Thank you to my reviewers: Chloe0x0, Ava, Em, and Guest!
Ava: It is, since they literally have seen NO ONE for like 8 months. Ah, human interaction, eh? And glad you like the 100 crossovers, we'll be seeing a bit more before this story is up. Also, you've reached a drabble if you would like one!
Track is 'If The World was Ending' by JP Saxe
Sorry for the delay. Just seemed a bit...too close to home to write this story of late XD
Also, I've been warning you all about some really dark shit that's occurred/will occur in the next few chapters, but specifically, I do want to put a trigger warning here for attempted rape. It's not in detail and skirts around it, but it's alluded to within this chapter.
March 12th, 2019
Betty's friends appear in her cell.
Unlike the times by the tree, she has not summoned them here. She has not brought them forth. They cling to the edges, like shadows, whispering to her. Begging her.
She thinks that it's her mind, the ruthless part that she inherited from her father, that is doing everything it can to keep her alive. It's trying to keep her sane.
Or, on the other end, she truly has gone crazy.
After she killed the guard, after the Predators all but kicked her stomach in, after she hit her head she just felt fuzzy. The world felt out of focus, like someone adjusting a lens, and she can't quite think right.
This is how the entire timeline feels. She cannot differentiate between days or nights or this or that. She moves mechanically, and after she sips water or finds remains of food on the ground, she won't remember it. Her brain feels jolted around like someone took her skull and shook as hard as they could.
So, she cannot tell anyone how long it was after her blood dripped and dried beneath her that Archie appeared. He came first.
He paced the edges of the space, just out of her vision, fingers seeming to touch over the walls. He'd been here too, she recalls, in a prison cell. He was here the night the world ended.
He talks to her about football and fighting. He talks and tells stories and tries to keep her interested, asking her on occasion to nod or to murmur, to make sure she's still there. She knows it's dangerous to sleep, so she hasn't caught much at all, worried she'll slip under and never wake up.
Archie sometimes tells her, face pinched, to drink some water. Perhaps it's only her subconscious, knowing she's a stubborn ass. Her mind might know that if it's not her friend's encouragement, she might not have the strength to pick herself up. But when Archie asks, his eyes solemn and serious, she cannot do much but try to abide.
Veronica pulls her lip back in disgust at the conditions of the room. She swipes a finger over the metal bed, runs the pads of her thumbs across the thin sheet Betty has pulled and curled herself in, takes stock of the conditions.
Veronica tells Betty she has to be strong. She reminds Betty of all that the two of them have accomplished, keeps telling Betty she is a woman to be feared. She tells Betty that this cannot be her end, not here in this dingy room. She is a person who deserves a better place to die.
Veronica insists this will not be it.
She is the part of Betty that reminds herself she needs to see this through.
Jughead is always frantic and never inside her cell with her. She thinks it's her mind messing up Jug and Jellybean. They look similar enough. Sometimes, she'll hear Jughead and when she moves her head, she'll see him in the place Jellybean should be.
Sometimes, it's just Jellybean, with her tear-streaked face and fingers outstretched, as though she might be able to reach Betty's cell if she stretched far enough.
The other girls, while impressed Betty managed to take down a guard with just her hands, have all but written her off. Each day they seem to wait, expecting her death at any moment.
Jelly cannot help but fear they are right.
"You gotta stay with me," Jellybean whimpers, but sometimes it's Jughead, "You can't leave me too."
Betty tries to formulate a response, but the words are jumbled like marbles in her lips. She thinks if she could force any sound at all, it wouldn't sound like English to begin with. Still, she tries, moving her lips. This seems to pacify Jellybean, sure that at least right then, Betty is not inches from death.
But that's not true. She is.
Betty can feel it prowling, just beneath. If she closes her eyes and waits, she feels like she is teetering on the precipice, her feet half-off a high building. If she leans too far forward, Betty will fall and never open her eyes again.
Some part of her, when she is lucid, knows this is the end. After the Alpha returns, the most likely answer is that she'll be executed. She cannot fight her way out, and damn, she's tried. But her arms don't do what she wants anymore and her brain is scrambled eggs.
And yet she is in this waiting room, this silent moment, waiting for the end. She does not know what day it is or when he's expected back, but every moment or every time a guard opens that door, Betty inhales, fully expecting that by the end of the hour, she'll only be a memory.
