The blame is quickly pinned on the Southside Serpents, who vehemently deny any involvement. "Look what I found in psycho Jones' backpack," Reggie says, holding up a folded piece of paper. "A diagram. Instructions for making this exact kind of bomb." Or, well, Archie would learn later on that Reggie said that. But in the moment, he isn't concerned with Reggie. Isn't anywhere near him, in fact - he's in the truck, speeding after the ambulance carrying Veronica.
Archie feels like a hostage going haywire from sheer fear and panic as he paces the waiting room. When Betty and Jughead were hospitalized, he was just scared. But with Veronica behind closed doors, he thinks he may claw out of his skin.
Hiram and Hermione are trying desperately to get out of New York, to get back to Riverdale, but there are complications. Either way, they're not here, though they might as well be breathing down Archie's neck the way everyone's talking about them, wondering why it's taking so long for them to change their flight. The waiting room is full, the stuffy heat of packed bodies overcoming the industrial air conditioning.
He's surrounded by pretty much everyone he cares about except for the person who matters the most because she's busy possibly dying, and the embrace that Betty and Jughead wrap him in should be comforting and familiar, but instead it feels like being in a dream where he's someplace he recognizes but it looks strangely different, everything just a degree or two off from true north. He extricates himself, doesn't feel like being touched. All he wants is for no one to talk to him for the foreseeable future.
He imagines what might have happened at school today if nothing had gone wrong, if there had never been any investors threatening Veronica's life. If he hadn't yelled at her and left without saying he loved her or cared about her or making sure she was okay; instead he accused her of trying to get herself killed when she must have been terrified, and of course now that might be the last thing he ever gets to say to her. But if none of that had happened, she might have greeted him with the smile she seems to reserve only for him, and he would have felt like he was weightless when she would have kissed him, because that's what happens when Veronica Lodge turns her kinetic energy on him; it's like he's standing in a puddle of sun. It's one of the reasons he loves her so much.
He has no clue how to go on without her, and more than that, he has absolutely no desire to learn.
The morning melts by, as does every stray thought Archie has ever had about anything other than how desperately he needs Veronica. He knows the blankness of his expression is making everyone wonder if there's anything beating and alive beneath it at all, but he can't even answer that question himself.
Eventually Jughead nudges him. "How are you holding up?"
Archie blinks at him, distracted, still gazing at the double doors leading into the ER. "I'm not."
Jughead nods like that's fair, then says "Archie, I promise you - this wasn't the Serpents."
Archie gets a bad taste in his mouth. He knows it wasn't the Serpents. He knows exactly who did this. "Are they really trying to pin the blame on you, Jug?"
Jughead scowls. "There's no evidence other than that stupid planted diagram. And my alibi is solid." He looks at Archie then, his expression softening. "She's gonna be okay, Arch."
Archie swallows and sits back in his unforgivingly hard plastic chair. "Veronica and I had… a talk last night."
"The I know you're really Catholic but this is where babies come from talk?" Jughead tries to lighten the mood, blue eyes going wide.
Archie can't even muster a smile. "I was mean to her." His shoulders drift up toward his ears like he hadn't wanted to admit that and he's annoyed Jughead got it out of him. He stares straight ahead, not a hint of anything to reveal what he's thinking to the world. He thinks he might spend the rest of his life in a sinkhole of guilt and confusion and sadness. Thinks there's no limit to the ways he's managed to fail Veronica since they met.
Jughead looks at him sympathetically. "Archie, you know it's-"
"Archie Andrews?" A doctor finally pushes through the doors and comes out to speak to them, and when he stands, he's so drained he feels boneless, barely able to hold up his own weight, but then the doctor says, "Ms. Lodge is stable and awake. She's asking for you," and he stumbles after him down a maze of blinding hallways until he reaches Veronica's room.
Everything about his girl is all edge, and he would never use the words, weak or breakable to describe her, but lying there in the hospital bed… Veronica looks nothing but innocent. Any impulse he has to scream "What the fuck?" or "What happened?" or "Are you all right?" vanishes, and for a long moment, all they do is rest in each other's silence. In each other's confused, exhausted, what are we doing in this room eyes.
