Disclaimer: The Daria characters belong to Glenn Eichler. The Buffy and Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon. The original characters and the plot belong to me.
X X X X X
"It might not be a good idea to do that," Buffy said.
"Why?" Daria asked.
"Because you have no idea what would happen. It'd be like tossing an unknown liquid onto a fire to see whether it was water or gasoline."
"And your solution is for me to beat it out of Dr. Vaughn?"
"If you have to."
"Sorry, Dr. Vaughn," Daria said, "I know I've just broken two of your fingers and bruised a kidney, but I completely trust you not to take any sort of revenge while you have me under hypnosis."
"Good point," Buffy conceded. "And magic?"
"I've barely been able to bring myself to accept, on -- faith -- that vampires and werewolves and things like that exist. I'm not quite ready to concede magic spells."
"It's a logical progression," Buffy said.
"No, it's not," Daria said. "I can accept that giant squids exist without conceding the Loch Ness monster. I can accept that something funky went down with the Kennedy assassination without believing that Clay Shaw had anything to do with it. And I can accept the existence of vampires without conceding that people can twitch their noses and make magic happen. Anyway, right now it doesn't matter. Even if I bought the idea, I wouldn't rely on it. Once again, it's been conclusively proven that there's no one I can rely on except me. Therefore, if I want this fixed, I'm going to have to do it myself."
And before Buffy could get out more than, "Wait, there's --" Daria pinched herself and woke up.
X X X X X
By the lack of natural light coming in through the small cell window, Daria figured out that she'd woken herself up earlier than she should have.
Still, she'd gotten tired of listening to Buffy's echo complain about her ideas, Faith, and pretty much everything else.
If that was anything like the real Buffy Summers, Daria was fairly sure she'd hate the woman on sight. Still, Faith's feelings for Buffy had changed from hatred to a fierce admiration, so the woman must have something going for her besides combat skills.
Of course, she had no idea exactly what time of night it was. it wasn't like there were any clocks lying around, and while Daria could guess the approximate time of night if she was able to see the moon, the approximately 1/2 degree of arc of the night sky visible through her tiny window did not in fact happen to have the moon visible. Or even enough stars to figure out constellations.
She got out of bed, and, praying no guards would wander by, swiftly used the toilet.
April 10, 1997 was sitting on the floor where she'd left it.
If she lay down on the bed with her head toward the cell door, there was just enough light coming in through it that she'd be able to read it.
So, was she ready for this?
The answer was no, and would probably be no even after she'd read it.
But if she wanted to bring Faith back on her own terms, she had to try.
Quietly, Daria picked up the book and flipped through to the chapter titled "The Night of April 10."
It struck her that this was, in fact, the morning of April 10.
Four years ago on this day Faith Lehane had been born.
Today she would be born again.
X X X X X
Amy Barksdale had had a lousy night's sleep. Part of her was glad she'd get Daria out soon; part of her was guilty at the machinations she'd used to get Daria out of jail; part of her felt even worse that Dr. Vaughn had taken the hit for her; and part of her was simply trying to figure out what to do next.
Take all of that, add in a sister whose conscience isn't disturbed by any of it, and stir well, and what you have is a recipe for tossing and turning all night.
About 6:30 AM, Amy gave up on trying to sleep -- maybe having snatched two hours here and there -- called room service, and went in to take a nice long shower. Her conscience wasn't any clearer when she got out, but at least she felt more awake.
The pot of coffee coming up on the room service tray should do even more to help that. There were no cheese fries available at breakfast, so she settled for hash browns and a cheese omelet.
While she ate and drank, she thought, putting the complimentary LA Times to the side until she was done.
She hadn't quite been able to bring herself to tell Daria the truth yesterday; that she'd been ready to get rid of Faith herself. Daria wasn't stupid, though, and no doubt by now she'd figured out on her own that Amy would have done that if she'd had to.
Amy could beat herself up for that in her own good time, and no doubt over the next several years she would. At the moment, though, what to do next was the most important thing.
Rita had been all for simply tossing Daria into a mental institution until they could be good and sure that Faith was gone. Rita wasn't being heartless, by her standards; she wanted Daria back and free as much as Amy did. But her methods were decidedly more brutal.
Fortunately for Daria, Rita wasn't the one who was acting as guardian ad litem.
And Amy was fine with letting Daria stay in jail until other psychiatrists could verify Faith's absence -- check that. She wasn't fine with it, but it still beat the alternative, which was a long, depressing stay in a mental institution. One of the articles she'd written had been about the abuses that took place at such institutions -- the ones specifically designed for higher-income people, people whose relatives might be conditioned to expect a higher standard of care. Not that they were all abusive; some were still staffed with people who wanted to help their patients, and some were "mental hospitals" in name only, designed specifically for celebrities who needed some "quiet time" to live down their latest scandal.
Amy didn't have the income to put Daria in one of those -- she was well off, not rich -- and in any event she was fairly sure the DA's office wouldn't stand for that.
As Daria's official guardian, she could visit her in jail at any time. After she talked to Rita this morning, she planned to go over and explain the current situation to her in a bit more depth. With any luck, Daria would have calmed down from the events of yesterday --
And if she hadn't, Amy needed to explain things anyway.
After finishing her second cup of coffee, Amy put the breakfast tray aside and opened the paper.
The headline she'd feared was below the fold, but it was still a page one story: "Missing Girl Found in LA County Jail."
Shit, meet fan.
