"Daria" is owned and copyrighted by MTV. All rights reserved.  This is 
*not* an episode, but the best imitation of an episode that I could 
write.  Thanks to the creators of "Daria" for providing so much rich 
material for fanfics....

This is [or should be] the twentieth episode of The Driven Wild Universe.  
It follows 1) "Rose-Colored Lenses," 2) "The Tie That Chokes," 3) "That 
Thing You Say," 4) "'Shipped Out," 5) "Andrea Speaks!", 6) "Cheered Down," 
7) "None in the Family, Part One, "8) "None in the Family, Part Two," 9) 
"Outvoted," 10) "Of Absolute Value," 11) "Breaking the Mold," 12) 
"Surreal World," 13) "Erin the Head," 14) "Primarily Color," 15) "The 
Age of Cynicism," 16) "Charge of the Math Brigade," 17) "An Uneasy Marriage," 
18) "In Her Own Words," and 19) "All But Forgotten." 

This fic is, like, a 5S, I think.  It's the longest yet.  Sit and 
read it all at once, and yer bum will grow numb.  Heh.

A note on the title: As many of you know, the original title for this 
fic was "Memory Lane."  I still think it sounds better, but I and several 
of my beta-readers worried that it implied a Lane family connection that 
didn't exist.  Thus, I changed it to "Memory *Road*," after this bit of 
dialogue between Daria and Quinn in "Boxing Daria":

DARIA:  Do you remember us having one of these when we were kids? 

QUINN:  Daria, I'm doing manual labor here? I'm not in the mood for a 
stroll down memory road.

I thought the connection was neat.  Both the episode and the fanfic 
involve flashbacking and family troubles.  Both also are deeper and 
more emotional than the ones that preceded it.  Runners up for the 
title included "Evasion Maneuvers" and "Blameless."  You'll see why.


Before we launch into it, I want to apologize if it seemed like I 
was teasing you about when this second half would be released.  Trust 
me, it was out of eagerness that I kept saying "It'll be ready soon!  
Soon, soon, soon!"  Thank you for your patience.  And enjoy!!!!!!!!!!


(Black screen.  Suddenly two circles, encasing two eyes, appear.)

DARIA: (VO)  Oh joy, another recap.  Is it just me, or do these get
longer each time I watch television?  Just another reminder to trade
mine in for that stainless steel knife collection.  (Bt)  After "Sick 
Sad World" goes off the air, of course.

(Pause)

DARIA: (sighing)  Previously on "Daria"...

... Quinn learns she has a major vision problem and needs
glasses.
... Quinn's glasses conspire with her math teacher to turn
her into a completely unfashionable math geek.
... Mom discovers she has a knack for sculpting.
... Dad discovers he has a knack for tutoring Quinn, just as I
learn I have a knack for torturing Quinn.
... And just when I'd stopped worrying about dying alone, 
Aunt Amy sends over pictures of her peachy keen life with 
her boyfriend.
... The ensuing raging envy I feel leads me to set up Trent Lane 
with my cousin Erin.  &%#$@^%?!!
... And later I moan about my depressing life to people even more 
pathetic than me on an underground newspaper. 

(Pause)

DARIA:  Oh, wait... you want a recap of the previous *episode*.  
Why didn't you say so?  (Bt)  Previously on "Daria"...

[Shot of Helen and her boss in Helen's office.]

ERIC:  Helen.  (meaningful look.)  You need rest.  So you don't end up 
getting a much longer rest.

(Helen catches his meaning, swallows hard.)

[Shot of Amy and Joel with Helen, in their living room.]

AMY: (sleepy) It's not your *habit* to drop in on people after midnight, 
is it?

[Later shot of Amy coming over to Helen on the couch.]

AMY:  Hel--

(Helen reaches forward and grabs her sister around the waste.  Pressing her 
face against Amy's side, she starts shivering and crying noiselessly.  Amy 
looks down at her, stunned.  Then she leans down awkwardly and lays her 
arms around her.)

[Shot of Amy and Joel in bed.]

JOEL:  She came to *you* with her problems, didn't she?

AMY:  Which brings us to the great mystery.  Why *me*?  

[Shot of Daria and Quinn in the kitchen, watching Jake leave.]

QUINN:  He didn't even *ask* where Mom was.  It's like he doesn't even *care*.

DARIA: (more calm, but still alarmed)  Now, now.  Let's not jump to any 
conclusions.

[Shot of Jane, Daria, and Quinn in the Pizza King]

JANE:  So what would be the harm in following him?

[Driving shot of them arriving at the park.]

[Shots of Daria, Jane, and Quinn watching Jake play ball.]

(In preparation, Jake beats his bat against the ground -- one time so 
hard, it sends pain shocks through his hands and causes him to drop 
the bat.  He yelps with pain.  Daria cocks a brow: "Typical Dad."  
Just then DeMartino bounds out of the dug-out, claps Jake on the 
back.)

VOICES ALL AROUND:  Yeahhhh Prof!  Whoo-hoo!

JAKE: (warm gratitude)  Thanks, Tony!  This one's gonna be for you.

[Later shot of Daria talking to Jane, angry.  Shot of Quinn watching 
from afar, wearing a left-out expression.]

DARIA: (devoid of sarcasm) They should have told us the truth, Jane.  
What they're up to could have major impact on our family, yet they're 
too selfish to let me and Quinn come to terms with it.  

[Shot Helen and Amy by Amy's car.]

HELEN:  It was you.  I kept wondering what my main reason for visiting 
was, and now I know: you're the cause of my problems.  You *started* 
everything. 

AMY: (winces at her angry tone)  You're not just looking for a convenient 
villain?

[Flashback shot of Helen and Greg kissing from "An Uneasy Marriage."]

[Shot Helen and Amy in the car, evening.]

AMY:  I don't think you can put things back the way they were, and I 
don't think *you* think so, either.  (more gentle.)  And in spite of 
the pain and confusion you're feeling, do you really believe it'd be 
better to go back?

HELEN:  It's selfish of me to even *think* I could walk out on my sweet 
Jakey and turn my girls' lives upside down because of some fleeting 
moment of satisfaction.  

[Significant look from Amy.] 

[Shot of Amy, with that same look, and Joel in the living room.] 

AMY: (softly)  I just need more time with her. 

[Shot of Amy and Daria on the phone.]

AMY:  Please Daria, if there's any time you should trust me, it's now.  
I want your mom to get better, too.

DARIA: (as though there's a painful knot in her throat)  All right.  I 
trust you.  

AMY:  Thanks.

DARIA:  But...

AMY:  Yeah?

DARIA:  Just... (can't get the last words out.)  

AMY: (inviting)  What?  What's on your mind?

DARIA:  Nothing.

[The phone slides from her hand.]


[intro theme music...................]

MEMORY ROAD -- by Kara Wild


ACT ONE

SCENE 1 (Amy's place, middle of the night)

(Shot of the outside of the apartment building, entirely dark
except for a thin glowing outline from the moonlight.  Cut
to shot of Amy and Joel in bed.  Amy is sound asleep, looking as
though every fiber of her being needs rest.  Joel shifts around
beside her, his eyes open.  A couple of times he turns to look
at his sleeping lover before focusing his gaze on the ceiling.)

