Story: Beyond the Darkness

Chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don't own Joan Of Arcadia.

IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ-

Hey. To explain, part of this story was originally co-written between myself and lemmingally. Then we decided we would each go our own way with the idea and see where we ended up. This is not a competition. We are bestest friends and HAVE NOT fallen out. But for the sake of the story and our readers, we decided to each write this separately and without compromise. I have changed most of the fic but the odd line or paragraph I have kept the same.

The fact remains that Lemmingally had an equal part in writing the originals and she deserves some of the credit for them. Luv ya Ally x.

If you were partial to weird non story related AN's that came with B.T.D when Ally and I co-wrote it then don't worry. I'll still get her to co write the odd chapter of random stuff or whatever with me, as we too were partial to the non story related AN's

An: Maybe (I can't remember), Grace officially lives in a house. But here it's a flat. I can't be bothered changing it.

Part 1

Grace turned her key in the lock and opened her front door. Walking into the flat she was at once struck by the smell of alcohol, intoxicating and upsettingly familiar. Her heart skipped a beat as she tried to swallow down the lump developing in her throat.

Get a grip Grace. You don't care, remember? You don't give a damn. You've had years of this, you're used to it. You don't care anymore.

She pulled out her key and closed the door behind her with a soft click. She was about to turn down the hall towards her room when she hesitated, freezing for a second. She turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction. She knew, even then, that no good could come from it. But there was still a tiny part of her, a part that she hated, that wanted to say goodnight to mom before she went to sleep.

"Mom, Mom it's me. Where are you?"

Grace faintly heard the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom, the volume increasing as she got closer. Strained, painful wrenching noises that she had fallen asleep to too many times before.

"Oh Mom." Grace once again saw her Mom bent over the toilet; the content of her stomach spewing from her moult as her body screamed in protest at this self inflicted abuse. Grace bit down on her lip hard as she fought the tears. This sight got her every time. "Why do you have to keep doing this to yourself?"

"Gracie,"

Grace shuddered, filled with the sudden urge to reach out and strangle the pathetic attempt of an adult in front of her.

"I think… it's past… past your … bedtime."

She looked at the watch on her wrist. Seven thirty. Taking a few deep breaths, Grace picks up a towel and tries to clean the sick of her mom's face.

"Go to bed! Don't touch me." She batted her daughter away with a careless hand.

Grace didn't have the energy to argue. After a few seconds she walked out, wishing she had just gone strait to her room and put her Walkman on full volume, her usual defence towards these ever more frequent situations. She went to bed alone and upset. But 'Gracie' was used to that.

Part 2

Reluctantly, Grace opened her eyes to the morning glow of sunshine on her face. Remembering the night before she frowned, wondering where her mom had fallen asleep. She didn't bother shouting her. She wouldn't answer back anyway.

She got up with the intention of calling Joan to plan something for the afternoon. Besides, she needed Luke's chemistry notes. Her mom was crashed out on the sofa. Grace went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"Mom, you need to drink this. Mom, wake up." There was no reaction. Grace's heart started to beat just a little faster. "Seriously, you need to wake up now. Mom?" Grace shook her. "Mom!" Still nothing. She reached out and put two fingers on her mom's neck, checking for a pulse. Nothing. She moved to her mouth and nose, praying to feel her moms breath, hot and humid on her hand like she had so many other times when she had checked. She stayed a few seconds longer than she knew was conclusive. Still nothing.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god Mom! What the hell do I do?

Grace ran franticly into the hall and grabbed the phone. She picked out keys 911.

"I need an ambulance! Come right now. Please come right now! She's stopped breathing!" She ran back to her mother's lifeless form and remembering what the guy on the phone had told her, rolled her into the recovery position. Her father, the Rabbi, had left for a late sermon last night and was not yet got home. Knowing that her dad didn't have his cell with him because it was on the table next to her, she called the phone line at the synagogue but that was engaged. So she left a message.

"Dad it's me, Grace. There's… there's something wrong with mom. Just meet us the at the hospital okay?" she hung up, becoming aware of her hands shaking.

It seemed like a lifetime to Grace before her ears could pick out the sound of sirens in the distance. She rushed over to buzz the ambulance crew in the second they arrived.

Part 3

Grace sat alone in the relative's room of the hospital, her eyes red and swollen. A doctor walks in. She recognises him as one of the guys who tried to save her mom.

Tried to.

"Hey. I never got your name." He smiled sympathetically.

She looked up at the guy and already hated him for his sympathy.

Why do I even have to reply? Why do I have to anything? Why should I have to drink the disgusting tea they keep bringing me? Why do I have to sit on this cold hard chair in a separate room? Is grieving infectious? Couldn't I sit with other human beings?

Eventually the silence was too heavy. "Grace."

Why do I even have to keep on breathing? I'd be so much easier to just stop.

"We did everything we could Grace, I'm very sorry."

Whatever. Sure. It's not you who could have been there all night though. It's not you who could have stopped this. It's not you who just went to bed and left her.

"Your father just called. He says he's very sorry but he's stuck in traffic and he's doing everything he can to get to you as soon as possible. Oh, and there's someone at reception for you, say's her name's Joan?"

It's not you who could have stopped this. It's not you who could have been there when it mattered.

"How did he sound?"

"Who?"

"My dad."

"Well, upset. Understandably. And he's very concerned about you. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"Joan's here?"

He nodded.

"Is Luke with her? Tell her I want to see him."

He nods again, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Then he walked out.

Joan jumped up as the doctor walked through the doors. "How is she?"

"I can't say really. Not brilliant though. She asked for 'Luke'. Do you know him?"

Joan turns to her brother. "Grace wants to see you." Luke looked almost as bad as Grace did.

"Okay then." He seemed slightly surprised by this.

Oh god. What the hell do I say to her?

The doctor looked over at Luke. "Come on through, if you're ready."

Joan gave her brother a quick hug before he followed the doctor through the doors.

When he walked in she was sat on a plastic chair in a corner of the relatives room, a plastic cup of tea cold and untouched on the plastic table next to her. She noticed Luke and stood up to meet him.

"Grace, I…I'm…" Luke stopped, aware of her leaning forward towards him, stepping closer until her head reached that groove in his shoulder where it fitted perfectly.

I guess I don't have to say anything.

He pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around her to stroke her hair like she had let him only once before. Those words almost haunted him now, 'My Mother Drinks.'

Part 4

Joan was left alone in reception. Another guy walked over, a younger one.

"Hey Joan." God's usual sarcastic tone had mellowed into the softest voice she had ever heard him use. He sat down in the seat next to her.

"It's you!" Joan got up and moved away from him by a few paces, her voice aggressive and angry.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? You let my best friend's mom just die! I hate you!"

"Joan. I think we've had this conversation before. Remember, after Judith died?"

"I know, it's just… just…" A few tears rolled slowly down her cheek. She fell back into her chair next to god.

He put his arm around her, whispering soothingly into her hair. "I know Joan. I know."

She leant her head against his shoulder, remembering all the other times he had comforted her like this.

After a minute he shrugged him off. "Stop it. I'm mad with you."

God frowned, obviously hurt. "Everything has a reason Joan." He said in an agonisingly calm voice that made Joan want to scream.

"You…you…" All the words she wanted to scream out were constricting her throat, choking her.

"What's your reason then? I hate you! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Oh Joan. If only you knew how much.

He coughed, clearing his throat. "Everything has a reason Joan."

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Well that's all for now. I would really like for you to tell me what you think. Unless you hated it. In which case I do have to admit I'd rather not know. But otherwise please review!

Hezzie x