PREVIOUSLY, ON THE LOOK-ALIKE SERIES:
	"You know that scapegrace brother of yours?  Well, I have a job 
for his son..."
	"This is none of your affair, and believe me, you don't want 
it to be!"
	"You maybe get the feeling Lynn's in trouble? -- Wouldn't it 
be nice to have that gun you saw in his glove compartment between her 
and that trouble?"
	"He's a crime baron, Daria.  A Don.  A Godfather."
	"Good morning, campers."
	"God has nothing to do with this."
	"It was a labor of love."
	"Through the gut or through the head -- your choice."
	"We wasted years."

_The Look-Alike Series_
Daria fan fiction by Canadibrit with Ben Yee
Season 4, episode 1: "Lost and Found"
prose adaptation by Austin Loomis

Cast: Daria Morgendorffer, Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer, Jake 
Morgendorffer, Quinn Morgendorffer, A.P. McIntyre, Lynn Cullen, Jane 
Lane, Trent Lane, Warlock, Kestrel

ACT 1: FELL ON BLACK DAYS

"And I don't know what town I'm in
 Or what sky I am under
 And I wake up in the darkness and I
 Don't have the will anymore to wonder..." 
	- Ani DiFranco, "Dilate"

The door of the padded room opened a crack, and a bar of light shone 
into the darkness to illuminate Daria, still in her clothes from the 
trip, still fast asleep.  Helen and Jake peered through the doorway, 
looking extremely worried.  Jake moved to open the door wider, but his 
wife stopped him and shut the door.
	"But Helen, the look on her face..."
	"Jake, *you* know Daria. We'll *never* get anything out of her 
until she's ready to talk about it. -- And anyway, she could use the 
rest. I heard her typing until *very* late last night."
	"But *Helen*..."
	"Jake, I *know.*  But we'd have better luck with Quinn in any 
case.  You *know* she can't stand up to cross-examination."
	Jake allowed himself a small smile.  "You really are a lawyer, 
aren't you?"  Helen blushed.  "And I wouldn't have you any other way."  
She smiled shyly at him.  Anyone who knew about their recent marriage 
problems would have been able to guess that those problems had been,
for the most part at least, dealt with.

				      * * *

Jake was the more obviously flabbergasted of the two, but they were both 
stunned.  "What do you *mean,* `no'?"
	"I mean no as in `No, I can't tell you,'" Quinn said as if to 
a small child.  "And even if I *could,* I wouldn't *want* to.  Now please 
go away -- I'm trying not to *think* about this."  To her parents' utmost 
shock, she forcibly herded them out of her room and slammed the door 
in their faces. Then she flopped down on her bed, hugged her smiley-face 
pillow, and sighed.  Then she remembered what Daria had said one time 
about that pillow -- _Smile plastered on its face.  Full of fluff.  
Resemble anyone?_ -- and she chucked the pillow across the room and just 
buried her head in the normal pillows.
	You know how it is.  You think you know somebody -- you think 
you know yourself -- and then one day, you discover there's a whole other 
side to you that you never even dreamed was there, a side that just needs 
the right situation to bring her out -- a side that scares the cotton 
candy out of you.
	When you find out something like that about somebody else, you 
can just not go anywhere near them or speak to them ever again.  But 
when the someone is yourself, all you can do is stay out of the kind 
of situations that might bring out that other you again -- and try to 
forget the situations that brought her out in the first place.
	What really scared Quinn was that she was thinking about this 
whole thing hard enough to put it in words.  That Jane girl had told 
Quinn, on the long drive, what she'd said to Daria about the Tommy 
Sherman thing -- how what scared everyone at Lawndale High was not just 
having to conjugate their own mortality or whatever, but having to think 
at all.  Quinn had to admit, thinking wasn't something that came 
naturally to her.  Then again, she never would have guessed that kicking 
somebody's butt up around his ears would come naturally to her either.