(Cut to shot of Helen lying sideways in the guest bed with the
sheets tangled around her.  Her eyes are also open, and her mind
moves at a mile a minute.)

(Dissolve to a flashback.  Close-up of a young Helen, around ten
years old.  Her hair is a couple of shades lighter, and in contrast 
to the breezy confidence she shows as an adult, she looks withdrawn.  
Zoom out to show that she's sitting on a couch in the Barksdale family 
den, her legs drawn to her chest.  Several seconds pass in silence, 
until we cut to a shot of a woman peeking at her through the door.  
She turns, and we recognize her as Helen's mother, Evelyn Barksdale.  
Frowning with concern, or perhaps annoyance, she walks into the posh 
living room, where a few relative are seated.  A young Rita plays with 
her dolls on the floor.)

EVELYN:  I honestly don't know what's gotten into her.  She's
been like this for weeks.

EVELYN'S MOTHER: She's probably just nervous.  It's a big change,
after all.

RITA: (chipper) I'm not nervous.  I'm excited.

(Evelyn smiles indulgently, then tries to bend over and stroke Rita's
hair, but finds it too difficult.)

EVELYN: Yes, you are a good sister, aren't you?

EVELYN'S MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Helen and Rita's Grandma Barksdale)  It's
too bad Howard's been so busy lately.  He could talk some sense
into her.

EVELYN:  I don't think even he can help.

(Cut to shot of young Helen, sitting there silently.)

EVELYN: (VO) She barely eats and sleeps.  She cries on and off and
hates to leave the house.  And she hardly ever talks.  (stressed.)
I don't know what to do for her!  I'm in no position to deal with
this right now.

EVELYN'S MOTHER: (sympathetic)  Of course not.  You just rest, dear.

(The voices fade as we return to the present.  Helen shifts in the
guest bed, then sighs and sits up.)

HELEN: (thought VO)  I hate bad memories.  Why can't I just keep
my mind on the positive?  (frowns.)  But if I could do that, would
I be here?

(After a few more seconds, she stands and walks out of the room.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (living room)

(Shot of Helen seated on the couch, holding a framed photograph in
her hands.  In contrast to her earlier mood, she looks quietly
thoughtful.)

HELEN: (thought VO)  All right, Helen. You've cried yourself
dry.  You've run away.  Now what are you going to do?

(She looks at the photograph, as if wishing it would yield a
response.)

HELEN: (thought VO)  That sounds like something Amy would say.
You're lucky she talks to you at all, after what you accused her of.

(Helen takes a deep breath, and her eyes narrow with resolve.)

HELEN:  First thing you'll do is apologize to her in the morning.
And then, you'll go home and talk to Jake.  And if he loves you,
he'll forgive you.  Then we'll get help... and you'll refocus on
your career and get everything back on track.

(Her expression becomes more vulnerable.)

HELEN:  You won't let fear paralyze you.  You're not a child anymore.

(She presses her chin to her chest and rocks slowly back and forth,
trying to take comfort in these thoughts.  Suddenly there's a faint
creaking sound off screen.  Helen turns toward the doorway and sees
a faint shadow across the floor.)

HELEN:  Amy?

(After another beat, Joel steps into full view.)

HELEN:  Joel.

JOEL:  (tired, gruff)  Lovely middle of the night, isn't it?

HELEN: (concern)  I didn't wake you, did I?

JOEL:  Not unless you made the greasy hoagie that's churning inside 
of me.

HELEN:  But after the way I was... (chuckles, embarrassed.)  Oh, 
that's right -- I wasn't actually saying any of it out loud.

(Joel looks at her a bit strangely.  Though generally easy-going, he 
likes everything to be in its place, and can be prickly when faced 
with disorder.  Since Helen's unexpected arrival, Joel's resentment 
toward her has grown with every passing hour, and Helen can feel his
chilliness.  Even so, he is not immune to the sight of her slumped over 
on the couch, the moonlight falling against her, looking like the 
loneliest creature on earth.)

JOEL:  I'm on my way to the kitchen for some of the pink stuff.

HELEN:  I see. (smiles a bit awkwardly.)  Well I hope you feel better.

JOEL:  Thanks.  (raises a brow at the photograph.)  Hope you
and the picture have a nice time together.

HELEN:  What, this? (She looks at it, as though seeing it for the
first time.)  Oh I just picked it up off the mantle over there.  It's
nothing.  (smiles faintly.)  Actually, it's not "nothing."

(Joel walks over and sits down on an arm of the couch.)

JOEL: (glancing over, smiles)  Amy as a smoochy-poo baby.  I like 
this one.

HELEN:  I'm surprised she'd display this.  (wry.)  It's as if she's 
willing to be vulnerable.

JOEL:  She took it from one of the shelves of your mother's house, 
when we came to visit a few months back.  Also a couple of photo 
albums from when she was really young. 

HELEN:  How come?

JOEL:  Just because.  No explanation.  (looks at the picture.)  Here 
she looks like she could be five months, maybe...

HELEN:  Six months.  I took the picture.  (Joel raises a brow.)  I 
was pretty young myself, so that's why it's a little out of focus.

JOEL:  You caught her at a good time, though.  She looks so happy.

HELEN:  She was.  (smiles with the warmth of someone about to 
relive a pleasant experience.)  Every day when I came home from 
school, she would crawl toward me with a big toothless smile and a 
trail of drool down her chin.  

JOEL: (smirks)  Was she a naughty kid?

HELEN:  Not really.  Not as much as you might think.  I did the 
usual baby stuff with her: played Peek-a-boo, stole her nose, 
taught her the names of every female head of state.  I loved her 
so much.  (looks at Joel, her cheeks flushing.)  I'll confess, 
both of my girls were beautiful babies, but neither of them was 
as darling as Amy.  I don't know what it was. (looks back at the 
photo.)  Yesterday, when she invited me to stay a little longer, 
I wasn't sure I wanted to, until I saw this.

(Joel looks at the photograph again; something about it speaks to
him, as well as to Helen.  He catches Helen's eye, and Joel suddenly
finds her less of a pain in the ass.  He nods toward the door.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 3 (kitchen, a short time later)

(Joel stands in front of the refrigerator, shaking a bottle
of Pepto Bismol to see how much is left.  Helen sits at the table,
sipping tea and looking much improved.)

HELEN:  You used coasters at the *dinner table*??

JOEL:  When you don't have a mother around, you tend to overcompensate. 
In high school I was voted "most likely to shampoo your rug."

(Helen chuckles.)

JOEL:  So yes, I'm a neat freak.  Could've been much worse, though.

HELEN:  Was it hard living with just your father?

JOEL:  Not really, since I never saw him much.  He was
a department store manager, so he worked long hours.  (faces Helen.)
Still, when Dad was around, he made it count by limiting my
life to school, music, and "pre-selected community-building activities."
A lot of gangs in my neighborhood could've claimed me, but they never did.

