For FP Jones, the hallucinations started right after the explosion rang through out the compound, on the day he should have died. Right after the explosion that he later learned took the lives of half his squad. Everyone on the squad had always joked that Fp Jones had a guardian angel, that he was practically indestructible but he never had cause to believe it...choosing instead to believe that he was just a damn good solider. Lying on the hot desert sand as flames erupted around him listening to the screams of some of the toughest me he's ever met and the strange feeling of calm washing over him made him think maybe they were right. FP Jones had seen a lot of action in the near 15 years he had been in the military, he'd seen more blood, bombs, and broken men then any human ought to see. But the extraordinary thing about FP Jones is all he ever did was see it, no other man would be there for so many raids, explosion and attacks and come out of it with nothing more than memories.
There's no way FP should've lived, not for anyone of his past encounters and definitely not for this, he had been right at the sight of the explosion the fact that he had been thrown by the blast into a nearby building and not burnt to a crisp was miracle on it's own but to walk away with not a scratch that was something else entirely . At least that's what the doctors told him. All he remembers is waking up in the hospital with a head ache...and her, he remember her. Starring into her eyes as she reached out to him, her walking towards him wrapped in his favourite plaid shirt, her sitting down next to him in the desert, her running her hands through his hair, her perfectly manicures nails scratching lightly at his scalp the way he always loved, her whispering sweet nothings in his ear as chaos closed in, all he remembered was Allie.
FP walked out of that hospital a week later with nothing but a prescription for some pain killers he vowed to never touch and a new lease on life. Allie had saved him, she had given him a second chance at a life he was content on wasting and he was going to take it. He had never been a dumb man despite what people may have thought, he knew that too much time had passed to show up on Alice Smiths door step with an apology. He'd lost that chance a long time ago. So instead he made a plan to live the best life he could without her by his side.
He sold his trailer and the little else in his possession and bought himself a van. Sure it wasn't the coolest ride, and it was most certainly not a chick magnet but he had a roof over his head. He spent two years driving through the great US of A going everywhere he thought she would like, he started off in Durham, North Carolina he walked through Duke University and imagined Allie walking in the same courtyard, grabbing a coffee in that same cafe. He felt close to her there, he felt he was living in the dreams she'd whispered to him there senior year. He went to Milwaukee and drank at a bar just like in the Laverne and Shirley reruns she would make him watch again and again. He spent her birthday at the top of the Empire State Building, thinking of how she demanded her propose to her there just like Cary Grant in 'An Affair to Remember'. He went everywhere he could think of that would bring her closer, hoping he would find the right place and the ghost of her would stay behind instead of following him. Until one day he got a call that stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Is this a Mister FP Jones?" A gravelly old voice spoke from the other end of the phone, FP muttered an affirmation and the voice continued on to FP's devastation "I'm Wallace Buford, and I'm calling on behalf of Mr Terrance Tates estate...I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this but Pop Tate died in his sleep early this morning. Now there's many details I need to go over with you but I'll get to all that more Sunday at the reading of his will. I'm sure you understand it is of the upmost importance that you be there." The old man continued to ramble on but it fell on deaf ears as FP came to terms with the fact that Pop was gone, and that this time five days from now he'd be back in the one place he'd spent all these years running from, Riverdale.
Alice Smith placed the last candle on her impeccably baked congratulatory cake, starring out the window into the backyard hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy the hour, her son Charles had just graduated high school and with his birthday just around the corner and the pride of him being excepted into 3 top tier university's her and her husband Hal had agreed to host the "the last summer of freedom party" as Charles coined it. She searched through the sea of crazy teenagers inhabiting her backyard only to be disappointed when Charles was no where in sight. The sound of her husbands raised voice answered any of the questions popping into her head and she followed the sound out to the front yard.
"You think I'm going to standby and watch as you through everything this family has worked for away?! Hey! Listen to me when I'm talking to you" Alice opened the front door in time to watch as and angered Hal grabbed Charles arm and pulled him back so they were standing toe to toe. "I don't care what you want you're going to Law school".