				      * * *

Helen and Jake stood in front of Quinn's door, staring at each other.  
Helen was the first to speak.  "She..."
	"That..."
	"GAH!" they solemnly agreed.
	"That's *it!*" Jake announced.  "I am *not* going to lose touch 
with my kids this way!  This ... this ... what's that word Quinn uses?"
	"Sucks, Jake," Helen muttered. "This *sucks.*"
	He shuddered.  "Ewww...the things kids say these days..."  He 
blinked.  "Anyway, to hell with this!"  He began to hammer on the door.  
"QUI-INN!"
	"WHAT?" she called out from behind the door.
	"Pack your things! We're going away for a few days!"
	Quinn flung the door open and stared at him.  "But da-*ad,* we 
just got--"
	Helen cut her off short.  "We don't *care,* Quinn.  We would 
like to spend some time with you and Daria before you go back to school. 
-- I'm going to call Eric and get some time off. You, wake Daria and 
tell her to pack her bags."
	"Neither of us have had time to *un*pack yet..." Quinn grumbled.
	Helen just glared at her.  Quinn glared back -- the old Quinn 
Morgendorffer would have folded already, but the Quinn who'd driven the 
Merc through Pittsburgh and Amethyst through San Francisco, with her 
life on the line both times, wasn't about to be cowed by anyone, not 
even her own mother.
	Eventually, Helen just sighed.  "Do as we ask, Quinn."  She and 
Jake walked away, Jake shooting looks back at Quinn over his shoulder.
	Quinn stepped out of her room toward Daria's door, but stopped 
when that door opened and Daria poked her head out.  "Daria, they..."
	"I know. I heard most of it."
	"So what do we *do?*  I don't want to go away *again!*"
	"We grab our bags and meet downstairs in five.  We can't tell 
them our reasons for refusing. -- But we don't *have* to tell them 
anything."
	Quinn gave Daria a somber nod and headed back to her room.  Daria 
sighed, leaned her head on the door frame for a moment, then went back 
into her room.

				      * * *

In another darkened room, A.P. was sprawled out on a cot, fast asleep 
and snoring softly.  One arm was outstretched, lightly gripping Lynn's 
wrist.  Lynn was asleep and looked fairly peaceful.  She stirred slightly 
and raised her free arm to brush hair out of her eyes...then encountered 
bangs.
	She opened her eyes and was *really* confused for a moment.  
Then her eyes went wide as memory returned, and her freaked-out state 
became visible in them as recent events hit her like a freight train.  
She made a very soft whimpering noise and looked over to where A.P. was 
sleeping.  Her terrified expression transformed instantly to one of utter 
self-punishment.  _I got him shot.  Nothing like that will ever happen 
again.  Even if I have to make him hate me to keep him out of my life._  
She gently disengaged his hand from her wrist and got out of bed.  Her 
eyes scanned the room...then fell on an X-Acto knife in the litter of 
crafting tools on a table in the corner.  She stepped over to the table, 
picked up the knife, and looked at it for a moment.  Then she shrugged, 
stepped over to a wall, and raised the knife.

				      * * *

Outside, in an upstairs corridor of Casa Lane, Jane was just coming up 
the stairs with a tray, upon which rested a bowl of soup.  Trent was 
following along behind her.  "Janey..."
	"Last time she ate was two days ago. It's not healthy, we're 
supposed to be taking care of her, and so help me, she's going to eat 
something if I have to force every bite down her throat. Are you hearing 
me?"
	"Janey, would you calm down?"
	"*Trent,* I..."  She realized how snappish she was and sighed.  
"It's been a hard few days."
	"Was that an apology?"
	"As close to one as I'm going to get today, Trent."
	"I don't think you can force her to do anything anyway.  Not 
after what...Y'know."
	"You make a point. -- But we could try to tempt her..."
	Trent just shrugged and opened the door.
	Time seemed to stand still as they felt pure horror sinking into 
their pores at what they saw.  Jane only realized she'd dropped the tray 
when she heard the bowl smash, spilling soup everywhere.  "Oh *shit,*" 
she heard herself saying.
	A.P. was still asleep, oblivious, on the cot by the bed formerly 
occupied by Lynn.  The X-Acto knife lay on the bed itself.  And carved 
into the wall near the bed were four little words: CONSIDERING OPTIONS 
-- YOU'LL HEAR.
	"*Now* what?" Trent wondered.
	"We make phone calls. -- Oh, dammit, *wake up, A.P.!*"

