QED

By Marcello

Author’s Notes: My first fanfic. Please be gentle. The characters have already hijacked the plotline. For lack of more finesse at this point, a bit of exposition — we’re at the end of the senior year. Jane and Tom are still together and going strong. The Shakespearean quote is from Macbeth, Act 3, Scene 4. The poetry is mine.

Acknowledgements: Thanks to Deref for his help on this. I owe the genesis and something of the tone of the story to VoiceOfMy’s “Anaphrodariac”.

Synopsis: It’s really only a matter of logic.

Rating: PG-13/R. Language.

“The freak-show finally over – and our sanity still intact,” Jane quipped as she and Daria stepped through the doors of Lawndale High into the bright summer afternoon.

“Speak for yourself,” Daria replied. Images of last night’s post-graduation dinner swam vividly in her mind: Helen’s incessant gloating over Rita in absentia, Jake’s repeated ravings of childhood slights and Quinn’s perpetual flirting with the wait-staff. “I’m going to be forwarding you my therapist’s bills.”

Jane flashed a brilliant smile. “Just think, Daria, after this summer you can say farewell to this blight of human intellect for good.”

“Or until Christmas holidays.”

“True.”

“What is with you, Jane? You’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat.” Daria stopped, fixing an intense gaze on her friend. “Does this have anything to do with the little plans you and Tom have for next weekend?”

“You mean Operation Cherry Pop?” Jane’s smiled widened. “Oh yeah. I’m so gonna rock his world.”

Daria shook her head. “You’re losing it, Lane. You know that?”

“That is the plan.”

As the pair reached Daria’s street, they heard a familiar honking behind them. Tom’s latest sad excuse for transportation rolled up next to the curb. “Hi, Jane! Hi, Daria.”

“Tom!” Jane’s eyes lit up. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d already left for the Cove.”

“We’re heading out a little later than we’d planned. I’ve got about a half-hour until I need to get back to the house. Want to spend it with me?” Wink.

“Sure!” Her eyes narrowed, but the smirk was still evident. “But no fancy stuff, Rich Boy. That’s for next weekend.”

Tom raised his hands in faux alarm. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jane turned to her friend. “I’ve got to pick up a few things anyway before our bad movie night. Rendezvous at my place in an hour?”

“No problem, Jane. Go have fun. I’ll see you in a bit.” Daria started down the sidewalk, but stopped to glance back. Jane was already in Tom’s car. With a small wave to Daria, she and Tom pulled into the street. Daria’s eyes followed them until the car disappeared around the corner. She walked the rest of the way to her house in silence.

The Morgendorffer household was eerily quiet as Daria entered the kitchen. A note on the table confirmed what she had already suspected – Helen and Jake had left early for their weekend marriage retreat. Quinn, Daria knew, would be sequestered with the Fashion Club for their annual summer fashion trend assessment, as Quinn had been informing all who would listen, willingly or not, for the past week.

“Thank the gods Jane and I have our bad movie marathon,” Daria muttered as she thudded up the stairs to her padded cell. Depositing her backpack on her desk, she flopped bodily onto her bed. She lay on her stomach, just breathing, for several minutes. By now, Jane would be saying her “good-byes” to Tom. With a deep sigh, she rolled onto her back to lose herself in the constellations of ceiling cracks.

Tom.

When he had first come into the picture, a little over a year ago, her initial reaction had been one of unbridled hostility — perceiving him, as she had, as a threat to her friendship with Jane. Over this past year, though, she had mellowed considerably, realizing that her feelings were shifting along a continuum from resentment to begrudging tolerance to subtle affection.

“Not that I’ve ever let him know that.” Daria had outwardly kept Tom at arm’s length. Their relationship had all the camaraderie of a cease-fire, with Daria lobbing warning shots over his head every now and then, just to keep him on his toes.

On the other hand, she had admitted to herself some time ago that Tom was quite an attractive guy. Those eyes. The same piercingly blue shade as Jane’s. And, her outward behavior aside, his witty, if slightly sardonic, attitude made his company somewhat enjoyable.

Tom’s presence, however, stood Janus-like in their midst. One face, Jane’s happiness. The other, Daria’s distress. His sudden appearance had been a catalyst, triggering an emotional reaction in Daria for which she had been totally unprepared. Her schoolgirl crush on Trent had been completely overwhelmed, submerged in powerful currents of raw emotional, psychological and, surprisingly enough, physical desire. Rather than materializing in a single massive wave, they had had crept up on her stealthily, like a slow, but steadily rising tide, until she awoke to find her emotional shoreline irrevocably altered.

Cobalt currents,

the ocean of your eyes,

drown me in the chaos of my love.

The lines of verse floated in her awareness. The eyes, Daria thought languidly. It had all begun with those eyes. She had composed the poem a few weeks ago and inscribed it in her journal, alongside her many months of reflection – page upon page of silent, solitary analysis without resolution.

And now Jane and Tom were going to have sex. Consummate their love. Do the deed.

