I'm very sorry I took so long to post again. I've been awfully distracted and busy, then trying to overcome a major writer's block. I went to the Olympics! Opening and closing ceremony, and just a couple of sport events. Saw the road race for men (cycling), where my compatriot Paolo Bettini won the gold medal. Yay! But that was about it, could skip only a few days at work. Now I'm rather caught up in the UEFA craze (it's just one thing after another, I might be getting sick of watching soccer, but I can't voice that feeling because my friends, family, neighbours and especially my boyfriend might kill me).

Author's note: just in case it's not very clear, my story takes facts and events from the actual TV series episodes, but not all. So let's pretend Joan never had Lyme disease and she never told Adam that she talks to God and season two hasn't even started (cuz, in fact, for me it hasn't). Mmmkay? Mmmkay. Mike's been giving me a hard time about that.

Soundtrack: what's currently in my CD player: Keane's "Hopes and Fears" (I love "Somewhere only we know", it's one of the sweetest songs ever); the Garden State Soundtrack, and Ray Charles's greatest hits CD.

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The Beginning of the End

-by La Gioconda

Chapter Seven – It's all just a little bit of history repeating

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"Adam! Adam, wait!"

Joan was panting slightly by the time she reached the dark-haired boy's side. Adam wheeled and looked at her with an odd smile as she put her hands on her waist and grinned casually, in spite of her accelerated breathing. "Are you okay, Jane? Did you need something?" he asked once she seemed to have recovered.

Joan drew a blank. She had gone after Adam, just like God told her to. Now what? How was she supposed to bring up the subject she wanted desperately to discuss? She smiled again, trying to seem nonchalant, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, nothing, I just thought we could walk home together and keep each other company," she ventured.

Adam looked puzzled. "Isn't your house down the other way, from where you just came from?"

Joan mentally kicked herself. "Okay, fine. I'm just buying time, cuz I don't want to go home yet. Not after what happened in there this afternoon," she said. There. That was definitively more convincing. She did in fact feel a bit reluctant of going home and finding the aftermath of the cheese fire still fresh and tangible in the air.

Adam nodded in understanding, then he looked at her curiously. "What happened in your house this afternoon, anyway?"

Joan frowned. "I won't go there, you can forget about it." Adam chuckled and shrugged. They began walking again, toward Adam's house, just a couple of blocks away. Jordan found she could barely help walking at a normal pace when she actually needed to go as slow as possible, if she wanted to have this talk with Adam.

"Aw man! The Foo Fighters are coming?!" Adam said suddenly. Joan looked confused. She then realized Adam was pointing to a lamppost, where a duct-taped poster announced the alternative band's venue in almost three weeks. The last big concert that had come anywhere near Arcadia had been The White Stripes, one of Joan's favorite bands, and she had been forced to pass on the chance of going with Adam, because God had her work that night on the volunteering program for babysitting children of abused mothers. On top of that, since Joan couldn't go, Adam had taken Iris instead. Just remembering that made Joan's ears get a little warm.

She took a closer look at the poster and frowned. "Blakefield? That's nearly two hours from here," she said. Adam shook his head.

"Hour and a half," he corrected. Joan narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, yeah, much better," she said sarcastically.

"It doesn't matter. I'll try to get us tickets," Adam asked as they kept walking. "I mean, I don't know if you like the Foo Fighters, but it would be cool if you came."

"Of course I would go. I love the Foo Fighters," she answered.

"Really? I didn't know," he replied. "Guess I just never pegged you as a rock type of person. I always thought you were more of a pop person. You know, a Justin girl."

Joan looked a little offended. "Well, yeah, I like him, but I'm more of an Avril Lavigne-pop sort of person. And hey! I like rock. I like the White Stripes, remember?"

"I thought you only liked the White Stripes because you thought Jack White was hot."

Joan racked her brains. This wasn't going as she planned. "Okay, yeah, but I like their music too. Hey, Jordan must like the Foo Fighters too. I mean, she does have a poster of them in her bedroom," she ventured, suddenly remembering all the posters plastered on Jordan's closet doors. "She'd probably like to come too, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, you're probably right," Adam nodded. Joan seized her chance.

"Speaking of Jordan, you guys get along very well, don't you?" Well, that wasn't as subtle as she had hoped, but it worked. Adam looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, yeah, I guess we do. We share some things. Like art. It's nice to talk to her about art. She knows a lot."

