_The Look-Alike Series_
Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit with Ben Yee
Season 4, episode 8: "Secrets and Lies"
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis

"Lies, lies, lies, yea-ah (They're gonna get you!)
 Lies, lies, lies, yea-ah (They won't forget you!)"
	-- Thompson Twins, "Lies"

Cast: Daria Morgendorffer, Lynn Cullen, Jodie Abigail Landon, A.P.  
McIntyre, Anthony DeMartino, Michael Jordan MacKenzie, Timothy O'Neill, 
Jane Lane, Tom Sloane, Andrew Landon, Michelle Landon, Rachel Landon, 
Kevin Thompson, Jack "Beefy Boy" Paterson, Joey, Jeffy, Jamie White, 
Robert

ACT 1: IT'S TOO COLD

"She won't tell me lies
 She want to see me smile..."
	-- Jerry Cantrell, "My Song"

It started out as a history class like any other.  Daria and Lynn were 
sitting side-by-side in the front row, with Jodie between Daria and the 
door.  A.P. was sitting behind Lynn.  DeMartino was writing something 
on the board.  "To *continue* our unit on the role of *corruption* on 
the US government..."
	"I thought *I* was supposed to be the bad influence," Lynn 
whispered to her half-sister.  Daria just smirked.
	"...now *open* your books -- *if* you *feeble* excuses for 
*students* even know *how* -- to page 412, the *Prohibition* era..."  
His voice dropped into that low hiss that's almost scarier than all the 
shouting.  "...and the rise of the Sicilian Mafia families."
	"eep..." the look-alikes eeped in unison.

				      * * *

Daria and Lynn trudged shell-shocked down the hall.  A.P. was walking 
backwards in front of them, looking concerned as he speed-ranted away.  
"Hey look itsnotabigdeal!  Imean itsnotlikeyoullgetwrittenINTOthestupid
book."  He paused for them to not reply.  "Andhey purpleperil yourdad
mustvetoldyouallABOUTthatstuff, easyAhere!  Andyoucanhelpmeout."  Another 
unused wait.  "Youreyeslldryoutifyoudontblink yknow."  They seemed quite 
willing to take the chance.  "GUYS!  Wouldyoujust..."  He tripped over 
a garbage can and fell over.  "ACK!"
	Daria and Lynn walked on, seeming oblivious.  Jodie approached 
with Mack, who helped A.P. up.  "You okay?" he asked.
	"Are *they* okay?" added Jodie.  "They look--"
	"Me?" A.P. interjected.  "Nothing hurt but my pride.  They..."
He stopped himself.  "...they've been through a hard time lately.  Uh...
you know...all that stuff in spring and..."  The bell rang, and he looked 
*very* relieved.  "Gottagobye!"  He took off at an ungainly but fairly 
fast trot.  Jodie and Mack shared a this-isn't-over look.

				      * * *

So there they were in English class.  Again, Daria and Lynn were in 
front; this time, Jodie was behind them.  "Now, class," O'Neill said, 
in his usual rapturous form, "who can name me one of the most common 
themes in Shakespeare's works?  Kevin?"
	"Uh...long funny words?"
	"An...interesting perspective...but not what I'm after.  Lynn?"
	"Life weird -- usually in the sucky way -- and the only way to 
cope is murder, suicide or denial of self."
	For a moment, all was silent, as something in Lynn's tone hit 
the Worry button on everyone in the room.  Daria looked sharply at her 
elder sister.
	O'Neill stared at her as well, lower lip atremble.  "Well," he 
quavered, "...yes...I suppose y-you *could* say..."  Hoping to forestall 
the eventual crying fit, he glued on a desperate hopeful grin.  "Anyone 
else?  Dar--"  Just in time, he stopped himself.  "Jodie?"
	Jodie looked at Daria and Lynn as she spoke.  "Family."  The 
look-alikes exchanged a look -- _Oh, God, not this again..._
	_Thank *goodness.*_  "Exactly!  So I thought a *great* way to 
make a start on our unit on _Henry V_ could be for you all to burrow 
down into the roots of your family trees!"
	Daria and Lynn went very still and very pale.  "If we dig deep 
enough," Daria asked with her deadest pan, "will our family tree die?"
	"If not," Lynn replied in much the same lack of affect, "there's 
pesticides."  She thought a moment.  "Or groundfire."  Unnoticed by them 
due to their distraction, Jodie was now looking at them in almost an 
assessing way.

