The first time Cora hit him, Jughead could reasonably believe it was his own fault.
His meeting with Sam had gone overtime, and then he had to go through mountains of paperwork with the editor to make sure his third book (a mystery thriller, loosely inspired by his experiences with the Gargoyle King) would be released in time for the Halloween hype sales. Thus, Cora was left alone with the baby for several hours.
And she seemed incredibly stressed when Jughead first walked in the door. She was curled up on the couch in their living room, her hair loosely tied up on her head and one of his old T-shirts hanging down below her waist. She looked up at him and glared as he closed the door, and almost as if on queue, the baby started wailing from his bedroom.
"For God's sake, close the door quietly. He just got to sleep!" She practically growled as she stood up from the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. "Where were you?"
Jughead gave her an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry. Everyone was running late and if I didn't get everything done today I would have had to meet with them again tomorrow…"
"You couldn't take one second out of your busy schedule to let your wife know?!" The frustration in her voice was obvious.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Jughead took his bag off his shoulder and placed it on the coffee table. "I'll go get him."
He'd barely taken more than one step before Cora rounded on him. "No. Leave him. He needs to learn that we're not going to just pick him up every time he cries." She stood before him, her eyes flashing with anger.
Jughead frowned. "He's still sick, Cora. And he's too little to understand…"
"He's almost two months old! My mom started Controlled Crying with me and my brothers by this age and we all turned out fine. I'm not going to raise our son to be dependent on us."
"How long has he been crying for?" Jughead asked, worry starting to build.
"Since right after you left." She spat. "I've been dealing with his screaming for hours, Jug."
"He probably just wants you to hold him." Jughead moved to walk past her, but she pushed him back.
"Don't! He needs to learn or we're never going to get any sleep."
"I'm not just going to leave him in that room while he's screaming like that! He's basically still a newborn, Cora. Newborn's don't cry unless there's something wrong."
"Maybe what's wrong is that you keep spoiling him with attention!"
"You can't spoil a newborn!" Jughead could hear his voice raising, and he tried to swallow back some of his own frustration. Cora was clearly upset, and Jughead knew how draining it could be to be with a crying baby all day. He needed to be patient with her, understanding… she was the one who had to look after their child most of the time, after all.
"I'm so sick of hearing the bullshit advice you keep taking off your step-sister! Polly's the furthest thing from a parenting expert I've ever seen in my life." Cora said. "The way she whores herself out all night, she's lucky those kids haven't been taken off her."
That struck a nerve with Jughead. "At least she doesn't abandon her kids when they're in pain!"
Cora's eyes widened with fury. "Are you trying to imply that I'm a bad mother? That I'm abandoning our child? Because in case you didn't notice, I'm right here, Jughead. I'm not the one who leaves all day to play literary politics with a publishing house."
"I've gone to work three times since he was born! That's not exactly the criteria for an absent father. And at least when I am here I don't keep our son locked up in his crib in the dark to fend for himself while I lay on the couch."
The sound of her slap across his cheek echoed throughout the apartment. It stung, and Jughead was too shocked to say anything as she angrily huffed and made her way into their bedroom. She slammed the door behind her, and Jughead flinched with the noise.
He took a moment to catch his breath as he rationalised her actions. He felt incredibly guilty; Cora wasn't a bad mother, she just had a vastly different parenting style to Jughead. They were both new to this - he was both their first baby, and trying to adjust to sleepless nights, incessant crying, diapers, Three AM bottle feedings, and all the other responsibilities that came along with having a baby to care for was proving more difficult than either of them imagined.
Jughead knew it would be hard. Their son came early, born at thirty four weeks gestation. The first week of his life was spent in the NICU with an oxygen cannula attached to his nose while he was being treated for Jaundice, but since then he seemed to be developing normally. Being given the all-clear to take the baby home was a relief that filled Jughead to his very core.
What Jughead hadn't accounted for was the strain having an infant would have on his relationship.
Cora thought he was an over-anxious parent, and it was clear that he worried more about their son than she did. Cora had mastitis within two weeks of giving birth, so the baby was formula fed; it was a blessing in disguise for them both however, when it became apparent that Jughead would be able to share the feeding responsibilities and the job wouldn't be entirely left to her.
But it seemed that despite his best efforts, there was always something Jughead was doing wrong when it came to caring for their son. Cora thought he was holding him too much, and he didn't burp him long enough to stop him from having stomach pains and crying until his milk digested. Or Jughead didn't hold him right, and Cora was scared he was going to drop him. Or Jughead wasn't being sensitive enough to Cora's raging post-birth hormones - the combination of his fatherly failures sparked bickering between the couple, and Jughead was often left apologising and promising that he'd pick up his game.
It was the reason he first called Polly for advice.
"It doesn't matter how many books you read, Jughead. There's always going to be something that doesn't make sense, and you're going to just have to trust your instincts." She told him after he'd vented for more than fifteen minutes straight.
"He cries all the time, Polly. No matter what I do." Jughead swallowed. "I don't think I have any paternal instincts."
"You will. You do. It's just going to take some time to figure everything out. Nobody becomes a parenting expert overnight." Polly assured him. "Babies can only communicate through crying, it's how they let you know that they need something. He could be hungry, have a tummy ache, be scared - sometimes he might just want you to hold him. And that's okay too. Just keep him close to you and eventually you'll learn what each cry means and what he wants." She paused, and then sighed. "It's normal to feel overwhelmed, okay? But just remember, if that happens, sometimes the best thing to do is just put him down on his back in his crib and walk away for a few minutes. The most loving parents can become so frustrated with a crying newborn that they end up shaking them, and that can cause permanent brain damage. So if you feel like you need a break, then take one."
Jughead was grateful for Polly's parenting tips, and shared them with Cora. But sometimes he felt like the only thing she ever took out of his soliloquy was the walking away part…
Jughead composed himself and cautiously made his way into his baby's room. The cries got louder, and the baby intermittently coughed between wails. Jughead's chest tightened. The baby was sick - just a cold, nothing too extreme, but it had made him fussier and more upset the previous week. The paediatrician told them he was in the pique of colic, and so listening to hours and hours of crying and watching their son squirm in pain, with barely a day going by where he'd be calm and sleepy, left both parents stressed and at a loss as to what to do to help him.
They'd tried baby massage, specialised bottles, swaddling, rocking - any tips they could get their hands on, but nothing seemed to give their baby any relief. The doctor assured them colic would resolve on its own by three months of age, but getting to that point was a long and exhausting road to follow.
It was another factoid that made him feel so guilty for implying that his wife was being lazy. Their baby was difficult to deal with, and he couldn't blame Cora for becoming overwhelmed. Jughead was overwhelmed too.
"Hey Buddy." Jughead said tiredly, and gently lifted the squirming, screeching infant into his arms.
The day his son was born was single handedly the scariest and happiest day of his life.
Cora grabbed his hand so hard he feared she was going to break his fingers, but he didn't let go of her as she screamed and groaned with every contraction and push the midwife talked her through. Jughead didn't envy the pain Cora was going through, but he encouraged her through it, and stayed by her side the whole time, and was proud of her when the midwife finally lifted the baby up and laid him onto Cora's chest. There was a lot more blood than the movies portrayed, and not a single moment of the childbirth experience was fun. But there were moments throughout the process that made him grateful to his wife for the strength she had and the pain she was going through to bring their son into the world.
Jordan Jones made their family complete.
