Thank you so much for all of your reviews! Poor Jughead - all he wanted was to see a couple movies and eat a burger. Instead, he got one movie, a party he never wanted, every jerk in school crashing said party, Archie's drunk, a fight with Betty that seems destined to ruin their new relationship and oh yeah, CHUCK is here.

Many of you asked "Why would Betty throw him a party? Shouldn't she know better?" I asked the same damn thing when the show did it. Betty will explain herself, promise. I'm honestly more mad at Archie because Jughead told him the reason why he hates his birthday and he didn't just tell BETTY that.

ToxicLove07 and Guest - Reading how you both marathoned this whole story in a sitting broke my brain. Welcome! Hope this latest chapter lives up to your Bughead expectations.

Song: Failing the Rorschach Test - Matthew Good Band

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Any dialogue borrowed is for continuity and context and belongs to Riverdale.


Seventeen: Failing the Rorschach Test

"Hey, Alice - I'm caving in, I'm caving in
I know it's not allowed but sometimes,
I fantasize I'm peeling off my skin
Enough to fill it up again...

Mother told me to be something
So I'm afraid, enough to stay wide awake..."

Failing the Rorschach Test - Matthew Good Band

Three hours ago

Cheryl's so-called game was a circle jerk of bullying, as best Jughead could tell. And while he tried to pay attention to the furious opening volley between herself and Veronica—something about Hiram Lodge buying the Twilight?—his sole focus was on Betty.

Betty had been ushered to the front of the crowd by Reggie, insisting she deserved a front row seat. Kevin had protested, but ultimately was overpowered by other Bulldogs sticking up for their teammate. Hands folded in her lap, she sat next to Archie, who was sobering up fast in Cheryl's wake. Particularly as Dilton Doiley decided he wanted to play along.

"I saw Miss Grundy's car by Sweetwater River, the day Jason went missing," he offered up. "I told Jughead this fact, yet it's never been reported in the Blue and Gold. And let's not forget that Archie was also at Sweetwater River that morning."

And there it was: Archie's secret was out. Cheryl, quickly putting two and two together, reveled in the scandalous implications.

"Is that why you became a mediocre musician overnight?"

Archie remained silent, arms folded across his chest.

"Damn, Andrews was banging a teacher?" Chuck strolled across the room, edging closer to Archie—and Betty, by proximity. "You should have shared with the team. We love keeping track of our conquests."

"Classy, Chuck," Veronica spat. "Although half of your conquests are made up, aren't they? And by the way, Cheryl, Archie did share with the team—your precious brother was also hot for teacher. Tell us: we know how much you loved Jason. Did you love him a little too much, maybe? Enough to put a bullet between his eyes with your daddy's hunting rifle?"

Jughead was no stranger to the 'twincest' rumours at school, but even he was surprised Veronica had gone there.

"Now, now, let's not get off-topic," Chuck admonished the crowd. "You see, knowing about Miss Grundy's affairs has shed new light on my secret. Or rather, Betty Cooper's secret."

"Leave her the hell alone, Chuck!" Archie snapped, rising to his feet.

Chuck's hand clamped down on the ginger's shoulder, shoving him back into his chair. "Sit down, Andrews! I think you'll appreciate this sin coming to light." Glancing over his shoulder at Jughead, he smirked. "You may want to take notes for the paper."

Betty was ashen, her eyes glazed over and unseeing. This was it. This was everything she'd been afraid of for months. And, if Jughead was reading between the lines, it had something to do with Miss Grundy's affairs. Had she not told them the truth about last May?

"Look, you may get a free peepshow every night, but you do not know her. Hell, Betty doesn't know herself." Chuck stood over her and Jughead pushed off the table behind him, ready to lunge. "You see, for weeks last spring, dear Betty was acting strangely. Disappearing for long hours after school. Never answering her phone. Claiming she was with Veronica. But one night, I was staring at Veronica and Archie talking at Pop's while sweet, innocent Betty was telling me she was studying at the Pembrooke."

