Chapter Three: Blessed

"You have forgotten what you are." - St. Severinus Boethius

Three Days Later
"-Girardi. Miss Girardi?"

Joan shook herself awake, a gruff looking doctor standing in front of her. "Huh?"

The woman smiled, shaking her head as she marked something down on her clipboard. "Another restless night, huh Joan? Why don't you go watch TV with the other girls."

Still confused, she turned to look back at the room behind her – a clean, pale colored recreation area she had seen in the psychological movies Luke liked to watch. Five or so girls sat quietly around the couch, watching the old television that filled the whole room with the sounds of morning cartoons.

"-need to put her back on Ambien. Her doctor says she's still have nightmares about Rove." Joan glanced back at the nurses before turning towards the hallway of rooms a head of her.

Her feet scuffed the floor, her body feeling drunk off medication. She wandered toward a door near the end of the hall, its white wash finish shadowed as it sat ajar. Lazy sounds filled her head as she touched its wood surface, pushing it all the way open.

The rush of memories was sudden – the body of her friend hung lifeless above her bed, beautiful brown hair cascading into his purple face. He had done it with sheets – crisp white sheets that smelled like lilac. Notes, beautiful words that rustled in her room as the door opened and she felt her world freeze. She hadn't broke down immediately though, she remembered she had stepped into the room and touched his gray sweatpants, her hand grazing his feet and soft hands.

Joan's voice echoed in her head, memories lacing into one another like fine thread. "I'm Jeanne D'Arc!" the orderlies had dragged her kicking and screaming, her thin arms breaking loose once or twice – long enough for her to rush back into the recreation room. "I have come to take back France! These walls cannot harbor my faith!" The sudden desperation of her friend snatching her off the coffee table kept her from the nurses as they watched Adam Rove, drag her into a corner and calm her down. His soft hands stroking her hair made ever inch of Joan tingle with loss.

Back at the empty doorway, she stared into the room, remembering how she screamed for days. She had screamed so her prayers could be heard over the nurses. Over the pills. Over everyone else's. Why had God taken away her 'right hand'? How would she take back France now without him by her side?

Someone shook her awake. "Joan?"

Joan woke, her body going limp in Luke's arms. Somehow, she had ended up outside of her room, the door wide open as she stared back into it. The hall was dark but she could tell it was Luke who had woke her up. "-my head."

"I'm sorry, I forgot your not suppose to wake sleepwalkers. You just scared me." His arms pulled her up halfway so she could rest her head on his stomach. It was a strange position to be in – they had never been the sort of brother and sister who would clutch each other when the times were bad.

"What did I say?" she whispered, both wanting to know but fearing the answer.

Luke's arms held her tight. "Why has God forsaken me-" something broke in his voice. "You had a dream about Rove again didn't you?"

With all her might, she couldn't stop herself from crying. "He hung himself- we were in a mental institute. He said- he said he was alone."

For the longest time, they sat on the floor and listening to their heartbeats…

Arcadia High
Adam couldn't help but notice Joan was not herself today. She sat beside him in Chemistry, pale and plain, like the gray sky outside the lab windows. She kept her head down, focusing on the paper in front of her as she scribbled things down. It wasn't until he noticed the words going down on the paper weren't even in her own handwriting – but in barely readable scratch. "Joan?" he looked at Grace who had been watching too.

"Hey." Grace shook Joan's shoulder – their friend just wobbled a little, her hand gripping the pencil tightly. "Joan?"

Joan looked up slowly, her eyes glazed over from fatigue. "What?"

"You're acting spacer than Modern Art Boy over there. You okay? You look like you haven't slept in weeks." Grace leaned closer trying to get a look at her friend's face.

The weary sixteen year old turned away, looking over at Adam with questioning eyes. "I had a dream about you- last night." She squinted, her hand crawling over her head. "My head-" sitting up, she leaned back a little to stand, but her body turned too far and Joan fell awkwardly onto her back, her elbow slamming onto the tile hard. She gave a short strangled cry before sucking in a deep breath. "Ow ow ow-" she squinted and laughed as if she were five again. "Angels-" she reached up with her other arm and tried to touch the lights in front of her eyes. "Adam look, angels-"

"Luke!" Grace called out as she quickly knelt down beside her friend. The class came alive around them as they turned to watch the sudden fall play out.

Adam wasted no time picking her up off the floor, her head drooping down and rolling onto his shoulder. "We need to get her to the nurse."

"No shit." Grace breathed, letting Luke into the small space they had between the table and the wall."

"Did anyone bring a lunch today? Or- I don't know- a coke? Something?" Luke took Joan's other arm and slung it over his shoulder, slowly lifting her up with Adam. "She didn't eat this morning- and I don't think she ate anything last night."

Ms. Lischak blocked the doorway as the four went to leave. "You can't just take her! What happened?"

Grace opened her mouth to snark back at her Chemistry teacher but Luke used his status in the class to charm his way through. "The fumes made her sick Ms. Lischak, we're making sure she gets to the nurse alright. We need Grace to open doors."