His son was named after the hero of his first book, The Outcasts. It was Cora's suggestion, and Jughead secretly enjoyed the fact that in a round-about, subtle way their son was named after him. Not that he'd ever admit that the Jordan Jenson in The Outcasts was supposed to represent himself and his own experiences, but Jughead felt that it was fitting to name their first child in honour of the book that had brought the baby's parents together. That book was the very reason Cora had first interviewed him, when she'd slipped her business card into his blazer pocket and kick-started their relationship.
Jughead rocked Jordan against his chest, in that up-and-down, side to side swaying motion that was recommended by the midwife and supported by Polly Cooper. The baby's distressed cries turned to frustrated gurgles, but after a few minutes Jughead felt Jordan relaxing against his chest.
"Shh. Sshhh." Jughead whispered as Jordan slowly drifted off to sleep. "It's okay, Buddy. It's going to get better."
And it did get better. By the time Jordan passed the three month mark, his colic was all but gone, and both his parents appreciated the new calm that settled into the apartment. They weren't as short with each other, got along better, and Cora's mood improved immensely once neither of them was too tired to have sex.
His third book, entitled Demons In The Dark, was released on Halloween. Jughead was surprised to find out that hundreds of people had lined up outside of bookstores throughout the country just to buy the book before it sold out.
Which it did.
"Do I sound happy, Jones? Because I'm really happy. You're making me a lot of money." Sam told him over the phone call that gave Jughead the good news. "We're running reprints as we speak. The boss wants to start shipping mass orders of your books to stores overseas. They're in high demand in Australia, the UK, and France - we're thinking of having Demons In The Dark translated into Spanish and Japanese, but we'll need to discuss logistics, because if the translations flop they will flop hard, and we don't want to be left footing the cost of unsold stock. I'm thinking of running a few copies through Glamazon's Print-on-Demand, but that'll be more expensive for your readers, and we don't want to alienate the foreign audience with overpriced sales."
"That's… wow." Jughead said, feeling a little shell-shocked. "I don't even know what to say."
"Well what I want to hear you say is that you're ready to do some press, maybe some book signings in LA. My goal is to strike while the iron's hot."
Jughead frowned. "That… might be difficult. I have a little baby at home, Sam. I don't want to leave my wife for that long."
"By all means, bring the family with you." Sam urged him. "That'll actually be good for publicity."
Jughead didn't particularly care about publicity, but that wasn't the cause of the uncomfortable feeling stirring inside him. "I'd need to discuss it with my wife."
"She's got you under the thumb, Jones." Sam sighed, exasperated. "You millennial authors kill me."
"I'm Generation Z."
"All the same crap to me, Jones."
Cora, as Jughead suspected, was less than enthusiastic about the suggestion of out-of-state book signing events.
"I'm not taking a baby on a plane." Cora said firmly. "It's not happening. Especially not our baby. He's going to cry the entire time and I'm going to lose my sanity."
"He's been getting better." Jughead said weakly. He cleared his throat and tried a new tactic. "You knew I was an author when we started dating. I'm contractually obligated to follow through with promoting my books, and going out to different areas to interact with my readers is a part of that."
"You can promote your books here in New York, or sign a bunch of them from home and ship them out of state. I don't see why you need to go to LA."
"Why should people have to buy another copy just to get my signature on it?" Jughead tried to hold in his annoyance. "This is my career, Cora. I made a commitment."
"If you're so worked up about career commitments, why don't you try actually getting a real job?" She retorted frostily.
Jughead had several angry responses to that comment, one of which was that it wasn't his fault that his books were getting published while hers had been rejected multiple times, and that her jealousy about that fact was less than subtle. But instead, something that Jughead hadn't even realised bothered him slipped out of his mouth like an unintentional cough: "If I'd started a teaching degree when I wanted to I'd have another career by now."
"Oh my God, enough with the teaching crap." She exclaimed. "Do you actually want Jordan in day care all the time? Because that's what's going to have to happen if we both work full time."
Jughead swallowed, and breathed in a calming breath. "No. That's not what I want."
The child in question made a small wail, and Jughead moved towards his bouncer to pick him up and settle him into his arms.
Cora crossed her arms and glared at him. "When I go back to work, are you just going to stand there holding him all day? Or are you actually going to put him to sleep and get things done around here? I'm not coming home from work to look after the baby while you write and keep the place in order."
"Our apartment is fine." Jughead shot back.
"It's fine because I spend half my time cleaning up after both of you. It takes a lot of work to run a household Jug. I don't think you realise everything I do throughout the day."
Jughead told Sam now wasn't a good time for him to be travelling, and his agent grumbled his acceptance and had Jughead run his book promotions from New York. There were a lot more people who showed up to his book signings this time around, and he had to endure several podcast interviews throughout the following months.
Several members of his family surprised him that year and came to him over Christmas. Their apartment was big enough to host a crowded family meal, but was far too small for six house guests. Jellybean FaceTimed him from Sweden, where she'd travelled with Britta for the holiday, and demanded that Jughead hold the phone as close to Jordan's face as possible so she could talk to him. FP and Alice stayed with Chandler at a nearby hotel, the same hotel in which Polly rented a room out with the twins.
Juniper and Dagwood were fast growing up, and were in the awkward in-between age where the meaning behind adult conversation was no longer going over their heads, but they didn't have the maturity to hold back scandalised giggles.
Chandler was in awe over his almost five-month-old nephew, who was sprawled out on the floor on a soft blanket.
"He's so tiny!" He said as he crouched next to the infant.
Jordan looked up at Chandler and gave him a heart-melting smile, and Juniper knelt down beside the boys to say: "Awww, Uncle Juggie he's so cute!"
Jordan had almost mastered pushing up on his arms whenever he was on his belly, and was starting to reach out and grab everything within reach. The best part about him was the happy noises he'd make that weren't quite a laugh but were clearly intentional. Sometimes he blew raspberries, and got annoyed when he couldn't reach one of his toys, and would reach up to try and grab for his parents and accidentally roll onto his back with an adorably confused expression on his face.
Cora assured Jughead their baby was incredibly photogenic, and the selfies she took with him usually got thousands of likes on Instagram. Jordan's bright blue eyes and short tufts of black hair certainly made Jughead smile on the daily. Jordan looked up at Cora from his place on the floor, smiling in his red reindeer sweater, and she sat him upright. He balanced long enough for her to get the cutest photo of him in existence, and Jughead couldn't blame Cora's followers for being smitten with their child; Jordan's own parents certainly were.
Even the times when Cora grimaced because Jordan had pulled a fistful of her long blonde hair into his mouth, Jughead still found his baby boy adorable. And the older Jordan got, the more fun he was to play with; sometimes Jughead's entire day was spent making undignified, infant-friendly conversation with Jordan while Cora held him in her lap, just so they could watch him smiling as his eyes followed his father's movements.
He was still very much a baby, but Jughead enjoyed seeing the smallest hints of Jordan's developing personality. He couldn't wait for Jordan to start talking.
Cora seemed happy throughout the holiday, if a little stressed about Jordan being overstimulated by Chandler and the Twins' attentions. But the baby was on his best behaviour, not a single cry came out of his mouth on Boxing Day - except to announce his displeasure when Jughead took too long heating up his bottle.
And so it came as a surprise when, several hours after his family members set off to join Charles and Betty in Riverdale, Cora frowned as she dressed Jordan for bed. "I think it's a little rude of your family to just show up like that. What if we had plans?"
