--Jane--
Michael kissed her deeply, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his caress warm and tender. Jane sighed blissfully. He chuckled, and she pulled back.
"What?" she asked playfully, tugging on a lock of his hair. He regarded her fondly.
"Jane, Jane, my not-so-plain Jane."
Jane smiled. She loved him and his light-hearted teasing. She was leaning in for another kiss when she noticed the time. She pulled back again.
"Oh, crap. I'm late. Daria's gonna kill me!"
Michael whined, half-heartedly tugging on her. "Stay...please..."
"I can't." Jane separated herself from him and then leaned down and kissed him briefly on the lips. "I'll see you later," she whispered huskily. He grinned and watched her disappear out his door and into her car.
Jane hummed to herself as she drove home, occasionally breaking out into song at the top of her lungs. Life was good. Better than good. Michael was wonderful. He loved her and only her. She could already see them getting married. And to top things off, Daria seemed to approve of him-- without any interest in him romantically.
Jane climbed out of her car and practically skipped up the walk to the front door. She opened the door and started to call out when a low sound caught her attention. She listened for a moment and then made a face, disgusted. Trent had a girl over, and they were going at it on the couch. 'Ick! Note to self: NEVER sit on the couch again.' Jane shuddered and started to head up the stairs.
"Oh, Trent..."
Jane froze. She knew that voice. She spun to see Daria's head appear over the back of the couch. Daria didn't see her, focused instead on Trent. Daria's head disappeared. Jane continued to stand there, her mouth hanging open dumbly.
"It's about time Jane got the fuck out of the house," Trent grumbled. Jane's mouth snapped shut at the harshness of his words and tone. Her mind reeled with the implications of that sentence.
"I thought she'd never get out of here," Daria agreed.
Jane growled low in her throat and reached out to smack on the lights. Daria and Trent reared up off the couch. Neither one seemed particularly surprised or shocked to see her. Jane trembled in anger as Daria languidly pulled Trent's shirt over her head. Trent watched her hungrily before slipping on his boxers.
"What. Did. You. Mean. By. That," she ground out. Trent turned his attention from Daria to Jane.
"Mean by what?" he asked.
"That it was time I got out of the house!" she shrieked.
"Oh. That. Well, it is. I mean, Christ, Janey, I had to put up with you when you were an annoying little brat that couldn't wipe her own ass. Then I had to put up with you and your 'the world sucks' attitude. A guy needs his space. I've been waiting for you to move out since you were born."
"Exactly," Daria agreed again. "And now, since you're gone, I can move in." She laughed gleefully. "And I don't have to pretend I'm your friend anymore."
Jane jerked backwards. Her mind felt numb. "What?"
Trent rolled his eyes and addressed Daria. "Dumb fuck, isn't she?"
Daria smiled at him. "Sure is. I don't know how you put up with her for nineteen years. I could hardly manage four!"
Jane stared at them, trembling, unable to get things straight in her head. Daria and Trent were her closest friends. They couldn't mean what they were saying. This had to be a bad dream. That was it. A bad dream. Nothing more. Jane pinched herself. Nothing happened. She looked up to see that Trent and Daria were kissing each other again, already deeply lost in their own desires. Her mouth fell open. It was real. It was fucking real.
Hot anger mixed with stifling pain shot through her chest and out through her veins. Oh, no fucking way were they going to get away with pulling this shit on her. She lunged for them both, but the world blackened around her.
She woke, trembling, on the floor of the basement. She was stripped naked and a heavy metal ring encircled her neck.
"Damn, that's pitiful."
Jane jerked upright. Tears streamed down her face. "Daddy! Thank God you're here. They locked me up and they kept mocking me and Trent let his friends--" She broke down in sobs. Her father rolled his eyes.
"Christ, Trent. How do you keep her quiet?"
"We usually shove someone's cock in her mouth."
Jane huddled in her corner, trying to keep the memories away. She moaned quietly to herself again and again.
Then, a quiet, little voice spoke in her ear, a familiar voice, Daria's voice.
"That's right, Lane. Cry. Cry all you want. Your tears are your only friends. You're all alone. All alone, now and forever."
Jane's eyes snapped open.
She sat up and stared into the darkness of her room, breathing heavily. She slid from her bed and stumbled toward her light switch, tripping over something in the darkness.
"Ow!"
Jane fell against her wall heavily, managing to flip the light on before she slid to the floor. She sat against the door, staring at Daria as she sat up and rubbed her shoulder.
"Jane?"
Jane didn't respond. She just sat there panting, trying to separate reality from dream. She watched as concern lined Daria's features and, when she spoke, her voice.
"Are you all right, Jane?"
"Nightmare," Jane said shortly. She watched as compassion flitted across Daria's face, along with a small amount of restrained fear. Jane frowned, leaning forward slightly, knowing Daria couldn't see her clearly enough to make out her facial expressions without glasses. She realized that Daria had stopped rubbing her shoulder and was now hugging herself, the action completely unconscious. Jane let out a breath and leaned back against her door.