Ms. Lischak thought about it briefly before stepping aside. "I'll call Mrs. Johnson so she will be ready when you get there. Don't drop her-"

They were already out into the hall when Joan groaned again. "Somebody make the light stop spinning- I'm not floating am I? Cause that's kinda freaky."

Her feet dragging behind them, Adam and Luke carried her down the hall toward the office. Grace kept Joan awake, a strange babbling coming out of her. "Hey, hey- Joan? Jo? Look at me- yeah look at me. Lights still bothering you?"

Joan nodded. "Mmhmm."

"Well, I'd beat them up for you, but it would hurt a lot." Grace's hands searched through her backpack, while she kept her eyes trained on Joan's. "Keep your eyes open Joan, I know its hard."

"Mm- I wanna go home." Joan looked at Adam. "Luke, you think if I play sick, mom'll let me stay home today?"

Luke pulled his sister's face away from Adam's and toward his own. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she'll cave."

Grace pulled out a pair of sunglasses and placed them on Joan's face. "There. World not so bright?"

Joan looked back at Grace and laughed happily. "Grace! Grace there you are! You sure did give the doctors a start today." She face changed from light to dark in a matter of rapid eye movements. "But- but- where's Adam? He was with you wasn't he? No- no he wasn't- he got in trouble didn't he? He stole paint from the art room- and he- he painted a beautiful sunny field filled with- with- daisies! I saw him do it! The watch nurse fell asleep and he did it last night! I caught him and he told me it was a surprise for me. He wanted me to always see a bright sunny day- like the day we we're allowed outside in the garden."

She looked lost in the delusion for a moment before Joan turned her head toward Adam and gasped happily. "Adam!" her body suddenly gained what strength it had been conserving and leaped onto him. "I was so worried!"

Unable to support her, Adam and Joan fell onto the floor outside the office. "Joan, what the hell are you doing?" Adam looked partly scared yet almost in awe of the girl on top of him.

Joan's face was inches from his. "I'm sorry! I was so worried about you! I had a dream! You were so upset about something- you were so sad." Her eyes grew soft. "My dream… it said you hung yourself- and I thought- I thought when you weren't with Grace-" her consciousness began to fade again and a mixed expression filled her quickly paling features. "Adam?" she stared at him. "What's going-"

"I don't think this is the Nurses office, Mr. Rove." Vice Principle Price shadowed the two on the floor as he lifted Joan off the floor and began to take her into office.

A familiar face appeared outside in the hall, a sad expression haunting His face. Joan, her dreams still haunting her in her delusion state, grabbed onto the metal of the doorway and pulled Price back toward the door. "God!"

The familiar face wasn't startled at all. He knew she would call for Him- and He wished He could ease her pain. You wanted an answer, Joan. This is part of your quest.

Tears began to form in her eyes. "Don't go! Please God, don't leave me! Who are these people? Why am I getting their dreams?" she reached toward him. "Somebody stop Him! He'll leave if no one notices Him!" she tried to kick her legs, but she was too weak to really even hold onto the door. "God!"

Price pulled her arm away at the door and looked back at the stray student who she had started calling to. "Mrs. Girardi, calm down. You're delusional. That's just another student- and you're probably scaring him." However, the Vice Principle gave the boy a suspicious glare before taking Joan into the nurse's office, laying her down on the med bed.

Joan would not have it; she grabbed him by his shirt and tried to shake him. "You have to believe me! That's God! He tells me to do things- to- to help people! I'm not crazy! I'm not delusional!"

Helen Girardi pulled her daughter's hands off of Price's shirt and tried to calm her down. "Joan! Calm down!" she looked up at Price and shook her head. "I'm sorry, she's been going through so much lately." She caught a glimpse of Adam in the doorway, his body language awkward and afraid. Grace and Luke were already sitting in the nurse's office, Luke by his sister, while Grace sat with her knees up to her chin in a small waiting chair. "Adam." Helen reached for the boy attentively.

He slowly stepped into the room, skittishly dodging Price like the plague. The Vice Principle surveyed the room, considering sending all three back to class, but the calm they put Joan Girardi in seemed safer than nothing at all. "Excuse me, Mrs. Girardi, I have other business to attend to. You won't be needing me." He pointed a finger at the three conscious students. "But I want to remind you that this isn't free time. One-"

The nurse cleared her throat. "Gavin- no need. I will make sure they keep in line."

Somewhat satisfied, he left them alone. Joan was already calmly drinking a coke Grace had stashed in her bag. Helen drew Adam towards her, taking his hand in her own. "Adam, would you do me a favor?" The teen nodded quietly. "I need you to hold Joan's hand while I go call Kevin." He gave her a pleading look. "Adam, please? She's calm now, and as long as you don't provoke her, she won't become delusional. As soon as she drinks the coke she'll be able to sleep, anyways."

Caving, Adam took Helen's seat and Joan's hand.

Helen kissed her daughter on the head, reaching over to squeeze Luke's hand as she left for the main office. Joan barely noticed the sudden change in people around her. She let herself relax, realizing she had messed up royally. "I should have eaten mom's oatmeal today." She whispered, her head leaning towards Luke.

He squeezed her free hand, giving her look over. "Joan- this isn't just Hypoglycemia. It just triggered something bigger."

