Chapter Text
Somehow, I knew someday
This would hurt 'cause I could never let you go
Do you not dream of me?
'Cause I have visions in my sleep
I can never find my peace now
Do you wake up alone?
Feel an aching in your bones
Or are you happy without me now?
"Crazier Things" by Chelsea Cutler feat. Noah Kahan
We’re in the endgame now -- Dr. Strange
When it finally happens, when Betty Cooper finally returns to this plane on Earth as a physical entity, no longer just fragments of dust, she’s blipped back to where she was, five years ago, at work in a tall high-rise office.
The building is completely empty and she has no idea why. Her company alone employs over 500 people so there should definitely be people there but she’s the only one standing in the desolate space. She looks around the room -- it seems to be completely abandoned.
She takes a hesitant step towards the glass windows. They’re completely covered in dust and she traces a single line down a few inches with her index finger. Layers and layers of dust meet her touch.
Her purse is gone and so is her phone. They were sitting on what used to be her desk but all of that is not here. Her desk is gone, the conference table is gone, the receptionist’s welcome desk is gone -- all of it, completely vanished.
The panic is starting to build within her body and she forces herself to take in a deep breath to calm down. She can’t panic. This is not the time for that.
She needs to get out of here.
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The elevator doesn’t work.
So, she practically runs down ten flights of stairs, eternally thankful that her company wasn’t on the 50th or 60th floor because that would’ve been an innumerable amount of stairs. All the doors are disabled and unlocked so she flits out of the stairwell with ease and into the harsh light of day.
There's trash littered all over the place in the alleyway and it looks completely abandoned. As she takes a few cautious steps further onto the larger avenue, she thinks she's in the middle of a post-apocalyptic nightmare. This is not the city she remembers. Everything looks decayed and rotting. There's barely any life here.
She has no idea what time it is. She has no idea what year it is or what is happening. She is a rational person but the hysteria is getting harder and harder to avoid. She doesn’t let herself give into it quite yet.
She doesn’t have any answers. What she knows, with brilliant certainty, is that her name is Betty Cooper. She lives in Manhattan with her long-time boyfriend and childhood love, Jughead Jones. They are in love. He was going to propose, she knew it. And then something terrible happened.
She still has no idea what it is but as she walks down the waste-filled and damaged streets, she knows something is very, very wrong.
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It takes over an hour to walk from where her office is located in Midtown Manhattan all the way down to the Lower East Side. The subway isn’t running which is the strangest thing. Of all things that have happened in the short amount of time that she’s been awake today, this is what terrifies her the most.
There has to be something tragically wrong if even the subway has stopped.
There are people out on the street like her, dazed and confused as to what’s happening. She tries to approach a few friendlier looking folks but it’s a mistake. They start to cry, lost in a discombobulated mess. No one seems to understand what’s happening right now.
So, she continues walking, wrapping her arms around herself. It’s chilly out and it’s very perplexing. It’s supposed to be May. It doesn’t get this cold in May.
She loses count of how many blocks she’s walked. When she finally rounds the corner and steps onto the sidewalk of her small side street, she’s so happy to finally be somewhere familiar.
It still looks the same. Her street hasn’t changed. At least, she can be grateful for that.
As she moves along it, she traces her fingertips along the familiar cast-iron gates and the texture of the tree bark. It grounds her.
That’s clearly something much bigger happening right now, much larger than she’ll ever truly be able to comprehend, so she needs to center herself on small things that she can understand. The feel of tree bark, rough against her skin -- this, she knows. The sound of iron when you flick something against it, a gentle clanging sound -- this, she also knows.
When she finally arrives at the steps to the entrance of her building, she feels the nerves start to build up within her. What if he’s not here? What if something also happened to him?
She knows he would return here like she is doing now. If she just waits, she knows that he’ll come back to her because he always does. Jughead is her constant like she is his. It’s always been this way.
The door is slightly ajar. Whoever closed the front door last didn’t shut it all the way so she’s able to sneak through without any issues. When she enters, the entire building looks so familiar. She can smell her neighbors cooking up something delicious. The scent wafts through the lobby and she’s instantly comforted by it. There are some things that never change.
She slowly ascends the stairs until she arrives at their apartment, 2A. She doesn’t have a key; it disappeared along with her purse so she has to knock which is a bizarre thing to have to do at your own apartment.
She hears shuffling behind the door and a wave of relief washes over her. He’s here. He’s still here.
Jughead doesn’t open the door though. A beautiful blonde a few inches shorter than her does.
She has platinum blonde hair styled in a medium bob. Her hair is slightly curled and pulled back by a headband. She has the palest, alabaster skin and her eyes are a deep brown, haunting and captivating. This person, an unfamiliar being, that is currently in what she thinks is hers and Jughead’s apartment, is absolutely stunning.
She flashes Betty a warm smile and cocks her head to the side.
“Can I help you?” She asks, her voice light and effervescent.
