_The Look-Alike Series_
Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit
Season 3, episode 10: "None of Your Affair"
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis


ACT 1: KARMA POLICE

Lynn Cullen sat at her table at Biers, not looking -- or, for that 
matter, feeling -- particularly amused.  "No way in hell!"
	"It's kind of expected, Cullen," her contact pointed out.
	"Oh, *God,* Rust, this is damn short notice!"
	"Hey, if I had told you any sooner, you would have found some 
way to worm out of it.  This way, I have half a shot at making you do 
this."
	"I *hate* this sort of thing."
	"I'm not exactly overjoyed about it either, Cullen, but it's 
something we *both* have to do.  You particularly, and you need an
escort."
	"There's no way."  She tried to think of a more detailed excuse.  
"I haven't got the right clothes, for one thing.  And I have no idea 
what `the right clothes' *are* for this."
	"Come on, you said some fashion fiend owes you a favor.  Call 
it in."
	A sigh.  "I was hoping to save this for a better..."  She trailed 
off with a panicked look.  "Oh, hell..."  She dipped under the table.
	The cause of her disappearing act, Jake Morgendorffer, approached 
the bar and waved at the bartender.  He nodded and brought Jake a beer.  
Jake looked at it and sighed.
	Anthony DeMartino, Lynn's history teacher at Lawndale High, came 
in, went through the same dumb-show Jake had done, and was presented 
in turn with a beer.
	He looked sideways at his neighbor.  "Mr. Morgendorffer.  I 
didn't think this was your *normal* drinking establishment."
	"Mr. DeMartino, it's just Jake here.  And it isn't.  I wanted 
to be somewhere I hadn't been before.  Where no one knows me."
	Under the table, Lynn winced and cursed a little under her breath.
	"Okay...Jake.  And it's Tony."  He stared a moment at his fellow 
military-school survivor.  "I *know* about wanting to be somewhere where 
no one knows your face.  But I didn't think *you* would fall prey to 
that sort of mood."
	Jake sighed morosely and sipped his beer.  "Why not?  Am I too 
clueless to understand that the world isn't fair and that you can't trust 
anyone?"
	"Well, I wouldn't be able to *say.*  Not without knowing the 
problem."  A moment's thought told the Cyclops what the problem might 
be.  "Unless it's about the *rumors* I've been subjected to in that 
*infested shell* I call a place of employment.  About *Daria.*"
	Jake seemed surprised.  "Huh?"
	"It's *common knowledge* that she and the Cullen girl are 
related.  By common fathers.  And I assume *you* weren't...shall we say, 
*involved*...with Ms. Cullen."
	A deep sigh.  "No.  I wasn't."  Jake took a moment to decide 
he could let it out without risking another heart attack.  "Gah dammit, 
she lied to me.  All those years and she lied to me!  How could she do 
that?  I mean, to look at my own daughter...who I *thought* was my own 
daughter...and know that--"
	"Jake...I may not be the best placed to offer a *shred* of decent 
advice.  I never married.  I have no children - though, after *this* 
job, I think it's safe to say I would rather *castrate* myself than run 
the risk of producing another Kevin."
	"But...?" Jake wondered, hopeful that some sort of advice *was* 
forthcoming.
	"*Mrs.* Morgendorffer had an affair.  *Eighteen years* ago.  
But she came back to you."  He let that sink in.  "That's *something.*"
	There was a brief silence while it sank in the rest of the way.  
	Jake took a thoughtful sip of beer.  "Yeah," he mused.  "I guess 
it is."  He thought some more.  "Thank you."
	"If you *really* wish to express your gratitude, you will order 
a pitcher and *join* me in it - and in a game of pool.  I haven't had 
a decent game in *years.*"
	Jake smiled and turned to the bartender.  While both men's backs 
were turned, Lynn popped out from under the table.  "All right," she 
sotto'ed.  "I'll go.  But this is under protest."
	"I don't mind," the young man she called "Rust" assured her.  
"Now get out of here before they see you."
	And she slipped out.

				      * * *

Later, at Morgendorffer Home Base, Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer was 
asleep on the living room sofa, a sheaf of papers on her chest and 
several stacks of documents spread out on the coffee table and around 
her.  Jake opened the front door, walked in...and stopped when he saw 
his wife.  He watched her for a moment, then stretched out a hand...but 
stopped before quite touching her.  He smiled a little, though, before 
he walked away.