She would cry if she could right now. She thinks of Sweet Pea and how she should have just told him. You'd think with the apocalypse that she'd learned to say what she meant, but she's been dumb. So dumb.
She can't recall his voice. It's as though someone has gone into her mind and wiped that away, clean. She can see his face and feel the vibrations of his laugher, but his voice is just missing... a corrupted file.
Out of all the things that are barreling toward her, this is the most upsetting, she decides.
She really wants to remember his voice. She wants her brain to work right so she can think of it. She wants to pretend he's saying that he loves her as she goes so that her last thought is a happy one.
But the universe won't even give her that, will it?
It's so...cold.
She didn't remember the factory being so chilly, but the iciness grips her and is unrelenting. She can faintly hear Jelly across the way, saying something, but someone has taken her voice and strangled it. Betty can't make out words, just the inflection.
She's worried about Betty, more so than she was...yesterday? An hour ago? A year ago? Betty cannot figure out the timeline, but she should be worried about Jelly's franticness.
As a shiver ripple through Betty, she feels a pathetic laugh rise up.
She's sick and she's dying and probably on her last leg, what with the way Jellybean is looking at her right now.
She bets that it's one of her cuts, prone to infection. The room is sort of musty and damp and a breeding ground for all sorts of bad things to worm inside of her, figuratively and literally. She hasn't had any care for her wounds, she hasn't had food since they left her, and she drank the last of her water what feels like just moments ago, though it was likely hours or even a day.
She's surprised she's still alive, to be honest.
Her body is really fighting this, but it has to be useless, right?
"Betty, please...please...just...I'll figure this out," Jelly is begging, sobbing. She wants to tell the kid not to worry about her, to worry about herself. She wants to remind Jelly that she is capable and any sister of Jughead is more than skilled to get herself out of this.
She wants to tell Jelly how to find her and Sweet Pea's place after she's gone. Someone should use it. It should not be a mausoleum of their lives; Betty couldn't bear that.
The doors open and the guards come in. She watches through her blurry vision as Jellybean leaps up, reaching for them.
"She's dying in there! You can't just leave her! You have to do something. I'll do anything, just ask. Just...save her!" Jellybean implores, fingers gripping the metal bars so tight that they're white.
Betty feels the implications settle on her chest and she is disgusted. Not at Jelly for suggestions, but disgusted that Jelly would even consider the fact that Betty would be okay that she just offered that. She isn't worth it. Betty's life is not worth that sort of promise.
"Lucky day, or not," One of the guards replies breezily, "Alpha wants to see her. Might keep her around." He says, as though he enjoys giving false hope. Jelly believes it, still childlike enough to think that maybe not everyone is a liar.
"Or," The second guard says, laughing so hard he can't get the words out, like this is some grand joke, "He'll decide to decorate his office with her entrails."
They unlock the door and both of them have guns out. What the fuck is she going to do to them like this, she wonders. She does feel a flash of pride that even an inch from death they are mildly afraid of her.
She bares her teeth as they come. She will not act like a simpering puppy, tail tucked between its legs. She will snarl and bite and show her wolven fangs.
Still, she is in no match to fight. They pick her up like a ragdoll, dragging her unceremoniously and clumsily from the cell. They do not try to make this comfortable for her; her whole body aches and her head pounds. Her feet drag across the ground, leaving a trail and dirt on her soles.
She swallows, but her throat is completely dry. She is hardly aware of where she is or where she's been taken. She is not with it enough to memorize the halls or take notice of how many guards there are or plan like she usually is. Heck, she's glad she's even awake for this, but then again, that definition is a bit loose right now.
She is shoved into a room and she falls on a really soft carpet. Something well-maintained, expensive. Something she'll get filthy and this gives her a small sort of satisfaction.
"Leave us."
The voice above her is imposing and something not to be questioned. She didn't get a good look at the Alpha back when he first was in the line; she was too busy trying to figure out her own escape. She just noted him in passing.
He lifts her head up by her hair, his fist clenched unnecessarily harshly in her roots.
"You...Cooper…" He spits her name out. She tries to make some observations about him, but she's not at her best game. She picks up on two things; he's a bit older than the rest. Probably a 5th year senior or a graduate student. Someone who was able to take charge and flash his seniority. Second; he was military trained. Likely ROTC, from the way he holds himself, to how everyone's in line around him.