He barely registers anything else about her appearance, except that she's there. And then she's in his arms. It's not the most comfortable position because she's laying in a hospital bed and he's perched on the edge of it, but it doesn't matter. With one hand buried in her hair and an arm wrapped around her waist, he plans on never letting go again. He thinks about eternities; the small ones confined in the space of a kiss and the longer ones bookended by raising a family. Archie wants all of them with Veronica, can't imagine them without her.
"I love you," he mumbles against her jaw, repeats the words against her cheek and her ear and her lips as her body melts against his. She smells all wrong; smells like dust and blood and antiseptic, but she feels small and strong and warm like she always does.
She's in hospital issue scrubs that are overlarge on her, but they're clean, unlike her hair and skin. She's bruised, dirty, bloody. There's a long bandage down the underside of her left forearm, from her elbow to the inside of her wrist. She has another under her right cheek; the skin around each is stained with iodine.
He squeezes her hand, like the tighter he holds her, the more confidently he can guarantee she's alive.
"Sorry that was a long wait for you," she murmurs, clearly exhausted. "Took me awhile to wake up. The drugs they gave me-"
"Shh," he hushes her softly, kisses the back of her knuckles. "I would've waited my entire life."
She smiles a little and sniffs. "Meet anyone interesting in the waiting room?"
He's not sure exactly why they're having this conversation, but it occurs to him that he doesn't really care: he'll talk to Veronica about anything she wants. "Didn't exactly feel like chatting. One guy tried to talk to me. He said his name was Animal; and that his real name was Peter, but that you can't be in a rock-and-roll band with a name like Peter, or something."
"Sure you can," Veronica counters, slitting her eyes open to look at him. She's still holding his hand. "What about Pete Townshend?"
"Okay, well-"
"Pete Seeger."
"Yeah, but-"
"Peter, Paul, and Mary."
"Peter, Paul, and Mary were not a rock-and-roll band!" Archie exclaims, laughing.
"But they sang about drugs." Veronica is clearly enjoying herself. "So if Animal's argument is that people named Peter are too uptight for drug-type singing, then Peter of Peter, Paul, and Mary clearly illustrates otherwise."
They lapse into a brief silence during which Archie is working up the guts to talk about what happened between them last night, but Veronica looks at him like she can tell what he's thinking and she doesn't like the trajectory the conversation is about to take; so she bends it to her will.
"Talk about something else," she says, staring right at him. "I don't want to think about the explosion, or the investors, or any of it."
Archie squeezes her hand again, looks at her, thinking for a moment. He wants to apologize, but he also doesn't want her to feel more stressed or afraid than she already does. "What does your name mean?"
"Huh?"
"'Veronica.' What does 'Veronica' mean?"
"She who brings victory," Veronica replies. "And also, true image."
Archie nods his approval and smiles a little. "Ever look me up?"
She did, actually, mere days after she met him, but she's not about to spill the beans on that one. "Not yet."
...
Doctors proclaim she has a concussion before deciding she's going to be better off at home, where she can rest. Hiram and Hermione are still out of town, and the earliest flight they can get is scheduled for the morning after next, and Archie will be damned if Veronica goes back to the Pembrooke alone. So he drives her back to his house and helps her walk up the driveway, up the stairs, down the hall into his bedroom. It takes forever, because every step hurts her and they have to go slow and take breaks.
Veronica looks warily at the bathroom. She needs a shower, but she's not sure she can manage it.
"Come on, I'll help you," Archie says, reading her mind.
They make the trip into the bathroom. Archie twists the tap on and as the water heats up, he helps Veronica undress. The entire length of her right side is mottled with bruises, her hips and thigh so deeply purple the skin is almost black.
She clutches the counter for support as he undresses. "Let me know if I'm hurting you," he says, leading her into the shower.