				      * * *

The next morning on the streets of Lawndale, Daria was walking to school 
with her friends, Jane Lane and Andrew Philip McIntyre.
	"I don't like it," A.P. observed.  He struggled silently with 
the words a moment, but couldn't think of any better way to say it than 
"I just don't like it, I tell you!  It's..."  He trailed off briefly, 
then resumed again, musing, "There's a Latiny word for fish..."
	"Piscine?" Daria suggested.
	"That's it!  There's something piscine about this whole thing."
	Jane and Daria looked at each other.  "You sure your mother 
didn't have another affair?" Jane asked Daria, under her breath.  "With 
*his* father, maybe?"
	"No," Daria replied, likewise sotto with the voice.  "He takes 
after the mother."
	"Oh.  It all makes sense now."  Pause for thought.  "Jake?"
	"Jane..."
	Hearing the warning in Daria's tone, Jane made a zipper motion 
across her mouth.
	"Look, you guys know what I'm talking about!" A.P. insisted.  
"She says she's at play rehearsals -- *I* haven't got play rehearsals!"
	"And how many rehearsals have you been to when *she* didn't have 
to be there?" Jane wondered, playing Devil's advocate.
	"Yeah, I know, I figured, but then I went in one day when she 
said she had a rehearsal and I didn't have a rehearsal and the place 
was *empty!*  It's piscine, I tell you!"
	"`You keep saying that word,'" quipped Daria, not really wanting 
to discuss this.  "`I do not think it means what you think it means.'"
	Whether A.P. didn't recognize the quote from S. Morgenstern's 
classic tale of true love and high adventure, or just didn't care, the 
cause was the same -- his jangled nerves -- as was the effect, his bark 
of "Shut up.  I'm trying here!"
	"Maybe," Jane offered, "some of those times she was rehearsing 
with Mystik Spiral.  Lead singers have to do that, you know."
	"Last Tuesday?"
	A slight frown.  "Nnnnnnnno."
	"Look, she wanders around all on her own without telling anyone 
where she's going or who she's with.  It's not like her."
	"Um...yes it is," Daria opined.
	"Well, it shouldn't be!  Who knows what might happen?  And 
anyway, it's a *mystery!*  And I'm going to solve it!  And *you're* going 
to help!"
	By this time, they had reached the school and were cutting 
through the parking lot.  Lynn's Mercedes, a probably-guilt-induced Xmas 
present from her mother, was parked in one of the spaces.  "Jinkies," 
Daria velma'ed.  "A clue."
	"Shut up!"
	A sigh.  "Sorry.  The fact is that I'm worried too but I *really* 
don't think I want to ask her about this."  Something in her voice gave 
them pause.
	"You know something we don't, don't you?" Jane asked.
	"Oh yeah."
	"*You're* keeping secrets too?"  A.P. threw his hands up in 
despair.  "Dammit, what's *wrong* with you two?"
	Daria's shoulders slumped.  "We're Smythes.  I have a feeling 
keeping secrets is something we *do.*"  That got her a pair of Looks 
from the others.  "Never mind."
	"No, not `never mind,'" Jane snapped.  "I'm getting kind of fed 
up with being dodged."
	Another sigh.  "Look, it's hard to explain."  That only hardened 
their Looks.  "Okay, okay.  So far, what I have is all circumstantial.  
Nor is it particularly helpful.  But of course, it's *all* worrying."
	They just kept Looking at her.  Daria took a deep breath, and 
began telling the tale.

