"Really." He promised, the sound of his voice causing her to whirl away from her own reflection. "It's not that noticeable."

Betty frowned. "You noticed it."

"I was also there, Cooper." Jughead reminded her, stepping into the Blue and Gold office. He allowed his bag to fall to the floor.

She didn't respond.

He noted that she wasn't wearing her River Vixen practice uniform, the gold and white shirt, the white and yellow knee socks, and the black shorts that made her legs look even longer somehow.

Not that he had noticed, of course.

Instead, she was still dressed in typical Betty Cooper fashion, her hair pulled back from her face, a pink sweater and a blue skirt, two rings decorating the fingers on her left hand.

"Did you get detention again, Jug?" Betty questioned, picking up her notebook from the desk.

She tapped a pen against the page impatiently.

"What?" Jughead almost laughed. He wasn't stupid enough to get caught twice. "No."

"Why are you here so late?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Cooper."

"And you don't give a lot of answers." Betty shot back, her eyes narrowing.

She was referring to the conversation she'd zoned in and out of that night at Sweet Water River.

He shouldn't have been surprised to find that she had yet to let go of the little piece of information she was clinging to.

Betty Cooper was nothing if not determined.

And as much as that should have pissed him off, any other person, it would have, it didn't. He loved the Nancy Drew in her, the girl who wasn't afraid to go digging for answers.

This was just one mystery he wouldn't allow her to solve.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Cooper." Jughead grumbled.

She seemed shocked by his tone, and he smirked at her reaction. Initially, he hadn't wanted to scare her, but it was amusing just the same.

"Jug." She was almost begging. "What are you doing here?"

He sighed. "I wanted to see you?"

Betty raised an eye brow. "Why?"

"Last night was intense." Jughead let his shoulders drop in a shrug. "And Archie was being an ass. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Her expression became one of defeat, so unlike the vibrant Betty Cooper he had grown up with. He would have done anything to make sure she never looked like that again.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you." Betty whispered, after a moment.

Jughead raised an eye brow. "Betty-"

"You were right." She told him, cutting him off. "You were absolutely right, Jug. Last night had nothing to do with you. You don't have to tell me anything. Archie is my best friend, not yours."

He felt an unfamiliar pang at her words.

"Betty..."

"I'm sorry." She said again.

"Don't apologize to me." Jughead warned. "Don't ever apologize to me. I was going to tell you."

He had been planning on it, even if it meant further betraying Archie's trust, not that he had it anymore.

By the look on her face, she knew exactly what had distracted him.

"I haven't taken any." Betty promised, meeting his gaze. "I don't have any."

She wasn't lying.

"I know." He promised, wanting nothing more than to enclose his hand over hers again, to squeeze it in reassurance, but he made no moves to approach her. "Look, about what Archie said last night..."

She shook her head. "Let's not rehash it."

He knew her. Too well.

"You are going to do something, aren't you, Betts?"

Betty didn't seem angry by the accusation, though he doubted there was no one she was more upset with at the moment than Archie.

"Of course I am." She replied evenly.

"Betty-"

"I need your help."

"Betty." Jughead groaned, gripping his beanie. "Maybe you should just let this one go."

Betty raised an eye brow. "You're joking, right, Jughead?"

His lips formed a thin line. "No."

"And Archie thought you knew me better." She mused.

I do. He wanted to insist, but the words wouldn't come.

"You can't keep getting yourself into these dangerous situations." He argued instead.

Her amusement quickly turned to suspicion.

Damn it, Jones. He scolded.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his promise to Archie.

Eventually, she would remember, she had to.

Juggie.

"Juggie." Betty, echoing her voice in his head from nearly two years before snapped him back to reality. "I'm sorry you lost your left shoe, but I had to prove they were using expired ingredients."

Jughead stared at her for a moment trying to understand, what exactly she was talking about.

Then realization hit him hard.

After ten kids had been sent home in one day in eighth grade, Riverdale's own Nancy Drew had decided to prove that the ancient lunch ladies were to blame for the food poisoning. With Archie out sick, both he and Betty had brought their lunches, thank god, she had convinced him to go dumpster diving with her the moment the trash cans had been emptied into the large metal bin.

He could vividly remember giving her a boost, and climbing in after her. It had smelled awful, he'd almost puked, and by the time he had pulled her out again, his hands gripping her waist to keep her steady, they'd reeked. It had taken his beanie multiple washes for it not to smell like rotting eggs and sour milk anymore, but she had gotten the proof she needed, publishing a hard hitting article in the junior high version of the Blue and Gold, effectively getting the two women an early retirement.

"My right shoe." Jughead corrected with a grin. "Damn it Betts, we're getting too old for this shit."

"We." He thought he heard her mutter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He knew she was lying.

"Betty-"

"I can't." Betty said, shaking her head. "I won't, Jug, I won't let that... That bitch ruin my best friend's life!"

He couldn't help the smirk that graced his lips, the smugness that was usually in place for his fellow Serpents gone, in its place the boy she had once known, the boy who proofread her English papers, who broke the no girls allowed rule of his tree house just for her, who convinced her to read Anna Karenina three times through, helping her navigate the tricky plotline chapter by chapter, the guy who had pulled her from, quite literally at times, bad situations.

The Serpents wanted him to be tough, almost ruthless in situations, and he was when need be, but every time he felt the part of himself that Betty had known, the part of himself she had once called her best friend, slipping away, he fought just a little harder for that part to stay, unwilling to lose one of the last connections he had to the girl next door.

Betty never cursed. Sure, she said hell, or damn it if that's what the situation called for, like the youngest members of the Serpents, fourteen and fifteen year olds who tried to act cool even though they were not allowed to hang out at the bar, or ride motorcycles.

Jughead was willing to bet everything he had that Betty Cooper, despite her friendships with the likes of Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge, had never called anyone a bitch in her entire life.

"Will you help me?"

"What?"

He really had to stop spacing out around her.

"Will you help me?" Betty repeated, her eyes hopeful. "For old times sake?"

The offer was so tempting, more enticing than she would probably ever know. And yet, he found himself shaking his head, a frown etching across his features.

"Jug." She almost whined.

"No way, Betts, not gonna happen."

"Juggie."

"No, Betty."

"Why not?" She demanded, crossing her arms.

"Because." He replied simply. "It's not my place."

"Jug-"

"We're not friends anymore, Betts." He reminded her, his eyes hardening. "I'm pretty sure Archie can take care of himself. You shouldn't get involved either."

Her determination hadn't waivered.

"...But you're going to."

"But I'm going to." Betty confirmed simultaneously. "I'm not going to sit back and watch him ruin his life. I can't, Juggie, so don't ask me to."

He would ask, beg, plead, order, not that it would do any good.

"I can't help you, Betts." He muttered.

But he could keep watch, just like he always had, just like he always would.

"Do you still care about him?" Betty asked.

Jughead stared at her in irritation, unable to answer her question. He would never be able to explain the jumbled mess of emotions he felt when it came to his former best friend, not even to Betty, the one person he had always told everything to.

Well, almost everything.

"Betty..."

She bit her bottom lip. "Do you still care about me?"

There was absolutely no hesitation.

"Yes."

"Then help me." She begged, moving closer to him. "Please, Juggie, I don't think I can do this without you."

He should have said no, again, the word was on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he caught her gaze, holding it tightly.

"Okay." He said.