Group: Living in the Silence
Drabble No. 5: Runaway God
Rating: PG
Fandom: Joan of Arcadia
Spoilers: Silence and anything before
Pairing: Joan/Adam, Luke/Grace
Disclaimer: Joan of Arcadia and all related elements © Barbara Hall Productions, Inc. and CBS Productions, in association with Sony Pictures Television. All rights reserved.

Author's Note: This installment is dedicated to niteowl-gal on her birthday. Today is her birthday. Yep. Happy birthday, love!

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Grace didn't come to the house anymore. If she did, she'd knock quickly and then stand halfway out in the yard as if she was afraid of getting infected. Luke could always tell when it was her, too. He'd hear the swift knock and the shuffle of feet like a young kid who was trying to play a prank. He sometimes wondered if Grace had ever done that.

One time, he'd answered the door. It was one of the earlier times she came over, when he didn't have it set in his mind that it was her at the door. He'd opened the door and she took one look at him, turned around and started at a run back to wherever it was she had come from. He rather would have had her punch him in the chest than run away. Luckily she didn't really care what he wanted anyhow.

So this time when she knocked, he only faltered for a second, and then sat back down. He watched Joan walk past the kitchen and out the front door. She wasn't talking to him either. Apparently she thought he had some mission to find out every little detail about her life and she called him "twisted and sick and a stalker" and now refused to eat dinner at the table with him. Kevin told him he'd messed up pretty bad, but he wasn't going to help him any because he didn't take part in it. Luke thought that was pretty shallow of him.

He had thought it was bad when Grace didn't talk to him, but not having Joan talk to him was worse. He never would have thought that would happen, as he would always tease her and not want to hear what she had to say, but now that she wouldn't talk to him, he felt alienated.

Sure Joan was annoying and girly and rambled on a lot about things that weren't really important, but he realized once it was gone he sort of missed it. He also just missed picking on her like he used to be able to do. He also missed Grace.

Luke was sure he'd never been so miserable before in his life. If he would have stayed with Glynis things would have been so much easier right now.

---

Adam was glad she was out and about again. Really, he was. It was just the selfish part of him that wished that it was more with him and less with Grace. He was glad they were getting along so well, sure, but why did it have to be her all the time?

Typically, it went like this.

"Hey Jane, what are you up to?" Adam would ask, calling his girlfriend over the phone.

Joan would answer the phone, sounding like she was in a rush and would quickly apologize. "Oh Adam, hey. I'm glad you called, but I'm about to go out with Grace. Can I call you later?"

Adam would then sigh and nod, though she couldn't see that. "Alright."

And that was the end of that. And most of the time, she didn't call back. On the rare occasion that she did, it was only for a few minutes and then something would come up.

"Hey, sorry about this, Adam, but Mom says I have to go now."

He knew she wasn't doing it on purpose, but it felt like that sometimes. And even when you know something isn't the way you think it is, you still can't help how hurt you feel on the inside.

He had thought they had gotten somewhere the last time they had talked, though her rant about fairy tales had scared him a bit. Almost as much as when she said she talked to God. It had caught him off guard. She was seeing God? Didn't that scare her, even if it wasn't real? Adam was pretty sure it'd scare him. He didn't know a whole lot about God but he knew that he'd be scared if he ever met him.

The fairy tale rant sounded almost the same. She just sounded really confused and he wanted to help her with it, but he didn't know what to do. She'd held him up and helped him trek through so many things, he just wanted to give that back to her. This situation seemed a lot more helpless, though. He wondered sometimes if she didn't need to get some sort of professional help or something. Like go and see some sort of psychologist or counselor. He knew she'd be angry with him if he mentioned that to her though.

He sometimes wonders if he's bitten off more than he can chew.

---

Joan's had a lot of weird dreams. If she could remember them in complete detail and write them all down, she could probably publish a book of them. The Funny, Freaky and Just Plain Wrong Book of Dreams by Joan Girardi. She wondered if that was possible. She might be able to make a lot of money on that.