HELEN:  Good for you. (brow crease.)  But it doesn't sound very
appealing.

JOEL:  You'd have to meet my father.  He's really a loving
guy.  Now that he's retired, he and I spend more time just hanging out.  
Amy likes him, so he must be worth something, right?

(He and Helen both chuckle at that.)

JOEL:  I think she wishes she could get to know her own father
as an adult.

(Helen's face goes solemn.  Joel remembers that he's talking
to Amy's sister, and looks at her apologetically.)

HELEN:  Oh no... (shakes her head.)  So it sounds as though you and
your father have been like Amy's family.  (smiles.)  Does that
mean you two are...

JOEL:  We are...?

HELEN:  That there won't be any more phone calls to my office?

(Joel looks at her blankly.  Then he gets an "Oh yeah!" expression,
remembering the conversation in "That Thing You Say.")

JOEL:  I thought you were going to ask if we planned to tie the knot.

HELEN:  I meant: are things all right between you two?

JOEL: (shrugs a little)  Better than they were.

HELEN:  Any thoughts of marriage?

JOEL:  I know I have... but we're still getting used to living 
together.

HELEN:  But you moved in *months* ago.  *Not* that I'm trying to 
dictate a time table, but --

JOEL: (raising a brow)  We've needed those months.  I just told
you what I'm like.  I lived alone for a long time before we started 
dating.  Whatever Amy's said --

HELEN: (too quickly)  Nothing.  Nothing at all.

JOEL:  -- isn't completely off the mark.  I'm kind of an asshole.

HELEN:  Oh Joel, no.

JOEL:  No, it's true.  I'm impatient, moody, a neat freak, I drive 
into hurricanes instead of asking for directions.  

HELEN: (amused)  You make well-ordered lists.

JOEL:  I don't share my feelings when asked, but I make others 
share theirs when they don't want to.  If that's not asshole 
behavior, I don't know what is. 

HELEN:  Or maybe you're just human.

JOEL:  You think?  Then again, Amy's not always perfect herself. 

HELEN: (faint smile)  No, she's not.

JOEL:  We're both so used to telling people who disagree with 
us to bugger off, it's hard when that person and you share a bed.  
(sees Helen's expression.)  We still have a lot to learn.  I don't 
want to deal with another divorce. 

(At "divorce," Helen's face goes pensive for a few moments.)

HELEN:  You say you've thought of marriage. (cocks brow.)  Has Amy?

JOEL:  She's made murmurings in that direction.  At some
point she'll actually speak of it at normal volume.

(Helen groans softly.)

JOEL:  I think she would, if she weren't going through a
personal crisis.  (Helen looks at him.)  Which I take 
it she never mentioned.

HELEN:  No.

JOEL:  Job dissatisfaction.  She puts a lot of herself into her 
work, more than you'd think.  But even though she makes good money, 
she no longer enjoys it.  If she ever did.  

(Joel's expression suggests months of fatigue and anxiety that 
his words barely hint at.  Helen frowns.)

JOEL:  She was going to attend this clinic that would help her explore 
other options.

HELEN:  "Was"?  Are you saying she missed it?  Why on earth 
would she do that?

(Joel looks at her.)

HELEN:  Because of me?  (closes her eyes.)  Oh Amy... she never 
once mentioned it.

JOEL:  She didn't want to leave you alone.

HELEN: (brow crease)  But I'd have let her go if I'd known 
how important it was to her.  (Her expression becomes pained.)  
But after the awful things I said, who could blame her 
for not wanting to tell me?

(Joel looks at her questioningly, wondering if she'll 
elaborate.  Instead, Helen turns away and looks as though 
she's deeply pondering.)

HELEN: (softly)  It's all my fault.  Everything's my fault.  

JOEL:  Helen, don't be so hard on yourself.

HELEN:  No, it's true. (groans) Which makes it that much more 
imperative that I set it right.

JOEL:  So what are you going to do?

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Morgendorffer kitchen, morning)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Daria at the table,
cordless phone to her ear.  Quinn enters, looking tired and 
crabby, and silently sits down on one of the counter stools.
Daria glances at her as she continues to listen to Helen on 
the other end.)

DARIA: (into the phone)  Yes, Dad and Quinn are fine.
(Pause) Dad's still in bed.

JAKE: (suddenly, from out back)  AGHHHHH!  Work, you stupid
machine!

DARIA:  I mean destroying the lawn mower.  (Bt)  Yes, I know 
where the tourniquets are.  (Bt)  See you soon.

(Seconds later, she clicks off the phone.)

DARIA: (to Quinn, with relief)  Mom said she'll be home this 
afternoon.  Commence normal boring weekend.

QUINN: (distant, flips through an open newspaper nearby)  Great.

DARIA:  So Aunt Amy worked her magic.  (thought VO.)  In
spite of what she said.

QUINN:  Yeah.

DARIA:  Our parents might not be cozy, but at least they'll 
share a zip code.

QUINN:  Yeah.

DARIA: (cocking an eyelid)  And soon aliens will invade our 
planet and make candy wrapper hair extensions the new fashion "do."

(Quinn pushes aside the newspaper and sits up, looking angry.)

QUINN:  I *heard* you, Daria.  I was paying attention.

DARIA:  If that were true, you'd be ewwing about now.  Frankly 
I'd've thought you of all people would be thrilled about Mom 
and Dad.

(Quinn hops off of the stool.)

QUINN:  Since when do you know anything about me?!

(She walks briskly out of the room, leaving a puzzled Daria
to stare after her.)

DARIA: (to the empty room)  I'd better not tell her about 
the two-way glass in her mirror.

(cut to:)

SCENE 5 (Amy's place, a little later)

(Shot of the outside.  Close-up on Amy, sitting up in bed, 
Indian-style.  Her face is pensive and weary, and maybe a trifle 
green, as though she's eaten the wrong thing.  She watches as Helen 
rushes between her bedroom and the bathroom, dressed in her usual 
business suit.)  

HELEN:  I have to leave, Amy.  I have to face this, and I can't 
do it here.

AMY:  You don't need to explain yourself, Helen.  

HELEN:  And I'd stay for breakfast, but if I do I might wind up 
making some silly excuse to avoid leaving, and there's no way 
I can keep doing that!  Not when it's so unfair to Jake and the 
girls, and for me to just *drive* away and not explain to Jake 
what I've been feeling, I can't believe I've let it sit for so 
long!  That's not me.  *This* is me.

(Helen's face, now done up in its usual fashion, takes on a hard, 
determined expression.  Amy looks her over and leans back against 
her pillows.) 

HELEN:  I know that means I won't see your favorite spots, but 
I promise you, honey, I do want to.  (face softens.)  I won't let 
another twenty years go by before I see your home again.

AMY:  Since by then, it could be on the new Mars colony. 

(She chuckles, as does Helen.  But Helen notices that something 
is off about Amy's behavior.  She doesn't seem angry, but lacks 
energy.)

HELEN:  I hope you're not upset.