				      * * *

If you've been following the season to date, you have a rough idea what 
she was telling them, so we'll go to her other-half sister, who enters 
the plot now.  Quinn Morgendorffer was at her locker, doing her lipstick, 
when a voice from behind her said, "Narcissa."
	Quinn spun around and saw that Lynn girl, looking kind of like 
she didn't want to be there.  What was the word Daria would have used?  
Reluctant, that was it.  "I wish you'd stop *calling* me that!"
	"The phrase `tough nuggets' springs to mind."  She gave that 
a moment to seep through the layers of cotton-candy inside Quinn's 
skull.  "You owe me a favor.  I'm calling it in."
	Quinn was instantly nervous.  "What *kind* of favor?"
	A sigh.  "I'll tell you when we get there.  How fast can you 
get out of your last class of the day?"
	"45 seconds from door to locker to outside."  Quinn answered 
with the certainty of someone who used to have three different end-of-
school escape routes, two of which she still employed -- one a fairly 
straight line, one with a detour that took her past Cashman's midtown 
location, and one convoluted one she used to use for ditching Daria, 
back when it was as much as her popularity was worth to admit being even 
a *little* related to her.
	"Add another 20 seconds to get to the parking lot..." Lynn mused, 
trailing off into a brief silence.  After a pause long enough to make 
Quinn hope it was over, she said, "Okay.  We leave *right* after school.  
Don't make me wait too long."  With that, she walked off.
	Ted DeWitt-Clinton approached, looking after Lynn, then at his 
extremely confused girlfriend.  "Hey, Quinn.  Um...what was that all 
about?"
	"I have *no* idea," Quinn confessed.  "But looks like our date's 
cancelled."
	Ted looked askance at her.  She just shrugged at him.  What else 
*could* she do?


ACT 2: JANEY'S GOT A GUN

"What did her daddy do?
 What did he put you through?"
	-- Aerosmith, "Janey's Got a Gun"

In the Lawndale High cafeteria, Lynn was reading _Urban Guerrilla Warfare 
the Belfast Way_ and ignoring her lunch completely -- since the lunch 
was a vaguely gray slop on limp vermicelli, can you blame her?  Daria, 
Jane and A.P. were looking askance at her.
	"So how's the family?" Daria asked, being the one who had the 
most business asking that.
	Lynn didn't look up.  "As far as I know, fine," she replied quite 
casually.  "I was on IRC with Jan the other night.  She told me that 
Lorna went nuts over those MP3s I sent of Mystik Spiral but she's been 
busy with promotional work and three guys -- all named Mark -- so she 
hasn't had time to e-mail."
	"And Jerome?" A.P. asked.
	Still no face-time from the Peril.  "Last I heard, he was in 
Pittsburgh, don't ask me why."
	There was a silence as they waited for elaboration.  They would 
not, however, get any such thing.
	Jane decided to break the silence.  "So...pizza after school?"
	Lynn remained face-down in her book.  "I'd love to, but I can't."
	"Well, I *know* you don't have a Spiral rehearsal because Trent 
told me that Rachel's sick and Nick's staying home with her..."
	"And Wimp-in-the-Willows has cancelled rehearsals for today," 
A.P. joined in; "I think he has a *big* date planned with Bitter Pill..."
	Daria decided to get to the point.  "So why not?"
	Lynn sighed, but still refrained from eye contact.  "I have to 
go shopping."  They all looked dubiously at her; even if she didn't see 
it, she felt it.  "You *do* remember I'm on my own in the house and there 
are certain chores that need doing?  Like provisioning?  Light bulbs, 
toilet paper, foodstuffs?"  She let them consider that.  It wasn't a 
complete lie, after all.  "Later on this evening I have homework."  She 
seemed to sink deeper into her book, which they wouldn't have thought 
possible.  The other Jacketeers just kept looking at her.

				      * * *

In the parking lot at the end of the day, Lynn hurried toward the Merc 
and hopped into the driver's seat.  Seconds later, Quinn showed up.  
Lynn looked at her watch.  "Great timing."
	"Thanks," Quinn replied, pleased despite herself.  There was 
a pause while she slid into the shotgun seat.  "Now where are we *going?*"
	A sigh.  "The world's second or third largest mall."  Lynn had 
to nerve herself a moment before she could continue.  "You're going to 
give me wardrobe advice."
	Quinn just *stared* at Lynn, who floored the accelerator and 
ripped out of the parking lot.  Jane and Daria exited the school building 
just in time to see the car -- and its passengers -- slip around a corner 
and out of sight.
	"What the hell is she doing with Quinn?" Jane boggled.
	"Well, that's helpful," Daria observed smugly.  "If I can't beat 
information out of *one* sister..."
	After a pause for consideration, Jane showed her comprehension 
with one of her trademark evil smirks.  "You're good.  Gotta hand it 
to you."
	Daria smirked back at her.

