Three Years Earlier.
"I'll be right back, okay?"
Polly's voice was still echoing in the back of Betty's head a little over two minutes after her sister had left the room, leaving her to choke on the sickly taste of her popsicle. Which suddenly didn't seem as appealing as it had a few minutes ago.
It was the frenzied knock on their front door that had sent the ice lolly slipping from her fingers and landing on Betty's pastel pink rug, a splash of crimson bleeding into the fabric. The taste of the frozen fruit treat was sour on her tongue, and she had to swallow several times to stop stinging bile creeping back up her throat. The clash of flavour, bitter cherry and sweet blueberry, was usually more of a delight.
Except in this case it tasted more like stale vomit, like she had accidentally swallowed a quarter, the tangy metallic aftertaste twisting her stomach into knots. The sound of Polly's footsteps thudding down the stairs intonated gunshots, each one piercing her ears, throwing Betty into fight or flight. Betty's hand was wrapped around the cold steel of the handle of her bedroom door, but she couldn't bring herself to pull it. Her heart was a relentless jackhammer in her chest, every second seeming to drag the longer Polly was gone. It was fine, she told herself. Mom was downstairs, so it was probably her bringing in groceries. Though Betty hadn't seen her mother in a few hours. Alice Cooper had been downstairs making breakfast when she and Polly had headed upstairs to get ready for school. The knock could be Jason, but it didn't sound like Polly's boyfriend. He had a very distinct knock, one that Betty always recognised; three consecutive loud bangs.
The one that she and Polly had heard, however, was more...desperate. Betty had counted. Seven knocks on their front door. There had been no movement from downstairs, which meant Alice had not answered it, which in turn sent Betty's thoughts spiralling. Had her mom gone out? If so, why? It was Alice's day off, and she prided her days off on making sure the house looked spectacular, even in the early hours before the school bus arrived.
So, who was it? Betty thought, panicking.
The mail?
No. The mail didn't come this early, and Betty didn't remember herself, Polly or her mother ordering off of Amazon. Besides, Alice had a ban on any of her daughter's ordering online. Ever since Polly bought what she thought was a dress from Ebay for her junior prom, which turned out to be a box full of thrift store clothing. Alice had been fuming.
Betty was usually a fairly calm person. The only things that scared her or gave her the heebie jeebie's were horror movies, and the commercials on Adult Swim after 8PM. This was different. This wasn't a so-called monster under the bed, or a Japanese creepy pasta haunting the back of her mind. This was real life, a possible intruder in their home, and Betty was alone. Her gut clenched, a coil of dread beginning to slowly unravel down her spine. The idea of a stranger being in her home set her nerve endings on fire, but Betty couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the soft fibres of bedroom carpet, tiny wands tickling her soles, doing nothing to drown out the sound of her heart pumping in her ears.
"Polly!"
Swallowing thickly, she shouted her sister's name with more vigour, her narrow fingers squeezing the cool metal handle tighter, which was a welcoming relief on her clammy palms. With her heart in her throat, Betty twisted around to look for her phone before remembering she had left it on the kitchen island downstairs. She was silently cursing herself when a familiar scream rang out, making all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, gooseflesh prickling down her bare arms. Polly. Her legs weakened, the cry sending her heart volleying into her throat. Something ignited inside of her, morbid curiosity and the overwhelming urge to protect her sister. Before she could think about what she was doing, Betty was yanking the door open with a hissed out breath and tripping across the upstairs landing. Betty's legs were on autopilot, driving her forwards, her bare feet slapping down the wooden steps of the Cooper home.
Staggering, Betty threw out her arms to keep her balance, hands gripping the banister as she took one step down at a time; pulse racing as she listened for any sound promising her safety. The house was eerily quiet and she couldn't help but think the worst had happened to her sister. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she lunged for the umbrella stand, selecting a pointy one to wield as a weapon should an intruder dare to attack. The front door was open to her surprise. But there was nobody there.
No sign of her mom, either.
"Polly?" Betty's voice was teetering on hysterics. Wrapping her fingers around the umbrella - pink, with yellow polka dots- she changed her stance, edging towards the kitchen. The lounge door was open, spilling warm, cosy light. Empty. That left the downstairs bathroom and the kitchen. Feeling pathetic, only half dressed in her powder pink sweater for the day and her pyjama pants, her hair sticking up everywhere, she managed another shaky step. The front door was in plain sight, and if Betty squinted, she could see Mr Gilmore walking his Pomeranian. He was in yelling distance. She started towards the door in quick strides, brandishing the umbrella like a katana, when a crash sounded from the kitchen. This time, louder, followed by another familiar shriek.
"In here!" Polly's frantic cry rang out, and Betty swung back around, stumbling towards her sister's voice. When she reached the threshold, and got a good look at the carnage, Betty nearly dropped the umbrella. The kitchen looked perfect as usual. There were two steaming plates of eggs on the kitchen island, and two glasses of orange juice. Tearing her gaze from breakfast, Betty found her sister cowering in the corner, crouched near the refrigerator. Blinking in the deluge of early morning sunlight streaming through the blinds, she finally saw the intruder, familiar features bleeding into view. It was a boy. Though not any ordinary boy. He was her age. Fourteen today; small and stocky, unbrushed crimson curls spilling from a baseball cap in messy strands. He was perhaps the only guy in the freshman class who could pull off pale skin, freckles speckling his nose and cheeks. Betty thought it would be a death sentence when the two of them started Riverdale High. Instead, however, he had somehow scaled the high school social ladder, landing himself a potential spot on the Bulldogs come Sophomore year, as well as Reggie Mantle, a well known senior as a friend. Archie Andrews. Her best friend. The Boy Next Door.
Her mom, however, forbade her from speaking to him. That didn't stop them being friends, though. It only strengthened their bond. As kids, they would speak through a tiny hole in the garden fence, making puppet shows and singing to each other until the late hours. In Summer, Archie would intentionally kick his ball into the Cooper's garden so he could talk to Betty for several precious minutes. In the winter, they would both lock their rooms and sit on their respective window seats, and just talk, and watch snowflakes dance and twirl across the window pane, drinking hot chocolate until their parents intervened.
Betty would talk about her dolls, and Archie liked telling her about Pokemon and Power Rangers. Both shows her mother had banned. When they were older, they secretly exchanged numbers so they could text. Until Fred and Alice realised, cutting contact immediately, confiscating their phones. The internet, however, existed; Archie wasn't hard to talk to these days. Unless it was face to face. He had explained that his father was the same, strictly telling his son that speaking to the Cooper girls was not allowed. It was like Romeo and Juliet, but Betty knew Archie had no interest in her in that way. That was okay. She didn't like him like that either. It was the friendship that they had that made her heart swell, though it still confused her why Archie was out of bounds; Alice had never given her a real reason, only muttering that he was bad news.
According to her mother, Betty's best friend and neighbour was completely off limits, but that didn't stop her talking to the redhead. It didn't stop their yearly celebration for his birthday, either. "Archie." she surprised herself with a choked out laugh, letting out a sharp breath of relief. She half wondered what had excited Archie to the point of hammering on her door at 7AM. "Dude, I nearly bludgeoned you with an umbrella!"
As usual, Archie was far too encompassed in his own world to be bothered about the fact that he'd nearly scared the life out of her. It truly baffled Betty that her neighbour could maintain the same smile and stay optimistic every single day. Even when he was upset, she had never seen him cry. The closest was a frown, which was still rare.
"Hey, Betty!" The boy shot her his usual grin, his squeaky voice dragging Betty's unamused lips into a smirk. His voice was yet to break. Sometimes, she teased him that he sounded like Mickey Mouse, which only made him do impressions, making her laugh harder. Somehow, the boy's prepubescent squeak didn't make him a target at school. If anything, the Bulldogs loved to have the small boy around when they hung out, despite the clear age difference, as well as the fact that every senior boy towered over him.
