PREVIOUSLY, ON _THE LOOK-ALIKE SERIES_:
	"First you're the Olsen Twins, then you're the Mowery Sisters!..."
	"...The Smythe?"  "One of Dad's relations...."
	"...How's Kate anyway?"  "Please let's not bring my mother into 
this...."
	"...I'm three months *older* than her, remember?..."
	"...I met Jerome...she was three months pregnant...Kate -- that 
was his wife..."
	"...You won't stop me!  I was *promised* this!..."
	"...How hard can a Jerome Peregrine Smythe be to find?..."
	"...It's bad.  She's in a coma.  She could die."

_The Look-Alike Series_
(Daria fan-fiction by Canadibrit)
season 3, episode 1: "To Kill a Misery Chick"
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis

"It's like a soap, a _Dallas_ or a _Dynasty_
We live in hope, to put them out their misery
What a freaky family..."
	-- Pop Will Eat Itself, "Familus Horriblis"

ACT I: SHE'S GONE WHERE THE GOBLINS GO

"And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
 I'll see you on the dark side of the moon"
	-- Pink Floyd, "Brain Damage"

In her padded room, Daria Morgendorffer, who'd been calling herself that 
for seventeen years and wasn't ready to change it just yet, was lying 
on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  After a short interval of this, 
she went to the calendar on the wall, where the day was ringed in red.  
She decided that ignoring the situation wasn't going to make it go away.  
*She* deserved this sendoff, after all.  Daria sighed and went to her 
closet.
	In her own room, Daria's friend Jane Lane was dressed in most 
of her usual outfit -- black shorts, leggings, boots and V-neck T-shirt.  
She reached into her closet and pulled out a long-sleeved black shirt 
much like the red one that normally completed the ensemble.  She pulled 
the black shirt on and rolled up the sleeves the way she would have done 
for the red.
	In his room, Andrew Philip McIntyre, looking grim and pale and 
generally like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a little too long, 
stepped out of the closet where he kept his clothes and his sleeping 
bag, wearing a black sweater with his usual black jeans and Doc Martens.  
He grabbed a bag from the corner of the room and walked out.
	He stepped out the front door of not-so-stately McIntyre Manor 
to see Sir Naps-a-Lot's blue Plymouth idling on the road in front of
the house.  Jane was behind the wheel, while Daria sat in the back.  
As arranged, Erudite Emerald was matching the fashion statement made 
by Art-Smart Scarlet and the Psycho-Maverick himself; she was wearing 
her traditional black pleated skirt over the black leggings and matching 
turtleneck from Narcissa's "pseudo-intellectual poser with accessories 
from the street fair" phase.  A.P. climbed into the front passenger 
"shotgun" seat and tossed the bag into the empty seat behind him.  He 
nodded to Jane, and the Plymouth drove off.
	Presently, they arrived at the cemetery, pulling up in front 
of the gates and stopping.  From atop a small ridge, the trio sat in 
grim silence and watched as, below them and at a fair distance, a small 
funeral party began to disperse.
	A short while later, A.P. pointed downward.  The service was 
over, the grave had been filled in, and the area was deserted.  They 
all got up and moved down the ridge to the tombstone.
	A.P. reached into the bag and produced one of those wacky plastic 
dancing flowers you can buy at Spencer's and other novelty gift shops 
of much ilk; it was orange.  Daria took it off his hands.  He produced 
a red flower and handed it to Jane.  Then he took out a blue one.  They 
set their flowers in a row on top of the tombstone.  Finally, A.P. 
produced a boom box and hit PLAY on the tape.  There was a moment of 
tape hiss, which soon gave way to a chorus of midgets singing loud enough 
to make the flowers dance.
	"o/~ Ding-dong, the witch is dead
	Which old witch?  The Wicked Witch... o/~"
	"Good-bye," said Daria.
	"Good riddance," Jane added.
	"Rot in hell," A.P. very bitterly advised Angela Li, and they 
all walked away without looking back.
	"o/~ She's gone where the goblins go
	Below, below below, yo-ho
	Let's open up and sing and ring the bells... o/~"

