Title: Miracles and Malarkey

Author: Indian Summer

Date Published: 12.24.2004

Disclaimer: Seriously, don't take my opinions on God, Jesus, life, etc. too seriously. It's just a theory. Although researching Jesus' real birth date did prove to be interesting, and maybe worth it for you. Oh, and I don't own "Joan of Arcadia," God, or any of that good stuff. No profit's made off of this.

Prologue
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Had you asked Helen Girardi a couple years ago, she would've told you there wasn't a chance in the world that her family would ever have a normal Christmas again. Yet here it was, Christmas Eve in Arcadia, Maryland, and all her loved ones were gathered in the living room trading stories and unwrapping presents.

Helen stood in the doorway and looked in on her children as they drank their hot chocolate and looked out the window as snow fell, feeling the moment warranted a postcard.

The night had been oddly reminiscent of the Christmas before Kevin's accident, down to Beth's homemade fudge and the knit scarves her mother had made for the Girardis. Now, the petite brunette was sitting on Kevin's lap with her legs slung over the wheelchair and her arms over his shoulders, giggling as he told her some joke.

Joan was curled up with a blanket on the couch, her head resting against Adam's side as she anxiously awaited her turn to unwrap a present.

Even Luke, Helen's baby, was sitting with his girlfriend, although clearly he and Grace weren't nearly as comfortable with each other in public as the other two couples.

As she watched her kids interacting with their friends and significant others, Helen felt Will approach from behind. She leaned back against him as he wrapped his arms around her and settled his head over her shoulder.

"I told you everything would eventually go back to normal," Will murmured, gazing at the kids.

Helen smiled, patting his hand lightly. "No. You didn't. But it is, isn't it?"
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"Oh my God! This is awesome," Joan squealed as she tore open a package, looking around the room wildly. "Mom got me that gray sweater I wanted!"

Grace raised an eyebrow as she looked at the sweater. "And I'm sure the kids who work for fifteen cents an hour to provide the-"

"Grace, shut up," Joan whined, turning instead to Beth, and gesturing to the sweater. "Isn't it pretty?"

Beth nodded, intertwining her fingers with Kevin's. "I have a shirt I think would go really well with it, if you want to-"

"Thank you," Joan cut her off, grinning at Adam. "Do I get to open your present now?"

Adam opened his mouth to reply, but Helen's call prevented him from responding.

"Joan? There's a boy at the door for you. He said he found your license at the school yesterday," Helen called, poking her head into the room.

Joan frowned. "My license? I didn't notice I'd..." She trailed off, understanding suddenly dawning on her. "Oh, okay."
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Within a couple minutes of Joan's disappearance, everyone but Luke and Grace had filtered into the kitchen for cookies or fudge or refills of cocoa and whatnot.

Grace slumped back against the couch and glanced over at Luke, who offered her a small smile.

"Thanks for coming," he murmured, reaching out for her hand.

Grace raised an eyebrow and pulled her arm away. "I may have agreed to come, but that doesn't mean I'm a Kewpie doll."

Luke started to respond but shook his head. "I don't even get that reference."

"Whatever."

Luke sighed, trying again. "Seriously, Grace. Thank you. I know this is your first Christmas..."

"Nah, I used to go to Rove's on Christmas Day when I was little," she interrupted.

"...And I know you're uncomfortable..."

"And you're definitely helping there," Grace muttered.

Luke sighed. "Just thanks, okay? Lets leave it at that."

Grace offered him a small smile. "Yeah..." She met his gaze, searching his eyes for a moment. "I got you something."

Luke couldn't suppress his smile as he looked at her. "You didn't-"

"Shut up. I wanted to." Grace shifted, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?" Luke asked, taking the paper from Grace and gingerly unfolding it. He read over the first couple lines before glancing back up and looking at her. "Is this...?"
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Joan stepped outside to find CuteBoyGod in all his glory. Standing with his arms crossed over his corduroy jacket clad frame and shivering, Joan found it hard not to laugh. "God gets cold?"

"I should've worn a different coat."

"And thrown me off? How about you just make it twenty degrees warmer?" Joan retorted, glancing past him at the snowy ground.

"I thought you wanted a white Christmas."