"I can't really feel any pain right now; they gave me something for it at the hospital," she explains. "But I can't… I can't make my body move like it should, either."
"Just try to stay upright and I'll do all the work," he promises, reaching for the soap. The dressings on Veronica's wounds are waterproof, so that's one less thing to worry about, though she does pitch back and forth a few times, making Archie reach out and steady her. Still, it's not much of a struggle for him, at least until he needs to wash her hair.
"I can't close my eyes," she frets. "It feels like I'm falling. Or spinning."
"Just hang on to me, okay?" he says, reaching out for her. "I won't let you fall."
"You'll catch me if I do," she mumbles, and it makes him wonder if she's a little stoned from the drugs or if it's just the effects of the concussion.
Veronica still keeps her eyes open as long as she can, looking at a spot on the wall over Archie's shoulder as he scrubs her hair clean of dirt and dried blood. When he needs to rinse it, she closes the little distance between them, resting her head on his chest. They stay like that for a long time, just holding each other under the spray.
By the time they get out they're both water-logged and wrinkly, and Veronica looks even more exhausted than she did before she got in the shower, though at least she's clean now. Archie scowls as he keeps Veronica upright while she tugs on a pair of leggings she'd left at his place ages ago; they seem more effort than they're worth right now. And of course when he helps her into the loose tunic-style she sleeps in when she's over at his house he puts it on her backwards at first, but after those minor bumps in the road they end up in his bed in a tangle of limbs, their breath soft in the dark. The world outside is quiet, like all the wind has gone still.
That night, Veronica falls asleep thinking about God. Even when things go wrong, she's always believed in holy power, and though her religion is incidental to whatever is going on here, her faith has been written into the very cells of her DNA since the day she was born, when every member of her family crowded into a hospital room to pray over her life. To thank God for her life. She wonders about the events that have crisscrossed to bring her to this place. How much of it is fate, and how much of it is her fault? How much control does she really have over her life?
A few weeks ago, she felt good about the course her life was taking. But now that her immaculate house of cards has collapsed, she has to wonder what did it.
Was it her father?
Was it her mother?
Was it Riverdale?
Or was it her - from the moment she was born - falling, failing, gasping for air - her?
...
It feels like Archie has barely closed his eyes before the sun is streaming in through the windows and someone is pounding on their door. He staggers out of bed and down the stairs and flings it open, his dad coming up behind him. "What?" he growls, leaning heavily on the frame and rubbing his eyes.
"I need to talk to you and Veronica," Sheriff Keller says wearily. When Archie can finally focus his eyes he sees that he looks completely wrecked; he can only imagine the kind of night Keller must have had.
"Veronica is in bed. Where she needs to be. What can I do for you?" he asks pointedly.
"I need both of you," he says, pushing his way into the house. He's followed by Kevin, Jughead, and Betty, the latter of which gives him an apologetic look.
"How is he?" Archie asks quietly, staying her as they watch Jughead head into the living room.
"Not spiraling," she says, clearly relieved. "And Sheriff Keller says he's not a suspect as of now, despite what Reggie accused him of." It's one of the few pieces of good news they've had, other than Veronica, who chooses that moment to appear on the staircase, knuckles wrapped tightly around the banister, looking bedraggled.
"How do you feel?" Keller asks politely as he sits down.
"About as good as I look," Veronica says sarcastically as Archie helps her make her way to the couch. It doesn't escape Archie's notice how carefully she lowers herself onto it, how much pain she must be in.
"You need to be in bed," he says quietly, leaning over to whisper in her ear as Kevin and Jughead drag chairs from the kitchen table so everyone can sit down.
"I'm fine," she dismisses. Archie bites his tongue because he doesn't want to fight with her in front of everyone.
"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. I know you're not at your best right now, but it couldn't wait," Keller says specifically to Veronica before turning to face Archie as well. "We found Hiram and Hermione Lodge's fingerprints on the debris from the bomb."
Archie glances at Veronica, and the look that passes between them lets him know they're thinking the same thing: that the investors are trying to frame her parents.
