Chapter 2
"Though I've never been through hell like that, I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back…" - Carry On by Fun.
She's stunned by his words, by the fact that Clifford Blossom has a fucked-up sense of justice, by Jughead's appearance here tonight, and by the war-torn air that hangs all around him, as though it's in the marrow of his very bones. If what he is saying is correct, he's been hunted down by men for five years, at the very least.
And she admits, honestly, he looks like it. Jughead Jones is a mess; the jeans are dirty and torn, his dark grey, thermal shirt has seen better days, and his signature beanie has one or two tiny holes in it. He's too thin, he's got dark circles under his bluish grey eyes that remind her of a storm at dusk, and his shoulders droop as though he's been carrying so much weight for so long…
Seeing him, hearing the truth from his lips, makes a lead ball of grief build in her stomach and she reaches out for his hand, almost crying as he sees the movement in the reflection of the window and pulls his hand out of her reach, "What are you doing, Betty?" He asks harshly, a wild creature as his eyes turn from the window to look at her, a hardness there that she doesn't remember from tenth grade. But, of course, at that point in his life he wouldn't have been continually hunted down by a vengeful murderer.
Something about his wildness makes her straighten her spine and square her shoulders, her spine steeling with the stubbornness she uses when she knows she has to step in, "I'm going to help you, Jughead." She tells him, narrowing her eyes on him to prove he can't say a damn thing to stop her.
His mouth quirks at the edges but then he scoffs at her, "The most you'll do is get yourself hurt." He tells her, shoving the last of his burger into his mouth before digging into his pocket and tossing the change he has in his onto the table. It's not forty cents, it's thirty-eight, and he rolls his eyes at it before standing up with gritted teeth and grabbing his jacket, "Stay away from me." He says, bitterly, and in high school the words would have worked because back then she'd been in love with Archie and she didn't want to get involved with his friend. But, now Archie is miles away and a homewrecker, and Jughead's always elicited a protectiveness in her that's scared her.
Which is why she never sought him out after he'd left Riverdale for the South side. It's suddenly her biggest regret.
But, now she knows that some bit of fate was at work here, bringing him back to Pop's diner when he hadn't been here in five years. Bringing him here an hour before her shift was over, so she could help him, so she could see that he was at the end of his sanity and he needed her. He just didn't know it, yet.
He's already out the door as she sits there thinking it all over. Growling lowly, she slides out of the booth and runs after him, stopping just outside the door as he turns the key in his truck-she recognizes it as FP's 1994 F-150-and the motor turns over. Her ears pick up the problem as he attempts to start the car again and then he hits the steering wheel as the truck refuses to start for a second and third time before he gives up.
Betty keeps the smugness from her face as she strolls towards the truck and rests her folded arms on his open window. He's got his forehead pressed to his arms on the steering wheel and he ignores her for a few seconds before rolling his head to peer at her with eyes the color of twilight, eyes that spread a flush over her skin.
"Need a ride?" She asks. She can see him biting his inner cheek and he leans back and rubs his ribs, his expression dark and broody. It makes her hide a smile, remembering that same look at his face throughout middle school and high school.
But, then he says words that take her aback, causing tears to choke her throat at the low cadence of his voice, "I don't have anywhere to go." She's lucky she even caught the words, lucky the night is so quiet.
"You can't stay with any of the Serpents?" She asks, wanting with every part of her being to brush away the obsidian lock of hair from his forehead but knowing that would only anger him. He's not the same kid she knew from her childhood. He's a feral man who's been through a hell she could never understand. Her heart is breaking for him.
Jughead shakes his head slowly, "Tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak." He says, his words are still that of a boy who likes to read and write, the author he once wished to be still buried deep inside him, somewhere. He just needs a safe place to rest, a place he doesn't have to fear for his life.
Betty knows she wants to give him that place, but she's scared all the same because she can't understand where the feelings are coming from. "What happened?" She whispers, once more curling her fingers into her palm to keep from touching him and to perform her ritual move of distracting her anxiety with physical pain.
