- Chapter Three -
Sometimes we need
To be completely removed
To comprehend what we truly can miss
That being said, I can't begin to pretend
My heart does not pine for you
May there be a peaceful road ahead of you tonight
May there be still waters
Here my ship lies to take you where you can rest your head
I will not watch you die
Cooper Residence 36 Hours
Ding.
Toni [6:30 am]: No changes to report yet. I'll keep you posted if anything happens.
Ding.
Veronica [8:12 am]: You okay? Everyone is asking about you. Do you need anything?
Ding.
Cheryl [8:30 am]: When was the last time you ate? Can I bring you something?
Ding.
Sweet Pea [9:14 am]: We found her. We found Penny. Rounding up some serpents now.
Ding.
Archie [9:44 am]: Meet me at the hospital cafeteria? Coffee?
Betty's fingers hover over the keyboard on her phone, but type out nothing.
She cannot find the will to respond. There have been about 15 other texts from the rest of them, a few faint knocks on the door over the last few hours from her mom who has tried - and failed - to get Betty to eat something.
She rolls over into her pillows, wanting to hide away from the world forever. It still doesn't feel real. She had prayed during those agonizing hours in the dark what this was all just a nightmare. She squeezes her eyes shut and prays to disappear, only to come back when all of this is over.
Her prayers are not granted, however, when Alice enters the bedroom. Slowly, she peeks her head in, and sees that Betty is awake amongst her pillows and blankets. She holds a folded stack of clothes in her hand.
"Hi sweetie," she greets, approaching slowly as one would approach an injured wild animal. Betty can't say she blames her - she's done her fair share of lashing out since this all happened. "I just got off the phone with FP," Alice tells her, and Betty slowly sits up.
Her heart leaps into her throat as she waits what comes next. She fears for the worst.
"He's still in ICU. They've had to keep him in a medically induced coma until the bleeding on his brain lessens…"
"And if it doesn't?" Betty croaks.
"If it doesn't… they'll need to go in surgically to take some of the pressure off his brain."
"So… they still have no idea if he's going to be okay?" Betty says with a sob in her voice. She chokes it down. It burns.
"No, I'm sorry Betty."
Betty takes it in. Processes it. Files it away in the back of her mind in a folder labeled "open later."
Pandora's box.
"And dad?" Betty dares. Alice just freezes up for a moment, her mouth agape. Then, she shakes her head.
"No, honey. I don't have an update on him."
Betty wishes she didn't care, and she regrets even asking. Her father terrorized this town - terrorized her. He doesn't deserve her grief.
"Here are some clothes," Alice says, moving the folded pile from her lap to the end of the bed. "Come down when you're done. We can talk more."
Betty almost can't bring herself to finally step into the shower - but it's already been over 36 hours and she can't avoid it any longer.
Her heart thumps hard in her chest as she strips herself down, piece by piece, too afraid to look in the mirror because she is terrified of what she might see.
A reflection of her father?
'Don't think about it,' she tells herself. 'You're safe now.'
She knows it isn't true… there's still another Black Hood out there. But she can't bring herself to care about much of anything… not while Jughead was still being kept alive by tubes and wires.
She wishes she could just get her mind to stop racing. She can't stop picturing the horror she saw, FP carrying him out of those woods. When she lets herself think about she flushes with rage.
Rage that someone would do such a thing to the person she loves more than anything. He was beaten senseless and then left for dead.
Like he was garbage.
Like he was nothing.
She tries not to think about how terrified he must have been. Tries not to imagine that he called for her, that he needed her.
And she wasn't there.
There's a sense of relief as she listens to the sound of the running water - it drowns out the loud silence. Makes her feel safe. Being alone now feels less alone than surrounded by her friends.
Steam fogs the bathroom and water rolls down her skin - dirt and blood and sweat clouds the water that pools at her feet. It almost makes her sad to see the traces of that night circle around the drain and disappear altogether.
When she steps out of the shower, it's almost as though it never happened - if only forgetting were so easy.
She foregoes the clean clothes set out by her mother and opts for Jughead's flannel and pair of jeans, instead.
It makes her feel better and worse at the same time.
She's scared she'll never be able to take it off.
Ding.
Archie [11:11 am]: Betty. Please.
Ding.
Archie [11:11 am]: Say something.
Jughead Jones
Jughead is pulled back through the tunnel and through that light again, only this time when he steps out of it, he's not in Betty Cooper's bedroom.
Jughead stands in the darkness of his father's trailer, and he can still see her. She's standing a few feet away from him - she's right there - and it's never felt farther away.
"Until he gets out, I'm not giving up on him, Jug."
He feels the corners of his mouth pull to a smile.
Oh, god, does he remember this night. The nerves in his stomach as he contemplated if he had to courage to tell her what he'd been longing to tell her for so long… the fear that she might not say it back.
"Hell no," he mumbles, the words running together like wet paint. He tugs his hat off and tosses it aside, "and that is why I love you, Betty."
He watches her shoulders tense and he'd never been so scared in his life. She turns around, to face him, her eyes wide and glossy and full of emotion.
"I love you, Betty Cooper," his voice is so soft, just like his heart at this very moment. She brings out the best in him - the parts of him that he'd always wished he could be.
She smiles, and everything good inside of her shines through. She steps toward him slowly, and even though he's terrified, he's never felt safer in his entire life.
