Postmortem part 2
By Nom de Plume or just Paige
*Just wanted to make sure everyone knows this takes place after "Fire!" and I'm speculating regarding the events of "Dye! Dye! My Darling"...okay, so on with the show.
"So why the costume?" Tom asked.
"No reason really, I just..." Daria said but trailed off, as much as she appreciated Tom as a friend at this point, she still needed practice on how to get close to a person.
"You don't have to tell me" Tom said, his eyes on his pizza slice.
"Thanks" Daria mumbled, truly grateful he didn't pry. It was a few minutes before either one of them spoke up again but Tom was the first to break it.
"You want to go for a walk?"
Tom's pizza was untouched, except for the crust. He just wasn't hungry. Daria looked down at her own plate, her slice, basically, was untouched as well, so she consented and nodded. Walking out of Pizza King, the sun glared down on them.
" Listen, I need to talk to you."
"I do too."
"Let's go."
"Lead the way"
The two started walking down the sidewalk, with no real destination in mind.
"You know, the last couple of weeks, I've felt as if I were in limbo, Daria."
She sighed; she knew the feeling.
"You're just joking about that, right?"
Jane had been haunted by those words since she had broken up with Tom. However, when Jodie had asked that, she had been too exasperated to actually listen. Running her fingers through her hair, she wondered why she hadn't realized that her relationship with Tom had never been too promising. Sitting around, watching television, and making fun of what they saw worked in her friendship with Daria...so of course she assumed it would be enough to keep a relationship with Tom going, if not strong, at least going.
With everything that had passed by, the more she realized how much those two were alike. And she wondered if she had been the intruder.
Tom and Daria.
Daria and Tom.
She closed her eyes and remembered that day.
Jane stood at the doorway to the kitchen, hands at her sides. There they were; Tom leaning close to Daria, his arm on the back of her chair.
Immediately, she remembered how far apart they, Tom and her, had sat on the couch the day Daria came over in order to ask Jane for a place to stay. Jane now cringed and felt her blood rise to her cheeks and wondered why she had acted the way she had. It pained her to think of how she had behaved towards her best friend, only friend.
Twisting a strand of hair around her finger, she thought how ironically true it was; there was a connection between a woman deciding to change her haircolor and the status of her relationship. She had read that once in one of Quinn's fashion magazines that had strayed into Daria's room. She had laughed at that when she first read it, but now in retrospect, it had proven to be such a truthful insight that it hurt her.
. Turning over on her bed, she stared at the ceiling. She still felt pain vibrating from a shrouded place inside her. All her life she had she had never witnessed a couple interact, a functional couple at least. She had observed Trent and Monique, but before they broke up permanently, they would break up every other week or so.
Getting up, she headed to her easel, even though she knew it was futile. She'd just be wasting paint.
Daria and Tom walked. He with his hands stuffed into his front pockets and she with her own hands in her jacket's pockets. They really hadn't said anything. There was a comment every now and then, but they were far in between and unimportant. They were opening their mouths just to brake the silence.
Daria sat in the kitchen, cleaning her hands, which were stained with dye. She couldn't believe she had actually agreed to assist Jane with dying her hair. There was a knock at the door and Daria went to see whom it was. She opened the door. It was he. Smiling, he greeted her.
"Jane's upstairs." She said and added, " I doubt she'd mind if you went up there."
"Nah, I'll just wait for her here."
Noticing her hands, he gave her a funny look she caught.
"Don't ask."
With hands still stained, she got up and told Tom she better get to her home and finish her homework.
" On a Friday?"
Daria just nodded and was about to walk out of the kitchen when tom smirked.
"What's so funny?"
"Didn't school end today?"
"Oh, right"
Mentally kicking herself, she walked back and sat on her seat.
"You know you'll never get that off."
"Great, I'll just spend the rest of days with purple hands.... I guess there goes my hand-modeling career.
"I doubt it, two weeks max"
"Oh, and I take it you're a specialist regarding dye" Daria smirked "What DO you do when not hanging around Jane?"
"Well for one thing, I talk to you."
Daria became uncomfortable, moving around in her seat and averting her eyes from his face.
"Give me your hands"
"What?"
"You have to scrub Daria or you'll be stuck with purple hands for two weeks"
"Hey, I don't mind"
Tom wore a weary expression and still held out his hands.
"Fine." And she gave him her hands.
" Yep, you have to scrub"
"Right, I'll try to remember that"
"You better," he grinned, "especially if you insist on dying your hands purple every Friday."
He looked down at her hands.
"Do I dare ask who used the rest of the dye?"
"If you're done with my hands, I think I'll take them back now."
