Quick, or maybe not so quick A/N:

I'm sorry for taking such a long hiatus. The truth is, I became burned out on this story without finishing it, and then, I got inspiration for personal stories that I've been working on instead. It's not an excuse, it's just what happened, but I'm going to try and push forward with this story, because I do want to finish it, and I want you all to know how it ends. It might just turn into weekly updates, but I will keep working on it, and I'll try not to be gone as long. Thank you for reading.

Wake up. A familiar voice hissed, but it was not Jughead who had spoken.

It was her, or rather, her own subconscious, begging, pleading with her to open her eyes, to remember.

Everything.

Though instead of listening, she shut the voice out, like she had so many times before, if only to protect herself from the impending memories, recollections she didn't want to recall.

At least, not yet.

She couldn't, she wasn't ready to hear what she already knew, deep down.

"Betty." Jughead muttered. "Open your eyes."

Come back to me.

She followed through with his instructions, easily taking in her surroundings before she allowed her gaze to meet his own.

"Betty..." He began.

Her hand was still curled around Jason's phone.

Betty broke away from his grasp, jumping to her feet. He quickly followed suit, surprise, confusion, concern and annoyance etching across his features.

"Why did you take that?" Jughead demanded.

She ignored him, typing in the passcode again.

10-12-00.

"Betty!"

For reasons even she didn't understand, Betty went to the phone icon located at the bottom of the screen.

"Betty." He said again, making a grab for her wrist. She stepped away. "What are you doing? Give that to me."

She let out a gasp that suddenly had his fingers locking around her wrist for a completely different reason.

Jason had made a call at ten-fifty-five PM on July 4th.

The night he died.

It had only lasted ten seconds.

Betty. The contact name read.

Jason had tried to call her.