				      * * *

In the cafeteria, Daria and Lynn were again sitting side by side, picking 
at their "umfood" (as Warlock might call it), every move they made 
unconsciously synchronized.  Jane and A.P. were watching them, amusement 
warring with concern.  Jane was the first to speak.  "Yo...guys?"
	"Mmm?" Daria and Lynn asked in unison.  Jane chuckled; A.P. 
didn't.  Daria and Lynn, still moving like synchronized swimmers, each 
raised a fork laden with what could conceivably be mistaken (by someone 
either suitably hungry or sufficiently desperate) for mashed potato.  
They blinked at their forkfuls.  They put the forks down.  Then they 
sighed in unison.
	"Hey ho, Twisted Pair!"
	"Get stuffed, Techno-Weasel."
	A.P. sported a blithe grin.  "Beats the Bobbsey Twins."  He noted 
the looks that was getting.  "Eee?"
	They finally realized what they'd been doing, looked at each 
other and...piku piku.  "Did we just...?" Daria asked.
	"And then with the...?"
	"Oh *Christ,*" they chorused.
	"Now that you're back among the living," Jane seemed happier, 
"mind telling us what's bugging you so bad?"  Tom arrived just then, 
looking dejected, and sat next to A.P., obviously not thinking.  A.P. 
shoved himself along the bench to get away and, in the process, actually 
shoved Jane off and onto the floor; Art-Smart Scarlet scowled as she 
got up and moved to sit by Erudite Emerald.
	"Problem?" Lynn asked.
	Tom was steaming gently.  "Did O'Neill assign...?"
	"Family trees," Daria confirmed.
	Lynn supplemented the tale.  "He stopped us after class -- said 
what a great opportunity it would be for us to explore our common 
heritage..."
	"...So for us, it's a group project.  Focus on the -- *paternal* 
limb of our family tree."  Tom had to wince hardest at the way Daria 
spat out the word "paternal."  There was blessed silence for a moment.
	Tom was the one to break it.  "Look, this is no bed of roses 
for me either.  The Sloanes have been tied to the Smythe family business 
for a long time."
	"But *you* can at least pull an Operation Faeces Tauri with the 
Sloane background."
	"Indeed," Lynn allowed as.  "Number One's the only Sloane who 
served as more than a legit. -- Before *you,*" she added bitterly.
	"Operation *what?*"	"`Number One'?"  Tom and A.P. noticed 
how they'd overlapped, exchanged looks, then shifted position as far 
away from each other as they could get.
	"Adam Sloane -- ST:TNG refcrime."
	A.P. nodded sagely.  "Ohyeah.  I guess I can see that."  The 
Falcon *did* refer to his consigliere in the same terms Picard did Riker.
	"And as for Operation Faeces Tauri..."  Daria trailed off 
meaningfully.
	"If you have to ask," Lynn finished the sentence, "you'll never 
know."  Tom got the hangdog look of one who's left out of all the good 
in-jokes.  "Another time. -- You have to learn *sometime,*" she snarked.
	"How long are you guys going to twist the knife?" he pled.
	"I could give you the degrees of rotation," offered A.P., "if 
you want...how much is 360 times infinity?"  Tom looked at the Maverick 
bitterly, and A.P. gave him an acid grin.
	Across the cafeteria, Jodie was watching the quintet intensely, 
and Mack, sitting across from her, was beginning to notice.  "Jodie?"  
He waved a hand in front of her face.  "Earth to Jodie..."
	Jodie blinked, coming out of her reverie.  "Oh, sorry.  You were 
saying?"
	Mack raised an eyebrow but was mollifed by Jodie's cheerfully 
sheepish grin.  He wouldn't have relaxed so if he'd seen it turn into 
a thoughtful frown the moment he looked away again.

