Not having any adults actively monitoring his actions was turning out to be a blessing for Jughead. When he heard about the car being destroyed, he sent Betty a text, but there was no way she was going to get around her parents, especially with them being so hyper-vigilant after the two of them had visited Polly.

So Jughead ventured out to the car on his own. It's dark out, being around two in the morning and the flames are long gone, the charred car and bushes still wet from the fire department keeping it from turning into a forest fire. Glancing around for a third time to ensure a deputy hasn't been left behind to guard, he ducks under the yellow tape tied between trees. The mud around the car squelches under his boots and sticks to the hem of his jeans while he shines his flashlight in the smoke stained windows. The rear driver side window had been smashed out so the firefighters could extinguish the flames.

The faux leather suitcases are melted into unrecognizable lumps, giant holes burned through and contents destroyed, the space where Jason's jacket had been is now empty, the jacket reduced to a meager pile of ash. The brick of drugs Jughead specifically remembers sliding back into place is nowhere to be seen. No evidence it had been there when the fire started, not even a scent. The smell of burnt plastic is strong, but he's certain a brick of that size would have left that telltale skunk-like smell behind.

Turning away from the car, he shines his flashlight across the ground, scanning back and forth, searching for any footprints asides from those left by the emergency crews. Twenty feet in he finally gets passed the wet line from the fire prevention and into the undisturbed forest floor, searching for footprints or other hints. He doesn't think of himself as a man tracker at all, but damn if he isn't going to at least try to find any sort of clue to who was trying to destroy the evidence.

He's about sixty feet into the forest when he hears a twig snap right behind him. He barely makes a half turn before something heavy crashes down onto his head. His vision goes black before he even hits the ground.

His brain flicks through dreams as though they were tv channels. First, he's watching Jellybean running across the lot at the drive-in, her black hair bouncing behind her as she giggles, racing for the swings in the playground next to the concession booth. The picture changes and he's sitting on the bleachers at school with Archie, jokingly arguing about something. His brain doesn't focus on it long enough to find out what they were discussing before it changes and suddenly it's dark and it feels like someone's giving him a pat down, smacking at the pockets in his jacket and jeans before pulling something out of his left-hand jacket pocket. He can vaguely hear two voices, barely more than mutterings to his ears.

"How did you know he was going to come back?"

"He's nosey and he seems like the type to do so. Thank god he came alone."

"Why did you even need him?"

"He took pictures, I need his phone. Doesn't look like he texted them to anyone yet, so these should be it."

"Good. Are you going to kill him now?"

"Nah, he's just a kid with no evidence."

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

Jug's head still feels like mush and he isn't totally sure if everything he's hearing is real, but dream or not, his instincts kick in and tell him to grab for anything nearby. He feels his phone dropped onto his chest just as his fingers make contact with someone's ankle. His habit of tearing his fingernails instead of using clippers has made them sharp and jagged and he feels them tear into the bare skin he has found contact with.

He hears muffled cursing before a solid kick impacts his ribs, his body reflexively curling up to protect his torso. Another blow to his head forces him over the edge and back into darkness.

The next time he's aware of being in the forest he's still not sure if he's awake. It takes effort, but he finally manages to blink his eyes open, squinting against the sunlight shining through the trees. He tries to lift his head from where his cheek is pressed into the leaf littered ground, dew or blood making the leaves stick to his face, he's not sure which, but it's wet.

He doesn't manage more than a couple inches before his head feels like it's going to roll away on its own. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to bring the world back into focus, which turns out to be a bad decision because suddenly his chest feels like it's on fire. He wraps his arms around his torso, trying to protect himself from a pain that is entirely internal and there is nothing he can do about it.

He clenches his eyes shut as tears mingle with the dew and blood around his head. Oh god, I need help.

When his vision fades to black again he doesn't fight it.

By the end of the fourth period and no sign of Juggy, Archie is basically vibrating in his seat. He's constantly glancing between the clock, the desk Jug should be sitting in, and the pencil he's been torquing for the past forty-five minutes, barely restraining himself from snapping it in half. He hasn't heard a word the teacher has spoken the entire class nor has he noticed the dirty looks the girl next to him has been throwing at him and his nervously bouncing leg.