Jughead, who'd been putting laundry away in Jordan's cupboards, turned to her in surprise. "They're my family, Cora… besides, if we knew they were coming then it wouldn't have been a surprise."
Jordan made an unhappy squeal as Cora placed him in his crib. "Still, it would have been nice to have some warning. Now Jordan is completely out of routine, and he's going to be fussing all night."
"His routine is eat, sleep, shove blocks in his mouth, repeat. Playing with his cousins isn't exactly life altering." Jughead frowned. "We have your nieces and nephews over here all the time, and Jordan always goes back to normal."
"That's because I plan ahead." Cora huffed and made her way over towards Jughead. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out the bedroom door. Jordan made a whimpering noise as she closed the door behind her.
Jughead felt guilt rearing its head. "He's not even tired yet…"
"Because he's overstimulated! Because it's Eight PM and he had playmates up until an hour ago." Cora placed her hands on her hips. "It's past his bedtime, so he's going to go to sleep. I don't care if he stays in there screaming for the next hour; I'm not having a wilful child who gets his own way just because it's the trendy thing to do."
Anger quickly replaced the guilt. "You know what? I don't think I like this Controlled Crying bullshit. He still wakes up in the middle of the night, and Polly thinks all the studies they did on it show that there is no reasonable benefit. If anything, it's more stressful than if we just held him until he fell asleep. I can't relax knowing he's in there crying for us."
Cora's eyes narrowed. "If you think Polly is such a great parent, why aren't you shacked up with her then?"
Jughead stuttered. "That's ridiculous!"
"Exactly! So stop trying to undermine my parenting of my child. Polly lives with her kids in a basement in her childhood home; at least my son has his own room and isn't learning that it's okay to mooch off his parents his whole life!"
"He's a baby, Cora! He doesn't understand that when we walk out the door we're going to come back. He thinks we just disappeared."
"Well the best way for him to figure out object permanence is by letting him fall asleep on his own and having him see us again when he wakes up." Cora's glare hardened. "You're being too soft on him. Nobody ever died from crying too much."
Jughead's jaw clenched. "Maybe not, but they've probably developed trust issues."
Cora let out a single laugh. "You think I'm going to give our son trust issues? That's rich; you're so inconsistent with him he's never going to know where he stands with you!"
"At least he'll know I'll be there for him when he needs me!"
Cora's voice raised dangerously high. "Are you trying to say I'm not there for my own child?!"
"You're not exactly showing him you care!"
That was when she hit him for the second time.
Jughead felt bad later, after they'd both had time to cool off and he managed to get Jordan to go to sleep. He held him against his chest and rubbed his back, and the baby made soft, even breathing sounds once he'd been placed gently in his crib - fully asleep this time, one of his fists resting against his cheek.
He apologised to Cora and told her he didn't think she was a bad parent. He just really didn't think Controlled Crying was good for Jordan and tried to convince her to try something else, something less rigid and more comforting. Cora crossed her arms over her chest and told him that the couch looked like a pretty comforting place to be and that it would always be there for him. Jughead spent the night stressed and moody on the couch, and was wide awake the two times Jordan woke up with anxious cries.
But the next day, when it was time for Jordan to be put down for a nap, Cora glared at Jughead and said: "You deal with him, if you think you're such a sleep training expert."
Jughead was nervous as he sat Jordan in his lap in the rocking chair in his room, and read him a story about lions. For a moment he thought maybe Cora was right about him overstimulating their baby. But then Jordan leaned his head back against Jughead's chest and closed his little eyes, and Jughead slowly and quietly placed Jordan into his crib.
It was the easiest bedtime transition Jughead had ever experienced. Cora seemed even more frustrated when Jughead emerged without a crying baby, but acquiesced that he could take over the bedtime routine. It would be good practise for when Cora went back to work anyway, and Jughead felt like he'd managed a small victory against his wife's parenting laws.
The third time Cora hit him, Jughead couldn't even remember what they were arguing about. He'd been at his desk, trying to come up with an outline for his fourth book, wearing his new reading glasses while Jordan sat in his lap and played with a small rubber chicken. She hit his face at just the right angle that his glasses slammed hard into his eye socket. It hurt, and he pulled them off to put pressure against his left eye with the palm of his hand. Jordan got so startled by the sound of the slap and Jughead's subsequent groan of pain that he started crying, and it took Jughead twenty minutes to settle him down.
He had a bruise around his eye the next day. He told Sam that he'd walked into a door.
He brought it up to her immediately after the fourth time she hit him. She'd followed it up with throwing the TV remote at his retreating form, and it knocked over the lamp in their living space. He'd looked at her in frustration and said: "I don't like it when you get physical with me."
Cora had rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, you're a grown man. Grow up. I wouldn't even lash out if you just listened to me." Her voice was drowning in frustration. "You drive me crazy, Jughead. And it's not like I'm even big enough to actually hurt you. You're so fucking dramatic!"
Maybe she didn't always hurt him physically, but by the time Jordan was eleven months old, Jughead's chest felt like it was breaking apart every time his wife raised her voice.
…
Betty realised something was wrong with Jughead within an hour of him walking through the front door, Cora and Jordan in tow.
She'd long learned to block out the confusing feelings associated with Jughead having a son, and those feelings were locked away in a metaphorical box that she hid in the furthest corners of her mind. It was easy to forget, because now that Jughead was married and settled in New York, she rarely even saw him…
True to what she'd promised him, Betty sought out further psychiatric treatment at Shady Grove after her attempt on her life. She hated being there; there was no privacy, several of the nurses treated her like she was a lunatic and she was almost completely cut off from her mom and sister. She missed Toffee, but she trusted that he was getting enough attention from the children in her family home that she was confident he wasn't missing her.
It was lonely. But when she finally returned to work, and threw herself into hunting down the sordid criminals on the FBI's most wanted list, she felt some of the darkness she'd been drowning in leaving her messed up consciousness.
A year after she tried to kill herself, Betty was offered her dream job.
"The FBI headquarters in Riverdale have been dormant for too long." Her director informed her in their meeting at the ungodly hour of Seven AM. "We've hit a brick wall with Hiram Lodge - the man is more slippery than a sea snake. But, there've been several disappearances on the local highways, with no leads, so we're moving to reopen that base of operations. We need someone who knows the area well and can go undercover on the streets, and you're the only person in our team who fits that description."
Betty had agreed instantly.
Within two weeks, Betty had determined that most of the disappearances were linked to a truck stop just on the outskirts of the South Side. When it became apparent that several more disappearances were unreported, because the missing women were teen runaways, hitchhikers, and prostitutes, Betty decided that she needed to start talking to a therapist again. She used one in Centerville that wasn't connected to the FBI, and talked through the triggers and similarities of this case to the one of TBK.
The thought that maybe she could prevent even just one woman from experiencing what she'd gone through kept her from falling off the edge and reverting to her old self-harming habits.
She soon learned several facts while doing surveillance from a large Mac truck that were irrelevant to the Highway Killer case but sparked her own personal interest.
One: that FP, Fangs and Sweet Pea were constantly at the truck stop. All of them had taken jobs transporting various goods up and down the highway, and she often saw them interacting over cheap gas station coffee.