				      * * *

Later, Daria was walking home on the streets of Lawndale, her mind miles 
away.  Jodie caught up to her and walked beside her in silence for a 
moment.  When she spoke, it was with a calculatedly casual air.  "Daria...
are you okay?"
	Daria was at a sufficient mental distance that she started to 
answer without thinking.  "Yeah, I'm fine, I..."  She realized who'd 
spoken and came back to earth with a sickening inner thud.  "This isn't 
your way home."
	"Daria, I want to know what's going on.  Ever since we got back 
to school, you guys have been so..."
	"We had a long, strange trip.  That's all you need to know."
	That line might have worked on Jake and Helen, but Jodie was 
made of more attentive, not to mention persistent, stuff.  "That's bull.  
Things *stayed* strange when Angier Sloane's son came to school."
	Piku piku.  "You know the Sloanes?"
	"Dad works closely with Grace, Sloane, and Page.  And his son 
Thomas got yanked out of a very good prep school and sent to *Lawndale  
High,* which, until just recently, was more prided for its football 
scores than for its SAT scores."
	"Jodie..."
	The ex-Overachiever was too caught up in her rant to listen.  
"And Lynn pulled that Brittany and A.P. had that grade-dip and everything 
Jane's painted in class is jagged edges and blood red.  And when that 
happens at the same time as you start hanging out with H..."  With that, 
Jodie stopped abruptly, realizing what she'd just said.  She couldn't 
*really* go pale, but she actually did lighten a shade or two.
	Daria facefaulted at her, staring with growing horror.  "You 
*knew?*"
	_Backtrack *now.*_  "Know *what?*  I mean Tom -- H is sort of 
a... family nic--"
	Daria wasn't having it.  "`*Family*' nickname, yes.  You knew 
about this."  It wasn't a question.
	Jodie took one look at Daria and realized the other's bullshit 
detector was redlining.  If she overloaded it, dire things *would* come 
to pass, guaranteed, so she decided to cut out the delaying tactics.  
She allowed herself one small sigh before the confession.  "Yeah.  Yeah, 
I knew."  She couldn't see her own face, but she knew Daria could see 
the terrifed, resigned look in her eyes.


ACT 2: DEAD BATTERY

"You'll see your problems multiplied
 If you continually decide
 To faithfully pursue...a policy of truth"
	-- Depeche Mode, "Policy of Truth"

Later, in Lynn's room, that look had not gone away -- if anything, it 
had only gotten stronger -- as Jodie sat in Lynn's desk chair, which 
was flush against the wardrobe.  Sitting in a row on the bed, staring 
at her like the jury at the trial of Jabez Stone, were Daria, Jane, Lynn, 
and A.P. -- a jury of her peer-group.  (Look, I'm trying to build up 
a buffer here, okay?  We're about to need all the humor we can get.)
	"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Lynn asked.
	Jodie decided her best defense was the truth.  "I didn't know 
you were involved until the day before Ms. Li attacked you."
	"The day *before*?" A.P. blurted.  "You couldn't have *warned* 
us?  I mean, Lynn nearly...I mean, I...I mean, *damn,* GPA Girl."
	"I didn't know enough and there wasn't enough time.  The only 
reason we found out was because Angier..."  She noticed the it-will-go-
hard-with-you looks from the others.  "...okay, Remora...took the call 
over dinner at our house."
	Daria was surprised.  "They called *Remora*?"
	"It was hard to understand; he said a rat was finding a new bite 
in the land of cheese."
	"He was in Wisconsin scouting new talent," Lynn clarified.  
"Something of a protegee in the explosives department.  Go on."
	"Warlock wanted Angier to call someone called Lehrer, but Angier 
talked him out of it at first -- something about not calling in favors 
*just* yet.  Warlock tried to argue but his flight was called then so 
he--"
	"He came *here*?"
	"Something about hiring out a killer DJ at a New York venue..."
	"Can no one connected to the Smythes make a decent pun?" groaned 
Jane.
	"There's no such thing as a decent pun," Daria pointed out.
	Jodie resumed.  "Dad talked about it a lot when you were in the 
hospital.  Warlock didn't know Ms. Li still had access to all the school 
buildings so he had the school covered from 5 am on, not knowing she 
slept there that night."
	A silence followed this news.  A very thoughtful, very stressed, 
very deep silence.  If anyone in the room had been holding her breath 
(or, more likely to do so, his breath), they would all have had empirical 
verification that the silence couldn't have lasted as long as it felt 
like, from the holder's own simple failure to faint before the silence 
was over.
	When Lynn spoke, it was with no inflection whatsoever in her 
voice.  "Go on."
	Piku piku.  "I..."  Jodie knew this was a bad idea, but in for 
a penny, in for a pound.  "That was the first time it was close to me.  
Until then all I knew was that Dad paid Angier and Angier made sure that 
he paid fewer taxes to help `those damn welfare cheats.'  And that it 
was because of a man called Smythe and his affiliates who I was never 
going to go *near.*"
	"And the codenames...?" prompted Jane.
	"Dad kept tabs -- he wanted to make sure it wouldn't touch me.  
I was a kid; I was nosy."
	"But when you knew...?" inquired Lynn.
	"Dad told me to keep my mouth shut.  I listened."  Jodie sighed.  
"*You* know what I was like..."
	Daria very nearly managed to sound sympathetic.  "Yeah.  But 
now...?"
	"I got worried.  Since senior year started, you four have been
...well, the most polite word I can use is `shell-shocked.'  What 
*happened* to you guys this summer?"
	The quartet shared a look.  It was the kind of look that says 
nothing so much as _Even at Lawndale High, we should have known *someone* 
would notice sooner or later._
	Lynn, going slightly pale, stood up.  "I guess she needs to 
know.  But I can't..."  She choked ever-so-slightly and exited a little 
hurriedly.
	"Purple *Peril?*"  A.P., alarmed, leapt to his feet, got two 
steps, and tripped over Jodie's chair.  He stumbled, regained his balance 
and dashed after Lynn.
	Jodie looked at Daria and Jane, who were both looking worried, 
and instantly got a determined look on her face.  "Spill it."  She gave 
them a moment, then added, "NOW."
	Daria and Jane looked at each other, then joined in a resigned 
sigh.  Daria was the one to begin the answering process.  "We found out 
about the Smythes.  The hard way."