				      * * *

Helen's SUV pulled out of the Morgendorffer driveway and away down the 
road.  Inside the empty house, the phone began to ring.

				      * * *

Jane was sitting in an armchair, staring at the phone as if it had 
personally insulted her.  A.P. was pacing around the Lanes' living room, 
tipped into full speed-rant mode.  "IshouldhavewokenUP!  Imean shewas
carvingstuffintotheWALLSandIdidn'tevenMOVE!  Imean whatthehellkindof
IDIOT--"
	"A.P., *shut up!*  This is *not* helping!"
	The interruption brought the Maverick down from 78 RPM to 45.  
"*You* can talk!  Dammit, `Considering options'...what the *hell* is 
*that* supposed to mean?"
	"Y'know, A.P., that's the *last* thing I want to contemplate 
right now. -- And where the hell is Daria? -- Who now?"
	Trent entered with the coffee.  "That Rust guy?"
	Jane and A.P. turned on him like rabid dogs.  "NOT A CHANCE IN 
HELL!"
	"Well, who else is there?"
	Jane stared at the phone for a moment...before it was grabbed 
out of her hands by A.P., who began dialing as the youngest Lane siblings 
stared at him.
	"Who're you gonna call?" Jane wondered, trying to be flippant.
	A.P. wasn't really in a joking mood, but he played along.  
"Merritt-busters."
	She grabbed the phone off him.  "We're *not* involving them!"
	He grabbed it right back.  "YES WE ARE!  They might be able to 
find Daria and get Lynn before she considers the wrong damn option!"
	They looked at each other for a moment...then Jane nodded.  She 
didn't like it, but dammit all anyway, he was right.

				      * * *

In the Inner Sanctum above San Francisco's own Blue Motorcycle, the cots 
were still set up around the room, and one was occupied by a blanket-
shrouded figure.  Warlock was at his workstation -- he'd moved the 
keyboard to the top of his computer screen and was at work cleaning a 
sniper rifle -- a Para-Ordinance P-16; lovely little beast.  He looked 
very tired.  The phone rang; the blanket lump stirred, and Warlock made 
for the phone quickly.  "This had better be good," he told it.  He 
listened to it, then went absolutely livid.  "WHAT?"
	At his yell, the blanket lump unraveled as its occupant rolled 
out of bed and hit the floor hard.  "Hrmph?" Kes blinked blearily.
	Warlock flapped a hand at her to shut up.  "No...no...no...no, 
Maverick, slow...Maverick, gi...MAVERICK!  Give.  Scarlet.  The phone."  
Pause while he presumably did so.  "Okay, now what the hell does he mean, 
`they're both gone'?"
	Kes bolted upright.  "WHAT?"
	Warlock put a hand over the mouthpiece.  "Shut up and get 
Pagebert."  She left to do so.  "Now. From the beginning."

				      * * *

A.P. had resumed pacing.  Trent, at a loose end, was standing in the 
doorway, nervously chewing a knuckle.  Jane was still on the phone, 
nodding slightly.  "Yeah. -- Yeah, and we'll do the same.  Thanks for 
this. -- Yeah, bye."  She hung up the phone.
	A.P. nearly pounced on her.  "Well?"
	"Daria's okay.  Pagebert hacked the Vitale, Davis, Horowitz, 
Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter and Schrecter e-mail account and it turns 
out Helen asked for some time off.  It looks like they took some kind 
of vacation."
	"She couldn't have called to warn us?"
	"It was pretty short notice, Trent.  Knowing Helen, she probably 
bulldozed Daria into it really suddenly and she had no time.  Otherwise 
she would have, you know that."
	"And Purple Peril...?"
	"They don't know.  Yet.  They're working on it, A.P."
	Silence greeted this.
	A.P.'s tone was worrisomely close to conversational.  "I miss 
the guns.  I wanna blow holes in things. -- Dammit, I should've woken 
*up!*"
	All Jane and Trent could do was look sympathetically at him.