"Hal, let go of my son." Alices' tone left no room for discussion. Hal hung his head guilty at being caught in the middle of a conversation he had sworn to have dropped. Alice walked over to Charles placing a motherly hand on his cheek "You go back to your party baby, I left the cake in the kitchen why don''t you bring it out? You leave your father to me." Charles smiled warmly at his mother before casting a cold glare at his father and heading inside. Alice opened her mouth ready to fight with Hal about the same thing for the millionth time.
"Oh so now I'm his father" Hal muttered as he walked by her rolling his eyes and heading for the garage where Alice was sure he'd spend the rest of his night with his fully stocked beer fridge.
Alice stood in the front yard for what felt like an eternity, wondering how she ended up here, in a marriage identical to the one she grew up resenting. She was brought out of her thoughts by the blaring of her cellphone. "Hello?" She answered bringing the device to her ear.
"Is this a Ms. Alice Smith" the caller questioned.
"Actually It's Cooper now, but yes. This is she." Nothing could have prepared her for the words that followed. She listened in shock muttering a small "Mhmm" when necessary, it wasn't until after the call ended that she allowed a tear to fall. Pops was dead. Somehow that felt impossible, it always felt like Pop was an old all knowing being who would outlast them all. She held the phone tightly to her chest as she cried a if though holding it tight enough to break it would make the news that had poured out of it any less real.
Later that night with the mess of the party the least of her worries Alice Cooper sat in her robe on the steps of their back porch nursing a glass of wine lost in thought. She gazed up at the stars wondering if Pop was looking down at her, he had once held her as she cried over a lost love on and told her that he believed that the stars above were the lights of the brightest human souls shining and watching over us, Alice hoped now more than ever that it was true because she still needed Pops guidance and words of encouragement...she wasn't ready to say goodbye.
At the sound of the back door opening she wiped away a tear she hadn't noticed escaped. She looked up to see Charles standing beside her. She patted the open spot next to her and he sat down.
"Look Mom, about earlier I'm sorry if I caused any trouble with you and dad..." He couldn't meet her eyes as he spoke so he just reached over and took her hand. "I'll look into Law school if it'll make you happy. I can't stand seeing you cry."
"Oh my sweet boy," Alice said scooting closer on the step and wrapping her arm around him, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. She hoped he never stopped allowing her to hold him like this, he was 17 and she realized that soon he would be moving on and so she relished in every moment she got. "Our problems have nothing to do with you, and they're nothing you should be worrying about. I'm just crying because well... you remember Pop Tate?" Charles nodded into her shoulder cuddling impossibly closer sensing where the conversation was headed. His mother told him about the news she had received, and he asked her to tell him about Pop and Alice happily complied. She rambled on for an hour about picking up shifts at the diner he had owned, about the time they had gotten in a food fight while making cherry pies, carefully leaving out the many stories of FP that flooded her mind for the first time in years.
"Here let me" Charles said standing signally the end of there heart to heart, he grabbed the almost empty wine glass from her hand taking the last gulp, a mischievous smirk pulling at the sides of his mouth.
Alice gasped watching the deep red liquid disappear "You cheeky little..." she stood up and he met her with a quick peck on the cheek " You are such trouble, just like your Dad." She chuckled.
"Good night" He teased, leaving her shaking her head and thinking about how much he truly was his fathers' son.
"You can't just up and leave like this Alice! I have that firm dinner on Friday and you promised me you'd come. How is it going to look if I show up to one of the most important meetings of my career without my wife?!" Hal ranted watching as his wife move from within the closet coming out only to neatly fold her clothes into the suit case laying open on their bed.
"Oh God Hal, you're right the next time someone I love dies I'll be sure to clear it with your secretary first." Alice snapped slamming her suit case closed. "Look, Pop didn't have anybody. I'm the closest thing he ever had to a daughter. I'm going, you're staying. That's that alright?" She sighed looking into his eyes searching for something even akin to sympathy for her, but found nothing.
"Fine" Hal said turning to leave the room. Maybe some time apart would do them good.