Title: Cruelty's Pity
Author: Indian Summer
Date Published: 22.02.2005
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, plot, or anything else related to "Joan of Arcadia," and the quote at the beginning is from Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Dart, which all of you should read.
Author's Note: Thank you to my betas- Payton Tyler, Lys, and Amber.
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"When Love cast me out, it was Cruelty who took pity upon me."
Had she been asked when she'd lost her footing in life, when she'd been flung headlong into this dark abyss of nullity, when her world had flipped upside down and left the orbit, hurtling around and around in fumbling circles...
Well, she wouldn't have been able to answer. It was a gradual thing, she supposed, like the decreasing of Earth's magnetic fields every few hundred thousand years until the poles flipped. Even looking back, though, she couldn't analyze the past any better than she'd tried to the day everything was ruined. She couldn't point to a day on the calendar fifteen years previous and say "This is the day I realized it wasn't going to work," or point to a holiday and have the realization sink in that there was a reason it hadn't been fun.
To her, it just was. The days and the nights blended together, and there was a before and after, but no 'between.'
There were the days where she used to consider herself happy, but now she found herself naive. Those were the days when she'd return home to him and feel like the luckiest woman in the world that there'd be dinner waiting on a table and a man who wanted to share his life with her.
There were the days where she was miserable. Those were the days after she arrived home from work an hour early and sat idle in her car as she watched him kiss his lab partner on the front steps of their home, the pale yellow paint she'd chosen a backdrop for their affair.
Those were the days she wondered if he'd ruined her for other men, if she'd ever believe in a little four letter word like love again.
She hadn't known then, though, that if Luke Girardi had ruined her for other men, Brett Jamison would be the final blow.
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Luke got the phone call at ten minutes to midnight, right as he was stepping out of the shower. If it had been so much as a few minutes earlier or a few minutes later, he would've been either in the shower or drying his hair. He never would've known the phone had rung.
Their connection had always been like that, though. Even after fifteen years of almost no communication, it felt perfectly natural that Grace had called him in her moment of need.
Well, that's what he thought now that he looked back on it. When he'd picked up the phone and heard her voice, though- that crystalline vulnerability mixed with resentment and pain and uncertainty- it hadn't seemed natural to him then.
"Long time since we've talked," he heard her say, her voice oddly strained and quiet.
He was instantly nervous. "What's going on, Grace?" he asked, a few decibels louder than he'd intended. He shot a glance at Riley's bedroom door and was relieved to find it closed. "Are you okay?"
"I..." He heard her sigh. "No. I think I need help."
If he hadn't heard the urgency in her voice, Luke would've taken a moment to consider the absurdity of Grace Polk calling him in the middle of the night after fifteen years of avoidance and asking for help. He noticed it, though, and instead focused on the conversation at hand. "What's going on?"
"I- I can't explain right now, Luke. I'm coming back to Arcadia though, tomorrow afternoon. I already got the tickets. I just- I need someone at the airport."
Airport. Luke frowned. "Where are you?"
"Outside of London. My flight gets in at 4:20 PM tomorrow, your time. Will you...?" She trailed off, letting the question hang heavily in the air.
London. Luke felt a pang in his heart that he pushed aside quickly and looked toward Riley's room. He gulped. "I'll be there."
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