Chapter 4

~*~ Early Morning ~*~

Warm despite the chilly morning mist, Betty savored the familiarity of the trail through the woods while she ran. The sun hadn't yet reached Riverdale from its nest behind the mountains. Once it peaked, it would pierce the fog but not dissolve it. The perpetual vapor circling Riverdale was one of the things she missed. No, don't think about him… When her cellphone buzzed, Betty was glad for the interruption to her pointless, wandering thoughts.

"Cooper," she said, activating her Bluetooth earphone and then hitting mute. Whoever was calling did not need to listen to her pant as she jogged.

"Sheriff Keller – hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all, Sheriff," Betty replied, stopping to stretch as she chatted. "What can I do for you?"

"It's what you've already done. Got the DNA results back from Tate's attacker… She was female and related to him…"

Betty carefully rolled her neck, "Time to double-check the alibis."

"Yup. I'm going to collect DNA from them, too."

"I'll call the lab," Betty replied helpfully. "Did you notice the issue date on Tate's birth certificate?"

"I did not…"

Betty heard paper shuffling and then Keller grunted.

"I'll check with County records. See if they have any additional information. Thank you, Betty. This case would be gathering dust if it weren't for your influence."

"Anything for Pop Tate," Betty said thickly.

Arriving back at Thistlehouse to find Veronica, Toni, and Cheryl in the kitchen, Betty filled with inexplicable sense of family. Why did her friends inspire warmth that her family never had?

Toni pointed at the steaming tea kettle and fresh baking on the counter and Betty enjoyed visiting with the other ladies over black tea and warm cranberry muffins.

"I'm thinking about returning to New York tomorrow," Veronica sighed to a startled audience.

"Vee, you just got here," Betty objected.

"Veronica, your pores demand you take a longer break from the city," Cheryl announced, eyeing Veronica's face critically.

"It's not what I thought it would be," Veronica shrugged.

Betty suspected she meant Archie's lack of interest and shook her head. "I'd miss you," she added.

Veronica smiled, pleased. "We'll see…"

"How is your investigation going?" Toni asked Betty, staring with exaggerated innocence over her coffee mug.

"We're making progress," Betty replied. It was the politically-correct way to answer a question without answering the question.

"Your shiny FBI badge greasing any wheels..?"

Betty fixed an annoyed stare on Toni. Always too perceptive for her own good. Or had she been in touch with Jughead..?

"Is it a secret?" Toni fluttered her lashes at Betty with mock innocence.

"I don't advertise it…"

Veronica was wide-eyed but silent.

"The FBI recruited me in my second year at Yale. It's been the best decision I've made in my life," Betty explained briefly. She didn't need to share details. No one needed to know everything.

Cheryl, in her perpetually Zen-like calm manner, smiled. "Congratulations, Cousin. If you're happy, I'm happy. Just don't turn out to be a creep like your voyeuristic half-brother."

Charles Smith had been the Watcher, recording increasingly-disturbing videos of homes all over Riverdale which escalated into breaking and entering to record the homeowners asleep in their beds. Even though he hadn't hurt anyone, he'd been arrested and sentenced to twenty years.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Cheryl," Betty assured her. "Thanks for breakfast but I need to get cleaned up. Can I borrow your Jaguar, again, Toni?"

"Bring her back with a full tank," Toni winked.

The trailer housing Archie's office was a complete throwback to his father's and Betty wondered if it wasn't the same one. How strange that Archie would place himself in an environment guaranteed to give him daily reminders of his father; or, perhaps not so strange. Fred Andrews' death had hit Archie hard. Like the Sheriff's station, it was if there was a layer of grunge on everything.

"Betty! Hey, Al. I'll call you back," Archie pressed a button on his cell phone and leapt from his chair.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a smile that beamed through his eyes.

Grinning back, Betty bit her bottom lip. What she wouldn't have given to see that look from him years ago…

"Hey, Archie. I just wanted to say hello, see where you work."

How the hell did you let someone down who hadn't asked you out?

"I'm so glad you're here," he said, running a hand through his hair. He glanced about and pushed a wheeled chair towards her, gesturing for her to sit.

"Listen, I've been wanting to talk to you," he said, running his hand over his brow and then down his jaw.

Was he nervous? Oh, no. What was he going to say?

"Archie-"

"I've missed you. So much, Betty. And I was a naive kid to let you go."

"Archie, you didn't let me go. I left," Betty reminded him gently. "What happened at prom was a huge mistake. I knew it then and I haven't changed my mind. I'm not even the same person. I will always love you – as a friend."

The light in Archie's eyes dimmed a bit and he looked down at his hands.

"What are you doing with Jones?"

"That is none of your business," Betty snapped, hopping to her feet. Even if the answer was nothing – which it was – he had no right to ask.

"You're right, Betty. I'm sorry. Maybe - maybe I want something that we never had but I think you and me – we could be good together."

Betty shook her head, mystified. "My life is in New York now."

What life? The Spartan apartment where she slept when she was in New York?

"I could come see you," Archie said.

"You can. But please don't think we are anything that we're not."

"Alright, Betty," Archie conceded, unable to meet her gaze.

"You know," Betty hedged, hoping to redirect him. "Veronica will never say it but she's never cared for anyone like she cared for you."

"She left me here," he replied in a hard voice.

"So did I, Arch. We – you and I – hurt them. Badly. But, Veronica's here now and I think she still cares for you…"

"It was just a kiss."