"My friends already know, Chuck," Betty lied. "They don't care."

"Oh, do they know?" Chuck mused. "I doubt you've told them, but even if you have, I'm sure our classmates would like to know why our music teacher quit mid-semester."

Chuck circled the group, studying each of Betty's friends in turn as he continued his story.

"I followed Betty one night to Miss Grundy's house. Veronica was with her. They went inside for ten minutes, and came out angry. Veronica drove off, but Betty…" Chuck laughed, shaking his head. "Betty reached into her backpack and brought out her contingency plan."

"Enough," Jughead snapped. "It doesn't matter what Betty did to her. Miss Grundy was a predator using a stolen identity."

Distantly, he heard Kevin whispering to his boyfriend in shock.

"And Betty—the golden girl, the innocent cheerleader—put on a god-awful, black hooker wig, pulled out a revolver and broke into Miss Grundy's house."

The silence in the room was deafening. There it was: the secret she'd so desperately fought to protect. The truth she never wanted revealed, laid bare in front of half their class. And suddenly, every hint she'd dropped made sense. Betty had committed a crime, but who would prosecute her when the victim was guilty of worse transgressions?

Betty's head hung low in defeat. Archie, stunned by the revelation, silently stared at her.

"I watched her hold a gun to Miss Grundy, screaming at her to leave town or she'd make her pay for hurting Archie. For hurting Polly. No, wait—for hurting her by stealing Jason. You see, Betty seemed to think she was Polly!" Glancing sideways at Cheryl, he shrugged. "She was banging Jason, too. Anyway, poor Miss Grundy tearfully packs a bag and leaves town, never to be heard from again."

Veronica reached out for Betty's hand, but it was shrugged away by the shuddering blonde. Jughead took a step forward, his body shuddering with rage.

"Really, I was kind to date such a crazy girl, especially after all that," Chuck continued. "Who else would want her?"

Oh, that's it.

"I would," Jughead announced with a fist to Chuck's jaw.

They tumbled to the ground in a flurry, smashing a table in the process. Chuck landed a solid left, but Jughead knew where to upkick and take out the star athlete's knee. Chuck growled in pain as Jughead followed with a clean right hook, but earned a jab to the eye in the process. Distantly, he could hear Betty screaming, but there was nothing but red, nothing but the need to avenge her. Chuck needed to suffer for what he'd done.

"You fighting her battles now, Columbine?" Chuck hissed.

Jughead drove his fist into Chuck's kidney as the wrestling star overpowered him. "Better I hit you than hit a fucking woman, right, Chuck?"

Chuck's weight lifted from his frame without warning. Arms reached beneath his own, pulling Jughead from the fray—Archie's, he soon realized. Before him stood his father, furious and dragging Chuck towards the door. Jughead pulled against his friend's grip, cursing beneath his breath.

"Let. Me. Go."

"Not a chance, Jughead. Remember what Betty told me? No more violence in her life."

His father, however, hadn't gotten that memo. Chuck's body slammed forcefully into the doorframe as he dragged him down the steps of the Andrews home. The gossip-hungry crowd followed them, Archie allowing Jughead to move with the fray.

"Fucking snake," Chuck jeered.

"Get out of here," FP snarled, "Before I show you how venomous a snake can be."

Someone tossed Chuck's jacket out onto the sidewalk and he reluctantly retrieved it. To Jughead's shock, it quickly became apparent that the crowd had heard him during the fray. Chuck may have had a juicy story, but it was fast being overshadowed by Jughead's revelation.

Turning back towards the house, FP glared at the gawking group. "What are you waiting for? The party's over! Get out of here, now!"

The house emptied itself onto the sidewalk, a purging not unlike the one he imagined in Archie's future. His friend was looking rather green after his night of drunken debauchery. Cheryl Blossom paused on the porch, one of the last to leave. Her shoulders slumped, she looked to Archie, then Jughead.

