[Synopsis: And now for something completely different -- a Daria fic
in which Daria hardly appears.  Jane and Sandi get stuck in an elevator 
together.  It's kind of like when Londo and G'Kar got trapped in the 
lift in that season three episode with the bomber, only not really.  
It's actually more like when Londo took Lennier to the casino in "Quality 
of Mercy" -- the kind of character development stuff you can only get 
by throwing two characters together who normally wouldn't associate.  
If you like this adaptation, thank CN for pointing me at the original.]

Daria in (or at least near) "Outage"
fan fiction by Mike Yamiolkoski
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis

Cast: SSW announcer, Daria Morgendorffer, Jane Lane, Kevin Thompson, 
Brittany Taylor, Sandi Griffin, cops 1 and 2, engineer; other, non-
speaking roles

"I'm stuck in a closet with Vanna White
 Night after night after night after night"
	-- Weird Al Yankovic

[Note to Continuity: Like the man said, this takes place before young 
Thomas Sloane came into Jane's life.  Oh, and Continuity?  Remember to
take back those library books.]

"Squirrels that can skeletonize a buffalo in thirty seconds??  The 
piranhas of the prairies, next, on _Sick, Sad World_!"
	"I think they're running out of ideas," Daria remarked from where 
she lay on Jane's bed.
	"Not to worry," Jane assured her friend as she continued packing 
up some of her paintings into a large portfolio.  "If there's one thing 
this world will always have plenty of, it's twisted freaks of nature."
	"Speaking of which, DeMartino assigned us a paper on the Spanish 
Inquisition while you were gone yesterday."
	"Darn, I didn't expect that."  Don't everybody laugh at once.
	"I'm disappointed in you, Jane.  That was beneath your dignity."
	Jane zipped up the portfolio and started filling another one.  
"I know, I've got a lot on my mind.  I've never tried to actually sell 
my work before."
	"Tell me again why you're doing it now?"
	"Ms. Defoe set it up for me.  She met this guy who runs an 
advertising agency, and some of his clients are looking for something 
new.  She mentioned my name."
	"And...?" Daria prompted, still not fully comprehending.
	"And, since Ms. Defoe is the only member of her generation who's 
ever offered me encouragement, I felt like I shouldn't let her down."
	_Ah.  I see._  "When's your appointment?"
	"One o'clock.  In Middleton. -- Oh, God, what time is it?"
	"Relax.  It's only ten thirty."
	"That's what I was afraid of.  It takes Trent at least three 
hours to wake up sufficiently to operate a car."  Jane sighed.  "I really 
didn't want to lug all this stuff on the bus."
	"Well, I was planning on going to the Middleton library anyway.  
I'll help you lug this stuff to the bus stop."
	"Burning to get to work on that paper, eh?"
	"Actually, I read about the Spanish Inquisition for recreation."  
I could tell you whether Daria was kidding or not, but what fun would 
*that* be?
	"Unsurprising."
	"But you still owe me pizza for this."

				      * * *

Elsewhere, on the streets of Lawndale, events were occurring that would 
impinge on our heroines' day.  Specifically, Kevin was trying to start 
his dad's car, as Brittany sat in the passenger seat.  He strenuously 
twisted the key to no discernible effect.  "Come on, you..."  He being 
who and what he is, words failed him.  "...you -- car!  Start!"
	"Ooh, Kevvy, we're going to miss the movie!"
	"Don't worry, babe, I'll get it started!"  He hit the dashboard 
several times for luck.
	"I think the battery's dead!"
	Kevin kept trying.  "The battery can't be dead, we just put gas 
in it this morning!"  He tried the key a couple more times, then stopped. 
"You know what I think?  I think the battery's dead."
	Brittany was a bit miffed by Kevin's...well, guy-ish behavior.  
"Really?" she snarked.
	"Relax, babe.  I've got jumper cables!"  He got out and popped
open the trunk, pulling out a set of cables.  "Now, where do I plug these 
in?"  He looked around.  There were a number of other cars parked around 
him, but few people out he could ask.  Then he spotted a large green  
box on the sidewalk just in front of his car that said, among other 
dangerous things, HIGH VOLTAGE.  "Hey, I bet I could get a jump with 
that!  Probably wouldn't have to fill up the tank again for weeks!"  
He threw open the hood and started connecting the cables.
	"Uhh...Kevvy, are you sure that's a good idea?"
	"Hey, what's the worst that could happen?"
	Brittany twirled her hair for a moment, imagining the worst -- 
and came to a conclusion that visibly disturbed her.  "Eeeep!"  She got 
out of the car and backed away about twenty feet.
	Kevin, oblivious (yes, I know that's redundant, so don't bother 
writing in to tell me), continued examining the cablebox.  "Now, let's 
see here, how do you open one of these things?"