Another fact was that she recognised a lot of the faces of the hookers looking to earn a buck with the truck drivers. Some of them had gone to high school with her, and were intelligent women that she knew had graduated college. Truck drivers were making shady drug deals with the Ghoulies, sometimes so openly that it seemed a fear of law enforcement was all but non-existent in Riverdale. It angered her to see that Hiram Lodge had all but suffocated the town's job opportunities to the point that the smartest, most successful members of Riverdale's population had to resort to shady drug deals and turning tricks just to make a living.
The third fact, and the one which disturbed her the most, was that one of these people was her own sister.
She knew Polly had been arrested for prositition, and Cheryl Blossom had put her law degree to good use by getting her off with a warning. But it seemed that Polly's assurance that she now worked at the Roving Eye Nightclub was nothing more than a cover story. She was still working on the streets, and Betty suspected that her mother, and even FP, knew about it.
"You can't just come in here and start throwing judgement at your sister, Elizabeth." Alice had chastised her when she brought it up one night when it was past Four AM and Polly still hadn't returned home. "There aren't a lot of job opportunities in Riverdale. Nobody can afford to move out of this town. I don't like it either, but she helps pay the mortgage and she's smart about what she does. Me and FP can't keep our home running by ourselves. Nobody will buy this house even if we do try to sell it and downsize, and if all three of us don't keep working the bank will repossess it and we'll have to try and get into one of those deplorable apartments that are run by the Ghoulies; we've already been threatened when our payments were late! If you want to get angry with someone, get angry at Hiram for making it absolutely impossible for his community to earn a living and put a roof over their kids' heads without resorting to criminal activity!"
Betty was plenty angry at Hiram Lodge, but that still didn't make her any less concerned about Polly.
"There's a serial killer on the loose, Pol." Betty had angrily whispered to Polly when she finally plucked up the courage to confront her about her 'career' choice. "And the conviction rate in this town is extremely high. You're going to end up in jail, or worse, dead in a ditch somewhere if you keep doing this!"
"Stay the hell out of it, Betty." Polly had harshly growled at her. "You have absolutely no idea the kind of crap that's happening in this God forsaken town."
"Then tell me!" Betty had huffed. "I'm FBI Polly. It's my job to stop this shit from happening!"
"I'm not a snitch." Polly's eyes narrowed. "If it gets out that I talked to the FBI I can kiss goodbye any chance I have of making enough money to move out of my Mom's basement. Living here was meant to be temporary, just until I could find an affordable place to live with the twins. Don't you think I'd rather be using my degree in social work? News flash, Betty. There is no place to work. The only job that even comes close is working as Riverdale High's guidance counsellor, and that position has long been filled by Toni. And any place I could even consider renting is full of seedy perverts that cook Jingle Jangle in their apartment buildings, and that's not something I want to expose my kids to. I can't afford to rent a nice apartment in SoDale like you. This is my only option."
"Then come live with me! Get a job at Pop's, or the Whyte Wyrm, or La Bonne Nuit, or anywhere else. Between the two of us we could rent a place in SoDale with enough room for the twins. Somewhere safer, anything that isn't risking your life. Risking your children growing up without a mother."
Anger flashed in Polly's eyes. "A sex worker living with a member of the FBI? No thanks, I'm good. But you feel free to keep deluding yourself into thinking it's just so easy to get another job."
Betty couldn't convince Polly to stop, so instead she increased the hours she spent watching the truckers, and grit her teeth every time she noted down the licence plate of the trucks she watched Polly getting into. She just hoped it wouldn't be the final piece of evidence she had that pointed towards a suspect in Polly's disappearance.
Months went by with Betty repeating the same pattern. There weren't many leads, there weren't any bodies that would shed any light on the missing women in Riverdale. This killer was smart, they didn't want to be caught, and they were devious in their choice of victims.
The other members of the FBI were frustrated when they had nothing to show for their tireless investigations. Hiram Lodge, too, was sneaky in his criminal activity, but they learned enough about his movements to reasonably believe he was paying off the judges to keep people inside his prison. Rarely did any of his prisoners get parole, and rarely did anyone get the lesser sentence for drug possession, or minor violations of the law.
She brought Charles into the case. It wasn't official, and she could probably get into a lot of legal strife for doing so, but he had a well established Private Investigation business, and had plenty of valuable information to give her. Most of Riverdale's residents were nervous around the FBI, but Charles managed to get insider information about the shady deals Hiram made with land owners, and figured out that he had some kind of connection to the drug trafficking in Riverdale.
Betty just had to prove it.
On the Fourth of July weekend, there was a small reprieve from the pressures of work in the form of a family gathering on Elm Street. Betty was nervous about seeing Jughead, but she was optimistic that he was happy enough with his domestic life that there wouldn't be any of the toxic drama between them that was common.
By the time they were all seated in the backyard awaiting the annual fireworks display, sponsored by the Blossom family, there was one thing Betty knew for certain: Cora was an absolute sociopath.
She didn't even mean that in a jealousy-driven way. Betty worked in a field that was crawling with dangerous, emotionless criminals. The type of people that made Betty's skin crawl. And she was good at identifying these people. They were controlling, abusive, heartless… and Cora checked several boxes that left Betty concerned for Jughead's safety. For Jordan's safety.
And Betty sensed instantly that Cora did not like her.
"I really liked your new book." She told Jughead as he broke up a sausage into small pieces to feed Jordan. Jughead looked up at her with a smile as she elaborated. "The Dragon Lord was an interesting villain. I assume you based the story on the Gargoyle King?"
Jughead blew on a piece of sausage. Jordan reached up to grab at it, and Jughead shook his head. "It's too hot, Buddy. Be patient." Jordan frowned and focused his attention on the fire pit in front of him, and Jughead made a complicated manoeuvre to scoop the curious toddler onto his lap while balancing a plate of food on his knee. "Sorry, he skipped walking and went straight to running. He's getting into everything. Drives Cora up the wall." Jughead laughed and shook his head. "Yes, G&G was a big inspiration. But I had to tweak a few details, obviously."
"Of course." Betty gave Jughead a smile.
"Demons In The Dark actually sold well. Really well. They gave me an advance on book four, so I've been spending most of my free time trying to get some work done on that." He gave Jordan the sausage piece, and the toddler grinned up at him. Jughead gave him a smirk. "Not an easy feat to achieve with this little distraction running around all day."
Jordan clapped his hands together and giggled. Betty couldn't hold back from smiling at him. "So what's book four going to be about? Another cult murder mystery or teen romance?"
Jughead shook his head and shot a glance at Cora. She was talking animatedly to Jellybean and Britta across the fire and seemed not to be listening to his conversation, and he swallowed and turned back to Betty. "Actually, it's more about… well, I've been writing the outline of a crime-romance story. This one's about a father who went through an ugly divorce and is trying to get custody of his small daughters. He's an ex-con, and that was used against him in the courtroom, so he only gets the girls once every other weekend and for a few hours each Wednesday… His ex-wife is involved in some rich CEO's money laundering and drug trafficking scheme and she exposes their kids to some shady shit. But, you know, all the kid's psychological problems are viewed as being the father's fault, just because he made some mistakes as a teenager that just happened to be on public record and make him look bad, even though it was always him that took care of the children, read to them, and taught them how to walk and do their homework."
Betty frowned. "That's… dark."
"Yeah, my agent seems to think so." Jughead swallowed and cuddled Jordan closer. "It's common though. It's twenty thirty and still Family Court nearly always sides with the mother. It's difficult for dads to get primary custody of their children, especially when there's nothing outwardly wrong with the mother. Even if she has a cold-hearted, strict method of parenting that scares the kids into obeying her will."
