Mirrored Delusions 8?

Rating: T Pairing: Cute Boy God/Joan (mostly undertones until the end)
Summary: After being diagnosed with Lyme Disease, Joan looses her faith as well as her perceived role in the world. Thinking she hallucinated her missions from God, she turns away from those she loves. Can God himself convince her to start living again? Or will she continue to ignore him as a mere figment of her imagination?

Closure and A New Beginning?

Joan's alarm rang the next morning at eight o'clock, and for the first time that summer she woke up feeling refreshed and full of energy. Although she was still disappointed at Adam's behavior, the discussion they had the night before gave her a bit of closure, if for no other reason than that Joan didn't think there was anything she could do to save her relationship with Adam. Of course the fact that he still believed she was insane and had been talking to 'God figments,' his words not hers, didn't help bridge the ever-lengthening gap between them.

Joan didn't blame Adam's reluctance to believe entirely on his trust, or lack thereof, in her. Perhaps if the subject matter of her figments had been different. Maybe if she had been 'imagining' Elvis or fairies or something equally as harmless Adam would have believed. If not believed then at the very least pretended he did for her sake.

Instead it was God, the all-knowing none-telling pain in Joan's backside. Considering what happened to Adam's mum, Joan got that he had some issues with the divine 'It.' Hell, if Joan's parents died she knew that the confrontation afterwards would be a sight to behold, probably including lots of yelling, tears and a bit of bitch slapping depending on the incarnation God chose. She just couldn't imagine slapping little old lady god, she was just too nice, and if she hit the little girl she'd feel like scum. So theoretically she could understand Adam's feelings, since why would a god who let people hurt so much that they killed themselves possibly have to talk about with Joan Girardi?

She understood that question entirely, and since God never shared his divine plan with his instruments, Joan was as much in the dark as Adam was. Hell, half the time Joan didn't think there was anything special about her at all, so she had no idea what God saw in her.

There were great minds all over the world, and even in the next bedroom over, so why not talk to one of them instead? She was sure that they might understand the assignments better, or at least not make such a hash of them. Then she just shrugged and got on with it because He obviously had his reasons, and just because Joan wasn't aware of what they were didn't mean they weren't valid.

"Introspective today, Joan?" The radio weatherman spoke, butting in to her thoughts rudely.

"Oh it's you." She answered grudgingly. There was a pause of dead air before He continued to speak, leaving Joan a bit uncertain if she'd hurt his feelings. She decided that was ridiculous with a laugh and quite arrogant of her besides.

"You were happy to see me yesterday."

"Sorry I was just thinking about something. I didn't mean to be a grump." Joan offered vaguely. "So what's the assignment this time?"

For the second time in twenty seconds there was silence, and this time Joan became concerned. It wasn't like God to be reluctant to give her 'suggestions.'

"I want you to think about something for me."

"Okay…" Joan answered impatiently. "What?"

"Do you want to be my instrument?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"A better question is do you choose to be my instrument, with all that entails, wholeheartedly?"

"You never really explained what it entailed before. Just told me to do things." Joan answered cautiously, not altogether sure where He was trying to lead her.

"Yes and now you have seen the consequences, the ripples if you will. Both good and bad, and it's only going to get more difficult. So the question stands: Do you choose to be my instrument?"

Joan gaped at the radio, and wondered how such a promising morning could become so somber so quickly.

"It's your decision Joan. You've got a little bit of time left."

With that ominous pronouncement he was gone, and Joan was left wondering a little time left until what?

She had a lot of thinking to do.