				      * * *

At the Middleton bus stop, Jane carried a double armload of portfolios 
off the bus.  "I'll meet you over at the library in an hour!" she called 
to Daria, who was still on the bus, as it took off in a cloud of exhaust.
	Alone now, Jane looked up.  The building in front of her was 
about thirty stories tall.  She hefted her drawings under each arm and
maneuvered her and their way in through the revolving doors.  A moment 
later, an oddly familiar-looking girl in dark glasses and a scarf sneaked 
into the same door.
	In the lobby, Jane entered an elevator, scanned the buttons 
briefly, then punched the one for her floor.  As the doors began to 
close, a familiar voice called out, "HOLD IT!"
	Jane thought she recognized the voice, so she opted to ignore 
it, letting the doors close.  A hand stuck itself inside at the last 
moment, and the doors slid back open.  The girl in dark glasses entered 
the elevator, a bit out of breath.  "You *could* have held thee door, 
you know," Sandi (for it was indeed she) pointed out.
	"Oh, no," Jane sighed, her fears confirmed.
	Sandi pulled out a compact to check herself.  "I'm, like, 
peractically sawetting.  I hope you're sorry."
	"You must be a good hoper."
	Sandi turned to look at Jane for the first time.  "Oh, aren't 
you like, Ku-winn's cousin, or whatever?"
	"Or whatever."
	"No, wait, you're like, Ku-winn's cousin's ferend, aren't you?"
	"Damn.  Now I'll need a new secret identity."  Sandi didn't seem 
to hear that, simply pushing the button for her floor.  The elevator 
doors closed again.  Jane glanced over at Sandi, and noticed the Fashion 
Club president's unusual accessories -- the oversized dark glasses, the
scarf tied around her head.  Together, they covered the entire top half 
of her face.  "Or are you the one with the secret identity today?"
	"Just mind your own business, okay?"
	"Fine."  Jane watched the numbers while Sandi touched up her 
makeup.

				      * * *

Somehow, probably involving severe muscle strain, Kevin had managed to 
open the electrical box.  Now, he was attaching the jumper cables to 
random points inside the box.  Brittany stood well off to the side, 
looking nervous.
	"All set, Babe!"  Kevin got back in the car, completely failing 
to notice the smoke already starting to rise from the hood.  "Okay, let's 
let 'er rip!"  He turned the key.  Nothing happened.  "Oh, come on!"  
He turned it again, then realized something.  "Oh, wait a minute!  I've 
been turning it the wrong way!"  He tried the key one more time...
	...and as he did so, a seven-foot spark jumped from the box to 
the car, causing a blue fireball to leap out of the hood.  Kevin was 
starting to get nervous, about five minutes too late.  "Umm..."  Sparks 
continued to fly from both the car and the box.
	Kevin's lower lip was trembling, his eyes were wide, and he was 
sweating.  Ray Charles could have seen how scared he was.  Suddenly he
screamed -- a good, high-pitched horror movie scream -- leaped from the 
car and ran for his life.  Brittany, being the brains of the pair, was 
already long gone.
	The car and the electrical box both blew the hell up.

				      * * *

At Cranberry Commons, lights went out all over the place; cash registers 
went dim; the careful listener could *hear* everything coming to a halt.
	As traffic lights went out at busy intersections, the sound of 
honking horns commenced.
	As Daria walked into the Middleton library, everything went out.  
"That figures," she observed.