				      * * *

Later, in the unhallowed halls of Lawndale High, the three of them had 
congregated at Daria's locker.  They all looked twitchy, A.P. worst of 
all.  On the verge of going into speed-rant mode, he observed, "I hate 
this.  I oughta be there.  I mean, what if something happens and we get 
there after school and they tell us she..."
	"I know, A.P.," Daria attempted to sooth her boyfriend; "I know.  
But there's not much you can do by being there."
	"Anyway," Jane pointed out, "Trent's there.  He swore he'd call 
the school if there was any change."
	Brooke passed by then, accompanied by Tori Jericho, both slowing 
as they stared at the trio, the way cars do when they pass a wreck.  
Daria, Jane and A.P. glared at Brooke and Tori until the duo sped up 
their pace in an away-ward direction.
	"The damn gossip vultures don't help either," A.P. muttered once 
the Popularity Police were gone.
	"It'll get worse," Daria observed from experience.
	"*Much* worse," Jane pointedly added.
	Realization hit Daria like a gentle caress from a taser.  "Oh, 
god..."  She noticed A.P.'s puzzled look.  "You and I have O'Neill first 
thing."
	"You know, wimpy guy, teaches English, cries at the least little 
thing?"
	"I've seen him in the face of genuine tragedy.  It's not 
something I'd care to repeat."
	A.P. tried to stay hopeful.  "I'm thinking total breakdown just 
*looking* at a shooting victim?"
	"Think harder."
	"Think `recovery time,'" Jane added.
	A.P. thought, as requested.  "So after he's through with his 
own nervous breakdown...he'll focus on the one he thinks *we're* about 
to have?"
	A nod.  "Think walking, talking self-help book."
	There was a moment's silence while he digested that.
	"Is it too late to call in sick?"  The bell rang, indicating 
that *now* it was.  "Damn."

