Title: The Hadrianus Apocrypha

Author: Indian Summer

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Almost two thousand years previous, Jesus appeared to a young man and told him that God would eventually take a wife. That time has come now. Joan/God.

Thanks: I'd like to thank my betas- MoonbeamDancer, Amber, Lindsay, and Rachael. Especially MoonbeamDancer, who encouraged me to write this fic, and nagged me when I fell behind. She's the truest Joan/God shipper of them all.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Joan of Arcadia," the characters within it, Christianity, or basically anything else. Hell, if you want to get technical, I don't even own this computer. My dad does. Don't sue.

If you're a religious zealot or easily disturbed, turn back now. This is blasphemy in its purest form.
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.Prologue
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Will Girardi glanced away from the television as his twenty-four year old daughter stumbled into the kitchen, shielding her tired eyes from the sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows.

"Too bright," Joan mumbled, making her way over to the cereal cabinet.

Will glanced at the wall clock and chuckled. "It's past 11."

Yawning, Joan responded, "I didn't even get to bed until like, five hours ago."

Will glanced over at the television before using the remote to turn it down, abandoning the news. "How is Luke?"

Joan temporarily ignored the question as she pulled a box of Special K from the cabinet. "He's good. You should call him."

Will sighed. "I don't think he wants to talk to us, Joan."

Shuffling over to the fridge, Joan shook her head. "He's not still mad. It just all got blown out of proportion. If you apologize to him-"

"Us?" Will interrupted defensively, "Apologize to Luke? We didn't do anything wrong. He made a stupid choice and-"

"It's too early to argue, Dad. But it wasn't stupid, it was romantic."

Will raised an eyebrow. "And what's the difference?"

Heaving a sigh, Joan shook her head. "I'm just saying. It's kind of stupid to lose your son over this. It's not like he broke the law or-" Joan froze, staring at the television. "I'll be upstairs," she murmured, before darting out of the room.

Will glanced over at the television and frowned. The frames were overlaid with a picture of some young man with dark hair and hazel eyes, smiling for the cameras. "Twenty-four and still shallow as a schoolgirl," Will muttered.
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Joan nearly tripped over her rug as she ran into her room, lurching headlong onto her bed and grabbing the remote off her nightstand in one fluid motion. She flipped on the TV.

"-man found a papyrus scroll estimated to have been written in the first century AD. The local man, Aidan Miller, was on a youth expedition in Egypt, when he stumbled across the document, which had been hidden in a rock by-"

Joan swore under her breath as they showed a clip of the 'local man,' immediately recognizing him as the brown-haired, corduroy jacket wearing form of God. "Nuh-uh."

"-the document, written in Latin, is currently being translated, but it seems to consist of wedding plans-"

"God plays archaeologist now?" Joan voiced to no one in particular, and nearly jumped off the bed when there was a reply from behind her.

"I'm multifunctional," she heard as she spun around.

"Apparently, Aidan," she responded without missing a beat, raising an eyebrow. "So, wedding plans, huh? 'Wonder where you came up with that idea."

God smiled indulgently, looking over at Joan. "When are you going to understand that what I'm telling you is the truth?"

Joan sighed. "Listen, when I signed on to be your..." Joan gestured around wildly, "helper, or whatever, I didn't sign on for this," she hissed. "I signed on to be your conduit, not your- whatever."

"You make it sound like it's a dirty word, Joan. It's your destiny."

Joan looked around uncomfortably, as if she were expecting her father to come upstairs any moment. "Look, you've been telling me this for three years so far, and the fact that the first time I was so drunk I didn't know what I was doing..."

"You know, alcohol really gets a bad rap. Used excessively, it is a vice, sure. But every once in a while, you need your inhibitions lowered. It makes you live much more... naturally."

"That was not natural. That was you having some kind of sick fun." Joan crossed her arms over her chest.

"We've gone over this, Joan. It's perfectly natural to be attracted to me."

"God, it's not the attraction that gets to me. It's the fact that you fucking sprang the fact that I'm supposed to be your wife on me. God isn't supposed to have a wife!"

God smirked, shaking his head. "That's where you're wrong, Joan. I wasn't supposed to have a wife. Past tense. That's because the woman I'm supposed to take as my wife wasn't supposed to exist until the 'turn of the millennium."

"I still don't believe any of this. I mean, if we were to... do that... wouldn't that like, make me a goddess?"

God nodded his confirmation. "Yes. Yes it would. And it will, Joan."

"What happened to free will?"

God smiled. "It exists. The problem with free will, though, Joan, is that you need to have the will to actually follow through. And I'm pretty sure you've already proven you don't have the will to resist me."

Joan groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "God, you're such a jackass."
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