"I guess that's a topic that needs public attention." Betty's heart rate sped up. "Jug… are you…" She paused and searched his face; it was pale, and he was looking down at Jordan with a fearful glint in his eyes. "Okay?"
Jughead looked up at her and cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm fine. It's just a… difficult thing to think about. I feel for the dads who lose their kids because of an archaic, sexist belief that mothers are what's best for the child."
Betty hadn't quite formulated a response before Cora was walking over to Jughead, a hard look on her face. "You ready to go, Jug?"
Jughead frowned as he looked up at her. "The fireworks don't start for another half hour… I thought you wanted to stay until—"
"Jordan gets scared of loud noises. You know that." Cora said with a clipped tone. "And he's tired anyway. I don't want to have him being fussy. He already hates his travel crib; the other guests at the Five Seasons are going to complain if they have to listen to a screaming baby all night."
Betty expected Jughead to argue with her - he certainly looked like he wanted to - but instead he visibly held back. Betty's eyes widened as he watched him clamp his lips shut and hold Jordan closer to his chest while he stood and bid the surprised members of their family goodbye.
"Come around for breakfast tomorrow at least." Alice suggested warmly. "Jellybean formally requested I make waffles with all the toppings." She added with a laugh.
Jughead opened his mouth to speak, but Cora quickly cut him off. "We have to get back on the road pretty early. Maybe next time."
Watching them go back inside the house together left a bad taste in Betty's mouth.
"This probably isn't any of my business…" Britta said quietly to Betty after everyone had returned to their Independence Day celebrations. "But is Jughead's wife always so…" She bit her lip and paused as she considered her words.
Jellybean came up behind her. "Bossy? Controlling? Jealous? Devoid of all positive human emotion?"
Britta shot Jellybean a scandalised look. "I wasn't going to say it like that."
"That's because you're too nice, babe." Jellybean said affectionately. "Luckily, I'm three tequila sunrises deep and I'm not too nice. I hate that bitch."
"Jesus, JB." Britta said, and Betty laughed. "This is why our friends don't want to invite us to their drug and alcohol fueled fiestas. One drink and you lose all inhibitions."
"Don't you know it?" She winked, and Britta let out a small giggle. "Hey, what were you and Jughead talking about?" Jellybean directed the question at Betty. "Your little discussion looked… intimate."
"Jellybean…" Britta whispered, shooting Betty a panicked look.
Jellybean waved her hand dismissively. "No, really, he seemed like he was telling you something important. Cora was giving you a glare so cold - I honestly thought she was going to start shooting icicles at you through her eyes."
Betty sighed. "He was just telling me about his new book."
"Oooh, giving you the inside scoop I see. What's it about?"
Betty felt a small roll of nausea building in her stomach. "Um… divorce. And father's losing custody of their kids."
Jellybean, who had been leaning casually against Britta, suddenly stood up straighter. "That's… concerning." Her eyes widened as she looked at Betty. "Why would he be writing about that? He only ever writes about things he's experienced himself…"
"I know." Betty said, her stomach clenching. "He seems… down."
"You'd know all about Jughead going down." Jellybean said. Britta shot her an unimpressed look, and Jellybean blushed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know, that comment was out of line. I just really worry about Jughead, and I don't do 'worry' very well. You know his friend Dean messaged me not long ago to ask if he was okay? They haven't seen each other in—wait, speak of the devil." Jellybean nodded towards the house.
Betty's head whipped around and she saw Jughead descending the stairs to come back into the yard. His eyes were red and watery, and he was hunched over in an awkward position.
FP noticed he'd returned as well. He hurried over to meet Jughead at the bottom of the stairs. "Boy! You're back. I thought… Wait, where's Jordan? And Cora?" He gave Jughead a once-over and frowned.
Jughead wiped his eyes and tried to stand up straighter. His voice shook as he began to talk. "She… left." He swallowed and cleared his throat. "She went back to the hotel with Jordan. We had an argument about…" His eyes nervously flicked over to Betty for a split second, but not quickly enough for the others not to notice. "Well, she just needs some time to cool down. She will, don't worry. But, is it okay if I crash here tonight?"
"Of course!" FP said quickly. He clapped Jughead on the shoulder. "Come inside with me, I was about to go make some coffee."
Jellybean's mood darkened as they watched the two men slowly make their way back inside the house. "I hate her. I hate everything about her."
Betty couldn't help but share the same sentiment.
The fireworks were about to start, and the kids were all bursting with excitement as they took party poppers from Polly's outstretched hands. Betty tried to pretend she wasn't affected by the lack of Jughead's presence in the yard, but the worry about him and his deteriorating mental state consumed her thoughts as she chewed on her thumbnail.
And then FP came outside, his eyes wide and his chest heaving breathlessly as he hurried down the stairs and over to the awaiting group.
"Betty, I need your keys. Your car's behind mine." He said in a rush, and Betty quickly opened her handbag to retrieve them. "Alice, call Keller. Tell him to send someone to the bridge over Sweetwater River. Now."
Betty handed over her keys with wide eyes. "What's wrong?" She asked as she followed FP back up the stairs.
"Cora had an accident. The car went off the bridge, and her and the baby are trapped inside it."
Betty didn't have time to react to the news before she ran up ahead of FP. "I'll drive."
Jughead was beyond stressed the entire five minute drive to Sweetwater River. He hadn't even put his seatbelt on, so anxious for the trio to hurry up and get to the bridge before the car sank and the undertow washed it away that he was entirely unconcerned for his own safety. Betty sped the whole way, and ignored the honks and flashing headlights of the other drivers. Jughead wrenched the passenger door open before she'd even finished parking the car, and sprinted down to the riverbank beside the bridge.
Cora was already crouched in the dirt, drenched with water and shivering. Her long blonde hair stuck to the side of her neck as she stood up and reached out to Jughead.
FP and Betty hurried over to the couple in time for Cora to tearfully tell Jughead that she couldn't get Jordan out of the car. Betty saw the submerged headlights of their black SUV glowing dim beneath the surface of the river mere moments before Jughead was pulling off his jacket and diving into the dark water.
The three remaining adults held their breath as they waited for Jughead to reemerge. Sirens blared in the distance. FP moved closer to the edge of the river as though he was going to join Jughead in his search, and Betty's anxiety rose its head as she remembered a time that she'd been trapped inside a sinking car - one that she'd willingly driven off this very bridge herself, and felt the crushing weight of the water stealing the last breath of oxygen from her lungs…
Jughead's head popped out of the water several minutes later, and he spluttered and gasped as he held his limp toddler up above the water. "Dad!" He coughed out, and FP ran into the water to drag Jughead closer to the riverbank.
Jughead stumbled over and collapsed into the dirt, Jordan clutched to his chest. He laid the toddler on the ground beside him, and Cora began hyperventilating as she kneeled beside the two.
"He's not breathing." Jughead choked out, his hands shaking as he opened Jordan's blue lips. "He's not breathing."
Betty sank to her knees. "Move over." She said determinedly. She picked up Jordan's floppy body and laid him across her left arm. She covered his nose and mouth with her lips and blew a puff of air into his lungs. The taste of river water triggered a dark memory, but she forced it away as she used her right index and middle finger to rhythmically compress his chest…
A stream of water gurgled out of Jordan's mouth. Then he gasped, his icy blue eyes opened wide and immediately screwed shut as he let out an ear-piercing wail.
