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Jughead was on a rollercoaster of emotions. He’d gone from upset to aroused back to upset to livid all within the span of twenty minutes. He was currently trying to pretend that everything was fine, that it was any other normal day in Riverdale. Betty was just out grabbing Pop’s for them while he buried himself in a good book on the Jones family couch.
Unfortunately for Jughead, he had never been good at pretending. It was impossible to focus his mind on the task at hand while it persistently wandered to her. His Betty . What she was doing at that moment. Whether or not she was safe. If she needed his help.
So, no, he couldn’t ignore reality. He hadn’t been back to his family’s double-wide in more than a decade, most members of the Jones family were either dead or missing, and he and Betty were not exactly the poster children for domesticity. And — possibly the worst part of the whole situation — the book he had in his hands was about fishing .
He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again and gave up, throwing the book to the ground in frustration. It was no use. He got up and strode over to the small kitchen table, snatching up his phone and looking at the time. Only twenty minutes had passed since she’d left, and it felt like hours.
Jughead ran his fingers through his hair, desperately pulling at the roots, wishing he still had his beanie that had been gone for years. He was going to go insane alone, doing nothing, just waiting for her to return with good news.
Good news. He had to laugh at himself, at the crazy turn his morals had taken in the last few weeks. He used to think of himself as a fine, upstanding citizen — he paid his taxes, didn’t shoplift, opted out of gang life. Yet here he was, waiting for his girlfriend to come back from killing his dead father’s angry, vindictive girlfriend.
Whew, there’s a sentenc e, he thought. How did my life get here?
Because of love. He shook his head, turning to throw himself back on the couch. Loneliness, a crazy dating site, and an amazing, intelligent, fascinating, beautiful woman. Perhaps a bit of lust...
Jesus Christ. This waiting shit is for the goddamn birds.
His phone suddenly broke the silence, disrupting his train of thought. His heart jumped painfully in his chest at the words on the screen.
Betty Cooper calling…
He tapped the green answer key and held his phone to his ear. “Hey, are you okay?”
Betty’s cool and clinical voice rose goosebumps on his arms. “Yeah, but I need your help.”
--
Betty was keeping things simple. This was unlike any of her other dispatches , so to speak. It had to be fast and clean and done without a trace as usual, but it had to be all of those things without the luxury of thorough preparation. Betty did not have months, weeks, or even hours to spend planning the demise of Penny Peabody, but she could not put it off any longer. The erratic lawyer’s suspicions of Betty’s involvement in the death of her nephew and boyfriend were exactly correct. Betty could not risk the woman breathing for even an hour longer.
Lucky for Betty, Jughead was a quick thinker and just like her, had a mind for murder. She still wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
If I remember correctly, the currents of Sweetwater River are especially treacherous this time of year.
He knew Riverdale and the surrounding area best and he knew Penny better than she did, having lived his childhood under the shadow of the Serpents and Ghoulies. He’d suggested Betty go by the Wyrm to find Penny, where she would inevitably be for Forsythe’s ‘celebration of life’. It was a good start, but there was still the issue of luring Penny to the river without alerting suspicion. As Betty sat in her car, just down the street from the bar, she contemplated her course of action.
She knew now, looking at the busy parking lot, that she did not want to go inside that bar. There were too many witnesses, too many associates of Penny’s who would later tell the police about her presence there. She had been far too involved in the happenings of this gang recently; she couldn’t afford to be placed anywhere near Penny. She needed to be a ghost.
There was also the matter of convincing Penny to come to the river without backup. Penny viewed her as an outsider, a threat, and she wasn’t dumb enough to blindly agree to such a request, at least not from her. Betty needed her at the river alone and on her own volition. She needed her to be confident and cocky, without her guard up.
Lastly, Betty did not want to involve Jughead more than she already had. He had been through enough and had even forgiven her for her indiscretions. He hadn’t handed her over to the police, he hadn’t condemned her as evil, and he hadn’t broken up with her. He’d even agreed with her about the necessity of Penny’s death.
But the longer Betty watched various leather-clad men and women enter and exit the bar, the longer she went without knowing how to talk to Penny, the more conflicted she became.
Jughead didn’t need to be involved in her nefarious pursuit of justice. He didn’t need more blood and death on his hands. He didn’t even need her in his life. But she sure as hell needed him.
Before she could convince herself otherwise, she picked up her phone and tapped her most frequent contact. He answered before the second ring.
“Hey, are you okay?” His voice was thin, strung out.
There was no dancing around the point. “Yeah, but I need your help.”
