Charles walked into the hallway outside Thistle house's most prominent bathroom. From where he stood, he could hear someone inside crying. He carefully knocked on the door, quietly enough that whoever it was could choose to ignore him.

"Are you alright in there?" he asks.

"I- No-" the reply came. The door was flung open to show Veronica, tears pouring down her face, dark shadows beneath her eyes showing the tell tale signs of exhaustion.

"Hey, Veronica. Is this about Archie? We will get him back, I swear on my life. He'll be safe." Charles finds himself promising, completely aware that this was a promise he couldn't keep.

"No. I mean sort of. I – I'm pregnant. With Archie's baby, and I need him here. I don't know what to do. I didn't want to be a teen mum. I wanted to go to college, and live a life, I wanted everything to be good. I wanted to be happy. I can't do this alone."

"You aren't alone. You have your Mum, and the serpents, and Jughead. And we'll bring Archie home for you. I promise. I won't let them hurt Archie."

"I can't help but worry that what they did to you they will do to Archie. I know its selfish, but I don't want him to see such pain."

"That isn't selfish. Trying to protect those you care about is never selfish. While I can't be certain, I don't believe they will hurt Archie quite as much as me. With me it was all about punishment for what I did. Archie hasn't done anything wrong. They won't hurt him as badly."

To say Charles believed his own words wouldn't quite be a lie, but it may have been enough for Pinnochio's nose to grow. He was conflicted. Part of him believed that what Alice, FP and Betty did was punishment and revenge, their twisted idea of justice, but the other part of him believed that if Betty had feelings for Archie, she would certainly make full use of having him at her mercy. It really depended on how her brain was wired, and Charles was basing his idea of her thoughts of righteous anger of Hal.

Hal had killed those he believed to be doing the wrong thing. Rapists, which Charles thought deserved to die anyway. Those whom committed incest, although the black hood never specifically threatened anyone in that circumstance. Drug takers, like Moose and Midge, who were really undeserving of death. Adulterers, which Charles though was kind of ironic since Hal was married when he began seeing a prostitute. Homosexuals, which Charles found scarily ironic that he worked alongside Chic but attempted to kill Cheryl.

But the key point was that Hal had believed that those who had "sinned" were worthy of death. His way of murdering was of Justice and revenge. So Charles could only hope that Betty's brain would be wired similar.

"I hope you're right. I really do. I'm sorry if I triggered anything, I wasn't thinking. I think I'm going to go and tell my Mum about the baby."

"Yeah. That's a good idea. I need some air." the house was beginning to suffocate him, trapping him inside his body, preventing him from breathing freely.

Charles left Thistle house and walked down the path to the woods around it. The cool air woke his tired muscles up, the morning dew sparkled of spiderwebs like magic spells. The day was brisk and cool, the late spring air filling him with life. He walked a little further into the woods, entranced by being outside for the first time in days.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on the shoulder has him whirling around.

Betty.

Betty stands there.

Betty, her hair in a signature ponytail, as innocent looking as ever.

Betty, holding a syringe,

Betty, speaking the words "Hello brother."

Charles, feeling the air stooping coming to his lungs.

Charles, unable to breath.

Charles, routed to the spot, paralysed in fear, as helpless as a rabbit in the head lights.

Charles, unable to meet his sisters eyes.

Charles, memories of the last time he had seen her washing over him.

Charles, feeling the cold metal of a syringe placed against his leg, feeling the icy liquid enter his blood stream.

Charles, loosing consciousness.