Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the Archie comics. Hell, I don't even own Bobby or any other person baring the Mercer name.
1st P.O.V. Detroit-Riverdale, 2016
I tucked the green scarf into Evan's blue parka. It was cold outside, and they would be here any moment to pick him up. By his feet stood a kid-sized suitcase with a bunch of dinosaurs printed out onto it.
I smiled at the boy, reassuring him that it would be alright. I stood up from kneeling when I heard a car pull up to my driveway.
"Aggie?" Evan looked at me with the biggest eyes a seven-year-old could muster and I nearly melted at the innocence they held.
"Yes?"
"Will they play with me?"
I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Your new brothers and sisters?"
Evan nodded, his tiny dreadlocks bobbing as his head moved.
I grinned. "Of course they will! I met them last week. They were so excited to meet you. I think André even wanted to teach you how to play catch."
Evan looked fearful for a moment. "Are they nice?"
I put my hand on Evan's shoulder and gave him a serious look. "I would never put you in harm's way. I made absolutely sure that the Peterson's were nothing but the sweetest people alive. Okay?"
Evan sniffed as his voice quivered. "Okay."
To me, this was always the hardest part. The sending kids off.
After travelling the world for nearly all of my twenties and the first couple years of my thirties, I decided to lay down some roots somewhere.
Temporary roots.
I used to work as a travel writer, while authoring a fictional series of books on the side. But I didn't feel really fulfilled. That probably explained me moving around from place to place.
I had graduated from The University of Glasgow at the top of my class as a double major in both Writing and Social Work.
A couple of years ago, I got the offer to have my book series made into a film. Initially, I said no. But then I thought of all the good I could use that money for. So I said yes on two conditions. 1.) That they keep my real name out of it, as I used a pen name for my books. And 2.) That it be made into a low-key show, preferably on Netflix.
Five years and three seasons later, I was living in Detroit.
I picked Detroit because I wanted to help the kids there. Detroit, one of the most violent cities in the U.S., needed more help than it received. I quit my job as a travel writer, rented a house, and became a case worker for kids.
I also became a foster parent, giving children and teenagers a temporary place to stay, until I found permanent families that were willing to adopt them.
It was hard at times. Sometimes there would be outbursts of anger, sometimes there would be outbursts of tears. Sometimes there would only be silence, which was the worst, because it usually meant something traumatizing had happened.
But I did my best, and usually, it paid off in the end.
I liked doing this. It was fulfilling. And it was my way of escape.
However, good times rarely last.
One rare period of having no children or teens in my house, I took a weekend trip to Chicago. I was exiting a theater when I noticed a familiar mop of red hair.
"Mary? Is that you?" My brother's wife turned around and was shocked to see me.
I laughed and ran over, giving her a hug. "Oh My God! You cut your hair! It looks good."
Mary's eyes darted around as she pulled away from my hug and twirled a strand of her hair. "Thanks." She murmured.
I grinned and I turned around to see if my brother and Archie were nearby.
"Are the boys with you?" I asked.
Mary shook her head. "No, I'm here alone."
My smile faltered. Mary, last I heard, didn't have much of a job and she had no family in this area. "Why are you here?"
Mary gave me a sad smile. "I live here now."
My stomach dropped. "By yourself?"
She nodded.
I covered my mouth in shock. "What happened with you and Freddy?"
Mary gave me an uncomfortable look and said, "Listen, it was nice to see you, but I have somewhere to be. I suggest you call your brother if you want to know what happened."
She turned heel and left.
Fred Andrews, my big brother by a year, was now separated from his wife.
I wasn't on social media, I never liked the idea of it. So I wrote and called Fred when I could, but sometimes we lost touch for a couple months.
I knew that him and Mary argued, but I never imagined they would be separated. After trying to reach Fred a couple times, I took it upon myself to move back home. I put it off for a couple months until I could find Evan a home, and now that I did, I put in ny two weeks notice at work.
