I've somewhat altered the Daria backstory here-- of course, given what happened to Daria and her family, it would be altered. Amy Barksdale's writing career I took from an interview with Glenn Eichler.
Disclaimer: All Daria characters created by Glenn Eichler; all Buffy characters created by Joss Whedon; all other characters created by me.
X X X X X
Faith tried to remember if she'd ever seen her name written "in giant dark letters on a wall," as Daria apparently remembered it.
"It might not be your name," Dr. Vaughn said. "It may just be the word."
"Doesn't ring any bells," Faith said. "But Daria and me's memories, they don't seem to overlap much."
"No, they don't," she said. "But if it came from April 10 it would be her first memory of that day. Which would definitely be progress."
Faith had a thought. "Wanna try to put me back under hypnosis? You ain't done that in awhile."
Dr, Vaughn raised her eyebrows. "I hadn't thought about that. The only hypnosis I've used recently has been triggering your changes. I wonder if hypnotizing Daria would also work."
"Puttin' me under got you her, Doc," Faith said. "Maybe doing the same for her might get you what you're lookin' for."
"Okay, I'll try you first, and then switch over to Daria," the doc said.
"Works for me," Faith said.
X X X X X
Lynette Vaughn asked Faith, "Is it the night of April 10, 1997?"
"Yeah."
"Do you see your name anywhere?"
"No."
"What do you see?"
"My mother dead in front of me. That's all I can see."
"Nothing around?"
"Just her and a bottle of booze."
"You know Helen Morgendorffer wasn't a drunk, Faith."
"Yeah. Still a bottle of booze, though."
"What kind of 'booze?'
"Looks like somethin' fancy. Maybe champagne."
"Okay, Faith. Can you go back any further in time?"
"No. This is when I was born."
"Go forward, then. What do you do?"
"I remembered where Mom had kept some cash, and I figured if she was dead I might need it. "She had one of those fake books. I found it and took the cash. About a grand. Enough to get me the hell out of there. Then I changed my clothes --"
"Why?"
"Mine were dirty."
"Dirty?"
"Some kind of stain. Only thing I kept was the leather jacket."
"And then?"
"And then I took off. Found a bus, got on it, rode it till it stopped, got on another one, got to Boston."
"Why did you go to Boston?"
"Just where I wound up. I wasn't thinkin' too clearly back then."
"So you've always known you weren't from Boston?"
"Yeah. Picked up the accent in a year or so on the streets, I guess."
"What was that year like? Before that Englishwoman found you?"
"I survived. I was tough. Learned to fight better; learned I couldn't trust no one but myself. Not like I wasn't fairly sure about that already."
"And you didn't miss school?"
"Ain't like education ever did me any good anyhow. Sure as hell didn't help Daria any, now did it?"
"Interesting. Where did you get the name Faith from?"
"It's my name. Always has been."
"Are you certain you never saw it written on a wall anywhere?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Okay. Interesting. What was the stain on your clothes, Faith?"
"I --"
"What was the stain?"
"I don't want to tell you. Please."
"Faith, do you want to help Daria?"
"Yes."
"Then we need to know what the stain was."
"Blood! It was my mother's blood."
"The reports say that Helen Morgendorffer was killed by a single gunshot to the head."
"Could be. I don't remember back that far."
"You seem a lot calmer this time, Faith. The last time I took you this deep you were almost hysterical."
"This time you know how far you can push me back. You ain't askin' me questions I can't answer."
"I guess not. Anyway, I'm going to try Daria now. I want you to remember everything you've told me once you wake up."
Lynette brought Faith out of the trance, and talked to her. "How do you feel?"
Faith shook her head, like she was trying to clear it, and said, "There's some shit there I didn't realize I remembered. You never asked me what the book was. It was a law book. In my head I always made the assumption that my mom had picked it up as a hidin' place 'cause she figured no one would look in it. But that ain't the case. It was in a row of other law books. Was Helen Morgendorffer a lawyer?"
"Yes."
"Now I can see the room more clear in my head. But I can still remember the way I think it was, you know? I got two different memories of that time now. It's gonna take a while to sort 'em out." After a second, Faith said, "At least you've figured something out about why Daria became me."
"I have?" Lynette had a theory, at least part of one, but she wanted to see if Faith came to the same conclusions.
"Yeah, doc. When you had me under I said something about all that education not having done Daria any good. Might be why I'm kinda like I am -- why I stopped tryin' to learn things except off the street, until recently. Learning didn't save the Morgendorffers."
Just when Lynette thought she'd seen how smart Faith could be, the girl kept finding new ways to surprise her. That was not only along the lines of what she was thinking, it was more clearly reasoned out, if not as well articulated.
Off-handedly, Lynette wondered about something. She asked faith, "Has anyone ever given you an IQ test?"
"My guardian did," Faith said. "Boring as hell. I think my results were somewhere in the 130s. 'course, I blew off the last five questions or so."
And Lynette was willing to bet that had Faith concentrated she'd've registered as a genius. Faith played down her intelligence -- or had until recently -- but that was something else she and Daria had in common. Faith just applied her intelligence to more practical things. "Interesting," she said. "Anyway, are you ready for me to bring Daria back?"
"Your call, doc," Faith said.
"Jake, Helen, Qui--"
X X X X X
Buffy looked at Giles, Xander, Willow, Tara, Anya, and Dawn. "Dawn," she began. "Remember that phone call I got from Angel a couple of days ago?"
"Yeah. I was wondering what that was all about," Dawn said. Buffy'd held back only because of the difficulty of getting everyone in one place at one time.
