Status Quo Ante

By Marcello

Acknowledgements: Thanks to Deref, Renfield and Roger E. Moore for their beta-reading and suggestions, and to Ladyrhetta for her unceasing vigilance and editing of my narrative voice. (Must maintain POV!) I’d also like to thank Roger for his kind permission to abscond with some wonderful lines from his fic, “The Other Story of D,” and contort them for my own use.

Synopsis: What will Jane do in the aftermath?

Rating: PG/PG-13. Language.

Jane blinked. Did that just happen? She blinked again. Her bedroom was still empty, the door to the hallway still yawned open. Daria? The sound of the front door slamming shut shook her from her reverie. Daria had kissed her. Daria had kissed her. Of all people, Daria was in love with her. Shit! This is all wrong! Jane’s brain began to recover. Daria had run outside. It was dark and she couldn’t go home. Alarm surged, submerging all other concerns. Get her back inside. Make sure she’s safe.

As she opened the front door, Jane saw Daria standing a few feet from the front porch. At least she didn’t go looking for a bridge. Carefully, Jane descended the steps, stopping just behind her friend. Daria didn’t move, her back to Jane, her face angled toward the sky.

“Amiga …”

Jane stopped, her voice swallowed by the stillness of the night air. Slowly, gently, she placed her hand on her friend’s arm. Sensing Daria tense beneath her touch, Jane pulled back. “Daria?” Please, please come back inside. “Are you okay?”

Wavering, “I’m sorry Jane. I …” Gaining strength, “I guess I’ve really messed things up this time.” Daria turned and Jane saw liquid eyes glisten. “I didn’t want you mad at me.” The eyes cast downward. “I guess that doesn’t matter much any more.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Jane placed both hands firmly on Daria’s shoulders. “Look at me.” The eyes met hers. “We’ll deal with this … situation … later.” After I’ve had time to think. “Just come back inside with me, okay?”

Daria said nothing for a moment. “Sure.” A small smile. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

When the pair entered the house, they found Trent in the living room. Jane noted her brother’s visibly relaxing stance. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a wordless message exchanged: All clear.

Trent turned his attention to Daria. “You okay?”

Daria nodded. She looked at Jane. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll just go to sleep, if that’s alright with you.” She paused. “Given all that’s happened, I’d … uh …feel sort of awkward sleeping in your room. Is there anywhere else I could crash?”

Before Jane could answer, Trent spoke up. “I’ll fix up the couch.” With that, he disappeared down the hallway, re-emerging with an armload of bedding a moment later. With an uncharacteristic focus, he set straight to his task, transforming the sofa into a modestly comfortable bed.

“I’m sorry, Jane.” Daria’s voice was low.

“Don’t worry, amiga. We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep.” Maybe one of us will.

Slipping her boots off, Daria climbed into the make-shift bed while Jane dimmed the living room lights. As she mounted the steps, Jane watched as Trent settled into an overstuffed armchair, his gaze never straying from the couch, and gently, ever so gently, began to play his guitar.

***

Now what? With the immediate crisis of Daria’s physical safety resolved, the immensity of the night’s events exploded in Jane’s psyche. How the hell am I going to handle this? A tiny voice echoed in the back of her mind: just a crush … not real … jealous of Tom. Jane scrambled to make sense of everything that had been said, that had happened. What did she want? She wanted Daria as her best friend. Not her lover. Not her mate. She wanted Tom as her boyfriend. Quite likely a lover. Possibly a mate.

She shook her head. This could screw everything royally. She and Daria were going to have to settle this once and for all in the morning. The path that she had glimpsed in the aftershock of Daria’s kiss was one that she was not even going to contemplate exploring. Sexuality aside, there was too much at stake. Nothing can turn a friendship, even one as deep as theirs, sour more quickly than an ill-advised attempt at romance. Not going there. In any case, months of foreplay with Tom had demonstrated to Jane that she was most definitely heterosexual.

“Janie? You okay?” Trent appeared in her doorway. After Jane nodded, he glanced back down the hall. “She’s asleep now.”

Jane looked hard at her brother. “So … you knew about this?”

“Only since this afternoon. She came over before you got back. Needed some advice.” He thought for a moment. “I guess it didn’t go well?”

“Aside from massive confusion ending in my accusing her of designs on Tom and her kissing me, I’d say it went splendidly.”