"Blossoms men caught up to me. I was with one of the younger Serpents. He tried to help and now he's in worse shape than I am. I'm a threat to the gang, too much of a liability after five years of having my back. They're sick of it. Told me to get going." He grips the steering wheel, glaring at the balled-up leather jacket beside him like it's the reason his life is fucked up, "I'm out. My own father can't risk taking me in."
Indignant anger scorches through Betty, "It's his fault in the first place!" She bites out, her righteous fury causing him to flinch back. She digs her nails in once more and then releases them and calms her breathing, "Juggie…" She pauses as his eyes close at her nickname for him, looking as though he could get used to her voice, and she feels confident she can convince him of her next words, "Come home with me."
He raises a slim, dark eyebrow, "I don't think Hal and I will make good roommates." He says, sarcastically, drumming a finger on the steering wheel, "And I won't put you in danger." He adds, not like an after-thought but so his words are firm and final.
She shakes her head, ready to fight him on this, "I live in an apartment building. Third floor, alone. Only people with a key card can get into the building and there's a guard at the front desk who makes sure no one slips in with the people who live there."
"Sounds too good to be true." Is his short reply, but she sees her words are getting to him. There's a glimmer of a sad hope as he interrogates her, "How can you afford a place like that on a waitress's salary? While going to school?" His tone is full of derision.
Betty recognizes all of his attempts to hold her at arms lengths and she's hellbent on pushing through them all, "I couldn't keep living at home, I needed my own place and the only way my dad agreed to help was by making sure I was some place safe. Come home with me, Juggie. We'll figure things out. You need to rest, you need steady meals."
He slams a hand on the dashboard, "Betty! It's not your fucking job to take care of me. I've been fine this long, I'll continue to survive."
"Surviving isn't enough, Jughead!" She yells back, "This isn't a life! Just forget your Serpent ego for one damn second and accept this offer. You deserve more than what's been dealt to you."
The dark-haired man is grinding his teeth, conflicting emotions flickering across his face as he glares out the windshield. Finally, his shoulders sag and he rubs his eyes, "I'm tired, Betts."
She melts at the nickname only he's ever called her and she's opening his door, helping him out of the truck and he follows with heavy footfalls, allowing her to get him into the passenger seat of her old Buick. Instructing him to wait there, she goes back into the diner to tell Pop that his truck will be in the parking lot until she can get back and fix it, and then she goes back outside, and pops the hood of the F-150. It takes only a few minutes to get out the starter and she puts it on the back floor of her car before she pulls out of the parking lot and heads home. Her passenger is quiet while she drives, his face impassive and his eyes half-closed.
Betty lets him have his silence, aware that Jughead Jones has never been one to talk excessively and she knows she's overturning his world right now. But, her gut is telling her to do this because she's already turned her back on him once without really meaning to and he doesn't have anyone else. Which brings a question to mind that she's asking before she can remind herself that's she's supposed to be giving him his peace and quiet, "All that stuff about a Serpent who can fix you up, that was what? A lie to get me off your back?"
He shrugged before sighing, "It's not really a lie. I never said I was going to see him."
Glancing at him, she furrows her brow and turns back to the road. Jughead was never a dishonest boy, but now he seems to hedge around the truth. It makes her slightly nervous about what else he could be omitting. She notices he keeps checking behind them, his paranoia becoming infectious as she asks, "Do you think we're being followed?"
"No. It's usually a few days before his hired men find me again. It's just a habit." He pulls his beanie off and rakes a hand through his hair before replacing it. She decides she wants to fix those holes when he's asleep and she'll have to go food shopping because he's skipped too many meals. As if he can read her mind, he mumbles, "I'm not a puppy you just brought home, quit thinking of all the things I need."
His dry words and his ability to read her makes her laugh and she glances over to catch a small smile playing on his lips as he leans his head against the seat. She feels more content in his company than she has in a long time.
When she turns into the parking lot of her apartment building, her nerves are on high alert for men out to get them, Jughead's assurances that it will be a few days doing little to pacify her when this is all so new to her. She shuts off the car and quickly gets out so she can help Jughead out of his seat but he's alert once more and is out of the car and meeting her by the taillights, removing his hat in a swift move and shoving it into his back pocket.