Especially when she gently tells him, "Jughead Jones… I love you."
She means it, of this he is sure.
He's never been so certain of anything in his life.
Especially as she lightly huffs out a giggle, her smile broadening. She grins into his lips and kisses him, her hand coming up to softly cup his cheek.
He remembers this.
Oh, God does he remember this.
And he's suddenly so vastly aware that this is what he is fighting for, what he needs to come home for. Their lives are just beginning. This wasn't supposed to be how their story ended.
He lifts her up and she squeals excitedly, and he can't remember a time when he was this happy.
No Serpents. No Black Hoods. No Hiram Lodge or Penny Peabody.
Just two teenagers, young and in love and promising each other the world because they felt like it was theirs to give.
He whirls her around and her back slams against the kitchen cabinets. He almost stops to apologize, but she gives him no indication that it hurt her. As his lips hungrily find her neck, her hands roam his body. This could have been their night. And while he doesn't regret the way it ended up happening for them later, this was the night that changed everything.
He remembers the knock before it comes, but it doesn't make it any less startling.
"Oh my God," she gasps, and he can feel her heartbeat thumping from where he's standing. He can feel it because his beats back just as hard.
"Is that your mom?" he asks, but of course he knows it's not.
"Who else would it be?"
Jughead begins to pull from her, but is surprised when she pulls back.
This… this is different.
This isn't how it happened before.
"Jug," she breathes, her voice a beg. She's breathing heavily, and she almost looks terrified.
"What's wrong?"
"What if this time… you don't open the door," she says, almost a whisper. She stares deeply into his eyes. Her hands come up to brush the sides of his face, lovingly. Pleadingly. Her voice cracks in half as she says, "What if this time… you stay."
Another knock comes, angrier than before.
More demanding.
"Please," she says. Jughead swallows. Nods. He would do anything she asked of him, just so long as he could keep her. She pulls him closer, scooching herself down to the edge of the counter where their bodies connect. She kisses him, her lips brushing fleetingly against his.
"Come back to me, Juggie," she says into his lips. Her breath is hot and smells just like he remembers.
Home.
"I will," he promises.
Her eyes open slowly, "You have to wake up."
Hospital Cafeteria - 38 Hours
"You're only as alone as you want to be, Betty."
Archie states this as though it is a fact and not an opinion.
"You can talk to me. Really. I'm here for you. We all are."
Betty's grip tightens around the hot coffee mug in her hand, the padding of her fingers turning white. It burns her palms but she's relieved to feel something. It takes everything out of her not to scream and throw it across the room.
She wants to thrash and cry and unleash.
No one knew just how much he meant to her. That's impossible - even she can't fathom the depths of her love for him.
She somehow smiles, although without teeth. It's tight and fake and strained but it seems to appease him.
"Noted. Thanks, Arch." He leans forward, his arms creeping across the table and his hand resting atop hers.
"We're all here for you. And we're gonna get through this. Together."
He sounds so sure. She appreciates his earnestness.
She lifts the cup of coffee to her lips to free herself of his comforting hand. She doesn't want to be touched. She mutters another thank you but wishes she never agreed to see him. She knows he's just trying to help, but it stings too much. Every single person she's around now is just a reminder that it's not him. That it may never be him.
Betty traces her fingers across the knotty, wooden table of the cafe, wishing Archie would stop staring at her with so much sympathy.
Poor, poor Betty. All alone. Her daddy is a murderer, her boyfriend is clinging to life.
She bets he expects her to cry.
"I'm scared, too, Betty. I miss him, too," Archie's voice cracks. She realizes when her eyes lock onto his that he is saying what he needs to hear from her. She cannot even begin to imagine how to make him feel better when she feels like she's dying so she says nothing.
He shrugs, but there's nothing casual about what he is saying, "I just keep thinking of all the times I took Hiram's side o-or… I-I… I should have been there, Betty. He was probably down there thinkin'... thinkin' that I didn't care..."
She has to look away from his teary eyes because she doesn't trust herself not to break down right along with him. She's so frustrated, being out here. Jughead is literally in the same building as her and he might as well be in another dimension.
"He went alone," she murmurs, forcing herself from the silence as she stares down at her coffee. She laughs softly from her nose, shaking her head. "He didn't even give us a chance to be there."
Betty is overcome with regret. She didn't even get to tell him she loved him too, before he hung up the phone. She thought she had all the time in the world. She runs her fingers through her golden hair and clenches, frustratedly.
"Betty, don't have t-"
"I'm fine."
She shuts down.
The only way to survive this is to feel nothing at all. Actually allowing herself to feel the crushing pressure of everything building up inside of her will kill her.
Archie leans back in his chair, wiping the wetness from under his eyes. He shakes his head and swallows.
"...I'm not."
Betty and Archie's phones buzz at almost the exact same time. They exchange a glance, then reach for their phones to receive the message:
FP [12:11 pm]: Our boy is pulling through. Moving him out of ICU. Get back here.
You still live and breathe
More than any man I know
On mountains high through valleys low
It's hard to believe
You once were holding death so close
Now full of life, enriched with heart, heart
May there be a peaceful road ahead of you tonight
May there be still waters
Here my ship lies to take you where you can rest your head
I will not watch you die
To Be Continued...