ACT 2: LET ME IN

"I'm not here.  This isn't happening."
	-- Radiohead, "How to Disappear Completely"

The SUV pulled up in the gravel driveway of a rustic, rundown cottage 
by a lake.  The Morgendorffer family unit clamered out in the same 
sullen, oppressive silence they'd been in for most of the drive.
	Jake slapped a grin on his face and tried to break the silence.  
"Well, girls?  Whaddya think?  The *perfect* place to get away from it 
all!"
	"This place looks familiar," Quinn whispered to Daria.  "Didn't 
we stay here when...?"
	"Probably but now is not the time."  She paused to redirect her 
thoughts, then turned to Helen.  "Mom, did you bring your cellular phone? 
I need to make a phone call."
	"Daria, do you *really* think I'd bring my phone when we're 
trying to get away from it all and bond without any distractions?"  Daria 
just raised an eyebrow at her mother, remembering the camping trip.  
Helen blushed.  "Well, I *did* bring it but I'm not turning it on unless 
there's another real emergency.  Whatever you have to call people about 
can't be so important that it can't wait a few days."
	Daria said nothing, just gave her mother such an angry glare 
that Helen unconsciously took a step back from her.
	Jake was oblivious as usual.  "Come on, Helen, Quinn, Daria!  
Let's unpack and plan some bonding *fun* for the next few days!"

				      * * *

Trent walked into the kitchen bearing pizza boxes, but only got three 
steps in before he saw the looks on Jane and A.P.'s faces and froze in 
his tracks.  "Oh God.  What happened?"
	Jane broke the news to him.  "Rat did some checking and found 
a purple Laverda 750 Strike parked in the lot of Fremont's Greyhound 
station."
	"Oh. -- He's so sure it's *Lynn's* bike?"
	"Trent, the Strike isn't available in purple -- just black, blue 
and orange.  Lynn had Amethyst custom-painted."
	"Now, the odds on two people in this state owning the same make 
pricey racing bike custom-painted in the *exact* same shade are...let's 
see, carry the eight..."
	"A.P., that's enough."
	"So do we know where she's headed?" Trent wondered.
	A sigh.  "No idea.  None of the ticket agents remember seeing 
her -- I guess short, bespectacled brunettes don't really stand out in 
a crowd."
	A.P. piped up.  "But Warlock said he had an idea where she'd 
be headed so--"
	"Where?" Trent demanded.
	"Wouldn't say in case he was wrong.  He gets like that.  But 
he said he'd know for sure in a few days."
	"Any word on Daria?"
	"Nope," replied Jane.  "We've tried Helen's cellular phone but 
it's turned off."
	Piku piku.  "Whoa."
	"Yeah, that's what I said," A.P. allowed as.
	"So what do we do now?"
	"Nothing else we *can* do," Jane informed him.  "Except wait."
	"Which *sucks,*" A.P. snarled.
	Trent decided to take the sledgehammer approach to changing the 
subject.  "Anyway, got the pizzas."  He set the boxes down on the table, 
then turned to A.P.  "How can you put all that weird crap on a pizza, 
man?"
	A.P. just shrugged, as did Jane -- obviously she'd just about 
gotten used to the thought, if not the taste, of his usual toppings.