“Hi, I’m so sorry. This is my apartment-” she fumbles a bit, “or at least it definitely was. I’m looking for-”
The words come out disjointed and awkward. She has no idea what is happening right now and it’s all incredibly confusing. Why is this person here? Does she live here? Before she can finish her sentence, she sees him past the blonde woman, walking from their living room into the hallway.
“Sab, who is it?” He calls out. He hasn’t looked up yet, still fussing with something in his hands. It’s a jar. He’s trying to open it.
They’re making dinner, a domestic task, in the apartment that used to be hers and his. It’s not hers any longer. She flinches at this thought, as if it physically wounds her. Confusion and betrayal bubble up inside her but she squashes it all down. Maybe this woman is just a platonic roommate? Except this is a one-bedroom apartment and roommates don't work like that.
Betty still doesn’t know what’s happening yet and she desperately needs some answers. Jughead can give that to her. She shouldn't just turn and bolt in the opposite direction like she wants to.
When he finally does look up, he drops the jar and it smashes to the floor, glass and its contents spilling everywhere. He doesn’t care. He just walks over all of it, practically running towards the door and accidentally shoving Sabrina out of the way.
“Betty,” he breathes out.
“Betty?” Sabrina asks from the side, her eyes wide.
Betty nods. It’s the only thing that she’s capable of doing right now as she collapses into his arms.
“Jug,” she whispers against him.
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Betty’s sitting on the couch in the apartment that used to be hers, like a guest -- like she didn’t used to live here and she didn’t buy said couch. Sabrina hands her a steaming ceramic mug that curiously looks like she may have handmade it herself; the hot liquid is bitter and it tastes strangely herbal. It’s unappetizing.
Betty sets it down on a coaster on the coffee table, giving Sabrina a polite smile. “This is great, thanks.”
Jughead watches her with an amused expression like he knows exactly what she’s thinking and Betty adamantly ignores it. Sabrina shuffles off into the bedroom, clearly feeling uncomfortable and wanting to give them some space so they can talk.
Betty breaks the steady gaze and looks away. He’s quiet for a few moments and she thinks about the reasons why. Perhaps, this is just as difficult for him. The silence only makes this more uncomfortable. When he finally does speak, his voice is shaky.
She had disappeared on May 5, 2018, along with half of all life on Earth. At first, no one knew what had happened and everything was thrown into a state of chaos. Everyone stupidly held onto hope thinking that the Avengers would fix it and save the world like they always did. But the days melted into weeks that dragged into months and then years; it became painfully clear that this wasn’t something that could be remedied with force.
Jughead refused to believe it at first that Betty was truly snapped away. He wanted so desperately to believe that it was a lie and that he would be able to find her somehow. But then he saw the video that her co-worker had recorded of the whole incident and there, in the far left corner, was Betty -- her entire body dissipating into a wisp without any trace remaining.
“I needed concrete evidence to believe it,” he says quietly, his hands clasped in front of him. “I think I rewatched that footage at least a hundred times. I just couldn’t process it.”
Betty doesn’t know what to say to this. She can’t even begin to comprehend the correct response.
He tells her what date it is today. It’s October 3, 2023. She's lost five entire years. How can she ever return to normalcy after that?
“What do you remember?” Jughead asks.
“Honestly, not a whole lot. The last thing I recall is that I was about to walk into Nicole’s office to check in with her before our department meeting and then nothing. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in an abandoned building that used to be where I work.”
“Nothing?” He questions.
“Nothing,” she reaffirms.
He doesn’t seem to believe her.
She knows what she wants to ask but the words die on her tongue. She can’t push them out her mouth as much as she wants to. Who is she? Do you love her? When did you fall out of love with me and in love with her? Why didn’t you wait? Why was it so easy for you to let go of me? Did you miss me?
Betty doesn’t ask any of these things. She simply collapses against the couch with a sigh.
“I should go.”
“Stay,” he says immediately. “It’s getting late. You should stay.”
He wants her to stay, like she's a guest, an outsider, an intruder. It feels all sorts of wrong and she can’t possibly bear it. He asks too much of her. How could she possibly stay and likely sleep on the couch while he and Sabrina retreat to the bedroom that is no longer hers to have?
He can’t really want that for her. That would just be too cruel.
This is all so convoluted and she needs time to process and evaluate her emotions and everything she’s learned in the last few hours. The main thing that she should be focusing on is the five years of her life that's now missing and gone because of Thanos. But all that she can actually fixate on is that he has moved on but she hasn’t had a chance to. This is all fresh for her. The wounds and the pain are brand new, still pulsing from the execution of their relationship.
Jughead is the only person that she’s ever fallen in love with. How is she supposed to turn off those feelings now that he is no longer hers?
She needs to get away from him.
“Can I borrow your phone?” She asks.
Jughead raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, of course.” He hands her his cell phone.