				      * * *

SLAM!  "Why didn't you *tell* me?!?"
	In the Landon study, Andrew looked up from the computer, and 
Michelle (in an armchair) from her Wall Street Journal, both stunned.  
	Andrew broke the ice.  "I won't be spoken to like that, young 
lady!"
	"SHUT UP!" Jodie explained.  "Why didn't you *tell* me that my 
friends spent their summer doing work for a Mafia family and running 
for their lives?  And all because of Angier Sloane's ultimate boss?"
	The inventor of the folding coffee cup was brought up short for 
a second by *that* little tidbit.  _Can I talk my way out of this?_  "I...
don't know what you're--"
	"Cut the crap, Dad.  Daria and Jane told me *everything*."
	_Oh shit._  "Jodie..."
	"I can't believe you didn't tell me!  They're my *friends*; they 
nearly *died* out there!"
	"Better them than you!"
	"What is *with* you?  What is your problem with them?"
	"They're associated with *criminals*!  Personally, I wasn't 
surprised in the *least* when that Cullen girl turned out to be the same 
one with the roller hockey..."
	Piku piku.  "That was *her*? -- I don't *believe* you *remember* 
that!"
	"Neither do I," Michelle interjected.
	Andrew could feel what little control of the conversation he'd 
even had starting to slip.  "Don't you see the *danger* here?  Even if 
the Smythes weren't being targeted by the most psychotic Caucasoid Mafia 
Family out there, your life would be in danger.  And there's what hanging 
around with a criminal family would do to your political chances..."
	"Who says I'm going for the political career you want me to have? 
Remember, I *said*--"
	Jodie got no further, as Michelle overrode her.  "Andrew, get 
a grip on yourself.  You *know* she's smart enough to get along in the 
financial world.  With the Sloane connections, she could go a very long 
way.  Don't *you* see the *advantages* here?"
	"But I don't--"
	Andrew, now ignoring Jodie completely, addressed his next comment 
to Michelle.  "She's my *daughter*!  I've been bending over backwards 
trying to keep her safe!  She *can't* run around associating with 
criminals in that way!"
	"But...but...*you* got involved with the Smythes!"
	"Exactly -- not that you use that involvement to your advantage--"
	"I'm not *involved* with them!" Andrew corrected his wife.  "I'm 
just *using* them to keep my money out of the hands of those--"
	"Welfare cheats, I know."  That had come out sounding rather 
more bitter than was perhaps warranted, and Jodie knew it.  There was, 
thus, a pause as she collected herself.  "They're my *friends,*" she 
said at length.  "I *owe* them.  You should have told me.  I could have 
helped!"
	"How?"
	"*Talked* to them; *something!*  Lynn couldn't even be in the 
*room* when it got discussed!  They went through *hell* and have been 
keeping it to themselves for--"
	"Now you listen to me."  Andrew was clearly keeping a lid on 
his temper by main force.  "You are *not* going to spend more time with 
those...those *criminals* than you have to!  They'll lead you into 
nothing but trouble!  Why do you think I've kept you away from Tom and 
Elsie Sloane at every function we've been to?"
	"But..."
	"Andrew, I don't particularly like those kids either," Michelle 
allowed as.  "Not the Sloane kids and not those others.  They're a bad 
influence on Jodie and of course they're bound to turn out like that 
Warlock character or worse.  But at the very least she can use those 
connections to go farther than you *ever* did.  Have you no ambition?"
	"It's not a question of ambition!" he insisted.  "There are
lines!"
	"Funny to hear *you* say that, Mr. Welfare Cheats..."  Taking 
advantage of their distraction, Jodie simply stepped out of the room.
	"Now look, that's not--"  Neither of them even heard the door 
slam, cutting Jodie off from the rest of the sentence.