"You know, had we had the foresight to see that you'd be so much trouble, I would have said to just kill you and your partner from the start," He says, his face pulled into a deep frown, "No bitch is worth it."
He lets her go and her face flops back onto the carpet. She does not have the strength to hold it up. He nudges her over with his foot, forcing her onto her back. She stares up, the harsh lights of his office agonizing on her eyes.
"You really are his daughter," He says with a hint of shock, "Fuck. Some don't believe you, but you're his spitting image. Terrifying, really. And you have that same look in your eyes." He says, crouching down, a finger trailing her face. He sighs, "You could have been so...interesting. I would have made you feel lavished. The daughter of the Black Hood as my personal pet? Fuck, could you imagine?" He asks, as though it's some great fantasy she should so desperately want, "But you had to go and kill the kid. You know I can't let you live, right?"
Betty had come to that conclusion, but she'd never let him know that.
"Go...to...hell…" She croaked out, using just about all her strength to keep herself awake to say that. Something like delight gleamed in the Alpha's eyes.
"Still fighting. Suppose I can appreciate that. Damn, I wish I could keep you. I'd enjoy breaking that spirit."
He stands, crossing his arms, "Still, I'd be remiss if I never got to feel you. Give you a taste of what you could have had, I suppose. We can do it easy or hard, doll."
He picks Betty up. She realizes belatedly what he means and she thrashes. Or rather, she tries with all her strength, but it's not much. It's more pathetic jolts, something that would hardly hurt him.
Still, he gets the idea. Somehow, it seems like he's thrilled she's being difficult.
"Just remember, you asked for it," He snarls, that look of a true monster alighting behind his eyes as he hauls her up, shoving her hard. She hits a desk and he pushes her down over it, smashing her face into the cool metal.
It's only now that tears prickle on the edge of Betty's vision. She will never admit it to him, never stop trying to squirm away or let in, never let him see but fuck...she's just so afraid. Really, truly, gut-wrenchingly afraid.
Sweet Pea is dead. She is alone.
She isn't sure why she's still fighting.
"Elizabeth, oh."
Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her mom. For the first time since the world was turned on its back, Betty really wants her mother. She wants to feel her embrace, burry herself into her mom's expensive blazers, and cry and forget this. She wants her mom to scare away the nightmares and to tell her it's going to be alright.
Even if it's not.
She bites her tongue, refusing to sob, but her shoulders quiver and she can feel the hot tears gathering beneath her face.
"You can let go. It's okay. You've done what you can. I'm so proud of you, Elizabeth," Her mother croons. Betty can almost feel her mother's hand on her face, on her cheeks.
The darkness is spotting on her vision. Perhaps it would be better. Maybe she should just let go now, never have to experience this horror that is moments away from occurring. She has fought, and fought, and fought but everyone has an end.
Her mom is there, soft and warm, and Betty wants to go with her. She wants to find Sweet Pea and Jughead and Polly on the other side. She thinks that maybe she's just about done.
Her palms ache. She turns her face just enough to open her hand. She didn't realize it until now, but she still has Sweet Pea's tags clenched tightly. Maybe Alpha didn't notice. Maybe he did and he just doesn't give a shit.
Her flesh is still crisscrossed and bruised in lines from where the chains pulled against her. The corners of the tags aren't meant to be sharp, but as she clenches, she can feel it skidding against her palm.
The pain that she creates as she presses it harder is a great way for her to ignore everything else. Touch, sight, and smell are all focused on the place where she's drawn just a dot of blood. All but her hearing is distracted.
There's lots of noise that is coming through her ears at weird decibels. Some things that should be loud, like Alpha slamming his hand near her ear, are quiet, no louder than a pin dropping. Others are horrifyingly enhanced, like the sound of his belt buckle or his fingers hitting the metal top. It sounds like a cadence of gunshots.
Betty's last thought, as she strains and blinks, is that maybe it actually is a gunshot. Still, the smell of her mother's perfume is far too intoxicating and Betty slips into nothingness.
XXxx
The four slip down the fallen tree like panthers. Usually, Sweet Pea is like a bull in a china shop, but this morning, he is as graceful as ever. They are silent, knives drawn.
