Title: Wings of Crimson
Author: Indian Summer
Date Published: 02.05.2005
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." I do not make a profit off of this in any way (whether it be monetary or emotionally, in reviews or whatever) so please don't sue.
.
.
.
Suddenly the room felt far too small and the air too stale. Grace shifted uncomfortably as Luke's gaze bore into her face. "I didn't really have a reason," she murmured, her hands clenching the comforter of Joan's bed. "I didn't really think."
Luke nodded, his gaze not wavering. "That's clear."
Grace bit her lip, hesitantly bringing her gaze to his face. She was surprised by what she saw there. There was certainly anger, but even more evident was the fear. She frowned. "When- I- it wasn't because of you. I just couldn't deal."
Luke sighed, his eyes dark with frustration. "Couldn't deal with what, Grace? I need more to go on than that."
She studied him for a moment, wanting so badly to share her secret with him. She couldn't do it though. Everything would be so different, and it wasn't fair to put him through that.
He seemed to realize she wasn't going to respond and began to speak, his tone oddly light. "You know, Mac had a crazy theory for why you left."
Grace shrugged. "Mac always had crazy theories."
Ninety percent of which had turned out to be true.
Luke cleared his throat, his eyes boring into Grace's. "She thought you were pregnant."
Grace blinked slowly and shook her head. "That is crazy."
"Yeah."
She couldn't tell whether his 'yeah' was a statement or a question. Gulping, she nodded. "It doesn't make sense. We already had a daughter. Why would I have run away if I were pregnant? And where would this mystery baby be now?"
Luke shrugged. "Question of the day, I guess."
.
.
"I should go check on them," Colin stated out of the blue, setting down a shot glass.
Glancing at the clock behind the bar, Joan shook her head. "Give them fifteen more minutes. They have a lot to talk about."
"My client could be bleeding to death on a bathroom floor. Or worse, his ex could be bleeding to death."
Joan chuckled, grabbing Colin's shot glass and pushing it out of his reach. "I think you've had enough to drink. And comparing the importance of people's lives? Isn't that a little utilitarian for you?"
"Big word, Joan. I'm impressed. Ow!" Colin rubbed his arm where Joan had just hit him. "You're a bloody violent sheila, aren'tya?"
"That sounds like an insult."
"Naw. And t' answer your question, I'm in the public relations business. A murdered ex is a lot worse than a murdered client."
"That's sick."
"I'm not disagreeing."
"How do you sleep at night? Don't you ever feel-" Joan was cut off as Grace rushed past the bar, Luke running after her. "Well, there's your answer. They're both alive."
.
.
"Grace! Will you slow down?" Luke called as he pushed open the lobby door, keeping a brisk pace as he tried to catch up to Grace.
He found her leaning against the hotel's brick exterior, head down as she concentrated on lighting a cigarette. "Since when do you smoke?" Luke asked, grabbing Grace's arm so she couldn't escape again.
She glanced up at him and shrugged. "I don't. Just felt like if there was any time for a cigarette..." She glanced down at Luke's hand on her arm. "Let go of me. I won't bolt. I just... needed air."
"I'm supposed to believe you aren't going to take off?" Luke asked, even as he removed his arm. His gaze bore into hers as he took the cigarette from her hand. "I asked you a question back there."
Grace shook her head. "Technically, you didn't. It was implied, sure. But you didn't ask me anything."
"Grace..."
Squeezing her eyes shut, Grace heaved a sigh. "Ask me. If you can ask me point blank, I'll tell you why I left and what happened afterwards."
Luke's jaw tensed and he opened his mouth to speak but was unable to say anything. "I- You know, I've wondered for over five years why you left, but now that I can know, I- I don't think I want to. It won't change anything."
Grace opened her eyes slowly and studied him in silence. "I was scared at first, too. For a while after I left, actually."
Luke ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Scared of what?"
Grace bit her lip. "If I tell you that, I'll have to tell you why I left."
Luke was quiet for a minute. "Tell me."
Grace bit her lip. "Can we, uh, go back to my apartment? I don't really want to be in front of a hotel for this."
Luke's stomach flipped at the suggestion and he nodded. "Yeah, sure."
.
.
"I thought you said you could hold your alcohol," Joan muttered as she helped Colin into a cab.
"I can. See? Two hands, to hold two glasses." Colin snickered. "Get it?"
"Uh, yeah." Joan rolled her eyes. "I swear my brother should hire a second PR guy just to cover your ass."
"I'm not drunk. I could blow in a bag and she'll be right."
"I'm going to need to invest in one of those Aussie to English dictionaries," Joan said as she climbed into the backseat with Colin, pulling the door closed behind her.
"You're coming with me? Should I be honored?"
"I'm coming with you to make sure you don't choke on your own vomit, so no. Why are you staying at a hotel across town anyway?"
Colin shrugged, lapsing into silence.
Joan studied him as he started to hum idly. She doubted he had bothered to brush his hair since the public appearance earlier that day, but it still fell almost perfectly in a tousled way. She gave herself a moment to hate him for that.
"Y'know, Luke's right."
Joan laughed. "I doubt that. About what?"
"You. Gregory. You're too good for that piss-tank. You deserve someone better"
"Like who?"
"I don't know. Just someone better. God or someone."
Joan winced. "You have no idea how creepy that is."
.
.
"So this is your apartment," Luke said casually as they walked to Grace's door. "It's... nice."
Grace laughed. "It's big enough for me."
"I guess so."
Grace went to unlock the door but was surprised to find it open. She shrugged, pulled it all the way open, and stepped inside. "Sorry it's not what you're used to," she muttered, making her way toward her bedroom.
She stopped suddenly as she noticed her door was open. "I could've sworn I..." she trailed off, throwing it open. "Oh, lovely."
Gavin looked up from where he was standing next to the nightstand and grinned. "I left my laptop here the other night." His gaze wandered past Grace to where Luke was standing behind her, stunned. "What's he doing here?"
Grace sighed. "We're just talking."
Gavin stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay." He held up a laptop case. "I'm going to go now. I'll see you tonight."
He dropped a lingering kiss on Grace's lips and brushed past her and Luke. Grace cleared her throat. "Anyway, I wanted to show you-"
"Wait, what?" Luke frowned. "Give me a minute. I'm still processing the fact that my ex-wife and my high school principal are living together."
Grace rolled her eyes. "He doesn't live here."
"See, Grace, I think you're somehow overlooking the big picture."
"I don't think I am." Grace shrugged. "So I was saying..."
"When'd you start dating Mr. Price?"
Grace rolled her eyes, frustrated. "I'm not dating him."
"You just live together."
"No. He stays here sometimes, but we aren't... he's still married, and I'm not looking for a relationship."
Luke's eyes widened. "So he just- what- has sex with you?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Grace shrugged. "Can we move on? I didn't think you'd care who I was sleeping with anyway."
Luke laughed harshly, throwing his hands up in the air. "What? You're my wife! I don't think you should be sleeping with the guy who used to tell us not to make out in the hallways of Arcadia High!"
Grace smiled sadly. "We were always only married when it was convenient for you, weren't we?"
Luke's jaw slackened. "What?"
"Never mind." Grace offered him a half smile and walked over to her bureau. Opening the top draw, she pulled out a manila envelope and spilled the contents out on her bed. She bit her lip and picked up a photograph, handing it over to Luke. "Our daughter," she murmured, gesturing to the picture.
Luke frowned. "This isn't Zara."
Grace swallowed. "I know."
.
.
.
