Hey everyone. So I basically fell off the face of the earth. I was still reading and writing and stuff. But my mental health took a rapid decline, so I took a step back. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's been long overdue. I'm halfway through chapter 10 already, and this story will commence its finale during Chapter 12! So I hope you stick with me till then.

I don't own Riverdale!


"Refill Betty?"

She looked up at the sound of her name, startled from the depths of her mind. Unable to trust her voice to work, Betty nods at the waitress, pushing the tiny ceramic mug across the diner table. Once the waitress fills the cup, she offers Betty another soft smile before retreating back to behind the counter.

She was seated at a booth – one tucked away in the back corner, mostly to avoid unnecessary interactions – at Pops. Having been here for just over 3 hours, Betty was beginning to feel a bit sleepy. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at her phone once more, grimacing at the bright screen and lack of notifications. Sighing, Betty pulls the cup closer, cradling the heat in her nimble fingers, the only source of comfort and warmth she's felt since she slammed the door to her house. She leaned back against the faux leather booth, forehead against the cool glass.

"The Jones men aren't that of fairy tales. They don't bring you a happily ever after, they take it away."

Alice's voice resonated loudly throughout Betty's head, a dull reminder of the harsh truth her mother spat at her. Her eyes stung at the realization that her mother had been right all along.

Jughead wasn't any different than most guys.

"The only reason Jughead Jones asked you to prom, Betty Cooper, was because he was in it for money."

It wasn't Chuck's voice that set her jaw in a tight line, it was the fact that he was right. She wasn't worth a damn, especially not to someone like Jughead Jones, resident bad boy, leatherclad hottie who didn't spare a second for any girl.

Except Sabrina.

The familiar darkness that sat quietly in the back in her mind most of the time, tucked away from peeping eyes and nosy people, was rearing its ugly head as Betty played the events of earlier that night once more in her head.

Hearing Chuck say those nasty things was like a slap across her face – a cool realization of who she was becoming, and who she needed to get back to being.

She needed to be strong, to be back on her own. She didn't need Jughead, or any man for that matter. What she needed was her life back – the life spent in solitude and the comfort of her pastel pink prison. She needed her therapist to give her meds once more, the kind that dull her creative mindset and push her brain into a lackluster routine.

She needed to go back to being Betty "The Prude" Cooper.

And she wasn't going to steer away from herself anymore.

Inhaling sharply with newfound determination, Betty quickly swiped the stray tear from her cheek, stood from the booth and set her shoulders. Turning on her heel, she strode out of the neon lit diner, soft 'clicks' from her shoes the only sound bouncing off the walls.


Sirens have always been a pain to listen to – especially when you're riding in the back of an ambulance.

Jughead sighed, head in his bloody hands as he repeated the words in a whisper, again. It was a coping mechanism to avoid anger release. One he learned at a young age and stuck to. "The sun. The moon. The truth." His voice was muffled as he spoke into his palms, not bearing to open his eyes as the paramedic continued to work on his friend before him.

"Male, age 17, gunshot wound upper body." The paramedic lifted Archie's shoulder slightly,

Patience was never one of Jughead's strongest attributes. He could never stand in the lineup in 4th grade for long enough, or deal with the ridiculous schedule change at Riverdale High. Like who in their right mind wants to sit in that hellhole for 9 hours?!

He sure didn't.

But the biggest reason he lacked strong patience skills was because the cloud of uncertainty that always loomed over his head as he was stuck waiting. The unease in his gut that always screamed something was wrong. The tension in his chest that seemed to pull every string attached to his heart taught, causing a painful burn within. It was these things that truly set him off.

This was one of those times.

"Bullet still inside victim, need immediate surgery prep. Eta for arrival?" The paramedic asked the driver over his shoulder.

"5 Minutes sir."

They arrived at the hospital in less, a team rushing Archie off to somewhere else – surgery presumably. Jughead was seated in one of the uncomfortable chairs placed around the hospital waiting room. His leg was bouncing up and down sporadically as he replayed the scene over and over. Over analyzing every minute detail – maybe he could've done something different? Said something to make Archie stay with him at the Wyrm instead of gallivanting off like a reckless buffoon.

But the more he thought about it, the worse his anxiety became.

Jughead jumped to his feet as a hand fell on his shoulder, alert and ready for whatever news followed. The hand that was on him less than a second ago retreated to the culprit, both hands now up in a surrender position.

"Jug. It's me."

His crystal blue eyes shot up, meeting the matching pair staring back at him. "Dad?" Strong arms enveloped Jughead before he could finish the question. His body was warm against Jughead's. Moments passed as they embraced, silence filling the void between them.

Why was he here?

Then, all too soon, Jughead cleared his throat and pulled away. He was still covered in blood – Archie's and maybe his? - and he didn't want to stain his dads shirt as well. Though FP would not have cared. Jughead took in his surroundings once more.

Pale while walls, shitty patterns adorning the fake leather chairs, a few people sitting around – no one quite fully paying attention, but still alert and awake. No sign of Fred Andrews, or Archie's mother either.

No Veronica either.

"Jug?" Fp's hand came to sit on his shoulder once more. "You OK?"

It was such a simple question. Such a mundane worry from a father for his son. But Jughead couldn't respond. Was he OK? He didn't know. At least not for sure anyway. Realizing he hadn't answered, Jughead shrugged in response, turning to sit back down.

