Jughead's POV

I waited for an answer for so long, that I thought the line may have disconnected.

"Dad?" I prompted.

I hear him let out a puff of breath and a slight groan.

"You've been poking your head around where it shouldn't be, Jug," he finally said with a sigh.

My brow furrows. "So, you know what I'm talking about?"

"I'm not gonna give you the answer you want," he tells me simply. "So stop looking for trouble."

I blink, trying to control the anger that was bubbling within me. I couldn't snap at him; I needed this information.

"I'm a Serpent," I remind him. "Doesn't that mean I have a right to know?"

"No," he says in a harsh tone. "I'm not going to have this conversation with you."

"Yes, you are," I insist.

"You need to be taking care of your girl," he shouts through the phone.

Betty. Shit. In my hurry to get the information out of FP, I had forgotten about the broken girl in the bathroom across from me. I peered out at the closed door and panic filled my thoughts.

"That's what I thought," he said.

"This isn't over," I tell him, preparing to hang up.

"Yes, it is."

I let that remark go for now; I'd get the truth sooner or later; and hurried to knock on the bathroom door again.

"Betts?" I call, the pain in my groin now just a dull ache. "Please open the door. I won't touch you, I promise."

I didn't hear anything back. I'd have to bust this door down, too. My father would kill me… but he was probably already pissed so what more did I have to lose? I needed to check on her.

Slamming my body into the door, it swung open a lot easier than the Cooper bathroom door, I stumbled into the room to find Betty curled up the corner with a blue shaver on the floor at her feet. Thankfully, there was no blood. She hadn't used it. Yet.

Quickly, I made my way to her, careful not to get too close for comfort and angling my privates away from her body, I kicked the blade to the other end of the room. She hadn't looked up or acknowledged me but she knew I was there.

Her face was buried in her knees that were brought up to her chest. It hurt me to see her this way and I knew I could only partly blame the booze.

"Betty?" I whisper, kneeling down at least a foot away from her. "Betty, I think you should come to the bedroom…"

At this, her eyes, bloodshot from crying, looked up at me. They were wide and filled with something I recognized instantly; regret.

"Juggie," she whispered in a raspy voice. "I'm… I…"

She was struggling to find words and I decided that I knew what she wanted to say; that she was sorry, that she didn't mean it. I decided I didn't need to hear it.

"It's okay, Betts," I say calmly. "I understand. Please, just come to bed."

I watched with anxious eyes as she stood up, wobbling ever so slightly, before shuffling across the hall and slamming her body into the bed. Instantly, she was out. I wanted to reposition her, make her more comfortable, but I'd rather wait until she was fully asleep. Rationally, I knew the worst was over. But the aching pain between my legs kept me anticipating another attack.

I took a seat on the small chair in the corner of the room and watched as her back heaved with every breath she took, wondering if she'd remember any of this come morning. And, if she didn't, do I have to remind her?

Betty's POV

The first thing I was aware of as my eyes fluttered against the soaring morning sun was the intense pounding of my head and dryness in my mouth and throat. The last thing I remembered was getting into Andre's car to come back to the trailer… back to Jughead…

Jughead.

Ignoring the ache, I pulled myself onto my haunches and gazed around the room. The bedroom of the trailer was set ablaze by the rising sun, everything seeming to take on a golden tinge. Where was Jughead?

I let my eyes move around the room and they settled on the nightstand, where a tall glass of water and two white pills sat next to a crumpled up piece of paper. I leaned over and lifted the paper, bringing it into my line of vision and opening it out.

For your headache.

That's all it said in his scribbled and rushed handwriting. Was Jug even in the trailer? Where would he be so early? It's not as if he has to get to school…

I gratefully popped the pills into my mouth and swallowed them down in one gulp of water before downing the rest of the glass. I knew this headache wasn't going to subside any time soon, but I was still thirsty.

Glass in hand, I walked out to the front of the trailer where I was surprised to see Jughead sprawled out on the couch he had opened up into a mattress. I hadn't seen him use the 'pull-out' part of his 'pull-out couch' since I had briefly come to stay with him ages ago. He was lying on his side, half his body under the other half. I shook my head; he would definitely get back cramps like that.

I set the empty glass on the countertop and walked over to the uncomfortable looking mattress, gently squeezing his one exposed arm.