She heard a sharp intake of breath before he spoke. “Whatever it is that you need, I’m in.”
She had to laugh. Hours before, he’d been staring at her warily across the console of her car. The distance between them had seemed impossible to cross.
“Betty?”
She stifled her chuckle. “I need you to do one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“Call Penny. Tell her you think she’s right about me. Tell her you’re afraid of me. Tell her you want revenge and you want her help.”
“What, why ? What if she goes to the police?”
“She won’t, not if you ask her to meet you at Sweetwater River to talk. But you have to sell it, Juggie. She needs to believe you.”
For a moment, there was silence on the line. And then, “Okay.”
Betty let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Jug. I’m sorry you have to do this.”
He laughed once, short and humorless. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
She shrugged in her seat even though he couldn’t see her. “I got us into this mess.”
He didn’t say anything. Betty shifted uncomfortably in the silence, pressing her nails into her hands. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I love you, Jug. You’ve got this. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, once this is all over, and we can go back to the city and start over.” She took another deep breath. “I swear.”
“Okay,” he finally said. “I love you too.”
--
Jughead ended the call with Betty and for a minute, tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to say to Penny to coax her to the riverbank. He drummed his fingers against the kitchen table as he thought about how the hell he was going to pull this off.
“You must really love her, Jones,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the detective’s business card from his wallet, the one that he wrote Penny’s information on, and dialled her phone number.
It rang three and a half times before anyone answered. As the seconds passed, his composure began to slip.
“Yello’?”
“Penny?” Jughead whispered, trying to distort his voice into something resembling fear or concern.
“Who wants to know?”
“It’s Jughead. Jones. Can we talk?”
“What could you possibly have to say to me, kid? You lost your chance for talking when you practically threw me out of what should be my trailer!”
Jughead got up from the table to pace around the small living room. “Penny, listen. I think you’re right. I think she has something to do with what happened to my dad. I just...” he paused for effect, “I'm afraid of her, alright? But I can’t tell her that. She’d probably snap and kill me, too.” His voice trembled slightly and he thought it worked in his favor.
“Why should I believe you? You protected her just fine earlier.” Shit .
He cringed, the next words out of his mouth bitter lies. “I‘m my father’s son, Penny. Do you really think I’d ever admit to being afraid of a woman if it wasn’t true?” Ugh.
Penny cackled over the line. “Okay, so you’re afraid of her. What does that have to do with me?” He could hear the interest in her voice building. He had her — hook, line and sinker. All he had to do was reel her in.
“I have an idea for revenge, but I need your help. Meet me at Sweetwater River in twenty minutes and I’ll explain.”
“Fine. See you in fifteen, Jonesy.”
The line went dead and he exhaled abruptly. He couldn’t believe it had actually worked. He was sure he was going to lose it. He hated playing the macho-man card, but he knew she’d fall for it. His father was a man’s man, whatever that meant, so he was hoping that it would work. Luckily for him, it did.
There was a reason he was a writer and not a performer, but he hoped he’d done enough for their plan to work.
--
Betty watched as Penny’s familiar form exited the Wyrm. The dirty blonde, scraggly in her cut-off denim skirt and worn leather, practically skipped across the parking lot to her motorbike. Even from afar, Betty could tell she was riding a certain high. Jughead had sold the story and now she was confidently on her way to the river without a single precaution in place.
Perfect.
Betty waited until Penny had disappeared from view down the street, headed in the direction of the river, before she started her car to follow.
She felt an eerie sense of deja-vu wash over her as she tailed yet another Ghoulie down a back road. She shook her head to dispel the feeling. This time wasn’t going to be anything like the last time. She had acted rashly with Malachi. She wasn’t acting rashly here; she was acting with total self-preservation.
She attempted to zero her mind on the matter at hand. No more worries, no more mistakes. All it did was cloud her judgement. She needed to be crystal clear in order to get a jump on Penny.
The woman would be surprised to see her, no doubt. She would try to fight back, and Betty guessed she would be pretty scrappy. But it wouldn’t matter how hard Penny fought; she’d still be no match for Betty’s sheer willpower and a heavy rock.
Down the road, Penny pulled sharply into a narrow drive that Jughead had informed her led to a trail. Betty checked her rearview mirror before slowing her car to a crawl, searching for a place on the side of the road to stash her car. Right before the drive Penny had disappeared into, two large bushes obscured a small patch of gravel. Betty pulled off and parked, immediately cutting the engine.