X X X X X
Angel had gotten a couple of phone calls the previous day. The first one had been from Dr. Vaughn, explaining exactly what she'd done to Daria/Faith. That had left him stunned. So stunned he'd barely had the presence of mind to pick up the phone when it rang again five minutes later.
"Angel Investigations."
"Mr. Angel?"
"Just Angel," he'd said. "How can I help you?"
"You gave me this business card earlier today. Kal Endicott? LA Times? You told me to call you if I had any questions about the Faith Lehane situation?"
"That's right. I take it that Ms. Fisk and Amy Barksdale were less than cooperative?"
"Total time of them talking to me, under a minute. I guess I should be lucky they didn't tell me to go to hell, seeing what the story is. You got time to talk?"
"Sure," Angel had said. "What do you need to know?"
And for the next half hour or so, Angel had given Mr. Endicott the story of Faith, sans vampires. He'd made clear to the man that he was not a neutral source; that he was biased on Faith's behalf.
"Which means that, unlike the DA's office, you don't want to see her personality removed."
"That's right."
"Even though," the young reporter had said, "That personality is responsible for two murders?"
"She turned herself in," Angel had said. "She confessed to those crimes in open court, and she didn't even try to get a sentence reduction. As far as I know, the only concession she asked for was a jail cell all to herself. She may have come to it a bit late, but she knows what she did was wrong and she's trying to make up for it."
"But isn't keeping her around unfair to Ms. Morgendorffer?"
"You'd have to ask Ms. Morgendorffer her opinion on that. For what it's worth, I think Ms. Morgendorffer is the biggest victim in all of this."
"Bigger than the two people Faith Lehane killed?"
"As big, at least," Angel had amended. "You have to remember: For almost four years Daria Morgendorffer was effectively dead."
They'd talked for a bit longer and Angel reiterated everything he'd said. Eventually, the conversation had ended, and Angel was fairly sure he'd made the best case for Faith he could.
The next morning, he called Cordelia and asked her if she could bring in a copy of that morning's LA Times.
"So, I'm your servant now?" Cordelia griped, apparently on autopilot.
"Well, I'd get it myself, but the catching on fire would probably impede my ability to put the quarters into the newspaper box."
Cordelia said, "Good point," and brought it in.
When she got to the Hyperion, she said, "Did you know there was a story about Faith in here?"
"That's why I asked you to bring in the paper," Angel said. "What did it say?"
"Missing Girl Found in LA County Jail."
"What about the story itself?"
"It seemed fairly neutral to me," Cordelia said. "Didn't mention that Faith was a multiple murderer until the fourth paragraph." She stopped. "Which is about a paragraph later than I would have put it."
Angel grabbed the paper, saying, "I appreciate the journalistic critique, Lois, but I'm more interested in seeing whether all hell is about to break loose."
"Oh, I'd say so," Cordelia said. "They were already talking about it on the radio this morning."
"What was the tone of the discussion?"
"No tone. More amazement than anything else. Apparently this Vaughn woman -- Faith's shrink -- has a reputation for being hard on prisoners, so that she's backing Faith's story seems to be making them think about it."
"That's good," Angel said. "I was afraid the initial reaction was going to be all about how the DA's office was about to let a murderer out of jail."
"Whether it's an angry mob of victim's rights advocates or reporters desperately interested in a story," Cordelia said, "I'd say hell is pretty much guaranteed. And honestly? Having seen a group of desperate reporters at work? I think I'd rather face actual hell. And this comes from someone who's faced actual hell."
"I wonder if Daria would appreciate our support," Angel mused.
"And why the hell are you calling her Daria instead of Faith?"
"Right. I didn't fill you in on that part, did I?"
X X X X X
Bonita Juarez saw the Times article on Faith Lehane and made a point of instructing the security guards: no reporters were to get inside the building. They weren't to be buzzed through to her office, they weren't to talk to Lehane in the visitors' room, and they weren't to get any information from the guards themselves. And if one of them was clever or desperate enough to get herself thrown in jail to get the interview, more power to her, and they'd take away all her notes when she got released.
Then she called her husband and told him to keep an eye out when he got home on the off chance any reporters decided to stalk her there. She was a bit player in all of this, but this had the potential to a big enough story that reporters would probably be tracking down anyone even remotely connected to the situation.
After she hung up, she got to work on the routine business of the day and busied herself with it for about an hour.
Then she got an anxious call from one of the guards. "Boss?" she said.
"Yeah, Josie?"
"I'm in front of Lehane's cell. You'd better call that psych doctor."
"Why?"
"Because she's down here ranting. We couldn't even get her to come out for breakfast."
Bonita's guards were well-trained and professional, and while they didn't abuse inmates -- any guard who did quickly found him or herself out on their ass -- they didn't take crap from them either. For one of them to say that they 'couldn't get' an inmate to come out of their cell meant that they were either afraid for their safety or deeply worried about the inmate.
"What's she saying?"
"She's saying, 'Goddammit, why didn't it work? Why am I still her?' Then she repeats herself and punches the wall."
"And that's enough to keep you out of the cell?"
"The wall has cracks in it."
"I'll be right down." Bonita wasn't a psychiatrist, psychologist, or any kind of counselor. But she'd just been thrust back into the middle of the Faith Lehane situation, because she was the only person who might be able to stop Lehane from ruining her chances of getting out of prison.
She left a message on Dr. Vaughn's machine and ran out the door.