				      * * *

With a sudden jerk, the elevator stopped and the lights went out.  "Oh, 
thanks a lot, God," Jane snarked.
	Sandi sounded a little panicky.  "What happened?"
	"I'm obviously being punished for something."  An emergency light 
flickered on in the ceiling of the elevator.  It was dim, but (barely) 
enough to see by.
	"Thee elevator's stuck!"
	"You have a keen grasp of the obvious."  Jane opened the cabinet 
that held the emergency phone, only to find a sign which read _Out of
Order_.  "Perfect."  She punched the alarm button a few times, and 
nothing happened.  "Even better."
	"What are we going to *do?*"
	Jane had a thought.  "Wait, don't you fashion drones all have 
cell phones?"
	"It's for *emergencies.*"
	"Drat!  Where are we going to find an emergency around here at 
this hour?"
	"And...I don't have it with me."
	"Why not?"
	"It's pink," Sandi replied as if that explained everything.  
Since it did the exact opposite, Jane decided to wait for any further 
explanation that might be forthcoming.  At length, Sandi elaborated, 
"It clashed with my outfit."  Jane put her hand over her eyes and shook 
her head, unable to believe the Universe's sense of humor.  Sandi started 
to get angry.  "Look, Ku-winn's cousin's ferend..."
	Jane was now angrier than Sandi was likely to think of being.  
"Stop calling me that!  I'm *Jane,* you moron!  It's not a complicated 
name, you know!"
	"All right, *Jee-yane*..."
	"Wait, on second thought, call me `Quinn's cousin's friend.'
I can't stand hearing my name with that nasally tone."
	Sandi seemed honestly perplexed.  "What nasally toane?"
	Jane sighed and sat down in the corner of the elevator to wait.  
Sandi tapped her foot impatiently, continuing to watch the numbers for 
any sign of change.

				      * * *

All that was left of Doug Thompson's car was a smoldering ruin, now 
surrounded by cops, fire trucks, and other emergency vehicles.
	"It's not going to be easy figuring out whose car this was," 
one cop observed.  "The license plates are melted, and I've got at least 
six guesses as to what kind of car it once was."
	"Who'd be stupid enough to hook his car into the power box?" 
his partner wondered.
	"Some kid, I suppose.  We'd better get the city engineers down 
here. -- God, I don't envy the person who has to clean this up."
	"We haven't got it much easier, trying to figure out who did 
it."
	As luck would have it, Kevin walked up to them.  "Yo, dude!  
Can we get my dad's car somewhere it can be fixed?  I don't want him 
to find out about this, he'll never let me borrow it again."
	The second cop smiled at his partner, then turned to Kevin.
"You have the right to remain silent."  He flipped Kevin around and 
cuffed him.  "If you give up that right, anything you say can and will 
be used against you in a court of law."
	Kevin was confused (yes, I know *that's* redundant too).  "Hey, 
what gives?  I was just trying to jump start my car!"
	"Kid," the first cop sighed, his limited ability to suffer fools 
failing him, "I usually don't say this, but in your case I'd think really 
hard about remaining silent."

				      * * *

In the elevator, Jane was slouching a lot more.  Sandi was now sitting 
against a different wall.  Despite the relative darkness, she still had 
the sunglasses on.  "It's been almost an hour!" she snapped.  "How long 
are they going to keep us *in* here?"
	"Until we break," Jane theorized.  "Or turn cannibal."
	"Eeewww!"
	Silence supervened for a moment.
	Jane broke it.  "You know, I was just thinking...it was about 
12:30 when we got in here, right?"
	"What about it?"
	"So almost everyone in the building was out to lunch."
	"What's your point?"
	"They're probably not going to come back to work until the power 
comes back on."
	Even Sandi was starting to get the meaning.  "What are you
saying?"
	"We could be in here for a while."
	"how long?"
	"Depends on how serious the power failure is, I guess."

				      * * *

Several engineers were working on the power box.  The slagmobile was 
being pulled onto a wrecker.  A large crowd had gathered outside the 
police line.
	"Man, what a mess," one engineer muttered.  "Better call the 
mayor's office; looks like we're putting in some overtime on this one."