Tom freed her hands. They were now only slightly violet.
"Where is Jane?"
Daria kept drying her hands.
"I mean, you still have your natural hair color, unless..."
"No Tom, I'm really a blonde but I dye my hair brown so that model scouts quit harassing me."
Tom laughed. Daria looked at him, amused.
"Oh and why is that so funny?"
Tom smiled affectionately at her.
"Well maybe I just like purple hands." She said as she looked down at her hands again
She inwardly sighed. She really didn't want to be there at that moment.
Taking of her glasses, she placed them on the tabletop and scratched her eyes. They were watery. The chemicals in the dye had really done a job on them.
Tom, never having seen Daria without her glasses leaned in a little to look at her face better. At that moment, Daria turned towards him. Their faces close. Trent's words flew across her mind.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
It made Tom and Daria jump in their seats. Jane stood at the kitchen doorway, her hands clinched into fists. The red of her lips seemingly overtaking the rest of her face. They both looked at Jane bewildered. Her bottom lip twitching and her eyes no longer the celestial blue but a resentful gray. With each passing second, anger finally being able to manifest itself openly, took the form of flushness and it swept through her.
The envision of that very moment, in Jane's mind, burned her cheeks with embarrassment. Slapping her forehead, she closed her eyes and wished she could forever entomb that moment. But she couldn't. Something inside her, a truculent aspect of her, heaved the memories back into her, right before her eyes. She wished for nothing more than to pulverize the memories of that day, but something in her would just be too strong and not make her forget. She felt limp, seeing those memories play in her mind like a slide show; crippling slow, almost unbearable.
Author speaks: Hey, you made it this far! Congratulations from the bottom of my heart. As you can tell, there's still more to come, though I'm busy working out things as far as story line goes. There's also a lot of pressure to get this to you complete by the time the season finale airs. That would definitely make this story completely obsolete so before that happens, I want to be done with this. But really, isn't all fan fiction obsolete. Well, I just know I'm itching to get this story out and it's not just because of this stupid cashmere sweater on my back.
I'd like to thank Cashewcountess for letting me use her mailbox. I now have my own so don't be shy and send some feedback my way at Paigeblume@hotmail.com
*Once again, I don't own anything (except for my interesting collection of teddy bears:)) much less do I own Daria. MTV and the powers that, be own her, Lawndale , Upchuck...I'm just a fan.
By Nom de Plume or just Paige
*Just wanted to make sure everyone knows this takes place after "Fire!" and I'm speculating regarding the events of "Dye! Dye! My Darling"...okay, so on with the show.
"So why the costume?" Tom asked.
"No reason really, I just..." Daria said but trailed off, as much as she appreciated Tom as a friend at this point, she still needed practice on how to get close to a person.
"You don't have to tell me" Tom said, his eyes on his pizza slice.
"Thanks" Daria mumbled, truly grateful he didn't pry. It was a few minutes before either one of them spoke up again but Tom was the first to break it.
"You want to go for a walk?"
Tom's pizza was untouched, except for the crust. He just wasn't hungry. Daria looked down at her own plate, her slice, basically, was untouched as well, so she consented and nodded. Walking out of Pizza King, the sun glared down on them.
" Listen, I need to talk to you."
"I do too."
"Let's go."
"Lead the way"
The two started walking down the sidewalk, with no real destination in mind.
"You know, the last couple of weeks, I've felt as if I were in limbo, Daria."
She sighed; she knew the feeling.
"You're just joking about that, right?"
Jane had been haunted by those words since she had broken up with Tom. However, when Jodie had asked that, she had been too exasperated to actually listen. Running her fingers through her hair, she wondered why she hadn't realized that her relationship with Tom had never been too promising. Sitting around, watching television, and making fun of what they saw worked in her friendship with Daria...so of course she assumed it would be enough to keep a relationship with Tom going, if not strong, at least going.
With everything that had passed by, the more she realized how much those two were alike. And she wondered if she had been the intruder.
Tom and Daria.
Daria and Tom.
She closed her eyes and remembered that day.
Jane stood at the doorway to the kitchen, hands at her sides. There they were; Tom leaning close to Daria, his arm on the back of her chair.
Immediately, she remembered how far apart they, Tom and her, had sat on the couch the day Daria came over in order to ask Jane for a place to stay. Jane now cringed and felt her blood rise to her cheeks and wondered why she had acted the way she had. It pained her to think of how she had behaved towards her best friend, only friend.
Twisting a strand of hair around her finger, she thought how ironically true it was; there was a connection between a woman deciding to change her haircolor and the status of her relationship. She had read that once in one of Quinn's fashion magazines that had strayed into Daria's room. She had laughed at that when she first read it, but now in retrospect, it had proven to be such a truthful insight that it hurt her.