"That can't be all you guys talk about," she commented with a chuckle. "You don't whisper about art, do you? And yet, sometimes I see you two and you're whispering, like it's a big secret." Her voice pitch went up a notch. Adam frowned in confusion.

"What do you think we whisper about?"

Joan shrugged with a forced smile. "I don't know, I was just wondering. You guys are always so chummy, it's all very mysterious."

"Mysterious? I don't know…" he was looking at her strangely. Joan had to avoid his eyes. "What are you trying to get at? Do you think I'm keeping a secret from you?"

"Hey, I'm only asking because we don't keep secrets from each other. Not anymore. And now you are doing exactly that." Her voice was definitively high-pitched; she sounded like she wanted to pick a fight with him. She tried to even her voice.

"You keep secrets from me," he said, a slight crease on his forehead. Was he trying to provoke her? Her defences went up.

"Well, I have my reasons, you know that."

It was Adam's turn to be defensive. "Well, maybe I have reasons to keep this secret from you, too. Hasn't that occurred to you?"

Joan stopped walking and faced him. Her jaw tensed as it always did when she was in a stressful situation, making her look fierce. "Is that so?"

"It is so." Adam stopped too and looked decidedly into her eyes.

"And what reason might that be? Can you tell me that?"

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "It's just that… it's not my secret to tell."

Joan's stiff jaw slackened, and she was quiet for a moment. "It's Jordan's secret," she said. It was more a statement than a question. She had an inkling.

Adam shrugged slightly. "Yeah."

"Oh…" Joan said. She suddenly felt very stupid and very awkward. "Sorry," she added, before she felt even worse.

Adam didn't say anything. Joan couldn't tell if he didn't want to talk to her or if he wasn't really paying attention to her. He seemed to be immersed in his thoughts.

"She said she wanted to tell you."

Joan looked up at him again, slightly puzzled. "Jordan did?"

Adam nodded. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, actually," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "She said something about not wanting to abuse your trust."

Joan thought for a moment. If Jordan had said that, she was probably not talking about her stealing issue. Joan already knew about that. She was already bearing one of Jordan's secrets. Of course Jordan wouldn't want to ask too much from Joan, especially since they didn't know each other that well.

In the meantime, Joan could feel that annoying prickly sensation of curiosity at the back of her mind, which made her realize she was just dying to ask what that big second secret was. In some other part of her brain, at the same time, rumbled the echoing words of Grace, Adam, Luke and a whole other bunch of people who once or twice (or a million times) had attacked her about her very annoying habit of butting into other people's business.

Her curiosity got the best of her, nonetheless. "Why would she say that?" she asked in what she hoped was a sincerely oblivious tone.

Adam shrugged again. "I don't know. Guess she doesn't feel she's already there with you. Y'know, at that level of trust where she can share private things with you."

"Oh, but she's already in that level with you? You've known her for as long as I have!" Joan argued, stopping again. Her voice was louder now.

"You don't understand," Adam said, shaking his head. He looked like he was trying really hard to stay calm, even if Joan's nostrils were flaring at him.

"What don't I understand?" she demanded, hands on her hips. Adam let out a deep sigh.

"Okay, I might as well tell you about it, because if I don't, you're just going to keep going like this. Besides, I think it's rather important that you know."

"Tell me." She crossed her arms expectantly.

Adam waited a moment, biting his lip, as if having seconds thoughts. Then he sighed again. "Jordan's father walked out on her family when she was twelve."

It took a couple of seconds for Adam's words to sink in. "Oh," she uttered, staring at him, her eyes becoming sad, as it dawned on her.

Of course, it made sense at simple glance. They did have that in common. Jordan had no father. Adam had no mother. They were actually almost the same age when it happened. It was not the same situation exactly, but she guessed it must feel pretty much the same.

"Do you get it now?" Adam asked. Joan couldn't say anything. She couldn't even nod. She felt so stupid. More than that, she felt ashamed. How is it that she always misinterpreted everything? Her cheeks flushed and she was unable to look at him in the eye, so she fixed her gaze on the ground.

And why did she always have to make everything about her? She already knew that Jordan and Adam weren't interested in each other in any romantic way, and thanks to Jordan, Joan could be sure that Adam fancied her and no one else. So anything that they shared privately had to be about something totally different (unless Jordan had been telling her a barefaced lie, which would be an awful thing from her part).