				      * * *

"Sandi, this *isn't* going to work."  Jane was on all fours; Sandi was 
standing on her back, trying to reach the emergency exit hatch in the 
ceiling.  "Ow!  Watch it!"
	"Hold still, will you?  I can't reach it!"
	"OW!  How do you expect me to hold still when you're stomping
all over my back in those damn spike heels?  Why didn't you wear flats 
or something?"
	"Are *you* tarying to give *mee* fashion advice?"
	"Hey, you're the one with the -- oof! -- weird headgear."
	"Besides, I can't reach thee ceiling without thee heels on--"
	"Auuggh!  DAMMIT!"
	"What is it *now?*"
	"You're standing on my neck!"
	"Hold on, I've almost -- got it--"
	"Whoa -- Hey, hey!"
	"Aaaaaa!"  Sandi and Jane toppled to the floor of the elevator 
in an untidy tangle.
	"Ouch."
	"Oohhhh..."
	"...Okay," Jane observed, "that didn't work.  My turn on top.  
Let me borrow those heels."  That got her a dirty look from Sandi.

				      * * *

Daria tried the doors outside the building Jane had gone into, but they 
refused to open.  She checked her watch: it said 2:30 PM.

				      * * *

Jane checked her watch: it said 2:30 PM.  They were now sitting on the 
floor in one corner of the elevator.  "Okay," she said, "so we've got 
an empty lighter, some bottle caps, a couple of sticks of hot glue, and 
a gummi spider.  That's my pockets."
	"I've got two lipsticks, a mascara, an eyelash curler, nail 
polish, an eyeberow pencil, an eyeliner, three shades of balush, a tyube 
of foundation, two eyeshadows..."
	"Enough, I get the point.  So we have nothing that's likely to 
be able to pry open the doors, no water, and no food except my gummi 
spider."
	"Eewww...I'm *not* eating that!"
	"Suit yourself."  Jane shoved it back in her pocket.
	Silence.
	Again, Jane decided it needed breaking.  "You know, it's really 
not that bright in here.  You could probably take the sunglasses off 
now."
	More silence.
	"Unless, of course, they're a new fashion statement."
	Further silence.
	"So..."
	"Look, I don't want to talk about it!"
	"Hey, don't get riled!  Just making a simple observation."
	"Oh, like it matters now..."  Sandi whipped off the glasses and 
scarf, revealing a fashion fiend's worst nightmare.  Her forehead was 
a bright cherry-red clear down to the nose.  Her ears were even worse.
	Jane was too startled to laugh.  "Whoa, what happened to you?"
	"If you must know, I'm allergic to thee new hairsperay we 
selected for New Peroducts Week in fashion club.  I'm here to see thee..."
She shuddered.  "...dermatologist."
	"Damn, using it once did that to you?"
	"I used it all week."  Sandi was mumbling so severely that Jane 
had to lean in slightly.  "Finished th'bottle."
	"And that was smart because...?"
	"*I* picked it out!  I couldn't let *Ku-winn* know I made a 
mistake like that, could I?"
	"Uh, Sandi, your head looks like a peeled tomato.  Might that 
not give it away all by itself?"
	"You don't become peresident of thee Fashion Club without 
learning how to apply foundation peroperly."
	"Gotcha."
	Sandi seemed to be getting all peeved.  "You perobably think 
this is a laugh riot, don't you?"
	"Well, I'll be honest with you, it is the funniest thing that's 
happened in the last hour."
	Sandi started to get angry, then visibly changed her mind, either
because she realized it wouldn't help any or because she genuinely meant 
the next words out of her mouth.  "As much as I hate to admit it, you're 
perobably right."
	Jane now realized she'd been actively trying, for some time now, 
*not* to laugh.  "You know, anyone who'd do that to themselves for 
fashion really should have their head examined."
	Poor choice of words, perhaps.  Now Sandi glared.  "That's *not* 
funny."
	Jane realized what she'd said...and immediately cracked up.
	Sandi got all peeved and looked away.
	"Hee hee hee...all right, okay, I'm okay now."
	"No, you're right, in a way.  I've let this whole thing go to 
my head."
	That did it.  "B-HAA, HA, HA!"  Jane was now openly clutching 
her sides and rolling with laughter.
	"Oh, shut up, Ku-winn's cousin's ferend."  But Sandi was clearly 
having trouble keeping a straight face herself, now.  Finally, she gave 
in and laughed right along with Jane.
	At length, Jane was able to cough and splutter her way to a 
halt.  "Oh, man, we've been in this elevator too long."
	"*Tell* me about it.  I mean, here I am, talking to..."  Sandi 
kind of trailed off, and her smile faded.
	"`To'...an outcast?  A geek?  A loner?  A loser?  Or simply `an
unpopular girl'?"
	"I didn't say that."
	"Not as recently as today, anyway."  An awkward silence followed 
that.  Sandi looked downcast.  Jane's smirk was still there, but just 
