A/N: With tonight's episode, my little story has officially veered off into an alternate universe.  Having said that, I hope you enjoy this chapter.  They just keep getting longer and longer.  Just a warning, you're probably going to hate me for the ending of this one, but it doesn't end there and I hope to have chapter eight up soon.  As always, thanks for the reviews.  Enjoy.

Disclaimer: As you already know, I don't own anything in connection with Joan of Arcadia.  However, I also don't own the lyrics to the Kelly Clarkson song Thankful that I used.  Just thought I'd note that.

            The CD he'd found in his locker mocked him all afternoon.  Adam knew he should listen to it.  Jane had obviously gone through the trouble of making it and somehow putting it in his locker.  But he was afraid he wouldn't like what he heard.

            A week had passed since he'd told her that he and Iris were over.  She'd looked surprised, said "Oh," and that was it.  No questions, no conversation about what that meant for their relationship, no smiles or hints of happiness.  Nothing.  The biggest change his breakup created was Jane's sudden, inexplicable distance.  Even during study group, her mind seemed to be somewhere else, maybe on the girl she'd started tutoring the day before he'd told her the news.

            It stood to reason that whatever was on the disc was not what he wanted to hear from Jane.  She probably just didn't want to tell him that she still wasn't ready—whatever that meant—in person.  So why put it on disc?  Why not just write him a letter?  A disc was so . . . permanent.  Maybe it wasn't bad, after all.  Whatever it said, why couldn't she have just told him face to face instead of causing him all of this anxiety?

            "Son?"

            Adam looked up to see his dad standing in the shed's doorway.  He tried to keep his expression blank but his dad saw his confusion anyway.

            "Want to talk about it?"

            "Not really."

            Mr. Rove nodded.  "Okay.  I just came to tell you I'm leaving for work."

            "Okay, Dad."

            Mr. Rove turned to leave then stopped. "Whatever it is, Adam, go ahead and get it over with."

            "I'm scared."

            "I can tell.  But the longer you wait, the harder it'll be when you finally get around to it."  Mr. Rove smiled at his son.  "Whatever it is can't be worse than not knowing.  Have a good night, son.  Be good."

            Adam stared at the vacant doorway after his father left. Everything his dad had said was true.  He'd waited with his mom's suicide note until it had become so big in his mind he couldn't handle it.  He decided not to let the same thing happen with Jane's CD.

            With courage he did not feel, Adam left the shed and headed for his bedroom.  He took the disc off of his desk, went downstairs and stood in front of the stereo.  A simple inscription "To Adam, From Jane" had been written neatly on the disc.  Taking a fortifying breath, Adam took the disc out of its case, put it in, cued it up and sat down on the sofa.

            "Dear Adam," came Jane's unexpected voice, "I know you're probably upset with me.  For the past week, I've been sort of out of it.  After your breakup with Iris, I should have been there for you, not lost in my own thoughts.  For that, I'm truly sorry.  But I want you to know that I heard you and that you haven't been far from my mind since you told me the news.  It's practically all I've thought about, believe it or not.

            "There's so much I want to say to you, but I don't know where to begin.  That's why I've made this CD.  Well, that and I wanted to give you something as special as all the things you've given me since we met.  I hope that after you've listened to it, you'll know, without a doubt, just how much you mean to me."

            For the next hour, Adam sat unmoving on the couch.  The CD was an eclectic mix of pop, R&B, rock, and country.  When the last song faded, Adam wiped the tears off his face, a little embarrassed that he'd cried at all.  Just as he was about to turn the stereo off, he heard Jane's voice again.

            "Well, that's it.  That's how I see you, how I think of you, what I feel for you.  Actually, it's just the surface.  It's weird.  You've become so important to me in such a short amount of time.  But that's not what I want to talk about just now.

            "Adam, I know I've been sending you mixed signals, telling you I'm not ready to couple only to get supremely jealous—yes, I admit it—when you moved on with Iris.  But I am now.  Ready, I mean.  I'm also willing to wait until you've gotten over her if that's what you need me to do.  I just want you to be happy.  I want to help you be happy.  I want . . . I want a lot of things.  Okay, now I'm babbling.  Sorry.

            "Just know that I  . . . no, I'll save that for when I next see you.  In the meantime, I hope you liked the CD.  I meant every word of it.  Love, Jane."

            The CD stopped.  Adam sat in silence for a moment absorbing everything he'd just heard.  Then he got up, grabbed his keys and a jacket and headed for Jane's.

