Betty paced the area in front of her bed, something she had done so frequently that she was surprised that she hadn't worn the carpet bare. She checked her watch, and calculated in her head how many hours until she could take her meds again. She'd been here before, regulating herself when she started a new dose or a new medication. It was always like this in the beginning, feeling crazier than usual until the meds settled into her blood, her brain, until it lessened her anxiety.

She'd been extra sensitive tonight, especially talking about Johnny, who was maybe just as nuts as she was. It terrified her to have something in common with the person who had shot Fred and was currently terrorizing Riverdale. And it was Johnny. Even if he had an alibi, she knew it was him, but Jughead was right about Johnny not having an apparent motive. She was still working on the reasoning, but it had to be there. It had to be more than the fact that Johnny was a little unhinged. That was why she'd been so defensive when Jughead wouldn't admit that Johnny, without a motive, just snapped. Johnny was just as crazy as Jughead's perfect girlfriend. She'd been rude and short with Jughead when he had tried to comfort her in the police stations, and that was why she was alone now, pacing in her bedroom, trying to give them both a little breathing room.

Out of breath, she sat at the foot of her bed, sighing as she looked out her window and into Archie's bedroom across the way. Jughead and Archie were sitting on Archie's bed as they played video games and talked. Jughead had wanted to check on Archie when they got back from the police station and fill in his best friend on the things that they had learned from Snake. Jughead noticed Betty now, smiled and waved, his eyes lighting up. She waved back, but turned away, and left her bedroom.

For the life of her, she couldn't reconcile why Jughead loved her. She was far from the perfect girl he thought she was. She was a ball of anxiety and depression, neurotic and obsessive, and prone to self-harm. He deserved better than her, but for some reason he stuck by her. And she would always be worried he would change his mind, always be waiting for him to leave her.

Her phone chimed in her pocket, so she took it out, and read the text from Jughead.

I love you.

How did he always know when she needed a little extra boost, a touch of reassurance, an extra word of love, a reminder that, despite her fears and misgivings, he wasn't going to desert her?

She went downstairs to the living room, and curled up on the couch, wrapping herself in a quilt that Hal's grandmother had made almost a hundred years ago. Her paternal grandmother was a Blossom, making her a Blossom, which by blood made her a relative of two murders-Cliff and great-grandpappy Blossom, both who had murdered their own kin. Genetically, the odds were stacked against her. Murderers on one side, crazy from her mother on the other side.

Her terrifying family tree was too much to think about, so she closed her eyes, settled back against the pillows of the couch, and it wasn't long until she nodded off. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out when she heard Jughead say her name as he nudged her shoulder. She instantly smiled and pulled him down to her. He settled between her legs.

They had a million important things to discuss, everything Snake had told them about Goldhead and Michael James, who maybe wasn't dead after all, the fact that all their parents were in hiding and in danger, the evidence that Johnny shot Fred, and so much more, but that wasn't what she asked.

"Do you love me?"

"More than anything in the world," he replied. "Are you okay?" He pulled back a little so that he could look down at her.

Honestly, she wasn't sure herself, so she said, "I'm sorry about earlier. But I was kind of a bitch, and I'm sorry. When I start meds, I can be a bit on edge, and all this talk of craziness makes me a little sensitive. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"I know you don't mean it. It's okay."

"Is it, Jug? This might be something I never get over. Broken things don't always heal."

"But sometimes bones can be stronger in the places they were once broken."

She sighed and scooted out from underneath him, and on her knees, she sat away from him on the opposite side of the couch. As much as Jughead loved her, as much as he tried to understand, he'd never really get it. He didn't have a mental illness that he constantly fought.

"This isn't a hairline fracture in my femur. This is my brain and it's always been a little messed up. What if-" At the thought that her mental illness could drive them apart one day, emotion overtook her. "What if it becomes too much for you? What if I end up crazy, like really crazy? Running naked down the street, arguing with invisible people, or in the bathtub with slit wrists?"

"You won't, Betty," he said.

"With my DNA, it's a strong possibility that I'll really go nuts. I'm related to the Blossoms, a family tree that has at least two confirmed murderous branches. Then there's my mom's side of the family, where every woman seems to go crazy. That's what's in store for you, Jug. A life with an insane person. Just because I'm taking medication right now and it's working, it doesn't mean anything. I might relapse. The drugs could stop working. There is no guarantee."

"You're right. There's not. There are no guarantees in life, but I know for certain that I want you, just how you are."

"I'm anxious and sad and flawed." Why did he love her? She thought after she put her insuffisances into words.

"That's not all you are. You're also kind and selfless and smart and strong and brave." He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, wiping the tears away. "I love you, and whenever you're worried, I'm here to reassure you. I will never change my mind about you. I'm here forever, Betty Cooper. If we weren't only sixteen, I'd marry you tomorrow. One day I want you to be my wife, the mother of our children. All I see in my future is you."

