Trent recoiled from his other as if struck. He had gotten a bad vibe off of his doppelganger right at first sight, but brushed it off as willies from seeing somebody who was, for all intents and purposes, himself. But that was no longer the case: it was actually a monster who wore a man's face. (Trent was so disgusted with his twin that he didn't even think to note the line for a potential song lyric later).

"How?" he cried out, his voice a mixture of sorrow and rage. "How could you do that to our...your sister?"

The other Trent smirked, a look of condescension in his eyes. "How could I not? Mom and Dad were never there to look after her, they never paid any goddamn bills. How else was I supposed to keep a roof over our head? How else was I supposed to keep the heat and the water and the electricity?"

"Sell your fucking guitar! Get a real job! Anything but...but..."

"Well? Come on, I want to hear you say it." The monster actually put a hand to his ear, goading.

Instead, Trent balled up his fist and struck the impostor across the jaw.

Amazed, he looked down at his hand, still clenched tightly. He had never lashed out in anger in his entire life, and now -

The blow to the stomach bent him over and knocked all the wind out of him. "If you're gonna punch a guy, genius, don't stop with just one," the other Trent commented. "Like this." Trent felt hands on either side of his head, and then saw the knee come up and felt his nose explode into pain and blood.

He staggered back, choking for air as the monster landed blow after blow upon him. "And what the hell is up with 'sell my guitar', anyway? Whatever happened to eyes on the prize?"

The other Trent grabbed him by the head again, only this time they were face-to-face. "I guess if you don't really have your eyes on the prize, you don't need them anymore, do you?" The shark's grin on the monster's face was the last thing Trent saw as his doppelganger's thumbs found their way into his eyes, and he began screaming.

XXXX

Trent sat bolt upright in bed, the sweat coating his body feeling icy against the rest of the room. He ran his hands across his face (no broken nose) and looked at his hands to reassure himself that his eyes were still working. He still felt like he was out of breath, but that was more due to the terrifying nature of the dream and less due to actually having been punched in the gut.

He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and walked down the hall to Jane's room, where a light from under the door indicated she was still awake (by Trent's watch, it was sometime past midnight). "Oh, hey Trent," Jane casually said over her shoulder to him as she continued work on a painting. "What's up?"

He didn't answer her. Instead, he walked straight over to her and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. "I love you, Jane," he said, uncharacteristically dropping the childish 'Janey' he normally used.

"Whoa, what's brought this on?" She turned around (after he released her) and looked up at him, a little concerned.

Embarrassed, Trent rubbed the back of his head. "Oh. Well...Just a bad dream I had."

"Oh. Wanna talk about it?" Trent vigorously shook his head 'no'. Jane shrugged. "Okay then. I love you too, Trent!" She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before returning to her easel. "If you want to stay up a while, there's some pizza left over from when Daria was here earlier in that box," she gestured to the bed. "And if you turn on the radio, Coast to Coast AM should be on now."

"Sounds good, Janey," Trent affirmed, and he felt himself smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

Written for the 'Funhouse Mirror Time' Iron Chef on the PPMB proposed by Lord Yellowtail, in which a canon character meets an AU version of himself created by the author. For those of you unfamiliar with my work, I suggest reading my story 'My Best Friend', or better yet, don't, because it's pretty horrific stuff, haha.