She walked briskly to the trail leading to the river, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of the blonde. It wasn’t long before she could hear the roar of the river, and the sound rose goosebumps on her skin. It sounded just as Jughead described. Rough, unforgiving, deadly.
At the end of the trail, where it split into two, Betty noticed two bikes parked next to each other, and her stomach dropped to her toes. One she recognized as Penny’s, but the other she’d never seen before, and she suddenly felt like she was walking right into a trap.
She could hear the soft rumble of voices up ahead and her resolve faltered. She’d never be able to handle two people and she didn’t want any collateral damage.
Through the dense trees, she thought she could make out the light colour of Penny’s hair as well as a larger figure next to her — a man. She moved a few paces closer and ducked behind a tree, trying to gather her thoughts and a lot of courage. She dug her fingers into her legs, willing herself to keep it together.
Finish this. Finish her.
Should I call Jug?
Fuck. No. Betty, pull it together.
A shout rang out over the rush of the current. “This never would’ve happened if you hadn't abandoned your legacy!”
Relief and panic flooded through Betty as she shot to her feet. She rounded the tree and, forgetting about stealth, jogged down the path toward the riverbank.
Jughead’s eyes widened as she came into view. Penny’s face twisted into an ugly grimace.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Betty spat, not giving either a chance to speak. She let her gaze linger on Jughead for a purposeful moment, willing him to catch on to the role she was about to play.
He stared at her, eyes wild. “I, uh, wh—”
“We know what you did, blondie,” Penny sneered, interrupting, “And Jonesy here isn’t falling for your innocent schtick any more. Jig’s up.”
Betty could feel the familiar heat rising in her chest, her pulse quickening. She smiled slowly and stepped closer to the woman. Forget the role. This woman was as good as dead. “If you know what I did, you know what I’m capable of.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Penny hissed, though she took a step back toward the water’s edge.
Betty laughed. “Then you must be pretty stupid. I put a bullet through your nephew’s skull and I tied your boyfriend to a chair before I mutilated him. You don’t think I can take care of you, too?” Betty raised her brows and took another step forward, forcing her back again.
Betty watched as Penny’s eyes widened and darted to Jughead, like a silent call for help. The very idea that Penny thought Jughead may step in to help made Betty’s blood boil. “Don’t fucking look at him.”
Penny gritted her teeth and looked back at her. “You’re a crazy bitch. Do you think you’re going to get away with this?”
Betty shrugged and in her periphery, saw Jughead stoop to the ground. “I have before. But so did Malachi and FP, didn’t they? And you helped them. You helped both of them manipulate, kidnap, beat, rape so many women and children. Do you not even feel a bit of remorse?”
An unbridled rage flickered in Penny’s dark eyes. “Malachi and FP were good men, but they had vices just like the rest of us. They were going to be better, but you took that opportunity away from them.”
Betty bit back a laugh, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “I can see that you really, truly believe that. So I am happy to do this, Penny. The world will be better off without you.”
Betty felt Jughead beside her and reached out a hand toward him. She didn’t take her eyes off Penny as she felt the rough rock weigh heavily in her palm.
Penny took another step back, this time looking at the violent waters behind her. Betty took the opportunity to spring forward.
Penny screamed once; the delicate skin at her temple breaking open as the rock made contact. Bright red streamed immediately and relentlessly down the side of her face as the light disappeared from her eyes.
--
Jughead watched as the rock clattered to the ground in a puff of smoke. He watched his girlfriend — his lovely, sweet girlfriend still dressed in her funeral attire — shove his late father’s lover off the riverbank. He watched the dead woman succumb to the current. The familiar waters of Sweetwater River, where he used to swim and play as a kid, swallowed her whole like she never existed in the first place.
Betty tossed the rock nonchalantly into the river before turning to face him. Her expression held no hint of what had just happened; the fury had disappeared as surely as Penny’s body. Instead, her eyes were gentle and probing.
She stepped toward him, hand outstretched. “Jug…”
“Just… just like that?” he asked, his voice shaking. There was no hope in hiding the fact that he was disturbed, yet something inside of him was calm. He’d just watched someone get murdered. By his girlfriend. He should want to back away from her, he should be terrified of her, but he wasn’t.
Betty nodded, slipping her small hand into his. A tiny thought in the back of his brain reminded him that the hand he held had just ended someone’s life, but he tuned it out. It didn’t matter. Did it? She’d done it for them.
He stared down at their intertwined hands, willing himself to focus on their joined fingers. They were together, one. It was going to be okay now.
He felt her finger brush against his jaw and then she was lifting his chin to meet her gaze.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded despite the lump forming in his throat and his heart thudding in his chest.