"Jug," I whisper, applying pressure with gentle nudges. My throat burned as I spoke, as though I had been screaming it into rawness all night. "Jug, you need to move a little… You'll get a cramp like that…"

At the sound of my voice, however raw it was, his eyes snapped open and he instantly rolled over onto his back, peering cautiously up at me. I gasped. His injuries from the school brawl were healing nicely, but three long scratches along the cheek under his blackened eye looked fresh and raw, still crusted with blood.

I brought my hands over my mouth. "Jug," I gasp. "What happened to your face?"

His entire expression changes at my words. From cautious, he now looked immensely confused. Before I could attempt to understand, his face changed once more, now to one of decisiveness.

"It's a long story," he says, now fully awake and pulling himself into a sitting position.

"I have time," I say, still reeling from the sight of his new gash.

He sighs and gazes deeply into my eyes as if he were trying to read something within them.

"You don't remember last night at all, do you?" he asks. But he already knows the answer. Even so, I shake my head. He sighs again and drops his eyes to his hands, now folded in front of him. "Well, to sum it up, you stumbled your way to the Whyte Wyrm alone, almost got into the car of a potential rapist and I had to find you and carry you back here, where you promptly passed out on the bed."

My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of all this new information. None of what he described sounded like a typical Betty move, but I suppose alcohol played a hand in most of that. Not even bothered by the 'would-be rapist' scenario yet, I realized he still hadn't answered my question.

"What happened to your cheek?" I repeat, more curtly.

He pursed his lips, seemingly making some sort of internalized decision.

"That guy you almost left the bar with… he didn't exactly appreciate my showing up."

I narrowed my eyes. Something about the way he spoke… it didn't sound right. Either way, I was far too thirsty and irritated to try to make sense of it all now. I got up and made my way back to the kitchen to refill my glass of water.

After a few sips as I leaned against the sink, I heard Jughead's steady footsteps when he came to lean on the countertop, facing me. I licked my lips; I knew it would come sooner or later. I just wished it wouldn't have to be while I was still recovering.

"I guess you want to talk about last night," I ventured, placing my glass in the sink.

I was already preparing my defense, when he shook his head. I gaped in surprise.

"Well, that's new," I noted casually.

"I think the hangover is punishment enough," he explained slyly. "Don't you?"

I stared at his earnest face for a minute, seeing a hint of something hidden behind his eyes.

"You're hiding something," I accuse.

His expression doesn't shift in the slightest. It remains joking and carefree… almost too intentionally. I try not to let it bother me as much as it did. I should be glad that I don't have to rush to my own defense and spark another fight.

"So, Betts," he started, pushing away from the counter and shuffling towards me slowly. I didn't miss the extremely slight wince that inched it's way onto his face as he moved. "What do you say we pop by your place today?"

"Why?" I blanch.

He places his hands on my shoulders and smiles. "Maybe you can check on your mom, see how she's doing through all of this…"

Since when did Jughead care about my mother?

"You have an ulterior motive," I accuse again, folding my arms over my chest and cocking my head to the side.

Unexpectedly, he nods in agreement. "I'd kinda like to talk to my dad, too."

I blush at the fact that I'd let my mind race so uncontrollably. Of course Jughead would want to check on his father.

"Sure," I agree easily. "I'll just go get ready."

"Not so fast," he pouts, lifting my chin up with his finger. "A kiss would be nice."

I smile and pull myself onto my toes, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, before flattening my feet to the ground once again and pulling myself away from his touch.

"Give me ten minutes," I say, backing out of the kitchen.

He nods and watches me as I leave the room.

Jughead's POV

Once I hear the water running in the bathroom and realize that Betty is safely in the shower, I go to the bedroom and throw on my jeans and my grey shirt with the black S printed on the front. I pull on my Serpent jacket and boots and prepare to wait patiently for her in the living room.

I did need to speak to my father. Whatever information he could avoid giving me over the phone would be much harder to hide face to face, where I could analyze his expression and gage his reactions under my skillful eye.

Choosing not to tell Betty about what had happened last night was a snap decision. Originally, I had planned to be as honest as I could with her, while being understanding and sympathetic so as not to let her believe I'm upset…

But seeing that look of anguish in her face when she saw the marks her nails had left… I couldn't do that to her.

But I couldn't focus on that right now. The only thing on my agenda for this day was getting information.

If anyone would have the exact insight I was looking for, it would be my father. I just hoped he'd give it to me willingly. But, in the back of my mind, I was already making contingency plans.

I would get that information, one way or another.