				      * * *

Helen was sitting at the kitchen table, feverishly working.  When Jake 
walked in, she didn't even notice.  When he sat down at the table, still 
silence, except her fingers tapping on the laptop.
	"Helen?" he said quietly.
	She abruptly stopped typing and looked up at her husband, almost 
fearfully.  "Jake!  I...you startled me."
	"Helen, I...I'm sorry for some of the things I said to you...
when I found out about..."
	"Maybe I deserved some of it," she confessed sadly.  After that 
had hung there long enough, she added, "I never meant to hurt you."
	"Helen...I wasn't ready to listen before.  I think I'm ready 
now."  He weighed his words a moment.  "Could you...maybe...tell me what 
happened?  With this man?"  More weighing.  "And why?"
	Helen looked unsure, so Jake tried a small reassuring smile.  
Helen looked down at the tabletop in front of her and seemed to collect 
herself.  From the kitchen doorway, Daria watched with a Mona Lisa smile, 
then turned and quietly left them alone.

				      * * *

Quinn approached Morgendorffer Home Base on foot and saw Daria sitting 
on the curb.  Confused, she walked over to her half-sister and sat down.  
"What are you doing out here?"
	"Mom and Dad are talking," came the explanation.
	Quinn's confusion only deepened.  "You mean *yelling.*"
	"No, I mean *talking.*  Like human beings."  Pause to let that 
sink in, if it was going to.  "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you.  I saw 
you riding with Lynn this afternoon.  Anything going on that I should 
know about?"
	"No, nothing," Quinn jittered, "I...I just..."  _Just can't think 
of a decent lie._  "I just can't tell you."
	"Quinn, this is something that you may not understand, but I'm 
really worried.  I think Lynn might be in some kind of real trouble and 
if I don't know what's going on, I can't help."
	"I...I can't, Daria.  I don't really know much of anything, 
anyway; she only told me what I needed to know to...to do what we did."
	A sigh.  "I don't believe this.  She's *my* friend and *my* 
sister and I have to ask *you* for information.  And you can't give it 
to me."
	"Ted asked me why anyone would go to gossip to find things out 
when you could ask at the source and get it straight."  There was a pause 
while they both considered that.  "Can't you ask her?"  Headshake.  "I 
promised.  I owe her."  Quinn swallowed her pride, then said, with real 
regret, "Sorry, Daria."  And she headed into the house.
	Daria looked up at the sky and hove a very deep sigh.  _What 
*is* it about the universe?_

				      * * *

The next morning in Jane's room, Daria was sprawled out across the bed 
in the "something eating at my soul" pose.  Jane was making a paper-clip 
chain without looking; her eyes were on Daria.  "She wouldn't *tell* 
you?"
	"I guess I can't blame her for that.  Lynn can be..."  She only 
needed to weigh the word a moment.  "...intimidating."  There really 
was no better word, so they both let it hang there a moment.  "But at 
least Mom and Dad are talking again.  Though I wish I knew whether it 
was about patching up their marriage or who pays the alimony."
	Short silence at that prospect.
	"Well, they have to start somewhere."  Pause for thought.  "Look, 
I know what'll cheer you up.  Remember when Lynn had us all over for 
that pizza thing at her house?"
	"You mean the most normal meeting-up we've had in weeks?  How 
could I forget?"
	"I was thinking of recreating that.  Maybe sit Lynn down, get 
into a friendly video marathon, raid the Cullen liquor cabinet, get her
foggy and interrogate her until she can't help but spill her guts."
	Thoughtful silence.
	"Damn, you're good."
	Jane smirked and reached for the phone to contact the Psycho-
Maverick.

