Author's note: Sorry this is kind of short. I've been dealing with a hurricane and my own raging insecurities and anxiety. Betty and I have a lot in common. Lol.

Coming awake, Betty sucked musty air, tinged with the flavor of earth, into her lungs. Her eyes flickered open to a darkened room. Her body ached, but she wasn't sure why. Wasn't sure where she was or how she'd gotten there. The last thing she remembered was going downstairs in her house while Jughead was upstairs. She had wanted to take her medicine a little early. The anxiety was back, making her heart race, her throat dry, and she wanted to abate it as much as she could.

But one minute, she'd been opening her pill bottle when the backdoor opened. She had expected Archie and Veronica to walk in, but as she started the turn around, something struck her from behind, and the world went dark. She blinked when some sort of warm liquid dripped down her temple and into her eye. She tried to move, to wipe it away, but her arms jerked, unable to move because her wrists were bound. She tilted her face up. Slats of wood were overhead. The only source of light was the moonlight coming through a small window on her right. She must be in some sort of basement.

In the silence, her labored breathing filled the air. Oh, God. Where was she and why was she tied up? Where was Jughead?

"Jughead!" she called. "Juggie! Where are you?"

"Betty?"

The voice was familiar and deep, but wasn't Jughead. "FP?" she asked. She felt movement behind her, someone taking her hand. She had to strain her neck, but she looked over her shoulder and could make out the shadow of Jughead's dad. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and there was a small cut on his cheek, but those were the only injuries she could see.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding," he said.

"You've got a black eye," she said. "Where are we?"

"No idea. Last thing I know, I was in the common room of that halfway house Keller stashed me in. I was on the phone with Jughead, there was scuffle at the front door, someone pushed me to the floor, and then I woke up here."

"I think we're in some sort of basement," Betty said. She felt the ground beneath her, sinking her fingers into wet earth, the rough fibers of the ropes around her wrists scratching against her skin.

"Where's Jug?" FP asked.

"Hopefully still at my house. We were all going to stay together until Johnny was arrested, but I went downstairs to the kitchen alone. Then I woke up here with you."

"I knew Johnny was crazy," FP said. "But I had no idea he was capable of this."

"He's not doing this alone," Betty said. "They had him at the station yesterday, handcuffed to the interrogation room table, but someone cut him free."

"It's got to be Hiram Lodge," FP said. "I've always thought he was involved with this. He got rich too fast, right out of high school. He came from nothing like me. One day, he was my neighbor at Sunnyside Trailer Park, the next he bought out all of Michael James's properties after his death."

There was some detail she recalled, something that she knew she knew, but couldn't grasp. So she thought for a moment. "The LLC who purchased everything. FAL LLC. L for Lodge. FA for Fred Andrews?"

"Yes," FP said. "It's how Fred was able to start up how construction company. Fred wanted to squeal, even on me. Hiram bought his silence."

It made sense, but it made her mad. "Why didn't you take a cut for keeping your mouth shut?"

"I did. Gave it to Fred for our company."

"And then he screwed you out of it."

"Don't blame him, Betty. Fred did what he had to. I was worse back then. Couldn't be trusted with anything. Lied, cheated, and stole. Fred knew I was trouble. If we'd stayed as partners, I would have ruined his business, ruined his livelihood that he used for his family. Fred did what he had to do."

"Just like you, Mr. Jones. Jughead loves you. He's proud of you. He knows that you're a good man." She wanted him to know, to hear it from her, just in case he never got the chance to hear it from Jughead.

With his back against her, she could feel his body shake as he weeped. He sniffled, and then said, "I'm not. Jughead wants to see the good in me when everyone else sees trash. I am so goddamn proud of that boy. He's going to be the one who gets out of this godforsaken town. Tell him to get out. Tell him to stay as far away from the Serpents as he can. The Serpents aren't bad, but everyone thinks they are. If he stays as their leader, he'll get beat down by this town. I want better for him. That's why I worked so damn hard to keep him away from the Snakes. I want him to have a better life than me. Tell him-" His voice cut of on a sob. "In case I don't make it to the other side of this, tell him I love him. Tell him for me, Betty. Promise me." He reached out as much as the confines of his ropes allowed and clutched her fingers.

"I promise, Mr. Jones."

As she held his hand and listened to him cry, it hit Betty that this could be the end for them both. Johnny could come back at any minute and kill them both. And what about Jughead? He could be next. She wouldn't allow it, not for Jughead, not for FP, not for herself. She wasn't going to let some crazy asshole steal her life away. She had so much to live for, so much still that she needed to do. She glanced down at her leg. Even though her jeans covered it, that scar she'd self inflicted would always be on her mind. Cutting herself seemed so stupid now when her life really was in danger. Why had she ever considered taking her own life? She had to get out of here, save FP and herself, and prevent any harm from coming to anyone else she cared about.

Letting go of FP's hand, she wiggled her wrists. The ropes were tight, but she could still move. She braced herself and yanked on the pole in the ground, trying to see how sturdy it was.

"It's a load bearing post," FP said. "It's not going to budge."

"Then we have to get the ropes off." She tugged again, the ropes digging into her skin, chaffing, cutting her there, but it didn't matter.

"How, Betty?" FP slumped forward, pulling her backwards a little. Their ropes must be interwoven.

"Lean your back against mine. I'll get my feet underneath myself, then you. We'll use each other for leverage. Once we stand up, we can work ourselves free of the ropes." FP did as Betty told him, and after a few attempts, she was up. FP followed. "Rub the ropes against the post. The wood is rough enough that it might fray them." Again FP followed her directions. They rubbed the ropes until Betty felt the skin of her wrists becoming raw.

