Chapter Two

Betty

I take comfort in knowing that Jughead isn't going to move his arm from me until I pull away. Sometimes I think that he is the only thing that keeps me from completely imploding. We have been standing in the main entrance to the police station for over an hour. They have been questioning him. Jughead has been almost silent the entire time. He thinks he is hiding it but I can feel his fingers shaking on the edge of my shirt. I lean my head on his shoulder. I hear him sigh, possibly in relief that I am closer to him.

"Jughead," I whisper.

"Hm?" he asks.

"You're shaking," I whisper back. He takes a deep breath and squeezes me a little. But I can hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm alright," he promises. "Just worried about him."

"You don't like it here," I tell him. He nods against my head, probably messing up my perfect ponytail but I pretend not to care at the moment. Instead, I put my hand on his chest so I can feel his pounding heartbeat.

"No. I've never had a good experience here," he admits.

"I guess not," I agree.

"He's been in there for a long time. I wasn't there for long. I told them I wanted a lawyer. The truth is, I didn't know what to do. I was just scared so I said that so I wouldn't say anything stupid."

"It was the right thing to do, Jug. It was smart," I assure him, squeezing his body just a little bit, tracing patterns with my finger on his chest. I can still feel his heart but his breathing slows down, becoming normal as he realizes that talking about this might not be the best thing to do. But he doesn't stop. The thoughts can't leave his mind.

"But he's talking, Betty," Juggie says.

"He'll be alright," I try to assure. But I am not sure. I am scared. Probably a lot more scared than Jughead. I have no idea what he is going through but I do know that Archie is probably saying things that don't make sense.

"What if he says something stupid? What if he says something that he doesn't think is incriminating but is? I mean, they twist words around and ask the same question three different ways to get you to say something that sounds wrong," he says.

"You're right. But we can't do anything about it," I say.

"No, we can't."

Sheriff asshole comes out of the room and walks over to us. He looks angry. He always looks angry. When he sees us both, he rolls his eyes.

"Can I talk to him?" I ask.

"No," he says.

"You can't do that. Unless he's convicted, we can talk to him," Jughead says, dropping his arm from around me and leaving me cold and worried. He steps in front of me, toward the sheriff.

"Are you trying to tell me about the law, Jones?" he asks.

"I just did."

"Jughead," I warn, scared for him. I need him here with me. If we are going to get Archie back, we need everyone that we have left.

"Fine. She can see him," the sheriff says, looking at me. I nod, putting my hand on Jugs. He turns around and looks at me. His eyes are narrowed. His lips are parted slightly and his chest is rising with caution.

"It's okay, Jug," I promise. "I can tell you everything when I come back out."

"He's my friend too," he says.

"Yes, he is. For right now, just let me see him and then you will. We'll figure it out, Juggie," I promise. He nods, knowing that this is the best choice. We can't just go off the handle acting crazy and angry in a police station. We can't make a scene, especially not when he is an out serpent.

"Go," he says with a nod. "I'll be here."

"He was asking for Veronica," Sheriff says.

"She's been on the phone with her dad. She's outside," I tell him.

He nods and then opens the door for me. I find Archie sitting with his head on the table and his hands shaking flat against the surface. I can see his entire body trembling. He doesn't even look up when he hears the door open, just flinches. I wonder what they did to him. What did they ask to make it so horrible? I want to say something but I can't make my mouth move. It is too dry.

Instead of talking, I put my hand on his shoulder. He looks up and his face breaks, shatters right there in front of me. Tears fall down his cheeks.

"Betty," he mumbles in a cracked voice.

I open my arms to him and he stands up, falling into me. I feel his body shake as he puts his head on my shoulder. I hold the weight of my best friend up, feeling like I might be crushed under it. But this is what he needs.

"I'm so sorry, Archie," I say in his ear.

"I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't kill anyone," he says as that familiar panic now hits his chest instead of mine. But Jug was right, panicking is not going to help Archie. It is just going to hurt the person feeling it.

"I know. We all know that. Everyone said that they know you didn't do it. You didn't do anything. We are going to get you out of here," I assure.

He doesn't say anything. He lets me hug him for several minutes. We are standing together, holding each other like the friends that we are. I missed being there for him. But now, he needs me to be. His body is shaking and sobbing, so scared and probably partially embarrassed, being accused of something so terrible that I know he would never do. But he is scared that other people might think he did it.

"What do I do, Betty?" he asks, looking down at me, wiping his face off with the back of his hand. Unlike with Veronica or Jughead, I have seen him cry before, even over stupid stuff. I have seen him through his bedroom window for years. We know each other like no one else does.

"You tell the truth. You ask for a lawyer and you listen to that person. We already called your mom. She's on her way here. You keep calm and you answer the questions you know," I tell him.

He shakes his head, looking fearful and worried. I watch as he breathes heavily, trying to remember how to be normal again. I know that feeling well. I had Jug to help me get rid of it. He had no one for an hour while he felt it.

"Where's Ronnie?" he asks.

"She's outside talking on the phone with her dad," I tell him. "But we're all here, Archie."

"Jughead?"

"He's here too. Your dad, Jughead, Ronnie, FP. Your mom is on her way. They are all here, Archie. You aren't alone," I promise.

He nods, standing before me as vulnerable as one person might be able to become. His head is tilted, his eyes are watery, his face is sad, his body is shaking. Everything about him is under stress.

"I was so scared, Betty," he admits.

"I know. The questioning…it wasn't fair. You had every right to be scared. But it's over for right now. We're gonna get you through this. All of us."

He nods.

But he looks scared again. Scared enough for me to try to help him. I lean forward and open my arms. I fall into him letting our arms fall around each other. We hug for several more minutes as he tries to calm himself. I can hear his heart beating. I can feel his thundering pulse against my own chest.

"We're gonna get you through this," I promise. "We are all going to get through this. It's alright."

"Thank you, Betty," he whispers.

"Don't thank me. That's what friends are for."