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Alice's life is a lot like the weather. When it rains, it fucking pours.
And there is absolutely nothing she can do about. When the clouds roll in, there is no use in wishing it away—it's raining and it's shit—and pretending that it isn’t won’t make the rain go away.
Alice knows how to handle the weather. She grabs her umbrella and her rainboots and she makes do until the sun finally comes out.
It always comes out. Even the faintest of sun rays can appear in gloomy convent halls and sterile maternity wards.
Fast forward a few decades, and Alice Smith is now Alice Cooper. She got out of the Southside, but she didn’t completely get rid of the emptiness that sneaks its way into her heart.
It doesn't phase her. She’s had years of practice. This is just what life it like. There are ups and there are downs. Sometimes it’s sunny, sometimes it rains. And on the rare occasion the sky does both at once.
That’s just the way it is.
All she can do is adapt to make it through.
But when the storm is too strong, the wind flips her umbrella upside down. The river runs high, and her rubber boots are worn and tattered leaving her soaked to the bone.
She’s never seen so much rain.
Her daughters are committing all the same mistakes she made at their age. Her marriage finally implodes, her husband goes on a murder spree. Then an imposter named Chic breaks her fragile heart.
Alice’s tears won’t stop falling. She’s just so tired.
Right when she thinks it might be too much, the clouds begin to clear...
Polly introduces her to Edgar and Alice finds a new family. He helps her realize that she can’t let her trauma define her.
But she can't sleep. Every time she closes her eyes, she feels Hal’s hands around her neck, or the pungent smell of bleach on her kitchen floors, or the hope she shattered when she unknowingly turned her son away.
It's better to be awake. It's better not to dream.
(Besides, she's always done her best writing at 4 am in a booth at Pop's).
-
It starts slowly.
-
The summer heat extends well into October and Alice takes advantage of the above average temperatures and bright blue skies.
She jumps head first into the Farm because Alice never does anything half assed. They teach her how to be in tune with herself and with nature. Mindfulness is key.
She rids her body of toxins and takes her St John’s Wort as directed.
And it must be helping with her funk because the fog has lifted, and she’s got a million ideas buzzing around in her head. So much potential, so little time to bring it all to life.
And she’s horny. So damn horny.
One booty call becomes two… and soon Alice is visiting FP almost every day.
FP doesn’t seem to mind when she shows up at his door. He’s always been very good at giving her what she needs.
“Jesus, Alice. It’s almost like we didn’t do already do this twice this morning.”
She doesn’t care what he thinks. She just needs him to help her cum before she bursts.
-
Alice easily drops over a grand on healing crystals, worry stones, essential oils, a new wardrobe... She even invests in a deck of tarot cards she never ends up using. She commits to veganism for 6 hours before remembering she really likes eggs and wouldn’t it be fun to have her own chickens?
She calls FP to measure out her backyard but ends up jumping his bones instead, her dreams of a chicken coop long forgotten.
When Edgar suggests acquiring the Sisters of Quiet Mercy for the Farm, it seems like a fucking genius idea. Alice has Blossom blood money burning a hole in her bank account so she might as well bid on the property.
For the first time in a long time, Alice has faith again. Even if it is a little blind.
-
One day, Betty comes home with accusations and demanding explanations.
“You gave away my tuition fund!” Betty cries, exasperated that her mother doesn’t see the problem.
Unbeknownst to Betty, Alice is averaging three hours of sleep a night, and she’s running on impulsivity instead of reason.
The sun is beaming down on her and she’s running out of sunscreen. Alice doesn’t care. She’s hellbent on enjoying this Indian Summer and clear skies. She’s got a new job, new friends, a new purpose in life.
Alice has never felt so free . Nothing can bring her down.
-
A few hours after she texts FP that she got the broadcasting job, flashing lights pull into her driveway. Alice’s heart is thumping—not because of nerves—because every cell in her body is restless. She feels like she’s about to jump out of her skin.
She flings the door open and her demands for an explanation die on her lips. FP is on her doorstep dressed like an officer of the law . He keeps his head bent down and a hat dramatically covering his face and self-satisfied smirk.
“FP?”
“It’s Sheriff Jones now, Alice,” he says proudly. Nothing about this makes any sense, but when has anything about their town made sense? Riverdale is in a near-constant state of chaos. “We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
It’s ridiculous what the Sheriff uniform does to her. It makes FP looks especially delicious and Alice can’t stop thinking of all the things she wants him to do to her. Even when she’s in the midst of interviewing Hermione following the attack on Hiram, Alice finds her mind drifting towards his handcuffs.
After Hermione finishes her interview and leaves FP’s office, Alice pounces. Her hands fumble with his belt as she presses sloppy kisses on his lips.