Archie's attention was on something moving in his arms. He kept leaning forward, his head of striking red curls catching the mellow morning sun, setting every strand alight. He looked up, a smile curving on his lips, warm mocha brown eyes melting into hers.
"I know it's early, but I found this little guy when I was heading to school. I wanted to show you her."
Inclining her head, Betty frowned. "Her?"
Nodding, Archie's smile grew wider. "I'm calling her Caramel."
Stepping forwards, Betty squinted, the irritation streaming inside her dispersed, bleeding into nothing. Instead of shouting at the boy, she squeaked in delight, her hand going to her mouth. In Archie's arms was a kitten, a little ginger fluff ball with huge blue eyes blinking up at her. Betty must have looked pretty scary because the kitten burrowed its tiny little head into his arms, letting out a barely coherent mew.
"Archie," Polly hissed, half-cowering on the floor. She slowly got up and turned to the boy, her hands going to her hips. She was scowling, trying to look unnerving. "You know I'm deathly allergic to cats!"
The boy chuckled. "I know, but isn't she cute?"
Betty nodded, her lips breaking out into a smile. "She's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Reaching out to pet the kitten, Betty instead gave the boy an almighty punch in the arm. She was partially getting him back for her own fourteenth, where instead of giving her birthday beats, he had shoved her face in strawberry trifle. Whereas the rest of her was giving Archie payback for scaring the hell out of her. "Birthday beats!"
"Wait, no!" With a choked out cry, Archie realised his time had come, and there was no way to stop the oncoming whirlwind of curls advancing on him, her fingers tightening into a fist that would bare no mercy. Betty's hair was still smelling of strawberry cream days after her own birthday, so she was determined to give the boy birthday beats to remember.
Archie arched back, cuddling the kitten to his chest. "Betty, no! Fourteen is too much!" When the blonde ignored him, hitting him, beginning her cluster of sharp knuckled hits to his arm, he cowered, laughing, clumsily staggering back. "I'm holding Caramel!"
"And?" She countered, edging closer.
The boy's brown eyes widened. "Don't hit the kitty!" He teased.
"I'm not hitting Caramel," she stated, giggling. "I'm hitting you!"
Lips curving into a smirk, Betty punched harder, ignoring his high pitched laughs. She had him cornered, his back pressed against the washing machine, arms useless, since they were holding the kitten. Counting fourteen punches out loud, and one for good luck, Betty finally dropped her arm with a grin. She was panting, and from the look on her red-faced neighbour's face, none of the punches actually hurt. So, to please her, Archie mocked a look of pain, cradling Caramel for comfort. He wasn't doing a good job of hiding his sly smile. Betty knew the boy had muscles he was trying to hide; having Reggie Mantle as a friend had introduced him to the gym, and despite his stocky figure, he was getting stronger. Betty had no doubt puberty would do him well, if it actually hit him, that was.
"You've probably bruised my arm."
Betty jutted her chin. She ruffled Caramel's tiny head. "That's what you get for nearly giving me a heart attack earlier."
The boy looked defensive. "I knocked!"
"Yeah, like a crazy person!" She shot back. Betty leaned against the cabinet, stretching her legs out. "Why did you come in? You know our parents hate us talking."
"I second that," Polly said. Having miraculously gotten over her fear of the kitten, the girl had plonked herself down on a stool and began spooning eggs into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days. Polly pointed her spoon at Archie, a smirk curving on her lips. "You should scatter before mom comes back and boots your ass out herself."
Archie rolled his eyes at the girl. "Good morning to you too, Polly."
The girl hummed, spooning up more eggs. "Happy birthday, Hobbit," she turned her attention to Betty. "You two should head to school if you're walking."
Betty frowned at her sister, folding her arms across her sweater. She grabbed her phone. It hit her, then, that she was still half-dressed. "And?"
Polly sighed, her attention still on the eggs. "And," she added, exaggerating emphasis, "I won't tell mom about Hobbit Boy, or his little ball of disease." Eyeing her younger sister, Polly smirked. "Are you planning on wearing PJ's for school, lil sis?"
Blushing, Betty shook her head. "No!" She hissed. She twisted back to Archie. "I'll be back in a sec, okay?" Catapulting into a run, Betty shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "You can have my eggs!" She yelled back down, before heading into her room. Getting ready was no sweat. Betty washed in record time, brushed her teeth, and changed into light blue jeans and ballet flats. Looking at herself in the mirror, Betty figured she'd go different today. Instead of her usual ponytail, she grabbed a light pink headband which pulled back her bangs, and placed it neatly on top of her head.
There. Betty smiled, giving herself a quick once-over. She looked almost exactly like Polly. The two of them were often mistaken for twins, and she revelled in having her sister's beauty. If not, toned down. Betty grabbed her bag from where it was dumped on her desk, and ran back downstairs, joining Archie at the front door.
The kitten was gone and Archie had retrieved his own backpack, hoisting it on his shoulder. "I've put Caramel in my room. Hopefully dad won't be too mad," he sounded giddy as the two of them headed down the Cooper driveway. Betty ducked, dragging Archie with her, when Fred Andrews opened his door, letting their golden retriever Vegas in the garden. They managed to narrowly avoid getting caught, keeping behind post boxes and darting in front of dumpsters. When the coast was clear and they were finally running down the road, panting and grasping onto each other, Betty let the boy's arm go.
She exhaled the smell of freshly cut grass, the light summer breeze playing with strands of her hair. "Happy birthday." Betty shot the boy a smile. "Did you get your present?"
Archie nodded. "I did," he chuckled. "It was a bit squashed but the strawberry cream was amazing. Like, the best thing I've ever tasted." Betty noticed he was daintily avoiding the cracks in the road, his converse easily traversing fractures splitting the tarmac. Step on a crack, break your mom's back, she thought, quickly following in Archie's wake, hastily bouncing over each one. The two of them probably looked ridiculous but Betty felt safe with Archie. As long as he was by her side, nothing could happen to her.
"It was just a cupcake," she laughed, "mom wouldn't let me take it to your door, so I pushed it under the fence-"
"And Vegas nearly ate it," Archie cut her off, smirking. Betty hit him again, shooting the boy an unimpressed look. "How was I supposed to know dogs could sniff out cake?"
Archie gave her a long look. He raked a hand through his hair. "You're kidding, right?" He scoffed, before slowing down. Betty matched his pace. "Speaking of cake, I don't suppose you want to come to my birthday party tonight?" Before she could speak, Archie let out a huff of breath. "I asked dad and he gave me special permission since it's my birthday."
Betty nearly stumbled. "Your dad's letting us hang out?"
He nodded. "Yeah! But, uh.." Looking uncomfortable, Archie cast his eyes to the ground.
She understood automatically. "My mom," Betty huffed out. She glimpsed a stray pebble and kicked it as far as possible. "I hate her sometimes." To express her anger, Betty stopped avoiding the cracks in the road, intentionally jumping onto one with a groan.
"Step on a crack," she sang, proceeding to skip across each one, "break your mom's back."
Archie scoffed. "I don't even know my mom, and I'm still avoiding them."
Betty huffed. "I'm not," she pouted. "God, sometimes I hate her!"
"No you don't," the boy murmured. Though from the tone of his voice, and a whole childhood of Alice Cooper treating him like a disease, Betty had no doubt Archie had mutual feelings. They were probably buried deep, but there all the same.
"I'm sorry, Arch," Betty ducked her head a little, silently stewing in fury at her mother, but she refused to ruin Archie's birthday by making a scene. "You know I would if I could. I'd be there in a heartbeat if the evil dragon actually let me."