ACT 3: SECRETS AND LIES

"By the time I had lost my soul, you had to go
 She come, in disguise
 I want to say goodbye..."
	-- "My Song"

Up in her room, Jodie lay facedown on her bed, her face buried in a 
pillow.  "It juft keepf getting worfe.  And theve fingv alwayv happen 
in..."  The phone started ringing, and she raised her head listlessly.  
"...threes."  She flumped her head back into the pillow for a moment.  
To her chagrin, the phone kept ringing, so she rolled over, sat up, 
grabbed the phone and put it to her ear.  "Hello?"
	The caller was waaaaaaaaaaaaay too cheerful for Jodie's current 
mood.  "HI!"
	She stifled a sigh.  "Hi, Mack."
	"Are you busy tomorrow night?  Dad got tickets to that Reduced 
Shakespeare Company thing that's coming through Lawndale as part of that 
bid to get people more interested in classic theatre.  I guess they 
figure the only way 21st Century America can deal with Shakespeare is 
in sound bites.  I thought we could grab an early dinner at--"
	"Mack, thanks, but I don't think I'll be in the mood tomorrow.  
Sorry."
	There was something sharper than usual in her tone.  Mack was 
understandably confused.  "But, Jodie..."
	Jodie was rapidly losing what little calm she'd initially been 
able to feign.  "Seriously, Mack, I appreciate the effort, but--"
	"Jodie, I just want to make up for lost time!  I mean, it's only 
this year that you and I got to spend any time together and we're both 
going to college next year so I thought while we could--"
	_That's it.  I'm gone._  "Look, Mack, this is *not* the time!  
I mean, today's been bad enough without you *pressuring* me!"
	"I--"
	Jodie rolled right over him, lost in the very necessary rant, 
quite oblivious to her actual words.  "First I find out that the Flack-
Jacket Mafia are...well, *are* the Mafia and spent their summer running 
errands for their Family and trying not to get themselves killed.  *Then* 
I find out that while my dad, who's been involved with *their same 
Family* for *years,* doesn't *want* me involved in any of it, my *mother* 
thinks I should get *more* involved and use the financial edge it would 
give me and *now* I have to deal with you pushing me for--"  Since she 
was one of the relative handful of Lawndalians with a brain used for 
other than decorative purposes, it was inevitable that it would catch 
up with her mouth sooner or later.  Her eyes went wide as saucers.  
"...uh..."
	After the kind of terrible, ghastly silence you only get on a 
telephone, Mack spoke, in tones that said _I know I heard that but I 
want to remain blissfully ignorant for as long as possible._  "Mafia?"
	"...uhhhh..."
	Mack was starting to get concerned.  "JODIE...?"
	A sigh.  "Yeah.  Mafia.  You know how Daria and Lynn have the 
same dad?"  There was a pause.  Mack was probably nodding, forgetting 
the gesture couldn't be seen, but Jodie'd known him long enough to make 
an educated guess.  "Well, their dad's a Don for a Mafia Family.  One 
*my* Dad's been involved with for awhile."
	"Why didn't you tell me?"
	"You didn't need to know.  It didn't really touch me until the 
day before Ms. Li--"  She caught herself, realizing this was a bad idea.
	Too late, though.  Mack managed to follow through; he sounded 
completely shocked.  "You...knew about that *before* it happened?"
	"Only *just!*  If it'd have done any good, don't you think--?"
	Mack wasn't finished; he was very good at thinking on his feet, 
and he could put the pieces together on his own.  "You...you were one 
of the only people who spoke up *against* the rumors that it was a gang-
land hit!  And *you* were the one who pushed the idea of asking Daria 
and Jane and A.P. what happened!  How could you *lie* to me like that?"
	"It was to keep you *safe!*  I--"
	"And who's going to keep *you* safe?"
	"It would take a lot more than you, Mack!  It's bad enough *I* 
know!  Now that I've told *you*--"
	"What," he snarked, "someone'll fit me for cement shoes?"
	"No, but they might do that to *me.*"
	Oh yeah, *that* got through to him.  "Eeeeeeep," he quavered 
desperately.
	"Mack, I--"
	He was already back on track.  "But Jodie, you're my girlfriend.  
It's my *job* to try to keep you safe!"
	Jodie stared incredulously at the phone for a moment, trying 
to work out the best reply to that.  She settled on "So are you planning 
to bash me over the head with a club and drag me to your cave by the 
hair after graduation?"
	"That's not fair, Jodie!  You said that Daria and her friends' 
lives were in danger and that means you."
	"*And* you!  Mack, I..."  She sighed.  "Can't you see it's safer 
for you to be kept out of this?"
	"Fine.  I'll stay out."  With that, he hung up.
	Jodie looked at the phone for a moment, hardly even noticing 
when her stunned disbelief changed to stunned sadness and remorse.  Then 
she sighed and dialed, waiting for pickup.  When she got it: "It's Jodie. 
I need to talk to all of you.  About...Family stuff."  They told her 
a location.  "Sorry; meet you *where?*"

