Title: Wings of Crimson

Author: Summer Indian Summer

Date Published: 09.12.2004

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."

Author's Note: Thanks to Joan for betaing this at the last moment.
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Dignity and love do not blend well, nor do they continue long together.

-Ovid

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The room's dimly lit and there's soft strains of music and a subtle grape scent in the air when Grace enters her apartment. All the signs of romance are there, but the feeling has evaporated in the past half hour.

She goes through the motions, though, wrapping her arms around Gavin's back and breathing in his musky scent, a subtle mixture of cologne and Irish Spring. She drops her head to rest against his chest and his hands tighten around her back as he pulls her closer, dropping kisses on the crown of her head.

"Long day?" he murmurs, bringing a hand to her cheek. She doesn't answer as he pulls her face up to look at him, and he sighs. "It's over now," he whispers, kissing her gently on the forehead.

She nods as his lips graze her cheek, still unable to speak. His mouth finds hers and she sighs, partly because it feels good, partly because it's easier to give in than answer him, mostly because it's expected.

"Don't think about it," he says as he trails kisses along her jaw line, and Grace tilts her head as his lips find her neck. He sucks gently, and Grace moans, wishing she could stop her thoughts and just revel in the feeling.

But it doesn't happen. His lips are on hers again, and she kisses him back mechanically, her hands trailing up and down his arms.

"What is it?" he asks between kisses, his eyes searching hers.

'I was just reunited with my daughter only to be told I can't be part of her life. Luke hates me. Zara doesn't know who I am. Joan pretends she doesn't.'

She shakes her head. "Nothing," she murmurs, snaking her arms around the back of his head and pulling him down, letting her actions drown out her words.

She isn't surprised that he's already pushing her toward the bedroom; Gavin's never been one for romance and niceties. She's walking backwards, her feet matching him step for step even as her mind drifts further away.

"We'll make those thoughts disappear," he says as her back's leaning against the door. She can feel his arm against her side, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. "Don't worry about anything, Grace. Everything's okay, everything's alright." He gets the door open and pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, just enough to offer her a small smile. "You're perfect," he says, and his lips are back on hers as he pushes her into the room.

And even as he undresses her, her mind's still on her conversation with Luke.

'There's no reason you can give me that will make anything okay.'

Nothing's been okay for a really long time now, though, and Grace doesn't even know where to start to change that.
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Contrary to popular belief, Aurora's not stupid. She doesn't know as much about science and math as Luke, and she's never claimed to understand his lectures, but that doesn't mean she doesn't understand him.

Midnight's come and gone, and the alarm clock on the nightstand glows red, the numbers 12:54 projected onto the ceiling.

Aurora's very intuitive. She's always picked up on signs before, and she doesn't miss any tonight.

Luke's always been one for pillow talk, so when he flipped onto his side after they made love earlier, without so much as an 'I love you,' Aurora took note.

She'd pretended not to, of course, because learning the truth would've been too painful. So instead, she'd pulled the sheets over her chest and settled into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and pretending to be asleep.

Over her even breaths, she'd heard Luke shift and when she heard his muffled cries she knew he thought she was asleep. He'd gone on that way for almost ten minutes, crying into his pillow, before he'd calmed down enough to fall asleep.

Sleep was when you were at your most vulnerable, they say. Aurora couldn't disagree more. You were at your most vulnerable when the man you loved was asleep, and you lie awake next to him. It was when right as you thought sleep would come, and you heard him utter her name in his sleep, and suddenly you didn't feel tired at all.

You just felt sick.
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Every morning for the past nine years, Luke had woken up at 5:30. It had been a necessity when Zara was born, simply because that was the time Grace would finally be able to fall asleep. And as Zara grew up, it had become habit. By the time she was four, and Grace had already left, Luke would get up and prepare himself a cup of coffee, and just sit at Zara's bedside and watch her sleep.

Zara looked so much like her it pained him sometimes. Sometimes- when there was that mischievous glint in her eyes, or when the corner of her lips curved into that half smile, or when she pouted- it was like he was looking at Grace.

"Daddy?"

Luke jumped at Zara's voice, surprised she was awake. He set his coffee down on the table and crossed the room to her bed. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry, Zara."

Zara smiled, scooting over to make room for him. "It's okay."

Luke sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders. "It's early. You should go back to bed. I'll wake you in a few hours."

Zara looked at him, her eyes big and cobalt blue. "What were you thinking, Daddy? When you were looking at me?"

Luke froze, looking down at his little girl. He knew Zara was a human lie detector, and there was no sense... "I was thinking of how much you remind me of your mother," he said slowly, honestly.

Zara shifted a little, setting into Luke's side. "Tell me about her, Daddy."
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Waking up with Grace Polk in his arms was unsettling to Gavin, even after four years. It was rare for him to stay the night; usually he'd slip out sometime in the early morning, once Grace had fallen asleep.

But there were those rare mornings when he'd awaken to Grace's warm breath against his chest, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Like today.

