Title: Wings of Crimson

Author: Summer Indian Summer

Date Published: 09.03.2004

Rating: PG-13, for now

Summary: At twenty-five, Grace Polk's soul is darker than it was at fifteen. Her life has spiraled out of control, and she's lost all that's important to her. Her daughter, her boyfriend, her father. She's been looking for comfort in the arms of the wrong man, but what happens when the man she can't forget comes back?

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from "Joan of Arcadia." Credit for the chapter title is Pete Yorn's "Strange Condition."
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Read me the letter, baby / Do not leave out the words / Stories and cigarettes ruined lives of lesser girls / And I wanna know / 'Cause I want you to know


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There was something oddly relaxing about Java Script at night. It was Grace's favorite time of night, just twenty minutes before closing, when everything died down and there were few enough people to actually hear the music Holly had left playing in the background.

Tonight it was Pete Yorn, someone Grace wouldn't have been caught dead listening to in high school. Now, though, with her aching feet and a few more years of life behind her, Grace just found it soothing. She'd even caught herself singing along to "Strange Condition" as she cleared a table.

She'd agreed to close for Holly tonight, partly because she had nothing better to do, partly because Holly did, partly because she'd rather mop a floor and clear tables than be left alone with her thoughts.

She glanced toward the table where three teens sat with their chemistry books open, the only stragglers, and she saw the teenage versions of herself, Joan, and Adam in their places. It had been a long time. She idly wondered if Joan would be returning to Arcadia with Luke, but it didn't really matter. She wasn't part of that circle anymore.

Mugs clinked together in her hand as she carried them across the room, seeming much louder than they were in the quiet. She left them in the back area for the dishwasher to take care of when he arrived tomorrow morning and made her way out toward the front to give the kids a warning she'd be closing soon.

"Hey," the guy said as she approached, his eyes working over her body with all the cockiness of the average sixteen year old boy, "Do you know the chemical equation for a fire?"

She raised an eyebrow, gathering from his smile it wasn't a real question. He sat with two girls, a blonde and a brunette, both of whom were shooting him disgusted looks. As pickup lines went it was pretty feeble. "Wood doesn't actually burn," she responded, coming to a stop next to their table. "I have to close in fifteen minutes, guys."

The blonde girl nodded, but her eyes were defiant. "And if we aren't ready to go?"

"Then I find another way to get you out," Grace responded coolly, her eyes on the Chemistry books. "Do you guys go to Arcadia High?"

The dark-haired girl, who until now hadn't even looked at Grace, nodded. "We have Ms. Lishack. Do you know her?"

Grace smiled, remembering the antics of her oversexed high school science teacher. "I had her for both Chem and Physics."

"I'm sorry," the guy said, that overconfident smile still on his lips.

Grace shook her head. "She's a good teacher."

"She's a conceited teacher," the first girl chimed in, rolling her eyes, "Always all 'I-taught-the-smartest-man-in-the-world.' Like anyone could ever forget it."

Grace shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the clock on the wall. Thirteen more minutes.
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"Ah! Ah! Coffee! Food! They must have food! And I'll be able to pee," was the cry from the backseat as a coffeehouse appeared further up the road.

Toning out Joan's constant outcries as they drove through Arcadia had become more difficult for Luke with every moment that passed.

In the passenger's seat, Aurora was squirming next to him uncomfortably, not used to cars with less leg room than a limousine. At Joan's words she turned around to glare at the other woman, her eyes narrowing into thin little slits. "Haven't you ever learned anything about decorum? And really, darling, you really should lay off the coffee and donuts. It's making you a bit thick around the middle."

Joan, less mature than the eight-year-old sleeping next to her, stuck out her tongue at Aurora. "Well, darling, at least my waist is the only thing that's thick." She tapped her head pointedly.

With a dramatic sigh and a roll of her eyes, Aurora turned back around, letting her gaze fall back to the long stretch of road ahead of them. "I suppose I could go for a water," she murmured, looking at a small building ahead.