Joan sighed. "I do. I'd just like it to be eighty degrees out and still have snow on the ground."

"There has to be give and take. That's how the world operates."

Joan crossed her arms over her chest, starting to shiver herself. "What are you here for? I thought you'd leave me alone, start celebrating your son's birth or something."

"This is just a day chosen to celebrate it. Jesus was born the fifteenth day of Tishri."

"Huh? What's Tishri?"

"It's Jewish. The fifteenth of Tishri... well, that's the end of September." God sighed. "This isn't why I'm here though."

Joan raised an eyebrow. "Want to fill me in?"

"Well, you've been such a faithful servant-"

"I prefer conduit."

God held up a hand. "Right. Big word. So, I thought maybe I could see if there's anything you want this Christmas.

"Wait. God's going to do me a favor? This is rich."

God shrugged. "As long as it won't lead to the Apocalypse or something, I don't see a problem."

Joan's eyes widened. "So there is going to be an Apocalypse? That's so not cool."

"Joan!"

"Oh, right. A wish. You'll grant me a wish. Huh." Joan paused for a moment, pondering it. "Well, what if I said I wanted to see Judith again? Alive?"
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"I remember when we were sixteen you got a second degree burn on your hand when the fudge boiled over and you had to go to the hospital," Kevin told Beth as he picked up a piece of fudge.

Beth's cheeks reddened and she looked away. "I still have the scar," she murmured, holding out her pinky for inspection.

Kevin noticed the discolored mark along the side of her finger and grimaced. "And you still make it. I didn't get in a car for months after the accident."

Beth sighed. "That's different. That... that really changed your life, Kevin. My burn didn't change anything."

"You know, the worst part about the accident was that I thought that was why you left." Kevin bit his lip. "I thought you couldn't deal with having a handicapped boyfriend, and you just..."

Beth smiled sadly, taking his hand in hers. "The chair's just an extension of you, Kevin. It doesn't make you a different person."
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God shifted from one foot to the other, narrowing his eyes and studying Joan in silence for a moment. Then he nodded tersely. "That's workable."

Slack jawed, Joan gaped at him. "What? It is?" she asked, her voice higher pitched than she'd like to imagine.

God nodded. "Yeah. See, life's complicated. There's multiple dimensions. Each decision you make leads you onto another plane. Some overlap. So Judith's still alive on many other planes- there was the decision for Judith to go with her friends, there was the decision to fight, the decision for... someone to stab her, and so on. On the planes where those decisions were reversed, Judith's still alive."

Joan frowned. "So there's like, a million of me in the world?"

"Not really. Technically, there's only one of you, since you are the product of the decisions you made. But on different planes, sure. There's a 'Joan Girardi' who decided to run away after Kevin's accident, and there's one who took school so seriously she got accepted to Yale as a junior."

"That's..." Joan trailed off, something suddenly occurring to her. "Wait. If Judith's dead in this dimension, but alive in another... does that mean I'm dead someplace?"

God nodded. "Many decisions could've led to your death, Joan, but so far, you've chosen wisely."

"That's... comforting," Joan muttered, clearly feeling it was anything but.

"So do you still want to see Judith?"

"Suddenly I'm very indecisive."

God sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, this is once decision that won't affect any others, as I'll be...melding your consciousness with that of another Joan Girardi. Neither of you will remember it, though, or even realize it has occurred."
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Grace drew her knees to her chest in an almost defensive gesture before replying. "It's from this journal I kept when I was twelve. That was the first time I had to call 911 for my mom..."

Luke stared at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her to his side. "Grace, you didn't have to give me this. If you want to, you can take it back. I don't-"

Grace tilted her head up and lightly kissed his jawline. "You said I don't open up enough. This is my way of telling you that I'm not... I'm not like that, okay?" she said quietly, loosely wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Yeah?" Luke kissed the crown of her head.

"Mmm..." Grace was quiet for a moment before glancing back up at Luke. "I love you," she murmured, before relaxing into him again.

Luke froze, unsure of whether or not she'd really said it or if it was just his imagination. She looked so relaxed and casual, not all like someone who'd just...

"I love you, too," he whispered, and his only response was Grace's arms tightening around him..
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