Chapter one: the aftermath

It had only been a week since the smashing of the Ascension incident, but for Joan, it might as well be the longest week she had ever lived through, and still she thought she barely made it through the week without losing her sanity. School was torture for a whole new reason, and that reason was, of course, Adam.

Even in she hadn't been grounded after all, she wished she was. Grounded for the rest of her high school years. It would justify why she spent the following days in a lethargic state, coming straight home from school. She became taciturn, hiding in her room, lying in bed all day, with the drapes closed over the windows and the radio tuned into a blues station. She only came out to go to the bathroom and down to the kitchen to fetch some water and food, thus missing several decent meals, as she was too depressed to eat or at least sit at the table, with everyone pretending not to look at her and making small talk, of which she took no part.

Will and Helen were starting to get very worried, going past the stage where they considered it best to let Joan cope with her issue alone for a while, hoping it would pass, and onto the one where they though it would be better if they talked to her once and for all (Helen suggested family therapy, but Will voted it out, saying it was a little rash). However, they couldn't find the proper moment to do it. When Joan wasn't gliding in a zombie-like state through the rooms, she was somewhere within the confinements of her own quarters. In the afternoon, while Will was still at work, Helen would stand outside the locked door, debating with herself over whether she should knock or not. Because sometimes, while she stood there, she would listen for a moment, and she would hear Joan sobbing quietly over the sound of the blues from the radio.

Neither Luke nor Kevin had been able to exchange words with their sister, either. Partly because they thought Joan barely showed any signs of consciousness about her surroundings. But Luke didn't think he was the most appropriate person to talk to Joan about the issue. As for Kevin, he usually would be the older brother to come in and cheer his little sister up. But he didn't even fully understand what was going on in Joan's life, or what she was feeling. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so sad, and it was starting to affect him.

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"You should talk to him."

"Sorry? Talk to who?" Luke turned to find Kevin reaching for the cereal box. No one else was in the kitchen, but still they spoke in hushed voices all the time. They were cautious about talking about Joan in the house when she could shuffle quietly into the room without them noticing.

Kevin wheeled himself to the breakfast table and poured himself a bowl. "You know, that guy Joan's sulking around for. What's his name again?"

"Adam."

"Yeah. Maybe if you talk to him, he'll come around and talk to her," Kevin suggested. "Maybe he'll forgive her for what she did. Isn't that why she's so depressed?"

"I guess," Luke replied hesitantly, munching his cereal. He wasn't very good with feelings. How was he supposed to talk feelings with a guy, especially a guy like Adam? "And what do I tell him?"

"I don't know… tell him how bad Joan's doing, maybe that'll bring him around."

"It's not that easy, Kev."

"How do you know?"

Luke was about to answer, but Joan dragged herself into the kitchen at that moment, and he snapped his mouth shut. Kevin gave him a sideways glance.

"Good morning, Joan," he said.

"Morning, sis," Luke said automatically.

Joan slumped down on a chair and said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the table. She didn't look very good; her hair was tousled and she had dark circles under her eyes. Luke and Kevin exchanged another look.

"Want some cereal, Joan? I'll get it for you," Kevin offered. Joan attempted a nod, but it wasn't a very clear one. Kevin frowned in concern and went to get a bowl anyway. He brought it back and gingerly poured cereal and milk into it. Joan only stared.

"Gotta have breakfast, Joan," Kevin continued. "Most important meal of the day."

His sister didn't move, it was almost as if she couldn't hear him. Kevin put on a puppy dog face and looked at Joan. "Please, Joan. Eat something. Do it for me."

For a moment, Joan was still spaced out. But she returned Kevin's gaze, then took the spoon and began to eat slowly. Kevin smiled and patted her arm. "Thank you."

Luke came to sit across from Joan, munching his own cereal quietly while staring back and forth between his siblings. They sat in silence for a moment, until…

"Where are mom and dad?" Joan spoke softly. Her voice was groggy.

Kevin and Luke tried not to look too surprised at the fact Joan had spoken for the first time in days. The last thing Luke remembered hearing her say was a sheepish "hi" to Adam the day after the incident; Adam had ignored her completely, so Joan hadn't even tried talking to him again, or talked to anyone at all, for that matter.

Luke promptly snapped out of it. "Uh, dad got an early call from the office, and mom had something to do before going to school."

Joan nodded in acknowledgement. "I don't feel like going to school today," she mumbled.

"Come on, Joan, maybe things will get better today. You wouldn't want to miss that out, would you?" Kevin said, and he glanced at Luke, perhaps waiting for him to say something too.

"Maybe something good will happen today," Luke added quickly.

"Yeah, maybe I'll get hit by a bus," Joan said sourly. She dropped the spoon into the bowl and got up. "Well, what's the point of putting it off any longer?" Luke wasn't sure if she meant school or death by a bus. He watched her put the bowl in the sink, and met Kevin's gaze. They both wore sympathetic expressions.

"Do it today," Kevin mouthed. Luke sighed. Somehow he doubted Adam Rove would care about what he had to say about something he hardly knew about.

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Steadily and patiently, works for me. I'm gonna carry on steadily and patiently. Otherwise, this story will fall into oblivion. I really love it when I manage to post a story whole. I'm not usually one to finish stories. Half a gazillion unfinished stories are a proof of that.