AMY:  Upset to have my weekend back?  When I can finally make 
that needlepoint class?

(This brings to mind the comment Joel made about the clinic.  
Helen looks at Amy with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.)      

HELEN:  I want to thank you and Joel for putting up with me.

AMY:  Think nothing of it.  I know you'd do the same.

HELEN:  Maybe so, but I haven't said "thank you" nearly enough 
the past couple of days.  And the words I *have* said haven't been 
all that kind.

AMY: (sardonic)  Really?

HELEN:  I shouldn't have blamed you for my problems.  (sighs.)  
I was upset, I needed a scapegoat, but it wasn't your fault.

AMY: (softer)  Really...

HELEN:  I know you sacrificed a lot to keep me here.  (eyes Amy.)  
Probably more than you're willing to admit.  I'm sorry to have 
behaved so thoughtlessly.

AMY:  Helen... (Her cheeks flush, as though embarrassed by the
strong emotions she's feeling.  She looks at her sister and smiles.)  
Apology accepted.  And for what it's worth, you weren't the burden 
I thought you would be.  In fact...

HELEN:  Yes?      

AMY:  I... never mind.  There were some things I wanted to ask.  
Nothing important.

HELEN: (coaxing)  Come on, Amy: no secrets.  Remember?

AMY:  It's nothing that can't wait for e-mail.

HELEN:  All right, but don't be shy.  

(She looks at Amy a moment longer before reaching over to give 
her a hug.  We see Amy's face over Helen's shoulder, solemn 
and thoughtful.)

HELEN: (pulling away)  I'll call you when I get home.

(She brushes a few stray hairs off of Amy's face, and moves 
toward the door.)

AMY:  Helen, wait.  Don't go.

(Helen turns, sees Amy's serious expression.)

HELEN:  What's the matter?

AMY: (shaking her head)  Believe me, I want to let you go, but 
something doesn't feel right.  I... just hear me out. 

(Concerned, Helen comes back over and sits beside Amy on the bed.)

AMY:  A piece of our puzzle is missing.  Now maybe I'm overstepping 
my boundaries and misreading things and what have you, but I have 
to ask.

HELEN:  Ask what?

AMY:  Are you still in love with Jake?  

HELEN: (after a slight pause, stunned)  Why Amy, what on earth 
kind of question is that?

AMY:  A valid one.  (softer.)  Hey, if the answer's yes, then all 
the pain and heartache you've suffered or have yet to suffer will 
be worth it.

(Helen just looks at Amy.)

(fade-out.  fade-in to:)

SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer garage, that same time)

JAKE:  *Damn* it!  That's the second one I've busted in two 
weeks!  Lousy cheap piece of tin - OW!  You bit me!  (He snaps 
back his hand, revealing a cut on his finger, then puts it in 
his mouth.)

DARIA:  Um... Father?

JAKE:  Thtoopid... (removes his hand.)  Dammit, you're ALL AGAINST ME!

(He starts kicking the lawn equipment viciously, causing it to 
fall every which way.  Daria just stands there watching, until 
Jake finally turns around.)

JAKE: (brightens immediately)  Oh.  Hey kiddo.

DARIA:  Not to interrupt your struggle for survival, but Mom called.  
She's coming home from... (Suddenly she frowns, not remembering what 
excuse she gave him.)

JAKE:  Helping your aunt replenish her wardrobe after her old one 
was destroyed by that horrific moth invasion?  (shudders.)  Ewww.  

DARIA:  Er... yes.  Yes, exactly.  

JAKE:  Quinn told me.

DARIA:  Of course.  Though don't be surprised if Mom gives it a 
different spin.  

JAKE:  So she'll be home this afternoon, then.

DARIA:  Yep.  (tries to sound suggestive.)  I'm sure you two will 
have a lot of catching up to do.
 
JAKE:  Yeah, great.  

(Daria notes a subtle, yet definite lack of enthusiasm.  Her brow 
creases with concern.) 

DARIA:  If you need Quinn and me to spend the night elsewhere --

JAKE: (laughing)  Aw don't be silly, kiddo! 

DARIA:  Silly... of course.  (awkward.)  Well now that I've told 
you, I'll be on my merry way.

(She turns to leave.)

JAKE:  Daria?

DARIA: (turning)  Yes?

JAKE:  Um, so your mother has been at your aunt's this *whole* time?

DARIA:  According to the call tracer, she has.

JAKE: (uneasy)  Traced... calls.  That's... funny, kiddo!

DARIA:  I can hardly contain myself.

(Deadpan, Daria looks at him a bit longer, preparing to say more. 
Finally she leaves.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 7 (Daria's room, shortly after)

(Daria sits at her computer desk, the cordless phone to her ear.)

DARIA:  I had my chance, and I blew it.

(Intercut between her and Jane, on the other end.  Jane is still 
lying in bed, looking as though she's struggling to keep the 
conversation straight.)

JANE:  So go find him and ask him again.  

DARIA: (flustered)  I can't do it now, the moment has passed.  
It would be too awkward.  But I have to ask him, I've put it 
off for too long.  But it's none of my business.  Of *course* 
it's my business...

JANE:  For *this*, you woke me up in the wee hours of late morning? 

DARIA:  My mother's coming home, anyway.  I should wait until 
they're in the same room.

JANE:  Because having them in the same room worked *so* well before.

DARIA: (glaring)  It will be different this time.  I know stuff now.  

JANE:  So you'll finally say, "Hey Mom and Dad, Quinn and I have the 
right to know what's going on, so you'd better spill the beans, or 
we'll turn the car into a shelter for stray animals with really poor 
bladder control."

DARIA:  Is Mystik Spiral sleeping over again?  

JANE: (softer)  I know this has been hard for you, Daria.  But it's not 
like you to be so timid when you're *this* close to uncovering the 
bullshit.  

DARIA:  Oh yeah??  Well maybe it's not *up* to me this time.  
Why doesn't someone else do the dirty work for a change?

JANE:  Is a vacuum cleaner convention in town?  (As Daria rolls her 
eyes, gently:)  Come on, what's the absolute worst that could happen?

(Beat)

DARIA:  My deepest, darkest fears will be confirmed.  My parents will 
divorce, and I'll have to endure a parade of would-be lovers with names 
like "Stu" and "Lurlene."

JANE:  Would there be cheap jewelry involved?

DARIA: (nods)  And implant scars.  

JANE: I can imagine Quinn's reaction. (falsetto, imitation.)  "Ewww!  
That necklace is turning your *chest* green!" 

DARIA: (suddenly sulky)  Maybe.

JANE:  What's her take on all this?

DARIA:  I haven't spoken to her about it.  Or rather, she isn't speaking 
to *me*.

JANE:  She's mad at you again?

DARIA:  No reason, again.

JANE:  No reason?  That can't be true.

DARIA:  Or one she'd rather not tell me.  One that makes sense only 
after she's twisted it to suit her logic.  God I'm sick of this.

JANE:  Maybe you need a third party to squeeze it out of her.

DARIA:  I couldn't ask you to do that.