"It helps," she said cautiously, "to have company."
Daria's relief was almost palpable. Her arms dropped to her sides, her hands resting in her lap. She smiled slightly at Jane and gave a small nod to show she agreed and understood. Jane stood up and flicked off the light.
"Night, Daria."
"Night, Jane," Daria mumbled. Jane smiled into the darkness and got back into bed, careful to not step on Daria this time. She lay on her bed, easily drifting back to sleep. Part of her wondered if Daria had caught the second meaning to her words. Another part knew she had. They were different, very different, but deep down, they were more alike then either one realized.
~~~~~~~~~~
A note on the crudeness of Jane's dream.
At their basest levels, Daria and Jane share the same fear, being alone. The difference in how this fear is portrayed comes in the differences between them. Daria views the world both intellectually and emotionally. She is not a physical person. In the five seasons of the show, Tom is the only person she has physical contact with (that isn't hitting). Because of this it is going to be an emotional and intellectual separation from that person or persons. The who is easy. Jane is the only person she has an emotional attachment to. That's not to say she doesn't love other people; she does: her family, Tom, and Trent, first romantically and the platonically. Jane however is the only one she exposed herself to as well as fought to keep from losing. The how is also easy. What is the most permanent loss a person can go through? Death.
Unlike Daria, Jane is a very physical person, mostly when it comes to the opposite sex. She has no problem sneaking off to the laundry room with a boy at a party. She understands and appreciates the physical part of life. Instead of being intellectually and emotionally geared to the world, she sees things emotionally and physically. Her dream, of course, would portray that orientation, a fact we see in her interaction with Michael. We see the world as it would be best for her, a boyfriend and Daria accepting it. Her fear of being alone is portrayed through Daria and Trent, the ones to whom she is the closest, admitting, rather gleefully, that they've been putting up with Jane until they could be rid of her. Not only do they inform her of this, destroying two valuable relationships, but they are involved in an intimate physical action, sex, when she first discovers it. In the first part of the dream, she's emotionally stripped of the intimacies of her relationships. Then, in the second part, she's stripped of physical intimacies. Not only has the intimate part of physical affection been taken away by her being violated, it has been taken away by people she cares for: Trent, the band (Trent's friends in the story; saying 'the band' would denote a closeness to them which she wouldn't have after being raped by them.), and, by implication, her father, who in this fic serves as representation for her entire family since fathers are the traditional heads of the family. The final blow is from Daria herself, telling Jane that she's always alone now.
Michael kissed her deeply, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his caress warm and tender. Jane sighed blissfully. He chuckled, and she pulled back.
"What?" she asked playfully, tugging on a lock of his hair. He regarded her fondly.
"Jane, Jane, my not-so-plain Jane."
Jane smiled. She loved him and his light-hearted teasing. She was leaning in for another kiss when she noticed the time. She pulled back again.
"Oh, crap. I'm late. Daria's gonna kill me!"
Michael whined, half-heartedly tugging on her. "Stay...please..."
"I can't." Jane separated herself from him and then leaned down and kissed him briefly on the lips. "I'll see you later," she whispered huskily. He grinned and watched her disappear out his door and into her car.
Jane hummed to herself as she drove home, occasionally breaking out into song at the top of her lungs. Life was good. Better than good. Michael was wonderful. He loved her and only her. She could already see them getting married. And to top things off, Daria seemed to approve of him-- without any interest in him romantically.
Jane climbed out of her car and practically skipped up the walk to the front door. She opened the door and started to call out when a low sound caught her attention. She listened for a moment and then made a face, disgusted. Trent had a girl over, and they were going at it on the couch. 'Ick! Note to self: NEVER sit on the couch again.' Jane shuddered and started to head up the stairs.
"Oh, Trent..."
Jane froze. She knew that voice. She spun to see Daria's head appear over the back of the couch. Daria didn't see her, focused instead on Trent. Daria's head disappeared. Jane continued to stand there, her mouth hanging open dumbly.
"It's about time Jane got the fuck out of the house," Trent grumbled. Jane's mouth snapped shut at the harshness of his words and tone. Her mind reeled with the implications of that sentence.
"I thought she'd never get out of here," Daria agreed.
Jane growled low in her throat and reached out to smack on the lights. Daria and Trent reared up off the couch. Neither one seemed particularly surprised or shocked to see her. Jane trembled in anger as Daria languidly pulled Trent's shirt over her head. Trent watched her hungrily before slipping on his boxers.
"What. Did. You. Mean. By. That," she ground out. Trent turned his attention from Daria to Jane.
"Mean by what?" he asked.
"That it was time I got out of the house!" she shrieked.
"Oh. That. Well, it is. I mean, Christ, Janey, I had to put up with you when you were an annoying little brat that couldn't wipe her own ass. Then I had to put up with you and your 'the world sucks' attitude. A guy needs his space. I've been waiting for you to move out since you were born."
