Disclaimer, Daria and all characters created by Glenn Eichler for the MTV series are the property of MTV. This story belongs to no one. Anyone who wishes to increase, edit, or embellish this story is welcome to do so, as long as it is not for profit.

We only hurt the ones we love.

Chapter 1:

As she stared at the freshly placed glass of soda while sitting in a well worn booth of a down-scale chain restaurant; Daria had to admit, that of the many possibilities her decision to end – unannounced – her estrangement and return to her family might involve. The fact that said family had up and moved (to only God knew where), was absolutely, the possibility she was most unprepared to pursue. Had it really been almost nine years since she had made the decision to escape from the yelling and fighting of which she was the cause; to run away with only a book bag stuffed with – what, for a six year old, were essentials – a change of clothes, a blanket, a box of Ho-Hos and her hard bound copy of Black Beauty. Daria – at that time – wasn't certain what Deity had watched over her; but, somehow, as a six year old, she had managed to not only climb aboard a freight train and emerge – unscathed – two days later in central Idaho, but to then convince a secluded community of ultra-fundamentalists she had been fleeing her drug-addicted, prostitute single Mother. They had fallen for her remarkable tale and taken her in; stating it was obviously the hand of God that had delivered her from iniquity into their devout and God-fearing fold.

Her recollections were, temporarily, intruded upon when the Waitress had returned to take Daria's order; but as soon as the order for pancakes, bacon and hash browns had been placed, Daria returned to her thoughts over the events that had led to her current predicament. The Elders of the Community had given over guardianship of Daria to a childless couple in their forties; who had genuinely and lovingly looked after Daria's every need. Daria wasn't certain when it had happened, but over time, George and Eileen Davidson became Mom and Dad in her heart. The peaceful, quiet, predictably, structured lifestyle of her adopted community produced a calming, agreeable effect upon Daria and soon memories of her prior life had retreated to an infrequently visited corner of her mind. By the age of eleven; however, Daria, started to feel somewhat alienated, not by the adults – the adults found her quick witted, inquisitive and competent in the Scriptures – but with the fellow children. Even after five years as a member of the community, Daria was not a favored playmate of any of the children; slowly she found herself invited out to play less and less, until, eventually, she was only invited to play when the other children were forced to by an adult. At that point – finding few opportunities to actually spend her allowance and other small gifts and earnings; Daria began to save what monies she received – secretly – in the space under a loose floorboard beneath her bed. Over the following four years she had managed to save over a thousand dollars, of which a portion was soon to be used to pay for her hungrily anticipated meal.

Hungry? Yes, Daria was certainly hungry. In the preceding forty eight hours she had subsisted on only candy bars and bagged snacks purchased during the short stopovers while awaiting the buses required for the four legs of her journey. First was the overnight trip from Boise to Denver, then the second overnight trip from Denver to Amarillo and then the shorter trips comprising Amarillo to Lubbock and finally downtown Highland. Where now - Due to that blasted TV show - she sat tired, stiff, aching, hungry and apparently no closer to her family. The TV show had been a serendipitous accident, an incredible, world shattering accident, which had led to four months careful, detailed planning. The logistics of choosing bus routes, budgeting scarce resources and awaiting a suitable opportunity had taken so long...too long. If they had not been visiting her Dad's Brother's family in Montana – there was no television in her home – Daria, would have never even known the heartbreaking truth.

The sound of her food being delivered prevented further self-castigation. As Daria silently ate, she replayed the relevant portions of the show in her mind. The show was a special on run away children, specifically, children gone for so long law enforcement had presumed them dead and had closed their investigations. During her time with her Mom and Dad in Idaho, Daria occasionally wondered how her decision to run away had affected her family back in Highland. She had been a disruptive misfit, the catalyst slowly rending her family asunder. So, without her, they must be happier, better adjusted. Her Family was better off without her; this was the rationalization that Daria fell back on to defend her decision to run away and then to stay away. That all changed, suddenly, that night as she watched the television show and saw them, her parents, emotionally expressing their loss, their pain and their faith that their oldest daughter was still alive. Then – to Daria's utter astonishment – the camera angle changed and before her was her sister, Quinn. Quinn was looking straight at her through the camera, saying how she missed her older sister and prayed every day for her to return. Quinn was beseeching, imploring, with tear streaked cheeks, for Daria to, please, come home and make their family whole. Then the camera returned to her parents who reiterated their daughters plea for Daria to return home. That for nine long years they have missed her. Daria only became aware that she'd been crying...hard, when the splitty-splat sound of the tears dripping from her chin onto the rim of the dinner plate had registered in her ears and returned her mind to the here and now. After lifting her glasses and using a paper napkin to wipe the tears from her face, Daria took several deep slow breaths and slowly brought herself under control. She was making a spectacle of herself...that, simply, would not do. Changes to her plans needed to be considered, She certainly had no intention of spending one second longer then absolutely necessary in the cesspool called Highland, Texas. God, why hadn't she just called first. Stupid self-reliance.

She had been surprised when a young couple had answered the door of her old house in Highland. While cordial, there was little that they could tell her as to the whereabouts of the previous owners. The only useful information they could provide was the name of the realtors involved in the sale. So, hopefully, tomorrow she would learn the new address either from the Realtor that sold the house, or possibly from the local Post Office, if one was allowed to request a forwarding address. One thing was certain, her rear-weary, grayhound bus riding days were not quite yet over.

To be continued...