Jughead stared at the steel table in front of him, his blue eyes wide in fear and disbelief, his posture slumped over as though he had already lost a fight when the battle hadn't even begun. Across from him in the sterile room of the Riverdale Police Station was Betty Cooper, his first visitor since Sheriff Keller had escorted him out of the Blue and Gold office at Riverdale High for questioning.

Jughead never imagined he would end up in this situation. When he started writing his novel about Jason Blossom's murder, he had felt called to tell the story, to really explore the dynamic between the good and evil of Riverdale, a difficult truth that came to light with Jason's death. Investigating with Betty had given him more to focus on, someone just as invested as him to bounce theories off of; who really wanted to get to the truth and do it for the right reasons.

They had begun working together to cover the mystery for the Blue and Gold, which quickly turned from interviewing witnesses to undercover work at Thornhill to reconstructing Sheriff Keller's murder board and suspecting anyone and everyone. She had done everything with him, as partners fighting crime. They found out about Ms. Grundy's car at Sweetwater river, together. They went to see Polly, together. They found Jason's getaway car in the woods, together.

Yet, He sat on the suspect side of this table and she sat on the visitor side. The only thing that could make this situation worse was if she suspected him; after all, they had agreed that everyone was suspicious, and she won't be Riverdale's own Nancy Drew if she just believed him outright. Despite all the time they' recently spent together, they were not really speaking at all on July 4th.

Silently chewing his bottom lip, his beanie for once not providing the security blanket effect it usually did, Jughead tried to gather his thoughts. "I didn't do it, Betty. You have to believe me," Jughead practically whispered with a shoulder shrug. His eyes coming up to meet her Bambi like green ones, pleading almost harshly to be on his side and believe his words.

"Of course, I was with you, and I know who you are," Polly replied, leaning closer, her eyes fixed on Jughead's to maintain their eye contact. Her soft voice providing a tone of sincerity as she quickly reached across the table to grasp his hands. Jughead didn't flinch or dare move his hands crossed in front of his chest, but when her fingers tightly grasped his hands, the hard lump in his throat suddenly felt much easier to swallow.

"Well, those Paradise Lost kids went to death row because they wore black and they listened to Metallica," Jughead answered in a rush, his scared eyes darted back and forth across the table, trying and failing to focus, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to keep a painful truth off his facial features. He looked back at Betty and said, "I don't want to become a scapegoat."

"I'm not going to let that happen," Betty stated in a harsh tone, interrupting his plea. Keeping her big eyes on him, she took his hands more firmly in hers, pulling them across the table a bit, towards her. Jughead let her, his whole body releasing the tension of the situation as he realized Betty was indeed on his side, that she had always been; it was just such a foreign feeling to him not having to do through this alone.

Jughead let out a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding until Betty's beautiful voice confirmed that she believed him. That she believed in him, wholeheartedly. "All the evidence against you is circumstantial," she continued, lightly shaking her head as though the idea of using it against him was pointless. "We're going to get you out of here." She leaned in towards him more, her eyes locked on his, her hands re-gripping his hands tighter, as if to prove the point that she was going to stop at nothing to get him out of there, her fingers a physical reminder that she would be with him no matter what. Her touch was anchoring him. She was his anchor.

Jughead closed his eyes, sighing deeply and sniffling, a sigh rippling through his lanky figure, trying to regain control of his fear with Betty's help. He knew he would be okay because she was there. Because she was with him and reminding him that she would fight for him always. He wanted to admire her so much for that in this moment, her having no idea how the depth of her loyalty and devotion to helping him was keeping his soul alive. He wanted to retreat into himself, into the darkness, but she was and has always been his guide towards the light. Towards her. And if something were to happen to him, the last thing he wanted was to bring her into that darkness along with him.

He tried to focus on the present moment. When Sheriff Keller had begun questioning him, he actually brought up Jughead's juvenile record and FP's failings as a father to justify Jughead as a suspect in Jason's murder, a very tenuous connection for the sheriff to make. And then there was the Riverdale bias: both he and Betty found Jason's getaway car, but little blonde Betty Cooper, the darling of the perfect Cooper family, could never have been involved in murder, so she was immediately cleared of suspicion. But Jughead? With his stint in juvenile detention for "attempting to burn down Riverdale Elementary School" while playing with matches, coupled with his broken family from the wrong side of the tracks, and bullying because of his nickname made him a prime scapegoat. He couldn't have written a better setup, his whole life condensed to a few sentences for judgment and twisted around to look like patterned criminal behavior; well, he that was something out of a Wes Craven movie where the character didn't have a happy ending. All he wanted in the world right now was to get out of this room.

He quickly opened his eyes to see Betty's still trained on his, peering into his mind and trying desperately to soothe his thoughts. It was as if she was trying to take all his pain and suffering from him and fix it. She could sense his struggle to stay positive and was trying to share that burden so he wouldn't be suffering alone. Oh, how he adored her for that. Betty was in this corner. His anchor.

"Is my dad here yet?" Jughead inquired, forcing himself to think about something over that his lovely girlfriend and her apparent soul healing power of him. He watched as Betty's lips parted slightly, her eyes hesitantly blinking, and he steeled himself for the bad news he had come to expect with his father's name was mentioned.

"Archie's here, with his dad. They're talking to the sheriff," Betty supplied softly. "No one knows where your dad is." Betty nearly whispered, her eyes downcast, her whole demeanor radiating that she wished she had better news and that she wished she didn't have to tell him. Jughead glanced down at the table again, a hint of disbelief and sadness threatening to overtake him as he realized where his father most likely was. His face turned almost stoic, with a practiced, silent anger that came from years of disappointment at not being a priority for an alcoholic parent. He could almost, almost feel himself slipping into his self-loathing for his situation again, so he focused on the one thing that always brought him happiness: Betty.

Her hands were still clasped in his. They weren't looking at each other, but just her firm touch was enough for him to know she was there. For anything he needed. They didn't need words or eye contact, they were just two teenagers experiencing this awful moment together, as they had done many times before, side by side. Betty was anchoring him in this moment, their connecting proving that just being near one another was enough to save them from the worst versions of themselves.

She was his anchor, and in that moment, that was more than enough.