barely.
	"So, what barings you here?"
	"You really want to know?"
	"It's better than not talking at all."
	"Well, since you twist my arm, I'm here to see someone about 
my paintings.  Baines Advertising Agency.  I had an appointment about, 
oh, two hours ago."
	"Is that what all this stuff is?"
	"It's some of my work that I'm not totally displeased with."
	"Can I, um...?"  Sandi trailed off, sounding a little unsure.
	Jane motioned with her hand for further words.  "Yes?"
	"Can I see some of them? -- Not that I'm really *interested,* 
of course, just to pass thee time."
	"Sure, I love to show my work to disinterested parties.  And 
don't worry, I'm used to harsh criticism."  Jane unzipped one of the 
portfolios and pulled out a stack of canvases, which she then propped 
up on the elevator wall where she'd been sitting.  "I tried to pack a 
wide range of styles.  I didn't know what the agency was looking for."  
Sandi looked at the first painting for a while, her face expressionless.
She picked her way slowly through the stack.  Jane started getting 
nervous, wondering what was coming.
	"These are..."  Sandi trailed off.
	"Go on, say it.  I can take it."
	"These are...good."
	Jane sat up, her interest instantly piqued.  _Well, *that* was 
unexpected._  "You *like* it?  Are you sure that hairspray didn't seep 
through the scalp into your brain?"
	"I mean, I could never do this."  Sandi came to a particularly 
gruesome one -- the red-and-black skull with the flaming eyebrows and 
all the dripping blood -- and shuddered.  "Not that I'd want to, in this 
case."
	"Well, it's not for everyone."
	"I don't get it.  I mean, if I could do this, I'd make damn sure 
everyone knew it.  Why don't you tell people about this?"
	"The people who matter to me know.  The people who don't know 
don't matter to me."
	"How can you *say* that?  Don't you care what people think about 
you?"
	"Remember who you're talking to, here.  I could count the number 
of people whose opinions really matter to me on the fingers of one hand, 
and still hail a cab with the one left over."
	"I don't understand you at all!  How do you expect to get
anywhere if you can't get people to see things thee way you do?"
	"Where would that get me? -- Look, if someone says that they 
like my art, I want to know that they mean it.  I don't want people 
saying that just because it's what they think I want to hear, because 
then it's meaningless.  Daria tells me straight out when she thinks 
something of mine is crap, and it doesn't bother me, because at least 
I know it's honest."
	"But -- how can it not bother you when someone you really like 
puts you down like that?"
	"It's what friends are all about, as far as I'm concerned.  I 
couldn't call her a friend if she just blindly went along with me, like 
Stacy does with you."
	That got Sandi's back up instantly.  "Stacy goes along with me 
because I know what's right!  All my ferends do!"
	"Oh, please.  She's spineless and you take advantage.  Tiffany 
seems to agree with whoever spoke last.  And Quinn, she's just humoring 
you.  Come on, even you must see that."
	"It's not like I don't have any other ferends, you know.  I'm 
popular!"
	"Yeah, kind of like a road accident.  Everyone gathers around 
and looks, but they don't get too close."
	"Who are *you* to talk?"
	"Maybe I'm just someone who tells it like it is.  Think about
it -- what if you were in real trouble, and needed a real friend to help 
you out.  Who would you go to?  Stacy, who if she ever thought about 
it would probably be happier without you around?  How about Tiffany?  
Under stress, I doubt she could complete a sentence.  Quinn?  Don't make 
me laugh.  She'd install herself as the president of the Fashion Club 
the moment she had the chance.  Who does that leave other than a string 
of angry ex-boyfriends and a few dozen jealous girls who'd just as soon 
spit on you as anything else?"
	Sandi got lost in thought for a moment.  That sort of thing 
happens, in unfamiliar territory.  "You know," she said at length, 
"you're not as self-assured as you think."
	"I'm -- what?" Jane blurted, momentarily pole-axed.
	"Face it.  I get under your skin.  And now you're terying to 
get under mine."
	Jane started to say something, then thought better of it -- Sandi 
wasn't *completely* off base, and possibly not as far off as Jane might 
prefer to think.  They sat in silence for a while, neither one looking 
at the other.  After a bit, Jane reached into her pocket, rummaged around 
for a moment, and held the hand and its contents out to Sandi, carefully 
not looking at her.  "Want half a gummi spider?"
	"Sure."

