_The Look-Alike Series_ Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit with Ben Yee Season 4, episode 6: "Bare Acquaintances" prose adaptation by Austin Loomis Cast: Quinn Morgendorffer, Daria Morgendorffer, Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer, Jake Morgendorffer, Jane Lane, Jodie Abigail Landon, Lynn Cullen, A.P. McIntyre, Tom Sloane, Scar, Warlock, D.J., William Loman Jensen, Ted DeWitt-Clinton, Trent Lane, Jesse Moreno (non-speaking), Nick Campbell (non-speaking), Max Tyler (non-speaking) "Come as you are, as you were As I want you to be As a friend, as a friend As an old enemy" -- Nirvana, "Come as You Are" ACT 1: WHAT THE HELL HAVE I "Time may change me, but I can't change time" -- David Bowie, "Changes" In the kitchen of Morgendorffer Home Base, Quinn was burbling away in a happy sort of frustration. Daria was reading _50 Ways to Tune Out What Irritates You_ with an expression that showed she hadn't learned enough from it yet. Helen and Jake looked like they were *trying* to pay attention to their daughter and the process was killing them by inches. "And it's not like I don't *trust* him or anything -- I mean, like, he's my *boyfriend* and who can you trust if not your *boyfriend,* after all...?" "God, your parents and the President." Daria thought about that a moment. "No; wait..." Either Quinn was ignoring that or she just didn't hear it. "But it's just so *hard*; I mean, Halloween is only a few days away and because of this stupid...Pigtail-on and Gal-latte dance..." "That's Pygmalion and Galatea..." That was nearly a groan. "What*ever*; some pair of ancient Greek geeks." Daria voiced an almost pained sigh. _Will things *never* change?_ Over her half-sister's inner torment, Quinn burbled on. "But he won't tell me what he picked as my costume -- just said that it was *perfect* for me and I'd see when the time came! I really really like and maybe even love him and whatever but sometimes...ooh!" _Must...change...subject...*now*..._ Helen thought as her brain threatened to go on strike. "So what are *you* doing for Halloween, Daria?" "Well, since I haven't got a Pygmalion and would rather chew my own arm off than be seen at another Lawndale High dance, I'd vote for either handing out candy to the little brats so they don't egg the Lexus or standing on Lynn's roof paintballing the TPers." "Daria!" "That's the spirit, kiddo!" "JAKE!" "What? We're supposed to encourage the girls, right?" "Daria, *please* be serious for a change. We'd just...feel more comfortable if we knew you were expanding your social circle..." Daria sighed. _Let's tell her *something.*_ "Well, maybe Jane will organize a party or something." Her next comment could have come out a *little* (okay, a lot) less snide, but why? "She does that." Helen began to glow. "That's *great,* sweetie!" She reached for her purse. "Here; let me contribute to the snacks and things..." Daria was appalled enough not to care if it showed on her face. _What the hell have I just let myself in for?_ * * * And so we find her in Pizza King, sitting across from Jane, looking morose. She threw the money at Jane, who counted it and said, "Whoa. Your mom's on a *serious* trip about this, isn't she?" "I suppose I can't blame her. I haven't exactly been a scintillating conversationalist since we got back from that damn tour." "And that's different from normal *how,* exactly?" Daria's look was all the reply she needed. "Oh, I get it." "So I have two choices. Use the money for my own purposes and lie..." "...Giving me a cut for providing an alibi, of course..." "Of course." She took a moment to nerve herself, then vented a resigned sigh. "Or I persuade you to organize this party." Jane raised an eyebrow... ...and just then, Jodie approached. "Did you say something about a party?" She sighed and sat down without asking or *being* asked. "I have *got* to get out of the house sometime this week -- the parents are going *nuts.*" Daria could sympathize ever so slightly. "The SATs?" "Or at least the fact that I'm not destroying my physical and mental health in the cause of prepping for them. I really need a break." She had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry to butt in on you like this, guys, but..." Lynn arrived, looked at Jodie with a puzzled expression, then sank down into the booth with a sigh. "You know how I feel about this, so don't facefault at me when I ask but...Jane, any chance of hosting some kind of Halloween bash?" The facefaults happened anyway. Daria was the first one who could verbalize the sentiment. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Lynn?" "Look, this is *not* my idea." She turned to Jane. "And I'm surprised *you* don't know about this yet." "Huh?" "The Back Alley Name-Droppers want to do the Halloween party thing. They got half of Oakwood High involved and came to *me* assuming I could host the the thing since Mom's absent most of the time..." "*All* of the time...?" "If I told them *that,* Daria, I shudder to think. That house is only ever getting wrecked at my hands if I can help it. -- Anyway, I told them no but they insisted I had to know *someone* who could host it and..." She trailed off. "Well," Jane concluded, "that about tears it, Daria. I say we party." "One thing. Please...set...a theme...to this thing." "Do I even want to know why?" Daria wondered. "No." "Well...how about keep it simple?" Jodie suggested. "`Come As You Truly Are.' *You* guys would be good at that. I've never known anyone who knows who they are the way you guys do." Daria, Jane and Lynn exchanged looks. * * * Daria was sitting on Lynn's bed. Jane was sprawled out on her stomach along the foot. Lynn was at her computer. "I don't believe I'm doing this," Daria said to nobody in particular. "I know," Lynn confessed. "How the mighty are fallen." "Well, I can't fit that many people into our house!" Jane pointed out. "And Trent'll want to invite people too!" "Yeah, I can hear him now. `Party,'" Lynn rasped in a passable imitation of Trent's pack-a-day voice. "`Cool. I'll call the guys. We'll show you how it's done.' Like I haven't been able to party him under the table for two years at least..." she snarked. She noticed the looks she was getting. "I told you about the summer I came to Lawndale, right?" The looks became blank. "Then I must have had a reason." She turned back to her computer. "So. What are we all wearing to this thing?" Daria had to be honest. "Would you believe...I'm not sure?" "Tougher than you'd think at first, isn't it?" Lynn admitted. "What's the problem?" Jane barked. "We are who we are! The Flack-Jacket Mafia! The...uh..." She stopped in the face of the deep, cold silence that greeted her. The name had, after all, stopped being all that funny around the time the late Angela Li turned it into a weapon against them. Now that they knew what Jerome Peregrine Smythe, Lynn's (and Daria's) father, did for a living, it was probably the opposite of funny -- or beyond that. Funny and sad were on the same face of the coin compared to this adjective, as good and evil are *both* opposite to the Things from the Dungeon Dimensions in the Discworld books. _Changing subject *now,*_ thought Daria. "So...who *is* coming to this thing, anyway?" "Goat-boy and Mara," replied Lynn, "have invited some of the dregs of the Oakwood scholastic pecking order...Joe McKeon invited Matt and the American Band-scags..." Jane was somewhat surprised, but managed to snark, "Ooh. The venom." "Bite me. It's fun." There was real viciousness in Lynn's tone. Daria was almost scared. "Uh..." A sigh. "Sorry. I just hate being pressured into this. I--" There was a *thud* as a ladder hit the window frame. "Hey, Sam!" Daria and Jane smirked in unison. Lynn (who's kind of like Clarissa, or maybe Sabrina possessed by a demon) snickered as A.P.'s head popped up over the windowsill. He gave them a scathing glare. "*Not* funny." Lynn watched him clamber in through the window. "I dunno -- I thought it had a certain chuckle-factor." "Yeah, but you...you're...what's that sad-word?" "Applied to me? Probably sadistic." "That's it! You have a sadistic sense of humour." He stepped up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened a little, but tolerated it, and he was nerved enough to kiss her on the cheek. "Hey ho, Purple Peril." Lynn allowed herself a small smile at the kiss. "Salutations, Maverick. -- Any of the Advanced Math squad you want invited to this stupid party?" "You're *kidding,* right? I mean, one of them does *taxidermy* and keeps wanting me to..." His ears caught up with the back half of the sentence. "What party?" "Celebration of the dead souls that will supposedly wander the streets in three nights' time. But we, instead of wearing masks to make them think we're one of them and leave us alone, will reveal our true selves to them in the hopes that they will drag us down to hell." Everyone stared at her. _Let's move on from this,_ Daria thought. "Halloween party. `Come As You Truly Are.'" A.P. blinked. "Oh. Cool." He shrugged. "Can't be hard. I mean, what, we're just...us...right?" "Yeah," Lynn muttered darkly. "Just us. Whoever *that* is now." That got her some very worried looks that she didn't even notice. * * * Tom stood at his locker, not very pleased about his situation, inwardly mourning the change of surroundings from prep school. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last either, he found himself wishing the Falcon had done something (relatively) quick and merciful involving boiling oil. Suddenly, the locker slammed shut -- Tom wheeled and found himself face-to-face with a *very* angry Psycho-Maverick. "Hey," he said nervously. "I don't want to be here. But I don't want *her* anywhere near you either. So..." He thrust an envelope at him. "Here." Tom looked at the envelope. "What's...?" "Invite to a damn Halloween party. We all kinda figured that it'd be useful to have some guy packing at this thing in case something went wrong -- bad at the whole shooting thing as you are..." "Hey, who got himself blown out a window?" "I *hit* what I aimed for. And I saw your targets. -- Anyway, come if you're coming. I don't care." He turned away. Tom watched him, noticing that he was maybe just that bit too angry for only having to invite Tom to this party to be a problem. "What's wrong?" he called out. A.P. froze, paused...then turned around. "You ought to know. It's *your* damn fault." "WHAT? I..." He figured it out. "Lynn." "She's still not right. Will she *ever* be? *You* tell me, smart guy!" Tom looked away. A.P. made a derisive noise and turned to leave. This time, Tom let him go. ACT 2: NOTHING AS IT SEEMS "On an evening such as this It's hard to tell if I exist Pack my bags and leave this town Who'd notice if I'm not around?" -- Barenaked Ladies, "Pinch Me" Jane stood at her easel, painting an emaciated ghoulish figure, tracing out the shadows of the ribs. "Okay, good; parallel to the ribs. Last thing you want is the knife getting bound up -- you'll lose your weapon and a lot of time and you can't afford that, y'know?" Memory carried her back to the dojo above The Blue Motorcycle. She was standing, knife in hand, in front of the practice dummy, with Scar behind her. "You're an artist, aren't you?" the other asked in an assessing tone of voice. "How'd you know about that?" "What, you mean besides the three bags of art supplies they brought in with you?" Jane nodded sheepishly. "It's simple -- you're a natural with a knife." She gestured to Jane's right hand, where the artist held a knife with practiced ease. "Seems you've held one before. And that means you're either a cook, an artist or a street hood. And Lawndale hasn't got enough hood-streets for that last to be an option." Jane raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh." "Seriously. You follow the lines of the body well too. Like you're practiced at it. Never get embedded in the ribs, never have a hard time aiming for the big vessels or tendons...you've done Life Study?" "Oh yeah," Jane nodded, remembering. A slap on the shoulder. "That's probably better for you. When this crap is over, you'll still be an artist and nothing but. This is an extension, that's all -- it'll be easier for you to handle in the long run." After a moment, she quietly added, "Almost wish your friends were so lucky..." Jane blinked...turned to Scar as if to ask... ...and found herself sprawled face-first on her bed. She lifted her head to look at the half-finished image of ghoul-boy, blinked at him speculatively ... then smiles and got up, going back to work. * * * Daria walked through the front door...stopped in her tracks...then walked the rest of the way in, a lot more slowly. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the house was different somehow. She approached the stairs, her eyes falling on the family portrait on the wall...and she facefaulted. "What...the...*hell*...?" It was the same composition as the last picture in her "[DEL: Magical :DEL] Masochist's Memories" scrapbook -- the four of them standing in front of the house in Highland and the [DEL: For Sale :DEL] SOLD sign -- but two of the main players were different indeed. Instead of holding hands with Jake Morgendorffer, Helen nee Barksdale was standing next to Jerome Smythe, who had an arm around her shoulders. Helen had a hand on Daria's shoulder, as she should have -- but Daria was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Lynn. Their arms were folded and their stances slightly arrogant, but they both had their father's Mona Lisa smile. Quinn was nowhere in sight. "My god..." Daria bolted up the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her, burst into Quinn's room... ...then