				      * * *

Daria and Quinn lay on their cots in the darkened room.  Daria was on 
her back, taking advantage of a whole new ceiling for the staring; Quinn 
was huddled in a fetal position, staring blankly at the wall.
	Quinn broke the long silence.  "Daria...?"
	"Yeah?"
	"I...I've never *seen* you like that before.  Usually you're 
so...so..."
	Daria listlessly raised an eyebrow.  "Timid?"
	"Well, yeah," Quinn acknowledged the running gag, "but then you 
put that gun in people's faces and blew up that whole *house* and I...
I...I guess you needed to break something.  It was, like, embolic or 
something..."
	"That's *sym*bolic.  But yes."
	A pause.
	"You were really worried about her, weren't you?"
	"...still am."
	"...Were...were you so worried about me?"
	"Yes," Daria stated flatly.  "Less so when Lynn went after you, 
but yes."
	"Why less...?"
	"Because I knew..."  Her voice caught; she had to start again.  
"Because I knew she'd get you and A.P. out safe.  No matter what she 
had to do to make it happen."  A long period of dead silence.  "Quinn...?"
	"Yeah?"
	"When we went on that rescue mission...there was a strong 
possibility we wouldn't come out alive.  But you came anyway.  Why?"
	"Well, it was *kinda* because that Scar person pushed me into 
it...and then there's that that Lynn girl's been almost *nice* to me 
-- not when she came to rescue me because I *know* that was mostly 
because of that A.P. guy..."
	Daria raised an eyebrow.  "Not `that *thing*'?"
	"He took a bullet for the woman he *loves,* Daria!  No *thing* 
does *that!*"  From the dreamily romantic tone of her voice, if Quinn'd 
been an anime character, her eyeballs would have been replaced by bulging 
Valentine hearts, and her nose probably would have disappeared as well.  
Daria certainly felt like bigsweatdropping.  "Anyway, she helped when 
I needed money for that date outfit and she got us talking again even 
after I said something really *really* bad to her and..."  She trailed 
off, looked at Daria, and steeled herself.  "But mostly, it was 'cause 
I couldn't let you go against bad guys *alone*..."
	In the silence that followed that revelation, Daria stretched 
out a hand.  Quinn reached out and took it.
	"Thanks, Quinn."

				      * * *

A.P. poured himself a cup of coffee and moved towards the kitchen table, 
where a small envelope was sitting.  He set down the coffee, sat, and 
looked at the envelope with longing and pain.
	"Hey," came a familiar raspy voice; "shouldn't you be getting 
some sleep?"
	A.P. looked up as Sir Naps-a-Lot entered the kitchen and poured 
some coffee for himself.  "Could *you?*"
	Trent thought a moment, then confessed, "Gotcha."  He sat down 
at the table.  After a moment, he asked, "We got pictures back?"
	A nod.  "Got 'em processed in that little town off Los Alamos.  
Probably shouldn't have -- should've kept my head down like Warlock said 
but..."  The words ran out on him.
	Trent nodded back.  "Yeah. -- They come out okay?"
	"I d-don't wanna l-look."
	The guys sat in silence, each staring at his own coffee mug, 
each lost in his own thoughts.
	"Listen...I just wanted to say..." Trent sighed.  "Sorry for 
being such an ass to you when you first got here, man."
	A.P. shrugged.  "Yeah, same."
	More silence.
	"She's gonna be fine.  I know Lynn pretty well -- she'd never 
do something as stupid as kill herself."
	A.P. stared at him.  "You were doing *really* well until just 
then."  He got up and left, leaving Trent to stare after him with a 
_what'd I do?_ expression.

