He couldn't keep his hands from her skin, soft and cool beneath his own as it laid against the starched sheets beneath her. If he concentrated enough he could feel the light thrum of her blood as it pushed through her veins, forcefully pulsing the life back into her. Even with the wound on her head bound tightly in gauze he could see the bruising, mottled and purple creeping out from underneath and stretching to the blue of her eyes, closed in sleep. Jughead bit down on his lip, closing his eyes to better picture the happy, healthy version of Betty he was so used to, the version he had so taken for granted until this moment.
He had almost forgotten they were in the room until their movement stirred him and his eyes snapped up to meet theirs, concern and worry darkening circles around their bright and tired eyes.
"You guys should head home," Jughead said. "I told the Cooper's I'd wait for them until they got back from bringing Betty some stuff from home."
Veronica nodded with a thick swallow. "We know that Betty is going to be okay without us here, but what about you, Jug? You don't want us to stay?"
He shook his head. "I appreciate the offer guys, but I'm alright. I just want to stay here until visiting hours are up."
"Okay," Veronica replied, squeezing Archie's hand in his silence. Gently letting go she crossed the threshold to Betty's bed and leaned down. "You did good, B. Rest up and we'll be back tomorrow." She pressed her dark tinted lips against her friend's pale cheek in a kiss, an outline of her lips stained against Betty's skin.
Archie, still silent as the adrenaline of the situation faded into quiet disbelief, followed suit and pressed the palm of his hand against Betty's pale face, his thumb gently stroking a line across her cheekbone, leaned towards her and pressed his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and relishing in the comforting knowledge that the doctor had assured her full recovery.
"Call us if anything changes?" Archie asked as he stood, wrapping his arm around Veronica's waist.
"Of course," Jughead answered.
Their sad smiles served as the goodbye none of them wished to speak as they walked from the room and left him alone with Betty.
Jughead turned his eyes back to her, swallowing back the swell of emotion that rose with the sight of her tragic placement before him. It had been hours since the doctor had offered them promising hope by assuring that Betty would make a full recovery, and yet in those hours she had still remained stubbornly unconscious. They were only told that she would wake when she was ready.
He held her hand close to his body, wishing more than anything that her eyes would open and she would talk to him, but left with her silence and the thready beeping her of heart monitor instead. He tucked her cold hand back beneath her blankets and rested his tired head against the warmth of her leg, face turned up towards her as he felt the power of heavy sleep wash over him. Desperately wanting to be awake when Betty woke, Jughead fought the urge to sleep with everything he had. But ultimately sleep won over and he drifted off uneasily beside her.
Jughead woke to a sensation, familiar yet foreign in its placement, one of light fingers and soft skin around his temple and hair, the shift in his hat askew on his head. He blinked his eyes open, offended by the bright whiteness that greeted him until a welcome sight took hold.
She was running her fingers through his hair, brushing the stray stands away from his tired eyes as he blinked her into focus, her pale face a welcome sight to his worried eyes. Relishing in the sensation of her against him, Jughead closed his eyes in a relieved sigh and raised his hand to hers.
"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you." Her voice was horse.
He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, like she was the air to his drowned lungs. Jughead raised his head from the bed to better see her, clutching her warm hand in his and relishing in the sight of her vibrant eyes open and blinking him in.
"God am I happy to see you," he replied with a relieved laugh, lighter without the worry of her like lead in his bones.
Betty's lips turned up in a smile but her breath hitched and tears sprang to her eyes, spilling down the planes of her cheeks as she burst out crying. The rush of emotion took them both by surprise and Jughead stood to his feet.
"Hey, hey," he whispered comfortingly, stroking away the tears from her cheeks as she sobbed into his palms. "It's okay, it's all over now. You're safe."
"Jug," she wept, "I thought…." The remainder of her sentence died on her lips.
"I know, Betty. I know. I'm so sorry." He was at a loss, consumed by guilt and anger and tormented by her anguish. He placed his forehead against hers as she clutched onto his forearms, matching her breathing in rhythm to his, steadying herself with his closeness.
"Stay with me."
He nodded, unable to deny her simple request and glanced down to the small spot she had made by shifting her body to one side of bed. Gently moving the wires and tubes that sprouted from her body, Jughead climbed beneath the covers beside her, looping an arm beneath her neck and pulling her close to him.
Betty rested against him, her eyes drawn down by the rush of safety and comfort he brought her, but fought the urge to sleep and tilted her face up to him. Hundreds of thoughts whirled through her head of the things she wanted, needed, to tell him. But the powerful scent of his cologne and of him washed over her like a sedative until nothing remained but a blissful state of calm, all terrors and fears of her last few hours pushed far back and away.
"I thought we lost you," he whispered, his lips pressed against her forehead.
She tightened her grip on the cloth of his shirt held tight in her fist as a response. She thought she had been lost, too.
"I thought…" he continued.
"I know, Jug." She couldn't let him continue, let him voice their fears and worries aloud without breaking into the state of peace she had finally reached. The time would come to deal with it, to not hold back and say all the things they promised themselves they would say if they were given just one more chance. But that time was not now.
A soft knock sounded from the door and it swung open before they could reply. The nurse cast a disapproving face in their direction as the sight of their bodies entwined on Betty's small bed reached her eyes and she opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again with a tired sigh and a shake of her head.
"Your parents will be back in about half an hour, missy," she tutted, shaking her finger in their direction. "Separate by then and no one will be any wiser," she finished with a wink.
Jughead and Betty smiled gratefully back up at her.
"What do you want me to do with the note, honey?" The nurse asked as she busied herself setting Betty's personal effects in the corner of the room.
"Note?" Betty asked, lifting her head from Jughead's chest to better see.
"Yeah, the note," she replied as she pulled a damp, sealed envelope from the bag.
"We'll take it," Jughead replied for her, reaching outwards to take it from her outstretched hand.
"Half an hour, kids. Or you'll be facing the wrath of Alice Cooper," she warned lightly, smiling gently in their direction and backing out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
"Do you know what this is?" Jughead asked, holding the blank envelope out for Betty to see."
"I've never seen that before," Betty answered, her voice shaking around the words.
Slipping his arm across their bodies, Jughead gently tore the envelope open and tipped the paper inside out onto the blankets. He unfolded its careful creases took in the familiar sharp blank ink and was instantly filled with dread.
It read: "Welcome to the beginning."