            Jane answered his knock.  "Hey."

            "Hey."  Now that he was here, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

            She looked as nervous as he felt.  "Do you want to come in?"

            Adam shook his head.  Jane stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her.  She wrapped her arms around her to ward off the chill in the air.  Adam shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her.  As he pulled the lapels together, he realized how close they were.  Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe, hard to think about anything but what it would be like to kiss Jane again.

            Eager not to make a mistake, Adam looked a spot just over Jane's shoulder to distract himself.  "I listened to the CD."

            "And?"

            "I like it."

            "Good."

            "Jane?" he asked, shifting his gaze back to her face.

            "Yes?"

            "What were you saving to say until you saw me next?"

            Jane blushed and looked down at his hands on the lapels.

            "Jane?"

            She took a deep breath and looked in his eyes again.  "I wanted to say . . ." she stopped and rolled her eyes as if she were annoyed with herself.  "Let me try again.  Adam?"

            "Hmm?"

            "I love you."

            Instead of answering, Adam took Jane's face in his hands and kissed her.  She slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving herself over to his kiss completely.  Adam pulled her closer and kissed her with all the wild joy her declaration had unleashed in him.  When they finally pulled back, he couldn't think of anything except the miracle of holding Jane in his arms.  She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.  "I love you, Adam."

            Adam closed his eyes, savoring the sound of those words on her lips.  Pulling her a little closer, he stroked her back and smiled.  "I love you, too, Jane."

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            Adam didn't want to wake up.  Last night was the first time he'd gotten a full night's sleep in six months.  It amazed him that, even after all these years, being near Jane helped him sleep.  Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room.  Jane wasn't there.  He hadn't really expected her to be.  A glance at the clock told him that he shouldn't linger any longer.  He had to be at the park for the second and final day of the festival at ten.  If he didn't get up now, he wouldn't be able to spend any time with Jane before he had to leave.

            Pushing back the covers, Adam smiled at the memory of finding Jane in bed with him.  He'd dreamt that a cat was in bed with him, purring and staring at him like it wanted Adam to play with it.  The dream had been so vivid, he'd awakened.  He'd discovered Jane lying there, trembling slightly in the cool air.  She was snoring, the kittenish purr of a snore he'd always found so adorable.  Carefully, so he didn't wake her, Adam had pulled the sheets out from under her and covered them both.  She'd had come into his arms then, snuggling against him as if they'd never been apart.  Not questioning her presence, Adam had simply brushed a kiss on her forehead and held her to him, letting her warmth and softness lull him back to sleep. 

            Adam got up and stretched.  He tried to put the memory out of his mind, at least for the time being.  He'd never get ready in time if he didn't.  A quick look around the room revealed a neat stack of clothes on Jane's vanity chair.  His shoes and messenger bag were next to the door.  Taking his clothes and shoes, Adam went to the bathroom.  He didn't question the obviously new toothbrush laid out for him.  Showered and dressed, Adam made his way through the living room to the kitchen.

            Jane stood at the stove with her back to the doorway, singing.  Her hips swayed in time with the song.  For a moment, Adam just enjoyed the sight of her.  Then the song penetrated his awareness.

                        "You know my thoughts/

                        Before I open up my mouth and try to speak/

                        You know my dreams/

                        Must be listening when I'm talking in my sleep/

                        I hope you know/

                        I love having you around me, don't you know?/

                        That I'm thankful for the blessings/

                        And the lessons that I learned with you by my side/

                        That I'm thankful/

                        For the love that you keep bringing in my life."

            Adam's mouth dropped in wonder.  It was one of the songs on the mixed CD Jane had made him just before they'd first gotten together.  He wondered if that was the CD she was listening to or the radio.  Considering it was about eight-thirty on a Sunday morning, he was fairly certain it was the CD.  "I can't believe you have that."

            Jane whipped around, her hand over her heart.  "You scared me."

            "Sorry."

            "How long have you been standing there?"

            "Long enough to know you're in a sentimental mood," he answered, pushing off the doorjamb and joining her at the stove.  He looked in the skillet she'd been tending.  She was making French toast; he loved her French toast.  "Really sentimental."

            "Shut up," she said, a blush creeping up her neck.

            "Are there strawberries?"

            She turned even redder and Adam couldn't contain his laughter any longer.  "Thank you."