“Alice, what the hell are you doing?” he asks against her mouth.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps. “Even you’re not that dense.”
“Jesus, Alice, slow down,” FP catches her hand, stopping her frenzied ministrations. “We can’t have sex in my office.”
“A quick BJ then?”
“Alice—”
“Don’t you want me, FP?”
“Of course I—”
“Then what’s the problem? I’m already soaking wet—”
“I’m at work,” FP replies gruffly. “I’m not going to screw up on Week 1 because I couldn’t keep it in my pants.”
Alice takes a step back. “So I’m a slut now?”
“What? No—”
“Save it, FP. I’ll get my things and get myself off. I’m better at it than you anyway.”
(That last part is a lie.)
That night, she invites herself over to his trailer, her earlier frustrations with FP replaced with new ones. He furrows his brows quizzically when he sees her waiting on his front steps.
“What—”
“Is Jughead home?” she asks impatiently.
“No—”
“FP, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s making me crazy,” Alice blurts. She’s been trying to not think about his hands, his mouth, the way he moans her name. But somehow her mind always circles back to him.
For better or for worse, she needs him.
FP kisses her then and pulls her into his trailer just like she knew he would.
-
Later, when Alice is in the kitchen putting the noise in her head onto paper, she hears Betty come in from wherever she’s been.
“I found out what’s been causing the seizures,” Betty says solemnly from the doorway. “Turns out Claudius Blossom was poisoning the town’s water supply with fizzle rocks.”
Alice doesn’t look up from her notebook. She needs to get it all out before the words disappear forever.
“Fizzle rocks…” Alice mutters . There’s something right there, on the tip of her brain... “Mocks, box, locks… Lochness! Ohhhhhhhhh,” her eyes light up as a brilliant idea pops into her head. She can't believe it hadn't occurred to her before. “Betty, let’s go to Scotland!”
“Are you kidding me? We can’t go to Scotland ,” Betty stares at her mother agape. “Did you not hear what I just told you?”
“Of course I heard you. ‘Something-something water supply poisoned, ’” Alice paraphrases to prove her point. She can barely contain herself. “Let me ask you this. Betty, why are we even still in Riverdale? There is nothing keeping us here. We both could use the vacation.”
“I’ve got school! And you just started a new job!” Betty cries, exasperated before taking a deep breath. “Never mind. I’m not getting into this with you right now. I just wanted to tell you about the water as a courtesy . Not that you’d understand what that means.”
Betty’s warning does not go unheeded. Alice loads up her car with bottled water from every general store in Rockland County. The other members of the Farm turn their nose at her reckless use of plastics, especially given that the water supply is deemed safe for consumption again.
Alice still doesn’t trust it. She learned a long time ago that the only person she can count on is herself.
-
Soon Alice can’t remember why she ever slept in the first place. 24 hours is not enough time in a day, and spending a third of it sleeping is a travesty.
Her world is spinning faster and faster and she’s loving the ride. She follows her gut down the old county road, and she notices a familiar cruiser following her.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” she says sweetly as she rolls down her window. She’ll never get over FP in uniform.
He leans into her car. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“No,” Alice replies with a pout. “Are you going to punish me, Sheriff? I’ve been such a bad girl.”
“Alice, this isn’t a joke,” FP furrows his brow and Alice feels the familiar butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Who would have known that Authoritative FP would be so damn sexy?
“That’s too bad… “ Alice sighs. “I deserve a good spanking.”
“What the hell has gotten into you?” FP swallows, gathering his thoughts before firmly pressing on. “You were driving like a maniac! You can’t just recklessly shoot down the county roads without a care in the world. You know how dangerous it is with all the twists and turns… and the animals! There are deer this time of year! Alice, you’ve got to be more careful.”
“Come on, FP. I wasn’t going that fast!”
“30 over the speed limit is considered that fast,” he pulls out a pen.
“Are you seriously going to ticket me? What the hell, FP?”
She’s not mad. She’s fucking livid and she's struggling to form words fast enough to keep up with her runaway thoughts.
“Maybe then you’ll get a clue,” he says gruffly he tears off the ticket. “Alice, your actions have consequences. I’m just doing my job.”
“I can’t believe you,” her knuckles turn white as they she tightens her grip on her steering wheel. “If I had known that there would be no perks to fucking the Sheriff, I wouldn’t have bothered!”
FP’s eyes flash dangerously. “You don’t mean that.”
“Bite me.”
FP spends the next few days attached to his phone, waiting for a call, a text, or even an irate knock on his door.
Anything.
It doesn't come.
-
It’s hard for Betty not to notice that the normally immaculate living room is in shambles. Cases upon cases of water bottles stacked along the wall, scraps of paper haphazard on the coffee table, healing crystals gathering dust in the corner, and her mother playing a keyboard in the dining room.