JANE:  Anything to help out.  Face it, amiga: no matter what 
happens, you guys are gonna need each other.

DARIA: (dispirited)  Right.  (Pause)  Hey Jane?

JANE:  Yeah?

DARIA: (with difficulty)  It's not just that our lives could change 
if my parents divorce.  I could adjust to them being in two different 
places, since I'll be in college soon anyway.  It's just that they've 
been together for so long, and they've got a ton of history.  I think 
it would sort of hurt them if they had to give it all up. 

(cut to: )

SCENE 8 (Amy's place, same time)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to close-up of Joel, his head tilted downward.)

JOEL: (irritated)  What do you mean she hasn't gone home??

(Wide shot reveals him on the living room couch -- lying on top of Amy.  
Both of them are clothed, but that wasn't going to last for much longer.  
Until Amy dropped the news, she and Joel were kissing with the ease and 
insistence of people who knew that they were not being spied on.  Now 
Joel has pulled away, frowning.)

JOEL:  Her car's gone.

AMY:  No... I just asked her to move it to the street.  You know 
how those parking nazis get when you're in someone's spot longer 
than twenty-four hours.

JOEL:  She's been gone a while.

AMY:  Yeah, well, maybe she decided to go on home anyway.  
(reflective.)  Though after what we talked about, I doubt it.

(Joel sits up, the moment all but passed.)

JOEL:  She seemed so damned determined to go home, I thought she 
might actually go through it.

AMY:  She would have, but I asked her to stay.  (Joel stares at her.  
Amy looks back at him with a hard-eyed expression.)  Look, she'll 
still be leaving today; it will just be later. 

JOEL:  May I ask why?

AMY:  Why, what?

JOEL:  Why you kept her from leaving?

AMY:  I wanted to show her one of my favorite haunts.  It might be 
months before she comes back.

JOEL: (doubtful)  That the only reason?

AMY:  No.  (trace of annoyance.)  Because as much as she thinks she's 
got a handle on her problems, she doesn't.  She'd be making a 
big mistake if she went home like nothing happened.  

JOEL: (groaning)  But she *knows* she still has problems, *that's* 
why she's leaving.  It's one thing for you to support her when she was 
a basket case, but now she wants to do for herself.  So just let 
her, already.

AMY:  Are you kidding?  A good hostess never leaves her guests to 
fend for themselves.

(Her tone is light, but her eyes still glitter with "Don't question 
me" rebellion.  Joel grits his teeth in a smile.)

JOEL:  For someone who hated getting blamed last night, you sure 
seem eager for a second whipping. 

AMY:  This time it's different.  This time I'm sure I can help.

JOEL:  How?  What exactly do you want her to do??

AMY: (after a slight pause)  What she really wants... for once.

JOEL:  And just how do you know so well what she wants?!

(Amy looks away, her boyfriend's tone of voice not lost 
on her.  Then she looks back at him, takes his face gently in her 
hands, and kisses him deeply on the lips.  When she pulls back, 
she looks him in the eye.)

AMY:  Somehow, I just do.
  
(Joel returns her gaze, staring into the depths of her brown eyes.  
He assesses the "trust me" tone of her warm, melting voice, before 
leaning in closer.)



****************
END OF ACT ONE
             
[Shot of Evelyn Barksdale and co. in flashback, followed by shot of 
Daria and Jake in the garage, followed by shot of Helen and Amy hugging, 
followed by shot of Jane lying in bed, the phone to her ear.]

***You are now entering commercial *HELL*.  Please keep your seatbelt 
securely fastened.  You are about to see some of the lamest commercials 
put on television.***

1) "At an undetermined time, only at MTV's discretion: Daria finally 
confronts Quinn's sinister math teacher, only to find he has an ace 
up his sleeve.  And Quinn finally learns what Sandi has been up to 
since she quit Student Council.  Next week... or the week after... or 
when MTV decides to shave a half-hour off of a Road Rules marathon... 
on an all-new 'Daria.'"

"Wait... you say that 'Daria' has moved to the Noggin Channel?  Well good 
luck ever seeing it then.  Uh, I mean: subscribe to Noggin NOW!"

2) Heyloh... we need to find some way to make "Daria" palatable to the 
general MTV audience, so we're squeezing in a video by a well-known 
rock group.  Although it does not contain any footage or lyrics relating 
to "Daria," we're sure the vapid MTV VJ's can make some tenuous connection... 

3) Those public service commercials, where average-looking kids solemnly 
confess: "I helped gun down a village in Bolivia." "I smuggled bombs and 
weapons into public place."  Because these kids took drugs.  These 
commercials want us to believe that drug-taking kids were responsible 
for the sort of terrorism that brought down the World Trade Center towers.  
When in fact they had nothing to do with it, and probably very little to do 
with terrorism in South America.  If these public service commercials really 
want to make a statement, they ought to show a middle-aged man fueling up 
his SUV while proclaiming: "I help fund schools that breed religious 
fanatics.  Hey, I just want to look cool when I drive."

***You are now leaving commercial *HELL*. Aren't you happy you survived?***


ACT TWO

SCENE 1 (Morgendorffer house, around noon)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Quinn lying on her bed, head 
propped up with one hand, gazing down at her math text.  For once 
she looks as though she can't focus.  Her eyes keep drifting away 
from the page, until finally she slides off the bed and darts over 
to the CD player to change the CD, which has been playing inoffensive 
boy band pop.  Once she completes the task, she turns around to go 
back... only to find Jane standing in her room.)

JANE:  Um, knocky, knocky.  

QUINN:  Jane!  What are *you* doing in here?

JANE:  Wow, your room still looks like this?

QUINN: (now annoyed)  Shouldn't you, like, be sitting with Daria, 
complaining about stuff?

JANE: (faux energized)  Not when I've got the chance to invite you 
to join Daria on a fun-filled excursion downstairs!

QUINN:  To do what?

JANE:  Confront your dad.

QUINN: (frowning)  That's not fun.

JANE:  It would be if your dad were Ozzy Osbourne.  You could watch 
him stumble around, mumbling nonsensical things and cursing at 
inanimate objects.  (Wait -- that *is* Jake.)  On second thought...  

QUINN: (suspicious)  Why are *you* here asking me instead of Daria?

JANE:  You know your sister.  Always on the run, too busy to handle 
her own affairs.

(Quinn plops back down on the bed with her math book.)

QUINN:  She can confront Dad herself, then.  

(Jane lets out a big groan.)

JANE:  C'mon Quinn, I just got through giving this lecture to Daria.  
You can't afford to be mad at her: she's your only ally.  The one 
person who knows exactly how you feel about this crappy parental 
neglect thing. 

QUINN:  What about you?  You seem to know how it feels.

JANE:  Only because the situation has made my childhood and young 
adulthood flash before my eyes. (shudders.)  Be glad neither 
of your parents is on a balloon trip over the Andes. 

(Quinn smiles, albeit briefly.)

QUINN:  Sorry.  But there's still no point in me coming with her.  

JANE:  Why not?

QUINN:  Because I already talked to my dad.