She didn't pull her hand away. "I'm not crazy."

Before Luke could push for an answer to his unsaid question, the nurse came over to the med bed and began to take her blood pressure. "Joan, breathe deeply for me. I need you to calm down, you're going to pass out- my God." The nurse looked Joan in the eye. "Your sure this is only a missed breakfast?"

Joan made a small whimpering sound in the back of her throat, closing her eyes behind Grace's sunglasses. "Can I sleep now?" her hand slipped out of Luke's grip she turned on her side, toward Adam, curling up into the fetal position. "I told you should have stayed home."

"I know." Luke replied, but he was lost in thought, piecing the things he knew about health to make anything he could, clear.

Adam's hand unconsciously laced itself into Joan's, a guilt forming behind his eyes. "What's wrong, Joan?"

The wreck of a girl looked over at him with tired, trouble eyes. "Everything."

Too drained to elaborate, Joan gave up making sense of her mission. The mission, at this point was too confusing for a sixteen year old girl who hadn't eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours and had had more visions that she cared to ever have again.

Maybe she would do better tomorrow. Maybe. She hoped.

She was getting use to war by now. The stench of blood, smoke, bile and loose waste tickling her nose. The sight of corpses at her feet, friend and foe staring up at her like the porcelain dolls she used to get for Christmas when she was little. However, this time, the world was different. She was still in the jeans and t-shirt she had worn that day to school – she was a white mark on a black surface. She stood above it too, the silent hill overlooking the carnage as if it were a quiet lake.

A gentle hand ran over her hair and grazed the small of her back. "Why are you still fighting, Jeanne? You can't keep helping others with the edge of a sword."

"This isn't me." She looked over at an unfamiliar young man whose hand had not left her back. He was a tall blond, face of a twenty something year old. He looked like someone she would have met at the park playing with his dog. The only odd thing about him was the large belt he wore over his jeans, it hung crooked on his hips, a golden glow coming from the side that hung low.

The man looked down at her, long blond hair falling into his face as it escaped his ponytail. "Of course it is. This is still a part of you Joan, even if your physical hand didn't wield the blade. Aren't the battles still haunting you? The lives of your men? Your friends? How many times are you going to come back before you realize that France is free and your duty now is to aide your fellow man? You are not a soldier, Joan, you never were. You have always been a little girl trying to help your people."

Joan looked back at the battlefield and felt sick. "But that's what I thought He wanted. Its- all I could think of. First the war- then the" Joan shook her head. "Why am I reliving other people's lives?"

He looked back at her. "Maybe they're trying to tell you something, Joan. Something they couldn't tell each other until it was too late."

"Who are you?" she asked, turning to him.

He smiled softly, a calm bravery clear in his features. "I am called Michael." Leaning over, his lips pressing against her forehead and she felt something in her settle down. "Find the road less traveled, Joan. I will walk with you all the way." Stepping away from her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave her a relaxed smile. "Open your eyes."

Suddenly, a flash of wings and a flaming sword blinded her before Joan found herself sitting upright in her bed, a soft rain falling outside her window.

Her room was dark, the only light coming from the desk lamp. Her radio played low, a station her mother listened to humming softly along with the rain. It was cold in her room for once.

A figure stirred in the doorway, a familiar face looking up at her from the floor. "Jane?"

Inside her heart, something swelled, filling her up with a warm reassurance. "Hey Adam." She pulled the covers tighter around her legs. "How long have you been sitting there."

Standing up, the modern artist pulled her desk chair over to her bed and sat down. "Since school let out. You're mom said I could." He pulled down the hood on his sweater but zipped it up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Feeling self-conscious, Joan pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "I just had a- a weird dream." Content now to look over at him, Joan felt her guilt and worry win over what reassurance she had had before. "I'm glad-" she closed her eyes and looked down at her hands. "I'm glad you're here."

"What's the matter, Jane?" His hand almost made it to hers, but it stopped short, resting on the soft blanket surrounding her. It was clear he hadn't fully forgiven her, but the friendship between them was suddenly more important than apiece of twisted metal. She was Jane again, and that's what mattered most.

Joan smiled, its falseness clearer than Adam's emotions, but something in her was ready to come out. Eyes lifting up to his, she made her confession in a strained whisper. "I talk to angels."

Adam took that in, his hand inches from hers. It seem as if he were thinking back to the day they met, lacing through every moment he was near her. A pain flickered across his deep eyes when he crossed over the memory of Joan destroying his art, but it soon died away and his hand seemed to inch even closer to hers. "You said- 'But, what if you actually could talk to angels?'" He looked up at her, studying her eyes. "That's why you said that."

It was sudden, his hand barely moved over hers before she clutched it tightly and leaned over to embrace him. Adam was left speechless as he sat, one hand caught awkwardly between them while the other rest against the back of her head. For once, she was shaking and he felt like he was the strongest thing in the world.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he shoved down everything that told him to push her away. He had been holding onto metal for too long.

"You're blessed."

Somewhere in the Girardi house, someone poured over a thick book. A highlighter slowly going over Undifferentiated Schizophrenia.