"Yeah," Archie said quietly. "Uh, well it's okay, I'm actually planning on inviting someone I think is cool. Veronica Gomez is going to help me impress them."
Betty stopped abruptly and twirled around to face the boy, a grin spreading across her lips. "Archie Andrews, are you trying to tell me you like someone?"
"No! It's not like that at all, I just think they're cool!" The boy's cheeks turned crimson, almost the same shade of his hair, and Betty rolled her eyes.
"Spill it, birthday boy," she said, jokingly drawing her index across her throat, "or I'll introduce your face to a Pops milkshake." The girl had a devilish smile. "Strawberry cream, your favourite. I bet you can get a nice facial with all that whipped cream."
Archie curled his lip. "You wouldn't."
"You know I would," Betty sang, leaning into him. "Who's the lucky guy?"
When the boy gave her a sharp look, she shoved him playfully. "Oh, come on! Arch, we've known each other since we were in diapers, I know you like guys."
"It's not like that," Archie's voice was small. He clutched his bag strap tighter. Turning to the blonde, he gave a half-hearted shrug. "I just like this one guy."
Sure, she felt like giggling. Surely he hadn't forgotten about telling her he had a huge crush on Reggie Mantle at the start of the year. Instead of saying that, however, she nodded. "Are you going to tell me who it is or will more birthday beats suffice?"
The two of them quickened their pace once Riverdale High loomed closer. Archie stayed silent for a moment before he let out a sigh, a name slipping from his lips.
"Jughead," Archie said, kicking stray pebbles. "He's kinda cool, I guess."
Betty stiffened but quickly hid her surprise. She couldn't, however, hide the fact that her heart had plummeted into her gut, those pesky butterflies once more taking flight in her chest. Jughead, she thought, her cheeks growing uncomfortably warm, like the sun itself was baring down on her, setting her on fire. She didn't know the boy's last name, but, God, she knew his first. Jughead was the one boy that made her heart swell when they passed each other on the halls of Riverdale High. He was always staring at the ground, the worn knitted beanie he wore every day, slipping over his eyes. But they made eye contact sometimes, and it was enough to make Betty's day a thousand times better.
It wasn't like the two of them were strangers; they had worked together on projects, but Betty had never been able to whip up the courage to ask him to homecoming.
The air was suddenly stifling, and Betty had to take several gulps. She ducked her head, hiding her blazing cheeks. "Pokemon Boy?" Her voice was steady, thank god. If Archie knew that she liked Jughead it would make things awkward between them, and Betty didn't want that. "Isn't he the kid who sits around playing on his DS?"
Archie turned to her, brown eyes popping open in surprise. "You know him?"
"Uh, yeah," she quickly replied, "we have a few classes together." She took a breath. "You like him?"
The boy nodded. "Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Veronica is going to help me impress him. She's also coming so I don't blow chunks and make a total fool out of myself."
Betty's heart was hurting, her chest felt like it was being suffocated. But if Archie was happy? If liking Jughead made him happy, then who was she to blurt out that they liked the same guy and ruin it? The words were on her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. Instead, she swallowed them deep down.
"A Letterman jacket," she said, and when Archie turned to look at her with a raised brow, Betty nudged the boy playfully. "Ask Reggie to borrow his Letterman," she said. "Trust me, you'll look cute in it."
The redhead shot her a look. "What's wrong with my normal clothes?" He glanced down at his button down shirt and jeans.
Betty rolled her eyes. "You need colour, idiot," she giggled. "Throw on a Letterman, and I can guarantee you'll catch Jughead's attention."
"But..." Archie was playing with his hair again, twisting strands around his fingers. "It'll barely fit me. I've tried it on before, it practically hangs off me."
"Exactly." Betty grabbed the boy's arm, pulling them further down the road. She glimpsed students start to appear in groups, all heading in the same direction. "You suit anything, Arch. Plus, a Letterman jacket officialises you as a Riverdale Bulldog."
"Okay," Archie said, straightening. He puffed out his chest, smiling broadly. "What else?"
She pretended to think but Betty already knew what to say. After all, she had been at war with herself over the same thing since middle school. "Get to know his interests," she said, mocking the tone of a teacher. "He likes Pokemon, so tell him you like it too."
"But I do like Pokemon," he said, "X is my favourite."
Betty giggled. It was easier to hide her feelings when she was laughing. "Tell him that, then, you pineapple! I say just go for it, Archie. Approach him at lunch and ask him to come to your party." The school gates were approaching, the congregation of kids getting thicker. The sun sat like a perfectly unspoiled egg in a cornflower blue sky.
"Right," Archie said, psyching himself up. He started bouncing on the heels of his converse and Betty couldn't resist a laugh, grabbing his arm and yanking it.
"Anything else?"
"Cake," she said automatically. She remembered back in middle school when Midge Klump had brought in cake for the whole class. Betty had sat and watched Jughead demolish his piece in seconds flat. He'd been smiling. It was the first time she had seen him smile, the bottom half of his face covered in frosting and cream. Her heart fluttered when the memory slid its way inside her head like warm ocean waves. Maybe that was when she'd got her first butterflies for the boy. "Chocolate chip brownie, to be specific."
"Chocolate chip brownie?" Archie looked sceptical. They reached the main gates, the two of them pushing their way through the crowd of frenzied freshman. Betty glimpsed Veronica Gomez in the distance, surrounded by Vixens. Though it was impossible to miss the girl's midnight cascade of hair and vibrant grin. "Veronica!" Archie shouted, waving at the girl. Turning back to Betty, the boy still looked sceptical about the cake. "Are you totally sure about choc chip?" He had to yell over the cacophony of loud chatter.
"Positive!" Betty yelled back, fighting against her voice breaking. She forced a smile at the boy. "Everyone likes chocolate chip, Arch!"
Archie started to back away from her, a smile still plastered to his lips. "Thanks for the help! I'll make sure to text you to tell you how it goes, okay?" The further he was getting, Betty was remembering how to breathe again. Liking Jughead was always something she kept encompassed in her heart, her own little secret that made her squeal into her pillow when even the thought of the boy graced her mind. It was different, however, when someone else liked him. Her neighbour, the boy Betty considered her best friend.
He liked Jughead, and there was really nothing she could do. Telling him would be...God, it would be selfish. Betty didn't know how long Archie had been crushing on the raven-head. What if Archie, like her, had those moments in his bedroom too; obsessing over the beanie wearing boy. The reality was that her best friend had the same swarm of butterflies, the same flushed cheeks and aching heart when even thinking about Jughead.
So, she had to let it go. Betty made a pact to herself, squeezing her bag strap tighter. She would only be happy for Archie. Screw her selfish, selfish feelings.
Betty nodded, swallowing hard. Ahead of them, Veronica Gomez had detached herself from her flock of Vixens and rushed forwards, squealing, blue and gold ribbons in her hair getting caught in the warm breeze grazing Betty's cheeks. "Archie! Happy birthday!"
Turning away from the two of them, Betty let herself be swallowed up by the crowd. Because if she stayed with Archie any longer, enduring his wide smile and glittering eyes full of hope that she had given him, her heart would break into a million pieces.
The school day was long and dragged out. When the bell rang; Betty was one of the first students to catapult from her chair, juggling her books in her arms, her backpack still unzipped and slipping off her shoulders. She was sweating, regretting her choice of outfit. Everyone else wore Summer wear; short dresses and sandals, while she had baked in what Cheryl Blossom might call "Fall Chic". When Betty finally pushed through the doors out into the crisp, cool air, she let out a breath of relief as she pulled her phone from her jeans pocket. She expected the habitual text from Archie but to her surprise, there were no new notifications. Lifting her head from her phone, Betty scanned the crowd of kids but the familiar mop of red hair which was her best friend and neighbour was nowhere to be seen. Swallowing, Betty stuck her phone back in her jeans pocket, joining the swarm of students pushing and shoving their way to awaiting school buses and the parking lot.