				      * * *

And so they approached 15 Glenview Road.  Jane was driving the Plymouth, 
Daria riding shotgun, and A.P. in the back.  Jane stopped the car...and 
all three of them stared out the passenger side windows.  Daria looked 
unutterably confused, Jane horrified, and A.P. extremely pissed off.  
They articulated these sentiments in a common "What the *hell*...?"
	In the driveway of Chez Cullen, next to Lynn's Merc, was parked 
a very familiar rustbucket of a car.  And on the front doorstep, dressed 
in a very good suit, was that rattletrap's owner, young Thomas Sloane.  
The door opened, and Lynn emerged in a purple dress -- going for simple 
elegance; strapless, with a full knee-length skirt -- black low-heeled 
pumps and a small black purse.  Tom looked at her, smiled and bowed.  
She raised an eyebrow and smiled a Mona Lisa smile.  The three in the 
car were still staring.
	"Who the hell is *he?*" A.P. demanded through gritted teeth.
	Daria looked at Tom's car, with its layers of...  "Rust..."
	Back on the doorstep, Lynn shut and locked the door behind her.  
Tom looked at her, raised an eyebrow and held out his hand.  Lynn looked 
at him and said something they couldn't hear.  He replied.  Whatever 
he said, it made her sigh, dig in her purse and hand over her keys.  
They walked toward the cars together, and he opened the passenger door 
of the Merc.  She raised an eyebrow at him and sat down.  He shut the 
passenger door, moved to the driver's side and got in.
	As he started the Merc, Jane suddenly shifted the Plymouth into 
gear and drove away.  Daria and A.P. looked at her; her face suggested 
that she was lost in her own thoughts, and that none of them were very 
pleasant.
	"Jane?" Daria wondered.
	"Do you two know who that is?" A.P. snarled.  "I want to know 
who that guy is and why she's letting him drive the Merc!"
	"Jane..." Daria insisted.
	"I mean, she never told us about any...any *guy!*  Since when 
is she seeing a guy and not telling us?"
	Daria was starting to get worried now.  "*Jane!*"
	"We're gonna have to do something," Jane said in a distant way 
from whatever planet she'd retreated to.  "Those two...oh *God,* this 
is gonna be bad..."
	"Jane...before I die."
	Realization hit A.P.  "Waitaminit.  You don't like him.  This 
is good.  Having a good reason not to like him is good."  He let them 
sort through his syntax.  "Look, if this guy is doing something wrong, 
I want to know about it.  It'll give me a happy.  Give."
	"Look," Jane snapped, "it's not something I want to talk about..."
	"Tough," Daria replied.  "We need information.  Give."
	A sigh.  "Okay, but can I maybe not do it while I'm driving?"
	Daria and A.P. looked at her, shrugged and nodded.

				      * * *

So they adjourned to Pizza King.  Jane sat next to Daria, looking morose, 
frightened and angry all at the same time.  Daria showed concern; A.P., 
confusion and cheated anger.
	"Is this to do with why you broke up with Tom?" Daria led off.  
The image of young Thomas that'd appeared in her encounter with "the 
Light" had implied that was an important question and chided her for 
not pushing Jane to answer it.  Now, while the matter was on her friend's 
mind, seemed as good a time as any, and better than most, to ask.
	"Pretty much, yeah."  Jane gathered her courage.  "Look, I went 
over to his house while you were away in the country and invited him 
on an impromptu trip to the drive-in.  He seemed reluctant, but I pushed 
it and we went.  Things got a little...um...carried away and I put my 
hands under his shirt and...hello!  Kevlar!"
	"*Kevlar?*"
	"As in bulky body-armor bulletproof stuff Kevlar?" A.P. asked.
	"Yep," Jane confirmed bleakly.  "I got a little freaked and 
started yelling at him and...well, I flailed around and hit the glove 
compartment.  The lock on it doesn't work.  It opened.  And...he packs."
	"What, like luggage?"
	Daria felt dawn breaking over Marblehead.  "No.  Like firearms."
	"Great big damn gun," Jane observed into the silence.  "I got 
*really* freaked and took off."  She sighed.  "I realized next day that 
maybe it wasn't such a bad thing -- maybe it was kind of a cool thing..."
	"*Jane?*"
	"Well, I at least wanted to know *why* he was going around armed 
and armored, Daria!  I really liked the guy!"  She may have realized 
how that sounded.  "But he wouldn't talk to me.  Wouldn't come anywhere 
*near* me.  So I decided it was probably for the best and gave it up."
	"And you're so scared now because..."
	"She smelled of gunpowder..." breathed a horrified A.P.
	"You don't think...Oh, what am I saying, of course you think 
-- I think the same thing."
	"So if he's some kind of crook..."
	"Or if he's connected to Jerome..."
	"But what if Jerome *is* a crook?" Jane wondered.
	"I have a really hard time believing that.  He was suspicious 
and secretive, but if he *is* a criminal, he's not the common-or-garden 
variety."
	"Mafia?"
	"It's a distinct possibility."  A sigh.  "But we shouldn't be 
jumping to conclusions.  For all I know, the guy could just work for 
MI6 or the SAS or something.  He had that kind of spy mentality."
	"But then why would Lynn be doing all this stuff?"
	"If I knew, would I be so worried?  Dammit, Jane, I'm afraid 
to even ask -- the man packs a gun!"
	Somber silence greeted that.
	A.P. broke it.  "This is stupid.  We know squat.  Why don't we 
just *ask?*"
	"Better question: why have we waited so long *to* ask?" Jane 
wondered.
	"Best answer: we didn't really want to know," Daria replied.  
She thought a moment.  ""Now I guess we have to."
	They fell utterly silent, staring at their pizza with worried, 
in-turned expressions.