I waved Evan off as he climbed into the van with his new family and I have Mr. and Mrs. Peterson a piece of paper with my number and soon-to-be new address on it. I went inside my house after they left and I went to the kitchen, where a certain somebody was drinking a cup of coffee.
"Leaving is always the toughest part, believe me." Bobby took a sip of his drink as I sat down in front of him.
Bobby Mercer was my friend.
Sort of.
We were like friends with benefits. I met him when some jerk tried to steal my purse in the parking lot of the grocery store. Bobby took it back and told the kid not to mess with me, because I was with the Mercers, which I soon came to learn, was an infamous name across Detroit.
Bobby had a mother once, who adopted him from the system when he was twelve. In 2005 she was shot and killed, and as the rumor goes, Bobby and his brothers took out vengeance to those who ended their mother's life.
Bobby and his brothers were all adopted. He was Caucasian, stocky, and extremely muscular. He had slicked back hair, a 'don't-fuck-with-me' walk, and a tattoo on his upper back that said No Mercy. I met his brothers once. Jeremiah was African-American, same as Angel, and they were both married. Jerry was married to a woman named Camille, and he had two daughters. Angel, an ex-Marine was married to a fiery woman named Sofi, and they lived alone without kids. There was another brother once. His name was Jack. Bobby told me that he was killed in a drive-by only a couple weeks after their mom died. He was only 23.
Initially, I was put off by Bobby. He was crass, bold, and downright vulgar. He was too much like someone else I knew...but he had a heart of gold that he liked to hide underneath his tough exterior. He helped me learn my way around Detroit and what to do to make a foster child feel welcome. His tips always worked. One day, after a particularly tearful goodbye to one of the kids who had gone to live with their new parents, Bobby came over. One thing led to another and the next thing I know, I'm waking up the following morning with a strong headache and a naked Bobby next to me.
We kept it casual from there on out though. He had too many demons, as did I.
Still, it was nice to let go once and a while.
Bobby had a key to my place, so he came in this morning through the back.
I gave him a half-hearted smile. "Letting them leave is probably harder."
Bobby put his cup down and said, "You're doing the right thing. Now onto something less depressing, is it true you're leaving?"
I sighed. "Yeah. It's time to go."
Bobby shook his head and crossed his arms. "That ain't right. You belong here."
I stood up and put Bobby's cup in the sink. "No, I don't. Not anymore. I need to go back home."
I heard Bobby get up from behind me and I felt his lips on my neck.
"This is your home."
I turned around and pressed my lips to his. "My brother needs me.", I whispered, "Do you understand?"
Bobby gave an irritated sigh and mumbled, "Yeah, I guess."
I hugged him, and for a second he stiffened, but relaxed into my embrace anyway. "I'll miss you."
"Yeah. Same for me."
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Bobby helped me pack up my things over the course of the next week. I didn't have much, so all of it fit inside of my car, whereas some of it fit on top of the car. Before I left I turned around and gave Bobby Mercer one last hug.
His muscular arms squeezed me tightly and I pulled away.
"Do you have my number?"
"Yeah."
"And my email?"
"Got it."
"Do you have my new address?"
Bobby held up a folded piece of yellow paper and smirked. "Right here."
I got behind the wheel of my car and Bobby shut the door behind me.
"Are you sure you want to leave?"
I gave him a sad smile. "I've been gone long enough, it's time I went back and faced my demons."
There was a pause before Bobby said, "You want to fuck one last time?"
"...Sure." I pulled the keys from the ignition and followed Bobby back into the house.
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I pulled up to my new house, on the outskirts of town, settled on the edge of the Sweetwater River.
It was a mill once, but it was renovated into a house sometime long ago. It was abandoned for eight years now and a bit run down. I bought it with the intention to fix it up.
It was brick and stone on the outside and two stories.
I got out of my blue 1974 Plymouth Barracuda and took out a box from the passenger seat. I reached into my pocket for my keys and unlocked the door to my new place.