				      * * *

Lunchtime found them in the cafeteria, staring at a bizarre, pasty gray 
substance served over white mush that had probably been rice in a former 
lifetime.  "Wallpaper paste?" wondered A.P., vaguely curious.
	"Chow mein," Daria replied distractedly.
	A blink.  "Really?"
	A moment of silence...and, as if summoned by her element, Andrea 
walked over.  "News?"
	"No," Daria replied.
	"Damn."
	"You said it," agreed Jane.
	Black Magic Woman then turned to A.P.  Sounding almost admiring, 
she observed, "Nice."
	He shrugged.  "Eh."  Andrea walked away, leaving Jane to stare 
at A.P.  "Wimp-in-the-Willows asked how I was feeling.  You know, 
emotionally?"  After letting the news sink in, he said simply, "I told 
him."
	Daria looked sidelong at her boyfriend.  "With an eloquence and 
darkness of spirit I didn't know he had."
	"Direct quote from one of Purple Peril's short stories."  Jane 
looked surprised.  "I have a memory."
	"I'm not going to ask," Jane insisted.  "I don't want to know."  
_Not about that, anyway._  "But I assume the reaction was..."
	"He went fetal.  And the last clear words I heard him say were 
`Make the hurting stop, Pinky!'"
	"Oh.  Okay."  A pause to digest that.  "Change of subject?"
	No answer.
	Daria started poking at the sludge on her tray, tuning out the 
world in favor of her own thoughts.
	A moment later, Jodie Abigail Landon and Michael Jordan Mackenzie 
walked over, carefully.
	Jodie opened discussion.  "Um...hey, guys."
	"Yo."
	"Hey-ho, Captain Sanity.  GPA Girl."
	Mack spoke next.  "Um...can we ask...?"
	"Are you asking how she is?"
	"Or are you asking us to clear up what you got from," Jane made 
the "scare quotes" gesture with her fingers, "`the mill'?"
	"Well," Jodie had to confess, "both."
	"Lynn's comatose -- she's been unconscious since the attack.  
The doctors can't say when or *if* she'll come around."
	"And as to the other thing," A.P. interjected, "I really don't 
want to go into it here."
	"Suffice it to say that Ms. Li got out of jail somehow, went 
insane and came after us."
	Mack had heard as much, but needed some points cleared up.  
"How'd she get out, though?"
	"Well," A.P. shrugged, "she's gotta know a lot about security 
systems by now..."
	"Comparison shopping will do that," Daria noted, briefly tuning 
in the conversation.
	"We're serious," Jodie half-snapped.
	"Actually," Jane tried to sound casual, "we think someone broke 
her out."
	"You're kidding."  After a moment, she saw they weren't.  "But 
who...and *why?*"
	A shrug.  "Dunno.  I bet she paid someone to break her out if 
she ever got into more trouble than high-priced lawyers could handle."  
After a moment, Jane thought of something and turned to Daria.  "Um, 
no offense."
	Daria had gone back into her thoughtful trance and didn't even 
seem to notice, leaving Jane a little worried.
	"I wonder, though," A.P. went pensive.  "There was that `I was 
promised this' crack..."
	"Yeah; `promised this' by the voices inside her head, probably.  
She was *way* off-beam."  She wearily turned back to Jodie and Mack.  
"We don't know a whole lot."
	There was a brief pause while everyone digested all this.
	"Sorry," sighed Jodie.  "You obviously don't want to talk about 
this."
	"So," A.P. wondered, "what *have* people been saying?"
	Mack and Jodie looked flustered, obviously trying to decide where 
to start.
	Jane lost patience quickly.  "Come on, you two.  Spill."
	Jodie was extremely reluctant to go on, but did so anyway.  
"They're saying it was a gangland hit."
	A.P. and Jane just *looked* at her.  Daria continued to poke 
at her alleged food, oblivious.
	Mack had the grace to look sheepish.  "It's not like we 
*believed* it or anything..."
	"But...well..."
	"Knowing us," Jane noted wryly, "you wanted to be sure."
	"Well..."  It trailed off.
	"That's almost cool," A.P. had to admit.  After a moment's 
thought, he reiterated, "*Almost.*"
	Jodie and Mack looked at Jane, then at A.P., then at Daria, who 
was still paying no attention.  They obviously wanted straightforward 
confirmation, but no one was giving it to them.
	"Um...are they letting Lynn have visitors?"
	"Yeah.  The doctors think that maybe talking to her would help.  
You know, if she can hear things."  After a moment's thought, A.P.'s 
tone turned morbid.  "They aren't even strict about visiting hours, and 
that's *not* a good sign."
	Jodie sighed.  "Well, I'll try to drop in later.  Mom wants me 
to sign in and out these days...now that she can't track me via my extra-
curriculars."  She gave them a wry little smirk.
	A.P. sounded bitter.  "At least your parents give a damn."
	Jodie looked at him curiously, but saw the expression on his 
face and decided not to press the issue.


ACT II: GENUS HORRIBILIS?

"Twisting and turning, your feelings are burning
 You're breaking the girl"
	-- Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Breaking the Girl"