				      * * *

Out on the lake, Jake was cheerfully baiting a fish hook.  Daria just 
stared out at the water impassively.  Jake looked at her with concern 
evident in his face.  "Hey, k...Daria?"
	"Yeah, Dad?" she said rather distantly, not actually looking 
at him.
	Jake chose his words carefully.  "Now, I know I'm not...I didn't
...well, you know what I mean..."  He trailed off and tried again.  "But 
you know you can always talk to your ol'...Jake...if something's 
bothering you."
	Daria looked at him.  There was obviously something she needed 
to set him straight on *now,* before things went any further.  "Dad, 
you may not have sired me, but you're still my dad and I..."  She sighed.  
_And I can't believe I have to say this._  "...and I love you."  His 
beaming face was all the confirmation she needed.  "But I don't want 
to talk about it.  I'm nearly an adult so could you please respect my 
wishes -- and my privacy -- and drop the subject?"
	Jake looked at her in a kicked-puppy way...then decided he'd 
take what he could get.  "Hey, you want me to bait that hook for you?"
	She looked at him, eyebrow raised...then decided to humor him 
and handed over the pole.  He beamed again.

				      * * *

In the darkened upstairs room, Helen and Jake were in bed.  "Quinn 
*still* won't talk," Helen reported.  "I didn't think she had it in her."
	"Daria was really polite about it.  Asked me to respect her 
privacy. -- Dammit, what the hell happened to them out there?"
	A sigh.  "Jake...I'm beginning to think we'll *never* find out."  
She thought about it.  "But does it *really* matter?"
	"Helen, our girls--"
	"...Went out into the big bad world and found some trouble.  
And they didn't come out of it badly, from the looks of things.  So maybe 
we should count our blessings and leave the girls alone.  And who knows?  
Maybe one day they'll *want* to tell us."
	A silence.
	"Helen...maybe we should go home. This isn't helping anything 
and I think it's bothering Daria -- don't know *why,* but it *is*..."
	Another sigh.  "Maybe you're right. -- It was worth a try, wasn't 
it?"
	Jake just hugged her for a moment.  Then he put on his seductive 
tones.  "Heeeeeey...this isn't a *total* loss.  The girls are in that 
room downstairs...far enough away not to be listening..."
	A throaty laugh.  "Oh, *Jakey*..."

				      * * *

Some time later, Daria and Quinn had their pillows over their heads to 
block out all the boinka from upstairs.  "I guess they patched up the 
marriage," Daria observed, less than necessarily.
	"Ewwww..."


ACT 3: SALVATION

"So you're left standing in the corner
 You keep your face turned to the wall
 A fading dream, a faded memory
 A shooting star that had to fall"
	-- A Flock of Seagulls, "Nightmares"

Lynn approached the ruins of the Merritt compound tentatively, complete 
confusion in her eyes.  She'd probably never looked this lost in her 
life.  She stood on the sidewalk in front of the wreckage, staring 
blankly at it.  "There was a building here..." she muttered.
	"Yeah. There was."
	She wheeled, hands raised to defend herself.  Warlock, who'd 
been standing behind her and was now in front of her, held his hands 
up, palms out in the universal I'm-not-going-to-hurt-you gesture.  Lynn 
relaxed -- slightly -- then turned back and resumed staring at the 
rubble.  "We've been here before."
	"Last time you thought he was dead.  But he's alive.  And he 
loves you."
	"And I love him.  But with me in his life, he's gonna end up 
dead.  It's in his best interests if I--"
	"Without you in his life, he's going to wish he was dead."  Lynn 
almost visibly winced at this, so Warlock gave her a moment to recover.  
"I know what you're thinking.  But you're not thinking about what it'll 
do to him.  Carpe the diem and grab what happiness you can."
	"I don't deserve to be happy."
	"Does he? You know he can't be happy without you."  Stubborn 
silence from Lynn.  "And what about your sister?  The sister who needs 
a sister who understands her, instead of just Narcissa?"
	"A sister who could have got her killed how many times now?  
Three?  More?"
	"Could have, could have.  It didn't happen.  And I doubt the 
Falcon is going to let that happen twice. -- Still don't know why he 
let it happen *once,*" he muttered.
	"Because frankly, dear Warlock, he didn't give a damn.  So why 
should I?"
	"Because the rest of us do."  He thought about what she'd just 
said and allowed himself a wry half-smile.  "And, since *you're* getting 
quotehappy, tomorrow is another day, Per...Lynn."
	There was a long silence.  Lynn didn't look at him; she just 
stood, looking at the rubble.  Eventually, she turned to face him.  "Is 
it over?"
	"You don't need to worry about that."
	"Like hell I don't. It'll come home to me if it's not."
	"Lawndale is about as safe as it gets."
	"Tell that to A.P.  And while you're at it, get him to show you 
the scar on his arm from the bullet graze."
	"They were lucky that time. They had something to work with."
	Lynn sighed.  "Seems there's *always* something.  But right now, 
I'm going to take some good advice and think about that tomorrow. -- 
God, I need some sleep."
	Warlock nodded toward the bigwhitevan.  "Come on."
	Lynn looked at him, uncertain.  Then she shrugged and stepped 
toward the BWV.  Warlock made as if to take her arm, but she flinched 
back.  Warlock raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing -- just let 
her make her own way to the passenger side of the van.