Tonight's dream wasn't any different. It wasn't evil koala bears in hats, but by Joan's new definitions; it was worse.

She was back in the hospital, except she wasn't in the bed. Well she was, but she was seeing it through someone else's eyes.

So there she was, sleeping on the bed and all of a sudden, God walks in. No, that's not God, that's a hallucination. And this is a dream.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, surprised at hearing her own voice. She hadn't meant to say anything to him.

"Coming to see how you are doing, Joan." She watched him touch her forehead and felt a shiver run through her body.

"You came and saw me?"

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Yes." She didn't know what to say. He was there. He had come and seen her while she was in the hospital. But wasn't she hallucinating? Wasn't that what the doctors had been telling her? That it was lyme disease and she never had a special relationship with God?

"I thought you weren't real." She finally said.

"I get that a lot." He was still looking down at the Joan on the bed. He wouldn't look over at the Joan who was talking to him. She wondered if she was really even there.

"So I wasn't hallucinating?"

"I can't tell you that. You've got to figure it out on your own." His voice was strong, but soft at the same time. He looked like he was memorizing the Joan on the bed.

"What if I can't?" Her voice was small and almost cracking.

"I'm sorry."

"Adam didn't believe me."

"I wouldn't say that necessarily."

"He said I was dreaming!" She yelped.

"Maybe you were."

Her mouth dropped open. "Why are you doing this? Why won't you just tell me what is and what isn't so I can understand?" Her voice was loud and seemed to echo throughout the room. Her parents were sleeping on the couch, but they didn't stir. Maybe she really wasn't there.

God's voice was still firm and quiet. "I can't do that, Joan. I haven't done it for anyone else and I can't do it for you. You've got to decide for yourself. That's the point of it all. You've got to find your own faith... I can't just hand it to you."

She was silent for a while. She just stared at him, wondering exactly what she was supposed to do with this information.

"How do all the others do it?" She asked after what seemed like a never-ending silence.

"They believe."

"How?"

"With their hearts. They have love for me—and I for them."

"What about the ones who don't love you? What about the ones who are still trying to figure it out?"

"I still love them too. Sometimes people just need some time."

"Do I have time?"

"Yes."

"A lot?"

God actually sighed. "Not really."

"So I am different than the others?"

"Not all of them, but most of them."

"Why? Why am I different?"

"Because I wanted you to be. Because I chose you to be. Because you are." He finally looked up at her and her eyes were flooded with bright, illuminating light that made her cover her face with her hands.

She sat up quickly in the bed. She was sweating and breathing deeply. She looked around her room. Nothing was out of place. It was a dream. Was it a dream she'd made up or was it God invading her head?

She got up and made her way to the kitchen. The light was on and she faltered for a minute, not wanting to see who it was, but then decided she'd chance it.

She found her mom sitting at the counter with a glass of milk. She looked up when Joan came in and smiled. "Can't sleep?"

Joan shook her head, getting a glass of water and sitting down next to her mother. "I had a dream with the brown-corduroy coat God again."

"Oh yeah? I haven't had it again. I think it's sort of neat that we have both had him in our dreams though. Sort of makes me feel closer to you..." She wanted to be closer to her. She wanted Joan to confide in her. She wanted a lot of things with Joan to be better.

"Yeah, I guess it does." She nodded and smiled over at her mom.

Helen smiled back.

---

Grace was glad that Luke had given her a valid reason to avoid him. She'd been running out of reasons to give him and had probably used some more than once.

It wasn't that she didn't like him, because she did. She wasn't quite sure why she liked him, but she did. Maybe it was because he was smart. It was hard to find guys these days that were actually smart and could hold an intelligent conversation that didn't include sports and chicks. Luke could do that.

But then, it was hard to hold a conversation with him that wasn't intelligent. That wasn't always all that great either. Sometimes, Grace did like to talk about things that didn't involve Newton's Laws or Aristotle. Sometimes she liked to watch mindless entertainment on TV and talk about how weird Mr. Price's clothes were. She wasn't sure he'd even enjoy talking about something like that.