“Betty!” Alice smiles widely. Her greasy hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. “I found my old keyboard in the basement! Check it out!”
“Why aren’t you at work?” Betty interrupts.
“Didn’t I tell you? I quit!” Alice exclaims brightly.
“You… quit?” Betty repeats as though it will help her understand. “ Why? ”
“It was boring and I’ve got better things to do,” Alice shrugs.
Betty tries to make sense of her mother. She’s spent sixteen years trying and she’s more confused than ever. As far back as Betty can remember, her mother has had quick temper and very reactive moods.
Alice has always been a lot, but lately she’s been… more .
Somehow faster. More intense.
Had Alice been hiding her raging fire under her Northside pastels? Or is this the Farm’s influence?
Betty doesn’t get it. She wants to, and she tries to get her mom to talk to her. But Betty can’t get a word in edgewise before her mother is showcasing the songs she’s been writing.
Betty watches, unsure of how to process the truly terrible chords and cringe-worthy lyrics.
She doesn’t recognize this woman. What happened to her orange-juice pouring, crocheting, scrapbooking helicopter mom?
Later, in the bunker, wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms, Betty searches for the tiniest shred of comfort.
“First my mom stole my college fund, and now she’s writing music . It’s gotta be the Farm. There’s no other explanation,” she confesses into his chest. “Juggie, I don’t know what else to do.”
“You’ve got to put yourself first. Betty, it’s not your job to parent your mom,” Jughead presses a soft kiss to her crown. “You can't keep setting yourself on fire to keep others warm."
The logical part of her brain knows Jughead is right. Last summer, she burnt herself out trying to bury her own pain. Then there was the whole thing with Archie’s wrongful imprisonment, the spread of Griffins and Gargoyles, the seizure epidemic, SAT prep… and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
Maybe it is time to take care of herself.
“I just miss how she used to be before she was brainwashed,” Betty sighs. “Can we stay here tonight? I don’t want to see her right now.”
“We can stay for as long as you need.”
-
When Alice finds out Betty has been visiting Hal in prison, something inside her snaps.
What do Betty and Hal even have to talk about?
(You. They must be talking about You.)
They are watching, laughing from the sidelines, judging every decision she’s ever made.
If her family can forsake her, what does that mean about the rest of the town?
-
Hush little baby, don't say a word.
The walls have ears, you will be heard.
And don’t let the walls hear you cry,
They’re just gonna leave you high and dry.
-
She's not wrong; people do notice her.
Archie Andrews, another soul the Sandman has forsaken, sees the glow of the Coopers’ living room illuminating the night sky while the rest of the town slumbers. Pop Tate, a seasoned professional, struggles to keep up with as Alice rushes through an incomprehensible takeout order. Penelope Blossom, who she’s never gotten along with, throws her out of the Maple Club because she caters exclusively to depraved men.
FP does not allow himself to notice the blonde which is made easy due to the fact that he hasn’t seen or heard from Alice since he gave her a speeding ticket. If Alice wants to give him the silent treatment, so be it. He’s too busy being the new Sheriff to play her games.
It’s only when Tom Keller stops by the station that the alarm bells begin ringing in his head.
“Have you seen Alice lately?”
“No,” FP tenses. “Why?”
“I just saw her at Pop’s. She seemed… off…She was really disjointed. Talking a mile a minute, really twitchy…” Keller trails off.
“Are you telling me that Alice Cooper was high? At Pop’s?” FP pushes. “On what? Fizzle rocks? Jingle-jangle? Both?”
Keller shakes his head. “I’ve seen enough on the streets to know what fizzle rocks and jingle-jangle looks like. That wasn’t it. It’s something else. Something new.”
-
Alice comes home, takeout bags in hand, to find Polly accompanied by a group of half a dozen women sitting in her living room.
“Polly?” Alice places her bag on the coffee table. “What’s going on?”
“Hello, Alice. We’ve come to talk,” Evelyn stands, takes Alice’s hands and guides her to the couch. “We’ve noticed a change within you.”
“I have never felt better.”
“Please, Mom. We just want to help,” Polly pleads. “Be honest with us; be honest with yourself.
The other women nod in agreement.
“Are you poisoning your body with drugs?”
Are they fucking kidding? She has never been more enlightenment and apparently that makes her look like a tweaker.
“Is this an intervention?” she asks bitterly.
They’re just like everybody else. Betty had been right about the Farm this whole time. It’s pure evil. How could she have missed all the signs?
“Mom—”
“What the hell am I supposed say? You lot have already made up your minds about me! I can’t believe you’d go behind my back like that,” Alice points an accusatory finger at her daughter. “Stop trying to cage me in! I’m a free women! This bird is gonna to fly like the butterfly I have blossomed into!”