Finally, the bell rings and he's halfway out the door before the ringing has even faded. Glancing up and down the hallway, he finally spots Betty and Veronica walking towards Betty's locker.

"Hey, Bets! Ronny!" he calls out to them as he dodges his way through the crowd.

Veronica leans against the locker next to Bettys as Betty opens hers, jamming her textbook onto the shelf and then rifling through her backpack to find her homework. As Archie reaches them she glances up to greet him, only to pause when she notices the deep crease between his brow. "Uh, hi. Are you feeling ok, Arch?"

The crease deepens even more. "What? No, I'm fine, it's Jughead I'm worried about." He's surveying the crowd, trying to pick out the telltale beanie. "He's not answering my texts or calls. Have either of you seen him yet?"

Betty immediately catches on to the concern, looking around as well. "No, I haven't, I don't have a class with him til after lunch."

Veronica lets out a laugh, "is it really that weird for him to miss school?"

"It is actually, he hasn't missed a day of school in the past three years." Bettys digging in her backpack again, this time looking for her phone.

"Maybe he's working on his writing or something, wanted to write down everything that you guys found last night," Veronica says, dismissively.

Betty freezes, phone clutched in her hand. Archie senses her tension and makes eye contact finally. "Betty?"

"He texted me last night. Or this morning rather. He wanted to go back out to the car, but dad was still awake and I couldn't get out of the house." She stares at the still darkened phone in her hand. "What if he went out there on his own?"

Archie firms his jaw, the look of concern seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face. "You know where it is right? Let's go."

He doesn't even wait for an answer before he's charging back down the hallway towards the parking lot.

It takes nearly twenty minutes for them to reach the car, jammed shoulder to shoulder on the bench seat of the truck. Neither Betty nor Archie were feeling particularly chatty, so after a couple awkward attempts to get them to talk, Veronica lapses into silence, fidgeting with the stereo controls in front of her instead. Finally, they pull up next to the decrepit sign and pile out of the truck.

The trio ducks under the yellow tape, picking their way around the car. Betty can feel the anger festering inside of her as she looks into the car, seeing the charred and melted pile of evidence that could've helped prove her sister's sanity. Then again, the drugs could've condemned her all over again. Veronica rubs her hand across Bettys back, trying to offer some form of reassurance.

"Guys, over here!" Archie calls out. "These are his boot tracks." he points to the mud, where a pair of well-worn treads overlap the more defined treads of large firefighter boots. Archie stands where the trail eventually left the mud and scans the trees and ground around them, looking for a clue of which direction Jughead had gone.

"Let me try calling him," Betty suggests, already selecting his name and raising the phone to her ear. They each held their breath without even thinking about it, trying to focus on listening.

There was a faint noise coming from… there. Archie immediately recognizes the pile of blue and black denim amongst the trees and bolts for it. "Juggy!"

He slips on the loose leaves, sliding the last couple feet on his knees. Jughead is curled nearly into the fetal position on his side, chin tucked into his chest, arms wrapped around his torso. His beanie isn't on his head, Archie spots it lying nearby. Without it, Archie can see how damp his black hair is. He's hesitant to touch his friend, scared he's going to discover a lack of pulse.

He finally reaches for Juggys arm, carefully pulling it away from his chest to find his pulse. He lets out the breath he had been holding without realizing when he felt the thumping against his fingers. It feels a little slow, but he isn't exactly an expert, so he's not sure.

Betty flops to her knees on the other side of Juggy, reaching for his head. She gently pushes his hair back and away from his face, noticing a smear of red along his hairline. She pulls her hand back and finds her fingers streaked with blood. She looks at Archie, her eyes blurring with tears and finds him staring at her hands and back down at Juggy, finally looking at her face, aghast.