ACT 3: ONE
Helen and Jake were sitting next to each other on the living room sofa 
-- not very far away from each other, but not really close, either.  
There was tension in the air, but not a deep tension.
	Jake broke the silence.  "So...what do we do now?  More couples 
therapy?"
	Helen greeted that notion with a derisive snort.  "It hasn't 
seemed to have done a lot of good up to now."
	"But...Helen...there was a whole lot of stuff I didn't know 
then."  He nerved himself to point out the next thing.  "And maybe you 
could...turn up in person for a few sessions."
	A moment of silence fell.  Helen had the good grace to look 
guilty, though perhaps more extremely so than was truly necessary.  
"Yes...I could do that."  More silence.  "And maybe we should talk to 
each other more.  About what's really bothering us, instead of just..."
	"Yeah.  And maybe even listen to each other instead of going, 
`Oh, that's nice, dear...'"
	Helen was really curious.  "Have I ever said that to you about 
*anything?*"
	Jake had to think a moment.  "Not really...but I was always sure 
that was what you *meant.*"
	A small smile.  "Oh, Jake..."  She leaned closer and put her 
head on his shoulder.
	He slipped an arm over her shoulders and gave her a little hug.  
"Helen...what are we going to do about Daria?"
	A sigh.  "Jake, she doesn't see you any differently than she 
did before she found out about this.  You raised her.  That's what counts 
with her."
	"But she's so close to that little fr..."  He thought some more.  
"Lynn, right?"
	"Well, that's different.  They're sisters.  And she and Quinn..."
	A frown.  "They get along, don't they?"
	Helen decided to be kind.  After all, Lord knew she and Rita 
had coped with each other about the same at that age.  "Yes and no.  
They're sisters and nothing's going to change that.  But like does call 
to like, Jake."  She took a moment to consider how that might sound, 
then tenderly added, "Just because she's discovering a new family doesn't 
mean she's forgotten this one.  She never can.  We're...well, we're a 
*family,* that's all."
	Jake thought about that, then smiled a little and rested his 
head on top of Helen's.