Betty tries not to react to the background picture of him and Sabrina smiling happily whilst embracing one another. The image is so vividly burned into her brain; her right eye twitches for the briefest of moments. Before he can say anything, she inputs the only number she can think of into the phone and dials.
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When Betty arrives at the apartment building, Veronica runs at her and pulls her into a hug with such force that Betty had to take a moment to regain her breath.
“Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Veronica manages to squeeze out between her tears and gulping gasps of air. “I’ve missed you so much, B. I was a wreck without you.”
Betty pulls back from the hug but doesn’t let go. “I’m sorry I left you.”
“Don’t say that. You didn’t leave. This is all space aliens and magical stones with infinite power. None of it makes any sense. I’ve stopped trying to understand it. I’m just happy you’re back now.”
Veronica leads her into her and Reggie’s apartment and before Betty can step even three feet into the space, she’s enveloped in a tight hug.
“I missed you, Coop,” Reggie tells her. His strong arms feel so comforting and Betty is so thankful that this is still so familiar.
Veronica and Reggie's guest bedroom is somewhere that Betty’s slept in many nights in the past. Betty flops onto the king-sized bed, body bouncing a few times on it before she leans back and lets out a happy sigh.
“This bed is still the most comfortable thing I’ve laid on,” she declares.
Veronica throws herself onto the mattress right next to her and they collide a bit and both giggle from it. “You know I only provide the best for my dearest friend.”
Betty traces her fingertips along the fabric, following the pattern of the seams. “What happened with you guys?”
Veronica and Reggie were really lucky. Neither of them were snapped. Hiram and Hermione also survived unscathed but Reggie’s mom disappeared. They spent months trying to console his father, hoping and praying that she would return.
“When we got the call from his mom a few hours ago, the first person I thought of was you. I hoped that if she could find her way back, you would too,” Veronica says, blinking back tears.
Betty rolls over on her side and cuddles close to her. “I’m so happy you guys were okay.”
She starts to recall to Veronica everything that happened since she rematerialized earlier today. Veronica listens with rapt attention, her hand on Betty’s the entire time. When she gets to the part about visiting her old apartment and Jughead, Betty pauses, unable to say the rest.
“Was she there?” Veronica asks.
“Yes. She answered the door actually,” Betty replies. After a few awkward beats, she tries her best to act nonchalant. “She seems nice.”
“She is,” Veronica returns simply. Her brown eyes are wrinkled at the corners with concern. “It took him years to finally accept that you were really gone. I guess you weren’t actually.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “He truly mourned your loss though, Betty, and I don’t think he ever forgot you. He’s not capable of it.”
“I don’t really want to hear this, V.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t blame him,” Betty says quietly. “I’m glad that he didn’t spiral. I’m happy that he moved on but-”
“But?”
“I just don’t know what to do now that I’m back. I haven’t moved on. I haven’t had the chance to,” she says, her voice so soft that it’s practically a whisper. “I can’t hate him for it. I don’t really understand everything that I’m feeling right now. All I’ve ever wanted for Jughead is for him to be happy, truly happy. If he is now, without me, then maybe that’s something that I will just need to come to accept.”
“You’re very wise for someone that’s been dead for five years,” Veronica comments wryly.
“Was I dead though? I don’t really know what I was. I can’t remember any of it. Just blackness and a void.”
“Sounds like death to me.”
“Perhaps.” Betty shrugs. She looks out the window at the night sky, watching the grey clouds swirl into the darkness. “Can I stay with you guys?”
“Do you even have to ask? Of course, you can. I don’t know if I can even let you out of my sight for the next few days. I don’t want you to disappear again.”
Betty smiles at that. “I’m not going anywhere, V.”
It’s the truth. Nothing could tear her away from this reality again.
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They call it the Snap and the Blip.
The Snap occurred five years ago when Thanos collected all six Infinity stones, activated the Infinity Gauntlet, and snapped away half of all civilization across all the universes. The Blip happened three days ago when the Hulk successfully resurrected all the victims of the Snap.
Betty Cooper is officially back and it seems that she’s been given the opportunity to resume her life once again except she can’t. Nothing is the same.
The first few days back, all she can do is read. She reads everything she can find from the past 5 years, from articles officially published in news outlets to things that people have posted online. Voracious for knowledge, she doesn’t sleep much. Instead, she lies in bed, the soft glow of Veronica’s tablet washing over her, furiously reading. It’s like the more she knows, the more she can shield herself from all the emotions she’s feeling.
Instead of processing them, she focuses on this. This distracts her and provides her with an odd sense of solace like the more she learns, the more it’s like she actually lived out those last five years.
She can almost pretend like she was there. But maybe it’s better that she wasn’t. After all, it seemed like the world was plunged into a dystopian state of depression. It all came to a standstill. People were mourning and hoping for something that wasn’t within reach.
They all have to move on from this. She has to move on from this. The first step is always the hardest.
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