She probably should have given him a chance though. She probably still could, but that would mean that she didn't really mind that he was listening to her conversation with Joan in the bushes, which she did mind. There were certain lines one didn't cross and Luke had taken a flying leap over them with that move. Plus he had heard Grace talking about him, which was just creepy in so many ways she couldn't even voice it correctly without flaring her nostrils and grinding her teeth.

So she'd wait a while. And maybe she'd call him or something. Or walk by him on the sidewalk, push him and tell him to call her. Yes, that sounded better than her tracking him down like a lovesick puppy. Like Adam and Joan.

She was not like Adam and Joan.

---

Iris liked working with kids. She liked it a lot. They were easy to talk to, fun to be around and they weren't demanding. Not like kids her age. Not like A was.

Well he wasn't that demanding of her—it was more that Joan was demanding of him. And she had to admit, she had liked Joan before her and A started dating. She wasn't all that bad of a person and she could be pretty funny sometimes. But once she started to get jealous of their relationship, she had a feeling that her and A were going to break up sooner than she thought.

She could tell he liked Joan. She saw it before they started dating. But she wanted it. She wanted to feel a closeness to someone—a male—that wasn't abusive and manipulative like her father. She hadn't known that it was possible for a male to like her, much less be nice and caring toward her. So she dated him, even though she knew it would end. Because really, it was better to have had it for a little while than to never have had it at all; and she was still glad that they'd dated, even to the very day when all she did was try and baby-sit to stay out of the house.

She had a steady job with a nice family. They didn't want to take their kids to a daycare and were more than happy to have Iris come to their house everyday and watch the two kids. They were great kids anyhow. Twins—a boy and a girl about three and a half years old. Both beautiful children. Iris hoped that if she had kids, they would look something like them.

Sometimes she would imagine living with A and having a family, but she tried to keep that out of her mind as much as she could.

---

"Joan? Is there a Joan here?"

Joan looked up from the book she was flipping through, surprised to hear her name. It looked like an older lady who worked for UPS or something. Why was she asking for Joan?

She stood up and walked over to the lady, inquiring, "Joan Girardi?"

The lady lifted the piece of paper almost inches from her face. "Yes, that's it. Are you her?"

"Yes I'm her. What is it?" She wasn't really referring to the package, but it worked just as well.

"I've got a package for you."

Well that just cleared everything up. Joan shook her head. "Why would someone have you deliver a package to me... at the library?"

The lady handed Joan what looked to only be a manila envelope. Some package. She didn't answer, but rather told Joan to sign for it.

"Did you see who sent it? I've been... um... trying to avoid mail from certain people and... well it could be something... unpleasant." Joan wasn't sure if that made her sound like all that credible of a person.

The lady shook her head. "I don't see them, I just make the deliveries. If you want to know, you could check at the post office, though I'm not sure they'd even be able to help. But look, if you've got some problems, I can tell you that it was signed for by a 'TA' and they asked that you sign for it once you got it so that they would know. That's all I know of the person. I don't even know if the sender was male or female." She shrugged, taking her clipboard and walking out the door.

Joan sank back in the seat she was in, letting the letters go through her head. TA? I don't know anyone with those initials... She slowly opened the package and pulled out a small packet of papers stapled together that explained all about lyme disease and hallucinations.

There was a note on the front. It was a piece of paper, folded in half like a card. On the front a short note was scrawled in somewhat messy handwriting.

Joan,

Thought this might be helpful to you. Be sure to read it through carefully.

She stared at it for a moment. Why hadn't they signed their name?She opened the card-like note to find another note inside. Her mouth dropped open and she started leaning in her seat without knowing it. The chair tipped over and she found herself on the floor. When she got over the initial shock and looked around, most of the people in the area were looking at her oddly. This cannot be happening.

TA...The Almighty. I think it has a nice ring to it. I'm trying to change my name. God is so short and choppy. Do you think the people would pick up 'The Almighty?' I think the songs they sing in church would be a lot more entertaining at the very least.

Don't fret Joan, you'll get through this.

God

-end five-