				      * * *

It was late afternoon turning to evening, and the first shadows were 
starting to fall, when the Merc pulled up outside Chez Cullen, next to 
Tom's rusted heap.  Tom stopped the car and bounded out, but before he 
could get to the passenger side, Lynn had opened the door herself and 
stepped out.  "Dammit, Cullen," he muttered.  "You're supposed to be 
acting `Lady of the Manor.'  You don't *do* that kind of thing."
	"Nobody here but us chickens, Rust," she replied.
	"I wouldn't bet on that."
	"Oh, you mean them."  She let him consider the casual way she'd 
said that.  "Don't worry.  I'll think of something."
	A sad sigh.  "What are you going to tell Jane?  I mean...it ended 
badly."
	"I kind of figured that."  She let him consider *that.*  "What 
do you *want* me to tell her?"
	"Well...I..."  Another sigh.  "I don't know."  Another pause.  
"It probably wouldn't have worked out anyway."
	"Sometimes things don't," she acknowledged, sounding slightly 
sad.  That led to another pause.  "Look, get out of here.  I've got to 
go in and do some damage control."
	Tom allowed himself a slight smirk.  "In more ways than one?"
	Lynn rolled her eyes.  "I really regret mentioning that to you 
now."
	Tom headed to his car.  Lynn watched from the doorway of the 
house.
	Before he opened the car door, he turned back.  "So...what did 
you think of them, anyway?"
	Lynn paused a moment for thought.  "Not so bad," she eventually 
allowed as.  "I guess.  For who they are."
	"Shouldn't you have--"
	"No," came the immediate, adamant reply.  "I shouldn't have.  
They are staying as far out of this as I can make them."
	"It might not be so easy," he gently cautioned her.  "From what 
you've told me, they all care about you.  Her especially."  He weighed 
his next comment a moment.  "And she *is* family."
	"Not that way," Lynn replied, visibly struggling for control.  
"I don't want her involved that way.  You *know* that.  And you know 
*why.*  So don't push this."
	A lengthy silence.
	"Do you think you can protect them this way?"
	"I can try."  She let that hang between them.  "I will see you 
tomorrow, Rust."
	Tom tipped an imaginary hat.  "Cullen."  Then he got into his 
car and drove away.
	Lynn looked apprehensively at the house, then opened the door 
and stepped into the front hall, dropping her purse on the floor and 
slamming the door behind her.  She just stood in the hall for a moment, 
looking straight ahead.  Then, in fairly loud tones, she informed her 
lurkers, "If you've been in my room, it will go hard with you."  That 
said, she stepped through the doorway to her right, into the living room, 
where Daria, Jane and A.P. were sitting on the sofa, looking stern and 
worried in equal measure.
	"Daria wouldn't let us," Jane replied.
	"It would have been an abuse of trust," Daria sheepishly
explained.
	Lynn spocked an eyebrow at her sister.  "And using an emergency 
door key to let yourself in for no apparent reason isn't?"
	"Well, it seems like an emergency to me."  She let that speak 
for itself.  "I want some answers."
	A.P. became even more unable to contain himself than usual.  
"Who the *hell* is he?  And what are you doing letting him drive the 
Merc?  And where have you *been,* anyway? You've been gone for *hours!*"
	"What business is it of yours?" Lynn snapped.  "This is none 
of your affair, and believe me, you don't want it to be!"
	"We're your *friends,* Lynn!  I want to know what's going on!  
This is doing *really* weird things to you!  Are you in love with him?"
	"I think I'd like an answer to that one too," Jane piped up.
	Lynn's eyes went wide.  "*What?*  No, I'm not in love with him!  
I barely *like* him.  I sure as *hell* don't *trust* him.  And anyway, 
what do you care?"
	"He's my ex-*boyfriend,* Lynn!"
	"Sorry, was that last comment addressed to you?"
	"Uh..." A.P. intelligently replied.
	"He carries a *gun!*  He wears *Kevlar,* Lynn!  And you...he...
*gah!*"  In a fit of McIntyrian inarticulacy, Jane pounded an innocent 
sofa cushion.
	Daria was now the only calm one of the lot.  "When did you meet 
him?  That night I waited for you outside here?"
	"If you must know," Lynn grated, "yes."
	"Then part of the way you've been acting lately might be down 
to him."  She needed a moment to realize how that had come out, then 
continued, more calmly.  "Lynn, we're worried.  I know you haven't been 
sleeping well -- and that you've been having nightmares..."
	"Daria, as much as I care about you, I don't appreciate you 
telling other people that sort of thing.  It's my business how I'm 
sleeping at night."
	Daria wasn't deterred.  "We're not going to stop worrying just 
because you say it's none of our business, Lynn.  We're not going to 
stop trying to figure out why you're acting this way.  It would be easier 
on all of us if you just told us what was going on."