"Is it true?" she whispered. "Did Chuck hurt Betty?"

"Yeah," Archie blurted out. "And we have the photos to prove it to Sheriff Keller."

The normally confident redhead was visibly deflated. "I didn't know… I didn't know a lot of things, it seems…"

Drawing her faux fur coat closer, she headed off into the night, her crimson hair gleaming beneath the streetlights. Cheryl, Jughead decided, had the right idea. Pulling free of Archie's grip, he stomped down the steps and veered to his right. He'd scarcely made it ten steps before he was clotheslined by a leather-clad arm.

"Whoa! Where the hell are you going?" FP demanded.

"What, you want to give me some advice on my right hook?"

His father stood firmly in his path, body tensed. "I want you to go back inside and talk to your girl."

His girl. Ha. In all of the commotion, he'd forgotten his grand screw-up in the garage.

"I don't think it's going to work out," he told his father. "Irreconcilable differences."

Jughead veered to his left, but FP was there, matching his movements. "No, no you don't. Don't run away from it. Don't run away."

The sidewalk was barren now: Archie had stepped back inside, either to assess damages or puke out the contents of the liquor cabinet. It was the two of them, father and son. In hindsight, there was a poetic element to FP Jones deciding this terrible day was the right time to be the dad he'd faked being on every birthday prior.

"Look, you've got something good going here. With her. With your friends. Something that…" FP hesitated, running an anxious hand through his hair. "Something… that we never gave you. And before you started walking around with a stupid grin all the time, you would walk around with it whenever you spent time with her. "

Jughead glanced over at the Cooper house, staring up at Betty's window. "It's never going to work, Dad. We're from different worlds."

"That's bullshit!" FP grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him down. "You belong here. With them. With her. And if I'm the reason you think it's hopeless, then I won't forgive myself for it."

"Dad—"

"I won't, Jug. And if you really want to go, I'll drive you home. But you won't forgive yourself if you do." His father shoved him gently up the Andrews' walkway. "Now, man up. From what I saw in there, your girl needs you right now."

"I don't know if she's mine anymore," Jughead confessed.

"Your friend needs you," FP amended. "Go."

In his mind, Betty was whispering: "You're my beanie."

Archie was a wreck. Veronica had been dragged by Cheryl for the sins of her father. And Betty… Swiping at a trickle of blood from a cut beneath his eye, Jughead nodded.

"Don't wait up," he told FP. "I'm staying with Archie tonight."

FP nodded firmly. "Go take care of her, boy."

Jughead marched back into the house, taking stock briefly of the damage wrought. He'd owe Archie for the table and vase broken in his fight with Chuck, but it would be a debt worth repaying. The littered floor and furniture could wait until morning. What mattered most was finding Betty.

"Betty?" he called out quietly. "Arch?"

No answer.

He started with the garage, wondering if perhaps Betty had slipped in through the side door to hide from her peers. Vegas glanced up from the recliner he'd squished himself into, yawning once before falling asleep anew. Jughead had turned towards the main house, figuring Betty had retreated to a bedroom upstairs, when a faint noise caught his ear.

"Betts?"

A sniffling drifted from the furthest reaches of the Andrews yard, where the gazebo lay. He treaded carefully, his eyes straining against the darkness. Curled up beside the gazebo, knees drawn to chest, sat a dishevelled, weeping Betty. Unsure of his standing with her after his tirade, he kneeled down a few feet away.

"Hey..."

"Go away," she mumbled. "I know you want to."

"I don't." And he didn't, not anymore. "Can I come closer?"

Betty shook her head furiously. "I don't want your pity, Jug. I deserve to be alone."

"I'm sorry." He crawled across the dirt towards her, resting his hands upon her knees. "I never should have said that to you. And, if you let me try, I'll explain."

"Chuck's right," she whimpered. "I'm crazy. Who would ever want me?"

"Me. More than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life." His hand reached out to graze her cheek, his chest aching at the stream of tears that continued to fall. "I told you the secret wouldn't change how I felt about you. It hasn't changed anything."