				      * * *

Jane was sprawled out asleep on her bed.  A.P. was pacing the room.  
The phone rang, and he quite literally leaped at it, knocking over a 
chair and waking Jane.  "Mwha..." she observed.
	"Yeah?"  Pause for reply, then a sigh.  "Daria, where *are* you?"
	"Somewhere in Arkansas," Daria told the payphone.  "Mom and Dad 
went ballistic and did the bonding thing. What's going on? You sound--"  
Bleep.
	"Scarlet, y'got call waiting?"
	"*Had* to after the last family reverse exodus," Jane mumbled.  
"Penny and her damn trade wars."
	A.P. hit a button.  "Yeah? -- *Kes!*  You found her?"
	"Warlock did," Kes reported from the small, overlit kitchen of 
the Sanctum.  "Archer, ballistics expert and amateur psychologist over 
there brought her in safe.  She's a little ... hmm, let's say mentally 
off-colour ... but it's likely we can send her home by plane without 
worrying about her playing with the emergency exit doors."
	"WHAT?"
	"Never mind - poor attempt at humour."
	"So funny I could *puke.*  Now when's she coming home?"
	"She needs some rest right now - I don't think she's had a wink 
of sleep or a bite of decent food since she left Lawndale.  We're sending 
her back tomorrow.  And not on the wino-haven-on-wheels she used to GET 
here.  Get your rear-ends to Carter County International tomorrow 
afternoon at 3:30 to pick her up.  And you will CHAIN youself to her 
if you have to - she does not leave town again, are you hearing me?"
	"Yeah...and thanks...I..."
	"One or the other of us will be in touch as regularly as we can 
be.  Keep safe."  She hung up.  A.P. looked at the phone.
	"Daria's on the other end of it..." Jane pointed out expectantly.
	He blinked.  "Ohyeah."  Bleep.  
	She sounded annoyed.  "A.P.?" she shouted in a way that implied 
she'd been doing that for a while.  "A.P.!  A.P., pick up the damn--"
	"Hey ho, Erudite Emerald!"
	She blinked.  "You're back *and* you're cheerful.  A.P., what 
is going on?"
	"How long you got?"
	"*A.P.*..."
	When he'd told her what'd happened, she hung up.  Then she stood 
there and stared at the phone for awhile.  Then, since Lynn wasn't there, 
she kicked the base of the phone.

				      * * *

The next afternoon at Carter County International Airport, right on time, 
Daria, Jane and A.P. were standing in a neat row, waiting.  Former 
airline passengers came out the arrivals gate; the trio scanned them 
with growing worry.  Finally, the crowd started to thin out, and they 
spotted Lynn way toward the back, ensuring that she'd be the last to 
leave.  Eventually, she was standing in front of them at a distance of 
about six feet.  They looked at each other.
	"Uh...is this the bit where you call me seven different varieties 
of cast-iron bitch?"
	Group nod.  Then they stepped forward.  Lynn flinched back a 
little, but forced herself to stand still for the group hug.  After a 
moment, she was hugging them back.