"They have an alibi; they were out of the state. So while we can be confident that they didn't personally plant the bomb, we're opening an investigation to see if they had anything to do with building it." Sheriff Keller side eyes Archie now, like he's bracing for some fit he knows he's about pitch. "And, Veronica - like I said, I'm sorry to do this, but we have no choice but to consider the possibility that - well, that you may have planted it."
That has Archie practically apoplectic. He gets to his feet. "Are you kidding me, Sheriff Keller?"
Jughead and Betty get to their feet too, angry. "What the hell, Keller?" Jughead says. "You said you were just going to ask Veronica what she remembers."
Archie feels acid rising up in his throat as his anger dawns bright and harsh. "Are you actually theorizing that Veronica risked killing herself so she could set off a bomb in a practically empty room? Are you kidding me?" he repeats, and there is a moment where he forgets anyone else is there. It's just Sheriff Keller and him, fighting over insinuations about the only girl he's ever really loved.
"Archie, listen," Keller begins, "I need to take Veronica down to the station for questioning, and you can come if you want. It will only be about an hour-"
Archie interrupts him. "Is she under arrest?"
"Of course not."
"Then that would be an illegal detention," he says, quick as a whip. He learned that from his mom. "I think you need to leave now, Sheriff Keller. Get out of my house and go find whoever actually tried to kill Veronica. Because right now all you're doing is proving that you're really bad at your job."
But then, from behind him comes Veronica's voice. "I'll go in for questioning, Sheriff Keller."
"No," Archie snaps.
"Excuse me?" Veronica shoots back. "Though I had nothing to do with the bombing, I have no problem with clearing up the confusion," she adds smoothly. Of the two of them, Veronica is apparently the only one with a modicum of grace, not that this comes as any sort of revelation to Archie.
Sheriff Keller smiles at her gratefully, but Archie says, "I don't give a shit. You need to be here. Resting."
"Can you excuse us for a minute?" Veronica asks. She pushes herself up slowly, walks stiffly to the staircase, and doesn't let Archie help her as she makes her way to his bedroom, where she slams the door shut, leaving the two of them alone again.
"You're not going," he says again, standing in front of the door like he can stop her.
"Yes I am."
"No you're not!" Archie explodes, and for a moment they're back in her room the night before the bombing. "God damn it Veronica, why won't you let me keep you safe?!"
She doesn't try to interrupt his rant, just stands a few feet away from him with her arms crossed over her chest and a pissed off expression on her face.
"Look at yourself! You can barely get out of bed and you think you're up to going to the Sheriff's station? You could have died yesterday, and now he's accusing you of doing it yourself. It's bullshit."
"I agree, but what about the police force in Riverdale isn't? Archie, if I don't do this, it's going to make me look suspicious. Clearly, the investors want to frame my family, and I'm not going to be insolent and uncooperative to add fuel to whatever fire they're trying to build."
He stares at her for a long minute before he huffs out a breath and slumps against the dresser. "I can't do this, any of it, without you. I already knew that, but nothing felt real until yesterday when I was in the hospital waiting for someone to come out and tell me whether or not you were still alive."
She's quiet. "I don't want to go," she says finally.
"Then don't," Archie says quickly, hoping to stem the rest of the words he knows are coming.
"I have to."
"He can question you here."
"You know that's not going to happen."
He sighs, finally running up the white flag. "Alright. Let's just get through today," he says heavily, pushing himself away from the dresser. "We should get ready."
"Hey," Veronica says, reaching out for him and reeling him back in. She kisses him softly. "It's going to be okay. I love you."
Archie closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers. "I love you too," he says quietly.
...
The questioning takes longer than Sheriff Keller predicted, mostly because he has to run off to tend to some other crime that gets called in on his walkie talkie, and Veronica, Archie, Betty, and Jughead have to sit in the lobby for what feels like days before he finally comes back and proceeds to ask her relentless questions about things that seem completely irrelevant. Oh, and of course he repeatedly says, "This is all just procedural, Veronica. You're not a suspect."
