Author's Note: Technically an outtake from OTP that I've re-purposed into a one- shot (having originally been written to follow the Christmas morning sequence in Chapter 3), 'A Handshake With God' features potentially controversial subject matter that could be offensive to some readers. It's not integral to read this to understand or appreciate upcoming developments in OTP. Please feel free to skip it if you're not comfortable with irreverent religious discussion—particularly if you don't have a sense of humor about the Catholic faith. However, as a lapsed Catholic who still very much considers himself a Christian (in spirit, if not in practice), please understand that I wrote it with nothing but love and fondness for both the religion, and those who practice it. Absolutely no offense is intended.

For those keeping track, this one-shot actually represents a slight skip forward of about three months from the last chapter of OTP. Alex and Justin's budding relationship is still secret to everyone but Harper. And while they've acknowledged that there's definitely something more than sibling affection between them, neither of them quite knows what to do about that, yet.

(And yes, before you ask, OTP is coming back. Promise.)

Happy Easter, and may the Force be with you!

The hidden eggs having all been found, and the chocolate bunnies having all had their heads bitten off—because Justin insists it's more humane that way—Theresa orders everyone but Harper upstairs to get dressed in their good clothes. And though Alex kind of despises the idea of putting on stockings and a dress just so she can waste half the day in church, she knows better than to argue by now.

It takes forty-five minutes for them to finally get out the door, most of which is spent tearing the loft apart in search of one of Max's good church shoes—they eventually find it in the dishwasher, and nobody bothers to question why—so St. Joseph's is packed to the rafters by the time they pile out of the Bert the Cab. And though Harper's Passover-themed outfit draws more than a few bewildered stares from the crowd, Father Greenwald greets her warmly and compliments her on how festive she looks as they shuffle through the door. It makes Harper smile so wide that Alex halfway believes she's on the verge of converting.

"I don't see any empty pews left," Justin groans, standing on his toes to peer over the crowd as they huddle together at the back of the church, with barely inches between them and the other families around them. "Looks like it's standing room only. I told you we should have left earlier."

"Hey, as long as we're not stuck with the other losers in the overflow room, I'm good," Jerry says.

"Ugh, but I don't wanna stand the whole time!" Alex whines, stomping her heel against the stone floor. "Listen, Nothin' But Flapjacks is, like, right around the corner. What say we go get brunch, and come back for the next show?"

"Alex!" Theresa snaps, backhanding her daughter lightly on the shoulder. "It is not a 'show'. It's a joyous celebration of the resurrection and ascension of our Lord."

"Yeah, but they joyously celebrate it again at one-thirty!" Alex protests. "And if God really wanted us to sit through it without flapjacks, then why would he have put this church within convenient walking distance of them, huh? Answer me that."

"Your grasp of theology both amuses and frightens me," Justin deadpans.

Jerry tilts his head to one side as he mulls this over. "Y'know, now that you mention it, I really could got for a—"

"Can it, Jerry," Theresa snaps. "We're staying."

"Hey, you know what I don't get?" Max asks, apropos of nothing. (And here the rest of the family exchanges glances over the top of his head, because wow, there's a loaded question if Alex ever heard one.)

"What's that, Max?" Harper wonders aloud, because she hasn't lived with them quite long enough to know better, yet.

"Well, Christmas is all about Jesus being born, and Easter is all about how he dies and comes back, right?"

"More or less, yeah," Justin says, eying his little brother warily. "Why?"

"So how'd he grow up and do all that stuff in just four months?" Max says, with a puzzled frown. "I mean, I get that he's supposed to be, like, the Son of God and all that, but geez...was he taking growth hormones, or what?"

Theresa stares at him blankly for a moment, and opens her mouth to retort, but thankfully the organ cuts her off as it calls the congregation to attention, playing the first few bars of the opening hymn. The crowd parts as two altar boys and a girl precede Father Greenwald down the aisle towards the altar to begin the mass.

