a/n: okay, okay. I know I said that Hana Hou was complete, so let's just say it is. I think it's okay as it is, even with a lot of things left unexplained. I'm not saying that I'll satisfy anyone with explanation that plays by the rules of our universe- some mysteries are needed, after all. I'm just claiming that this story is kind of a sequel of sorts, based on the post-canon AU created in Hana Hou; and yeah, I know I need to finish other stories that I started. I will, honest.

So anyway, Daria and canon characters are the intellectual property of MTV/Viacom or whomever has acquired ownership thereof. This is a work of fanfiction, strictly for fun and enjoyment, and nothing of any value has been exchanged in its creation. Especially money. Sheesh.

Hana Hou, Pt. 2

Daria gingerly escaped from the thing Jane called her car, wondering if she had lost any fillings along the way. Ah, solid ground. She finger combed her ratted hair, now understanding why Jane and Kimmy had both put on pairs of oversize sunglasses and loose, Rasta-style knit caps.

She waited until the other two had dug their stuff out of the rear cargo crate, and pulled out her phone to snap a picture. "Lean up against the beast," she instructed.

"No way, I'm clean," giggled Kimmy.

"Hey, don't diss the turtle," smiled Jane. She patted her rusty WWII surplus jeep, complete with dented gas cans and a shovel bungeed to the side. Daria was sure that the shovel was needed, judging from the scrapes and dents and mud along the jeep's flanks. "You'd be amazed where this thing can go. Some of the best places are where the dang tourists can't reach."

"And no windshield to get in the way of the view," Daria smirked.

"It's just kinda stuck down in the folded position," said Jane, waving as Kimmy walked off to join her friends.

"See you guys at home," the girl smiled. "I'll get a ride. I have band practice."

The two women headed for the school office. "Nice that the local schools don't skimp on Arts programs," Daria noted.

"What makes you think you're getting paid?"

"Do I have to buy the pencils too?"

"I buy the pencils. You get to buy the erasers." They pushed through the doors and were waved towards the Principal's office.

"Morning, ladies," smiled an older woman as they walked past, seated at a desk across from an unhappy looking student.

Daria returned the greeting, noticing her latest novel on the desk, under a bag lunch- as well as two of her less dignified, somewhat racy romances (written under a pseudonym, of course) in a tray on the desktop. She shot Jane a look.

"Those were confiscated," Jane whispered gleefully. "They can be quite the engaging distraction. She doesn't know, and won't if you buy pizza next time we're in town."

"Done," sighed Daria.

They stepped into a modest, but airy and bright office. A somewhat portly, smiling gentleman stood, as did a younger woman with an iPad in hand. He was neatly dressed in slacks and a rather colorful Aloha shirt, while the woman was more conservatively attired for business.

"You must be Ms. Morgendorffer," he boomed genially. "My name is Edward Kahele, and this is Ms. Pualani Morse, from the Garden Island newspaper. Ms. Carla Fernandez, who heads the Language Arts department here, will be joining us shortly in the lounge and staff room as soon as homeroom matters are attended to."

"Morning, Ed, Pua," nodded Jane.

Pualani held out a hand. "I swear, Ed, you guys are the luckiest school in the state. Ms. Morgendorffer-"

"Daria, please. Ms. Morgendorffer is my mother."

"Daria, both you and Jane here are quite the luminaries in your fields! I hope to help Ed here to get the students here to appreciate just how lucky they are to have you both as Artists in Residence."

Jane smiled. "I can't wait to see how the kids fare under the reign of Her Majesty the Grammar Queen."

Ed sat on the edge of his desk, indicating chairs set along the wall. "I've made sure that Ms. Fernadez knows that the selection criteria for participation will be of a very high standard."

Daria took a seat, moving it closer and turning it towards the desk. Jane simply nodded to her. "Gotta make sure the kids don't make my teaching assistant cry." With that, she headed out the door.

Pua simply shook her head, a smile at the corners of her mouth. "Your friend is quite a character. The kids love her, even though she pushes them to the limit."

Ed nodded. "She's gotten some amazing work out of them." He and Pualani exchanged a glance. "I believe that this session will prove to be an interesting challenge for you, Daria."