Not receiving a text from Archie was fairly normal. He'd probably forgotten to text her or his phone had died. Betty didn't need to know the details of his party invitation to Jughead either. She already knew them, or more specifically, had seen them. Betty had been lounging with Midge Klump and Ethel Muggs on the football field, the three of them watching the Vixens practising their cheer routine. She had turned towards the bleachers, her heart in her gut. Part of her wished for Jughead to be off sick so Archie wouldn't be able to ask him but sure enough, there they both were. Archie was looming over him, a broad smile on his face, Reggie's Letterman jacket hanging off his shoulder at an angle, bursts of blue and gold catching the sunlight bathing the redhead in an almost halo.
The two of them had been talking, Jughead had his head tipped curiously, wide green eyes on Archie, hands still grasping his DS; the boy's attention no longer on the game. Instead, it was on the redhead. Betty wasn't surprised; Archie was gorgeous, an explosion of vivid crimson freckles dancing across his cheeks and wide smiles. Jughead was another type of beauty she couldn't fully understand, one that made her chest ache. Though raven and red fit perfectly together. Betty watched them, waiting for Jughead to look uncomfortable like he usually did, doing his best to avoid eye contact with everyone. But he had a smile on his face that made her heart sing, a slight tomato blush shading olive cheeks when he chuckled at something Archie had told him.
At that point, Betty had turned back around, her stomach galloping. She was smiling. Smiling because Jughead clearly liked Archie back. Smiling because her neighbour was happy, and would probably have the birthday party he'd no doubt dreamed of.
And yet inside, Betty was crumbling apart, piece by piece. If she dove into her own mind, selfish thoughts would plague her. Why couldn't Jughead look at her like that? Why couldn't he smile at her? Laugh at her jokes? Shaking her head, Betty was mortified. No. She would be happy for Archie. Maybe if the two of them ended up dating, she could get to know Jughead better...as a friend. He was an enigma, after all. Mr. No Second Name.
To distract herself, Betty pulled out her phone once again as she slowly moved towards the school gates. Still no texts from Polly or her mother.
Now that she thought about it, Betty hadn't seen her sister since this morning. Usually Polly was on the playing field or with the Vixens, but Betty hadn't seen her all day.
It was okay, she told herself, despite a dire feeling beginning to blossom inside of her, twisting her gut into knots. Her mom was busy. It was her day off, after all. Polly was with Jason, probably cutting class. Betty wouldn't put it past her sister. When they had started dating, Alice Cooper made it clear there would be no teenage fraternising in her home. So of course being seventeen, the two of them booked hotels to get alone time.
That's where Polly was, Betty thought. A hotel with Jason, or even at the Blossom mansion.
Just to be sure, Betty hastily tapped Polly's name and pressed her phone to her ear, sucking in a breath. The dial tone started up before the automated voice buzzed in her ear, sending shivers rocketing down her spine. It was hard to ignore the dread building in her gut, a bad feeling that she just couldn't brush away. "We're sorry, but the person you are trying to call is unavailable right now. Please leave a message after the tone."
Thankfully, the crowd of kids was diminishing, and Betty headed towards the parking lot, cringing at the sound of her ballet flats on the tarmac. "Polly, where are you?" She hissed, walking faster. Her heart started hammering again, reminding Betty of earlier when she'd been paralysed with fear, all thanks to an excited Archie eager to show her a kitten. Betty lowered her voice, "Look, mom's not texted me all day, and it's weird for her to not even ask me if I ate, so once you get this, can you please call me back?"
She didn't mean to sound so pathetic, and yet that's all Betty felt. The sun was a relentless beast, beating down on her. She ended the voice message and tightened her fingers around her phone. Letting out a soft breath, Betty looked around her; the lot was mostly empty, dwindling students and staff still hanging around chatting. She was slowly making her way towards the senior car spaces, hoping she might spot Polly's car, when her phone rang, loud and obtrusive, the ringtone sending her stomach galloping.
Slowly, she looked down at the screen, shading her eyes from the blistering sun.
Mom. The screen flashed with Alice Cooper's familiar number, and Betty choked back a cry of relief. She tapped the accept button. "Mom? Thank god. You didn't text all day so I got a little worried. Is Polly okay? What happened this morning?" Her excited babbling stopped when a voice cut her off. Except it wasn't Alice. Instead, a male tone crackled through, and all the relief that built up inside her bled away.
"Betty?" The voice sounded frantic and it took her a few disorienting seconds to realize who it was, her blood running cold, icy fingers tip toeing down Betty's spine.
"Mr Andrews?" She squeaked, "Is..is my mom okay? Why do you have her phone?"
"No time to explain." Fred Andrews spoke clearly despite his tone. She could hear him moving around, fumbling, opening and closing drawers. "They've found us, Betty." He choked out a hysterical laugh. "Now, I know you're probably confused right now but I need you to find my son, okay? Find Archie, Betty. It's imperative that you find Archie."
"What? Why? Is he okay?"
"I don't know. That's why I need you to find him," Fred grunted. "They already have your mother and sister. They'll be coming for him next."
Betty was suddenly overcome with a rush of nausea. The world, for a moment, seemed to come to a standstill and the smooth metal of her phone almost slid from her clammy grip. She wanted to end the call and throw her phone across the parking lot, but she couldn't move; glued to the spot. Around her, life seemed to go on as normal while her world crumbled before her very eyes. Her gaze was on a freshman boy talking on his phone, a scowl painted on his lips. "What?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Tightening her grip on the phone, Betty sucked in a breath. "I...I don't understand, Mr Andrews."
"You won't," he replied sharply, the man's voice hissed through building static. "Just find Archie, okay? I'll be right there to pick you kids up, I'm just taking care of something."
"No," Betty whimpered. She forced her legs to carry her but they were weak and jelly-like, threatening to cave. It felt like she was swallowing glass, each attempt getting progressively harder. "No, I...I want to know where my mom and Polly are." More static. Fred sounded like he was running, gasping into the phone.
"Betty, just do it, okay?" He snapped. A grunt rang out and what sounded like flesh on flesh. A punch, Betty realised. Fred was in some kind of dispute. She heard every hit motivating the next strike. There was a another voice, what sounded like a manic laugh, followed by Fred's hiss of pain. "Elizabeth," he gasped out, choking out her full name. "Don't go home, do you understand me?
"Why?!" she squeaked.
A sharp, "Oof!" from Fred's attacker, before Archie's father let out a hiss, "Listen to me. I don't have much time. Just make sure my son is safe, okay?"
"Right." Betty whimpered. "Archie should be around here somewhere," she managed to choke out, quickening her pace. The sun was merciless, still beating down on her. Swallowing questions she knew wouldn't be answered, at least not yet, she strengthened her strides. A panic attack was looming. Betty could feel it squeezing her chest and sucking all the breath from her lungs. Another hiss from the other end of the line. This time Fred cried out followed by another crash. Any lingering scepticism that Betty had seeped away like water down a plughole. "Mr...Mr Andrews?" She whispered, stumbling over her ballet flats.
"Betty," his voice was a growl now which turned her blood to ice. "Betty, go," he hissed down the phone. "Find Archie and run! Understand? Don't trust anyone. Not even your-"
When the line went silent, Betty clamped her teeth together to suppress a scream.
"Mr Andrews," she said again, her voice shaking. "Are you still there?" Betty suddenly felt small. So small. Vulnerable, like she was being watched. Twisting around, she gritted her teeth, making her way across steaming tarmac. Her brain was on fire. Betty lunged into a run, forcing her mind into fruition. Fred Andrews had told her to find his son, and run, before seemingly being attacked. He also said her mom and Polly had been taken. Bile crept up her throat. But by who, and why?
