Hell Is Other People

by Arctic Rose

Daria finds out first-handedly that Hell really IS other people. One particular person, in fact...

Hell is Other People

A Daria fanfic by Arctic Rose

Chapter One: The Thursday from Hell

Daria Morgendorffer woke up that Friday morning with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. If she opened her eyes, she knew she would have to face the day, complete with the rift between her and Jane. It wasn't as big as it would get once she unloaded what was weighing so heavily on her mind, but it was already larger than it had ever been during the course of their friendship. Needless to say, she kept her eyes closed, wishing desperately for the mindless oblivion of unconsciousness to overtake her.

Of course, it refused to. So, with a mental sigh, she opened her eyes, dreading the sight of the cracked ceiling of her room.

Her brain took a moment to register what it was that she was currently viewing. Of course, after registering, it still refused to believe what her eyes were telling her. Nearly-blind without her glasses she might be, but color blind she most certainly wasn't; and right now her eyes were saying there was a whole lot of pink above her. Strangely enough, it wasn't blurry, either

At some subconscious level, she realized that she had two options: she could wake up more fully and try to figure out what the pink thing was; or she could close her eyes, and irrational as it might seem, hope it went away while she was asleep. This being the early morning, she chose the latter.

She had almost reached the exquisite nirvana of complete and total unawareness when a voice filtered through the fog that had not quite permeated her brain. GAH! QUINN! YOUR SISTER'S MISSING!

Quinnmissing? Daria's mostly-shut-down brain tried to process the statement while it was still being reluctantly dragged to the surface. What happened to Quinn? Her eyes snapped open and her room came into focus, even though she wasn't wearing her glasses.

Except it wasn't her room.

She barely had a few seconds to take in the deep pile carpet, three-way mirror, and various clothes strewn about when her father burst into the room in full panic mode. Quinn, wake up! Your sister's gone!

she said, trying to frame a reply and startled at the higher pitched, slightly nasal tone of her voice. I'm not-

But Jake was already running down the hall, screaming for his wife. Helen, wake up! Daria's gone!

I'mgone? Daria woke up. Tentatively, she lifted a hand, examining the perfectly manicured nails. Oh, God, she said, even though she didn't usually believe in Him. I'mShe couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, she got out of bed and went over to the three-way mirror. What she saw there inspired a level of terror far beyond any horror flick she and Jane had watched on Bad Movie Night.

Standing there, clad in pajamas and pink fuzzy slippers, Quinn's reflection stared back at her, a look of shock on its face.

Amid the whirling mass of jumbled thoughts that passed for her mind at that moment, Daria tried to organize some semblance of order. Unfortunately, nothing came of it. Eventually she put her sister's body on autopilot while she figured out her options. If she started acting like herself, her parents would think she was making fun of her sister (herself?), or worse, might think that she was insane. The safest thing, therefore, was to get to school and find Jane. Assuming she could somehow convince her of what had happened, her best friend might have some idea what to do.

Abruptly, she realized she was standing in front of the mirror, examining her reflection critically. The belly shirt and flare jeans made her feel exposed and vulnerable, but that couldn't be helped. If she changed her wardrobe any, Helen and Jake would freak, considering they were already worried about whatever had happened to her sister's – no, HER – body. Good Lord, she was going to go crazy if she didn't figure out a way to fix this, and soon.

She opened the door and stepped into the hall, deciding to have a look into her room. Cracking the door open slightly, she saw the familiar padded walls, the bed on which she had been lying while in such inner turmoil last night, the broken TV, and the various articles of debris scattered about on the floor. Picking her way through the mess, she sat down on the bed, hoping for some sort of revelation. None seemed to come, however. Figuring she might as well do the thing properly, she lay down and stared up at the ceiling which she had so dreaded seeing that morning.

Something came to her then. Not a revelation, certainly not an epiphany of any sort, but an impression. The sound of laughter. Derisive, somewhat evil laughter, but familiar somehow

Quinn! Come down here now! Helen's voice was not anywhere near as panicked as her husband's, but certainly was worried, underneath the no-nonsense take-charge tone. I need to talk to you.

Daria took a moment to consider how Quinn would react. But Muh-om, I need to finish my makeup! Having heard Quinn whine often enough, she hoped she could do so convincingly.

Helen sighed loudly and Daria knew she had pulled it off. All right, but come down as soon as you're finished. Daria heard retreating footsteps as Helen went into the living room.