JANE: (surprised)  When?

QUINN:  This morning.  I was like, "Dad, enough is *enough*.  Are 
you and Mom fighting?  Are you gonna get a divorce?"

JANE:  What'd he do?

QUINN:  Well first he kind of went all pale and laughed really 
nervously and put his hand on his heart like he was about to have 
another heart attack, and --

JANE:  Okay, okay: but did he *say* anything?   

QUINN: (quieter)  He said it was up to Mom.  Then he had to check 
the freezer to make sure the lasagna hadn't gone bad, and ran off.

JANE:  Yeesh.  

QUINN:  Then okay, so I called Mom on her cell phone, right?  
But it went right to her voicemail, so I called Aunt Amy's house and 
her boyfriend answered.  So I talked to *him* a little and told him 
what was going on, and he sounded kind of weird, I wouldn't say 
*mad* or anything, but he told me Aunt Amy wanted to show Mom one 
last thing before she left.  (frustrated.)  So Mom hasn't even 
*started* home yet.

JANE: (overwhelmed)  Well I admire your footwork.  But don't you think 
this is something you could've might've *should*'ve told Daria?

(Quinn's expression darkens into one of resentment.)

QUINN:  *Why* should I?  She didn't tell *me* Mom's real reason 
for visiting Aunt Amy.  

JANE:  Oh?

QUINN: (storming)  She thought I was too stupid, like I couldn't 
handle the truth!  Well this time I wanted to know something 
*she* didn't know, something really important.  (more solemn.)  
I was gonna tell her eventually.

JANE:  First day at the retirement community?  (Quinn shoots a 
look of defiance.)  Look, Daria doesn't think you're stupid; she 
just has incredibly high standards that very few people meet.  
So to her, you're not *uniquely* stupid --

QUINN: (angry/amused)  Ha, right.  I've only lived with 
her since *birth*.  And I know when she thinks you're really 
stupid, and I know she thinks *I* am.

JANE:  Quinn, you're --

QUINN:  And you want to know why??  'Cause she doesn't *want* 
me to be smart. 

JANE:  Oh *please*, Daria's been encouraging you since Day One.  
First with the glasses, then with doing well in school, and --

QUINN:  I used to think that.  

JANE:  What??

QUINN:  Like you, that she just wanted me to meet her standards.  
So I've tried.  But the smarter I get at math, the less she 
seems to like it.       

JANE:  And how can you prove that?

QUINN:  When I was doing badly, she always used to say I wasn't 
living up to my potential.  *Now* she says I'm only doing well 
because my math teacher is a big creep.

JANE:  You think there's something to what she says?

QUINN:  NO!

(The vehemence of her outburst startles Jane, and even seems to 
startle Quinn, who then looks embarrassed if only briefly.)

QUINN:  Okay, so he gives me some extra attention.  But I've come  
most of the way myself!

JANE:  I believe you.  (puts up her hands in a jovial "back off" 
manner.)  But devil's advocate: when's the last time you doled out 
compliments to her?  Like, say, on her appearance?

QUINN:  But she hasn't changed her appearance.  She hasn't 
changed *anything*!  It's all been me. 

JANE:  Well no matter how much you think she's wronged you, it's 
not gonna help if all you do is growl at her.  You've gotta be 
honest, which means you've gotta face her.

QUINN: (resistant)  If I tell her, she'll just say something real 
smart and clever to twist it around, so I look even stupider.  She's 
good at that.  (squeezes her eyes shut.)  I'm tired of it.

(Jane looks at Quinn a moment, as if understanding exactly what 
she feels.  She reaches over to pat Quinn on the shoulder, then thinks 
better of it.)       

JANE:  'Kay fine, we won't mention this conversation.  But for the 
greater good, you think you could at least tell Daria what you know?

(Quinn pauses, looks from Jane to her book.)

JANE:  Okay, then.  *I* tell her.

(Quinn glares at Jane, stands up, and walks out of the room.  
Jane follows.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (that same time, near the coast)

HELEN:  I do love him, you know.

(Amy has been driving them along a two-lane highway, not far outside 
her city.  She glances over at Helen beside her.)

AMY:  Yes, you've told me.

HELEN:  It's just... it's just it's complicated.

AMY:  I understand.  

(They continue to ride in silence, the same silence that has been 
between them for most of the trip.  Amy glances at Helen expectantly, 
while Helen gazes out at the faintly visible coastline.  She then checks 
her watch for the dozenth time, then her cell phone, which has been 
accidentally shut off.  She clicks it on and sees that she has missed 
a few calls, but there are no messages.  Helen gets an even more 
distressed and restless expression.)

(Soon the road pulls away from the coast, and Amy drives into 
the parking lot of a slightly rundown, yet otherwise bland strip mall.  
Helen looks confused as her sister parks in front of a secondhand store.) 

HELEN:  This is it??

AMY: (getting out)  This is it.

(Cut to the inside.  The shelves are packed with slightly dusty, 
interesting artifacts, such as old board games, lamps, exercise 
equipment, collectors' plates, etc.  Amy looks around appreciatively, 
with a sense of familiarity that comes from frequent visits.  Helen, on 
the other hand, reacts with distinct discomfort.)

AMY:  There's a real sense of ambiance, isn't there?

HELEN:  Um, sure... but I don't understand.  (a little cross.)  We came 
*all* this way, just to visit a shop that's no different from any other 
pawn shop. 

AMY:  It's not just *any* shop.  This one has sentimental value.  

HELEN:  You?  Sentimental?  Right.

AMY:  You don't think I can be sentimental?

(Helen pauses, as if remembering something.)

HELEN:  Actually, I do.  

AMY: (pleased)  You see, I stumbled upon this place years ago, when 
I broke down on my way home from college.  I was trying to pass time, 
waiting for the mechanics to fix my engine... and suddenly it hit me.

HELEN:  What?

AMY:  I didn't want to be a chemist.  (off Helen's puzzled reaction.)  
I majored in chemistry to please Mom and Dad, because I thought it made 
me look distinguished.  I was good at it, but I didn't enjoy it.  

HELEN:  So what happened?

AMY:  I switched majors... Mom and Dad said I was spoiled and lacked 
direction, of course.  I headed down the path of liberal arts and 
haven't looked back. (sighs a little, then smirks.)  It felt like 
the right idea at the time.

HELEN:  So something here brought you to your epiphany?

AMY:  I'm not sure.  (looks around her, eyes filling with feeling.)  
But since then, I've come back every so often.  It's where I decided 
to call Joel after Mom's anniversary party.  There's something about it.  

HELEN: (a little distant)  Yes.  

(And whatever that something is, Helen doesn't like it.  She wishes 
she knew why.  Then she turns to look at Amy, who is watching her with 
a rare sparkle in her eyes.  Something about it touches Helen deep down, 
and in spite of her misery, she smiles.) 

HELEN:  Thank you for showing it to me.

AMY:  I thought you might like it as well.  

HELEN:  How come?

AMY:  Because if you've lost something, there's a good chance you might 
find it here.  (looks at her carefully.)  And it's also a good place to 
lose and find yourself again.