"Exactly," Daria agreed again. "And now, since you're gone, I can move in." She laughed gleefully. "And I don't have to pretend I'm your friend anymore."
Jane jerked backwards. Her mind felt numb. "What?"
Trent rolled his eyes and addressed Daria. "Dumb fuck, isn't she?"
Daria smiled at him. "Sure is. I don't know how you put up with her for nineteen years. I could hardly manage four!"
Jane stared at them, trembling, unable to get things straight in her head. Daria and Trent were her closest friends. They couldn't mean what they were saying. This had to be a bad dream. That was it. A bad dream. Nothing more. Jane pinched herself. Nothing happened. She looked up to see that Trent and Daria were kissing each other again, already deeply lost in their own desires. Her mouth fell open. It was real. It was fucking real.
Hot anger mixed with stifling pain shot through her chest and out through her veins. Oh, no fucking way were they going to get away with pulling this shit on her. She lunged for them both, but the world blackened around her.
She woke, trembling, on the floor of the basement. She was stripped naked and a heavy metal ring encircled her neck.
"Damn, that's pitiful."
Jane jerked upright. Tears streamed down her face. "Daddy! Thank God you're here. They locked me up and they kept mocking me and Trent let his friends--" She broke down in sobs. Her father rolled his eyes.
"Christ, Trent. How do you keep her quiet?"
"We usually shove someone's cock in her mouth."
Jane huddled in her corner, trying to keep the memories away. She moaned quietly to herself again and again.
Then, a quiet, little voice spoke in her ear, a familiar voice, Daria's voice.
"That's right, Lane. Cry. Cry all you want. Your tears are your only friends. You're all alone. All alone, now and forever."
Jane's eyes snapped open.
She sat up and stared into the darkness of her room, breathing heavily. She slid from her bed and stumbled toward her light switch, tripping over something in the darkness.
"Ow!"
Jane fell against her wall heavily, managing to flip the light on before she slid to the floor. She sat against the door, staring at Daria as she sat up and rubbed her shoulder.
"Jane?"
Jane didn't respond. She just sat there panting, trying to separate reality from dream. She watched as concern lined Daria's features and, when she spoke, her voice.
"Are you all right, Jane?"
"Nightmare," Jane said shortly. She watched as compassion flitted across Daria's face, along with a small amount of restrained fear. Jane frowned, leaning forward slightly, knowing Daria couldn't see her clearly enough to make out her facial expressions without glasses. She realized that Daria had stopped rubbing her shoulder and was now hugging herself, the action completely unconscious. Jane let out a breath and leaned back against her door.
"It helps," she said cautiously, "to have company."
Daria's relief was almost palpable. Her arms dropped to her sides, her hands resting in her lap. She smiled slightly at Jane and gave a small nod to show she agreed and understood. Jane stood up and flicked off the light.
"Night, Daria."
"Night, Jane," Daria mumbled. Jane smiled into the darkness and got back into bed, careful to not step on Daria this time. She lay on her bed, easily drifting back to sleep. Part of her wondered if Daria had caught the second meaning to her words. Another part knew she had. They were different, very different, but deep down, they were more alike then either one realized.
~~~~~~~~~~
A note on the crudeness of Jane's dream.
At their basest levels, Daria and Jane share the same fear, being alone. The difference in how this fear is portrayed comes in the differences between them. Daria views the world both intellectually and emotionally. She is not a physical person. In the five seasons of the show, Tom is the only person she has physical contact with (that isn't hitting). Because of this it is going to be an emotional and intellectual separation from that person or persons. The who is easy. Jane is the only person she has an emotional attachment to. That's not to say she doesn't love other people; she does: her family, Tom, and Trent, first romantically and the platonically. Jane however is the only one she exposed herself to as well as fought to keep from losing. The how is also easy. What is the most permanent loss a person can go through? Death.
Unlike Daria, Jane is a very physical person, mostly when it comes to the opposite sex. She has no problem sneaking off to the laundry room with a boy at a party. She understands and appreciates the physical part of life. Instead of being intellectually and emotionally geared to the world, she sees things emotionally and physically. Her dream, of course, would portray that orientation, a fact we see in her interaction with Michael. We see the world as it would be best for her, a boyfriend and Daria accepting it. Her fear of being alone is portrayed through Daria and Trent, the ones to whom she is the closest, admitting, rather gleefully, that they've been putting up with Jane until they could be rid of her. Not only do they inform her of this, destroying two valuable relationships, but they are involved in an intimate physical action, sex, when she first discovers it. In the first part of the dream, she's emotionally stripped of the intimacies of her relationships. Then, in the second part, she's stripped of physical intimacies. Not only has the intimate part of physical affection been taken away by her being violated, it has been taken away by people she cares for: Trent, the band (Trent's friends in the story; saying 'the band' would denote a closeness to them which she wouldn't have after being raped by them.), and, by implication, her father, who in this fic serves as representation for her entire family since fathers are the traditional heads of the family. The final blow is from Daria herself, telling Jane that she's always alone now.