Luke braked suddenly, about to pass it, and turned quickly into the parking lot.

"Directionals, Luke," Joan chided lightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Do you want your daughter taking cues from your driving?"

Luke frowned, glancing in the rearview mirror at the small blonde girl, her head lowered in sleep. "She isn't even awake, Joan. And even if she were, she's barely eight. And hopefully she'll learn to drive with the help of Garrett, who does it professionally."

"Your chauffeur can't teach her. Doesn't a family member have to-"

Luke sighed, navigating the rental car into a parking spot and putting the car in park. "Didn't you just say you were starving?" he asked, cutting her off.

Joan, as if she had suddenly remembered where she was, swung open the back door and jumped from the car, slamming the door after her. Aurora followed slowly, her disgust at Joan's childish enthusiasm evident on her face.

Luke, having enough experience to know they'd spend the next couple minutes arguing back and forth, watched them until they entered the coffeehouse before getting out of the car himself. He opened the back door as quietly as he could, which wasn't really necessary given that he had to wake the girl up. He leaned over her sleeping form and nudged her gently, his hand resting on her shoulder.

Always a light sleeper, she opened her eyes and yawned, casting him a look that let him know she didn't appreciate being awoken.

Luke smiled at her, pulling lightly on a blonde curl. "We're stopping here to eat, Zara. Come on out and I'll buy you something."

She smiled slightly, just enough to let him see the gap where her one of her teeth had fallen out just a few days before. "Will you buy me a coffee, Daddy?" she asked, the corners of her lips turning downward in a pout, "If you expect me to stay awake, I'm going to need something with caffeine."

"So have a chocolate bar," he said, helping her out of the car.

She looked around as she slipped from the car, her gaze stopping on a wooden sign next to the coffeehouse which read 'Welcome to Java Script' in large golden block lettering. She bit her lip and glanced up at her father. "What's Java Script?"

Luke, not having noticed the sign before, laughed. "A computer term, honey," he answered simply, taking her hand in his, trying to ignore the twinge that always accompanied memories of his old life.

Zara smiled up at him. "You know everything," she said, her eyes gleaming with pride.

Luke returned the smile weakly. "Not everything," he murmured as they walked toward the coffeehouse, his mind working over all the questions he'd never found the answers to.

And at the top of the list was the one nagging thought that haunted him even in his sleep. How could he have been such a horrible person his own wife had left him?
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It was like he'd conjured her. Luke stood frozen in the coffeehouse door, his eyes burning into the back of her head.

He hadn't seen her face yet, and her hair was no longer the disheveled blonde he remembered, but he knew it was her, the same way he knew where his hand was, even in the pitch black. Even after all the time that had gone by, it was as if she were still a part of him.

His mouth was still half open when she turned around.

"Could you please close the door? The mosquitoes are-" The words died on her lips as she realized who it was. "They're bad at this time of year," she said, trying to recover but failing miserably.

He glanced over at Joan and Aurora, who'd stopped fighting long enough to watch this display. Aurora had crossed her arms over her waist, utterly confused, and Joan, who hadn't recognized the waitress on first glance, was staring at her, her eyes wide. Luke knew she was recreating her- picturing her hair shorter, as the dirty blonde she'd recognize, replacing the purple Java Script T-shirt and white shorts with the more familiar bondage pants and dark shirts.

Joan, of course, was the first to speak. "Grace!" she cried, walking over and instinctively throwing her arms around her.

Aurora's eyes widened at the greeting and Luke realized she'd connected the dots. Before he could say anything, he felt a tug on his hand and remembered Zara's presence.

He looked back over at Grace and realized that she hadn't been looking at him at all, but at the tiny little girl. And as he smiled tightly, he wondered why that hurt so much.
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This could not be happening. She only had thirteen minutes left before closing, and if those kids hadn't still been in here, she probably would've been on her way home now.