HELEN: (confused, or pretends to be)  But I'm not looking for anything.

AMY:  You've always been looking for something, Helen.  

HELEN: (surprised)  How do you know?

AMY:  I just do.  Blame it on that sixth sense I've got from 
years of standing in the background observing.  (quietly matter 
of fact.)  Ever since we were young, you didn't take on new 
challenges just to be the best, did you?

HELEN:  I'm pretty sure I *did*.

AMY:  You may have thought you did, but through all that testing of 
personal limits, you wanted to learn more about who you were.  Find 
something that really fit you.  

HELEN: (cocks a brow)  That's a pretty strong statement.  

AMY: (smirks)  Says the woman who blamed me for ruining her life.

HELEN: (remembering)  But you told me yesterday that I'd always tried 
to be something I *wasn't*.

AMY:  That's right: something more than you were at present.  It was 
a compliment, Helen.

HELEN: (sarcastic)  Pardon *me* for not getting the obvious.  Have you 
always felt this way? 

AMY: (nodding)  But I didn't realize it until last night.

HELEN:  Why last night?

AMY: (placid)  It's amazing, isn't it?  How one experience can just trigger 
a bunch of new feelings?   Remind you of things you once felt and at the 
same time open you up to new possibilities?

(Helen listens, feeling both bewildered and strangely closer to her 
sister than ever before.)

HELEN:  Yes.  (looks probingly at Amy.)  But are you sure it's not *you* 
who's always been looking for something?  Like right now, perhaps?   
  
AMY:  I'm just saying I think you're very close to getting what you 
want, and you're probably afraid.  (intense look.)  *Don't* be, Helen.  
You could be on the verge of something wonderful.  Don't turn away, or 
you might never forgive yourself.      

HELEN:  *Thank* you, Ann Landers, but I...

(Helen is about to tell Amy she's just fine, but something about 
Amy's impassioned, sincere request causes the words to stick her throat.  
It comes across almost like need, suggesting a deeper level of despair 
than Joel had mentioned.  At the same time, Helen can't deny its power.  
She finds herself smiling again and is about to speak, when it finally 
hits her -- why the shop bothers her.  Like water through a busted dam, 
fears that she has been holding back flood her consciousness.  Helen 
squeezes her eyes shut.)

AMY:  What's wrong?

HELEN:  This place... all these useless things.  It reminds me of Jake's 
junk sculpture.

AMY: (not understanding)  Really?

HELEN: (miserable)  Oh Amy, Jake's the one you should be talking to, 
not me!  He's the one who's been trying to find himself after years 
of being held back.

AMY:  Held back?

HELEN:  By *me*.  I've been holding him back.

AMY: (frowning)  How?

HELEN:  I don't know... but there's something I'm not doing.  (face 
puckers.)  Because with the *proper* encouragement, he can do so 
much.  

(Amy watches her sister's distress and feels a barrier slide between 
them again.)

HELEN:  You know he's been teaching night classes?  A friend of his 
got him involved.  At first they just went bowling, but now he... 
*classes*. It really seems to be doing him a lot of good.

AMY:  So what's the problem?  

HELEN:  His *friend* encouraged him.  Not me.  

AMY:  All rivers run to the ocean.  

HELEN:  But I'm his *wife*!  If I can't influence him in the right 
direction, what's the point of my being with him??

AMY:  What about when he encourages you?

HELEN: (not hearing)  He might have fulfilled his dreams *years* ago, 
and wouldn't have spent all this time feeling so hurt and resentful. 

AMY: (arched brow)  So his failings are your fault.

HELEN:  Before I kissed Greg, I saw Jake's sculpture, and it struck 
me that Jake might deserve someone else.  Someone who... (Pause, as 
Helen's face turns red and tears well up in her eyes.)  Someone who 
could help him be... the kind of man he wants to be.

(Tears well up in her eyes, and she closes them to keep them from 
spilling over.  Helen sinks down just as Amy reaches over to put a 
hand on her shoulder, leaving Amy to stroke air.  She doubles over 
and hugs her knees, crying noiselessly and tearlessly, as though she's 
been seized by pains on the inside that would only get worse if she 
let anything out.  Amy watches with concern, before crouching 
down to put her arms around Helen's shoulders.)  

(After several moments pass, Helen sniffles and wipes her eyes, and 
looks about her as though trying to adjust to a new perspective.)     

HELEN: (realizing)  That's what this is about, isn't it?  All 
this misery I've been feeling: it's because I felt like Jake deserves 
someone else.  (sniffles, smiles a little.)  Yes... that's it.

(She stands up shakily, with Amy's help.)

HELEN:  Now that I've actually *said* it, it really doesn't seem so bad.  
(lawyer-like.)  I can work with this.  I can --

AMY: (carefully)  And Greg?

HELEN:  What about him?

AMY:  You kissed him, didn't you? 

HELEN: (quietly acknowledging)  Of course I did.  But don't you see?  
The only reason I did was because I felt so horrible about Jake.  It 
was really more of a... an impulse.  A fluke.

AMY:  A fluke??  
   
HELEN:  This changes everything, now.  (wipes her eyes.)  I *can* work 
with this.  I'll tell Jake about my insecurities, and we'll talk 
about it and maybe see someone. 

AMY: (unrelenting)  But what about what you said last night? About how 
Greg helped you "discover" yourself through sculpting and caused 
you to have some spiritual awakening?  

HELEN: (smiles a little)  I think that might have been the wine from 
dinner talking.  I don't remember half of what I said.

(Amy just stares at her, dumbfounded.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Morgendorffer house, that same time)

JAKE: (OS)  I don't know how it happened.  

(Cut to shot of him, Daria, and Quinn sitting on the living room couches.)  

JAKE: (crestfallen)  Everything was fine.  Well I mean your mother and 
I were fighting, but we *always* fight, and we always make up in the end. 

(His eyes take on a dreamy look, suggesting the way in which they made up.)

JAKE:  But then we had this one fight... it was the worst one we'd had, and 
it was all my fault!

QUINN:  That one at Grandma Barksdale's party?

[*] See Helen and Jake's blow-up at the end of "None in the Family, Part One"

JAKE:  No.  (His face flushes, as he realizes he'll have to 'fess up about 
more recent events.)  I accused her of having feelings for someone else.  
She said she didn't, and I thought we made up.  But then she just... drifted 
away.

(Quinn looks distressed.  Daria nods faintly, recalling what Jane said 
about Greg.) 

DARIA:  Drifted *where*?

JAKE:  I don't know.  She hasn't acted upset.  When I get home at night, 
she's always there.  You haven't seen her go out in the evenings, have you?

(Daria and Quinn shake their heads.)

JAKE: (reflective)  Which is strange, because I would have *thought*... 

(He catches himself again.  This time Daria notices.)

JAKE:  Maybe it's all in my head.  When I talk to her, she answers the same 
way she always does. (face clouds.)  But she isn't the same.  I feel like 
she looks at me... like she doesn't know who I am.