There is something different about killing live humans compared to walkers. Yes, Sweet Pea has killed hundreds of walkers since the world ended, but a part of him has forgotten the satisfaction that taking a life brings. It's something different, he considers, to feel the warmth of flesh and then moments later feel the hot, slick blood on your hand. That transfer, he thinks.
He used to think that made him a bad person. Maybe it does.
It's not like he went out looking for it, but if someone deserves it, he can't say that he isn't a little happy by the outcome.
And these fuckers deserve it.
By the time that they're inside and anyone outside has noticed something is amiss, they are already pouncing, snarling into action.
Their plan is easy. Some may call it 'inelegant' or 'half-baked and tied with hope', but Sweet Pea calls it concise.
They are going to kill any male they see. Octavia confirmed from her countless hours watching this place, learning their movements, that they don't keep boys for pets. To be gay is to not be manly, and this is a place reeking of toxic masculinity. So, any man they come across is a Predator, or choose at one point to be one. Thus, they all must die.
They're all wearing some sort of cameo too, so it's easy to tell.
They make a vow not to kill any girls. Girls aren't allowed into the higher ranks. Some might try to attack, but Brad explained they would likely be influenced by Stockholm Syndrome and they couldn't hold that against them. They were to incapacitate these women warriors, but not kill them.
"We can't even imagine what they've had to face," Brad murmurs, a frown deepening his expression as he considered this.
Most girls will probably run, and that's fine.
Octavia has never been able to get inside. But no matter...they're just going to mow down the entire company.
The main floor is thrown into immediate bedlam. By the time the guards realize what's happening, nearly twenty of their brethren lay slain. Octavia counts as she fells the guards. She fights like she's been doing it her whole life; there is something brutal but also beautiful with how she kills them. Sweet Pea won't say it out loud, but she's a better fighter than he is.
He was raised by street rules, which are handy no doubt but are more stabby-stab than the gracefulness that Octavia brings. It's like she's dancing.
Illian is methodical in the sort of way that shows a tight military constraint. He is able to see what's coming before it happens, side-swipe, and then take someone down by their back. He is not as quick as Octavia, but he has a better pace going. It's like he's running a marathon and he does not want to tire himself.
Brad is someone who Sweet Pea wouldn't want to meet in a dark alleyway either. He goes for where it will hurt. He's already gutted three people, knowing exactly where to drag his knife across their stomach and open them like fish. His medical training is not saving lives here, well it's saving the girl's lives Sweet Pea considers, but otherwise, he is using his knowledge against these men. He is the most accurate if he wants to be. Sweet Pea thinks that about every fifth man he tortures just a bit not because his knife missed, but because he likes to see their face as he obliterates them.
As expected, most of the girls, as soon as their grips slipped from the hands of guards, bolted. There are a surprising few that picked up fallen knives and guns and turned on the guards too, helping the group of four. Sweet Pea supposes that there have to be lots of can-do women left in the apocalypse, and this proves it.
One would think that an operation hundreds-strong would not be so easily felled by a group of four teens, not when they have guns and Sweet Pea has his hands and a trusty knife, along with his bat, which he hasn't even touched yet.
However, here lies the issue. The Predators pretend like they are a well-oiled machine, but in truth, they are rusted like the mechanics that lay dormant here. They are just a bunch of sick fucks, no loyalty among each other, all looking to one-up the next. There is no sense of meaning or worth and their lives exist merely to terrify. They do not work together, they work like cornered, starving dogs.
Sweet Pea and his group work like one body, foreseeing issues and fixing them. They have each other's back; already Sweet Pea has killed a dude inches away from bludgeoning Octavia and Illian has snapped the neck of a man that tripped Sweet Pea.
As they carve their way through the main area, some of the Predators flee. They just look at each other and send wordless signals to each other. The four break off in all directions. The remaining Predators here will be felled by the heavy line of women, quivering but holding guns.
Sweet Pea's directive is to find Betty.
He stabs a guard fumbling for keys near a locked door, sinking his knife through his eye. He pulls it out, not bothering to wipe it off, and picks up the keys. He unlocks the door to find a long row of cages. Girls of all ages crowd the doors, eyes wary, and untrustworthy.
Sweet Pea puts the knife in his mouth and works on opening the first door. Immediately, a woman with a fierce face tries to take a stab at him.
"Woah, I'm letting you go! I'm not a Predator! We're springing you," Sweet Pea says, managing to catch her arm, just enough to stop her. He throws her the keys, "Work on getting that side out. I'll do this one."