By the time they leave the sheriff's station, though, that's exactly how she feels. The sun is just starting to set when they decide to go to Betty's house. It's been too long, Veronica says, since they spent anything akin to casual quality time together. Hospital visits and police investigations aren't how normal friends hang out together.
Even still, once there, Veronica can't seem to revel in the gathering. While Archie and Betty and Jughead laugh and eat pizza, she excuses herself for a moment and slips past the kitchen, out the sliding door, and across the covered patio, avoiding the bright patch thrown by the floodlight affixed to the back of the house. She makes straight for the swingset in Betty's backyard, wet from this afternoon's rainstorm.
She sits.
It's not that she doesn't want to be with them, exactly. That's not what it is at all. She just doesn't know how to do this, all the clang and chatter in the house. Not when Betty and Jughead are still so oblivious to everything that's going on. She's more instinctively afraid of their reaction than she is panicked about it, the way she was taught to be afraid of tornadoes and hurricanes and earthquakes. Telling Betty and Jughead they were almost killed because of her: terrifying.
It's her fault, she thinks again, swinging slowly back and forth without much of a long term plan. She doesn't know how to tell them. She doesn't-
"What are you doing?"
Archie sidles across the damp grass, hands in his pockets. She hadn't seen him coming - he'd edged around the floodlight, too.
"Um." She gropes around for plausible deniability, and finding none, has to settle for the truth. "Hiding."
Archie raises his eyebrows, pauses by the other swing. "From anything in particular?" It's frustratingly dark out here; fine for brooding, sure, but for all the world he wants to pull Veronica into the light and just… look.
Everyone, as a matter of fact, but she doesn't say that out loud. "That," she begins instead, stalling for time, "is a very good question."
It's raining again, just drizzle, almost imperceptible. Neither of them move.
Veronica says, "I need to tell them."
Archie says, "I know." When she looks up, she finds him staring back. "Ronnie," he says, and it occurs to her that her nickname has seldom been on his lips these last few days. Veronica, he's been saying, because they're being oppressed by this crushing weight of life-and-death gravity, and Ronnie was what he called her when things were okay. When tenderness wasn't tainted by the fear that they were going to lose each other. Back when endearment didn't feel like something that hurt. "I'm sorry."
She rocks back and forth on the swing, slow. She doesn't encourage his apology - whatever the hell he's sorry for, he shouldn't be. Whatever it is, she already knows that in reality, it's her fault. Whatever it is, she should be the one apologizing.
"That night before the explosion. I walked out on you. I said you were trying to get yourself killed, and-" here he pauses, wipes a hand across his forehead to get rid of the raindrops. He looks at her again, his expression wry and heartbroken and honest. "And then you were almost killed. So I'm sorry, Ronnie - I jinxed it, or something, and I wasn't there to walk you to school, and I wasn't there to protect you when the bomb went off. I promised you I would keep you safe, and then I… didn't." In that moment he looks so colossally sad, so raw and regretful. "I'm sorry."
They gaze at each other for a moment, the rain still hissing steadily all around them and her heart beating small and whisper-quiet inside her chest. She knows it's her move here, that Archie's told her the worst and most honest thing he can think of. She remembers the fight they had the night before the bombing, how defeated he looked. How defeated he looks now. It doesn't feel like she's won anything at all.
"It means true and bold," she tells him finally, wiping either tears or rain off her face with the back of one cold, damp hand. She doesn't know why it suddenly feels like it matters.
Archie physically startles at the response. He looks at her, blinking. "Huh?" he asks.
"Your name," she manages after a moment. "Archie. True and bold."
It's not what he was hoping for; that much is clear by the way his shoulders sag. Still, he musters a smile. "Wish I fit that description these days," is all he tells her. Offers a hand to pull her to her feet.
...
Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please review! I was going to try my hand at some mild-ish smut but I decided to move it to the next chapter because Veronica just got bombed yesterday and I didn't really think headboard banging sexy times were the order of the day. Fair warning for next chapter though!