In Your Arms

In Your Arms Chaper One: Headaches

Betty's POV...

     I stare down at the paper in front of me, smiling in satisfaction as the words are neatly scribbled down on it.  I frame the paper and wrap it up in a gift box and store it away in my locked drawer that's in the bedroom Jughead and I share.  I cannot wait for our one year wedding anniversary in one month and to see his reaction when he reads the poem I wrote for him.  Granted he's much better at writing than I am, but I put a lot of effort into this and hopefully he'll like it.
     A slight breeze fills the house as it flies through the open windows, the refreshing scent of daffodils, roses and other wildflowers scenting the rooms throughout it.  I inhale the delightful smells and close my eyes green eyes, sighing in contentment.
     I stand up and walk to the kitchen, placing my hand on my temple as a throbbing pain seeps into my head.  Another headache.  I stagger into the bathroom and reach into the cupboard, grasping the Advil and yanking a plastic cup from the cup holder that sits on the bathroom sink.
     Quickly filling the the cup with water and popping two Advil's out of their container and into my mouth I swallow, exhaling as I rub my temple once more.  All of a sudden I hear Juliet's cries from upstairs and I saunter out of the downstairs bathroom and rush upstairs, creaking Juliet's door opens and reaching down into her white, wooden crib.
     My thumb grazes her purple sheets and quilt blanket as I pick her up and coddle her in my arms.  I had found out that I was pregnant after Jughead and my's honeymoon and we were both ecstatic about it.  When Juliet Forsythia Jones—I had to have some form of Forsythe in Juliet's name, no matter how much Jughead protested—was born it was the second most happiest day of our lives.  I wouldn't change it for the world.
     Jughead walks out from his study, leaning in Juliet's doorframe and smirking at Juliet and me.  His sparkling blue eyes are full with love as he inhales, preparing to say something.
     "There are my two favorite girls," he whispers once Juliet stops wailing and screaming.
     "Hey," I whisper, smiling at him as I coddle Juliet in my arms still, "How's the novel going?"
     "It's almost finished," he beams, his smile growing ever more wide.
     "Well based on what I've read already, I can tell it's going to be a bestseller," I inform him, nodding my head in utter sureness.
     "We'll see," he responds, walking up to me and pressing his lips gently against mine, the embrace brief, yet full of warmth, comfort and passion.
     We pull back and I sigh as I shift Juliet to my left arm, rubbing my forehead with my right hand and scrunching my nose in discomfort.
     "Another headache?" Jughead frowns, gently taking Juliet from my arm and cradling her in his.
     I nod, "Yeah," I reply.  These headaches have been happening since Juliet was born, which was over two months ago.  I've been feeling really weak lately, and I've been vomiting, but I didn't mention that to Jughead.  I figured and still figure that it's just from the natural stress of being a first-time mom. 
     "Maybe you should see a doctor, Betts," Jughead suggests, eyeing me with a worried look.
     I exhale, "Jug I'm..."
     "...fine'," he finishes for me, "You've been saying that for the past two months, Baby.  I really think you should see someone."
     I sigh again, "Will it give you peace at mind?"
     He nods, "Definitely, just to know that you're positively, 100% okay."
     I roll my eyes, smirking and shaking my head, "Always so protective," I chuckle.
     He grins, "Only for you, Betty Jones, and of course our daughter."
     I walk closer to him, ridding ourselves of the few inches between us and I collide my lips with his, caressing his cheek.  A few moments later we hear faint gurgles from Juliet and we break away, smiling down at our little girl.
     "Hey baby," I whisper, tickling her little belly—which causes her to wiggle around in Jughead's arms and giggle loudly. 
     We both burst out laughing at the giggles of Juliet and we stare down at her.  Jughead leans his neck down and gently kisses her forehead, and then her stomach.
     "Hey Buggie," he whispers to her, which makes my heart melt.  Her stomach growls which makes my smile grow wider and my eyes roll.
     "Yep, she's a Jones alright," Jughead cackles, passing Juliet back to me.  I sit in the white rocking chair that's in her room, pulling my shirt down and beginning to breastfeed her.
     I can see Jughead gaping at me from my peripheral vision, and I glare at him.
     "Quit your staring, would you?" I bark, making his cheeks tint with red as he meets my eyes.
     "What? I can't look at my gorgeous wife?" He says innocently.
     "Not when my eyes are up here," I respond and he sticks his tongue at me childishly.
     I tsk, my tongue clicking against the roof of my mouth, "So immature."
     "Aw cmon! You love me," he winks, making me snort and laugh.
     "Sadly, I can't disagree with that statement."
     He walks up to me and kisses my forehead before walking out and returning to his study to continue writing his novel.  My head pounds with pain again and I sigh, my smile turning into a frown as I stare down at Juliet.
     "Hi Jules," I begin to talk to her and when she's done eating I rest her against my shoulder, rubbing and patting her back so she burps.  When she finally does she looks up and me and her eyelids flutter over her green eyes, falling as she drifts off to sleep.
     I smile once more and place her in her crib, stalking off to the master bedroom and laying down on the comfortable bed.
     I quickly take my ponytail out before resting my head against my pillow, my golden locks flowing around my head as they spread apart on it.  I close my eyes and ignore the throbbing pain in my head as I drift off to a much-needed sleep.