The inside was dusty and the old owners left a couple pieces of furniture. There was an old couch, a table, and a vanity in the upstairs bedroom. The mill, though old, worked, so there was a constant water splashing noise, which was calming.
The box I held contained cleaning supplies. I took out a collapsible broom, mop, and bucket. I went over to the kitchen sink to fill the bucket up with water. The pipes in the house creaked and groaned at their sudden usage, and then a spurt of cold brown water exited from the faucet. After a moment, the brown faded away to clear, and steam rose from the water. Humming, I filled the bucket up with water and I took a bottle of Pine Sol into it.
It was quiet as I set about clearing the house of dust, cobwebs, and the occasional bug. By the time night fell, the house was lit up, and everything was clean. I sat on the ground and looked around, surrounded by the boxes I eventually took out from the car. I definitely needed to paint in here and fix some of the windows of their cracks. I had to polish the floor, and install a ceiling fan in each of the rooms.
Overall though, it was nice.
My stomach growled and I stood up, taking my keys with me. I got in my car and drove to Pop's. As I parked the car, my mind went back to my first memory. It took place here.
"Okay. I have one burger, with a side of fries. One ice cream sundae, no nuts. One coffee, black. And one peanut butter and chocolate milkshake, with a cherry on top." Pop smiled at our family as he placed our food in front of us.
"Enjoy." "Thank you!" We each said.
I dug into my sundae as my brother started to slurp his milkshake. My father ate his burger, while my mom sipped her coffee.
"What kind of milkshake is that?"
Our family looked up to see a small boy, holding his father's hand, staring at us with wide brown eyes.
Fred grinned. "It's peanut butter and chocolate, my favorite."
The boy looked up at his dad and smiled, "Dad, can I have one of those?"
The father rumpled te boy's hair and showed him a strained smile. "Of course, son."
The boy jumped up and down excitedly. "My name's Forsythe Pendleton Jones, but you can call me F.P.! What's your name?"
Fred sat up straight and laughed. "I'm Frederick, but everyone calls me Fred. Your name is F.P.? That's so neat! I've met A.J.'s and C.J.'s and D.W.'s but never an F.P. You must be really unique, huh?"
Our dad's chuckled at the antics of their sons. My dad stood up and shook hands with F.P.''s dad.
F.P. took no notice though. "Are you going to start Kindergarten, because I am!"
Fred nodded with a lot of enthusiasm. "Uh huh! I'm going to be in Miss Maxwell's class. That's Room 2.
"I'm going to be in her class too!"
F.P. stopped jumping and he looked over at me. "Why are there no nuts in your sundae?"
I stopped eating and looked at this intrusive young boy curiously. "Because I don't like nuts."
"Why not?"
I shrugged and went back to eating.
The boys kept on talking and eventually, my dad and F.P.'s made a playdate for F.P. and Fred. A playdate that would be the domino that started a reaction to what would be their friendship.
I was only four, but even then I knew that F.P. Jones was here to stay.
I got out of my car, making my way into the diner. I sat at one of the stools.
A lady I had never seen before, was wearing a yellow dress, stood in front of me and popped a piece of bubblegum. "What'll you be having, sweetheart?"
I was about to answer when a voice said, "Let me guess: A cheeseburger, onion rings with ranch, and a Coca-Cola. Am I right?"
I turned my barstool around and I beamed at the elderly man standing behind me.
"Pop!"
Pop chuckled deeply and opened his arms out to me. I hugged him and laughed. "Pop, you've gone grey!"
Pop laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Making burgers for over forty years will do that to a man."
I giggled. "It looks good. Very natural." Pop smiled and said, "Of course! A few years won't let the charm die down on this old man."
I grinned and sat back down as Pop made his way behind the counter. "Are you visiting?"
I shook my head. "Nah. I've come back. I bought the Mill."
