Thank You, For Everything

Evidence

Alice slammed the front door, she didn't care if it disturbed the neighbours. She needed to think straight and forget what just happened. She threw her coat on the dining table and went to do the same to her bag. Alice froze. Her bag. She didn't have it on her. Alice swore under her breath, it must be at FP's, and there was no way she was going back there now. Not after that kiss. As she saw Hal out of the corner of her eye her body slumped. Alice didn't want to be dealing with any of Hal's shit right now. Nor could she be bothered to. She walked into the kitchen where her husband was standing and audibly sighed, hoping he would catch the hint that she didn't want to talk to him. Hal tracked Alice as she walked around the kitchen and poured herself a glass of red wine. She saw the phone on the island the moment she entered the kitchen, and she knew Hal was waiting for her to comment on it. Alice purposely stayed silent and ignored him while she made herself some toast. The longer she took to eat the toast, the longer she had to make up an excuse about the phone. Alice's first thought was that the phone belonged to a friend of Chic's, but Chic hadn't had anybody over as far as Alice knew, and Betty's friends never let their phones out of their sight. Alice poured another glass of wine when she realised who the phone belonged to. She looked at the phone and wondered how, after cleaning the kitchen and dining room, she missed the shady guy's phone. It had been in the house for over two weeks, and not once had she seen it.

Alice turned towards Hal with a hand on her hip, "what, Hal?"

"I found this phone on the floor, Alice. Who's phone is it?" Hal picked up the phone and unlocked it. Alice needed to think fast.

"It must be Chic's. No one else had been here," Alice took the phone from Hal's hand and put it on the table. She turned around and crossed her arms when Hal walked up behind her.

"I want to know what's going on in this house, so I'm coming home. It still reeks of bleach, and I don't believe for a second you spilled tomato soup," Hal then closed the distance between them so that they were almost touching, and he looked down at his wife, "what are you hiding, Alice?"

Alice narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to reply but a knock at the door interrupted her. She turned away from Hal and went to answer the front door, thanking whoever it was. She had no idea what she was going to say to Hal; her silence would have given it all away and Hal would've called the police. Alice looked behind her at Hal, who simply raised an eyebrow. She turned again and gulped. What if he had already called the police? Her eyes went wide when she looked through the peephole and saw FP holding a grey bag. Alice sighed as the opened the door and slipped out before Hal could see their unexpected visitor. She closed the door, held it shut, and stood in front of the peephole in case Hal decided he wanted to see first-hand who was at the door. Another person she wanted to avoid at all costs. She needed time to get over what she did; what she instigated. Alice wanted to forget the kiss ever happened and never think of it again. But she couldn't. she saw FP's eyes lit up at the sight of her and she could only think of one thing: she liked the kiss. Loved it, even. Alice's thoughts flashed to him kissing her collarbone, holding her face, lifting her up against the door, and to how much pleasure it gave her... Alice had to steady her breathing just looking at him. She'd never felt that way kissing Hal. It took all of Alice's strength not to kiss him right there and then.

"You, uh, left this at mine," FP handed Alice the bag, which she hastily took from him, "Alice- "

Alice pulled her hand up to her chest and leaned away from him, "you need to leave," she watched as FP turned around and headed towards his truck. Alice wanted to kiss him again, she wanted to feel his lips on her skin and feel out of breath from the sheer thrill of touching him.

When she entered the house, Hal was stood in the hallway with his arms crossed. Alice had the two minutes she was outside to think of a lie, but she didn't. she was too distracted by FP, by that damn kiss. Alice forced those thoughts from her mind when she heard Hal speaking to her.

"Who was at the door?" Hal asked. He already knew, of course; Alice was sure he was listening in.

"FP," his name rolled from her lips so perfectly. Shit, it just slipped out. Alice was going to lie, say it was Jughead looking for Betty, but she said FP's name so naturally. And it just felt so... right.

"He gave you your bag, then? You didn't have it just now," Hal cocked an eyebrow. Damn that observant bastard. Alice sighed at him and crossed her arms. She went to walk away from him, to go bed and get some sleep, but Hal grabbed her arm before she could set a foot on the stairs, "you went over FP's?"

"I was looking for Betty," lie, "she wouldn't answer my calls," lie, Alice hadn't called Betty at all. She shifted on her feet to lean on one leg, "FP invited me in for a coffee and I said yes," another lie.

Hal took Alice's left hand in his, "Alice. I don't want you associating- "

Alice ripped her hand from his, "oh my god, Hal. FP is Jughead's father, I am trying to be civil with him. I went in for a coffee. C-O-F-F-E-E. Coffee."

Hal's face was blank. He stepped away from her and headed up the stairs, "sure, Alice."

Alice sat at the table as she heard hers' and her husband's bedroom door close. She could tell Hal thought she had cheated on him. He was right. She had. Alice put her head in her hands and groaned. How many lies was she going to tell? She had trusted Hal with everything in the past, but now... she didn't know what to do: there was the secret of the murder she, Betty, Chic, Jughead, and FP were keeping; and now, both her and FP had to keep their moment of intimacy from their kids and Hal. Alice, being sure the Black Hood never left, was certain she'd be a prime target of his now. Covering up a murder and adultery? She was the town's number one sinner. Expect for Hiram Lodge, and Penelope Blossom, maybe. As far as everyone was concerned, Alice had never, and will never, be unfaithful to her husband. But, she couldn't quite shake the thoughts of her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, and her head buried in his shoulder. She wondered what would've happened if she never told him to stop. Would he have taken her right there against the door? Or would he have kissed her all the way to his bedroom? Alice rubbed her face with her hands, which were now wet. She hadn't realised she was crying.

"Stop, stop, stop. Stop it, stop it," she whispered to herself. Alice saw the phone through a gap between her fingers and, on impulse, decided to look through it. She found it strange that it had no password, but the thought completely left her mind when she saw the man's contacts: Alice's heart shattered. She let out a sob, turned the phone off and dropped it in her bag to dispose of later. Daughter. Mom. Daughter. Mom. The names kept repeating themselves in her thoughts. She never considered him having a family. He was a drug dealer, that's all she saw. When Betty mentioned a possible family, she brushed it off. The less she cared, the better. Now...

Alice downed the remaining wine in her glass from earlier with tears streaming down her face. She stood up, both breath and body shaking. Alice didn't know how long she was leaning against the table, trying to catch her breath, to think of something, anything else. Hell, thinking about the adultery she committed would be better than this. She wanted to be sick. She held the glass on the table for a minute before picking it up and walking into the kitchen to pour herself another glass. Heaven knows she needed it. She wanted to forget everything that had happened in the last day. Grabbing FP's shirt, him backing her against the door, unbuttoning her silk blouse. Alice hastily grabbed the wine bottle and tried to pour herself another glass to down, but her hands were shaky and she spilled wine all over the glass, her shirt, and the bottle. Not a second later, the bottle spilled out of Alice's hand and smashed on the kitchen floor; she gasped and dropped the glass too. Her hand covered her mouth as she left out a small sob. Alice knelt on the floor, wet with tears and wine, and attempted to clean up the mess she had made. Blood mixed with wine as Alice cut her hands on the shattered glass, she nearly lay on the floor in pain, in exhaustion, but she needed to clean the mess she had made. The mess she always makes. Once the floor was clean, Alice cleaned her cuts, hands still shaking. She sat at the table to collect herself and get her thoughts straight. Before she knew it, her tear stained face was on the dining table, her aching eyes had shut, and she was unconscious.