				      * * *

You guessed it, Biers.  Jodie was sitting in a remorseful little heap 
on a chair in a corner.  Daria and Jane flanked her, looking worried 
and sympathetic in equal measure.  A.P. is watching a pensive Lynn, who 
was watch Tom, who in turn was pacing a circle around the pool table, 
very pale.  "So now Mack McKenzie knows," he muttered.  "Who next -- 
that perverted red-haired freak?"
	"Rust, Upchuck is the *last* person who's going to get involved 
with this," Lynn assured.  "I mean, who wants to get close enough to 
*tell* him?  The question is..."  As Tom neared her on his circuit of 
the pool table, she stuck a leg out to block his progress.  "...what 
do we do about who *does* know?"
	Tom scowled at the limb.  "To be perfectly honest, standard 
procedure is to recruit him, buy him or..."  He trailed off as he stepped 
over the leg and resumed pacing.
	Something in the way he trailed off made Daria look up.  "OR...?" 
she asked severely.
	"Well, we're a *Mafia Family!*  We--"
	"You hurt him," Jodie interjected, looking at Tom with real
viciousness in her eyes, "I hurt *you.*"
	"And don't think she'd be alone," Lynn added in tones all the 
more frightening for being so deadpan.  After a moment, she added, "So 
he knows.  Fine.  He *also* knows spilling things would get Jodie in 
all kinds of trouble.  Does he want that?"
	Jodie buried her face in her arms morosely.  "I don't see why 
he wouldn't," she replied, sounding utterly dejected.  "I mean, he's 
never hung up on me before."
	"Uh...I'm kinda clueless at junk like this," A.P. allowed as, 
"but I think guys sometimes get real stupid when they *coulda* maybe 
helped someone they care about but didn't 'cause they didn't *know* about 
it."  He shrugged sheepishly.  "We come around."  Lynn gave him a wry 
smile, which he answered with a sheepish grin.
	Tom completed another circuit, trying to pass Lynn, and she stood 
up and physically shoves him into her vacant chair.  A.P. bounced up 
like he was on a spring.  Lynn scowled at Tom, who looked somewhat taken 
aback.  "Stop that; it's silly.  And you're making me dizzy."
	"Anyway, wrong kinda pool for laps."  Jodie didn't even look 
up.  Jane and Lynn snrkled, and even Daria smiled a little.
	Tom, however, was not amused.  "*Very* funny."
	"Oh, stuff a sock in it, you--"
	"Guys," Daria intervened, "remember, Jodie?"
	"Mack's a good guy," Jane assured Jodie; "he'll come around."
	"You think?"
	"Someone who's put up with Kevin for as long as Mack has without 
hitting him has the patience of a saint," Daria pointed out.  "Once he 
gets over the shock..."
	"He'll come back," Tom agreed.  "Seriously."  He aimed his next 
remorseful comment in Jane's general direction.  "It might be a good 
idea not to push him away when he does."  Jane raised an eyebrow at Tom, 
who became intensely interested in his own shoes.