They vaguely hear Veronica say she's calling 911, but their attention is taken back to Jughead, his brow furrowing and eyes clenching. His awakening body automatically tries to take a deep breath, only causing the pain to shoot across his chest again. He wrenches his wrist out of Archies hand, futilely trying to stop the pain but only making it worse with the pressure he himself is supplying. A high keening can be heard from his throat.

"Juggy! Hey, Jug, it's us, we're here," Archie starts talking quickly, saying any reassuring thing that pops into his head, trying to give Jughead something else to focus on. It seems to work, Juggys eyes finally blink open, squinting against the light and then finding Bettys face in front of him. He can feel Archies hand on his back and tries to lift his cheek from the ground again, trying to turn his head back towards Archie. He succeeds in getting his head to a position where he's looking up at the sky, where he can see Betty to his left and Archie to his right. He closes his eyes again as he vision spins.

"Hey, stay with us Jughead, don't fall asleep again," Betty's voice is as soft as the hand she gently places against his cheek, which he leans into, trying to relax as much of his body as he can. He hurts all over.

"Thank.. Thank you for finding me," he manages to groan out. He's not sure why he says it, but at this point he feels like he's going to die anyways, so he might as well thank them for being there with him when he went. Which.. Feels.. Like… now… he thinks as the darkness crowds his vision again. He can hear both of them speaking in distressed voices, calling his name, but he has no control anymore and then no awareness either.

They both have a hand on him when they feel his whole body go limp, a sigh of breath escaping from his slightly open mouth. And suddenly his body is tense again and his whole body is shaking under their hands.

"Veronica!" Archie hollers over his shoulder, but she's already relaying this turn of events into the phone, speaking rapidly.

Betty grasps both sides of Jugheads face in her hands, loosely to not restrict his movements but gently directing his head back towards her so his neck isn't so twisted. Archie helps her align Jughead into as close to the recovery position as they can manage while he's still seizing. He can feel himself starting to panic, glancing between Betty and his best friend. "What do we do? Betty, what do we need to do?"

Betty only shakes her head, batting Archies hands away from Juggy's shaking arm that he's holding onto a little too tightly. "There's nothing we can do, just don't touch him."

It's nearly a minute later when Jughead goes limp again. Archie is sitting back, his elbows on his knees, squeezing his own head between his forearms, hands clasped behind his head. Veronica is done on the phone and is standing behind Betty, unconsciously rubbing her back as she watches the small parking area by the sign, waiting to flag down the ambulance.

As soon as Jughead goes limp, Betty is back to cradling his cheek in her hand, plucking leaves out of his hair and vainly trying to wipe his face clean.

When the ambulance arrives, it's with a flurry of overwhelming activity. Sheriff Keller is there, asking questions they don't know the answers to even if they weren't distracted by the activity of Jughead being strapped to a backboard and carried away. Betty moves to pick up his beanie from the ground but is hustled out of the way by the Sheriff, who picks it and Jugheads phone up with an evidence bag, sealing them tightly and making it quite clear she wouldn't be getting either of them back today.

The drive back into town is even quieter than the drive out.

Before he even opens his eyes, Jughead recognizes that he's been rescued from the hell of that forest. The pillow cradling his head feels like the softest thing he's laid on in a long time, the mattress firm but comfortable. The blanket is scratchy against his arms, but it does its job keeping the rest of him warm. His ears are buzzing, his head feels like it's full of cotton, and his chest feels like a giant bruise, but he's alive, which is more than he expected.

He cautiously opens his eyes in case he gets blinded by sunlight, but finds himself in a hospital room with a weird green glow to it. The blinds of the private room are shut tight, the main light is shut off and a rectangle on the wall with a dial on it is emitting a green glow, casting the room in enough light to see, but not harsh enough to hurt his eyes.

He realizes he's not wearing any of his own clothes anymore, he's been dressed in a gown that ties near the side. Attempting to raise his head still doesn't feel very good, so he scans the room from his slightly inclined position to see if he can spot any of his belongings.