The woman regards him with a scowl but sets to work. Sweet Pea unlocks the doors as quickly as he can. Most girls send him a grateful look and high-tail it. The conditions are barbaric.
As he comes to the fifth cage, it's already open, and something glimmers in the dirt.
His dog tag. One part of it, at least.
His stomach rolls. He knows without a doubt that this is Betty's cage, or it was. She was here.
But there's blood everywhere and something in him just knows.
"Sweet Pea!"
He turns, and at first, he thinks that he's delirious. Or that ghosts exist, like walkers do, and Jughead is here to yell at him.
He didn't keep Betty safe. If she's dead, it's all his fault. Jughead's spirit is here to pummel him, to tell him he's worthless, and he'd deserve it.
He nearly faints on sight.
Then, he blinks and he realizes this can't be Jughead. It's a girl, first off, and she's tiny. Her face is full of grime and her hair is tucked into a braid. But fuck, it's Jughead, but female. It's the most unnerving thing Sweet Pea has ever seen in his life.
Sweet Pea only knows her name, he thinks, because of FP. He blinks again, just to be sure that it isn't his old Serpent-mate standing in front of him.
It's not. That's worse. He wants to vomit right now, staring at how small and young she is, knowing why she's here. She is not in the mood for pity, however.
"Sweet Pea, that's you, right?" She demands, her eyes lit with the same fury he often saw in Jughead's.
"Jellybean?" He offers with a wince.
"Betty thought you were dead!" Jellybean whispers, "Shouldn't you be dead?"
Sweet Pea touches the place on his neck with a harsh nod, "Perhaps."
"It doesn't matter," Sweet Pea shakes out her head at the warble in her voice, "Betty's in trouble. She might already be...I can't lose her too." The kid breaks down in front of him and he snaps back to action. For as much spirit as she has, she is still young. So young.
"Where."
"Alpha wanted to see her. She killed a guard after he said he killed you." Jellybean's eyes are glowing, "It was the most badass thing I ever saw. But she's in bad shape, fuck."
"Language, kid!" Sweet Pea says, "Where would that be."
Jellybean points up. As he moves, she begins to follow.
"No," He says, pushing her back a little, "You aren't coming." Whatever is going to go down, she doesn't need to see it, "Wait outside. I promise I'm going to do everything I can to save her."
Jellybean seems ready to argue, her face twisted, but she relents, "I know you will," She says after a long second, "Do you have a gun or a knife?"
Sweet Pea pats down the guard he killed in front of the door. All of the women who were in here are gone, even the one who still looked like she wanted to kill him too. He finds a switchblade.
"Little Jug, you'd better scram," He snaps, and something in his voice sends her darting away. He feels bad. He should have escorted her out. She's just a kid.
But Betty…
He's a selfish person and yeah, he'll pick Betty every time.
It's not hard to find the Alpha's lair. It's a big room in the back; it might have been for storage, but the farther back he goes, the cleaner it is. It just reeks of metaphorical ass-kissing.
He kills three more Predators on his way, silencing them quickly. They fall and thump on the ground, only one of them managing to get a weapon pulled. The aim is really far off though and the bullet digs itself into the concrete behind Sweet Pea.
Thank god for StormTrooper- like aim.
He shoulders his way inside. The door isn't even locked; what a complete asshat, believing that he shouldn't need to.
What he sees makes him go red.
The Alpha, the one Octavia pointed out less than half an hour ago, is holding Betty down on the desk by her neck, pressing his hands into her throat and he is not letting go.
And his pants are down.
He'd been wondering if the leader of this little group should go slow or go fast, but all at once, he's not totally in control of his own actions. He slams into the man, who is beefier than he would have expected, knocking him to the ground.
Betty slumps onto the carpet, and she looks…
She looks…
He doesn't focus on that. He misses a wayward swing from Alpha, and he is going to give this jerk no time to win. He has the upper-hand. All his little fantasies about dragging this out are gone.
Sweet Pea bashes his head in with his bare hands.
He's completely unrecognizable when Sweet Pea is done. He should be horrified about what he just did. This was not done in any quick manner, nor any clean way. It's not like the other kills. He didn't even use a weapon, just his own brute strength. It's pure and utter agony screaming through him and his palms are covered in blood, gray matter, and other fluids.
But the Alpha is dead.