Fuck.

This was bad.

She needed to talk to someone. Today. But she couldn’t talk to Jane, not about this. Aunt Amy would normally be her backup, but Amy was on a project in Greece and couldn’t be reached. Her parents were absolutely out of the question under any circumstances. There was really only one person she could possibly turn to. She just hoped that she could catch him between naps.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Morgendorffer.”

Swiftly assembling an overnight bag, Daria hurried from the house. She wanted to get to the Lane’s before her newfound resolve evaporated.

***

“So … anything gnawing at your soul lately?” Jane queried from behind her latest work-in-progress.

Daria glanced up from her notepad. “Your fundamental premise being that the soul exists?”

“Take the question as a hypothetical.”

A momentary, but noticeable, pause. Daria attempted to affect a casual nonchalance. “Oh, nothing but the usual.”

Before Jane could respond, Trent’s disheveled head poked around the door.

“Hey, Janie . . . hey, Daria. Just wanted to let you know I’m back from rehearsal. I’ll be in the basement working on lyrics . . . or sleeping … or whatever. In case you need me.”

“We’ll let you know if hell freezes over.” Jane’s sarcasm was palpable.

“Uh, . . . okay.” With a slight smile and almost imperceptible wink to Daria, Trent’s head disappeared back into the hallway.

Jane’s eyes slid over to Daria. “What was that?”

Not quite imperceptible enough, thought Daria. “What was what?” She felt her nonchalance becoming less convincing by the second.

“Don’t play stupid with me. That,” Jane waved her hands at the airspace previously occupied by Trent’s head, “that was a wink. And I want to know what it means. So spill it, Morgendorffer.”

Damn you, Trent, Daria swore inwardly.

Jane drove on, relentless. “Does it have anything to do with what you’ve been writing for the past hour? Something to do with Trent, perhaps?” Jane waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Daria mumbled something under her breath.

“I know – that’s a list of Trent’s admirable qualities.” Jane squinted, then frowned. “Nah. It’s too long for that.”

“Cut it out, Jane.”

“Ooh … aren’t we defensive? Must be hitting too near the mark for comfort.”

“That’s it. I hereby invoke my fifth amendment rights against self-incrimination.”

“How about a list of reasons for telling Trent how you really feel.”

Daria flinched. Jane had struck closer to the truth than she realized. “How about a list of means of disposing of your body after I’ve killed you for making stupid comments.”

“That sounded awfully self-incriminating to me. What happened to your right to remain silent? “

“It was superseded by my natural instinct for self-preservation.”

“Come on. What gives, amiga?” Jane’s eyes. Questioning. Pleading.

Damn. Double damn.

Cornered. Deflecting Jane’s increasingly intense yenta efforts over the past year had become more and more difficult to do as her remarks had become more and more direct. Like tonight.

Daria sighed. Perhaps she would have to thank Trent for bringing the issue to a head – after she killed him, of course. And Jane. Then herself.

“Okay. It’s an argument. A proof, if you like …”

“You mean circles and triangles and things, like in geometry?”

“No, Jane. Now be serious, if you want to hear this. It’s a logical proof. You know – modus tollens, modus ponens . . .”

“Abracadabra. Hocus-pocus.”

“Jane …”

“Sorry.”

“Just remember – you asked for this.” Daria paused. “I’m trying to convince myself to … proceed with a certain course of action … with regards to this person …”

“It’s simple. You go downstairs. You look into his eyes and say, ‘I love you, Trent.’”

Daria frowned a warning. “If we’re going to continue this conversation, all persons shall remain unnamed. Got it?”

“Okay, okay!”

“So, there’s … this person … that I really didn’t understand how I felt about until roughly a year ago … that I’ve begun to … um …”

“Like, love, lust after?”

“All of the above? Look, Jane. I’m not used to expressing these emotions – to anybody. Hell, I’ve just begun to admit their existence to myself. And until a few years ago, I’d never had a best friend to talk like this with – so please, cut me some slack.”

Jane looked a little worried now. “You can stop—”

“No.” Daria shook her head. Absurdly, Shakespeare flashed through her brain — Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o’er. “I want to do this. Now.”

Jane waited as Daria took a deep breath.

“Emotion is fundamentally quite logical. Really.” Daria emphasized with her hands as Jane shook her head. “Emotion is a logical extension and consequence of our values and core beliefs. Our axioms, so to speak.”

“Alright, Miss Rand. Go on.”

“Attraction – meaningful attraction – is derived from common values, not superficial similarities. So …”

“Daria, you’re losing me. Is this a confession or a philosophy lecture? Try translating everything you’ve just said into Standard American English … please.”

“Okay! This is difficult enough as it is.” Daria paused for a moment. “The long and short of it is that there’s someone that I’m deeply attracted to at every level of attraction that I can think of and have been for almost a year now and I haven’t said anything to anyone about it until today.” Jane’s eyes took on a mischievous look. “And before you say another word – it isn’t Trent.”

Jane’s mouth shut with an audible snap.

