Jughead stared down at the file he was holding in his hands. Patient's name: Elizabeth Cooper but went by Betty. In Sweetwater Pines treatment for an eating disorder and self-harm. He wasn't a therapist per se, but he did work with people his age on life coaching experiences. He studied her picture, noting the fact that her green irises held a haunting sadness about them as she smiled into the camera. He wondered who, if anyone, had done her wrong. Sighing softly, his eyes fell back to her weight. 5'5 and ninety-five pounds. That wasn't a good look on anybody, let alone someone who was purposefully starving themselves for that goal. It was attainable, yes, but at what cost?

Just then, FP Jones, his dad, walked into the main part of the room with Sweet Pea and Joaquin trailing after him. "Jug, new patients are about to be here. Remember, not one of you are therapists. You're just helping them feel like they can relate to people their age."

Jughead nodded as Sweet Pea spoke up. "None of us went to school to be therapists. We're just volunteers helping people. Or at least, trying to help people."

FP smiled as his best friend. "Good man. Thank you, Sweet Pea."

Just then, the bell rang and FP walked to go answer the door, letting in the newcomers as they came. Jughead kept his eyes peeled for the woman who he was supposed to be a mentor for and when she walked in, all painfully thin and jutting bones, he had the wind knocked out of him. She needed to eat something. He wondered when she last had a substantial meal. She stood to the side; hands clasped primly behind her as who he figured were her parents headed towards his dad. "FP Jones? I'm Alice Cooper and this is my husband, Hal. This is our daughter, Betty."

Jughead made his way to them, stopping just shy of Betty. "Hi. I'm Jughead Jones. Your mentor for while you're at Sweetwater Pines."

Betty looked at him, then cast her eyes back down in front of her. She didn't say anything in response – not that Jughead thought she would. He got the impression that she was shy. He looked to Alice and Hal Cooper and Alice spoke up. "When will she have phone privileges?"

"Well, that depends on her," FP replied in lieu of Jughead actually saying anything. "Betty's got to earn that right. She needs to put in the hard work towards her treatment."

"Okay, Betty, work hard," Alice said, and the blonde woman nodded.

"I will," she murmured, offering up no more than that and Jughead took it as his cue to fill in some of the blanks.

"We also have to make sure that Betty is speaking to someone safe, Mrs. Cooper," he smiled thinly. "You understand. Wouldn't want to set back her recovery." Then, he was picking up Betty's suitcases and handing them off to Sweet Pea. "Get these to her room, will you?

"You got it, Jug," the taller replied, smiling at Betty gently. She nodded at him once, eyes trailing after his form as he carried her things down the hall and Jughead turned back to her.

"Let me show you around our facility, Betty," he said softly, knowing the other woman had to be scared, at least a little bit.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, and Jughead guided her down the hallway and away from her parents, ready to begin the tour.

"We've got the yoga studio, which you are allowed to join, we'll just need to make sure you have a mentor with you. We've got the cafeteria, which you're free to eat in whenever."

"Can I eat in my room?" Betty asked softly, and Jughead sighed.

"Unfortunately, not," he admitted. "We need to make sure you're actually eating. Do you not like being by people?"

She picked at something on her skin and he caught sight of the scars crisscrossing their way up her arms and made a mental note to speak to her about that in their meeting later that night. "I just…I'm shy."

Her cheeks hued pink at that statement and Jughead wondered why she was embarrassed. "Well, you can eat in my office with me but I have to make sure you're eating."

"I'm allowed to eat with my mentor?" Betty asked curiously.

"Yes," Jughead replied. "Since I'm not your therapist – none of us are, we're just volunteers – you can eat with me the nights you don't feel like going to the cafeteria. It's okay."

She nodded once. "I'd appreciate that."

He continued to lead her down the hallway. "We've got the group therapy room that Sweet Pea, the guy who took your luggage, leads. We've got art – dorky, I know, but it helps people heal – and Toni leads that. Cheryl Blossom – Toni's girlfriend – comes in once a week to do massages for eating disorder patients so you're more than able to go get that done by her if you wish."

"I know Cheryl," Betty said quietly. "She's my cousin but we didn't spend a lot of time together growing up."

He nodded. Jughead knew that Betty and Cheryl were cousins; that the vivacious redhead was worried about her family being in treatment and was why she schedule the massage for that week. She wanted a chance to talk to her. "How are your parents?"

"Well," Betty said. "They're good people. My mom is heartbroken that something like this has happened and she's tried to help me several ways but still, it's my own fault I'm in here."

"Betty," Jughead said softly, turning on his heel and placing his hand on her shoulder. "It is not your fault that you're in here. You didn't – didn't – ask for an eating disorder to develop. More often than not, they're signs of things out of our control; of wanting to make sense of things and feel in control."

"I have no one to blame it on," Betty whispered. "My mom can be demanding but she's never once said anything about my weight and I know she loves me. My dad too. It's hard for my older sister to see me in a place like this."

"Are you and your older sister close?" Jughead asked curiously.

"Polly is my best friend," she murmured, clutching a cross on a thin chain around her neck. "She gave me this – I don't know, as an incentive to get better, I guess. I'm just really embarrassed I have to be here in the first place."

"You did nothing wrong, Betty," Jughead intoned quietly, wishing more than anything that she would believe that. He knew that people who lived with eating disorders needed to be reassured more often than not. So, he'd do that for her.

He stopped outside of her room and tapped on the doorframe. "This is your room. Door can't be completely shut, per my father's rules but you're allowed to have it cracked. You get to spend time in here outside of group and outside of our – meetings, I suppose – and then whenever you're just having a bad day."

"Okay." Her voice was painfully small and he saw unshed tears in her eyes.

Sighing, he spoke up in quiet tones once more. "Please remember this isn't a punishment."

"I know," she whispered, single tear rolling down her face.

He stared at her for a minute before nodding his head. "I'll leave you to get settle. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Okay, thanks," she murmured.

He left her to it.