"And you complain about my grasp of theopoly?" Alex mutters over her shoulder to Justin.

"Theology, Alex," Justin leans forward to murmur into her ear. "It's a belief system, not a board game from Parker Brothers."

"Shhh!" Theresa hisses at them, fixing them both with The Look. And that's the last thing either of them say for awhile.

For the better part of the next hour, Alex shifts from one foot to the other in her uncomfortable church shoes, grimacing at the beads of sweat the run down her spine as she overheats in the in- between-winter-and-spring coat she's wearing over her dress, and hyper-aware of Justin's arm pressed tightly against her own. Bored and listless, she lets her mind wander as she follows the mass on autopilot, saying 'amen' and 'Lord hear our prayer' and 'praise be to God' in all the right places, whenever Justin nudges her, usually in the right order. By the time Father Greenwald begins his sermon, she's exhausted, her feet are killing her, and she's beginning to regret that extra-large mug of coffee she drank right after she got up. Unconsciously at first, she leans into Justin's side, if only to ease the pressure on her poor, aching feet for a moment...

Justin stiffens immediately, grimacing he cocks his head towards her slightly, as though he's watching her out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Alex licks her lips and starts to shift her weight off of him, when Justin surprises her by slipping his arm behind her and tucking it around her waist. Alex's breath hitches in her throat as he pulls her back toward him, supporting her weight, even though his feet have to be at least as sore as hers. She hesitates a moment, then allows her body to relax against him, going so far as to rest her head on his shoulder and close her eyes, breathing in his scent as Father Greenwald's gentle sermon rolls over them. He smells like Ivory soap and aftershave, chocolate bunnies and home. Smiling faintly to herself, she exhales a happy little sigh of contentment.

Yellow, she thinks automatically, as he tightens her arm around her in response. And she lets herself doze.

Justin nudges her again, sometime later—after exactly how long, she's not entirely sure—so she drowsily opens her eyes and lifts her head a little to see what she's missing. And she catches Theresa watching them intently, eyebrows raised in shock. Alex's stomach seizes for a moment in panic, every muscle in her body screaming at her in the guilty impulse to shove Justin the everloving hell away from her. But before she can act on it, Theresa just smiles fondly at her stricken expression and turns her attention back to the altar, raising her voice to join the congregation in reciting the Our Father, her eyes dancing as though she's laughing inwardly at some private joke. Probably because she thinks she's caught them being swept up in the miracle of Easter, or whatever, and actually demonstrating some brotherly-sisterly affection for a change.

Well, she's half-right.

Swallowing past the heartbeat thudding painfully in her throat, Alex forces herself to tear her gaze off their mother, and finds her eyes drawn to the crucifix that hangs above the altar, with poor Jesus nailed to it, all half-naked and bloody and looking altogether bummed out by the experience. (Shyeah, 'joyous celebration', her half-latina ass.) And though she hasn't believed in a long time—not really, not they way Justin and her mother do—or said an actual prayer in even longer, she finds herself moved to talk to him, the way she used to when she was little.

'So hey, listen,' she thinks, without taking her eyes off him. 'I know it's been awhile since we've talked, and that I've never exactly been the best Catholic, or whatever. And maybe I have more than a few issues buying into this whole 'organized religion' dealio you've got going on here...but I'd like to think we've more or less been cool up 'til now, you and me, right? I mean, you do know I mean well, yeah? Most of the time, anyway?'

(Jesus doesn't say anything back, of course. Because, duh, she's a wizard, not cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. But she continues nevertheless.)

'Right, so here's the thing...if you can hear me like this, then it's a good bet that you know what else is going through my head right now, too. And, y'know, I do get that, technically, it's supposed to be all kinds of naughty!bad!wrong. Like, H-E-double hockey sticks wrong. And, OK, so maybe the whole right-wrong thing is fuzzy for me, sometimes, but...the thing is, it doesn't feel wrong the way it should. And one of the problems I have with this 'theopoly' schtick is how many things it says are bad that I really think you'd actually be totally cool with, as long as they didn't hurt anybody. Like magic. Or gay pride week. Or people who dress funny and believe in other religions, and stuff, like Harper. Or, y'know, democrats...'