He doesn't see any of his stuff, but he does find Betty curled up in a chair to his right, her feet tucked under her, knees pulled to her chest, her head propped up on her hand. She seems to be asleep. He squints at the clock on the wall, it reads just after seven. Whether that was AM or PM, he's not sure.

He opens his mouth to say something, but his throat is dry and the sound that comes out is closer to a croak than any word. An attempt at clearing his throat instead causes a coughing fit, which wakes Betty up but also sends shooting pain through his head and chest. The pain isn't as severe as he had experienced back in the forest thanks to the IV in the back of his hand, but it still aches.

"Oh, Juggy!" Betty immediately bolts upright, not even noticing her phone falling to the floor. She scrambles for a glass of water from the side table as he winces from the pain, closing his eyes as he waits for it to stop.

"Hey," she says quietly, gently bumping his shoulder. "Still with me?"

"Yeah," he says with the flicker of a smile, his voice scratchy. "Still here."

"Here, drink." She lifts the cup, directing the straw to his mouth so he can get it. He lifts his head to reach it.

"Thanks," he says when he's finished. He sinks his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes again. He's quiet for a moment, Betty almost thinks he's dozed off before he speaks again. "How long?"

"Since you've been here? A couple days."

He rolls his head towards her and squints one eye open to look at her, eyebrow raised. "A couple days?"

"Yes. You woke up yesterday when Archie was here. Do you remember that?"

He shakes his head, closing his eye again.

"I didn't think so," She sighs, putting the cup back on the side table. "You've been having seizures, the doctor says it's because of your concussion. There's some medication to stop it in your IV and it seems to be working since you haven't had one all day."

Eyes still closed he mutters a quiet "Yay."

"There he is," she laughs. He scrunches his face in her direction and then smiles, cracking his eyes open slightly to look at her.

They're both quiet for a minute, Juggy just watching her as she awkwardly nitpicks at the edge of the blanket.

His smile fades as she asks, "Do you remember what happened out there?"

"Not really.. I didn't see anything, but I heard people talking..They deleted the photos of the car off my phone." He lifts his arm to scratch at his forehead, where he encounters a surprising amount of bandage. He looks at Betty inquisitively.

"You got a pretty good hit to the head, ten stitches." She demonstrates the line of the wound on herself, pointing at her hairline and drawing it back, curving towards her right ear. She falters a bit, "Uh, they kinda had to.. Cut some of your hair.."

Jugheads face immediately falls into his default annoyed and disgusted look, turning his head to stare at the ceiling.

"Sorry," She says, voice full of regret.

He half heartedly pats her hand, "It's not your fault."

"No, it kind of is, I shouldn't let you go out there by yourself."

"You couldn't really get out of your house to stop me anyways."

"But if I was there maybe you wouldn't have gotten attacked!" She sits back in her chair, rubbing at her watering eyes. "Maybe you would still have those pictures and we would have something to show to help Polly. Argh, I wish I had told you to send me them before it was too late."

He rolls his head towards her again, "Hey Bets?"

She wipes at her eyes again, "Yeah?"

"Automatic cloud saves are the best." His mouth twists into a smile.

She stares at the blanket for a moment before suddenly breaking out laughing. Jughead's smile widens as he watches her laugh, amused by how funny she seemed to find this.

"You ok, Betty?"

She wipes her eyes again, this time tears of relief instead of frustration. "Yeah, I'll be ok. I'm very tired and now relieved. Thank you, I feel a lot better knowing you still have them."

Being careful with the IV, he crosses his arms across his chest, raising his shoulders and tapping his temple with his finger, his face scrunched up in a look of smugness. Betty laughs, turning her head away.

They talk for a few minutes more before Jughead's eyelids begin feeling heavy, exhaustion slowly seeping into his body. Betty notices he's starting to fade out and gathers her things, "I'm sorry, you need to rest. I'll bring Archie and Veronica with me tomorrow, OK?"

Juggy grunts noncommittally, leaving Betty to wonder if he actually likes the idea or not. She watches his eyes slip closed again and turns to leave.

"Good night, Betty." He says quietly.

"Good night, Juggy." She whispers, closing the door gently behind her.