…
Jordan had to stay in the ICU for four days. He'd seemingly acquired no brain damage, and by the second day he was babbling and chatting to the nurses in his own toddler language as though nothing had even happened. The only side effect of his near-drowning seemed to be that he was a little fussier than usual, and he was significantly sleepier. His parents kept vigil by his side throughout the days, and Cora stayed with him overnight.
Jughead hated to be away from his wife and child. They'd both almost died. He'd almost lost them. It consumed his every waking thought. As did the guilt of feeling like it was all his fault…
He said as much on the third and final night that Jordan and Cora slept in Riverdale General. Only Betty and Charles were in the kitchen in their family home with Jughead, all nursing short glasses of whiskey. None of them usually drank the stuff, but Charles pointed out that having the youngest member of their family almost die meant that all bets were off.
"I need to go into Centerville tomorrow to look at cars." Jughead said glumly. "Jordan's getting discharged in the afternoon if the doctor gives him the all clear, and Cora wants to go back to New York as soon as we can."
Betty frowned. "Why don't you just ask Reggie? I'm sure he'd give you a good deal on one of his cars."
"Cora doesn't like old cars."
Betty sighed. "They're not old. They're vintage."
Jughead groaned and leaned his head on his folded hands. "Not an argument I'm in the mood to rehash." He paused for a moment. "Especially not while she's still so upset."
"How is she doing, after… everything?" Charles asked, feigning nonchalance.
Jughead shrugged but didn't raise his head. "Stressed. Worried about Jordan. She's eternally sworn off of driving, but I'm certain that isn't going to last."
Charles gave Betty an unreadable look, but didn't ask for further information. "I'll be back, nature calls." He placed his glass on the table in front of him and walked over to the stairs to venture up into the bathroom.
Betty traced the rim of her glass with her index finger. "How are you doing, Jug?"
Jughead sat up straighter and leaned back against the chair. "I feel so many things right now. But mostly I just feel… guilty."
Betty felt the urge to reach out and take his hand. Instead she took a sip of her whiskey and swallowed. "It's not your fault, Juggie."
He was silent for a long moment. "Cora thinks it is."
Betty's eyebrows rose. "Did she say that to you?"
Jughead slowly shook his head. "Not in so many words, but… I know."
Betty felt her lips drooping into a frown. "Juggie, it isn't your fault that she was driving recklessly and crashed her car in the river."
"But it is, though." Jughead said, pain heavily prevalent in his voice. "She wouldn't have been so distracted if I hadn't made her angry."
"Jughead, you weren't the one who was driving." Betty said with exasperation. "What could you have possibly done to warrant her blaming you for her accident?"
Jughead's face paled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It doesn't matter. She was just overthinking. But even so, I should have been more sensitive to her insecurities."
Betty had a strong feeling she knew what Cora's insecurities were.
Jughead was still pale as he took another swig from his glass, then a haunted look overcame his face. "You know what's messed up?"
Betty tilted her head to the side. "What?"
Jughead stared blankly at his glass. "It's so bad… and I know I'm wrong, so you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Polly."
Betty felt her heartbeat speeding up. "Of course."
"For a moment there…" Jughead began, his voice barely raining above a whisper. "When I saw her, out of the car, with our baby still inside it I thought…" He trailed off, and Betty wondered if he was going to change his mind about talking.
Betty leaned forward. "You thought what?"
Jughead didn't continue for almost a minute. "I thought…" Jughead finally looked her in the eyes. "I thought she drove off the bridge on purpose."
Betty's insides froze. "But… why? Why would she do something like that?"
"To punish me." Jughead whispered. "Maybe because she thinks I have wandering eyes… or because she's hurt that I love Jordan more than her…"
Betty could feel her eyes prickling with heat. "Jug…"
"I thought she would want that." Jughead said, his voice getting slightly louder. "I hope she loves Jordan more than me. She's his mother. I want him to be her priority. She should love him more than anything else in the world. I do. There's nothing I wouldn't do for that kid." Jughead started getting choked up. "He's everything to me."
…
Jughead's semi-intoxicated confession had given Betty a lot to think about. When he went back to New York with Cora, in their new white SUV that looked pretty on the outside but probably left a lot to the imagination under the hood, she set her sights on a new investigation. One that focused on proving whether there was any foundation to Jughead's fears that Cora might have driven off the bridge deliberately…
Riverdale's FBI director was less than supportive of her personal mission, so Betty turned to the only other investigator in town that wasn't connected to any federal law enforcement. She didn't tell him that Jughead was the one to bring it to her attention, because that felt like a violation of his trust. But Betty had fast become convinced that Cora had tried to kill her son, and if she was right, then Jughead needed to know the truth.
"Of course I'll help you." Charles said over coffee the next day. "I've never admitted this to anyone because I thought I was influenced by my own bias, but…" Charles sighed and scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. "For a while I've had this gut feeling that Cora might be a sociopath."
Betty's eyebrows rose. "Really? What makes you think that?"
"She's superficially charming." Charles stated. "She's funny, and intelligent, but… she seems cold, towards Jughead. She's manipulative and controlling. She doesn't seem to understand that her words and actions can hurt others. Granted, these things can also point towards a generally narcissistic personality, but she demands a lot of Jughead's attention; I swear she gets jealous of the baby whenever Jughead gives him more attention than her. She also doesn't seem to react well to criticism. She acts like she's superior to everyone else, and is cynical and disrespectful of others. Jughead has also said some things that make me think she might even get aggressive with him if she doesn't get her way." Charles paused, and a frown formed on his face. "Then there's also the matter of the accident."
"Go on…" Betty urged, feeling like maybe she wasn't crazy for thinking such dark things about her ex-boyfriend's wife.
"Well, I overheard your conversation with Jughead the other night, and I saw how she was acting after the accident. She never once implied that she was remorseful, or that she felt bad for what happened. If anything, she seemed to be blaming Jughead for what happened, and was completely detached from her own part in nearly killing her son, accidentally or otherwise." Charles shook his head. "I don't know her well enough to formulate a stronger opinion, but a part of me has always felt that she likes what Jughead can do for her, more than Jughead himself. And Jordan… Well, he seems like an inconvenience to her. She isn't always actively involved in his parenting, and yet she's critical of Jughead's. She doesn't seem to neglect Jordan physically, but she doesn't give him any affection… and I don't think she even realises it."
Betty linked her fingers together and leaned forward. "There's something else…" She took a deep breath. "There are three different routes that Cora could have taken to get from FP and Mom's house to the Five Seasons. None of them even get near Sweetwater River, let alone the bridge that crosses it. The hotel is in the opposite direction. Cora's not local, but it's not like that was her first drive through Riverdale."
Charles stroked his chin. "Interesting observation."
Betty huffed in frustration. "My director ruled it an accident, and considering the fact that there were no witnesses, it's going to be hard to disprove that." Betty pondered her stance for a moment. "So… let's just say, hypothetically, that Cora does have an antisocial personality disorder… if she and Jughead were fighting just before the accident… couldn't it be possible that she might have done something extreme to exert some kind of control over her husband?"
Charles tapped his nose with his finger. "For Jughead's sake, I hope not. But I'm rarely wrong about people like her, Betty… and neither are you."
…
It took them a while, but Cora and Jughead eventually settled back into a semblance of normalcy. Jordan turned one, and the little family spent the day enjoying his company. Jughead managed to get an extension on his chapter deadlines, and so he threw himself into spending time with Jordan. Cora, too, took some time off work to recover from the ordeal, and the three of them spent significantly more time with each other.