Justin nudges her again, lightly. In response, she mutters a distracted 'and also with you' in the wrong place, causing Max to snort with laughter, and Justin to shake his head.

"Would you pay attention?" he hisses in her ear. "You're making us look like jerks, here. Even Harper is getting the responses right!"

"Oh, that's only because she's crushing on the priest!" Alex stage-whispers back.

Justin raises one eyebrow and swivels his head to look at Harper, who blushes darker than the roasted beet built into her authentic Seder Plate hat

"I am not!" she protests.

"Oh please," Alex scoffs. "He's a cute, unattainable older guy who was nice to you. He might as well be wearing a blinking neon sign that reads 'Harper Finkle, please stalk me.'"

"Wait, you think Father Greenwald is cute?" Justin asks, a weird edge to his voice.

"What, are you kidding? Look at him up there, he's a babe. Right, Harper? Back me up, here."

"Well, I...suppose... he does have a certain, George Clooney-esque appeal about him," Harper murmurs, with a slight smile.

"Snkt, see?" Alex chuckles, elbowing Justin in the ribs. "Told you. She's seriously itching to defrock our priest, dude."

"Uh, guys?" Max breaks in. "I'd ixnay the sexy priest talk, if I were you. People are staring, that vein in Dad's forehead is starting to throb, and Mom's making The Face again."

Alex, Justin and Harper exchange panicked glances, then fall silent and stare straight ahead as Father Greenwald rambles on about putting the Christ back into Christmas, or something like that. Alex pretends to pay rapt attention until she's sure her parents aren't watching anymore, then raises her eyes back up to the crucifix.

'All right, so enough beating around the bush, already. Let's just cut to the chase here, huh?' she thinks/prays/whatever. 'I'll make you a deal: if what I'm thinking, or feeling, or thinking about feeling is seriously as evil-with-a-capital-E as everybody makes it out to be, then go ahead and smite me. Strike me with lightning, make me spontaneously combust, or go real old school and turn me into a pillar of salt, or whatever. And I'll be fine with it, seriously, because God only knows I have it coming for something. Just do it now, before I take him down with me, OK? Because if you don't do anything, right here, right now, I'm gonna have to assume that you're totally cool with it, comprende? So let's have it, dude. Now or never.'

And then the church falls deathly quiet as Father Greenwald invites the congregation to join him in a moment of silent meditation on his sermon. And Alex wrenches her eyes shut and worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits to be spectacularly obliterated. She feels Justin turn his head towards her as he apparently notices, his grip tightening on her waist.

"Alex?" he murmurs into her hair. "You OK?"

She doesn't answer right away, waiting a measure of three heartbeats to see if the ground is going to crack open at her feet and swallow her whole, or if she's about to burst into flame. But the only thing that happens is that Max burps loudly, then grunts as Jerry and Theresa simultaneously reach up to smack him upside the back of his head. Alex giggles and opens her eyes, sighing with relief as she looks up into Justin's concerned grey-green eyes.

"I'm fine," she whispers, with a smile.

Justin holds her gaze for a moment before the corners of his eyes relax. He smiles slightly back before they both turn their attention back towards the front of the room, him towards Father Greenwald, her towards the crucifix hanging above him.

'OK, so we're good then,' she thinks to it. 'Just remember that we have a deal. I'm not saying I'm actually going to do anything, mind you—because, wow, I can't even begin to imagine how that would even work—but just, y'know toying with the idea? Like hypothetically, or whatever? You're fine with that. That's it, you can't change your mind now. No takebacks, I mean it.'

"Amen," Father Greenwald says then, his voice echoing in the ponderous silence of the church.

"Amen," Alex says enthusiastically in response, along with Justin and the rest of the congregation. And to her, it's like she and Jesus have just spit in their palms and shook on it.