Betty wanted to argue. It had been so much more than a kiss… It had happened during a slow song; her and Archie dancing in the middle of all of their friends. As if drawn to one another by unseen forces, Betty had lifted her head from his shoulder and their eyes had met. The next thing she knew, she and Archie pulled apart to find their dates gone. Dirty looks shot at them from every classmate.

"Let's get together again sometime before I leave, okay?" Betty offered. She wanted to leave. She needed some time alone with her thoughts.

"Sure thing, Betty," Archie replied, ineffectively hiding his hurt.

Betty climbed into the Jaguar, mind fixed on that night so many years ago. Had Jughead suffered long? She hoped not. He'd left for school but, apparently, come back. For the most part, Jughead had kept her at an arm's length. While they obviously still had chemistry, he wasn't letting down his guard with her. Not that she blamed him…

Betty realized she'd forgotten all about asking Archie what he'd done that Jughead took the blame for that landed him in prison. Sitting at a four-way stop, Betty contemplated turning around but then she noticed the motorcycle slowly rolling up behind her. If she hadn't stopped for longer than necessary, she might not have even noticed it.

"Damn it, Jug," she muttered. Why in the hell was he having her tailed? Well, she'd just have to ask him in person.

An eighteen wheeler rumbling towards the highway gave Betty an idea and she sped after it. Once there were six lanes to speed down, Betty opened up the Jag's V-8 and checked to make sure the motorcycle was still behind her. Yup.

Gunning the powerhouse of a motor, Betty passed the eighteen-wheeler and switched lanes so that she was just ahead of it. Then, she switched again and lowered her speed so that she was beside it, matching its speed.

With glee, she saw the motorcycle zoom ahead, obviously looking for her. That had been way too easy.

Betty took the next exit and doubled back, heading straight for the Cottonmouth.

The bar was empty but she was sure FP was nearby – there was a half-eaten sandwich on the bar and the television was showing a basketball game. Betty wondered if she could get FP to make her a sandwich but was distracted as her phone rang and she grinned to see that it was Jughead.

"Cooper," Betty said, taking a seat at the bar as she answered. Was he calling to find out where she was?

"Hey Betty. It's Jones."

"Hello," she replied, waiting.

"Look, I, uh, I may be tougher than I used to be but I can't watch you start something with Andrews."

Betty blinked. His associate had obviously reported on her trip to see Archie.

"I see," she said, wondering what the hell was wrong with the men in Riverdale.

"If I've got it wrong, tell me. You went to see him…"

The landline behind the bar rang and FP appeared from a back room.

"Cottonmouth," he answered, nodding at Betty in greeting.

"Where are you? Are you downstairs?" Jughead asked.

"Give me five minutes before you write me off completely, Jug." Betty replied smoothly. This was her opportunity to have the same level of heart-to-heart with Jughead that she'd had with Archie.

The apartment door was open when she topped the stairwell. She pulled it shut behind her, leaning on it for a moment. Jug was standing in his tiny kitchen, cellphone still in his hand.

"So, you ARE having me followed," she teased.

Jughead shrugged as if to say 'of course I am.'

"Archie and I are just friends. That's all we'll ever be," she said slowly, taking small steps towards him, as if he might startle and run. She caught his gaze; he seemed to be bruised.

"It's not my business. You don't owe me an explanation," he bit, turning away.

Betty closed the distance between them and tenderly touched his jaw, turning his face to hers. Same temper and passion he'd always had.

"Well, I'm going to give you an explanation. The FBI recruited me while I was at Yale. I travel and work and I don't make plans because I don't know where I'll be week-to-week. But I never stopped caring for you."

Betty hesitated only a fraction of a second. "And I definitely never stopped wanting you."

Was he was listening? Was it her words or his will that made him seek her mouth? He touched his lips to hers once, twice, and the third time, his hands splayed across Betty's back, pulling her closer as he devoured her. Heat spread like wildfire through her, igniting long-forgotten sensations. Betty twined her fingers tightly into his shirt. Had it always felt this good to be kissed?

As Jughead leaned into her, Betty's heart stuttered. He was familiar but no less exciting. Because it had been so long or because he still made her weak in the knees? His rising arousal was evident against her and she turned her head, gasping for air.

Hands still grasping his shirt, Betty nuzzled his chest.

"I'm scared to fall in love with you, again," she confessed in a whisper.

"That's okay, I won't. And it'll only be your own heart you break."

With a deep breath, Betty disentangled herself and glided to the table where the case file was scattered. She needed to clear her head.

"Keller got the DNA results back this morning. Pop was killed by a female relative of his."

"His family have alibis… But if he was adopted…"

Betty touched the tip of her nose and pointed at Jug.

"How about it, Jones? Still want to help me solve this case?"

"For Pop," he replied.

Betty nodded. "Keller is checking with the state on the birth certificate and he's going to ask Pop's family for DNA just in case…"

"So… We're waiting," Jughead mused, joining Betty at the table.

"Yeah," Betty sighed.

"Now, don't fall in love with me for asking this but what if we skip the whole love-thing and I just proposition you for sex..?"

A laugh escaped Betty before she could stop it. Damn him and his deadpan delivery. It wasn't fair. Jughead was smiling at her and her heart went staccato again.

Jarred by the buzzing of her phone, Betty pulled it from her jacket. Another laugh escaped her as she read the text message from Toni.

"Your dad is holding a barbecue for everyone, here at the Cottonmouth. It starts in an hour."

"Huh. He didn't tell me about that…"

"An hour," Betty sighed, playfully glancing at the ceiling. "What could we do in an hour?"

"Maybe twice," Jug supplied with a wolfish grin.