Pop, who was busy filling up my glass with soda, stopped and stared at me with wide eyes. "So that was you who bought it?"
I nodded and he chuckled. He set my soda in front of me and said, "You always liked older things."
"Yeah, I do. Speaking of older things, did you get the spices I sent you for your birthday?"
Pop grinned and swung a rag onto his shoulder. "I did."
"And how did they come out?"
"Great! I used then for a specialty burger, for about a month. It was hit."
I took a sip of my soda and gulped it down. "That's great!"
Pop turned around took the cheeseburger and onion rings with a side of ranch from the chef, and set down in front of me.
"It's on the house, just this once. Welcome home, Aggie."
I smiled at the elderly man . "It's great to be back, Pop."
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After finishing my food and leaving Pop Tate a generous tip, I drove to my brother's house.
I took a deep breath before I exited the car, loudly shutting the door behind me.
I walked up to the door and knocmed three times.
A red haired teen answered, and looked at me confused. "Can I help you?"
I let out a nervous laugh. "Really, you don't remember me? Well, to be fair, the last time I saw you was Easter of 2008. You've grown up on me, Archie."
Archie's eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened wide in shock. "Aunt Aggie?!"
I spread my arms out wide and dropped them to my sides. "The one and only. I'd be disappointed if you forgot about me. After all, I remember you every holiday and birthday."
Archie opened the door a bit wide and let me in. 'I thought you lived in New York."
I rolled my eyes. "I can see how well my brother has been at getting the facts straight. I've been living in Detroit for the past several years."
"Archie, who are you talking to?"
Fred came into the room, drying his hands with a dish towel. He stopped suddenly and gave me the same wide eyed look his son had given me earlier. His eyebrows shot into his receded hairline and his mouth dropped open. If I wasn't so nervous, I'd laugh at the comedic timing of his reaction.
"Aggie, what are you doing here?"
I gave my big brother a sad smile. "What? No hug for your little sister?"
Fred shook his head, quickly hugged me, and stepped back. I sighed as he gave me a look that expected an answer.
"A couple months ago, I took a weekend trip to Chicago. I ran into Mary."
Archie crossed his arms and his eyebrows furrowed together. "Mom? That's where she is?"
I looked at my nephew. Fred took the hint and looked at Archie. "Son, why don't you go put the dishes away? I need to talk to your aunt privately."
Archie looked between us then said, "Alright. Have fun." Once he left and the sound of pots and pans clanging together filled the room, I resumed speaking.
I continued. "She told me that she lived there now. I asked her if you guys were with her, she said no. I put two and two together. I tried to call you, but you never answered."
Fred looked sheepish. "I shattered my phone at work. I had to get a new one with a new number."
"I bought the Mill. I'm moving back." I cut right to the chase.
Fred sudden became rigid. "Gee, do you think that's a good idea? Considering all that's happened?"
I put my palm out to stop him from talking. "I'm done with the past. He's moved on. I know."
Fred gave me a sad look. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"I already am. Let's leave the past where it belongs, 'Kay?"
"As long as you're sure. If it's any consolation, I don't even talk to him anymore. We had a falling out some years back. If being back here is too stressful or painful, I'll understand if you'd want to leave."
"I came here to help you with Archie and anything else you need. I'm fine, really!" The last part was a lie.
"Are you positive?"
"Absolutely." Another lie.
To those reading this story, I want you to know something.
I have a past connected to this town, like so many.
But unlike them, mine was riddled with betrayal, heartbreak, and death.
I knew about the darkness of Riverdale before the events of July 4th.
Let me formally introduce myself.
My name is Aggatha Jane Andrews.
Most people call me Aggie.
This is the story of how I became the scarred ex-wife of F.P. Jones.
I saw there wasn't many F.P./OC stories, so I decided to write one. Mark Wahlberg is the face claim for Bobby (who will play an important part in this story) and Amy Adams is the face claim for Aggie. Please review and let me know your thoughts!