Riverdale High's campus was mostly empty. Betty had half a mind to find a teacher, some kind of authority figure. The police. But Fred had told her to find Archie.
So, that's what she was going to do.
Then... God, she was going to find her mom and Polly.
The sound of engines startled Betty and she turned to find the source; at the other end of the parking lot where the staff spaces were, an expensive looking car was parked at an angle. There was nothing special about the car except its sleek exterior; definitely a rich person's ride. It was bright red and looked a sight sitting under the blaring sun. Though it wasn't the car that held her attention. What did send her nerve endings on fire, igniting every cell inside of her alight, was the all too familiar boy teetering on the sidewalk. Jughead. Once again, his head was inclined rather adorably, strands of raven curls slipping from his knitted beanie. There was a faint smile on his face, inquisitive eyes on whoever was in the back of the car. Betty nearly turned away, dismissing him. It was his father, she thought. He was getting picked up from school.
But then Betty saw what was hanging in the boy's arms; a blur of blue and gold, the unmistakable colours of the Bulldog Letterman jacket.
Slowly, she took a shaky step towards his direction to get a closer look. Jughead started forwards, taking slow steps, like he wasn't sure. Betty glimpsed a flash of obsidian hair, Vixen coloured ribbons flitting in the breeze. The girl had her head stuck out of the car, an eager grin spread across her lips. She was gesturing for the boy to get in.
Veronica Gomez.
Betty didn't need to stand there much longer to know the third person who had jumped in the back of the car. Fred's words echoed in the back of her mind; "They've found us." Archie's name was choked up in Betty's throat, and she knew it should have been the one to spout from her mouth in a startled cry. But it wasn't him.
"Jughead!" Her phone slipped from her grasp, hitting the concrete with a loud crack, but Betty didn't care. The world seemed to go in slow motion, and yet she wasn't fast enough. When Jughead disappeared behind a window of tinted glass, the door sliding shut on its own, the sleek car shot off down the road, forcing Betty to stumble to an abrupt halt. Kidnapped, Betty thought hysterically. Her mom and sister, and now her neighbour and two other kids - one of them happening to be her crush- had just been kidnapped in broad daylight.
For a moment, Betty stood stiff, panting, her gaze glued to the cloud of exhaust the car had left behind; her head spinning when she backtracked, frantic eyes searching for her phone. She didn't have much hope for it but despite having a totalled screen, Betty knew she would still be able to call the police. Taking slow steps, swallowing the urge to scream or to cry until her lungs were on fire, she scanned rough concrete. When she couldn't find it, Betty fell to her knees and started to crawl, grasping for the iPhone like the lifeline it was.
"Are you looking for this?"
Betty's head snapped up, her gaze finding a figure looming over her, half of their face hidden in shadow. Betty blinked and the silhouette bled into a real person, features coming into focus, sandy coloured hair spiked up a little, and green eyes that Betty had always seen as friendly. Now, however, they had an unfamiliar cruel glimmer, a smirk curled on his lips. Kevin Keller, the sheriff's son. They had never really talked, the two of them always in different classes. Sometimes when she was in Pops, Kevin would come over and talk about World Of Warcraft but she never really listened; instead tuning him out and watching Jughead in the booth in-front chomp his way through three burgers courtesy of Pop himself.
In Kevin's hand was her phone which had a pretty nasty crack splitting the screen, but it was still working; the home screen picture she had of her and Polly during vacation last year staring back at her. "Kevin," her voice cracked, and when Betty was sure she wasn't going to faint, she got up shakily, reaching for the phone. "What are you doing here?"
Kevin didn't hand over the phone. Instead, he pulled it back, holding it in the air like a toddler playing games. His gaze was on the road. "Pity," he murmured with an exaggerated sigh. "Did you know them?" Betty swallowed. He knew. Kevin had seen the kidnapping, and the boy looked almost...triumphant. She grabbed for her phone but he snatched it back.
"Know who?" Betty hissed out. "Give me my phone!"
The boy raised a brow. "Of course you know them," he chuckled, leaning forward. "Sweet, oblivious Jughead who still can't tell you have a raging crush on him, and Archie your neighbour, who is starry eyed for the little freak. A love triangle I'd hate to be in. Imagine that! You're in love with your best friend's little crush." Before Betty could speak, Kevin snapped his fingers. "Oh, and the cheerleader. Veronica Gomez," he hummed, her name sounded like poison on his tongue. "I saw her mom get shot in the head this morning." Kevin grimaced. "Not a pretty sight. There was blood everywhere, Betts." He winked. "As for Fred Andrews...well, we actually need his brain."
Betty stared at the boy. She couldn't move, her legs were aching, head spinning. "Give me my phone," she whispered, fighting the urge to shuffle away from him.
"Nah." Kevin dropped the phone again and when Betty shrieked, he stamped down on the screen. If the phone wasn't broken before, it was now. "I've got a question for you." He crouched in front of her. "You and your sister," he said, "as well as Andrews, Gomez and the sad little orphan." He wiped away a stray tear trickling down Betty's cheek. "What do you guys have in common?"
Betty couldn't help it. Fighting back the urge to question Kevin on the whereabouts of
Fred Andrews and her family, as well as her classmates, she swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Kevin chuckled, and she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"Rats, Betty," he murmured. There were footsteps behind her; ones that she recognised, getting closer. But she refused to turn around, refused to believe that they were part of this. Instead, she stared at Kevin, trying to find compassion or sympathy in his eyes. Except, Betty saw nothing. The boy shook his head, an amused smirk curving on his lips.
"You're just rats."
Jughead knew his mind was failing him, memories that he was desperately trying to cling onto, slipping into the dark. His name, for instance, kept getting caught in the whirlwind of his thoughts. It was alphabet soup on his tongue when he tried to say it out loud, almost like it was a foreign language. His own name, his identity and who he was; it was alien to him. Something that didn't feel right. But he held on. No matter how many shots Mr Jones gave him, sticking needles into the back of his head. He clawed through the sheet of fog enveloping his brain, and forced his name into fruition.
Jughead. He told himself, as well as the relentless pull, the hungry tumour eating everything. He was Jughead. Even if he didn't feel like himself, like the name fleeting around in his skull, that was his name. It was who he was, and Jughead wasn't letting it go without a fight.
He liked to consider himself as lucky. Ironically, the ones with actual lives and names attached to parents that loved them had failed to hold onto themselves. The redhead, the one who spoke into his mind...what was his name again? Like his own name, Jughead struggled to remember the names of the kids trapped with him.
The jock, Jughead thought. He was the one who had gotten him into this mess in the first place; Mr Jones knew his father and he had been an intended target, he and the raven haired girl were just...bonuses - two more minds he could play with. Jughead imagined vivid blue and gold clashing with startling crimson, bathed in almost heavenly light from the sun. The smile on his face. That stupid smile he couldn't resist saying yes to. The boy was his first real friend. The first person who had seen him as Jughead and not Forsythe the orphan. Archie. The name came slowly, like it was crawling back if only just for a second. Jughead held onto it with both hands. The redhead's name... it was Archie.
Archie Andrews. That was his name; the sullen looking redhead with brown eyes glowing the same light that took over his own, when Jughead was brave enough to look at his reflection. Archie's most recent blossoming ability was what Mr Jones called "Jumping".
