Coming Home By Shrugheadjonesthethird (Series 1)

Chapter 8

“I don't know what happened, he said he wasn't going anywhere, then just ran back into the bar.” Betty sobbed to Archie and Veronica the following afternoon. “He just left me there, in the parking lot.” Betty was having trouble catching her shallow breaths. Veronica placed a glass of wine in her hand, instinctually.

“Betty, why did you even go there?” Archie questioned. “You’ve never been to the Southside that late at night before. What if something happened?” There was a look of concern on his face. Veronica grabbed Archie hand to calm him.

“Something did happen, Arch. Jughead left. He ran away from me. Why would he--” Betty’s sobbing was unstoppable, leaving her unable to finish her thought. Archie had never seen Betty this distraught. It tugged at his heartstrings. Even if he and Betty were no longer together, her didn’t want her to feel this kind of pain.

“This is not your fault, B,” Veronica reassured. “This is completely on him. You did nothing wrong, do you hear me?” Betty cocked her head to the side, not believing the words of her best friend.

“This is why I wanted to just drop it.” Her tears continued; there seemed to be no end in sight. Betty stayed with them, Veronica insisted. She was in no condition to return home to Alice and Hal Cooper who, no doubt, would not understand. They tried their best to keep her in good spirits, but all that resulted was a drunken Betty, passed out on their couch.. She laid there, sprawled on the leather. Archie took a blanket out of the chest and covered her with it, tucking her in. She readjusted at the added weight to her sleeping body, but did not wake.

“Is there something we can do? This is kind of our fault,” Veronica asked Archie. “I can’t stand seeing her like this.” Neither Archie, nor Veronica had seen Betty in such a bewildered, drunken state. Betty Cooper was not one to drink her feelings, in fact, she was the most rational person they knew. To see her in this state broke their hearts.

“Neither can I.” Archie admitted. “I never wanted her to get hurt like this.” He pulled out his cell phone and attempted to call Jughead. “Straight to voicemail, again. Typical Jughead, run away when things have the potential to go well,” he scoffed. He threw his phone onto the granite countertop haphazardly. “I thought this time it would be different. I thought he’d learn by now.” He kissed Veronica, silently saying goodbye. Archie set out to find Jughead, he didn’t know where to look, but he was determined--for Betty’s sake.

Archie got into his truck and drove to Sunnyside Trailer Park to see FP. Maybe FP would know where to find him. It’s worth a shot, right? He walked into the Whyte Wyrm. It was just as he remembered from years earlier: smoke-filled, the smell of stale beer with various Serpents in every direction. He walked directly to the bar.

“I’m here to see FP,” he said to Sweet Pea, reracking the bourbon bottle from the bar top. “He knows I’m coming,” Archie added as he saw Sweet Pea’s eyebrow raise in confusion. Sweet Pea finished drying the glass in his hand and walked away from Archie. Minutes later, FP emerges from the top of the stairs. He smirked and made his way through the crowd to meet Archie.

“Mr. Jones, can we talk? It’s about Jughead.” Archie had a genuine concern in his voice. FP obliged. They walked outside behind the bar, for privacy. “He’s not answering me, have you heard from him?” There was an urgency in Archie’s voice.

“No. Well, yes. He called me this morning, then hung up. I tried him back, but it went straight to voicemail. I’ve tried texting him, but nothing. I’m about to find a carrier pigeon.” FP laughed. “This is what he does Archie, you know that.”

“This time it’s different. We’re worried. He ran from Betty. She’s barely functioned the last day or so since. Mr. Jones, she’s not okay. He needs to talk to her, explain himself-- something .”  FP’s face dropped, he had known all about it. Jughead had been to his trailer to tell him about the mishap.

“Archie, I know.” FP hung his head. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “You know him about as well as anyone could, Archie. Certainly better than I do, that’s for damn sure. Where would he go?” Archie racked his brain about the places that Jughead would run to when they were kids.

Drive-in? No, that’s gone. Train station? No. His bike isn’t here, so he’s not on the Southside. Where the hell would he go? FP’s question lit a fire under him. “I have an idea, but it’s a long shot.” Archie hugged FP. “I’ll let you know what I find. Thanks, Mr. Jones”

“Be careful, kid. Bring my boy home in one piece.” FP chuckled to himself. Archie ran back to his truck. It started with a rumble. He had remembered an experience they shared back in high school. When FP was in jail for the murder of Jason Blossom, Jughead would have done anything for his father, anything to prove him innocent. He had taken an oddjob for the gangs attorney on retainer, Penny Peabody. They had made the trek up to Greendale, through the mountain, on the other side of Sweetwater River. What was supposed to be a one time delivery turned into a mess that FP had to handle once he was released from Sheriff Keller’s custody.

It was like Pop’s. If he felt like he needed an escape, he would still need to eat. If I know Jughead, it's that he always needs to eat. Archie drove like mad to Greendale. He couldn’t recall the name of the spot, but he had a vague recollection of where he could find it. This was the only hope Archie had. He drove hastily and finally reached the lone building on the narrow roadway on the outskirts of Greendale, nearing Centerville. He had almost missed it, but there, tucked behind the building, he saw a motorcycle. Motorcycles were a rarity anywhere outside of the Southside of Riverdale. He made a wide turn into the parking lot, send a plume of smoke and dust into the air. He threw the truck in park, urgently and ran into the diner, nearly tripping up the stairs. He looked around hurriedly, the place was empty, well, almost empty. In the far corner of the diner, sat Jughead Jones, typing fervently. His eyes were puffy, a small laceration under his left eye. His leather jacket was scraped and there was a hole in knee of his jeans, exposing abrasions and dried blood. He sipped from his coffee cup, hand shaking. Archie let out a sigh of relief. Good God, he’s okay. A server drifted to the booth where Jughead had set up shop and refilled his coffee. He continued to type, nodding his head as a thank you to her, not looking up from his screen that lit up the corner of the restaurant. Archie waited. He waited to see if Jughead would look up to see him. He didn’t want him to run again. Trapping a scared animal in a corner only makes things worse.