When she looked up, they were standing in front of Adam's house. All the lights were out inside, but the front porch was illuminated by a pair of lanterns at either side of the door. Adam led Joan up the steps and they sat down on a wicker couch beneath the living room window.

"So… you guys talk about that?" Joan asked. She wished she knew what to say. This whole situation had become very off-limits to her.

He nodded. "It's nice to have someone to share those things."

Joan became saddened. Yeah, this was definitively off-limits. And it made her feel left out. "Can't you share them with me? Or someone else?" She knew the answer.

"Well, yeah, but… it's not the same," Adam said tentatively, as if he didn't want to say anything that might hurt Joan.

"Doesn't she talk to her family about it, too? Her mom and her sister?"

"Yeah. But she's talked to them all this time. I don't know, I guess it's nice to have someone else to share with."

Joan nodded, as if she thought it made sense. She actually had no idea.

A few seconds of silence went by. Joan gazed around Adam's front yard, at the many sculptures he had there. The sun was setting, so most of the sculptures seemed to disappear in the dusk; unlike during daylight, when the sun glinted on the metal and the glass, like a luminary display.

"You'd never guess it, would you?" Adam continued. He was looking into space, and Joan was looking at him. "Not from the way she is. You'd think she hasn't got a single problem in the world." He had a slight smile on his face, but his voice was low, mournful. Joan wanted to hug him. She just couldn't will herself to do it.

There was something oddly familiar about this situation. Something painful. She didn't want to think about it right now. All she wanted to do right now was go home.

"I have to go home."

She stood up all of a sudden, accidentally dropping her bag. Adam stared up at her, startled.

"Ah- do you want me to walk you?" he stammered. Joan shook her head.

"Why would you want to do that? You're already home," she replied. He blinked in response, but she couldn't read his face. "Thanks, anyway. I'll be fine," she added quickly, smiling. As she grabbed her bag, Adam got to his feet, pulling out his keys. He seemed hesitant. She lingered in front of him, looking for something to say.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. He looked straight at her, expectant. "I didn't mean to pry. I shouldn't have gone and attacked you like I did. It's just—I was just…" she stopped to breath in deeply. "Maybe I was a bit jealous."

That seemed to baffle Adam. "Jealous?"

"Maybe. I don't know." This was one of those moments she wished a meteorite would crash into earth and land directly on her. However, Adam didn't seem to get what she meant. He just shrugged dismissively and grinned.

"Never mind. It's not something to be jealous of. Anyway, I'm glad we cleared this up. I get the feeling you had quite a misconception about Jordan."

Joan shook her head. "It's not just about that. I feel terrible. I'm—"

"Jane," Adam cut her off, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. We'll talk later, okay?"

Joan swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to kiss him, but for some reason she didn't. He smiled at her again, dropping his hand to his side. "Good night, Jane."

"Good… night…" Joan responded, a little thrown off by his cool attitude, and amazed at how honest Adam had been with her, even when he was talking about someone else. She started walking away, stepping down from the porch. Not halfway down the path to the sidewalk, she stopped in her toes. "Hey, just out of curiosity," she began, turning sharply back to him, "what was it that she gave you before we left? That piece of paper."

Adam grinned knowingly, as if he had been expecting her to ask about that. "It's an essay she wrote. I can't show it to you. It's rather personal, but she wanted me to read it, because it's about… well, you might have guessed already."

"Yeah, sure. I understand," Joan said. She did, in fact, understand more than he probably thought, having read practically the whole thing by accident. Of course, she wasn't about to tell Adam she had.

"Jane, do you mind not telling Jordan? I mean, that it was me who told you? I don't want her to be mad at me for not keeping her secret."

Joan looked at him in surprise. He had been honest with her, but at a cost. Joan didn't know Jordan well enough to know how she might react to this sort of betrayal, especially from Adam, who had become her confidant. After all, he had promised to keep her secret. She suddenly blushed, feeling like it was all her fault.

"Don't worry, I won't say a word."

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Ten minutes later, Joan reached her own street, stepping onto the sidewalk. The sun had set completely, and the lampposts shone overhead at either side of the road, pinpoints against the light purple sky.

Joan feared what she would find once she entered her house. Her mother was probably back from the PTA meeting a long time ago, and considering the mess Joan had left her with, it most certainly wouldn't be a warm reception that she would be getting. Today, things definitively weren't going her way.

"Another fine mess."