The boy could jump into bodies like a ghost, dancing across each one like it was that easy, binding himself to their mind and soul. But when they were alone at night at the end of an endless day of testing, he whispered into Jughead's mind, demanding answers to questions he couldn't answer. If Jughead really wanted to, he could tell Archie his name, but Mr Jones was strict. If they said their names, or gave any inclination of their old identities, they were punished; and he and Archie weren't alone. There was the cheerleader too. Her bright smile was still alive in his memory but it didn't match the girl curled up in their glass cage. Her name? He didn't know. The girl with the Siren scream, raven straggled curls and hollow blue eyes; the girl whose pain he felt, as well as Archie's. Though pain, like his name, was almost a foreign concept to him now.
It meant nothing to Jughead these days, unless it was administered by Mr Jones. He didn't feel normal pain, because he couldn't. Whatever had been done to him, giving his skin the ability to patch itself back together, had also taken away anything remotely human he had left. He felt pain but only when it was forced onto him, when he couldn't fight it, strapped to Mr Jones's chair in his lab, a strip of duct tape over his mouth to stop him screaming. Once his ability had come through, shining through him in sharp spikes of cerulean light, Mr Jones was determined to find out just how bullet proof he really was.
None of that, however, could compare to what he was feeling at that moment. Even the cruel tests he was forced to go through barely scratched the surface, knowing his name was bleeding away; the kids, his fellow lab rats, becoming strangers the longer his mind was eaten away at. None of it could even touch what he was feeling right now.
"You know what to do, Boy. She is a failure."
Mr Jones's voice was a gruff grunt. The man stood behind him, ice cold breath grazing the back of Jughead's neck, sending all the hairs sticking up, shivers racking his body.
Jughead stood very still, staring down at the palms of his hands still writhing with electric blue light. He was shaking, the pain he should have felt, the pain in his heart for the girl, was non-existent. There were other physical sensations, like the hole in the back of his head where the bullet had penetrated his skull, but he didn't feel them. Jughead knew he had been shot at point blank range by Mr Jones. It was part of his tests, after all; Just how far could they push his ability? And yet despite hearing the shot, and feeling the bullet pierce his cranium, he still felt nothing. Because before he could feel something, the pain and trauma, his body began to stitch him back up like it had never happened. Jughead already had his life lain out for him. According to his captor, he was going to become something far better, the next step in human evolution.
He was a miracle, Mr Jones had gushed. A success.
The girl in front of him, however, splayed across the metal gurney, lying in a halo of golden curls. She wasn't like him, hadn't passed Mr Jones's tests on her body and mind, inhuman modifications attempting to turn her into a freak. Just like him.
She was a failure.
"Her body rejected the serum," Mr Jones announced from behind him. He let out a deep sigh, like it was an inconvenience, "As usual I continued on, thinking she would pull through. But no. Unfortunately, I could not convert her, and she suffered a brain haemorrhage, killing her immediately. Which is such a pity, considering her sister did so well."
The man's words weren't fully registering in Jughead's mind. The girl in front of him had a name, one that he held onto as much as he did Archie and the cheerleader. She was the fantasy he kept hidden in his mind, the girl who sent his heart volleying into his throat every time they made eye contact on the school hallway; sunshine hair and cornflower blue eyes, a smile that melted his heart. The overwhelming urge to talk to her properly, ask her to homecoming, had been a constant intrusive thought. But Jughead felt safe under the bleachers, curled up with his DS. Talking to her was coming away from that place of comfort and showing himself to the freshman class. He just couldn't do it.
Even for her.
The girl was Elizabeth Cooper. Mr Jones's fifth subject. She looked different today. Her skin was still ghostly white, splashes of dark cardinal staining her ears and neck. She still wore her pink sweater, but it was too much colour, especially on a dead girl. Elizabeth had been inside the lab for days, ever since Mr Jones had brought her in. According to the man himself, the girl and her sister had been separate projects. Jughead caught Archie frowning at her sometimes, what might have been a hint of recognition, quickly replaced with the same vacant, cavernous eyes that stared right through him.
The dead girl, was what Archie called her, muttering into his thoughts; Do you know the dead girl? Did I know the dead girl? Who is the dead girl?
Archie did know her. Enough for the boy to gush childhood stories about the two of them in the initial days of their kidnapping. They were stories to get them to sleep.
Now, however, the girl was a stranger to the redhead. Whatever bond they shared shattering into pieces.
Archie's thoughts were like a hurricane baring down on his mind. The boy had no outlet, no lips to cry out with, so he did so in his mind, projecting his thoughts into Jughead's. It was like a one-sided call. One sided, because despite having the telepathic ability talk back, he couldn't. All he heard was the boy's soft moan through the static, asking his name, asking the cheerleader's name...the dead girl...
Dead, Jughead thought. His eyes burned, but no tears came. He longed to reach out and touch her, give her some kind of reassurance that everything was fine. Except- it wasn't. She was dead. Mr Jones had killed her, and all she was right then, was a shell.
"Boy, are you even listening to me?" Mr Jones strode towards the table, slamming his hands down on the surface, narrowly missing Elizabeth's head.
Jughead jumped, nodding, choking on a cry. He blinked himself back to reality, his gaze flicking up at the overhead light which was far too bright. The stale taste of vomit still tainted his tongue, and the stink of disinfectant in the air twisted his gut into knots. It was rare when he was allowed out of the glass cage. He let his hands drop to his sides, the blue glow still lighting up his palms dulling to flickering indigo.
"I...yes. Yes, Mr Jones."
Mr Jones had escorted him to a second room, one he hadn't been inside before. It was different to the usual testing rooms. There was no dentist chair like contraption. Instead, all that was inside was the gurney cradling Elizabeth Cooper's body.
Cringing at the feeling of ice cold marble slithering between his bare toes, Jughead straightened up and steeled himself. The paper-thin scrubs-like clothes he had been wearing were uncomfortable, chafing on his skin.
"Good." Mr Jones murmured. "Now, I'm going to call you Prototype Two. Do you understand me? Your name should have gone by now. If not now, very soon. You seem to be clinging on, though there are ways I can make the process faster." his eyes hardened, and Jughead had to clamp his mouth shut to suppress a scream. Archie and the cheerleader had let go so easily, allowing Mr Jones to dig into their heads and take what was theirs, what they held dear to them. He refused to be the same. When Jughead fought to avoid eye-contact, casting his eyes to the ground, the man grabbed his chin and forced Jughead to look at him. Jughead did, blinking back tears. Which was good, he thought dizzily.
Tears meant he could feel. Tears meant he was still human.
Barely.
"Do you understand me, Prototype Two?"
"Yes."
Mr Jones grunted. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Mr Jones."
Cocking his head, the man hummed, tightening his grip on Jughead's chin. "Do you feel anything for her, Prototype Two?"
"No." He said far too quickly, maintaining a blank look, holding Mr Jones's gaze. "No, sir. I don't feel anything."
"Do you feel this?" Mr Jones murmured, protruding his fingernails into Jughead's flesh. Jughead did feel it, but there was no pain; only the phantom sensation.
"No." He said again, his voice wobbling.
The man hummed. "As you shouldn't, Prototype Two. Emotion will be the last to go in your final remodelling," he searched Jughead's eyes, scanning for just a glimmer of feeling, feelings that were very much still alive inside of him, turning his heart inside out. "Elizabeth Cooper is Alice's daughter. Thankfully, Alice Cooper is of course working for me. With some persuasion, she is blissfully unaware of my plans for her daughters."
Jughead didn't speak. If he did, he was scared he would throw up the nutrition vitamins he'd had forced down his throat earlier. He wanted to ask what exactly he had done to Betty Cooper; there was so much blood, staining the smooth, pale skin of her neck, slithers of crimson pooling endlessly like rivers, painting the girl scarlet.
"Polly Cooper shines," Mr Jones said, with a sparkle in his eyes, a glint of lunacy. "She was my first success. The reason why you have been blessed with an incredible gift."