            "Don't thank me yet," she said, slightly mollified.  "I haven't cut them up."

            "Then let me."  He got the fruit out of the refrigerator and began slicing.  Jane sang along with the music and Adam hummed with her as they worked.  Soon, Jane had a plateful of French toast and a plate of bacon ready and Adam had a pile of halved strawberries.  She fixed their plates while he poured the juice.  Silently, they took their dishes to the dining room table.

            "We make a good team," Jane said as they sat.

            "We always did."

            They began to eat in silence.  Adam thought about the Saturday mornings in college when Jane would surprise him and his roommates with breakfast.  Grace would come over.  Sean would hit on her; Grace gave him the death stare she'd perfected with Luke except she really meant it with Sean.  Mike would tell stories about his theatre classes. They'd all laugh and talk and unwind after a long week of school.  This breakfast was nothing like those.

            "This is uncomfortable," Jane said.

            "Unchallenged."

            "So say something."

            Adam thought for a minute before hitting on something to talk about.  "Where do you want me to leave the clothes you lent me?"

            "I didn't lend them to you," Jane said with a smile.  "They're yours."

            "Not anymore."

            Jane rolled her eyes.  "Fine, leave them in my room."

            They lapsed into silence again.  Just when Adam was beginning to wonder about the prolonged awkwardness between them, the front door opened.  Grace strolled in and said, "Morning, Girardi, Rove," before disappearing into her bedroom. 

            Joan and Adam glanced at each other.  "Did you tell her I was here?" he asked, perplexed.

            "No," Joan answered, vehemently shaking her head.  "You were just coming over for dinner, that's it."

            "Then, why . . ."

            Adam's question was cut off by Grace's reappearance.  Watching the pair with suspicious eyes, she slowly came out of her room.  "Rove?"

            "Yeah?"  He felt like a rabbit staring down the barrel of a hunter's rifle.

            "What are you doing here at nine in the morning?"

            "Um," Adam said, forcing himself to look only at Grace, "I missed dinner, so I'm having breakfast with Jane instead."

            At least that was mostly true. 

            Grace just looked at the two of them for a long moment.  Then she nodded.  "Uh-huh.  In that case, thanks a lot, Rove."

            "What did I do?"

            "I left the comfort of my home to go to the library . . ."

            "You were going there anyway," Joan said.

            Grace ignored the interruption.  "So that you and lover girl here could have a nice, reconciliatory dinner and for what?  You miss it!"

            "Sorry," Adam murmured.

            "Not only that, the library closes early on Saturday, which I forgot.  So to give you two some privacy, I end up at the rabbi's house."

            "Oh."  

            "Then the storm came."

            Joan cast a sympathetic glance in Grace's direction.  "This just keeps getting worse."

            "Yeah.  So I was stuck there overnight."  Grace glared pointedly at Adam.  "Lucky for you, the rabbi and I are getting along now."

            Confused, Adam said, "Then what's the big deal?"

            By this time, Grace had wandered into the kitchen.  "He wanted me to go to the synagogue this morning. "

            "I'm really sorry, Grace."

            "I'll get over it."  She pointed at the leftover breakfast on the counter.  "Hey, Girardi, you mind?"

            Joan waved her permission.  "Help yourself."

            "Thanks.  By the way," Grace said as she fixed herself a plate.  "What are you listening to?"

            Nora Jones's The Nearness of You had just gone off and Faith Hill's This Kiss was playing.

            "Nothing."  Joan got up and turned off the stereo.

            Realization made Grace's eyes sparkle.  "That's the infamous 'Joan loves Adam' CD, isn't it?"
            "It's hardly infamous," Joan grumbled as she sat down again, making Adam grin.

            Grace grinned delightedly.  "Man, you two were some pretty sappy teenagers."

            "We were not," Adam protested, laughing.

            "And, even if we were," Joan said, coloring, "we were in love.  We were supposed to be sappy."

            "Whatever you have to tell yourself," Grace said.

            Joan looked down at her toast and sighed, her face beet red.  Adam laughed.  "So, Grace, what did you need from the library last night?"

            "Ray's being an ass and wants to talk about what a wonderful job the mayor's doing."  Grace grimaced at her toast and pushed the plate away.  "Don't get me started."

            "Really," Joan said when Adam opened his mouth to ask why.  "Don't."

            "Jackass."