She watches the action curiously but doesn't question him as she turns and leads him to the entrance, scanning her card and going up to Jared, the security guard, "Hi, Jared. Can I sign in my guest?"
Jared's probably close to thirty and he's always hinted that he'd be up for a date with her, but Betty hasn't found herself interested in many guys since Archie ran off with her mother. First their music teacher and then her mother, the thought of Archie's obvious mommy-issues rolls her stomach and makes almost any man she's met since her parents' divorce unappealing.
Jared hands her the forms she needs and she shoots a side glance at Jughead as she scribbles down an alias for him and signs the last paper so he has permission to come and go. He's looking around at the security cameras and the exits, taking in each one with a detailed eye that makes her ache for him.
Almost every man unappealing. Even in his roughed-up state, Jughead holds himself with a silent, demanding presence that calls to every womanly part of her. She'd even briefly imagined straddling a healed, better-fed version of him right there in Pop's diner. The reminder of that thought sends blood rushing up her cheeks and she thanks Jared before leading Jughead over to the elevator.
They step in and she presses the button for the third floor as she feels his gaze on her. "Are you sure about this?" He asks, a note of vulnerability buried in his words.
"Yes, Juggie." She meets his eyes to show she means it and she can tell he's biting his cheek again. She wants to reach out and touch him, but he's so skittish that she doesn't dare attempt it again. Truthfully, she isn't entirely sure how they are going to fix things, but there had to be something. Five years of being continually chased after by Clifford Blossoms' men was too long. It infuriated her that FP hadn't tried everything to protect him and she doesn't understand why he'd cut him off now, like this. It just doesn't make sense to her.
He follows her as she steps out of the elevator and heads down the hallway, close to her elbow despite the fact that he doesn't like being touched. His eyes are scanning the door numbers, his ears picking up the few noises that can be heard this late at night, and his shoulders are high and tight to his ears. For a moment, she wishes she'd gone to school for Psychology, so she can understand him instead of the cars she's learning to fix now.
"Here we are." She breathes, quietly, as she unlocks the three locks on her door and swings it open, reaching in to flick on the main light so that Jughead knows it's safe to enter.
The way he hesitantly steps in, eyes searching each corner as he opens the closet doors and checks behind the curtains, speaks volumes of the kind of life he's lived. Now that she thinks about it, he chose the one booth in the restaurant that no one could sneak up behind, not to mention it had the perfect view of both the front door and the kitchens.
The serpents all drove motorcycles…except for Jughead. The metal of his father's truck more protection than a motorcycle would have and her question is out before she can stop it, "Did you ever drive a motorcycle with the Serpents?"
He stops at her question, his eyes turning on her swiftly as though he can read the direction of her thoughts, "Only once." He tells her, the two ominous words hanging in the stillness of her apartment. He does not need to say anymore, she shuts her door and locks every lock, sliding the chain on for extra security.
She glances around, seeing her apartment with new eyes as she judges how best to protect him. "My room doesn't have a window, you'll stay in there."
His eyes cut to hers, hardening like glass as he glares, "No. You keep your room. If they manage to get through the third-floor window, let them kill me and lock your door." She opens her mouth to argue and he snaps, "It's non-negotiable, Elizabeth!"
Betty steps back as though she's been hit, but Jughead turns from her and strides to the window, making sure it's locked and that the curtains are drawn tightly, "I should have told you to sign me in with a different name." He mutters, pacing around in her tiny one-bedroom like there's more ways inside.
She chuckles dryly, though it's hard to find humor when he's so keyed up. "I signed you in as Kevin Keller."
He turns to her at her words, his entire body suddenly relaxing and he's looking at her with soft eyes as he tells her, so sincerely she's stunned, "Thank you." The words are out and then he's collapsing onto her sofa, exhaustion finally taking over and shutting him down.
She wonders how long it's been since he's felt safe enough to sleep and then she gets to work patching him up.