She grabbed him by the collar of his Serpent jacket, pulling him into her. She spread her legs, letting him settle there. He kissed her neck as his hand traveled between their bodies, slipped underneath the soft wool of her sweater, her body reacting instantly, nipples stiffening into hard peaks. And for the moment, they were just two teenagers fooling around on the living room couch while their parents were away.

She tilted her pelvis up in a grinding motion against his erection, causing him groan against her throat. He unfastened her jeans and pushed them down her legs, and he slid his hand into the front of her panties, finding her hot and wet, her sex swollen with desire. His fingers curled upwards in a come hither motion, coaxing her interior wall, making her squirm beneath him. She throbbed against his hand as his thumb stroked that magic spot. She tried to hold off, to make it last, but when he whispered against her ear, "I can feel you coming," she instantly quickened around his fingers.

On her back, she stared up at the ceiling as she reclaimed her senses, but before she could recover, Jughead was above her, his hands on her breasts, drawing one into his mouth, tugging at it with an almost desperate hunger. Then he moved down her body, pausing to press his face into the softness of her stomach before going lower. Suddenly he was pulling down the couch, repositioning her until she was sitting on the cushion and he was on the floor, posed between her thighs.

Using his thumb, he spread her sex apart, exposing her. He dipped his tongue into her, going deep, lapping up her sweet dewiness. His tongue curled around that tender bud of flesh, then it stroked and teased until her quaking inner thighs pressed into his ears. Her breathing became choppy as he gently sucked her center into his mouth. She clutched at the fabric of the couch cushions as she came against his mouth.

Surprising her, he scooped her up, and she was so slick with sweat that she hoped he wouldn't drop her. He hoisted her up, her legs going around his waist. He moved them across the living room until her back came into contact with something solid. At first she wasn't sure where they had ended up, but when she reached behind her for a stronghold, her fingers clutched the edge of the bookshelf, almost knocking over a Cooper family portrait. What would Alice say if she knew that Betty and Jughead were currently desecrating the living room furniture while she was away.

He drove himself upwards and into her, imbedded so acutely that it took her breath away for a moment. His jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto hers as he began to thrust into her, over and over, every time harder and deeper than before. The lonely boy from the Southside and the flawed girl from the Northside melded together, no space between them, closer than close. Together they would never be alone, together they were perfect.

He buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the pulse in her throat. He gave one final thrust as she climaxed, her interior walls cinching around him, and he lost himself in her. He cried out her name, and then slumped forward against her.

After a moment, he picked her up again, and then both collapsed on the couch. They lay there, side by side, sweating and breathing hard. After a moment, Betty giggled. "Jug, that was amazing. I know I say this every time, but the best we've ever had." She turned slightly and kissed his cheek.

"It's amazing because of you."

They lay there for a few more minutes, and then Betty said, "I really think Johnny did this." The respite from the detective work was nice, but they still had a mystery to solve.

"But he has an alibi," Jughead replied. He reached down and grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulled it over his head.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Betty said. "People lie to cover someone they care about. You told me that Fred told Sheriff Keller that you were working for him when Jason was shot, giving you a much needed alibi."

"But that was different. I didn't do."

"Juggie, you yourself told me that Johnny was prone to violence. Hell, he slashed your tires and threatened both of us with a knife after all. There's something not right with him. We both felt it when we saw him in the bar the first time. I know you don't like to admit it, but Johnny is crazy. We all know it, and we have proof. You saw the shooter on the video and you saw his tattoo. It's the same one that Johnny has."

"Honestly, all I know for sure is that Johnny has some tattoos. I don't know what they are of or where they are on his body."

"Well, let's find out."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"That we go to his place and look around," Betty said. "Johnny ran for a reason. Only guilty people flee."

"He could be scared," Jughead said.

"Scared and guilty. We need to get into his house. Maybe he has a picture of himself where you can see his neck tattoo. You know where he lives, right?" She clasped her bra together, slipped on her shirt and jeans, and had her shoes on before he could argue anymore.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I do. In my trailer park, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, and laced up and tied his boots. "This isn't the first time in our relationship that you've had me chasing a suspected killer in the middle of the night. Doesn't anything scare you?"

She shrugged. "Of course I'm scared," Betty said. "But we have to know the truth. We have to solve this. I want Snake freed. I want all of our parents home. And I want to feel safe at night. I want the Riverdale back that we knew when we were kids. Maybe its innocence was forever tarnished by Jason's murder, and the drugs, and the Northside and Southside fighting, but I want to salvage as much of our little town as I can."

"I want the same thing." He helped her put on her Serpent jacket before he put on his own. "You're the bravest person I know." He took her hand and smiled. "Let's go hunt for a maybe-murderer in dark, creepy trailer park."