				      * * *

Out on the mean(ingless) streets of Lawndale, Mack was walking on his 
own, totally lost in thought, a veneer of surface anger hiding a very 
genuine worry.  After wandering for a while, he looked up to find that 
his feet had carried him to Jodie's house.  Figuring it couldn't hurt, 
he stepped over to the front door and rang the bell.
	After a second, Rachel opened it.  "Hi Mack!"
	"Hi, Rachel," Mack replied dejectedly.  "Is Jodie home?"
	Rachel sounded mildly concerned.  "No; she had another argument 
with Mom and Dad and then went out."
	That brought him down even further.  "Oh.  Okay, thanks."  He 
turned to go.
	"You want me to give her a message or something?"
	He stopped in his tracks, but didn't actually turn around.  "No, 
thanks, Rachel.  She'll call if she wants to."  He walked away, with 
Rachel looking after him.
	"Rachel," Michelle asked from within, "who's at the door?"
	Rachel shut the door before answering.

				      * * *

The next day in the cafeteria, Jodie was sitting alone at a table, 
picking at her lunch.  Mack walked past, carrying a tray.  Daria, Jane, 
Lynn and A.P. were sharing a convenient (but not quite nearby) table, 
watching the proceedings with concerned interest...but Mack moved on, 
finally sitting down at the Lions table with Kevin, Jack, the Js and 
Robert.  Jodie looked up and sighed.  The Jacketeers looked at each 
other, then picked up their trays and moved to Jodie's table by unspoken 
agreement.  They stood there a moment.  Jodie looked up at them blankly.
	"Unless you don't want to be seen with the criminal element..." 
Lynn negotiated.
	Jodie made a welcoming gesture.  "Like I have a choice," she 
muttered ruefully.
	Lynn allowed herself a small smirk.  "Yeah, that's about what 
I said."
	"Why aren't you sitting with her?" Jamie asked at the team table.
	"C'mon, Mack Daddy, we're your friends!  You can tell us!"
	"No, I can't. -- AND DON'T *CALL* ME THAT!"  (With that, Mack 
got up and stormed out, leaving his food behind.  At least half the 
occupants of the cafeteria just stared at the door, unable to believe 
that the Lions' captain had stormed out of *anywhere*.  There was silence 
for a moment, but it was broken by Jodie saying, "Oh crap."  There was 
a *thunk* as she dropped her head on the table.  Over that head, Daria, 
Jane, Lynn and A.P. shared a look that said without words, _We're going 
to have to do something about this._

[tsuzuku]

ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	Sorry for the delay, but my muse (Lynn dressed up as her in "Bare 
Acquaintances") was hijacked by a couple of irrelevant and possibly 
unattainable projects.
	The "Policy of Truth" quote was the one I wanted to use for the 
"Backstory" segment of ToD, until I decided another quote (the one I 
actually wound up using there) would fit better.
	I've heard good things about the Reduced Shakespeare Company's 
"The Complete Works of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged)," but I keep missing my 
chances to see it.
	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, 2001 MTV 
Networks, a Viacom company.  (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, 
work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.)  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, 2001 by Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson.  This storyline 
is copyright 2001 Canadibrit and Ben Yee and was adapted by Austin Loomis 
(to whom the prose format version is also 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.
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