Joan didn't jump at the sound of the strange voice. In fact, she had been half-expecting it. She looked to her right, and sure enough, there He was. It was hippie dog-walker God. With the six usual dogs careening in front of Him, pulling at their leashes, God caught up with Joan quickly.

"Oh, my, it's so nice to see you," she said in mock sweetness, but she didn't want to be rude. "Just don't taunt me. I'm not in the mood."

"Are you ever? Now what is it this time?"

Joan shot Him a sharp look, the same she used every time He pretended to be oblivious. She took a deep breath. "I just made a fool of myself. I always do. I don't know how I still haven't gotten used to it."

"You're only human. You have pride. It's essential."

Pride, yeah. But what did it matter, anyway? She still felt like an idiot. "I just feel bad because I feel—"

"Like you've been in this situation before?"

Joan gaped at God, not surprised, but rather annoyed. God smirked, trying not to seem like a smart-ass, even though Joan perceived Him as one like she always did.

He motioned for her to sit on the curb. He did the same, and all the dogs stopped trying to drag him and just sat in front of them, looking like children waiting for the storyteller to begin a good read. "You made the same mistake again," He told her. Joan didn't have to think twice before she knew what He meant. She remembered all of a sudden, like an embarrassing moment caught on video and played over and over again, the day she had found out about Adam's mom. It had been chance, or it had been faith. Joan leaned more towards the second option; after all, she was the pawn, and God was the chess player. He always saw six moves (or more) ahead.

It didn't feel good at all, to make the same mistake again. But how was she supposed to know? She guessed she should have known the first time, something was wrong, considering Adam's strange behaviour around that time. Then again, Adam was not an average person, and his behaviour was seldom normal. And Joan hadn't known him that well, either. In Jordan's case, it was roughly any different. Two weeks was definitively not enough time to know a person. Jordan's attitude hardly gave anything away, especially not a family crisis four years ago. What was more, according to Adam, Jordan had been keen on keeping this from Joan; whether it was really a matter of too much trust or lack of trust or something completely different, Joan didn't know. But if it hadn't been for Adam, Joan wasn't actually supposed to find out. How would she have figured it out on her own, if not?

"Listening," God said, reading her mind.

"Listening to what?" Joan asked, getting a bit exasperated. God's meaningful stare told her she should know the answer already. Joan found herself thinking back to everything Jordan had said to her. Jordan had never explained all the reasons she and her family had moved to the U.S. A family that, Joan realized until now, was lacking a father. But even that wasn't crystal-clear.

"I still don't see how you expected me to figure it out myself. Her attitude barely gives anything away." Joan caught God's meaningful look once again, one that clearly said "are you absolutely sure?". It dawned on her.

"Wait… is that why she's a kleptomaniac?" Joan asked.

"It's one the reasons, yeah," God replied. Joan was dumbfounded. There's more than one reason? she thought. It made a lot of sense now. Four years later, and Jordan was still doing it. For what?

"Why didn't you warn me? Why don't you ever warn me?" she asked. She couldn't help feeling a bit mortified.

"Do I really have to tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She looked disheartened. After all this, it would be rather difficult to be around Jordan and act like nothing was going on. She felt exactly the same as she had felt when she learned about Adam's mother. When she realized she didn't pay enough attention to others. Like she was a self-absorbed brat.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," God said, again reading her mind. "There's always a chance to fix things. It's never too late to make up for your mistakes."

"Make up for what? I didn't do anything!" She was being defensive again.

"You violated her privacy," said God matter-of-factly.

"I didn't! Adam is the one who told me everything!"

"So you didn't read the essay?"

Joan was going to snap back, but she was stumped at that comment. She felt terrible all over again.

"When she felt like she was ready to tell you, she would have." He sounded like He was scolding her, but His demeanour was sympathetic.

Joan sighed. "So I'm supposed to play dumb when she finally decides to tell me about it?"

"Not at all. Be honest. She'll appreciate it."

She gave him a tired frown, as if she couldn't take any more information. They fell quiet. She rested her chin on her knees and stared at the dogs, all of them staring back at her with their tongues hanging out of their open snouts. One of them yawned.

"Do you feel sorry for her?" God asked, breaking the silence.

Joan thought for a moment. "Not really, no. I mean, why should I? She obviously doesn't feel sorry for herself."

"Exactly. It's not like she never did. But it changes, you know. She grew. Not to mention she had a lot of support from her family. Especially her mom and her sister."