Daria, Jane and A.P. walked into the main reception area at Cedars of 
Lawndale and watched as a man in a suit, with hair a familiar shade of 
brown, spoke to the receptionist.  In a tired voice wherein one could 
barely detect the tattered remnants of a British accent, he insisted, 
"Listen, I would just like to know how she's doing.  I *am* family, after 
all."
	"Technically," A.P. observed coldly.
	Jerome Peregrine Smythe, father of Lynn Cullen and (apparently) 
of Daria as well, turned around.  Apart from currently looking a bit 
pale and haggard, he hadn't changed much from the man Helen had described 
-- basically a male version of his known and presumptive daughters, 25 
years older and with shorter hair.  "Hello, A.P.," he sighed.  "I..."  
Then he got his first real look at Daria, who was looking at him much 
the same way she'd looked at Lynn when they'd first met in what was then 
Ms. Li's office -- the same mix of curiosity and deadpan assessment she'd 
seen reflected back at her -- but with some accusation thrown in.  He 
frankly stared a moment, then blinked and cleared his throat.  "You...
must be the friends Lorna mentioned.  A pleasure to meet you...though 
I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."
	"Well," A.P. said quite sardonically, "you recognized me, and 
you didn't mistake Daria for Lynn.  I'm almost impressed."
	Jerome blinked; one could see the suspicion forming on his face.  
"Daria..."
	With her usual complete lack of inflection, Daria confirmed his 
fears.  "Morgendorffer."
	Dead silence fell over the lobby.  Jerome stared at Daria in 
complete shock.  Daria stared back unwaveringly.  Jane and A.P. watched 
them; Jane was baffled by the whole thing, but A.P., to whom Daria had 
finally told the truth during their discussion of his and Lynn's long 
and checkered past, watched with interest, clearly enjoying the prospect 
of watching Jerome squirm.
	Jane's curiosity finally got the better of her.  "Um..."
	Daria cut her off with a _now is not the time_ hand gesture.  
"Lynn's comatose.  The doctors are being vague about her chances for 
survival."  She thought about that.  "I think I've said that about ten 
times today.  Maybe I should just print some leaflets and hand them out 
when people ask."
	"Or perhaps just wear a sign," Jerome suggested.  "Uses less 
ink and paper and there's none of the effort of handing things out."  
Daria raised an eyebrow at him -- that wasn't the reaction she'd been 
expecting.  "My next query would be who did this."
	Jane sighed tiredly.  "It's a very long story."
	"It might bore you," A.P. snarked.
	Jerome raised an eyebrow.  "Do you speak to all your elders this 
way?"
	"No.  Some we actually respect."
	Daria cut in.  "Can I just confer with my colleagues for a
moment?"
	Jerome raised an eyebrow, but nodded.  Daria hauled Jane and 
A.P. out of earshot.
	"What?  *What?*" A.P. insisted.  "You don't actually want to 
*tell* him about this, do you?"
	Jane was still a little confused.  "Why not?  What am I missing 
here?"
	"He just flaked off to God-knows-where!" the livid Maverick went 
on.  "You *know* what he drove her to when he did that!  He doesn't 
*deserve* to know what's been going on in her life!"
	"A.P.," Daria tried to interject, "if you'd just..."
	Jane was on the verge of freaking out.  "Daria...A.P....what 
the hell is going on here?  You're both being really rude to the guy 
and..."
	"He *deserves* it!" A.P. thundered.  "Trust me on this one!"
	"A.P., shut *up!*"  Daria gave him a moment to recover from the 
shock of her shouting at him, then went on.  "Think about this for two 
seconds.  What did you tell Lorna when you got her on the phone?"
	"That Lynn was in the hospital..."
	"And yet he asked who did this.  Not *what,* but *who.*"  A brief 
digestive silence followed this.  "He knows something.  Or at least, 
he suspects something.  And if we share information with him, he might 
be gracious enough to do the same for us."
	There was one of those pauses when you can almost feel the 
Universe aging.
	"It doesn't mean I have to like him."
	"No.  It doesn't."  Said understandingly.  "I'll talk to him 
-- alone -- and fill you in when we're through."
	Jane had officially had enough.  "Now wait just a damn minute.  
You're keeping something from me -- both of you -- and I think I'd really 
like to know what it is."
	Daria looked at her a moment, torn.  Finally, she sighed.  "I'm 
going to go over and talk to him.  And when I get back, I will fill you 
in.  On *all* of it."  With that, she walked towards Jerome.  Jane and 
A.P. watched as she said something to him; he responded with a comment 
that made her raise an eyebrow.  Then Daria and Jerome walked away.
	Jane looked at A.P.  "Like father, like daughter?"
	A.P. was slightly nervous.  He knew Art-Smart Scarlet was no 
fool, but he hadn't really expect her to start putting the pieces 
together already.  "Oh yeah.  Purple Peril is nearly *all* Smythe."
	Jane looked thoughtful.