"I've gone through the selected work that Ms. Fernandez has sent me," Daria said simply. "I do have some concerns."

Ed nodded, glancing at the clock. "Carla should be ready to join us soon. Let's wait until she arrives, shall we?" He led them out into the hallway. Fragments of casual conversation and soft laughter among the staff were audible as they headed for the Teacher's lounge. The heavy Pidgen English accent seemed to be almost universal, emerging effortlessly as the need for formality and professionalism eased between coworkers. The aromas of coffee and freshly baked sweet rolls greeted them as they entered the room.

Carla Fernandez was a woman with considerable command presence. She arrived in the teacher's staffroom moments after the trio had filled their coffee cups, making a beeline for Daria. Her hair was pulled back in a rather severe bun, which made her look somewhat older and perhaps a bit more tightly wound than she otherwise would. She seemed a bit frazzled around the edges, not a good sign so early in the school day.

She grasped Daria's hand with a slightly damp but assertive grip. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor Morgendorffer," Noticing the expression on Ed's face, she smiled at him. "What, you nevah know?" Carla laughed, making no effort to tone down the Pidgen English. "She one Doctah! Eh, slap yo'head! You supposed to know dis kine stuff, yeah?" She looked at Daria to catch her reaction.

Daria tried hard to maintain her patented deadpan expression, but instead broke into a smile. "Whatevahs," she said with perfect inflection. "No baddah me." Thanks for the coaching, Kimmy.

Pua and Ed cracked up. Carla smiled. "A sense of humor. Good, you're going to need it."

Daria decided that she liked Carla.

Ed spoke up. "Doctor Morgendorf-" he paused momentarily as Daria held up a finger, wagging it slightly. "Daria," he corrected, "you mentioned that you had some concerns about the samples of work that Carla had gathered for you."

"Yes, they were quite competent. Carla, your staff has done good work in bringing at least the student group represented in your samples to national educational standards."

Ed seemed puzzled by this. "I thought you felt the work was not up to your expectations."

"I didn't say that. I said that I had concerns." Daria looked at Carla. "I expect to learn as much or more than I manage to teach these kids," she said simply. "As a written medium, Hawaiian Creole English doesn't work well, which is not uncommon for any Creole. It is, as it naturally evolved to be, a purely spoken medium. Still, I suspect that bilingual writers can turn that cognitive flexibility into an expressive sensibility. I'd like to see if that's true, and if so, I'd like to better understand how it's done."

"Bilingual?" Ed responded after a moment. "So you consider Pidgen to be a real language?"

"I do," Daria said, wondering why this would come as a surprise. "Kids here are fluent in Hawaiian 'Pidgen English', which has all of the linguistic characteristics of any language. They learn and speak 'Standard American English' here in school and wherever a certain amount of decorum is required. They are bilingual. I'd like to include students which may not reach high standards in English proficiency but also show a creative ability, which is more likely to be in some form of poetry, music, visual arts or some form of multimedia."

Pua and Carla smiled broadly. Ed seemed more reticent, and stood with his right hand curled over his lips, his left hand grasping his right elbow.

Daria smirked. "Don't worry, Ed, I'll make sure the kids bring honor and glory to your school."

"Daria," Kimmy said quietly as she waved to her friends who had dropped her off at home, "Does it make you feel badly if I don't call you mom?"

"Not at all. The longer I know you the more you feel like a daughter to me, but I'm not trying to take your mother's place." She looked at the girl softly. "I call you Kimmy because that's who you are. Kimmy, the smart young lady who I like more and more every day. The girl I'm falling in love with. Are you gonna get mad if I slip and call you my daughter?"

She smiled shyly. "No. I don't want to call you my Daddy's girlfriend, because you're more than that. Auntie Jane is my Auntie, and I kind of thought of you as another Auntie, but that's not quite right, and …oh, I don't know anymore."

"It's okay if you just call me Daria." It's who I am. And I know I'm more than just Daria, because you sound a little bit happier when you say it. Good enough for me."

"Okay." She reached over and gave Daria a little sideways hug. "Daria, why are you smiling?"

"I just thought of a cartoon I saw somewhere, of dogs greeting each other around a fire hydrant. They're all standing around like humans, and one of them is introducing himself formally instead of just sniffing dog butts."