"Alrighty then, that's over with!" she beams, turning to her family and brushing her palms off as though after a hard day's work. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'mma go get my flapjack on, now."

"But, Alex...we're not done yet," Harper says under her breath. "We still haven't done the Eucharist!"

"The what now?" Alex frowns. "Oh, you mean that whole deal where we shake hands and say 'May the Force be with you?' I'll just high-five some people on the way out, it's all good."

Justin exhales sharply, and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "She's talking about Holy Communion, Alex. The body of Christ?" Then, off of Alex's blank look, he adds: "The little white cracker with the cross on it?"

"Ohhhhhh, right," Alex says disappointedly, pouting as she turns towards the front of the church, where the congregation has started filing out of their pews to line up in the middle aisle, ahead of Father Greenwald. "Well, I guess it's kinda like a flapjack..."

"Would you knock it off?" Jerry leans forward and growls between clenched teeth.

"You know what else I've never understood?" Max asks, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Nobody wants to know, Max," Justin says quickly, before Harper can open her mouth.

"This whole 'body of Christ' thing," Max replies, regardless. "I mean, not only is our whole religion, like, totally based on cannibalism—which is actually kinda cool, really—but doesn't this mean we're all getting infected?"

"A-ha-ha-ha, infected with the Holy Spirit, he means!" Theresa says, laughing and smiling tightly at the surrounding parishioners, who have started shooting them strange looks. Reaching forward, she wraps her arms around Max in front of her, and squeezes him tightly. "Don't you, mijo?"

"No, mom, I mean with the zombie virus," Max says, matter-of-factly.

"The what?" Justin and Alex ask in unison, before anyone can stop them.

"The zombie virus!" Max repeats, speaking louder to be heard over the organ music that has started to play. "C'mon, dude dies, looking like that, then rises from the grave three days later with holes in him? If that doesn't say 'zombie', I don't know what does!"

The organ music breaks off suddenly with an errant note, as practically the entire congregation turns to stare at them as one.

"Oh, what? Like none of you have ever thought about it?" Max says into the uncomfortable silence that follows. Glancing around, Max locks eyes with his siblings. "Alex, Justin...you guys have dance -battled zombies before. You know what I'm talking about!"

"Honey, I think it might be a good idea if we skipped Communion this year," Jerry murmurs to his wife.

"Gee, Jerry, y'think?" Theresa snaps, fixing all of them with The Look. Flushing darkly and grabbing Max by the arm, Theresa turns and drags him bodily behind her towards the exit, the crowd parting hurriedly before them like a bow wave. Smiling tightly, Jerry takes a few steps backwards, waves at no one in particular, then turns and all but runs headlong after them.

"Right on, flapjacks here we come!" Alex grins, then jumps up to slap the palm of a tall man who, inexplicably, has raised his hand to wave back at Jerry. "May the Force be with you!"

"Oh, we are so going to Hell," Justin mutters as he follows quickly behind her, head down. "Every single one last of us."

"Pft, speak for yourself, dude," Alex says to him, linking her arm through his. "Not me. The J-Man and I? We have an agreement. You're on your own."

Justin frowned at her in confusion as they walked through the door together, side-by-side. "But...wait...I'm the J-Man..."

Left behind, Harper watches after them and heaves a heavy, long-suffering sigh. Shaking her head, she gathers her bitter herbs-themed shawl around herself, follows the Russos towards the door, then turns and looks up the aisle towards a bewildered-looking Father Greenwald.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality!" she calls, raising her hand and wiggling her fingers at him in farewell. "Um, if you'd ever like to discuss the possibility of me converting, or anything else for that matter, I'd be more than happy to—"

"Harper, stop flirting with the priest and c'mon, already!" Alex calls back.

Harper freezes, bites her bottom lip, then shrugs and waves a final time at Father Greenwald.

"Happy Easter, everybody!" she calls, as she backs hurriedly through the door. "Shalom!"

—30—