Grace realized that in her shock she'd turned away from her customers, and she looked over at them nervously. The two girls were staring at Luke as if he were some movie star, and the guy's eyes had fallen on the shapely blonde leaning against the counter that she'd recognized to be Aurora Lynn.

Grace cleared her throat, her eyes drifting back to the young girl holding Luke's hand. She was nothing like Grace pictured her, frozen at twenty-two months in her mind, with chubby pink cheeks and wide blue eyes. Her blonde hair held loose curls, her eyes still blue and even brighter than she remembered. But the girl, who Grace had been so careful to keep out of the sun when she was a toddler, was deeply tanned and her legs were long and thin, the all American girl. Zara. Grace smiled.

Then the girl was gone from her view, pulled protectively from her gaze by Luke. Her eyes snapped up to his face and she didn't see what she'd expected. She'd prepared herself for this day- prepared to see the anger, the disgust- even hatred- on his face, but she hadn't expected this. It was a pain that she could tell he kept well masked, and if she were anyone else, she wouldn't even recognize it in his eyes.

She looked from Aurora, to the teens at the table behind her, to Joan- who'd fallen silent and was staring at the floor, having understood too late that her gesture of friendship to Grace had been a betrayal of her brother- then back to Luke.

He stared at her, still hiding Zara behind him, his lips pressed thin. "I think we need to talk," he said, pushing Zara toward Aurora.

Grace gulped as Aurora accepted Zara warmly, putting her hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. It had been hard enough to picture this woman sharing her husband's bed, but Zara was her daughter.

Zara was staring at her, her eyes wide with confusion and her teeth biting into her bottom lip.

She didn't recognize her.

It hit Grace like an avalanche, washing over her until she was sure there was no climbing out of the feeling, no surviving the pain. Her own daughter didn't recognize her.

Luke cleared his throat and Grace realized she hadn't responded. "Of course," she murmured, turning toward the counter, "We can go to the back room."
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When Grace opened the door to the break room and the musty scent enveloped them, all Luke could register was his own sadness.

It struck him that as he had sat in the office of his eighteen room mansion, his own wife was working in a tiny coffeeshop and considered a break to be collapsing on a torn leather couch and watching an 18" television. While he had people to clean and cook and even fill in his date book, even if it was just a skeleton staff, Grace served coffee and mopped a floor.

It was her own fault, he reminded himself. She'd asked for it. She'd left him.

Grace collapsed onto the couch and gestured awkwardly to the other end.

Luke sat uncomfortably on the edge of an armchair and looked at her. "She doesn't know," he said, pointblank, "She never asked and I didn't tell her."

As she blinked slowly and accepted the hit, he wondered if he'd told her that just to hurt her.

Probably.

Grace swallowed, her throat feeling very constricted. "I won't say anything," she responded, defeated. "I won't tell her."

"You won't," Luke nodded, "Because you aren't going to talk to her. You aren't going to talk to her, or offer her a cup of coffee, or even smile at her after tonight. You're going to pretend you never saw her, and let her go on with her life. As far as she's concerned, you aren't her mother. She doesn't have a mother."

Grace, obviously caught off guard by his hardened tone, nodded slowly.

Luke's jaw tensed. "I promised her I'd get her something to eat and Zara's too smart to get out of it. If we don't go back out there and act like everything's normal, if you don't serve her the same way you do any other customer…" He trailed off. "After tonight, I don't want you anywhere near her. I don't want you at my Mom's house, or at my hotel, or at any of the events I'll be at. If I even see you near her, I'll file a restraining order."

"Luke…"

Luke shook his head, surprised by his own strength. "There's nothing you can say, Grace, that will make everything that's happened change," he said tiredly, standing up. "Just don't even try. I don't want to hear it, and frankly, you don't deserve it. There's no reason you can give me that will make anything okay. So just… don't." He turned quickly and walked out of the room, leaving Grace to gather herself alone.
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And it's a strange condition / A day in prison / It's got me out of my head / And I don't know what I came for


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