Or a curse, Jughead felt like spitting in the man's face. This wasn't a gift. Being slowly drained of his memories and constantly being told he was going to be a soldier, was not a gift. Dying over and over again, only to come back seconds later like nothing had happened; it wasn't a gift. For Archie, his ability caused him to collapse regularly, whether that was standing or sitting. He'd just crumple to the ground, his eyes rolling back; letting out a sharp breath, like his soul was being sucked out. With no body to go into, the boy regained consciousness. But Jughead saw the fear in his eyes; the confusion and pain. The cheerleader. Every time she screamed, it hurt, and she cried. Sometimes her tears were tinged red, and she couldn't stop it. The Siren screech controlled her.
They weren't gifted, Jughead thought sourly. They were cursed.
Finally, Mr Jones released him, and he let out a sharp breath of relief. "I would like to test something out, though." His lips twisted into a smirk. "After all, you have a gift. It would be quite a waste for both you and me if you didn't at least try it out."
Before Jughead could try and speak, his gaze flitting to Betty Cooper, to her closed eyes, her ashen cheeks, Mr Jones continued, "You have the ability to heal yourself from every injury I have bestowed on you, Prototype Two," he said, "Now, resuscitate the girl."
"What?" He couldn't help it, the word flying from his mouth before he could bite it back.
"I fitted you with perfect hearing, I'm sure you know what I said," Mr Jones said sharply, "as for talking back, I hope you don't make a habit of it, Prototype Two."
Jughead, he felt like snapping back. His name was Jughead!
"Now." Mr Jones shoved him towards the table. "I will take you through it, Boy. First, gently lift her head."
I can't, were the words in his throat. Except he didn't have a choice. Swallowing hard, Jughead rounded the table and did as he was told, sliding his palms beneath her head.
"Well done, Prototype Two." Mr Jones nodded. "Now, it's simple. Just do what you do when you heal yourself, and channel it into Elizabeth."
But she's dead! He wanted to cry out. She is dead! There's no bringing her back!
"Yes, Mr Jones." Jughead all but whimpered. When he healed himself, it was more of an automatic reaction from his body. Trying to do it to someone else, no, trying to bring someone back from the dead, was very different. Mr Jones's steely gaze was stuck to him, so Jughead closed his eyes, willing his ability to life. When his hands ignited with iridescent light, Jughead held on, gritting his teeth through a cry ripping him apart.
"Wonderful!" Mr Jones praised. "Now, find her wounds, and ease yourself into them. Slip inside her, but gently, Prototype Two. You don't want to overwhelm her."
Jughead's heart was in his throat as his fingers danced across the back of her head, finding the ugly hole penetrating her skull, where the needle had pierced. Nodding to the man, he pressed his fingers against the damage, fighting back the urge to run his fingers through her sunshine hair. The feeling was like an electric shock buzzing inside of him. Looking down, Jughead stared, as the wound very slowly began to knit itself back together, brand new flesh crawling across the old cardinal. He couldn't resist a gasp, lifting his head, his eyes flashing the same light bathing the girl's unmoving body.
"I..." Jughead's eyes flickered, and he watched the radiance prickle down her arms and legs, her torso, seeping deeper and deeper inside of her, mending what was broken, putting the shattered pieces of Elizabeth Cooper back together.
"Keep going." Mr Jones growled. "Do not let her go."
Jughead couldn't. Even if he wanted to- which he didn't- he felt everything. Every echo of her brain that slowly began to awaken, her heart igniting to life. He felt all of her, everything she was. But as the minutes went by, and Elizabeth's chest started to rise and fall once more, Jughead felt something warm drip from his nose, and land on her forehead.
The contrast of her skin and his blood, bright crimson on smooth porcelain, was startling to Jughead. Only for a second, however. Panic began to rise inside of him.
"You're almost there." Mr Jones's voice sounded faded, like it was underwater.
Nodding, Jughead focused on the girl. He closed his eyes, willing the process to go faster. But the more he forced it, the energy flowed deeper, filling the girl's mind, inviting him glimpses of memories that he shouldn't be able to see. It was like looking inside a foggy mirror; he saw Archie, a blur of red in the black and white picture which was her memories. The boy was speaking, and Jughead missed it so much- Archie's real voice, he dived deeper without thinking of the consequences that went with it.
A voice. Which was exactly what Jughead wanted. It was faded, but still there, the memory caught between both his and Elizabeth's mind; "Jughead's pretty cool, I guess."
What? Her inside voice, bringing the memory to life. Wait, no. No, there's no way Archie likes him. There's no way.
More voices. They were all her, but scattered fragments drifting in her broken mind.
He saw a classroom, and automatically recognised it; middle school. In fact, he knew that exact day. Midge Klump. Cake. The girl's memory was exactly the same, except from her point of view, was... him. Jughead saw himself sitting alone, chomping through the cake he'd been given. He figured Betty happened to glance at him, but no. Through her eyes, there was just him. While her voice echoed between both minds, creeping further inside of him. "Maybe that's when I got my first butterflies for him..." she sounded melancholic and whimsical. "Archie deserves him. Besides, he said he liked Jughead first."
"Prototype Two!"
Mr Jones's voice sliced through their temporary connection, bringing Jughead to fruition.
All at once, Betty's memories flashed out of existence, and Jughead's eyes flew open. He was dizzy, nauseous, but...smiling. There was a faint smile on his lips that he couldn't explain, even if he tried. Before he could gush out some kind of apology, he quickly came to realise his hands were blazing blue; incredible light blinding him.
"What have you done?!" Mr Jones yelled. "Release her, quickly!"
Jughead wasn't sure what was happening for a second, before he looked down, and once again, fresh blood was seeping from the girl's nostrils. But not just that. Her eyes were wide open, but unseeing, glaring cerulean. His hands slipped from her head, and she flopped back down, the light in her eyes flickering out, before they snapped shut.
"You've overwhelmed her." Mr Jones stated. "Elizabeth's mind rejects the serum. I wanted you to bring her back gently, by healing her wounds. Not filling her with energy."
Jughead's gaze went to the girl, who was breathing. Blood still seeped from her nose, but it was stopping. "I didn't mean to." He managed to choke out. But that was a lie. He did mean to. Once inside of her, it was euphoria, feeling her body come back to life under his touch; delving inside Betty's memories was an accident, but part of him, the human part still clinging on, was almost...giddy. Betty Cooper, the girl who he had held close to his heart, was in fact regularly thinking about him. His head was spinning.
But in...a good way.
Suddenly, the idea of losing himself, losing his name, his identity and Archie, as well as... Betty. Betty, and the feelings she had for him.
It hurt. Real pain clenched his chest.
"I brought her back." Jughead choked out, taking a wary step from the table.
"Indeed you did," Mr Jones snapped. "But you also filled her with enough energy to combust her brain, which already rejected it." The man's eyes darkened. "Indigo energy is very powerful and Elizabeth has proved not once, but twice, that she is practically allergic to it."
"I don't understand-"
"Let me put this simply," Mr Jones said, "Elizabeth Cooper is a failure. It will only take one more bout of energy inside of her, before her body and mind combust, and Alice's daughter or not, you will not be bringing her back the next time."
"But-"
"But? I'm sorry, are you questioning me, Boy?" Mr Jones's head snapped up, lips curling. "I didn't create you to ask questions, Prototype Two. Now, do as I say, or I will happily tear you apart piece by piece, just to put you back together, being fully conscious, of course." A sickening smile spread across his lips, "You might not be able to feel pain any more, but I'm sure you would rather not like to see your own innards."
Swallowing hard, Jughead nodded. Even when he knew that Mr Jones would go through with his threat whether he stood down or not. "Yes, Mr Jones."