“Why can’t you just say it, then?”

Daria looked straight into those eyes. “I’m afraid of hurting of someone I care about.”

“What?!”

“QED,” Daria mumbled.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“QED. Quod erat demonstrandum. Latin. It means: ‘which was to be shown.’ It’s the formal ending for a proof.”

“Whatever.” Jane shook her head. “I’m just trying to get all this straight. You’re really attracted to this somebody, the somebody is not Trent and you’re afraid of hurting me.” Jane’s features suddenly clouded. “Are you in love with Tom?”

Daria’s eyes grew wide. “Jane …” Shit.

Jane cut her off, her sudden fury boiling over. “It’s Tom? You’ve been nursing a crush on my one steady boyfriend for over a year? What the hell are you thinking? That you can just walk up to him and say, ‘I love you, Tom’ without disrupting everything?”

“Jane, you don’t understand. I …”

Jane turned away. “No, I don’t understand, Daria. I don’t understand at all. How can you do this to me? To us? After all we’ve meant to each other. You …”

“Look at me!”

Exasperated, Daria spun Jane around, planting her lips firmly on her friend’s mouth. “I love you, Jane.” Then she was gone, down the hall and through the front door.

***

Daria was three steps from the Lane front porch when she stopped short. She had nowhere to run to tonight, with her parents gone and Quinn over at Sandi’s. She shook her head. Her masochistic subconscious was in rare form this evening. She had no choice but to deal with the consequences head-on. The nearest bridge was just too damn far away.

Sighing in the rapidly darkening dusk, Daria sat down on the first step of the Lane porch, hugging her knees. “Damn, Trent.” Daria cursed softly, her thoughts drifting back to their conversation earlier. She had gotten to the Lane house early, knowing that Jane would still be out. She had wanted to have some time to talk with Trent alone.

“Hey, Daria,” Trent had rasped as he opened the door. “Janie’s not back yet.”

“I know. Everyone’s left my place already, so I thought I’d go ahead and come over.”

“That’s cool. Come on in.” Trent stepped aside to make room. “Janie should be back in a half an hour … or was it an hour and a half? I can’t remember what she said exactly.”

“It’s okay, Trent. I don’t mind.” Daria put her small bag down by the door. A brief silence ensued.

“You want something to eat?” Trent asked finally.

“You actually have food in your kitchen today?”

“Uh, not really … but I figured it’d be rude not to ask.”

Daria had to smile at Trent’s logic. “I’m okay for now. Jane and I were planning on ordering pizza later.” Daria looked at her feet. “Trent, do you mind if we talk? I kind of need some advice … before Jane gets back.”

“Sure … no problem.” Trent paused. “This is going to be something deep, isn’t it?” His brow furrowed. “I’m gonna need my guitar. I think better when I’m holding my guitar.”

“That’s fine,” Daria said as Trent slipped downstairs. She went into the living room and sank into one corner of the couch. Trent reappeared a minute later, cradling his acoustic. Gently strumming the strings, he dropped onto the couch next to her.

Daria wouldn’t look at him directly. She felt him eyeing her with a mild curiosity as he waited for her to begin. With a deep breath, Daria took the plunge.

“There’s … um … someone that I feel very strongly about. And I recently realized that I’ve actually felt this way for some time, without being fully aware of it. But this person is already … well, involved.” Daria paused, turning to face him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in college and I want to let this person know how I feel before we possibly scatter to the four winds.”

Trent thought for a moment, lightly strumming a chord. “Yeah … I can see why you’d think that.”

“There’s more.”

“More to the problem?”

Daria looked out the front window. “It’s Jane.”

“Janie’s the problem?”

“No … I mean, yes, but no …”

“Huh?”

Just a whisper. “I’m in love with Jane.”

The chord vibrated into silence. Daria turned back to Trent, whose face wore a slightly less sleep-filled look as he processed this information. After several long moments, he nodded.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know, Trent. God knows I want to. Every day — every single day — I ache to tell her how I feel. But …” Daria’s voice trailed off. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of losing what I do have. She and Tom are getting serious.”

“You want my advice, right?”

Daria nodded.

“Follow your heart.”

“My heart? Trent, you know I’m a rational person. How can my heart be rational?”

“Knowing you, Daria, you’ll find a way.”

“That’s real helpful.”

“No problem.” Trent smiled as he stood. “I’ve got rehearsal now, but I’ll be around later. Janie should be getting back soon.” His smile grew thoughtful. “You know, Daria, I’ve always thought of you as someone special. You’re a good friend. I hope you can work this out.”

He paused again at the front door. “You need anything — anything at all — I’m there.”

Daria smiled back. “Thank you, Trent. I appreciate that.”

A metallic rasping snapped Daria’s attention back to the present. She stood, hugging herself, as she felt the front door open. Boot-clad footfalls descended the steps, then fell silent. Daria stared into the clear night sky, trying to fight down the tearing in her eyes.

Softly, so softly, behind her. “Amiga …”