froze in the doorway and facefaulted again. This was *not* Quinn's room anymore. The walls weren't beige *or* black, but charcoal gray; the trim, drapes and carpet were bright purple. Quinn's makeup center -- the Temple of Groom, as Daria called it -- was gone, replaced by Lynn's desk; Lynn's bookshelf, that Temple of Subversive Literature, stood where the mirrors used to be. There wasn't a stuffed animal or boy-babe poster to be seen. Lynn was sprawled out on the bed, reading _Killer Arguments: How to Deal with Your Temperamental Assassin_. She looked up as the sound of Daria's arrival penetrated her concentration. "Hey, Sis. I thought we agreed to knock." Daria was taken somewhat -- okay, totally -- aback at Lynn's casual tone, not to mention her phrasing. _Sis?_ "Uhhhh...hey?" Lynn blinked at her. "Any reason for the deer-in-headlights look?" "Uhhhhh..." There was a thump at the window, and A.P. clambered in. "Hey ho, Purple Peril!" Lynn got up quickly and stepped over to him. "Salutations, Maverick." They kissed in considerable detail. Daria stared -- she'd never seen them be so overt. A.P. broke the kiss, but kept his arms around Lynn. "Hey ho, Erudite Emerald. Ready for the date-thing?" "Uhhhh..." Daria replied, still trying to find her footing but damned if she was going to let it show. Lynn sighed. "Remember, double-date-cum-training-session? All three Godfather movies at Playhouse 90? Followed closely by a Quentin Tarantino-fest in the Smythe living room?" Piku piku. _Smythe?_ "Double...date...?" "Yes, double-date; no, you're not backing out of it; and no, we're taking the Volante so we don't have to ride in the heap." Daria gave up. _Burroughs said it best: play it cool and maybe I will get the orientation before the Owner shows._ "Right. Uh." "So...like it?" Quinn was standing in the doorway with almost a hurt look on her face. Daria decided to see if this was a fulfillment of Burroughs' promise: _Instead of yelling "Where Am I?" cool it and look around and you will find out approximately._ "Quinn...what's going on?" "Well, *duh,* Daria!" A gesture to Lynn. "*She's* your sister now. You're...*God*, what's that thing they always do on those geeky sci-fi shows? Uhhhh...In an alternative *reality* or something." _And *Quinn,* of all people, had to explain this to me? This must be another damn dream sequence. I begin to weary of this motif._ "And in this one... I grew up with Lynn? As a *Smythe?*" "Yeah, well, in *this* world Mom and Dad divorced when they found out she was pregnant with *you* and that Falcon guy divorced Lynn's mother and Mom married that Falcon guy and you and that Lynn girl were raised almost like *twins* or whatever!" Quinn paused for breath, then sniffled, "An' *I* didn't get born at *all.*" Daria was alarmed, partly by the change of world and partly by her younger sister's mood. "Quinn..." "*Anyway,* so you both know about all that gangster stuff and have since you were *really* little so you're all pretty happy about the whole thing. And *she*..." A gesture at Lynn. "Well, just *look* at her!" Daria looked at Lynn Smythe, frozen with her arms around A.P., looking more comfortable than Lynn Cullen had ever seemed to her. "Yeah." "And I guess if you had been living this life you'd be happier too. Right?" "I ... I don't know," Daria confessed, not really wanting to consider it. "Well, maybe think about it. Hell, *I* may not want to know but you *have* to. Might make a lot of difference, really being her sister." Usually, it took some severe shock to jolt Daria out of a dream. This time, she just said, basically, _Okay. Waking up -- now,_ and she was awake. She sat up in bed a long time, just thinking about it. *Would* she have been happier as Daria Smythe than she'd been as Daria Morgendorffer? If she'd been living that life all along, with nothing to compare it to, quite possibly. The big question for this Daria, though, and the one that made her shrink hardest from embracing thatworld outright: what'd happened to Jane in that timeline? Had she and Daria ever met? Had Jane ended up the way Celeste showed her, going through self-esteem class over and over until she stumbled onto the track team? And "the heap" -- did that mean Daria Smythe was dating Tom? Now that would be *beyond* surreal for Daria Morgendorffer. The kind of questions that keep you up at night. * * * _In A.P.'s room, the closet door was shut. A small whimper came from behind the door, from the air mattress where he slept..._ Up in the Inner Sanctum, A.P. stil had his shirt off; Kes had been checking him for sprung ribs when D.J. and Warlock showed up. Now D.J. had just handed the Maverick an envelope. "What the hell is this?" he demanded. "Deposit. You offed Jensen for me. I guess you get the pay." A.P. looked at the envelope. Then he threw it back at D.J. and turned his head away. "Did you ever ask yourself why you did that?" Warlock asked him. "Did *what?