				      * * *

Daria and Jerome sat across from each other at a table in the cafeteria.  
She studied him, judging every flicker of expression.  Even to a trained 
eye like hers, his anger and guilt were just barely visible; most people 
wouldn't even have guessed at them.
	Outwardly calm, he wondered, "Would you happen to know if this 
Angela Li had powerful friends?"
	"As a matter of fact, she did.  Mostly in the school board and 
local government.  All bought and paid for with money earmarked for our 
education."
	"I see.  But I was thinking of...well, I'd say less law-abiding, 
but from the sounds of things...Let's just say more notably notorious."
	"I seriously doubt it," Daria replied with a fair certainty.  
"Lynn would have said something about that...or at least used it to her 
advantage somehow."
	Jerome seemed curious.  "But you don't doubt she would have
known."
	"No."  _Now, should I elaborate on that oblique statement, or...? 
-- Oh, what the hell._  "Lynn has certain talents, and one of the most 
notable of them is keeping her ear to the ground."
	That almost looked like professional interest he was showing.  
"Gossip channels?  Informants?"
	_Let's see if we can put a shock into him._  "Bugs.  Hidden 
cameras.  Carries a dictaphone everywhere -- just in case.  She and A.P. 
were considering vampire taps in the school's now-inoperative security 
systems before Ms. Li's arrest.  And they've never said as much, but 
I think those two have hacked into the school computer systems a few 
times."
	"Straight to the horse's mouth -- I understand."  He sounded 
like he approved.
	Daria looked at him a moment.  The intended shock tactic had 
failed miserably, leaving her briefly at sixes and sevens.  Then she 
thought about the whole scenario and its implications for the current 
situation, and decided to go for the throat.  "And what's *your* role 
in all this?  What do you know?"
	Now Jerome was caught off-guard.  "Excuse me?"
	He said it so much like Daria herself would say it that she was 
thrown minutely off-stride again, but she recovered and started ticking 
off points on her fingers.  "You knew Lynn had been hurt by a `who' 
instead of just a `what,' without being told.  You weren't surprised 
by the fact that someone would want to attack Lynn.  You seem convinced 
that Ms. Li's attack had more behind it than revenge, when the only 
evidence of that is her `I was promised this' remark, which could have 
meant anything from Mafiosi to the blue gnomes in her underwear drawer."  
She waited while it sank in, then moved on to the fourth finger.  "And 
you look just a bit too penitent.  Even for someone who deserted the 
girl he thought was his only child eight years ago."
	A moment of slightly cold silence greeted this.  When Jerome 
spoke again, he chose his words carefully, knowing now what he was 
dealing with.  "I won't lie to you, or fob you off with riddles and half-
truths...mainly because you'd work it all out from the clues I'd give 
if I even half-explained.  The truth is..."  He sighed.  "The truth is 
that it's better all round if I keep what I know to myself for the time 
being.  I would ask you to respect that."
	Daria opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the 
ringing of a cellphone.  Jerome reached into his inside jacket pocket 
to retrieve the phone -- and the motion of his jacket gave Daria a brief 
glimpse of the gun in his shoulder holster.  His attention was on the 
phone, so he didn't notice Daria's briefly widened eyes.  She began to 
realize almost at once how fortunate that probably was, and decided not 
to press the issue after all.
	"Smythe," he said into the phone.  A moment of silence while 
the caller spoke.  "No, Lawndale, actually.  Family business."  Yadda 
yadda yadda.  "Couldn't tell you, I'm afraid."  Blah blah.  "Look, I'm 
in the middle of something; could I call you back?"  Yatter yatter.  