He was worried about her, unquestioningly. But the love he felt for her had only intensified.

"I… I don't know why I did it," she confessed, finally meeting his worried gaze.

"You don't have to know why."

She swiped at her tears, sniffling loudly. "I don't want to be with Archie."

"I know you don't. Usually. But I'm broken, Betts," he reminded her, his voice hoarse with fear.

"So am I."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. She sighed loudly, eyes closed tightly. His hands found her clenched fists, covering them and squeezing gently.

"Can we be broken together, maybe?"

Overhead, the clouds shifted, casting a beam of moonlight upon them. Wide green orbs bored holes into his soul.

"Yes, please," she whispered.


One hour ago

"And all this time, I thought you were a lover, not a fighter," Betty gently teased.

"I'm both. I've got layers," he quipped weakly.

After tidying the worst of the mess at Archie's—and leaving Veronica in charge of keeping Archie from drowning in his toilet—Betty had suggested they end the night as Jughead would have preferred it: in a booth at Pop's. They'd quietly shared a plate of fries and matching chocolate shakes, neither inclined to speak of the evening's events right away. Pop Tate, sensing the tension, had given them a wide berth, stopping by only to bring a second round of shakes on the house.

They'd apologized in fragments, snatches of words cut off with I know and I'm sorry, too. At one point, she'd simply kissed his cheek, frowning at the cut she'd patched up at Archie's place. She'd insisted it needed a stitch, but he'd outright refused, settling for tape to hold it together.

Crossing his arms on the table before him, he took a moment to choose his words. He could not hurt her again.

"You were doing something nice," he began, fingers toying with a napkin. "Throwing a party. I know that. I just… When someone does something nice for me, I short circuit. Because people aren't nice to me. And maybe I'm afraid of getting hurt. Of being rejected, for being myself."

He glanced over at her, hoping she understood. Her hand slid across the table and he covered it, relieved.

"I should have told you. About what Chuck saw. I should have trusted you with it. But instead, I let him get away with hurting me to keep it secret and… and threw you this party you didn't even want." She shook her head sadly. "And Archie told me that you woudn't want a party, but I did it anyway."

"So, why did you?" he asked, leaning closer.

"It's complicated. The simple reason is, after everything you've done for me, I wanted to do something special for you. And when your dad mentioned you'd never had a party before, it just lodged in my head that you deserved to be celebrated. But that's not the whole reason…"

His hand slid across the cool leather of the booth to her knee, his fingertips tracing lazy circles through her jeans. Betty, struggling not to cry, drew a deep breath before she continued.

"Something is very, very wrong with me. Like there's this darkness inside of me, sometimes. I usually try to bury it or do positive things for people to push it down, like your party, but it doesn't always work. And I don't know where it comes from, Jug, but it makes me do these crazy things… like Grundy… or…"

She hesitated, staring out into space. Jughead nudged her with his shoulder, urging her to continue. With a soft sigh, she extended her hands across the table, palms down and slowly flipped them over.

Oh, God.

Her beautiful hands, known by him for their soft skin and sweet touches, bore the scars of her private battle. Angry crescent shapes marred her palms, precise replicas of her manicured nails. Some were scabbed over, perhaps a day or two old, but one particularly vivid wound was fresh and still seeping tiny droplets of blood.

His fingers slid beneath hers, gathering her hands in his. Cupping them together, he kissed them with all of the love for her that he possessed. I won't leave you, Betts. Not unless you ask me to.

Her lips pressed to his in response, needy and desperate and he met her need, kissed her like they were dying in this fractured town. And maybe it was killing them: the impossible perfect veneer that hid the lies and sickness beneath. He remembered the way she'd recoiled when he called her perfect and silently vowed to never use that word to describe her again.

She burrowed into his side and he held her close, listening to her breathe. How had he ever dreamed of walking away from this? They fit. And, in ways he'd never fully recognized until now, they were so very much the same.