Joan nearly let out a snort. She thought of Giulia and the attitude she had displayed that afternoon, and had trouble thinking of her as a supportive sister. She guessed there was more to her than they had had a chance to meet.

"It's a lot like what happened with Adam," God continued, catching Joan's full attention. "He felt sorry for himself for a very long time. In fact, it wasn't until you helped him uncover the truth that he stopped feeling bad."

"Of course," Joan muttered in realization. "He thought it had been his fault his mother..." she trailed off, unable to say it. She shook her head. "I still don't understand why he would think that."

"You obviously wouldn't. But you helped him overcome his fears and find the truth once and for all. You liberated him."

Wow. Joan hadn't actually thought about it that way. She only remembered being worried sick about him, thinking he would actually hurt himself, all because of an unopened letter that had been haunting him for three years.

"It's a long road to travel to overcome pain; it's hard at first, but it gets easier near the end," God said, His voice hollow. "Everything that has a beginning has an end."

Joan was speechless, and she got an odd feeling in her gut. God's words sounded awfully cryptic, even when He smiled warmly as he said them. In a daze, she got up and straightened her jeans where they had bunched up at her thighs. God stood up, too, and the dogs followed suit, wagging their tails energetically.

"I should probably go. Mom's probably waiting for me so she can yell."

"Would you blame her?" God said, switching back to His usual snippy self. Joan glared. She watched him start to lead the dogs away, when it occurred to her.

"Hey!" she called out, then felt dumb, "um… is there any specific reason why she has a… a painting of a devil… that she made herself… hanging on her bedroom wall?"

God pretended ignorance. "What do you mean?"

"What do I—don't pretend you don't know what I mean, mister Almighty," Joan scolded. "You know very well I mean… is there any reason why I should be… frightened?"

He shook His head. "Has she ever given you any reason to be frightened?"

"Well, that bit about the shoplifting was a bit scary, yeah," Joan explained matter-of-factly.

"You think you should be frightened of what a person believes in?"

"People can do strange things or scary things because of what they believe in."

"Ah, you hit the nail right in the head," God said in a strange cheery-educational-TV-show-host voice.

Joan frowned and threw up her arms. "I don't even know what I'm talking about!"

God rolled His eyes. "No, no reason to be afraid. Jordan just likes the devil. As in, she thought it painted a good picture. But she doesn't actually believe in it."

"She doesn't?"

"C'mon, a cosmopolitan girl raised by a liberal mother upon anarchic principles, while growing up in the shadow of Vatican City, living outside an organized religion, breaking the long chain of devoted Catholics that trace back all the way to their Roman ancestors?" He asked dramatically. "Of course not."

"Wow," Joan voiced, raising her eyebrows. "Does she believe in you?"

"Yes, she does."

"Really? In spite of everything you just said?"

God said with confidence. "Sure. Everyone does, one way or another. I go by many names. In Jordan's case, she believes in me as the universal higher force that lives in everything and everyone, that created everything that has been, everything she knows… and everything she will know in the future."

"Oh, you're so modest," Joan teased.

"There are levels to everything, you know. Levels in which people can do things, whether good or bad or scary, because of what they believe in," God explained. "You've done some pretty frightening things because you believe in me. That doesn't mean you're a person to fear, does it?"

Before Joan could respond, the dogs took off running, yanking God behind them, practically dragging Him down the street until Joan couldn't see them anymore.

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This has been, so far, the most annoying chapter I've written for this story. It was long and too much blah, blah, and I got stumped a thousand times. So glad I've put it behind me.

Next one should come soon enough. This one would have been longer if it weren't because I decided to chop off the last part and post it in the next chapter. So technically, half of next chapter is done. And also, next chapter, I will introduce new characters, new looks for God, and a soundtrack for this series, put together by The Original Chemist.

Mike's note: I would like to point out that I'm proud of Alexz. Jordan's story is supposed to be a little tragic (a little, not too much), but judging from the way she writes about it in this part (and the next one, but you'll see about that later), rest assured that you won't see a sort of parallel between Jordan's family crisis and Iris's family crisis. I don't know about you people, but I was outraged at the way the writers of the show introduced Iris to us, as if they wanted us to feel sorry for her and accept her, like "oh poor little new character with a sad story, we must make her feel welcome or she might never fit into this world". I am so glad she disappeared. Her story was just pathetic.

Thanks for reading! See you next time!

In the darkness