"Later on this evening, then.  Bye."  He thumbed the phone off and set 
it on the table, looking at Daria, who'd restored her normal lack of 
facial expression.
	"All right.  I won't ask -- for now."  _Mainly because I have 
a feeling that knowing would be more than my life is worth._
	He seemed slightly relieved.  "All right then."  They both needed 
a moment before he went on, slightly derisive.  "For now, though, I'm 
going to have to find a way to keep an eye on that wayward daughter of 
mine...saving your presence, of course."
	"No, I'm as wayward as the next cynic.  I'm just not quite so 
proactive about it."
	He smirked slightly at that.  "Well, if Lynn is going to run 
around making enemies of this sort, Kate won't be of much use when things 
go awry."  He took a moment to swallow his bitterness, but some of it 
leaked through the suppression when he went on.  "Which reminds me -- 
where *is* Kate?  If she catches me here, I'm a dead man."
	"I wouldn't worry," Daria snarked.  "She left for Tokyo a few 
days ago.  Business."
	"Tokyo."  It visibly took a few seconds before Jerome trusted 
himself to elaborate on that word.  "Her daughter is hospitalized...and 
she goes to Tokyo.  On business."  A pause for more bile-swallowing, 
real or metaphorical, then he finished the observation.  "And she has 
the utter cheek to call *me* an unfit parent."
	Certain things were now blatantly obvious, but Daria decided 
to confirm them anyway.  _Don't feel too bad; at least *you* can take 
a hint if it's delivered with a sledgehammer.  Quinn hasn't even gotten 
*that* far._  "So severing all ties with Lynn wasn't your decision."
	That only slightly offended Jerome, but it was still enough to 
show.  "Do you honestly believe I'd desert my own daughter if I'd had 
any other option?  And really *think* about your answer!"
	Daria considered this a moment, couldn't find anything wrong 
with it -- and decided to take a shot in the dark.  "What has Kate got 
on you?"
	He instantly went on guard.  "Excuse me?"
	Daria was briefly taken aback by the immediate defensiveness 
-- she'd suspected she was going to hit a nerve, but hadn't expected 
it to be *that* obviously raw -- but pressed on anyway.  "If you didn't 
want to stop communicating with Lynn, Kate must have had something to 
use as leverage to make you back off...before your `bad influence' could 
corrupt Lynn too much."  She paused to survey the effect she was having 
-- it was almost non-existent outwardly, but she knew appearances weren't 
everything and knew what to look for.  "But I suppose this is something 
else you won't risk giving me clues about?"
	"Precisely."
	They regarded each other a cool moment.
	"Are we done?"
	"Just about."  He paused to weigh his words, then went on, very 
carefully.  "Listen...I'm not about to lay any claims to parentage where 
you're concerned.  Nurture counts for far more than nature at this point. 
But, regardless, you are part of the family and, as far as possible, 
we look after our own."  Daria raised a skeptical eyebrow, which he 
ignored with some effort.  "What I'm trying to say is that, should you 
ever need to do so, you can call on me...or any other member of my family
...and be guaranteed any help and support you need."
	"I seem to have figured that one out for myself," she allowed 
as, slightly sadly.  "For one of...*our*...relatives, at least."
	Jerome looked at Daria for a moment, then sighed.  "If we have 
a moment...and I can't get the information I would like from the source 
-- for one reason or another -- would it be possible for you to tell 
me something about my...shall we say, legitimate daughter?"
	Daria looked at him for a long moment, letting him stew.  Then 
she relented.  "If I have to.  And I hope I don't."
	He nodded, conceding her point.  Daria got up, nodded an _excuse 
me_ to him, and walked out.  Jerome watched her leave.