Jughead couldn't be sure, but he thought almost losing their son had put things into perspective for Cora. It certainly had for him; the fear of losing his baby and wife had given him a renewed appreciation for both of them. He pulled Cora closer against his chest at night, slid his hand into hers when they walked Jordan in his stroller around Central Park, and cuddled into her on their couch while they alternated between watching trash TV and supervising Jordan while he played with his plastic trains.
Cora, in turn, was being more affectionate with Jughead. She kissed him more frequently, teased him playfully, and was in a generally better mood than she'd been since she'd first given birth to Jordan. They'd been having sex before, but from the moment they returned home from Riverdale, a desperate, almost survival-driven need for each other radiated between them. Cora was hungry for Jughead's body in a new and more passionate way, and Jughead was more than happy to oblige her.
Despite the anxiety that would swell inside of him whenever he didn't have Jordan in his immediate line of sight, Jughead felt that life was good. Great, even. At least, it was, until October rolled around and the publishing house wanted to see the final chapters of his fourth book, tentatively entitled: "Deadbeat Dad".
"Excuse me husband, but are you coming to bed?" Cora asked, her voice slow and hazy. When Jughead looked up from his typewriter and turned to her, he noted mournfully that she was leaning against the doorframe, wearing only her lacey blue underwear and giving him the most tantalising bedroom eyes she'd ever possessed.
Jughead regretfully sighed. "Soon, I swear. I just need to get this chapter finished so I can send it through to Sam. I missed the Halloween deadline, but he thinks I can still make it in time to get it out by Christmas."
Cora frowned. "Well, hurry up, or I might just have to start without you…" she said, then turned and sauntered into their bedroom.
Jughead groaned and turned back towards his typewriter. "That's not helping me focus!" He called out to her.
Her voice was slightly muffled as she responded. "Well if you're lacking inspiration you can focus on the fact that your wife is in here ravishing herself…"
Jughead laughed and set back to work.
Admittedly, he was lost on a way to bring the final few chapters to a close. While he was confident his new story checked most of the boxes to be a satisfying tale, he still felt that it was lacking… something. He needed to put something more into it, something that would entice his readers to become obsessed with the novel, rather than just sympathise with the plight of Fredrick Johnson's quest to expose his ex-wife's criminal activity and win his custody battle. He knew Fredrick was a complex and interesting character - he just needed to add something that would create an element of romance to the otherwise engaging crime tale.
Sure, there were moments where Fredrick reminisced on the good times he had with his ex-wife, and mourned the loss of her respect. Her love. Her touch… but Jughead needed something for Fredrick to look forward to, something, aside from being reunited permanently with his daughters, that would give the readers an engaging and satisfying ending.
An idea sprung up in Jughead's mind, and he spent hours alternating between his typewriter and computer to add in the extra element to his story.
Jughead had no idea he'd been obsessively writing all night until Cora startled him with her words. "Have you even moved?" She asked, with shock and mild horror in her voice.
Jughead turned around and looked at her, only now noticing how sore his eyes were. "What time is it?" He asked, and removed his glasses to rub his eyes as he stood up from the desk.
"It's Eight Thirty." She said, staring at him with wide eyes.
"In the morning?!" He exclaimed, and pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "Oh my God… I went on a writing bender."
Cora huffed and pulled her dressing gown around her. "Did you at least finish your book?"
"Yeah… I think I actually did." Jughead yawned. "I'll send it through to Sam now… he'll be pleased. He gave me until the end of the week." Jughead stretched, feeling the cramps in his muscles protesting. "Do you mind if I get a few hours of sleep in? I'm so tired."
"Ah… yes, I do mind." Cora said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's Monday, Jug. I have to go to work, remember?"
Jughead gave her a pleading look. "Please, can you go in later? I'm wrecked, Cora. I'm in no state to look after a toddler right now."
"Well you're going to have to deal with it. Drink some coffee or RedBull or something. He's going to wake up soon, and you need to be alert enough to take care of him. I'm not missing work just because you took too long to get your shit together."
Jughead loved his son, but spending the day entertaining him was extremely tiring when he'd already been awake for twenty four hours. By the time Cora got home from work, Jughead was feeling run down, and almost immediately he handed Jordan to her and slowly slumped toward the bedroom.
"Where are you going? I just got home… don't you want to spend time with me?" Cora asked, hurt evident in her voice.
Jughead felt a small wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Cora. But I'm exhausted. Jordan's been hanging off me all day."
"Hey, don't use him as an excuse. You know damn well you could have put him in his room if you didn't want to deal with him."
Maybe it was lack of sleep, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with Cora's negative opinions. "Can we not do this right now, please? I'm on the verge of passing out. I already made dinner for you both, you just need to reheat it."
"Great, more half assed spaghetti." She glared at him and carried Jordan into the kitchen. "Hopefully Jordan doesn't choke on it or we might have to spend another night in the ICU!"
Anger was brimming inside him, but he swallowed it back and made his way into the bedroom. He was still steaming as he laid down, but thanks to his exhaustion, sleep came to him fast.
When he woke up, he had no idea how much time had passed. But his brain was still groggy with sleep when he felt Cora roughly shaking him awake.
"What the hell is this?!" She practically growled at him. She shoved him into the bedsheets, and Jughead struggled to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. Her eyes were blazing fury, and a scowl so deep in her expression made her forehead crinkle.
"What? What did I do now?!" Jughead groaned as he tried to wrack his brain for transgressions he might have performed.
Cora slammed a large stack of papers on his chest. "This! What the hell have you been writing?!"
Jughead frowned as he picked up the top paper. "It's… my book?" He said cautiously.
Her glare deepened. "I know it's your book! I'm not an idiot! What the hell is this story you've written? Why would you write something like that?!" She kneeled on either side of his hips, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she leaned closer to him. Her voice got lower, and a deadly calm settled over her. "Are you cheating on me? Are you thinking about leaving me?"
Jughead's chest tightened, and for a moment he felt genuine fear. "It's… Cora, it's fiction."
"Fiction? Don't give me that bullshit, Jughead. I know you base your stories on actual events." She was too close. Jughead could feel the heat of her breath on his face.
He swallowed, realising with a stark despair that adding in that final element, that one extra character may have been his undoing. "It's not real, Cora. It's just a story."
"Your main character is having an affair with his blonde step-sister!" She practically screeched, and Jughead's heart lurched with regret. Why didn't he just leave the story as it was, it wasn't that lacking… "Am I still supposed to believe that's a coincidence?! That there's nothing going on with you and Betty?!"
It was an emotional wound that ran deep, and haunted Jughead on his darkest days. "We went through this. I was just talking to her. There's nothing going on with me and Betty!" Frustration overtook him. "If you would just believe me, maybe you wouldn't have been so emotional that day. Maybe you wouldn't have crashed the car and almost killed our baby!"
"Don't you dare try and make that accident out to be my fault." She said angrily. "And don't treat me like an idiot. I have eyes, Jughead. I've seen the way you look at Betty. Like you'd give up anything to get back with her." She dug her nails in deeper. "Like you'd give up your only child to be with her."
Anger flashed in Jughead's eyes. "I'd never give up Jordan! Not for anyone. Why else do you think I stay here and deal with all the shit you put me through?!"
A deranged glee came over Cora's face. "So you're admitting it! You would go back to her if we didn't have a kid!"