. Turning over on her bed, she stared at the ceiling. She still felt pain vibrating from a shrouded place inside her. All her life she had she had never witnessed a couple interact, a functional couple at least. She had observed Trent and Monique, but before they broke up permanently, they would break up every other week or so.
Getting up, she headed to her easel, even though she knew it was futile. She'd just be wasting paint.
Daria and Tom walked. He with his hands stuffed into his front pockets and she with her own hands in her jacket's pockets. They really hadn't said anything. There was a comment every now and then, but they were far in between and unimportant. They were opening their mouths just to brake the silence.
Daria sat in the kitchen, cleaning her hands, which were stained with dye. She couldn't believe she had actually agreed to assist Jane with dying her hair. There was a knock at the door and Daria went to see whom it was. She opened the door. It was he. Smiling, he greeted her.
"Jane's upstairs." She said and added, " I doubt she'd mind if you went up there."
"Nah, I'll just wait for her here."
Noticing her hands, he gave her a funny look she caught.
"Don't ask."
With hands still stained, she got up and told Tom she better get to her home and finish her homework.
" On a Friday?"
Daria just nodded and was about to walk out of the kitchen when tom smirked.
"What's so funny?"
"Didn't school end today?"
"Oh, right"
Mentally kicking herself, she walked back and sat on her seat.
"You know you'll never get that off."
"Great, I'll just spend the rest of days with purple hands.... I guess there goes my hand-modeling career.
"I doubt it, two weeks max"
"Oh, and I take it you're a specialist regarding dye" Daria smirked "What DO you do when not hanging around Jane?"
"Well for one thing, I talk to you."
Daria became uncomfortable, moving around in her seat and averting her eyes from his face.
"Give me your hands"
"What?"
"You have to scrub Daria or you'll be stuck with purple hands for two weeks"
"Hey, I don't mind"
Tom wore a weary expression and still held out his hands.
"Fine." And she gave him her hands.
" Yep, you have to scrub"
"Right, I'll try to remember that"
"You better," he grinned, "especially if you insist on dying your hands purple every Friday."
He looked down at her hands.
"Do I dare ask who used the rest of the dye?"
"If you're done with my hands, I think I'll take them back now."
Tom freed her hands. They were now only slightly violet.
"Where is Jane?"
Daria kept drying her hands.
"I mean, you still have your natural hair color, unless..."
"No Tom, I'm really a blonde but I dye my hair brown so that model scouts quit harassing me."
Tom laughed. Daria looked at him, amused.
"Oh and why is that so funny?"
Tom smiled affectionately at her.
"Well maybe I just like purple hands." She said as she looked down at her hands again
She inwardly sighed. She really didn't want to be there at that moment.
Taking of her glasses, she placed them on the tabletop and scratched her eyes. They were watery. The chemicals in the dye had really done a job on them.
Tom, never having seen Daria without her glasses leaned in a little to look at her face better. At that moment, Daria turned towards him. Their faces close. Trent's words flew across her mind.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
It made Tom and Daria jump in their seats. Jane stood at the kitchen doorway, her hands clinched into fists. The red of her lips seemingly overtaking the rest of her face. They both looked at Jane bewildered. Her bottom lip twitching and her eyes no longer the celestial blue but a resentful gray. With each passing second, anger finally being able to manifest itself openly, took the form of flushness and it swept through her.
The envision of that very moment, in Jane's mind, burned her cheeks with embarrassment. Slapping her forehead, she closed her eyes and wished she could forever entomb that moment. But she couldn't. Something inside her, a truculent aspect of her, heaved the memories back into her, right before her eyes. She wished for nothing more than to pulverize the memories of that day, but something in her would just be too strong and not make her forget. She felt limp, seeing those memories play in her mind like a slide show; crippling slow, almost unbearable.
Author speaks: Hey, you made it this far! Congratulations from the bottom of my heart. As you can tell, there's still more to come, though I'm busy working out things as far as story line goes. There's also a lot of pressure to get this to you complete by the time the season finale airs. That would definitely make this story completely obsolete so before that happens, I want to be done with this. But really, isn't all fan fiction obsolete. Well, I just know I'm itching to get this story out and it's not just because of this stupid cashmere sweater on my back.
I'd like to thank Cashewcountess for letting me use her mailbox. I now have my own so don't be shy and send some feedback my way at Paigeblume@hotmail.com
*Once again, I don't own anything (except for my interesting collection of teddy bears:)) much less do I own Daria. MTV and the powers that, be own her, Lawndale , Upchuck...I'm just a fan.