Hours passed without a whisper of news. Jughead kept asking, kept badgering the receptionist for information about Archie's surgery. People were running around, new arrivals showing up every few minutes or so. There was a particularly bad couple that came in on stretchers, blood everywhere, neck brace on both. Jughead turned away when he saw the girl, her blonde hair and small frame eerily similar to that of Betty's.

Betty..

Jughead's eye flew wide, hand slamming against his pockets as he frantically searched for his phone. Pulling the device from his pocket he hastily turned it on, wincing at the bright screen, and with shaky fingers scrolled through the notifications shown.

14 missed calls from Betty.

16 unread messages.

4 voice mail messages.

"Fuck!" He blurted out, looking up at the startled strangers around him, "Sorry.."

He pulled away from the waiting room, turning down a less populated hallway. Taking a breath, he dialed his voicemail, impatiently waiting for the messages to load.

"Voice mail message received at 7:54pm." - "Hey Jug! It's Betty! Well, you probably already knew that – uh anyway. I know its a bit early still, technically we're not supposed to meet up for another 5 minutes and im rambling. Ok uh, I'm here, waiting. See you soon, OK?"

Biting his lip, Jughead pressed a button and the second message began to play.

"Voice mail message received at 8:15pm" - "Hey Jughead, it's me again, Betty. Just wondering where you were? Did something come up and you have to cancel? Just let me know soon, alright?"

Her voice was dipped with sadness, Jughead could almost picture the frown adorning her adorable face. With a heavy sigh, he tapped on his phone and it played the next message.

"Voice mail message received at 8:49pm." - "Hey, me again, should I be worried? Did something happen and you're hurt? Jughead please just call me back, at least let me know you're safe and something very important came up. Please."

"Something important did come up.." Jughead mumbled to himself, punching the digit on his phone once more to play the last message.

"Voice mail message received at 9:17pm" - "I guess you're not coming. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe Chuck was right-" Chuck? Sighing heavily, Jughead tuned back in, listening intently. "-Maybe it was just a mistake to say yes to you. I hope whatever they paid you was worth it in the end."

Jughead's heart beat hard against his rib cage, eyes wide with horror at her last comment. "Shit fuck." He pressed the buttons on his phone quickly, scrolling her messages she sent. Most were asking where he was, why he wasn't answering his phone. He was leaning against the wall while reading, hunched over the tiny device in vain.

Then his knees went weak and he slid down the wall, landing painfully on his butt. Who all knew about the bet? Wasn't it just Joaquin and Archie? Jughead thought to himself, head in hands as he sighed heavily. Grabbing his phone once more, he dialed Betty's number, unsurprising when she didn't answer, most likely given that it was 4 in the morning. Sighing again, he shook his head. I'll talk to her tomorrow, Archie needs me now. Standing, he made his way back to the main waiting room, hand grazing the back of his neck with apprehension.

"Mr. Jones?"

Jughead's head shot up at his name, eyes scanning the area until they landed on a nurse a few feet away, timidly holding a clipboard to her chest.

Hurrying over, Jughead extends his hand. "That's me. Is Archie OK? How did surgery go?" He fired off question after question, impatience kicking into overdrive when the nurse didn't respond right away.

She pursed her lips, looking around. "Is Mr. Andrews around? It may be better if I spoke with him first."

Jughead frowned, anger rising. "Whatever you need to tell him you can tell me! Plus, Fred isn't here."

"I think it would be best if we contacted Mr. Andrews first-"

"Just tell me if Archie is ok!"

She pressed her lips in a thin line, eyes downcast as she quickly scanned the clipboard against her chest. With a small sigh, her eyes came back up to meet his. "Mr. Jones-"

"-Jughead. Call me Jughead."

"-Ok. Jughead." She said his name warily, seemingly testing it out on her tongue. "Your friend, Archie, is alive."

Sighing with relief, he sunk his head down slightly, a smile breaking across his face for the first time in what felt like days. A bright escape from the darkness of the past few hours. A small chuckle escaped his parted, chapped lips, more breathy than sound. The nurses voice broke his triad of thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He looked up at her confused, "Sorry, what?"

She bit her lip, eyes avoiding his. "Archie is alive, but-"

"-but what?!"

"-But he's in a coma."

Jughead opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form words through the haze. A coma? Why? He thought back to yesterday morning, when Archie and him had walked into school together, laughing about something Jughead couldn't recall entirely. He was so lively, so happy and awake. Taking a deep breath, swallowing hard, Jughead caught her eyes with his.

"Can I see him?"

She didn't answer verbally, just nodded and turned. They walked quickly, silently, through the bustling hallways of the hospital emergency wing. Each step felt like lead weights on Jughead's ankles, his nerves unwinding with every person they passed by. Finally, the nurse slowed her steps, coming to a stop in front of a door, identical to the rest, besides the number – 15 – staring blankly back at Jughead.

"He's in here." She stated quietly, arm extended to the door. Jughead nodded. He noticed her open her mouth and close it, seemingly fighting with herself to say something. Jughead supposed she decided to say it, since her voice broke the silence again. "Technically, visiting hours for ICU patients are just for immediate family members, and they run from 8am to 9pm." He turned to look at her, opening his mouth to retort but she cut him off quickly. "But! From what I can see, you are his family, and you've been here all night, so you can go in."

"Thank you." He lightly placed a hand on hers, smiling small. She cast her gaze elsewhere, a small blush creeping on her cheeks.

"If you need anything, I'm here till 7am. Just come find me at the main desk." Jughead nodded once more, hand reaching for the door and pulling slightly.