*" A.P. answered the question with a question as he stood up, only dimly noticing that the girls seemed to have frozen in time. "Turned down the cash for a hit I didn't really make?" "*You* pulled the trigger, Maverick." "It wasn't a `hit,' though. It was..." Warlock raised an eyebrow. "Revenge?" "Basically. You didn't see what they *did* to her." The eyebrow went higher. "Point. -- But you *did* kill him." "I know -- I was there. But it wasn't a hit. It was personal. One of those...crimes of passion or something. You know, the kind of thing people get off lighter for in court because everyone knows that sometimes people can't help themselves." "Would you do it again?" "If the situation was the same? In a heartbeat. Any other reason ...well, I'll see. Not something I'm planning on, to be honest." For a moment, Warlock looked at him. "Okay," he said at length. "It wasn't a hit." _The closet door fumbled open and A.P. staggered out. He looked at himself in the small square of mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door and blinked. Then he shrugged and went back into the closet (so to speak), shutting the door behind him._ * * * _In the Chamber of Dark Mysteriousness, mundanely known as Lynn's room, a lump of blankets moved restlessly...._ Lynn stood in the doorway of a room in the Merritt compound and peered in at the crumpled figure in the straitjacket who'd been flung into the corner of the holding cell like so much dirty laundry. "So now you know how it feels to break," said a mocking voice from behind her. "I did *not* break," Lynn said, more to herself than to him. Jensen came to stand in front of her, in the same condition he'd been in the last time she saw him -- i.e. with his head half sheared off. A look of sadistic amusement was somehow discernible on what was left of his face. "Don't lie to yourself. You broke. If it hadn't been for that Maverick git, you'd still be where you were here." He gestured to the figure in the corner. Lynn closed her eyes. "I. Did. NOT. Break." "You just...bent a little, is that it?" He chuckled derisively. "You were *gone,* Smythe. And there's no coming all the way back." Oozing false concern, he oiled on. "Maybe you should have given in to it. Less pain for you in the long run, having to put together all those pieces of yourself and not being sure where they fit; not even knowing if you're going to like the results of all that work..." Lynn rounded on him. "I DID *NOT* BREAK, I SAID!" Her voice echoed round the room: _said, Ed, dead._ Jensen stepped toward her, eliciting a shudder. "You just keep telling yourself that when you try to hide the cracks in your repair job from the rest of the world." He put a hand on her shoulder. With the speed of a striking viper, she smacked the hand away. "Don't touch me." What would have been an evil smirk if he'd had more facial parts to show it. "Don't much like to be touched any more, do you?" "...*You* don't touch me. You're dead." The smirk widened. "To the world, I am. In your mind? I'll live forever." Unspoken, but hanging there nonetheless, was the word _checkmate._ _Lynn sat up with a start, eyes wide and frightened as she mulled over what her subconscious had just shown her. She hugged her knees to her chest and began to shudder uncontrollably._ ACT 3: WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? "Come and join our party, dress to kill..." -- The Who, "Eminence Front" Daria looked at her closet speculatively. Eventually, she shook her head, walked out and shut the closet door behind her. Lynn was looking at her own wardrobe. Eventually, she started just pulling things out of it at seeming random and tossing them onto the bed. A.P. was bashing away on his computer, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he should be getting a costume ready. Jane pulled an artist's smock out of her closet, then reached for the box of Rit on the table. At Lawndale Commons, in the inevitable Cashman's Daria was talking to a well-groomed saleslady with (apparently) a surgically grafted smile, who nonetheless looked completely appalled as Daria spoke. After a while, though, the horror left her face and she started to look interested. At HourGlasses in the RxPlex, Lynn