There was no denying what decisions had landed FP in this very seat; understanding that whatever desperation he had had yielded specific consequences, even if those consequences had never truly occurred to him. Accomplice in murder, obstruction of justice; all convictions he had prepared himself for. Murder of a teenage boy? Especially a Blossom? That confession had eaten away at him for more than just the fact it was a lie. He hated the way everyone now looked at him. & no matter how many times he’d convinced himself that the opinions of others didn’t concern him, he still felt the effects of the disappointing looks in some, and disgust in others. Those looks hadn’t changed, even with his murder conviction overturned.Â
It came from being a Serpent, from being what everyone believed him to be. Despite opinions bred out of ignorance, FP had worn that leather jacket with a sense of duty; an almost pride. It was learned, if nothing else, because he had taken the mantle of Serpent leader and there was no going back.Â
He may as well have started to look at the life in a different view.Â
Yet he couldn’t help but feel the heat of his seat burn a little hotter this time around — because he had admitted to shooting Jason Blossom, and the woman in front of him had surely believed him too. Even despite the reveal of Clifford being the real perpetrator, no one had even questioned it, and FP couldn’t help but feel like he was entirely the reason for that. No doubt was granted to him because he never gave anyone any reason to believe he was above murdering a teenager. Hell, even with the truth being out, some people still probably believed FP had done something beyond assisting Clifford Blossom.
Life could short you like that when you made the wrong choices.Â
Swallowing his breath, FP wondered if Hiram would have sent out a hit on Fred. The hidden relationship between Hermione and Andrews would almost stand to be enough of a reason, but FP doubted it. Something told him that Hiram would have taken a different approach. Almost seemed like shooting Fred would be too…impersonal.Â
“He gonna be okay?” he rose his gaze from where his fingers drummed lightly on the table, looking at Alice, looking at how the ease and vitality had bled from her features. Seemed like Alice was almost in a permanent state of pissed off, nowadays.Â
Glancing for a moment at the inmate clothing he was donning, FP sort of brushed that off too; his emotions reigned in behind a mask he was not dropping for the world. “You’d think if anyone was gonna make incarceration look good, it’d be me.” Because with the sentence he was looking at, he may as well start looking at his life with a little humor.Â
1998: the last time that Alice Miller ( the Cooper had come later ) had allowed herself to have an honest conversation with Forsythe Pendleton Jones II. Even honest was subjective here, however. She had spoken the words that she wanted to be true. The words that she had wished were true. Over time she had learned to lie so proficiently that she could almost believe it herself, but back then standing in the hall of Riverdale High with the shrieks and music of senior prom pulsing in the air she had been very aware of her lies. Under the tulle of her prom dress there was a barely concealed bulge, the first glance of life that was ready to make itself known. She had looked into his eyes that night and lied. She hadn’t told the truth since.
It was easier to slip back into that mindset than to start being honest now. She had nearly forgotten now. The time for confessions had come and gone. Their lives had moved on. It would only be cruel at this point to tell him that somewhere out there was another son, living his life while F.P.’s ticked away behind bars. Instead of the fabric of her dress, Alice let her hands rest on the table. The child that she had once been had been extinguished a long time ago.
“Honestly? They don’t know. He hasn’t woken up. Archibald is living at the hospital and Mary is back in town.”
Despite the fact that she and Mary Andrews had been considered best friends at one point, Alice couldn’t help but spit her name. They were no longer friends. She had cut ties with her high school self and moved on quickly into adulthood. Her daughters and her career had come fast, a blur that didn’t leave much room for reflection. Despite the gap that had grown between them though, Alice knew F.P. was innocent. For a moment she had doubted him, let Veronica and Archie search his place where she entertained him at the kitchen table in the seat beside her husband. Alice had almost hoped that he was guilty, forever putting him out of reach and out of mind. Now it was clear that he wasn’t and she had no apologies to give. She had lost the will to say them years before.
“Well,” the corner of her lips tugged up in a brief smile. “You always did consider yourself more impressive than reality would permit.”