"Good." The man said. "Elizabeth will stay under my watch, while I maintain the facade of Alice Cooper's boyfriend," he smirked a little. "After Hal Cooper met a most unfortunate end, of course." He cleared his throat. "As for the girl, since she cannot be turned into a prototype like her sister, she will live blissfully unaware of the energy inside of her. Once settled, it will lay dormant. If she is exposed to it once again, it will either manifest inside her, or kill her. I can guarantee the latter, since she failed the initial conversion. And when that happens, Prototype Two, I will have no choice but to dispose of her." Mr Jones's gaze flicked to the girl. "I'm sure the Lodge's could pull some strings. Just like with Freddie's and Carolina's kids, it'll be like she never existed."
Jughead was nodding. He wasn't sure why, just nod, nod, nodding to everything Mr Jones was saying, despite his heart breaking into pieces. A heart that shouldn't do that, because he was barely human anymore. At least, that's what Mr Jones told him. Jughead's gaze was stuck to the blonde. He felt sick. The man had no problem killing her, and then plunging her existence into oblivion. "Of course, I don't want to do it," Mr Jones continued. "Elizabeth is Alice's daughter. I'm allowing her a second chance."
A second chance. Jughed almost laughed, pieces of him burning with envy. Betty Cooper was allowed to be human, allowed to live a normal life, narrowly escaping becoming a rat.
While he was being turned into an emotionless soldier.
"You looked into her mind, Boy," Mr Jones said. "What did you see? He mind must be wiped of everything, including my testing. Anyone she knew, related to this project. The memories of her sister have already been dealt with, thanks to our master manipulator."
Jughead couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.
"Answer me, Boy!"
He was replying before he could stop himself, thinking back to her memories; the blur of crimson. "Archie. I...I mean Prototype One."
Nodding, Mr Jones folded his arms. "Remove all traces of Prototype One from her mind."
Jughead's mind was a whirlwind. "I can't-"
"Yes you can. If you can get inside her memories, you can remove them."
No, Jughead almost said. But he didn't. With real tears stinging his eyes, he slid his hands under the blonde's head once more. "Me." he said, forcing his voice to be bland and emotionless. If he was losing Betty and Archie and his name, his life, then Jughead would let go. He would stop fighting the memory drain and let Mr Jones pick his brain apart.
"You?" The man spluttered out a laugh. It should have hurt, but he wouldn't let it. "Why on earth would YOU be in her mind?"
Ignoring the man, Jughead cradled the the girl's head once more. He pushed down anything he felt for the girl, all those feelings he had desperately clung onto. "How do I remove them?"
Mr Jones's expression lit up. "Do exactly the same as you did before, except envision pulling each memory apart. Do not take mercy, Prototype Two. Drain her."
"Yes, Mr Jones." He sensed his eyes light up once more.
Just like before, Jughead delved into her mind, gently this time, making sure only prickles of his ability touched her. Once again, her mind lit up, florescent with memories. Archie. Jughead saw the boy in snapshots growing up, from a five year old boy with a gap tooth, to ten, playing football over his fence through the perspective of a small hole drilled into mahogany wood. Then; a much older Archie, downing a whole milkshake in one, whipped cream fraying grinning lips. Following Mr Jones's instructions, Jughead focused on each memory, instead of revisiting it, tearing it from her mind, and crushing it into dust. It was surprisingly easy, like plucking apples from a barrel.
Betty jolted underneath him, letting out a soft moan, her body trembling under his touch, almost like she was pleading with him to stop. But he didn't stop. Jughead grabbed each memory, colourful balls of light, pulling them apart, until they were grey and lifeless, fragmented into nothing. "What are you doing?"
The voice startled him. Jughead was caught off guard, and looked down, only to find Betty Cooper's eyes open, sparks of indigo light circling her iris. the blonde was staring up at him, a knot of confusion between her brows. He could sense the cavern where Archie had been, leaving her wallowing in nothing, in darkness that felt wrong, like something, or someone, was supposed to be there. Betty blinked rapidly, confusion making way for fear.
"What's going on?" her voice was a soft squeak, and once again, Jughead was struggling to push down his humanity. "It's okay," he said softly. "You're okay, Betty."
"No." Betty said softly. "Where's..." her expression fell, and tears sparkled in her eyes. "Polly." she whimpered. "Polly...oh god, she... she's dead."
"That's right, Elizabeth." Mr Jones's voice was surprisingly soft. "Your sister died in a horrific fire. Your father left. He couldn't deal with losing his daughter."
Betty nodded, choking on tears, and Jughead half wondered if his healing ability could mend a shattered heart.
"Get on with it, Prototype Two." Mr Jones spat.
"What?" Betty cocked her head, tears trailing down her cheeks. "Jughead?"
"Do it!" Mr Jones thundered, before Jughead could answer. Instead of talking to the girl, telling her to hold onto Archie as much as she could, and then him, Jughead sucked in a breath. "Just relax." he said, attempting to go back in, finding every trace of himself.
Except Betty shook her head. "No." she said, trying to sit up, but he pulled her back down. "No, there was someone..I...I can't-"
"Yes." Jughead finally spluttered, and her frenzied gaze flicked by to him. "I will go to homecoming with you, Betty Cooper."
Her blue eyes widened, his words relaxing her enough to send him back in, traversing the black and white, where Archie was, and false memories of a fire began to ignite.
"I'll pick you up at 7:30." He said softly, "You'll wear your favourite dress, and I'll wear a tux." tears were slipping down his cheeks now, and he couldn't stop them. But if it was his last crying as Jughead, before he became Prototype Two, then so be it.
"Really?" Betty's voice was a soft murmur, and she was smiling, blinking up at him. "You would do that?"
He nodded, spinning out the story of their night. "You look beautiful." he whispered.
She chuckled, her eyes flickering, while he tore each memory apart, every time she had seen him, thought about him, all those fantasies and thoughts that danced around, Jugehad pulled into the dark. Betty's eyes were rolling back, but he tightened his grip. "We dance..." he continued, "to some stupid pop song that I probably hate, and I hold you, and we talk, Betty. We talk about everything and nothing, and I start..."
Jughead choked up then. But Betty, even when the memories were dispersing, she frowned up at him. "You start falling in love with me."
He didn't speak, but nodded.
"That's enough." Mr Jones snapped. "Prototype Two, are you aware that-"
"Just let me have this." Jughead managed to say, and it was speaking freely, talking back. But he didn't care. Betty's eyes were closed now, and glancing up at Mr Jones, he knew his work was done. But he didn't let go. Jughead pushed himself back inside her mind, just to check, to make sure that he had left just a flicker of what was lost.
Not a memory, which was too dangerous; the smallest spark, which if coaxed, would hopefully reignite.
Finally, he let her go, and Betty's head fell away, lolling to the side. Her expression was peaceful, and Jughead found himself smiling once again, because now, he could finally let go.
Mr Jones was grabbing him before he could fight back, which he didn't. He was dragged back to the basement, shoved behind the glass, while his head spun itself off if its axis, The Pull finally taking hold. Jughead didn't remember falling to his knees with a sharp gasp. He didn't remember the redhead Joining him, wide brown eyes asking him what was wrong, his voice slipping into his mind. What's wrong? Are you okay?
The boy didn't give up, slamming him with questions which were all the same; What happened? Did you find out my name? Did Mr Jones tell you who we are?
He didn't answer, staring into space, his back against the wall. All at once, the redhead next to him became a stranger. The raven haired girl curled up on the other side of the glass cage, was nobody. There were tears slipping down his cheeks, but he didn't know why. Didn't know... why. Why? The boy's eyes shot open, a lot more vacant and confused, blue light once more igniting in his pupils, and dancing across the palms of his hands.
One thought dominated his mind, slowly growing, until it was crying out.
What was his name again?
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