She jumps to her feet and rushes to the door.
Polly races after her. “Mom, where are you going?”
Alice doesn’t have an answer. She gets into her stationwagon and drives.
-
One, two, three, four
Don’t need them no more.
Five, six, seven, eight
Not going to take their bait.
-
She’s halfway to Centreville when she realizes they can triangulate her position using her cell phone.
She throws it out the window.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
They are all out
to get you.
-
"Ms Cooper is missing,” Jughead’s rushed words crackle in FP’s ear. His heart stops beating.
“She ran away after Polly and her Farm friends tried to stage some sort of intervention. Nobody has heard from her since.”
The second Jughead hangs up, FP is on the phone with every neighbouring police department. Somehow he manages to keep his voice steady while his neurons are firing blame.
Should have seen this coming. Should have been there for her. Should never have let her pull away.
They need to find her soon, before the weather changes. The weatherman is calling for below-freezing temperatures.
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.
-
Two torturous days later, he gets the call from the Glendale Police Department. Alice has been located and admitted to the hospital—standard procedure for anybody who has suffered exposure to the elements.
Only she doesn’t stop shaking even though she’s warm again and her words are jumbled and she can't take it anymore so she tries to run away when the nurse starts asking too many questions.
Her escape plan is quickly thwarted. They take away her shoelaces and the only jewelry she’s allowed is the paper bracelet on her arm. Like Icarus before her, she flew too close to the sun.
Dr Patel tells her she has bipolar disorder. Yet, if she is as sick as he says she is, why does she still feel fine?
They give her some pills that don’t really do much for her insomnia.
“Give it time,” the nurses say.
Whatever is in the cocktail they give her twice daily slows her brain. She’s no longer out of breath from chasing her thoughts, and she’s starting to realize all the damage that she’s caused.
For whatever reason, Polly visits when she can—even allowing her children in her presence—while Betty chooses to come by every day after school. She sits at the edge of the bed, smiling and nodding as she tiptoes around eggshells.
“You know you don’t have to come every day,” Alice says. She wouldn’t blame her daughter—especially not after she blew Betty’s college fund.
“I know. I want to,” Betty replies. “You’re my mom.”
“Is that a good enough reason?” Alice closes her eyes. “Betty, my brain is broken.”
“It’s not broken.”
“But it is!” she snaps. “I had a manic episode and it was a doozy. Sane people don’t have manic episodes. ”
Betty moves next to her, and puts her head on her mother's shoulder. “You’re not crazy, mom. You’ve got bipolar disorder.”
“Which means that even though I’ll be on medication for the rest of my life, something like this can happen again!”
“Dr Patel says that with the right treatment your diagnosis is totally manageable,” Betty reminds her.
“Dr Patel also says that it might be hereditary,” Alice points out. “Oh, Betty, what if I gave it to you or Polly?”
What if she gave it to Charles?
“Mom, listen to me. It’s not your fault. There are so many other factors that play into mental health. Who knows—we might not even have it!”
“I don't deserve you,” Alice wipes a rogue tear. “I'm truly sorry for everything I put you through.”
“I'm sorry too. I should have helped sooner.”
That is the moment Alice's heart breaks.
-
She doesn't think FP will ever want to see her again, not after the way she treated him.
But he does show up in her hospital room with a teddy bear, some colouring books, and a takeout bag from Pop’s. She has known him her entire life and yet, she is still constantly underestimating him.
“The lady at the store said colouring books are very therapeutic so I grabbed a few—”
“Why are you being nice to me?” she finally blurts.
FP shrugs as he pulls out her burger before passing it to her. “I know what it's like hard to put your life back together after destroying it with a series of bad decisions.”
She doesn't know what to say so she pulls him into a vice hug and promises herself that she will never let him go.
“I'm so sorry, FP,” she murmurs into his chest.
“Hey, it's okay,” he wraps his arms around her. “It's not your fault your brain malfunctioned.”
She snorts. That's certainly one way of putting it “Are we going to be okay?”
“Of course,” he kisses the top of her head. “Alice, we went almost 25 years without speaking. I don't think I could ever go back to that.”
“Me neither."
-
Almost a month later, she gets the all clear. She has new prescriptions and more referrals to therapists than she knows how to handle.
The day she gets out, it rains. Betty and Jughead wait in the car, while FP escorts her to to the passenger side. He holds an umbrella over, the steady rhythm of the rain beating upon the black fabric. Alice reaches for his fingers around the curved wooden handle and FP gives her a small smile in return. For the first time since this whole mess started, she thinks she might be okay.
Because there, in the hospital parking lot, with FP behind her holding an umbrella, Alice is still standing.