ACT III: MAKE IT RIGHT

"Hold my breath as I wish for death
 Oh please God, wake me"
	-- Metallica, "One"

Jane was still in reception, sitting in a chair looking thoughtful, when 
Daria approached and sat down next to her.  "Where's A.P.?" she asked 
without preamble.
	"Sitting by Lynn," came the reply, followed by, "Talk."
	Daria sighed.  She hadn't been looking forward to this.

				      * * *

A.P. stood in the doorway of the hospital room.  He looked reluctant, 
and sad, and at a total loss.  Then he squared his shoulders and walked 
into the room.

				      * * *

Jane was staring at a deadpan Daria, who had just finished her rather
Gothic narrative.  "So what you're telling me is that, by meeting Lynn,
you didn't just meet some girl with an eerie but coincidental resemblance
to you.  You met your half-sister.  And the resemblance between you is so
strong because you got the same generous helping of Smythe genetics,
thanks to Helen's affair, as she did."
	"Well," Daria admitted, "there's still the off chance that it's 
just a really huge coincidence -- I'll probably talk to Jerome about 
having a blood test done.  But pretty much."
	Jane mulled this over in silence.
	Daria waited, slightly tense with anticipation.
	"So...anyone called _Sick, Sad World_ with this one yet?"
	They shared a half-smirk at the notion of Daria's yet again 
showing up on quality TV; Daria's showed slight relief.

				      * * *

In the hospital room, A.P. was sitting slumped in the chair next to the 
bed in a tired sort of way, not looking at the still figure occupying 
that bed.  "I'm supposed to talk to you.  Dunno what to say since I don't 
know if you can really hear me or not.  But I'll give it a shot."  He 
paused, attempting to consider.  "I mean, it's not like I haven't seen 
you asleep before or anything.  Your tenth birthday...when you finished 
_Sunset Blade_...a few movie nights -- man, did we *really* watch all 
the _Star Trek_ movies in one sitting?  And then at Jane's, when you 
were busting your butt over that writing comp."
	Now he looked over at the unconscious Lynn, watching her with 
sad eyes.  After a moment, and with a visible effort, he looked away.  
"This is different, though.  This is...this is *wrong,* it..."  He kept 
up the struggle another moment, then renounced it.  "*Crap,* I can't 
do this!  *You're* the one with the words!  I could talk forever and 
*still* not get out all the stuff I want to say!  But when I talk to 
you, doesn't matter how much I'm babbling; you always get it!  Who's 
going to get it if..."
	Rather than finish that sentence, he sighed and slumped further 
in the chair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.  He needed 
some *real* sleep.  "I jus' want you back, is all..."

				      * * *

Now it was Daria's turn to look thoughtful.
	Jane watched her shrewdly.  "So...are you going to tell her about 
all this?"  Bleak look.  "If you get the chance?"
	A slightly forlorn sigh.  "I don't know, Jane.  Maybe it wouldn't 
be such a good idea..."
	"You're afraid she'll knock you back -- not accept you as a
sister."
	Daria was mildly surprised.  "In a way, yes.  How did..."
	"Call it best friend's intuition."  Daria must have still looked 
blank.  "Listen; think about her family -- the members of it she knows 
anything about, anyway.  They either don't give a damn, don't really 
understand her, or are living too far away to count as close.  Then 
factor in a fully-grown sister living in the same town that she can 
actually relate to -- no pun intended.  Hell, you've even gone through 
the sibling rivalry crap, even if you didn't know that's what it was."
	Daria thought about all this, especially that apt summary of 
the writing contest.  "That's actually true."
	"But how do *you* feel about it?"
	"I...guess I feel the same way you describe her as feeling."
	A slight evil smirk.  "No surprise there, huh?"
	Daria was actually mildly amused, but made a half-hearted attempt 
to conceal it anyway.  "Ha, ha.  No, seriously.  I never could work out 
how I fit into the Morgendorffer family -- at least on the Barksdale 
side, there was Amy to point to and say, `yes, I'm related to these 
people.'  And though I do care about Quinn...well, let's just say that 
I would have given a lot to have had a sister like Lynn when I was 
growing up."  She needed a moment to nerve herself before going on.  
"Maybe I can't accept Jerome Smythe as a real father, but..." her voice 
dropped to a near-whisper.  "Lynn *is* family.  Don't ask me to explain 
it."
	"Don't need to."  Daria raised an eyebrow.  "Well, you were cagey 
with me for about a week after we met.  With her, you brought her to 
your house on day one."  _That hurt, but not *too* much.  She was your 
second friend; you were more comfortable with the idea that Morgendorffer 
Home Base wouldn't scare them away._  "Maybe some part of you knew.  
I don't know."  Daria blushed a little.  "So now, instead of having one 
whole sister, you have two half-sisters."  She thought of something, 
then said it, slowly.  "Lynn...and Quinn..."
	_Why yes, they *do* rhyme._  "Please -- I was in denial about 
that.  This situation is weird enough."  They shared another small smirk 
at that.