"…And he's saying, 'I am called Rex, the Soiler of Carpets!" Kimmy laughed, reaching gently for Daria's glasses. Putting them on, she lifted her chin royally and said 'I am called Daria, the Healer of Hearts." She carefully handed Daria her glasses back. "I guess just Daria will do. If you and Daddy get married, I'll promote you to mom. I'll have two." She turned to go help her father in the kitchen.

Daria stood like a deer in headlights, looking at the two of them. She could see the natural physical grace that Trent had in Kimmy, who looked like a slightly taller version of herself at that age. Prettier, though, with that beautiful straight hair that hung down to the middle of her back. It was almost a blue-black, like silk. It made Daria want to grow her own hair out again; she had cut it shorter during college, as it required less effort to keep up. Sometimes Kimmy sat for her, letting her brush her hair. It was odd how the simple contact, mostly in silence, soothed them both.

Damn, I must be allergic to something around here.

She wiped the moisture from her eyes and tried to focus on the stack of her student's work that she had gathered that afternoon.

"You're gonna let your mom stay there?"

"I'd rather let her use my place rather than sell it or rent it out. Besides, she's supposed to keep my bedroom clear for when we stay there. Not just Mom, but Quinn and her family, and my Aunt Amy whenever they need to be in Boston."

"Helen may as well move to Boston permanently, with the way she likes it there. Why does she still have that big house in Lawndale anyway?"

"Retirement just gives her license to randomly show up at work and torture the younger Partners and Associates. That, and I think she's kind of attached to that house…Quinn's kids accidentally scattered Dad's ashes in the back yard."

"Oh yeah," Jane laughed. "I forgot about that. I don't think you guys should tell the kids. I'm sure that the big jar of powdery stuff on the mantle did kinda sorta look like rose bush aphid killer."

"Well, the ashes were in a plastic peanut butter jar. Figures Dad liked the idea of 'sticking it to the man' by recycling a Skippy jar instead of paying five grand for a tacky gold painted metal box."

"I guess I should call Rupert at my gallery and have him come pick up my paintings and crap. I'm sure a lot of my stuff will freak your Mom out."

"It's not crap," defended Daria. "It's from another time in your life. But I'm really attached to quite a few pieces, some of which I'm not clear on weather or not you actually gave them to me."

"So we'll have him go through the stuff on a video call and have the keepers left alone. And if you liked it, it was yours and you know it."

"Thank you. And the next time I create another sexy Jane-inspired heroine for one of my housewife porn romances I'll be sure to give her much bigger boobs."

"Goodie, backaches," Jane smirked. "Make sure I get to suffocate some bad guys."

Dear Mom,

I miss you, and wish you were still here.

I know you still are in a lot of ways, but you know what I mean.

Daria says I just have to look in a mirror to see you. Daddy says I look a lot like you.

I hope you don't mind that I sometimes call Daria Mom. She makes Daddy happy like you did, and I know she really loves him. She loves me too, and yeah, me too. You know what I mean.

Oh, ok, I love Daria too. Even though they haven't talked about getting married, she still worries about me like you did.

Do. Oh, I don't know. Sometimes I think you live in her in some way, or maybe I'm just projecting, just wishing that it's true. I don't like the idea that she's replacing you. That's something that Daria says she doesn't want to do, but maybe it's not something that she has any real control over.

Am I betraying you? I hope not. We still have your picture that Auntie Jane did, framed in the living room where we all see it every day. Daria made the frame herself and asked me to decide where I wanted to hang it. At first I put it in my room, but she told me that Daddy pokes his head in to look at it sometimes.

I have to admit that I kind of thought that it would hurt Daria's feelings to see him looking at your picture, but she says it's natural, because you and Daddy loved each other, and if you guys hadn't met, I wouldn't be here.

Daria's kinda weird, but in a good way. I'm glad she's here.

I love you, Mom. Always will.

-Kimmy

The girl capped her pen and closed her journal. Tucking it carefully into her desk drawer, she leaned back in her chair and yawned.

It was late. Everyone else was asleep; even Auntie Jane's studio was dark.

Turning off her desk lamp, she sat in the dark for a few minutes before climbing into her bed.