"Do you think they know about us now?"

Jughead shrugged. "They know how I feel. Do you want them to know?"

Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging lightly. "They already know the secret. Maybe it's time they know everything."

"Everything?"

Betty held up her phone for him. On screen was one of many photos Veronica had taken of her bruised arm. Jughead grimaced at the murky purple-black of her skin.

"Everything, Juggie."


Now

He'd resisted the urge to climb the ladder tonight, Betty reminding him that the unexpected, rowdy party had been right next door and her mother would surely be waiting up to interrogate her. Settling for an all-too-brief makeout session in Archie's foyer, he'd stood on her lifelong neighbour's porch and watched her cross the yard to her door. With a small smile and a wave, she stepped inside, leaving him to ruminate.

Betty's self-harm weighed heavily on his mind, as so many moments grew dark in hindsight. The way she'd looped her arm through his as they walked to the Bijou, dodging his outstretched hand; the many times he'd seen her ball her fists when upset; the time when she was thirteen and had dismissed a bloody tissue on her desk as being from a nosebleed. Betty Cooper had been suffering silently for years. But never again, he vowed. She could tell him anything and he would hold that truth for her.

Adjusting a crooked picture frame on Archie's wall, his thoughts drifted to Chuck Clayton. As much as he wanted to see justice served for Betty, he worried about the emotional toll it would take on her to report him to police. It was her decision and he would stand by her, but he wanted to be sure it was because she wanted him to be punished for the abuse—and not to distract from her confrontation with Grundy.

In the kitchen, Jughead found his birthday cake, half-eaten on the counter. He grabbed a fork from a nearby drawer and took a large bite. Angel food cake, he recognized with a smile. Having been distracted earlier, he only now realized his cake resembled a hamburger: Betty had dyed frosting and woven it to resemble meat, and various toppings, including cheese. Just as he liked it at Pop's.

She was too good to him.

Taking another bite, he struggled to remember what Cheryl had said about Hiram Lodge and the drive-in. Had he done more than simply snap up cheap land on the Southside? Had something more sinister taken place? He'd have to ask Betty in the morning what she heard, perhaps jar Veronica's memory.

Speaking of… where was Veronica?

Glancing upstairs, Jughead smirked. Maybe this terrible day has a silver lining. It didn't take a genius to see Veronica's interest in the friendly redhead—nor did it take much to notice his lingering looks at Betty's cheerleading companion. Yeah, they'd started off poorly, hurting Betty's feelings in the process, but a year had passed and, as he'd been assured repeatedly tonight, Betty's interest in Archie was dead and gone.

A soft, feminine giggle carried downstairs and Jughead laughed. He couldn't wait for the walk of shame in the morning.


Morning had come far too early for anyone's liking.

Jughead had woken up first, thanks to poor Vegas whining to be let outside. The dog was practically crossing his paws to hold it in. Opening the back door and yawning, Jughead heard soft footsteps on the upstairs landing. It was time for a show.

Settling into Fred Andrews's favourite chair, he waited as a tap turned on and off, the toilet flushed and tiptoed steps came down to the ground floor. There, a mortified Veronica came face to face with an expectant Jughead.

"Veronica, good morning."

"Um, hi…" Adjusting her dress, Veronica flushed scarlet. "So, Jughead, about this—"

"Your secret's safe with me," he interrupted with a knowing smile. "The inner circle is discreet, right?"

Veronica's eyes twinkled with amusement. "It is. Although your gesture of chivalry last night may not have gone unnoticed by the masses."

"Pretty sure they're going to remember the twincest accusation more than anything, but we're not worried."

Her hand clamped over her mouth in shock. "Oh no, I really did say that, didn't I?"

"Don't worry about it. Cheryl actually seemed repentant when she left last night. Perhaps being an agent of chaos is wearing thin."

"Or maybe she'll pick a new target," Veronica grumbled. "My driver is outside. Did you need a ride home?"