pointed something out to Beth, who looked as freaked as all get-out. Trent, wearing a towel, stepped into the tub, then frowned and lifted his foot out -- it was now bright red. Jane dashed in, pulled out a dripping wet piece of newly-crimsoned fabric, then noticed Trent standing there and shoo'd him out by flapping the fabric at him, splattering him with red. He frowned at her as he wandered out. A.P. was still working away, apparently oblivious. In her room, Daria finished putting her hair up in a tidy bun. She blinked at her reflection, then nodded with a hint of satisfaction. Down in the Dungeon, Jane was digging through a trunk, flinging out old items of clothing, hats and so forth at random. Watching her, all five members of Mystik Spiral had gotten covered in old clothes, and they were getting very irritated. Later, in Chez Cullen's bathroom, Lynn was holding a bottle of something and smirking at her reflection. On the counter before her sat several other smaller bottles of various bright colors. A.P. looked at his watch, blinked once, and headed for his closet. * * * Jane was sitting on the living room sofa next to Jodie, the two of them surveying the decorated Casa Lane. Jodie was wearing a baggy T-shirt reading _Sorry if I look interested. I'm not_ and the ratty jeans she'd started wearing about the time she finally quit caring about her parents' expectations. She carried a clipboard and had a pencil tucked behind her ear. Jane was wearing the leather trousers she'd bought in Mississippi and her normal black T-shirt with a bright red artist's smock over the ensemble and a beret on her head. She looked at Jodie curiously. "What exactly are you supposed to be? Again?" Jodie looked sheepish. "Well...you saw the Muppets?" Jane raised an eyebrow as she nodded. "Well, I guess I'm Scooter." Jane tried to hide a snicker. Just then, the doorbell rang. In her best faux-perky tones, she said, "Let's get this party started; RIGHT!" Jodie rolled her eyes at Jane, and they headed for the door... and opened it to find Quinn standing there, wearing an anime-style seira- fuku and a hopeful expression. Ted walked up behind her after a moment, wearing the white tunic and tan leggings of a young Tatooine moisture farmer on the brink of saving the galaxy. Jane and Jodie blinked at them. Jodie decided to take refuge in banality. "You're...not on the guest list." "I *know,*" Quinn confessed, "but we took one look at the school thing and it just seemed so *lame* all of a sudden and the costume Ted picked out for me was really better for a `Come As You Really Are' party and I heard Daria talking to you on the phone the other day and I *know* I shouldn't have but anyway we thought you wouldn't mind if we kinda crashed the party and--" Jane flapped a hand to stem the rising tide. "Okay, okay, okay!" _How *does* she say all that on one breath?_ Aside to Jodie: "Put her on the list -- it's the only way we'll shut her up before 2001." "Go in," Jodie offered; "the party hasn't really started yet but--" "GREAT! Come *on,* Ted! I want to request a song!" With that, Quinn barged in. Ted hung back, looking apologetically at them. "She...gets better. Sometimes. Since she came back from the summer, she has deep moments but a lot of the time, she seems to want to avoid that kind of thing." Jane looked a little guilty; Jodie and Ted looked askance at her. Ted shrugged and went on into the house. Jodie jotted down a note on her clipboard. "First crashers and the party hasn't even started yet." She thought about that. "I think this means it's a success." Jane shrugged, and Jodie went into the house. "No," Trent fairly snarled, "we don't *have* the freakin' *Backstreet Boys!*" "Well, then, what about N*Sync?" A desperate plea. "JANEY!" Jane turned around to go in and do damage control. "Hey ho, Art-Smart Scarlet; and way to live up to your name!" Jane turned around again to see A.P. ambling up the walk, wearing his normal black jeans and boots with a T-shirt that said _Will work for bandwidth_. Over the whole ensemble was flung *his* Mississippi acquisition, the black leather duster. "And what are *you* supposed to be?" He glanced down at his clothes. "Boots and jeans as standard. T-shirt -- geek. Duster -- to show that I can kick ass if I have to." He shrugged. "Psycho-Maverick." Jane blinked, but couldn't fault the logic. "Okaaaaaay..." She got a look over his shoulder and did a facefault. "Oooooooooooboy." A.P. turned around -- and found himself face to face with a girl whose blond hair was streaked with rainbow colors, held