				      * * *

Lynn and A.P. were sitting side by side in the back of the Plymouth, 
a bit stiffly.  Their hands -- his right, her left, same as in the Doom 
Buggy -- were resting bare inches apart on the seat between them.  Lynn 
looked at their hands so near to each other, bit her lip and looked out 
the window.  As she turned away, A.P. looked at their hands in turn.  
He opened his mouth, considered hard enough for it to show on his face, 
then shut his mouth firmly and just put his hand over Lynn's.  She looked 
at him, stunned, and they locked eyes.  After 11 years of friendship, 
just one look was, as the song says, all it took.  Lynn shyly slid closer 
to A.P., who put an arm around her shoulder as she rested her head on 
his shoulder and shut her eyes.
	Up front, Daria and Jane exchanged looks.  "Is *that* what it 
takes to get those two together?" Jane asked softly, so as not to disturb 
the moment.
	Daria shrugged.  "Guess so."
	"Jeez...what is it gonna take to get you and Trent together?"
	A Mona Lisa smirk.  "Armageddon?"
	Jane just sighed.

				      * * *

They'd gathered in Jane's room.  Daria was reading _Meals with the Mob: 
the Cosa Nostra Etiquette Manual_.  Lynn was curled up at the foot of 
Jane's bed, fast asleep; A.P. was sitting nearby, sharing his attention 
between her and a copy of _The Essential Hacker_.  Jane was just putting 
the finishing touches on a painting of Lynn and A.P. as Sleeping Beauty 
and Prince Charming.
	A.P. glanced up at it and managed to glare and blush at the same 
time.  "Better not let *her* see that.  She hasn't got much sense of 
humor when it comes to that kind of thing."
	Jane shrugged.  "Maybe I just got too big a taste for living 
dangerously, but I don't really care."  She thought about that, then 
gave a smug smirk.  "Anyway, I don't *really* think she'll mind."
	A raised eyebrow.  "Shows what *you* know. -- Anyway...I'd be 
jinxing it *big* time if I said something like `Guess this worked out 
kinda okay after all'?"
	Daria looked up.  "Probably...but say it anyway.  After all, 
this could have come out a *lot* worse."  Jane raised an eyebrow.  "Well, 
Lynn's back, thankfully minus added ventilation courtesy of a sniper 
rifle, and she seems...well, if not back to normal, then at least a lot 
better than she was when we left San Francisco."
	"Whoawhoawhoa.  Why would she--?"
	"There are a lot of unhappy people in San Francisco, A.P., 
remember?"
	"Yeah," Jane chimed in, "people who wouldn't mind letting 
daylight through all four of us."
	A.P. sighed.  "I was kinda trying to forget that."
	Daria decided they were getting off the point.  "Anyway...she's 
made this return and recovery just in time to start school without 
leaving us with awkward questions to answer."
	Jane blinked.  "Y'know, I'd nearly forgotten about school."
	"Defense mechanism."
	"I'm kinda looking forward to it."  A.P. noticed the looks that 
got him from the other two.  "It's...y'know...normal.  We can be kids 
again. -- Is this what Purple Peril feels like *all the time?*"
	A thoughtful silence.
	Jane seemed genuinely curious.  "You think school's going to 
hold any challenge for us anymore?  After what we've done?"
	Daria shrugged.  "The universe will surprise us."  With that 
dismissive comment, they went back to what they'd been doing.

ADAPTOR'S NOTES
	Ooh, vocabulary word.  "Boinka (n): The noise through the wall 
that tells you that the people next door enjoy a better sex life than 
you do."
	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.  This storyline is copyright 2000 Canadibrit and Ben Yee and 
was adapted by Austin Loomis (to whom the prose format version is also 
copyright 2000) with the specific permission of the former and the tacit 
permission of the latter.
	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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