	A deep silence fell over the room.  Daria, Jane and A.P. looked 
expectantly at Lynn.
	She looked back at them, then sighed loud and long.  "I'll tell 
you as much as I can.  But I warn you, that's not much."
	Daria settled back on the sofa.  "We're listening."
	"Ms. Li's attack wasn't directed at us.  It was directed at me."
	"We figured that.  Ms. Li went nuts and saw you as the primary 
menace to her school..."
	"Yes and no.  That was why she *agreed* to it."  After taking 
a moment to nerve herself, she went on, very quietly.  "Someone let her 
out so that she could come after me and kill me."
	Jane was utterly stunned.  "*What?*"
	A.P., on the other hand, was worried as hell.  "Someone wanted 
you *dead?  Who?  Why?*  And how do I get my hands on the little--"
	Daria interjected, as something clicked in her head, "What did 
he *do?*"
	"*What?*" Jane & A.P. boggled as one.
	"Jerome looked pretty guilty about the attack, but he wouldn't 
tell me anything."
	"And when it comes to that," Lynn replied, "*I'm* not telling 
you anything about it either.  Suffice it to say that Dad has...
connections..."
	"He's mentioned that, yes."
	"...and he hired Tom as a sort of a bodyguard-cum-personal 
trainer for me.  That's where I've been after school; training.  Dad 
figured that it'd be safer if I knew how to protect myself in case 
something like this ever happens again."  After yet another pause, she 
added, "Not that it's likely."
	"What *is* he, Lynn?  And why do I get the feeling you're not 
telling us all of it?"
	"No.  I've said enough.  I've explained the weapons and the 
sleepless nights and the rest of it."
	"No you didn't!" A.P. blurted.  "There's gotta be a reason that 
your dad packs a gun!"
	"And why Tom carries one," Jane chimed in.  "*And* wears Kevlar!"
	"Cop or crook, Purple Peril; which is he?"
	Daria sensed this could get ugly, assuming it hadn't already 
done so.  "Guys..."
	"I can't say," Lynn replied.
	Jane was decidedly not satisfied with that.  "Can't because you 
don't know, or..."
	"Jane..." Daria started to warn.
	"Can't because I can't.  That's all."
	Silence.  Stalemate.  Lynn looked at Daria, Jane and A.P. with 
an expression that clearly indicates that, if she felt she had to, she 
would shut them all out of her life permanently -- not cheerfully, or 
without regret, but without particularly looking back.  They all looked 
decidedly undecided, as if trying to decide if they should risk it.
	Finally, Daria gave a small, nearly inaudible sigh of resignation 
-- you'd have had to know her to notice it.  _We've got all we can out 
of her.  For now._  "Okay."  She started to issue a blanket apology, 
then realized she couldn't.  "I can't speak for them, but I'm sorry for 
having barged into your house."  Jane and A.P. looked at her.
	Lynn gave a small, relieved sigh and treated them to a small, 
rueful smile.  "It's okay.  I think I kind of asked for it."
	"Is there...someplace you have to be tonight?"
	"I brought the X-Files tapes!" A.P. cut in, following Erudite 
Emerald's lead.  "And we were gonna order in a few pizzas and hit the 
drinks stash!"  He looked into the still-wrecked hall.  "If you didn't..."
	Lynn smiled again.  "Lorna has a saying: no matter how mad you 
are, never waste a good drink by spilling it over a bitch's head."  This 
met with general smirks.  "Who's calling the order in?"
	"Well, you're Lady of the Manor; guess it's your job!  I'm having 
the usual!"  He didn't even notice the grimaces at his "usual," which 
is topped (in case you were lucky enough to have forgotten) with tuna, 
onions, capers, artichoke hearts, cayenne peppers and shrimp.  After 
a moment, he added, "And I think I'll have two -- I skipped lunch."
	"Urgh," Jane groaned; "how *can* you?"
	A grin.  "It's a gift."
	Lynn shook her head at them and headed for the phone, unaware 
of their watchful eyes as they assessed her for a moment...then shrugged 
inwardly and decided to let it go.  For now.

ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	The three different escape routes are the obligatory reference 
to _The Daria Database_.
	Obligatory legal blap: Daria Morgendorffer was created (as were 
the rest of the Lawndale characters) by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis 
Lynn, and she and her neighbors are copyright 1993, 1997, 2000 MTV 
Networks, a Viacom company.  (As Michelle Klein-Haess has pointed out, 
work-for-hire sucks the yolks from ostrich eggs.)  Monty Python quotes 
and characters are copright 1970, 2000 Python (Monty) Pictures Ltd.  
They are here used, without the permission of their creators or owners, 
in the not-for-profit context of fan-fiction.  The characters of Lynn 
Cullen and A.P. McIntyre are copyright 1999, 2000 Janet "Canadibrit" 
Neilson, 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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