“Oh.” Trent paused. “What are you going to do?”

Jane frowned. “In the morning, we’re going to straighten this thing out. I’m dating Tom. Daria is my best friend. End of story.”

“Are you going to talk about …?”

No! “We’re not going to go there, Trent.” Jane warned.

Trent shook his head. “I don’t know, Janie. You can’t bottle these things …”

“There’s nothing to bottle!” Jane cut him off. She took a breath. “Daria’s just mixed up. The whole Tom thing. I’ll have to spend more time with her, that’s all.” Her eyes grabbed his, intense. “Trust me. There’s nothing there.” There can’t be.

“But …” Trent appeared to sense the futility of argument. “I’m going to go back downstairs and make sure she’s okay. See you in the morning.”

After Trent left, Jane changed into her nightclothes, her mind spinning. Nothing there. Just jealous. She sighed as she slipped between the sheets. Perhaps, with a little effort, she could get things to the way they were before tonight. But first, must deal with tomorrow. Must …have …plan …

Jane slid into a fitful sleep.

***

“So … where do we begin?” Jane asked, half to herself. The two friends were sitting at the table in the Lane kitchen, steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Daria looked uncomfortable, but resigned. Jane wasn’t sure how this was going to go. “I guess the first thing I have to ask is obvious. Are you gay?”

Daria shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a straight answer.” Jane winced inwardly at the unintended pun. “What was last night about, then?” I have got to end this now.

“Truth? Love? I don’t know.”

“Tom?” Jane offered. “Is this because of Tom? You and I are best friends, Daria. I’ve never had that before. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.” She gazed into her coffee. “I know you aren’t thrilled about next weekend. Tom and I, I mean.”

“Jane …”

“I’m canceling.” Jane looked up. “I’ve been neglecting you again. Tom and I don’t need to rush things.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

Jane smiled a little. “You know me so well.” Her gaze shifted to the kitchen window. “Do you know what I’ve always wanted, Daria? To someday meet someone who accepted me as I am, who loved me for being me, who needed me to be me … and who was also a guy.” Jane paused and looked intently at her best friend. “I need that last part.”

The flint of Daria’s eyes sparked and for the briefest moment, Jane felt herself baking in the furnace of twin suns. Then Daria blinked and the flames were snuffed. Jane wavered, but only momentarily.

“I need you as my best friend. I need us the way we were before.” Jane’s gaze dropped. “I can’t handle us any other way.”

The kitchen became very quiet. Daria’s gray eyes narrowed in thought, betraying nothing. Long seconds stretched by.

“Status quo ante.”

“What?” Jane asked, puzzled.

“That’s what you want. Status quo ante. The state of things before.”

“I guess.” Jane swallowed. “Yes. That’s what I want.” That’s what I need.

“I have to think about this.” Daria pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “I’m going to get dressed and go for a walk.” Without another word, she left the kitchen. Several minutes later, she reappeared in the doorway, wearing a fresh change of clothes. “I may be gone for a while.” Then she left.

Jane sat in the kitchen, staring at her coffee.

***

She’s been gone for hours. Jane slowly stirred the lukewarm sludge in her earthenware mug, her blank face masking the maelstrom within her head. What if she doesn’t come back? What if she does want more? Jane shook her head. No! There was only one way. Daria was her best friend. Her best friend.

I can’t handle us any other way.

Jane pushed the full implications of that statement into the back of her mind. She rose from the table, taking the remains of her morning coffee to the sink. Everything will be okay. The murky liquid disappeared down the disposal. Everything will return to normal. Hot water from the tap foamed the soap in the mug. The way it was before. Bristles scraped the glazed clay surface. The way it was before. Rinse. Soap. Scrub.

Behind her, the front door creaked. Jane shut off the water, looking straight ahead. Footsteps crossed the living room and stopped. Jane closed her eyes. She dropped the brush in the sink. She turned.

“Daria?” Hesitant, uncertain.

Hopeful sky-blue stared into unblinking steel-gray.

Firm. Resolute. “Status quo ante.”

Relief surged over Jane. She flew across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around her best friend in a rib-cracking embrace. Thank-you! Thank-you! In her excitement, Jane ignored the momentary tremor that pulsed through Daria’s frame and the low moan that barely escaped her lips.