            Adam and Joan looked at each other and laughed.  Grace rolled her eyes.  After they got Grace off the subject of her co-worker, the conversation flowed smoothly.  Adam was so comfortable, he nearly forgot about the festival.  A random glance at his watch revealed that it was almost nine-twenty.  "I have to go," he announced, the disappointment clear in his voice.

            Joan watched him go down the hall to the bathroom.  The discomfort between them had just gone away—with Grace's help, true, but still—and now he was leaving. 

            "Hey, Girardi?"

            "Hmm?"

            "What really happened last night?"

            Puzzled, Joan turned her attention to Grace.  "I don't know what you're talking about."
            Grace gave Joan a this-is-me look.  "Rove's still wearing the clothes he had on at the festival."

            Joan's jaw dropped and her mind went blank.  Had she really thought Grace wouldn't notice?  She was still trying to think of a response when Adam came back into the living room.  As if they had agreed to keep the conversation between the two of them, Joan and Grace stood and met Adam at the door.

            "I'm sorry I have to leave."

            Joan waved the apology away.  "You can't help it."

            "When are you leaving, Rove?"  Adam and Joan looked at Grace as if she'd just kicked him out.  "For New York.  When do you leave for New York?"

            "Tomorrow."  Adam noticed Joan's stricken expression.  "I only intended to stay for the fair."

            "Oh."  Joan felt like she'd just being punched in the stomach.  This wasn't "see you later," this was good-bye.  It didn't seem real that he should be leaving so soon.  Pasting a smile on her face, she raised hopefully neutral eyes to his face.  "Well, I guess that means this is good-bye."

            "Yeah, I guess so."

            Neither moved; neither wanted to acknowledge that they were separating again.  Not after the last twenty-four hours.  Grace, however, didn't share their problem.  In a thoroughly uncharacteristic move, she hugged Adam, startling both Adam and Joan out of their stupor.  "Have a good trip back, okay?"

            "Yeah, sure," Adam said.  "Okay."

            Smiling at his astonishment, Grace went to her bedroom. 

            "What was that?"  Adam asked, looking after Grace.

            "I don't know."  Joan was confused as Adam.  Apparently, displays of affection were okay with Grace as long as they weren't public.  She looked up at him and reality set in once more.  Adam was leaving.  Again.  "So."

            "So."

            "You have to go."  She peeked at him as if hoping the answer had changed.

            "Yeah.  I'll see you, Jane."

            "Will you?"

            Adam looked at her for the first time since Grace's exit.  "I'll come visit.  I promise."

            "I'll miss you."

            "I'll miss you, too."

            After a moment's uncertainty, Joan hugged him.  She closed her eyes briefly against the painful thought of having to let him go.  "Good-bye, Adam."

            "See you, Jane."  He opened the door and left.

            Joan stared at the front door and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to come.  How many times was she going to have to do that?

            "You okay?"

            She turned to find Grace leaning in her doorway. 

            "I know that couldn't have been easy."

            With a sniff and a shrug, Joan smiled at Grace.  For all her tough exterior, she was always there when Joan needed her.  "Very little is ever easy with me and Adam"

            Grace laughed.  "Truer words were never spoken."

            "Do you mind if we talk later?  I kind of want to be alone right now."

            "You know where to find me."

            Joan waited until Grace closed her door then cleaned the kitchen.  It was mindless work, but it gave her something to do.  When she finished, she took her CD out of the stereo and went to her bedroom.  The first thing she saw was the pile of clothes.  Adam had made up her bed and stacked the clothes on the end of it.  She took the clothes and CD and put them away in one of the "Adam" boxes in her closet.  There were three such boxes, all filled with paraphernalia of their six-year relationship. 

            Resisting the urge to go through each box, she closed the closet door firmly behind her.  She would not torture herself with memories—at least, not today.  She was on her way to her bed when she noticed the box on her vanity.  Curious, she changed direction and opened the box.

            Inside was the figurine she'd admired in Adam's booth the day before.  Fighting back the seemingly ever-present tears, Joan carefully removed it from the box.  A note sat at the bottom of the package.  She pulled it out and read it.

                        Dear Jane,

                                    I know you said you wanted to buy this, but I can't

                        sell it to you.  An artist doesn't sell his work to his muse.  So

                        accept this token of my continued admiration for you.  I won't

                        take 'no' for an answer.

                                                                                                Love,

                                                                                                Adam

            Joan folded the letter and gently set it down beside the statuette.  Then she put her head down on the vanity and cried her heart out.