back in bobby pins so that most of the hair fell on the left-hand side of her face, and seriously frazzled. She wore a ragged baggy purple sweater and a tattered skirt over what looked like a fishnet body stocking. Her eyes are two different colors, probably due to contact lenses. But on closer inspection, the facial features gave her away as Lynn. But only just. "Gihh..." A.P. philosophized. "Ummm..." A *ping* started forming in Jane's head. "Waitaminit, wait, wait, I know this one..." It clicked. "Sandman. Delirium." Lynn gave a sort of one-shoulder shrug. "WHY?" Lynn just looked at her for a moment. Then she pecked A.P. on the cheek and brushed past both of them into the house. A.P. looked at Jane. "Does that actually *work?*" Jane thought a moment, then, with a somewhat sad expression, replied, "Yes. I think maybe it does." * * * Later, in the living room, Mystik Spiral was pounding out a not-too- shabby rendition of Faith No More's "Introduce Yourself." Jane walked over to Daria, who was wearing an emerald-green suit and her normal boots, with her hair tied in that bun. "I'm guessing Erudite Emerald." "And the Smythe Consigliori, if asked, yes," Daria admitted. Jane seemed alarmed. "DARIA!" A sigh. "She's my sister, Jane. That's all. She's...she's done a lot for me. And if she needs me to stand by her, dammit, I'm going to." "...You...*do* realize that if you go in, I go in with you, if they want me?" Now Daria was alarmed. "Jane..." "Well? Maybe it won't be an issue. She doesn't *want* in." Daria was watching Tom -- in total MIB-wear, much like he must have appeared as Agent Sloane in A.P.'s _X-Files_ dream -- watch Lynn like a hawk. "Yet." There was an itchy pause. "So who *are* we?" Daria sighed again. "We are the Flack-Jacket Mafia." She thought about that. "And we'll be lucky if we make it through adulthood alive." They exchanged a look as the band finished the song. "Hey Mr. Enigma, hey Mr. Bigtme, hey Mr. Epic, what's going on? Introduce yourself (right on)!" ADAPTOR'S NOTES The bit about "play it cool and maybe I will get the orientation before the Owner shows" is from "Wouldn't You?", the "Atrophied Preface" near the end of _Naked Lunch_. Briefly: he was coming back from the john in his villa in Tangier, stoned out of what passed for his gourd, and suddenly didn't know where he was, wondering if maybe he'd stumbled into somebody else's room. He decided, however, that freaking out would not help him any. Good advice for most occasions. "I begin to weary of this motif" is from _Waiting for Godot_. Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV Networks, a Viacom company. (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.) Monty Python quotes and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd. They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction. The characters of Lynn Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson. The characters of Warlock, Scar, DJ and Jensen are copyright 2000 Canadibrit and/or (respectively) Ben Yee, Kara Wild, Shelby McGowan and Tony Jensen. This storyline is copyright 2000 Canadibrit and Ben Yee and was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is copyright 2001) with their permission. All other characters, locations and incidents (of which I don't think there are any, actually) are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any coincidence of names is regretted, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, or wandering the night in ghostly torment is either purely satirical or not my fault. As a "substantially transformative" derivative work, this story is protected by the Supreme Court's decision in re Campbell v. Acuff Rose Music. It may be freely redistributed as long as this copyright notice is maintained intact, but may not be in any way redistributed for profit without the permission of the legal owners of all concepts involved. The present author hereby gives permission for any and all keepers of Daria fanfic pages to archive this work (as if I could stop them). Any publication of this story for profit without the express written permission of Austin Loomis, Janet Neilson, Ben Yee and MTV Networks (like any of that'll happen, especially the last) is strictly prohibited, and violators, if I ever decide to track them down, will be strung up by the thumbs, beaten about the head and shoulders with a free-range carrot, and then handed over to corporate lawyers who will do terrible things to them. On purpose. Austin, and good day. Al D T0 W- Q Fw^Fr O+ Ow+OH+Of m c- MV+ F:111,208,313 BB+ FCT -DT+ q fJ^fj^fD