IN RECOVERY

(Author's Note: For those who have read my other stories on this site, this one is different. It is not part of an imaginary third season, but an alternate version of part of season 2, starting with "Only Connect". I will continue on "JOAN OF ITALIA" along with this story. There will be no contradictions between this story and my Season 3 stories, at least not deliberate ones. They can be regarded as part of the same "history".)

(New Note: I made some changes in the week of May 22, 2008, mainly splitting the unwieldy chapter 3 into two, but also offering a stronger reason as to why God would stay "silent" for months)

(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with JOAN. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)

Chapter 1 Disconnected

(Author's Note: Fans who have seen "Only Connect" will recognize this chapter as the opening scene of the episode, with Joan's thoughts added in.)

Shortly before school was to start, Joan finally got permission to go to the park on her own. Even then her father might have instructed one of the park security staff to keep an eye on her, but she didn't care as long as it was unobtrusive. She had been under observation of various types for months.

On the western side of the park, facing the housing projects, she found the playground where she had once played Double Dutch with Casper and her friends. Or had she? That memory was tangled up with her delusion, that she had been going on silly missions for strangers that she thought were messages from God. Casper wasn't around anymore, was she? Had she ever existed?

Joan thought of asking her mother, who had played a role in that memory, if there really had been a girl named Caspar, but decided against it. "They already think you're crazy, Jojo," Judith had once told her. "Don't say anything that will make them think you're crazier."

So instead Joan decided to go to a different part of the park. On the north end was a bridle path, where people rode horses, either their own or mounts rented from the stables across the street. And that sparked another memory, more vivid because unambiguous, and associated with the camp itself.

During the second weekend they had bussed the girls for the day to an equestrian camp in the same area. The counselors felt that the horses had a calming effect on humans. Even the girls who had no experience riding might get some introductory lessons.

They were about halfway from the bus to the stables when they caught a whiff of horse dung. Some of the girls complained or joked about it, but the effect on Joan was to send her into a panic attack, something that would undoubtedly lead to merciless teasing later. ("I'm OK -- you're crazy"). But one of the biggest girls seemed to notice Joan's problem, and contrived some excuse for Joan and herself to return to the bus before Joan attracted too much attention.

By the time she reached the bus Joan had figured out what brought the attack on. A few months before, while she was briefly working for the school annual, a junior girl had won an equestrian competition. Of course the yearbook wanted pictures, and of course the girl wanted to pose with her pet. So Joan had gone out to the girl's house, which had a large backyard where her horse grazed and exercised. Joan was wearing shorts that day, and she thought little of it when she felt a sting on her leg.

"But it turned out to be a tick, and infected," she explained to the Counselor. "I came down with the Lyme Disease. So when I smelled the horse-doodoo, it all came back." She winced at the baby-talk word; somehow the camp environment encouraged her to act like a child minded by adults. But this Counselor was encouraging. "That stable was filthy."

"Very good self-diagnosis, Girardi," said the Counselor. "But a well-kept stable wouldn't have harbored ticks. Your friends were just careless. The camp here has dealt with dozens of horses with no problem."

"So it's a phobia. I can't help that."

There was the wrong thing to say to a psychologist. "But you can. By exposing yourself to the source of your fear--"

"Please don't make me deal with a horse right now! Today is supposed to be fun. Let me just sit here on the bus until everybody gets back."

"Well -- all right. But we will make a note."

"I'll stay with her," said the other girl.

Joan turned to the bigger girl who had accompanied her. She was dressed, not just in jeans like Joan and the others, but riding togs. Either she had brought them herself or had had them sent especially for today; either way it meant she had been looking forward to horseback riding. "Thanks for helping out, but don't let me keep you."

"No s--," she said, startling Joan slightly. Joan used coarse language when she was angry or annoyed, but using it as a polite reply struck her as odd. " I insist. Otherwise you'll be alone for hours."

"I don't even know your name."

The other smiled. "My name is Judith."

It had been intended to make the horse visits a bi-weekly thing, but it didn't work out. The equestrian camp wasn't used to dealing with disturbed teenagers. Joan learned later that one traumatized girl, once in the saddle, seemed to think she was Xena the Warrior Princess and started charging at the other girls, terrifying them and spooking the horses. One girl, a novice, tried to flee on her own horse and nearly fell off. The horse camp decided that they didn't want to deal with possible accidents and liability, and cancelled the future visits. So Joan's horse phobia went uncured, for the absence of any horses to test it with. That was fine with her. She just avoided the bridle path like the plague, and went to the placid southeastern corner of the park, with the shady trees and benches.

"Jane?" called a familiar voice.

She had agreed to meet Adam here. Indeed, the knowledge that Adam would be here to watch over Joan was probably what persuaded her parents to let her come "alone" in the first place. But now the voice, even though saying a single word, aroused vivid memories, in what one of the counselors had called the Proust Effect. She had told Adam about the very delusions that she now wanted to forget. His skepticism was what had caused her to realize how crazy she was. She couldn't deal with this right now, she needed things calm. And so, before Adam could launch into conversation, Joan stated "I made this for you" and held up the lamp.

Adam's expression said everything. He would never utter words to hurt Joan, but he was an instinctive artist, and she could see that by his standards her lamp was crap. Hastily she added: "They had me work in arts and crafts class. Very good therapy for crazy people--". So there it was, the C-word.

"You're not crazy, Jane."

"Not anymore."

Adam made a heroic effort to change the subject, to talk about HIS summer. But unfortunately it seemed to have been utterly boring: one hotel task after another, including unclogging toilets. "I got your letters, Jane," he said, finally hitting on something interesting. "They weren't very many of them--"

"Yeah. They had us keeping a journal everyday, and that used up all my writing skills. I got real sick of myself, trying to tell if I was still crazy."

"So this wasn't just an ordinary summer camp?"

"Gentle Acres? No. Definitely a crazy camp." Joan started talking about Darlene, her original roommate, with her compulsive pulling of her hair. Joan was NOT ready to talk about Judith yet. She started parodying the counselor with all the euphemisms for craziness. When she ended with the words "impaired perception", that seemed to give Adam an idea, or at least a cue for something that had already planned to do.

"I've been thinking about that, Jane," he said, pulling some books out of his knapsack. "You're not the only person who thought she was having visions of God--"

"ADAM!" Joan said in horror, looking around to make sure nobody had overheard. "You're the only one who knows about this. Everybody else in Arcadia just thinks I 'saw people'." Even the psychologist to whom she had described her hallucinations kept quiet about the God side, simply telling her family that she had had hallucinations and needed some treatment.

"But I've been reading up this summer--"

Poor Adam, thinking something must be real if he saw it in print. Joan had worked in a bookstore and knew that there were a lot of weird books floating around. "Adam. Please don't bring this up again. I'm normal now. We've got to be on the same page about this, if we're to stay a couple."

"Well--" said Adam, torn between two forms of loyalty to his Jane. "If you say so, Jane."

"I gotta go," Joan said hastily before he could argue again. She looked back at him as she walked away, and as a result nearly collided with a kid who was skateboarding down the paved path.

"Hey, watch it, Jane!" said the kid.

Joan stood in shock. Her hallucinations always started with some stranger addressing her by name. After weeks of being "clean", was she starting to have them again?

But the boy had said "Jane", not "Joan". He must have heard Adam say that name a few seconds earlier. Just a rude kid.

You gotta pull yourself together, Joan thought to herself. You're in control of your life now, not some deity that doesn't exist. Figure out how you're going to manage your life, and stick with it.

There had to be a way.

TBC