"Grace," he whispered, just loudly enough to jar her from sleep.

"Arghermengurm," she muttered unintelligibly, nuzzling her face against his chest.

Gavin sighed and pulled back. "Come on."

"I'd rather stay in bed all day," she murmured sleepily, pulling back anyway.

Gavin raised an eyebrow, taking in her naked form. "I can't picture you doing that."

"You didn't have the kind of night I did last night," Grace returned, her eyes suddenly guarded.

Gavin blinked. "Ouch."

"No," Grace sighed. "Not that. Before I came home."

"Oh," Gavin smiled. His confidence returning, he reached over to softly stroke her hip. "That bad?"

Grace nodded, glancing down at his hand. "I ran into Luke."

"Well, that's a mood killer," he muttered, his hand stopping in its ministrations.

"Zara was with him. And Aurora and Joan."

Gavin frowned. "What happened?"

Grace shook her head. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She stood up suddenly. "I'm going to take a shower."

Gavin nodded, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.
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Just last night, he'd been throwing this in Grace's face. Zara had never asked about her. Zara had never cared.

Luke saw the irony. Less than twenty-four hours later, his daughter was asking about her mother.

He cleared his throat, tightening his grip on Zara. "Your mother was different than all the other girls I knew," he started slowly, unsure of what he was going to say. "She wasn't a girly-girl, like Aunty Joan and Aurora. She wore a leather jacket and the only makeup she ever would've worn was war paint."

Zara shifted against him, cuddling further into his side. He adjusted his arm before continuing. "But she was beautiful. Almost as pretty as you. She had blonde hair, but not like yours. Hers was straight and she wore it down. I don't think I ever saw her do anything with it."

"She never put it in a ponytail?" Zara interrupted, her voice sleepy.

Luke shook his head. "Nope. She wore it shorter than that, anyway. And her eyes. Her eyes were this beautiful gray, with flecks of green and blue."

"She sounds pretty."

"She was. But her personality was different, too. When she saw something wrong, she tried to fix it."

"Like a broken lamp?"

Luke smiled. "Yeah, like that. Or like a problem in society. She chained herself to a tree for three days once, when Arcadia was going to cut down a piece of the forest to build a mall."

"Did they do it?"

"Nope. Your mom stopped them. She had this charisma, this charm. People noticed her. People did what she asked. They listened to her."

Zara nodded, resting her head in the crook of Luke's arm. She didn't say anything for a moment, and Luke was starting to wonder if she'd fallen back to sleep when she asked quietly, "Did you love her, Daddy?"

Luke's heart constricted painfully. "Yeah, I did."

"Did she love you?"

'I don't know. I thought she did. I thought she loved me and she was happy, but-' Luke sighed, running his free hand through Zara's hair. "Yeah, she did."

"What about now? Do you love her now?" Zara asked.

Luke didn't answer as Zara's body went limp with sleep. He sighed, glancing down at his sleeping daughter, her angelic features, the likenesses to his wife. "Yeah," he said softly, kissing Zara's forehead, "I do."
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Grace stole a glance at the clock as she poured maple syrup over a plate of French toast and heaved a sigh of relief. They'd stop serving breakfast in less than half an hour.

"Life never turns out the way you'd like it to, huh?"

Grace froze at the voice, setting the plate down and turning slowly toward the speaker. "Joan," she stated, not meeting the girl's gaze. "Why are you here?"

Joan leaned against the counter in silence until Grace met her gaze. "To talk," she said simply, offering Grace a shrug, "Can you take a few minutes off?"

Grace looked around nervously, her eyes settling on Holly. "Uh, okay...Yeah, sure."

"Good," Joan nodded.

Grace sighed as she walked around the counter, trailing behind Joan as the latter found a table. "What do you want to talk about?"

Joan settled down into a seat. "Can we skip the awkward part? You know what I want to talk about. Last night and my brother."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if we should-"

"Listen Grace," Joan interrupted quickly, leaning forward, "You hurt him. And even though you were like my best friend, it still sucks. He's my brother. But the thing is, that was like, five years ago, right? So just put the past in the past. I'm sure Luke will come around."

Grace shook her head. "I don't think so, Joan."

Joan ran a hand through her hair in a gesture of frustration and sighed. "He's still hurt, Grace. He still doesn't get what happened. None of us do."

"I didn't... I wasn't..." Grace sighed. "I don't know why, Joan. If I did, it wouldn't be like this."

Joan nodded. "I know. But just look at it from Luke's point of view, okay? How would you feel if you were in his shoes?"

Grace treated that as a rhetorical question. "What do you expect me to do?"

A small smile tugged on the corner of Joan's lips, making Grace worry. "You're going to come back to the hotel with me and talk to Luke. Aurora's out shopping, so..."

Grace shook her head. "No, Luke told me not to go near-"

"Luke's said a lot of things lately," Joan shrugged. "I know what's best for my brother, and I know what's best for my niece. It isn't Aurora."

"I don't know..."

"I do."
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