Going into the bathroom, she looked at the myriad bottles and containers of all shapes and sizes. She had no idea what most of them were for; aside from lipstick and maybe a little mascara, she had never worn makeup before. Fortunately, she had heard Quinn babbling on at dinner one night about how the look was in, so she selected a shade of lipstick that seemed fairly close to her sister's lip color, applied it, and put it back. That looked fine, so she decided to leave the rest alone until she had some clue as to what she was doing.

Having left the bathroom, she was about to go downstairs when an idea came to her. She crept into her room again – her room, not the one she had woken up in – and grabbed a pair of her familiar combat boots. This pair had been getting slightly small for her, but they fitted Quinn's feet perfectly. She laced them up and put the bells of her jeans over the tops. Hardly noticeable, but she felt better now. More prepared. Less vulnerable.

As she walked into the kitchen, her mother looked at her approvingly. You certainly came down more quickly than usual. Now, can you tell me where your sister is?

I don't know! Daria mimicked Quinn's exasperated Mother-You're-Prying-Into-My-Life tone. Maybe she went to school early. Maybe she's at her weird art friend's house. Or maybe she decided to elope with Knuckles and move to Tahiti. Oops, Daria thought, as she saw Helen's expression become a stern frown. Rule number one of being Quinn – Keep a handle on the sarcasm.

Daria brought her thoughts back to what her mom was saying. Quinn, you don't need to imitate your sister. It's enough having one sarcastic in the family. If you see her at school, tell her to come home immediately afterward. I need to speak to her.

All right, fine, whatever. I've got to go to school now, Sandi's convening an emergency meeting of the fashion club this morning. She turned around and flounced out, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder as she did so.

Picking up her sister's bag, Daria went out the door. At the corner, she saw Jane waiting, apparently for her. she called, forgetting for a second who she looked like. Jane's expression of condescension mixed with disgust gave her a startling reminder, however.

What do you want, Ms. Fashion-of-the-month? Jane's icy tone of voice brought Daria up short; not because she had hardly ever been on the receiving end of it, but because it was exactly how Daria had imagined Jane would treat her if she told her about the previous night. Suddenly, though, that was on the bottom of her list of priorities. And where's your sister? Jane continued. We're going to be late for school if she doesn't hurry.

Daria tried to come up with an answer that was both explanatory and believable. she said. Seeing Jane's look of surprise, she added helpfully, But she's not really gone.

Jane raised an eyebrow. What the hell are you talking about? You're making even less sense than usual, and for you, that's saying something.

Way to go, Daria thought to herself. Now how do I explain my situation? Or more specifically, how do I explain my situation without her thinking I'm totally nuts? Finally she took a deep breath. Would you believe me if I told you I'm actually Daria?

To her credit, Jane took a moment to survey the girl standing before her before answering. Aside from your somewhat tasteful change in footwear, I don't see any reason to believe that. What are you trying to convince me for, anyway? I thought you despised your sister. Is this some sort of joke?

Daria was trying to come up with a persuasive rebuttal when she heard a car pull up behind her and a window roll down. Hey, Quinn, a familiar deep voice called, do you want a ride to school or would you rather walk with your cousin-or-whatever's geeky friend?

Daria started to contort her face into the placating smile she had seen Quinn use whenever Sandi insulted her, then thought for a moment. Why was she playing Quinn now, when her parents weren't around to freak out? Instead, she turned and gave Sandi a frosty glare. For your information, Sandi, I would rather spend time with someone I can talk to. Unless you have anything else on your agenda aside from the latest kind of blush?

Sandi hid her confusion under a veneer of condescension. But, Quinn, she said patronizingly, the Fashion Club's Blush-a-thon is continuing all this week. We're supposed to talk about blush. Unless, of course, you think that you are a better judge of conversation than the president of the Fashion Club?

As a matter of fact, I do, Sandi. But I'm not going to waste it on a bitch who can't stand even the idea of a little competition.

Sandi turned several shades of red before rolling up the window and zooming off, nearly running Daria over in the process.

Turning back to Jane, Daria saw a look of shock on her friend's face. Convinced yet? she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jane recovered from her catatonic state enough to speak. Well, I'm not sure if you're Daria, but I sure as hell believe you aren't Quinn. But if you really are Daria, then what happened to, she held her hands up in a gesture of confusion,

I don't know, Daria shook her head. I just woke up and she was gone. That's when I realized what had happened to me. I don't even know if Quinn is in her head now or if she's just

Jane's expression turned crafty. Without warning, she started firing off questions as rapidly and precisely as a semi-automatic. What's the fastest glue gun on the market?