"Get off me." Jughead said, and tried to push her off him. She shoved his shoulders back down against the mattress with her forearm. The paper between them rustled.
"You're going to rewrite that book." She said, her voice filled with venom. "You're going to get rid of that lovey-dovey ending and write something realistic. There's no way a judge would ever give the kids to a father who has a criminal record." She paused, and lowered her voice. "Or who used to be in a gang."
Jughead glared up at her. "Stop trying to use my past against me. I was sixteen! One parent abandoned me and the other was in prison! I had to fend for myself. You try to bring that up in court and the only thing you'll achieve is making yourself look uncaring and spiteful."
"That's what I'll have to do if you ever even think of trying to take my son away from me." She let out a maniacal, disturbing laugh. "You might be a famous, hot shot author, but no amount of notoriety is going to help you win custody of Jordan."
"They won't give me Jordan because I'm famous. They'll give him to me because I'm a better parent."
He had a brief moment to regret the comment. Cora's eyebrows rose in anger, and she lifted her arm off his chest. He thought she was going to slap him, hard. She had that dangerous, angry look in her eyes that infected her any time he pissed her off. But she didn't; instead she wrapped her cold hands around his neck and squeezed.
Jughead gasped - or, he tried to, but all the air inside his lungs was trapped, and his eyes widened as he grabbed her wrists and tried to pull her off him. But she was strong, stronger than he even realised, and he was fast approaching light-headed pain as she glared down at him and choked him.
Out in the living room, Jordan started crying, and the sound distracted Cora long enough that Jughead managed to roll them over; she lost her grip on his neck, and he struggled to bring in air as he hurried off the bed and away from her. He stumbled backwards and tripped, landing on the bedroom floor with a thud. Cora was soon on her feet, stalking towards him with a furious glare.
Jughead scrambled to his feet and backed away from her and out into the living room. Jordan was crying; he stood beside the couch, his little face screwed up as he looked up at his father. Jughead moved to pick him up, but paused to duck as Cora ripped a book off the shelf beside their bedroom and pegged it at Jughead's head. He backed away from Jordan, hoping that Cora would follow him and ignore the shrill wails of their son.
She didn't. "Look what you've done. Now he's crying again!" She practically screamed at him.
"You're scaring him." Jughead said quietly. As if to prove his father's point, Jordan cried louder as Cora angrily grabbed the standing lamp beside the desk and knocked it over. The bulb shattered as it landed.
"Cora, stop." Jughead pleaded with her. Panic reared its head as he watched Jordan toddle towards her. Still crying, he lifted his hands up to his mother.
He was mere inches away from her when she turned her face down towards him. "Will you shut the fuck up for five seconds?!"
Jordan flinched away from her, then started crying louder. And Jughead saw it - that piercing glare she always set on him, now trapping Jordan in its wake. Jughead took only one step towards his son before the frustration inside Cora exploded, and she kicked Jordan away. The sound of him hitting the ground impacted Jughead more than any slap she'd ever given him.
Jordan went completely silent.
Jughead didn't waste any more time. He grabbed Jordan from the ground and clutched him against his chest. Cora still had that glare, and Jughead could almost feel it as he hastened to his desk.
"What are you doing?" She spat.
Jughead shoved papers and pens aside as he searched for his car keys. "I'm leaving you."
"Ha! Not with my baby you're not." She was by his side in seconds, and Jughead quickly transferred Jordan to the arm furthest from her. "You leave and I'll call the cops. I'll tell them you kidnapped him. That I was just so scared of you that I couldn't stop you! Good fucking luck in court with that hanging over your head! I'll make sure you never see our son again!"
"I'll take my chances!" He shouted at her. He gave her one searing look of contempt before he continued his search for his keys. He found them, finally, tucked in between his typewriter and pencil case. He reached for them with his right hand, and had a moment of relief as his fingers closed around the cool metal.
And then Cora, with a strength that would leave Jughead fearful of the woman for the rest of his life, angrily wrenched the typewriter off the desk and slammed it back down on Jughead's arm.
He couldn't hold in the groan of shock and pain that slipped out of his lips involuntarily. Jordan screamed, and cried again, his arms wrapping around Jughead's neck so hard that it hurt. Jughead struggled to keep the keys in his hand as he ripped his arm out from beneath the typewriter. He and Cora both jumped back as it came crashing to the floor.
He couldn't remember fleeing the apartment, Jordan glued to his chest while Cora screamed at him from the doorway. It was possible that he passed one of their neighbours in the hall, but for the life of him he couldn't recall the owner of the worried look that was thrown in his direction.
The only reason he didn't drop his keys was the fact that he couldn't move his fingers.
Jordan's cheeks were wet with tears as Jughead buckled him into his car seat. "It's okay, we're okay." He kept telling his son as he struggled to get the clip together. He could barely feel the pain in his arm, his body so filled with adrenaline that the only thing he could think of was getting the hell away from Cora as fast as humanly possible.
He had nothing with him. Not his phone, his wallet, his laptop bag - the only possession either he or Jordan owned was a blue rabbit plush toy that permanently lived inside the car.
"Hold your bunny, Jordan." Jughead's voice shook, as he passed the plush to the toddler's outstretched arms. "Hold it for Daddy, okay?"
Jordan's hands curled around the toy, and he stared at Jughead as he closed the door and struggled to start the engine. Jughead just hoped the car wouldn't run out of gas before they got to Riverdale, because there was no way he was going back inside the apartment to retrieve his wallet…
…
Jordan was fast asleep, his head resting against the baby seat by the time he and Jughead arrived at the Elm Street house. Jughead couldn't blame him; it was close to Two AM, and the only thing keeping Jughead awake was the desperate need to find somewhere safe to take his son.
When Jughead killed the engine, he took a moment to stare up at the house. The lights were all off, and no doubt all the occupants would be fast asleep. Should he just use his house key and quietly sneak inside? Or was that going to freak his family out and make them think an intruder was breaking in…
Jordan stirred in the back seat. "Daddy…" he whimpered, and let go of the rabbit to rub his eyes with both fists.
"I'm here, Buddy." Jughead forced out.
A set of lights pulled up behind him, blocking him in the driveway, and Jughead froze with fear as he watched a dark figure getting out of the driver's seat. A flash of blonde hair caught Jughead's eyes, and he double checked the car was locked as he waited for the figure to approach his window.
She followed us, thought Jughead, his stomach clenching in terror. She's actually going to try and take Jordan away from me.
But as the figure approached Jughead's car, and squinted as it ducked it's head to look inside the window, Jughead realised with an overwhelming relief that it wasn't his wife standing ominously in the dark.
"Jughead?" Betty asked, surprised, as Jughead rolled down the front window. "What are you doing here… so late?"
"Thought I'd come visit." Jughead tried to give her a sly smile, but his face could only morphe into a grimace. "The weather here is great this time of year."
"It's going to snow tomorrow." Betty said, bemused. She squinted her eyes again, and her gaze travelled down to Jughead's neck. "Jug… did something happen? Maybe with… Cora?"
Jughead swallowed, his chest getting tighter. "Yeah… something like that." He tilted his head. "Wait, what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I, ah… was keeping watch at the truck stop for a case. I saw your car drive past and thought it was a bit out of place so I decided to follow. I completely forgot what kind of car you had."
Jughead nodded, and looked up ahead at the quiet house. "Well, I'm glad it was you. You… you have no idea how happy I am to see you."