     Jug and I arrive at the doctors office after thanking Veronica for watching Juliet for us while we came.  Although I assured Jughead that I'd be fine alone, he insisted to come along anyway, which I find endearing as much as I pretend to be playfully annoyed.
     "Elizabeth Cooper," A lady calls and Jughead and I both stand, walking up to her so we can be led back into a room.
     Jughead clears his throat, "It's actually Elizabeth Jones," he corrects, making me toss my eyes in a circle.
     "My mistake, we'll update that in our files.  Right this way, please," she responds, leading us back to a room.
     "The doctor will be with you in a moment," she informs us once we're situated, sauntering out of the room and gently closing the door behind her.
     I sit up on the cot and sigh, glaring at Jughead.  He looks back at me and shrugs his shoulders in confusion, "What?" He questions, dumbfounded.
     "Was it really necessary to tag along?" I ask and he sighs as well.
     "Yes, Betts.  I want to make sure that you're okay, since these headaches aren't normal," he answers.
     I nod my head, looking down.  I guess he was right, since a slight part of me had always felt like—and still feels like—something's amiss.  I've felt this way ever since the headaches started, but I usually just neglected it and pushed the feeling away as I downed some Aspirin's.
     There's a faint knock on the door, and a few moments later the doctor walks into our room, closing it behind him.
     "Hello Elizabeth, what seems to be the issue today?" he asks sitting down in a chair next to Jughead in front of me.
     "Well, for the past two months I've been getting these horrible headaches, and I've also been puking and feeling a bit unusually weak," I describe the symptoms of my unknown cause to the doctor, and his eyes widen in fear.  Jughead also looks at me, raising his eyebrows questioningly as to why I haven't told him about the other symptoms.  I brush his look off and return to looking at the doctor.
     He pulls out his notepad and writes what I told him down on it, as well as jotting down something else.  He rips the paper off and passes it to me, where I see a phone number and an address written underneath my symptoms.
     "That's the number and address of a neurologist who's a good friend of mine.  Based on what you've described to me, I'd like you to go visit her and get an MRI," he tells me, and my eyebrows raise in surprise.
     Neurologist? MRI? Those are things that relate to...
     Oh my god.  Do I have a brain tumor?
     "Wait, wait, wait, you're suggesting this because..?" I hedge, wanting a blunt answer.
     He takes off his glasses and sighs, folding them together and sticking them into his pocket, "I'm afraid based on what you've described to me, that there's a chance you might have a brain tumor."