Stickmata 5000, Daria answered immediately.

What's my boyfriend's name?

Daria sincerely hoped the sudden onrush of guilt she was feeling wasn't showing.

Jane didn't seem to notice, however. What's your favorite type of music?

She wasn't convinced. Your sister could have told you those things.

Daria was annoyed. And since when have I told Quinn anything?

Jane laughed. That sounds pretty strange, coming from you. But you've convinced me well enough for now. I warn you though, any comparisons of lip gloss or eyeliner and I'm throwing you to the fashion demons.

Daria smiled slightly. Fair enough.

As they started toward the school, Jane asked the very question that had been preying upon Daria's mind all morning. Assuming this isn't just some dream you're having, what do you plan on doing?

I don't know. For once, there's something I don't know. I was kind of hoping it might go away while I was asleep, but

Jane snorted. Not likely. What little experience I've had with supernatural occurrences tells me you're going to be stuck in that body awhile. Daria wondered whether to ask about the implied experience, but decided she really didn't want to know at the moment. One question, though, Jane continued. Which classes are you planning on going to, yours or Quinn's?

Daria replied without hesitation. If the teachers say anything, I'll have them quiz me. They'll probably be amazed at how much this fashion head has learned in one night. Also, there's another reason that, although less entertaining, is more of a deciding factor.

What's that?

I don't know what any of Quinn's classes are.

Daria/Quinn and Jane arrived just as the 15-minute warning bell rang. As they headed to their lockers, however, Sandi caught up with them. Ignoring Jane, she addressed Daria without preamble.

Quinn, as president of the fashion club, I'm afraid I must order you to take a fashion sabbatical until you either choose better company and footwear or resign from the club. However, I have received a petition from one of the members— Daria noticed Stacy smiled slightly —to give you another chance. So, I am prepared to accept you back into the club's good graces, assuming you will apologize for your atrocious behavior this morning.

Daria took a moment to reply, not because she needed to think of what to say, but because she was secretly laughing at Sandi's assumption that she would want to be back in the club. Sandi, much as I once followed the fashion club's philosophy, I no longer wish to spend time with airheads for whom the most pressing matter on their minds is their hairstyle. So I'm afraid you'll have to adjust yourself to only having two mindless sycophants. I resign.

Sandi was thrown off-balance; she had obviously expected Quinn to back down just like every other time she had been threatened with expulsion from the club. She recovered admirably, though. Very well, Quinn, but this resignation is by no means temporary. She then stalked off, sycophants in tow, although Stacy looked as if she would like to say something.

Hmm. I liked that line about the hair. Too bad it was wasted on someone who didn't even get it. Daria jumped slightly; she had almost forgotten about Jane's presence. She started walking toward her locker, hiding her embarrassment. Jane, before we go to class, I need to tell you something. The thing is, it'll sound even worse coming from, well she flipped a strand of bright red hair over her shoulder to make the point,

It's all right. Shoot.

I kissed your boyfriend last night.

Jane raised an eyebrow, looking as if she thought Daria was joking. You did or Quinn did?

I did. Before I became Quinn.

Oh. Well, it doesn't matter.

Daria stopped in her tracks.

Jane shrugged. I'm breaking up with him this afternoon. He's all yours if you want him. If you think he'll want you.

Daria made a derisive sound in her throat. If he'll even believe that I'm not Quinn.

C'est la vie. Having reached her locker, Jane started to turn the dial. Well, maybe not normally, but I don't really see anything you can do about it now.

Daria said, in a voice that was much glummer than anything Quinn had ever used before.

Her reply was cut off by a few voices calling her name. Three male voices, in fact. Hey, Quinn! What's up, Quinn?

Daria was beginning to wonder how her sister ever got to class on time. Hoo boy, she had time to say under her breath before being surrounded by Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie, Quinn's fan club. They talked so fast that she couldn't even tell who was saying what. Fortunately, their dialogue seemed to be interchangeable. Hey Quinn, can I carry your books? Hey Quinn, I've got tickets to the concert Saturday night. Want to come? Hey Quinn, will you come over after school? My parents want to meet you. No, my parents want to meet her! Mine want to more!

Daria held up her hands before things degenerated into a fistfight. Look, I'm busy. Why don't you go ask Sandi out? She'll probably go with you.
The three J's stared at her in shock. Sandi's mean. Yeah, she's a bitch. She's not as nice as you. Even if she is in the fashion club.

Seeing a way out, Daria said, Well, I quit the fashion club, so unless you want to date an unpopular girl, I suggest you leave me alone.