				      * * *

In the building lobby, Daria looked at her watch again.  It was now 3:30, 
and Jane was two hours late.  A bit of concern touched Daria's normally 
stony expression.  She went to try the phone, but it was dead.  Grumbling 
inwardly, she sat down on a bench to wait some more.  As she did so, 
a number of city engineers and people in suits burst into the lobby, 
talking among themselves about the power failure, and headed for the 
door that led to the basement.  Daria took a moment's passing interest 
at this, then went back to her book -- _Nuclear War: What's In It for 
You?_

				      * * *

Jane checked her watch -- quarter to four.  "Look, Sandi, I'm sorry about 
what I said earlier.  You were complimenting my paintings, and I thanked 
you by pointing out how shallow I thought you were."
	"Don't worry about it.  Anyway, you didn't say anything that 
wasn't tarue."
	"Yeah, but you were right too.  What the hell do I know about 
it?"  They smiled at each other for a moment.  There was a brief silence.
	"So, I was thinking...when we get to school on Monday..."
	"We can pretend this never happened, if you like."
	"I hope *that's* not too shallow."
	"Nah, we just come from completely different worlds.  Probably 
better that we don't associate outside these four walls."
	Sandi took a sudden interest for some reason.  "Of course, if 
you want a makeover or something, I could--"
	"It would probably be better if you didn't."
	"Well, don't ever tell anyone I said this, but..."  Sandi trailed 
off.
	"Yes?"
	"I like your jacket.  It's kyoot."
	"Great.  Now I'll have to burn it."  Sandi giggled; Jane just 
smirked.  "Tell me, why do you do it?"
	Sandi's eyes narrowed.  "What do you mean by that?"
	"Come on.  You know what I mean.  The constant jockeying for 
position, the need to be the most popular and the best dressed, with 
the cutest boyfriend-of-the-week.  Why do you do it?"
	"I wouldn't expect *you* to understand."
	"I didn't expect you to understand my paintings.  You did.  You 
surprised me, and that's not easy to do.  Maybe I'll surprise you a
little."
	If looks could kill, Sandi would have been talking to a dead 
girl.  "This doesn't leave this elevator, got it?"
	"Put me on the rack and I won't tell a soul."
	"Not even Ku-winn's cousin?"
	"`DARIA.' And, you should know by now, they're sisters."
	"Oh, like who *doesn't* know that?  I just like to see Ku-winn 
sawett about it whenever she walks by."
	"Wow, who'd have thought we'd have so much in common?"
	Sandi smiled a bit, but only for a moment.  "Look, it's important 
for me to have a little conterol over things.  Maybe I lean on Stacy 
a bit, but that's thee way she is.  She's a follower.  I didn't make 
her that way, any more than I made Tiffany a compalete moron.  Then along 
comes Ku-winn, who goes through this whole facade of being bubbleheaded 
and cute, just so she can take my place.  Well, I don't back down that 
easy.  I'm thee Peresident of thee Fashion Club, and even though I'll 
admit that thee whole thing is stupid..."  She drew in breath -- if Jane 
didn't know better, she'd have said it sounded almost like a sob.  "...I 
need it, I have to take charge and know I've got a handle on something."
	"Why?"
	"Don't you see?  It's something I can conterol!"
	"Why is that so important?"
	"Because my mother controls everything *else,* dammit!"  From 
the sound of her voice, Sandi was close to tears.  That level of honesty 
isn't for amateurs.
	There wasn't much Jane could say to that.  _I guess no matter 
what kind of parents you have,_ she thought rather inanely, _they will 
eventually end up driving you crazy._  She waited what felt like a very
long time for Sandi to compose herself.  "Look..." she finally began.  
"I'm sorry, I--"
	"Save your pity, all right?  That's thee *last* thing I need!"  
Sandi tied the scarf back onto her head and slapped the sunglasses back 
on her face.  It was a pretty clear dismissal.
	Jane started to stand up -- and got knocked to the floor as the 
elevator started moving again.  "Oof!!"  She looked at Sandi and smiled 
widely.  Having her back turned, Sandi didn't see it, so Jane sighed 
and started putting away the paintings.  "Sandi, just so you know, I 
keep my word.  No one's going to know what got said in here."
	"thnx."