But they both froze, when a door slammed overhead and lights flipped on, light filtering through the slats of the wood. Footsteps fell and FP grabbed for Betty's hand again. A set of voices discussed something, followed by a moment of silence, and then the sound of something being knocked over.

Something dripped onto Betty's cheek. For a moment, she thought the wound on her head must have opened up again. The scent hit her then. "Gas," she whispered to FP. "It's gasoline."

In unison, they started rubbing the ropes harder against the grain of the wood. Betty started yanking, panicking. She was breathing so hard that she started wheezing. What if she died here? What if she never got to live the life she'd dreamed of with him. He was everything and what if she never saw him again?

FP grabbed her hand, and whispered, "Breathe." She tried to, but couldn't suck in any air. "Betty." FP's voice was more forceful this time. "We're going to get out of this. You're going to see Jughead again."

She nodded. She needed to stay calm, to think. "Pull with me," she said. "Let's do it at the same time. I think we've compromised the ropes enough. One. . . two . . . three." They both yanked at the same time and the ropes fell away.

Betty spun around as FP's arms went around her. They hugged each other briefly before turning towards the window to their right. FP hoisted her up so that she could reach the window. "The lock is jammed," Betty said after several attempts of opening it. "I need something to break the glass."

FP let her down and they looked around the best they could in the darkness for something solid, but all they found was the muddy dirty floor. As Betty scrambled around, a new scent hit her. "Is that smoke?" she asked. She looked up and answered her own question when she saw smoke sifting through the slats in the wooden floor overhead.

"Shit," FP said. He lifted her up again. "Get that window opened."

She clawed the lock again, pulled and pried until her her nails broke, but after a struggle, she got it opened, and with FP's help, scrambled out. Once she was outside, she reached back into the window and pulled FP out. They were in some sort of wooded area, probably near Sweetwater River or Evergreen Forest.

FP grabbed her hand, and they took off running away from the cabin they'd climbed out of. She paused briefly to look back. It wasn't Michael James's cabin like she assumed. This one was rundown, the roof caving in. And currently on fire. Flames billowed out of the hole in the roof, burst through the broken windows. Even a hundred or so feet away, heat radiated off the cabin.

"Where are we?" Betty asked FP. "Do you recognize anything?"

"Not really, but I think we're by Sweetwater, near the edge of Southside." He tugged on her wrist. "We need to get out of here."

Leaving the burning cabin behind them, they dashed through the pitch black woods, dodging trees and downed branches. After about a mile, FP had to stop to catch his breath.

"I don't think anyone followed us," Betty said. She leaned against a tree trunk and sucked air into her tight lungs.

"Do you have a phone on you?" FP asked.

Betty checked her back pockets. "No. I left it upstairs." Jughead must be going crazy with worry for her. She needed to get back to him. She needed to make sure he was okay, too. Now that they had stopped, she shivered in the brisk night air. They had taken her jackete. They'd probably left it behind to mock Jughead that they'd taken his girlfriend.

"I think if we head due east," FP said, pointing to his right. "That we'll find our way to the Southside."

"Okay," Betty said.

They went in that direction, trudging along for over an hour. Then Betty saw a light in the distance. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Maybe they have a phone."

They started running again, and didn't stop until they came to a clearing with a cabin. But it wasn't any cabin.

"This is Michael James place," Betty said.

"But it burned down," FP said.

"And then someone rebuilt it. Come on. I know they have power there. We can call Jughead."

As they rounded the treeline, they saw the police cruiser at the same time. FP's arm shot out, just like when she was little and her mom had to slam on the breaks when she was driving their station wagon. FP pushed Betty behind himself, reminding of how protective Jughead could be. Jughead. She had find her way through the darkness and get back to him.

"Keller?" FP said. FP pulled her into the shelter of a patch of bushes. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"You told Jughead to trust him, but do you?"

"I did," he replied. "He put me in that half-way house to protect me. I want to believe Keller. He's always been self-serving, but has always stuck up for us, too. But right before I was taken, I was just hanging up the phone with Jughead, and overheard a scuffle at the front of the building. I heard someone say Keller's name, but then everything went black."

"Was Keller there?"

"No, at least I don't think. I heard a fight, Keller's name, and next thing I know, I woke up in that basement with you."

The front door to the cabin swung open and FP pulled Betty deeper into the cover of the bushes, hiding them from view. Sheriff Keller stepped onto the porch, but turned back to the cabin, talking to someone who was coming out behind him.

"Hiram Lodge," Betty whispered when he came more clearly into view. He was dressed in a silvery blue suit, his black hair slicked back from his face. He adjusted his cufflinks as he came up even with Sheriff Keller. They talked a little, and then got into Keller's cop car and drove away.

They waited a moment more before making their way up to the porch. Betty tried the front door, but it was locked. She pulled out a bobby pin from her hair and within seconds, the knob twisted and they were inside.

"I see why Jughead loves you so much," FP said as he stepped around her so that he was in front.

"Why do you think that Keller and Hiram were here?" Betty asked.

"I don't know. Maybe they were meeting out here so no one saw them. Maybe they were meeting Johnny."

"Do you really think Sheriff Keller aided and abetted Fred's killer?" Betty asked.

"Not Keller," FP said. "He's too much of a chickenshit to do something that against the law again. But Hiram, I wouldn't put it past him."

"I wouldn't either," Betty said. FP followed her into the kitchen, where she picked up the phone and dialed Jughead's number. She waited as the phone rang, but then something clicked. She wasn't just hearing the ringing or her end, but she was hearing Jughead's ringtone.

FP heard it, too. He stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, and neared the closet where the ringtone was coming from. FP ripped open the door, and there was Jughead, tied up and gagged on the floor of the closet.