down into my arms, it wasn't a baby at all. It was Jason. His body. The way Moose and Kevin found it at the river that night… decomposing, with a bullet hole in his head. And I tried to scream, but I couldn't. And I tried to put it down, but I couldn't. And even though Polly couldn't speak through Mom's hands, she looked at me so hopefully, like she wanted me to tell her that her baby was ok.

"And before I could do anything or even think what to say if my voice came back, Dad cut the other baby out. I couldn't see it; he blocked me with his body, and he wrapped it in a blanket, and handed the bundle to that weird Blossom grandmother. And Polly was crying, because she wanted her baby. But then Cheryl came and took hold of the grandmother's wheelchair, and just wheeled her and the baby away.

"It doesn't take long to tell it," Betty concluded, drawing a shuddering breath and trying to sound matter-of-fact, "but it felt like it went on for hours, watching Mom and Dad and the Blossoms tear Polly apart." Her tears were coming faster now. "It's stupid, right?"

"Absolutely," Jughead agreed, drawing her more tightly into his embrace and planting a kiss on her hair, "if by 'stupid,' you mean 'completely chilling and likely to keep me awake at nights for the rest of my natural life.'" He kissed her again before adding, "Quit beating yourself up. You may know it was just a dream, but your amygdala doesn't, and it's pumped up your body and emotions exactly as if it really happened. That's not stupid… it's science."

"Hell," he added with a half laugh. "I'm feeling shaky just from hearing the highlights. So cut yourself some slack, Betty. It's ok to be scared."

They sat in silence a few minutes, Jughead tracing slow circles on Betty's back with his hand. Gradually, his gentle patience began to work its magic. She felt her tense muscles relaxing, her shaking quelled as she sank more deeply into his quiet support. And she felt the full weight of her fatigue – days of work and worry, and a night of profoundly unsettling dreams – pressing down upon her. She yawned deeply.

"You must be exhausted," Jughead whispered. "I'm exhausted, just from hearing about your creepy Blossom visitation. You should get some rest."

"I'm afraid to," Betty admitted. "I feel like all that… ugliness is still lurking somewhere in my mind, just waiting for me… like if I fall asleep, it will all come back." She hesitated, biting her lip. But this was Jughead, the boy who'd somehow become the person she trusted most in the world. If she couldn't be honest about what she wanted, alone with him, when could she?

"Will you stay?" she asked quietly. "I feel safe when you're with me. And I really need to feel safe right now." For just a moment, she felt Jughead stiffen beside her. The silence stretched, making her wonder if she was asking too much. She was just about to start backpedalling when he said "Of course."

Betty smoothed the covers on her bed, tangled from her restless night, and folded them down as Jughead slipped his feet out of his flip flops and turned to lie down on her bed.

It should have felt awkward. The bed was narrow, and she'd never shared it with anyone other than Polly on rare, sleepover nights in the long-ago past.

But it didn't feel awkward. Not at all, in fact. Jughead lay back, and she curled into his side, her head fitting perfectly into the hollow of his chest, just beneath his shoulder, taking comfort in the gentle movement of his breath.

Almost immediately, she felt sleep overtaking her. And it didn't feel awkward at all.

It felt like home.