She climbed onto the back of his motorcycle and wrapped her arms around him as he revved the engine. She pressed the side of her face into his back, trying to shield herself from the freezing wind that whipped around them. The motorcycle might make Jughead even hotter to her, but she missed the rusty, old truck. At least it was warmer.

He parked in front of a trailer that just a few spots down from his. This one was upkept, a fresh coat of paint visible when the flood light came on. The ground of the trailer park was still muddy and damp from the snowy rain Riverdale had been having lately. The motorcycle's kickstand sunk into the ground when Jughead cut the engine of the bike. He got off first and then helped her off.

"What if he's here?" Jughead asked, pausing at the foot of the stairs.

"Then we say we're here to check on him. He doesn't know that we know he was arrested," Betty said. She didn't wait for him as she bounded up to the small wooden porch. She knocked on the door. When no one answered, she crouched in front of the doorknob, pulled a bobby pin from her ponytail, and went to work until the lock popped open.

"I love you," Jughead said in awe of her skills.

"I love you," she said over her shoulder. She gently pushed open the front door.

Jughead was right behind her as they entered the trailer, but he quickly stepped in front of her once they were in the foyer, waiting to protect her. "Hello?" he called.

Betty stepped around him. "Let's split up. I'll take the bedrooms and you take the kitchen and living room."

"No," he said, taking her hand. "We stick together. If you're right about Johnny, and I'm pretty sure that you are, then he's more dangerous that I thought, and I was already a little nervous around him."

"If it wasn't Johnny, who do you think did it?" Betty asked, curious of who he suspected.

"I don't know. The only person with a real motive is Hiram. Fred had an affair with his wife. But Hiram was still in jail at the time of the shooting, and we can tell from the video that the shooter was a man. So that leaves FP, Snake, and Keller. We can count out the women," Jughead said.

"I don't think we should exclude them from suspension," Betty said. "Not totally. Someone freed Johnny, she could have been female. There might not be just one person behind this."

"True," Jughead said. "Johnny must have a partner."

Betty stopped in the hallway when they came to a grouping of pictures. Most of the framed photos were of Johnny as a child. One of him when he had lost his two front teeth, probably in the second grade. He was standing on a cracked, uneven sidewalk, the faded yellow lines of a parking look visible. One of him as a toddler, holding onto a rickety, scuffed up barstool for a balance.

"Is he in a bar?" Betty asked after looking. "Is he in Goldhead?" she asked.

"Look at this one, the one where he's blowing out birthday candles," Jughead said, pointing to the one next to it. "He's sitting in a booth with ripped vinyl seats. And this one when he looks about twelve, he's in the basement. He's in the Whyte Wyrm."

"And here he is with his arm slung around Cliff Blossom and an old man whom I assume is Michael James. Johnny is maybe in his late teens here, which would be around the time of Goldhead, and you can see that rose tattoo on his neck."

"Well, I'll be damned," Jughead said. He took a picture of it with his cell's camera. "We'll take this to show Carol once we're done here."

Betty pushed open the final bedroom door and flipped on the lights. In the corner was a portable bulletin board with blown up pictures of the seven teens tacked to it.

"Well, lookie here! A murder board!" Jughead said. "Guess you were right, Betts."

"I'm always right," she said before leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Now do you believe me?"

"Yeah, but I still don't see his motivation. And who the hell broke him out of the Riverside police department?"

"Could have been anyone."

"But who?"

Betty shrugged, and then went over to get a closer look at the board. "So everyone is here," she pointed out. "Fred has an X, Hiram, too. And your dad, and Keller. Every single one of them is X'ed out. Does that mean he's going to try to kill everyone? Our parents aren't as safe as they think. I'm going to call Keller." Betty started to dial his number, but stopped when Jughead spoke.

"Holy shit." He drew her attention back to the murder board. "Cliff Blossom is here, too," Jughead said, pulling his picture off the board. "He's X'ed out."

"Oh, god," Betty said. "It's a photo of Cliff Blossom strung up in the barn and Thornhill. Who, besides the police, would have taking this?"

"Cliff Blossom's murderer," Jughead suggested. "Cliff must have crossed him too many times."

The revelation that Johnny murdered Cliff was big enough, but Betty felt like there was more, something else she needed to figure out. She pushed against the bulletin board, turned it around until the opposite side of it was showing. There was only one picture pinned on the felt board. It was of her, Jughead, Archie, and Veronica, sitting in a booth at Pop's. She recognized the outfit she had on. The picture was taken on the night of the Jubilee, and Johnny had taken it without them noticing they were there. But that wasn't the scariest part about all of it.

Every one of their faces was covered by a thick red X.

"Shit," Jughead said. "It looks like we're next on his hit list."