Sweet Pea stumbles over to Betty, tripping over the rug and fall beside her.
She is completely catatonic, her skin a powdery gray shade and her neck forming sharp, ugly bruises already.
And she's not breathing.
Sweet Pea pulls her head into his chest and cries. He presses his palms to her cheek, his head to her crown, and wishes he were just moments earlier. Or days. Or that they'd never gone at all.
Betty is gone and everything is worse.
Time is meaningless. He's not sure how long it's been when Octavia waltzes in, whistling and grinning. The noise outside has died down, but he's hardly noticed until now.
"87! Eight-fucking-seven! Can you beat tha-," She breaks off her gloating abruptly, staring wide-eyed at Sweet Pea. He lifts his head, hardly able to see straight through his whimpering, his face a puffy mess of mucus and tears.
She takes one look and bolts the other way. Faintly, Sweet Pea can hear her calling Brad.
Brad arrives immediately. He's covered head to toe in blood, much like Sweet Pea and Octavia. He's still holding a knife, but as soon as he sees Sweet Pea, his entire mask drops.
He goes from a killing machine to a doctor just like that, a snap of his fingers. His face is unbearably soft, apologetic, as he ghosts over Betty almost like he's afraid to touch her.
Sweet Pea is unmovable. Behind him, Octavia makes a sound when she sees Alpha. Sweet Pea isn't sure if it's horror or respect, and he doesn't have the mental capacity to care. Octavia drags Alpha away.
"Sweet Pea!" Brad grabs Sweet Pea's head and shakes hard. Sweet Pea startles, trying to look at Brad, tear his eyes away, "She has a pulse."
"What?"
"It's faint, not going to lie, but it's there. See?" Brad takes Sweet Pea's palms and places it at her wrist. It's scarcely there, and when Sweet Pea checked he mistook it for his own clumsy movements, but it's there.
Betty is still alive.
"She's in bad shape," Brad is examining her now, "I can try to save her. There has to be a medical wing in here somewhere…" Brad says, shaking his head.
"No," Sweet Pea's voice is rough, "If she's going to die, it won't be here." He can't imagine a worse end for her. It would kill him too, "She'll die at home. We have medical supplies, lots."
"And it's five hours away, at least," Brad argued, "This is not the hill to die on." Though Sweet Pea winces at the word choice, Brad stands firm.
"I won't let her waste away in this place where he…" Sweet Pea looks back to where Alpha was, blood and skull still left behind. He can't get the words out, "I fucking refuse. Do what you need to do to keep her alive, but we're going away from this hell-hole."
Brad pinches his nose, swearing up a storm and storms off to find some supplies. Deep down, Sweet Pea is sure he's a good guy. Brad does want to save Betty.
He picks Betty up gingerly, so carefully, as though she's made of glass.
In the main area, Octavia has strung the remains of Alpha up like a fucked-up scarecrow. Below, in his blood, she's written, 'WHAT DO YOU SAY OF YOUR GOD NOW?' in jagged, angry letters.
Illian is gathering girls. All around them they lay in a graveyard of two hundred men, all stabbed in the head to prevent them from coming back. There are still a few girls around, but the far majority have taken their leave.
Good.
Octavia is nowhere to be found. Sweet Pea hesitates, still holding Betty, unsure what to do next.
Brad appears back to the front twenty minutes later, a pillowcase stuffed full, still swearing. Sweet Pea isn't sure he ever stopped.
Octavia appears too with a huge box she's dragging behind her.
"Heard she's still kicking," Octavia says, and there's sorrow in her voice.
"She's strong," Sweet Pea manages, though his voice is rough and watery.
"I'm going to take the girls from our group back," Ilian says, "I'm assuming you're going home?" He asks Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea nods once, "You did a great thing. We did a great thing. Stay out of trouble, right?"
Something like humor passes between them, if only for a brief second.
"Brad is going back with you, for the time being, apparently," Octavia says, eyeing the medical bag, "Good. He'll save her."
"You?"
"Most of my friends aren't here. I gotta...find them…" She says. The box must be filled with files and records.
"Come back with us," Sweet Pea is talking before he can realize what he's asking, "At least for a few days, while Brad fixes her. It's a good, safe place. Food, water, shelter…" He isn't ready to say goodbye to someone else, even if they only met a day ago. She feels like part of the Serpents, "You need to make a game-plan anyway about where you'll go."