Utter silence. They didn't seem to know how to take this. Finally Jamie said, Uh, all right, and left, the other two following.

Daria leaned over and stuck her head in Jane's open locker. Do me a favor.

What, close the door?

No, cut off my head and stick it in Sandi's locker. It'll give her a heart attack, so at least my death will have served some purpose.

Miss MORgendorffer! Much as I enjoy your gracing our CLASS with your DIVINE PRESENCE, and on TIME no less, you seem to have forGOTten that you do not have this class until THIRD PERIOD! Mr. DeMartino was in full form today, and seemed to be practically champing at the bit for a reason to torture a student.

Daria's missing, so I'm going to fill in for her classes today. I know she wouldn't want her grades to fall while she's gone.

I'm SURE your sister apPREciates your altruIStic offer; however, I don't BELIEVE you have the KNOWledge required to uphold her SPOTLESS RECORD!
Well, we'll just see about that, won't we? Daria turned and made her way to her usual seat next to Jane. Mr. DeMartino was obviously not happy with it, but apparently decided it wasn't worth the bother to make her leave. Now, CLASS, if you reMEMber from YESterday, we were studying the MAGNA CARTA...

As he went on with the lesson, Jane leaned toward Daria's desk. Think the rents will let you come over tonight? I'm sure you don't want to be around while they're looking for you.

It would kind of defeat the purpose. I don't think they'll want me to leave their sight, but if I throw a Quinn tantrum, I could probably get them to let me go. I've seen her do it often enough.

Good. I have something I want to show you.

Daria opened up her mouth to ask what it was when Mr. DeMartino apparently decided it was time to test her. Miss MorgenDORFfer, would you care to tell us what king IMPLEmented the Magna Carta, and WHY HE DID so?

Daria swallowed her question for Jane and answered. King John Softsword, so called because he was a poor soldier, was forced by the members of Parliment to sign the Magna Carta, which granted several rights to the people, including the infamous no taxation without representation clause, which also became an issue during the Revolutionary War.

If Demartino's jaw had dropped any farther, Daria decided she could have stuffed an apple in it. As it was, he ended up leaving her alone for the rest of the hour. Basic human instinct, Daria remembered from a book on psychology she had read once. If you don't understand or can't control something, ignore it. Except I don't have that luxury. Go figure. I never did take the easy way out, I guess.

After pretty much daydreaming the rest of the class away, she and Jane were walking through the hall when Daria heard a now-familiar voice calling Quinn's name. She turned around to find Jamie running to catch up with her. Inwardly, she groaned, but was curious in spite of herself to see what had happened to the rest of her fan club.

Hey, Quinn, he said, panting to catch his breath. I wanted to tell you that I don't care whether you're in the fashion club or not. I just really like you. Will you please go to the concert with me on Saturday night?

Uh, maybe, Daria said, stalling for time. What happened to Joey and Jeffy?

Jamie shrugged. I dunno. I guess they didn't want to be seen with you if you weren't popular.

Daria shook her head, wondering how her sister could live with no real friends. That's very sweet of you, Jamie, but I don't know yet. Can I tell you tomorrow?

His entire visage brightened. You remembered my name!

Now it was Daria's turn to shrug. It's not a hard name to remember.

Okay. Well, see you, Jamie said, and then went to class.

Jane, who had been observing the scene, folded her arms. Well, wasn't that touching, she said, not bothering to hide the irony in her voice.

Daria said, although she knew perfectly well what.

You know perfectly well what. The whole let's-be-nice-to-Quinn's-friends thing. Why didn't you make one of your usual pointed jabs and get rid of him?

Look, Jane, just because I'm still me, doesn't nessecarily mean I can act like myself the entire time. If I cause too much of a ruckus, somehow my parents will hear about it, and then they'll totally freak. Besides, I'm going to have to go somewhere Saturday night if I don't want my parents to suspect.

I'm not convinced. Since when have you cared about freaking your parents out?

Daria sighed. Okay, so maybe I was the tiniest bit touched about how he actually cared about Quinn, and not just her popularity. Besides, I know what it's like to always have people bungling your name.

Jane snorted. Touched is right. Touched in the head.

And since when have you been such an ice queen? I thought you actually cared more about people than I did. Daria was surprised to hear the anger in Quinn's voice.

Jane was obviously angry too. That was before I found out how much it hurts to care about people. And she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Daria confused, angry, and wondering just what the hell Jane was talking about...

to be continued...