"Does he need our help?" Xander asked. "'cause the big bad soul man begging us for assistance -- I'd kind of like to hear about that."
Buffy shook her head. "No. He called to tell me some interesting news about Faith." She held up a hand to hold back the obvious next question. "No, she hasn't escaped. But it turns out she's not exactly who we thought she was . . ."
X X X X X
When Amy Barksdale's plane landed at LAX, she grabbed her carry-on and practically shoved her way through the mass of people ahead of her on her flight from New York. This was atypical, for her; she wasn't a very emotional person. But these were unusual circumstances.
When she'd gotten the call Thursday evening from a woman calling herself Maggie Silber, she'd been skeptical at first.
It had taken a while, but the woman had convinced her: Daria was alive.
She hadn't seen her niece in over ten years before her disappearance -- or any of the rest of her family, either. Bringing too many Barksdales together in one location had been a recipe for guaranteed screaming matches -- which is why for over a decade the only communication she'd had with either sister or their families had been via phone call and letter. She'd fallen so far out of contact that, when Daria had vanished, she'd thought her niece was on the verge of college.
That had all changed after April 10, 1997.
Her mother had been in frail health anyway; the news of Helen and Quinn's deaths and Daria's disappearance had killed her.
Somehow, in the midst of all the tragedy, she and Rita had --- well, not exactly bonded, but in the intervening four years they'd gotten together a few times, and when Amy had gone to Rita's daughter Erin's wedding, they'd been friendly and even somewhat loving towards each other. And there's been no arguing at all -- not about their inheritance, not about family history, not even about that troll Brian that Erin was marrying. The sense of tragedy looming over everything kind of took the wind out of the sails of their petty disputes.
While Amy had done her best to stay out of the arguments that had been a perennial feature of the Rita-Helen relationship, she'd gotten dragged in more often than she would have liked.
It was a classic good-news/bad-news situation when Mrs. Silber had called. Good news: Daria's alive. Bad news: She's in jail for murder and has been suffering from multiple personality disorder for the last four years.
As a freelance magazine writer, it was easier for Amy to get away than Rita, who had more arrangements to make and more people to talk to. The money she'd inherited from her mother gave Amy the freedom to do the assignments she wanted to do -- and she'd do almost anything if it was interesting enough. She'd written two books. She'd do celebrity interviews, political stories, travelogues, science, nature -- anything except true crime.
Odd, since the book that had made her reputation had been the story of Willard Jay Harbaugh, Helen's family's murder and Daria's disappearance, and the consequences. But that book had been a purging, and she saw no need to intrude on other people's misery when she still had quite enough of her own.
All she'd brought with her was the carryon, so, armed with Maggie Silber's address, she went to the taxi stand, took the first cab, and told the driver where to go. 45 minutes and $27 later, she was in front of the woman's office. It was a Saturday, but Mrs. Silber was in her office anyway.
She smiled faintly when she walked in the room and nodded her head to the office's only occupant. "Maggie Silber?"
"Ms. Barksdale?"
"Call me Amy. Now. You got me to fly all the way out here; can I see this proof you say you have that my niece is still alive?"
"Maggie. I also got this photograph from the District Attorney working on the case, who's actually being somewhat cooperative," Maggie said, handing Amy a black-and-white photo . . .
A mug shot. "I also have dental records," Maggie was saying, but Amy wasn't really paying attention.
She didn't have her glasses and she looked like she hadn't slept in a week, but it was Daria. Only the mugshot referred to her as . . . "Faith Lehane?"
"The name of Daria's split personality. From what I've been able to gather, Daria's been identifying herself as Faith ever since April 10, 1997."
Giving back the mug shot, Amy said, "And the two murders?"
Maggie sighed. "Indisputable. 'Faith' confessed and had details of the crimes only the police would have known otherwise." Faith. The word sounded familiar, for some reason --
Of course. Holy shit. Willard Jay Harbaugh had wanted to throw the police off, so he'd pretended to be a serial killer, not simply a home invader. He wrote words in his victims' blood on the wall after every killing. (Thank God, the police and the jury hadn't bought his act. Perversely, it had been his reaction to being accused of Daria's kidnapping that had done it. He'd been genuinely startled and for a minute or two had responded rationally. Harbaugh was currently on death row in Texas. Amy wasn't in favor of the death penalty. In Harbaugh's case, she made an exception.)
He'd written two words on Helen and Jake's living room wall in Highland: "HAVE FAITH." He'd left similar messages in the homes of every one of his victims.
That couldn't be a coincidence.
That might help Daria later, but it wasn't particularly useful at the moment. "Did she have any legal representation when she confessed?" Amy asked.
"She waived it. Of course, she was 17 at the time, or so everyone thought, and I'll bring that up if I have to -- but I'm holding off on it for the moment, because the DA's office, so far, seems to be being somewhat cooperative."
"And this 'Faith," Amy asked. "A genuine dissociated identity?"
Maggie nodded. "As near as I can tell. Of course, I've only ever met the Faith persona. So far, only Dr. Vaughn can trigger the change in personality."
"Do you trust Dr. Vaughn?"
"She usually works for the state," Maggie said. "But she's been championing this being a genuine case of DID all along. That she actually agrees with us is a big point in our favor."
"I'd like to see her," Amy said.
"I knew you would. These aren't normal visiting hours. But I've prevailed upon Warden Juarez to let you come with me -- normal visiting hours don't apply to me, as her attorney. But you're going to be thoroughly searched."
"Then I'd better make sure to divest myself of the butterfly knife and AK-47."
"You do that," Maggie said, clearly unsure whether Amy was joking.
Amy smiled a Mona Lisa smile.