"O, he's right. Do it in a house instead of a godforsaken tree camp," Brad says, "And we'll go together. They still have my girl somewhere too." He says simply. Brad's gaze slides over Betty; maybe he's seeing his own girlfriend, and imagining if this were her.
The trio goes outside. Illian's already gone. Most of the cars, unsurprisingly, have been stolen, off to wherever these girls came from. Sweet Pea cusses, realizing that he can't carry Betty back, not like this, until-
"Uhm, there's a child waving to you." Octavia nudges Sweet Pea.
"Oh, shit. Right." Sweet Pea had almost forgotten about Jellybean.
"I saved you a car, thought that we might need it, everyone was taking 'em and-Betty?" Her face goes white when she sees the figure in Sweet Pea's arms. She looks ready to cry again but keeps it in. She's strong. She's a fighter. 'Course, or she wouldn't still be around.
"She's alive. Brad is going to fix her." Sweet Pea says.
"Try to."
"He will," Sweet Pea corrects over him, snarling, threatening. Brad just raises an eyebrow.
"Who's the Ewok?"
"Jellybean. An…" he pauses, "Acquaintance from my old life."
Octavia hardly takes any thought in believing it, "All sorts meet up in hell, eh?" She says, looking back at the factory. Isn't that the truth, Sweet Pea agrees mentally.
Brad and Sweet Pea load Betty up into the back of the car. Jellybean takes the shotgun, though she cannot help her flickering eyes looking back at Betty, trained, waiting for movement.
"Where we goin'?" Octavia asks, taking the driver's seat and touching the wheel, "Christ, the last thing I drove was a golf-cart."
"Oh, I can-," Jellybean starts.
"No, Kazi will figure it out," Sweet Pea snaps, "Head toward Wisconsin. When we hit the border, I'll nav."
He looks back to Betty, not wanting to take a second of his attention away. Not ever again.
"She's lost a lot of blood. Probably some broken ribs; I don't think she has a collapsed lung or internal bleeding. Small miracles," Brad says, starting his watch.
Sweet Pea unrolls the sleeve of his flannel, "I'm O negative. Please."
Brad's eyebrow quirks and he tilts his head. Sweet Pea licks his lips, "You know, growing up where I did, it was almost necessary to know your blood type. I've helped a fallen brother more than once. I was special," He says with a dry laugh.
"Universal donor," Brad agrees. The car jerks to motion. He braces himself and Sweet Pea goes instinctively to cover Betty. Brad cusses, shaking out his head, "It's far from ideal, but hell, I'm not sure she'll make it back without. She probably needed this before, but that little...asshat didn't help," Brad says. Sweet Pea thinks that he's trying, and failing, to censor himself around Jellybean, who is still watching, her eyes wide and glassy, like an owl.
"He's dead now. Made sure of that," Sweet Pea agrees, wishing he could mentally erase that entire first picture he will have forever burned in his mind, that moment where he walked through the door and saw her. And saw him.
He hopes, briefly, that Betty had already passed out. She should not have to bear that.
Brad slips the IV in with the ease of a doctor, and not for the first time does Sweet Pea consider how valuable this man's life is right now. Betty had absorbed a lot of the little things, tidbits from books, but to have an actual former doctor?
He might as well be made from gold.
For the next few hours, as Sweet Pea watches his blood curl into Betty, and he feels relief as she starts to regain a bit of color to his cheeks, he rubs her hair. He prays for her to wake up.
The car drives on. It's dark now; the hours slipped into dusk long ago. He is utterly exhausted, and it's been hours since he slept properly. He probably needs more medical attention too. He's just as bruised and battered as she is and some part of him yearns to just close his eyes and rest.
He is reminded of a poem; one Jughead referenced on more than one occasion and something that Betty enjoyed too. He always found it a bit somber, too much for his tastes, but the words replay in his mind now, like a rock, growing and rolling and just waiting in the most excruciating agony. He feels like perhaps he gets it better now. Betty once told him that you hear songs and poems when you're happy, but you understand them when you're sad.
He presses his forehead to Betty's, sighing and mumbling the words under his breath, so quiet it's hardly even audible, "The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep," He finds Betty's fingers. They feel smaller than ever in his hand than ever, and are brutally cold to the touch, "And miles to go before I sleep."