"Um, yeah. Let me just get Vegas to come back in."

Veronica opted to wait in the car as Jughead rounded up the relieved retriever. Leaving a short note for Archie, he locked the door behind him and slid into an uncomfortably nice luxury sedan. Veronica's driver made short work of the trip over the bridge to Sunnyside, with Veronica asking questions about Pickens Park and Southside High.

"How did you end up at Riverdale High?"

"Well, it started thanks to a lie," he mused. "Fred and Mary had my parents put their address down when I was enrolled, and no one caught on until grade four. And by then, my test scores were so high, they figured I was better off. So the school ignores the fact I'm in the wrong district to attend, and I don't qualify for a school bus to get there."

Veronica nodded thoughtfully as they turned into Sunnyside Park. "Well, I am glad the Andrews family schemed to keep you with Archie and Betty. You may act like the curmudgeon, but you are a softie, Mr. Jones."

"Thank you, I think? This one's mine." Nodding to Veronica, he headed inside, noting his father's truck was absent. Perhaps he could get a few more hours of sleep before an inevitable father-son chat.

The stench of bourbon as he opened the door quickly dissolved that dream.

"Dad?"

A groan from the living room affirmed his worst fears. Tossing his backpack aside, Jughead rounded the corner and found his father on the floor in front of the TV, an empty bottle beside him. Sloshes of amber-hued alcohol stained the carpet surrounding him, as well as a photo album on the nearby table.

"Jug, heeeeyyyyyyy…. It's not what it looks like," FP mumbled.

"So you didn't have a relapse last night and get drunk? That's a relief." Jughead reached a hand down to his father, wanting to pull him up, but it was batted away angrily. "Dad, what happened last night?"

"I'm not a good father, Jug. No, no, I'm not. Not a good man, either." He rolled halfway onto his side, clutching his head. "I ruined your life. Ruined your childhood and you… you don't know what love is. Because of ME."

Jughead kept his distance, all too familiar with his father's temper when hungover. "Dad, you didn't ruin my life. Maybe it was hard, and maybe I'm messed up, but you were messed up and hurting. And the last few weeks? Last night, when you stopped me from making the biggest mistake ever? You've been trying so hard. I see it."

"I want to… I want to keep you safe. But I don't know how." His father's grizzled features twisted in pain as he began to weep. "I fucked up, Jug. I fucked up."

"Hey, it's okay. Everybody fucks up." He knelt down beside his father, unsure of what to do for him. "It's okay."

"I miss your mom, and Jelly," he whispered sadly. "I missed you."

"You don't have to miss me anymore. I came home. And hopefully, they will too. But first, we gotta clean all this up."

"Yeah." FP slowly pushed himself up to a seated position, his arm propped against the floor for support. "Gotta clean up. For you."

"For yourself, Dad. You deserve to be happy."

FP huffed. "That ship has long sailed, boy. But you, you are the future. And I have to protect it."

Jughead rose, again offering his hand. This time, his father accepted and he pulled, dragging him to unsteady feet. Rubbing his eyes, FP surveyed the evidence of his bender with a look of deep regret.

"Need a shower," he murmured.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll clean up the living room for you. Um… do you remember where your truck is? Because it's not outside."

"The Wyrm. It's fine." FP staggered down the hallway, pausing at his bedroom door. "Jug?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you… I need a meeting."

Jughead nodded. "Of course. Just get cleaned up and we'll go together."

"Alright."

As the bathroom door shut, Jughead slumped to the ground. Chaos, it seemed, wasn't through with him yet. Happy birthday, Jughead Jones.


Before anyone asks: FP did NOT fall off the wagon because of the party. We'll talk to him about it in a couple of chapters. Man, my heart hurts for writing all of this. But at least Bughead are hanging on.

Next time: Veronica reveals what's got her down; the Homecoming Dance brings a storm of its own.

Let me know what you think of Betty's secret, Bughead, or just random Riverdale thoughts.