She didn’t look entirely convinced. “You shouldn’t have been here,” she said, squeezing his hand.
He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand back, allowing the pressure to ground him. He opened his eyes and leaned forward, planting his lips on her forehead.
“I had to be,” he whispered against her skin.
He felt her sigh and then her arms moved to wrap tightly around his waist. She lifted her face toward his and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Jug. Really. I’m not sure I can explain to you just how sorry I am.”
Jughead rested his forehead against hers. “I know. It’s okay.”
She nodded, eyelids fluttering, tears spilling down her cheeks.
He tightened his arms around her as she ducked her head, burying it in his chest. He felt her shoulders move slowly as if she was carefully controlling her pain for his sake. She didn’t have to. Her emotion was evidence that she hadn’t acted lightly. She was human and she cared.
For a while they stood on the bank, Jughead listening to the river and Betty listening to the rapid beat of his heart.
--
She was wandering. It had been a long and stressful day, beginning with the open road to the unfavourable destination she’d rather not have punched into her phone’s mapping system.
As she’d gotten closer, the apprehension she felt had only grown. Most of the time, she listened to her intuition — boasting almost a prophetic sense of good and bad, right and wrong, do or don’t — and so she hardly ever resolved herself to do things she didn’t feel like doing. She listened to her gut because it had never led her astray.
That day, her gut had screamed at her. Her phone had chimed with her arrival and everything else in her said leave. So she’d thrown her car in reverse, tossed away her plan, her whole purpose for being in town in the first place, and went to the only place she ever remembered finding solace.
Sweetwater River.
Driving away from the building that marked a sort-of end to her fraught history, her whole body relaxed.
Stepping out of her car into the clean forest air, she could hear a dull roar in the distance. She began her short trek, passing over a bridge that she remembered being in better shape and heading down the trail that looked most familiar. It would, if memory serves, lead her to the riverbank where the water gently met the land. Years ago, they would often drag their canoe to this part of the river because it was the easiest place to push off into the water.
Today though, she had come alone to wade into the streams. She had no canoe, no friends, no family, and no plan. All she wanted was to forget for a moment about the circumstances that had brought her back to this town, and to maybe rediscover the peace the river had once brought her.
However, the closer she got to the river, the less likely fulfilling that hope seemed. That once dull and distant roar was growing louder every step she took and as she traipsed through the last of the brush, she witnessed just how angry the currents of Sweetwater had become.
Of course. It was that time of year. She’d forgotten.
Her heart and stomach sank simultaneously. It was far too dangerous for her to go into the water today. She would be swept away immediately, her tiny frame no match for the restless flow. Frustrated, she gathered the dark skirts of her dress and settled cross-legged on the stony ground. She tried to ignore the sharp rocks digging into her bare skin and stared intently at the blue-grey waters. The white rapids sparkled in the bright sun. Despite not being what she wanted that day, it was still a beautiful sight.
And at least the roar of the river would drown out the roar of her thoughts. That was something.
She trailed her fingers along the rocks of various shapes, sizes and colors surrounding her. She picked a rough, greyish-pink one and a smooth, black one and rose to her feet. She weighed them both in her palms before tossing them toward the river. Bending over, her bright, frizzy locks falling into her eyes, she chose two more and threw those in the same direction.
The anxiety was sneaking up on her again. She didn’t want to be here . She didn’t want to drive the vaguely familiar roads or pass the landmarks she once frequented. She didn’t want to see people she knew and she didn’t want to feel the emotions they stirred in her. She didn’t want to remember this place or the things that had happened here.
Now, sitting at this river that no longer brought her peace, she wished she’d never bothered coming in the first place. Whatever this trip was — an attempt to reconcile her past and present, to tie up loose ends, to get closure — it was a wasted effort. It couldn’t be done. Riverdale could not be expunged from her past and its effect on her could not be softened. Not now.
It was time to go again, her gut said. She heaved one last rock toward the river before taking her last glance.
Bye.
Almost as if in response, a gut-wrenching shriek rang out over the roar of the river, raising every hair on her body. Her eyes combed the riverbank for the source of the sound.
She saw them almost immediately. There were three people — one man and two women who were standing perilously on the edge of a steep drop-off to the water.
She opened her mouth to call out to them, but the words caught in her throat. She watched as the smaller woman reached out and pushed the other off the side of the bank as the man stood idly by.
Her stomach dropped like the body to the water. She clapped her hands over her mouth and ran.
I shouldn’t have come here.
Her gut protested. It had finally failed her.
.
.
.