				      * * *

A.P. was still sprawled out in his chair by the bed, fast asleep and 
snoring.  After a moment, a hand shook him softly by the upper arm.  
He stirred slightly, vaguely awake but with eyes still closed.  "Hngmph?" 
he wondered.
	"Keep it down," said a slightly hoarse voice; "I have a headache."
	"Hmmkay..."  Then he realized who'd spoken, bolting fully awake 
and turning around so fast he nearly fell out of his chair.
	Lynn was awake and looking at him, her expression wide-eyed but 
unreadable.  "You okay?"
	A.P. nodded, still trying to process.  "Eee..."
	"Daria?  Jane?"
	Another nod.  "Eee..."
	Lynn breathed a long, deep sigh of relief as she propped herself 
into a sitting position.  "Good.  That's worth a headache the size of 
Milwaukee."
	A.P.'s brain had finally processed the new info.  "You're okay!"  
To Lynn's unutterable surprise, he hugged her.
	"Um...ow.  Bruises.  Pain."
	But A.P. wasn't letting go.  Hugging her was evidently the only 
way he knew how to say _Thank God you're okay_ without tripping over 
the words, and when she thought about it, Lynn understood that.  After 
a moment, she hugged him back, but was still privately wondering _What 
the hell merits *this* reaction?_  Then she looked up and saw Daria and 
Jane in the doorway, both looking immensely pleased at this turn of 
events.  She blinked at them.  "He's hugging.  You're smiling."  _This 
never happens._  "I died and went to hell, didn't I."
	Daria and Jane both gave her a _that's not funny_ look.  Lynn 
raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
	They didn't *need* words.  They were just glad to have her back.


ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	The style of the "Previously" segment was less _Star Trek_ and 
more _Gargoyles_.  (Hmm...a Daria/Gargoyles crossover.  Well, someone 
started to cross them over with Beavis and Butt-head once...)
	I'm somewhat familiar with PWEI (well, I know the name and a 
few album titles and lyrics), but I didn't know that exact quote, so 
wouldn't have thought of it.  It fits, though.  Thanks, Jan.
	I got the term "scare quotes" from _Suck_, purveyors of "wacky 
irony" since 1995.
	"Genus horribilis" is, as far as I can tell, the proper Latin 
form of the PWEI song title.  Any Latin scholars are welcome to correct 
me on it, of course.
	I got the blue gnomes (well, the little blue fairies if you want 
to get technical) from Terry Pratchett's _Maskerade_, a novel of the 
Lancre Witches, guest-starring the Ankh-Morpork City Watch.  Jan tells 
me Lew's a Pratchett fan, so he may have got them from the same place.  
Alternatively, he may have got them, and their place of residence in 
the underwear drawer, from the place Crazy Nutso got them (goin' up to 
South Park, gonna have myself a time...).
	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, originator of 
the template for this notice, has pointed out, work-for-hire sucks the 
yolks from ostrich eggs.)  Monty Python quotes and characters are 
copyright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd.  Lyrics to "Ding-Dong, 
the Witch is Dead" copyright 1939 Harold Arlen, E.Y. "Yip" Harburg, and 
Metro-Goldwyn Mayer, most recently renewed by the Turner Entertainment 
library.  Other songs lyrics are copyright other people, from Roger 
Waters to James Hetfield.  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, A.P. McIntyre and Jerome 
Peregrine Smythe are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" Neilson, 
as is this storyline, which was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the 
prose format version is copyright 2000) with 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 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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