				      * * *

With a *ding*, the elevator doors opened into a lobby crowded with 
people.  Jane and Sandi burst from the elevator and made a beeline for 
the ladies' room.  "One side, coming through!" Jane barked.  "Hey Daria, 
get my stuff for me, will you?"
	"Huh?" Daria wondered intelligently and articulately.  But her 
query would go unanswered, as Jane and Sandi both shouldered through 
the restroom door.  She shrugged and went into the elevator to retrieve 
the portfolios.

				      * * *

Sandi checked her rash in the mirror over the restroom sink, sighed 
discontentedly, and adjusted the scarf and sunglasses to cover it.  Jane 
emerged from a stall.  "You all right?"
	"I'm fine."
	Jane started to make further conversation, then thought better 
of it.  She washed her hands, then turned to leave.
	"Jane, wait!"
	"Yeah?"
	"Umm...listen..."  Sandi sounded as if it were going to cost 
her skin -- more than the hairspray had already cost her, let alone the 
confession -- to say what she was going to say.  "Do you suppose that, 
if I ever were in real terouble, and needed a, um..."
	"Friend?"
	"Yeah."
	Jane smirked.  "You'll find me at the unpopular side of the 
cafeteria."
	"Thanks."  Sandi gave Jane a genuine, heartfelt smile, then left 
the room.

				      * * *

Back in her own room, Jane was working on a canvas while Daria just hung 
out.  "So, I have another appointment for next week.  I think I'll take
the stairs this time."
	"I can't believe that after almost four hours locked up with 
Sandi, you haven't gone absolutely barking mad."
	"It wasn't easy.  But, it wasn't as hard as I might have
imagined."
	"What the hell did you guys find to talk about?"
	"Oh, you know, stuff."
	"Right," Daria replied, skeptical but not pushing it.  "So, 
what's that you're working on?"
	"Nothing that can't wait."  Jane tossed her palette and paint-
brush on the table   "Besides, I seem to remember owing you a pizza.  
Let's go get it."
	"Now you're talking."  They both got up and left the room.  Jane 
kept Daria talking, to direct her attention away from the painting she'd 
been working on.  It wasn't finished, but even in its current partial 
state, it would have been awkward to explain.  It clearly showed a 
thoughtful-looking Sandi, scarf tied around her head, sunglasses held 
in one hand, wearing Jane's jacket.
	It was a pretty good fit, actually.

ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	I'll try to keep these short as well.
	I don't know if it'd really shut down the city, but it probably 
wouldn't do the car any good, spontaneous automotive combustion or not.
	Yes and no, actually.  In "Gym Dandy," the character then known 
as "Rust" says to Lynn, "And if you're going to be standing on my neck 
again, a bit more gentleness?"
	Interesting that this story, with its mention that Sandi's just 
humoring Quinn's pretenses about her relationship to Daria, came out 
before "Lucky Strike" officially revealed the same thing.  I guess great 
(or at least greatly warped) minds really *do* think alike.
	I might have liked to see a scene with Linda and Daria, but I'm 
not the author here.  I've shared "things I'd like to see" lists with 
Jan in e-mail, but with the full understanding that she and her Muse 
have veto power.
	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 points 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.  This storyline is copyright 2001 Mike Yamiolkoski and 
was adapted (with permission) by Austin Loomis (to whom the adaptation 
is also copyright 2001).
	All characters, locations and incidents are either imaginary 
or else 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 (and the rest of the text) 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 adaptor 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, Mike Yamiolkoski 
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:111,208,313,407,506 BB+ FCT -DT+ q fJ^fj^fD