QUINN: (quiet)  She does that with us, too, Dad.

DARIA:  It's her general mood.  It's like she's depressed.

JAKE: (mopey)  Depressed...

DARIA:  Did you ever talk to her about it?

JAKE:  I *tried*, but she -- (He stops, then he shakes his head vigorously.)  
No, no, I never tried.  I *should* have tried.  God *dammit*, why didn't 
I ever try?!

(Daria and Quinn look at each other, concerned about his reaction.)

QUINN: (helpful)  You could still try.  

JAKE: (shakes his head, in his own world)  And I thought "*Hey*, well 
you cold-shoulder ME, I can do it *right* back!  HA!"  So *I* drifted 
away and did my own thing even *more*.  And I started thinking about 
what life would be like without her.  And then I --   

(He stops abruptly, as if catching himself, then grips his head, anguished.)
      
JAKE:  Aw girls, I shouldn't be *telling* you this!!  You're too pure and 
innocent for these kinds of details.

QUINN:  Hello, Dad?  Celebrity magazines.

DARIA:  Well you've told us.  There's nothing you can do about it now.

JAKE:  I just don't want you to feel the same resentment toward me that I've 
got toward *my* old man!

DARIA:  Dad, we *asked* you to tell us.  Actually, forced you to.  We 
can't hate you for doing what we asked.

QUINN: (solemn)  But you and Mom will make up eventually.  Right?

(A long, excruciating beat.)

JAKE:  I want to, honey.  I miss her.  (groans.)  But for some reason, 
I keep feeling like even if we really *want* to make up, something 
will stop us. 

QUINN: (frightened)  But the point is you *want* to, right?

JAKE: (exploding)  I'm such an IDIOT!  How could I *say* those things 
to her?!  I hurt her so much, and then I turn around and -- !

DARIA:  Dad.

QUINN:  Calm down!

JAKE: (hands over his eyes)  GOD, I'm so weak!  I'm such a jerk!  A 
terrible mean-hearted jerk!  It's my fault!!

QUINN:  Da-aad!!

(Daria looks at Jake's face and sees a level of anguish almost out-of-
proportion to the situation.  She recalls the way he caught himself 
earlier, and frowns with concern.)

QUINN: (terse)  Dad, look at me.  You *do* want to fix this, don't you??  

JAKE: (moaning)  Sure I do!  But --

QUINN:  Then you can.  Remember what happened the last time?

JAKE:  The Guptys?  (cringes.)  Oh *God* no!  The house is a mess.

QUINN:  I *mean* when you got the courage to tell Mom how you felt, and 
she didn't bite your head off, and then you kissed and kissed and kissed 
until I was about ready to die.  Remember?

JAKE: (thoughtful)  Yeah...

DARIA:  Quinn, I think a few things are different this time.

(Quinn spins to face her, eyes narrowing.)

QUINN:  What's different??  Dad's in trouble and he needs help.  If you 
won't help him *I* will. 

(She turns to Jake, business-like.)  

QUINN:  Now Dad, it sounds like you were Mr. Insensitive and a trifle 
insecure, which always turns girls off.  You could buy Mom gifts, which 
works for most women, but Mom has this weird thing against material 
displays of affection.

(Jake nods slowly, a sliver of hope in his expression.)

QUINN:  So you should probably try to boost the sensitivity.

JAKE:  Sensitivity.  Check.

QUINN:  If you want, I can show you how.

DARIA:  That'll leave him in good hands.

QUINN:  First let me get something to write with...

(Ignoring Daria, she dashes off.)

(cut to: )
   
SCENE 5 (driving, early afternoon)

(Amy and Helen are on the return journey to Amy's apartment.  Unlike 
last time, Helen keeps the silence at bay with lively, effusive 
chatter that makes her sound more like her "old" self than she has 
for quite some time.) 

HELEN: (relieved) ... This has been such an incredible load off of 
my mind, you don't even know.  All this time, I was *so* afraid the kiss 
meant something more than it did, when it didn't!

(Amy tries to smile at her sister's happy tone.  Instead, her cheeks 
flush with embarrassment.  Unused to being as vulnerable as she was 
in the shop, Amy now feels quite stupid for the things she said and 
the assumptions she made.  She tries to recall what Helen said the night 
before that led her to think Helen wanted something else.) 

HELEN:  All that guilt, all that fear about what could happen.  But no 
matter: it's all *much* simpler now.  I really think things will be 
all right, I really do.

AMY:  Good.  That's good.  

HELEN: (brow furrows)  But you know, this isn't the first time I've 
gotten carried away by irrational fears.  I used to have these fits of 
anxiety that made me *completely* shut down.  

(Amy looks at her questioningly.) 

HELEN:  And it was always for the same reason: concern about a loved 
one, causing me to either withdraw from human contact or seek comfort 
in another human being.  *That's* all the kiss was, same with my running 
to visit you.

AMY:  That makes sense.

HELEN:  I can't wait to go home, now.

(Helen finally comes down from her high enough to notice Amy's taciturnity. 
She feels such a sense of gratitude, even she can't find words to express 
it, and she wants Amy to feel as happy as she does.)

HELEN: (warm)  Well what about you?  Do you feel better after visiting 
one of your favorite haunts?

AMY: (unconvincing)  Oh... certainly.

HELEN:  Are you sure?  You said some pretty intense things to me in 
the shop.

AMY:  That was for your benefit.

HELEN: (more direct, gentle)  Is there anything you'd like to talk about? 

(Amy considers.  But already, the moment between them feels so far in 
the past, she doesn't have the will to try and rekindle it.  Instead, 
she struggles to bring her hopes back down to earth.)         

AMY: (faint smile)  And ruin your hour of triumph? 

HELEN:  Amy...

AMY:  I'd rather listen to you.  What's this about anxiety attacks?

(Helen glances at her, somewhat disappointed that she doesn't want to 
talk, but decides that the best thing is to lead by example.)  

HELEN: (smiling)  I'm surprised you don't know, given that you 
seemed so certain of how I felt when I was younger.

AMY:  What?

HELEN:  But then, most of these attacks seemed to happen when 
you were either very young or not yet born.  (cocks a brow.)  I wasn't 
*always* the questing, challenge-seeking person you claim I was.  

AMY:  So what were you?

(Pause)

HELEN:  Scared.  A lot.  As a child, of course, you have much less 
control over your life.  And I was a wayward, willful child, always 
getting yelled at.

AMY: (cocks a brow)  By Mom?

HELEN:  By everyone.  Back when we were doing a lot of moving and 
things were so stressful.  I'd get so worried people would think I 
was "bad" and stop loving me that I'd just go mute.  It seemed easier, 
somehow.  

AMY: (sympathetic)  I'm sure Mom and Dad were a positive influence.

HELEN: (resigned)  Well yes, Mom was Mom.  Rita was her favorite 
and nothing would change that.  But in some ways Dad was worse.

AMY: (knowing)  Of course.   
   
HELEN:  Because I knew he loved me best. (impassioned, drawn into the 
memory.)  When he got angry, I knew that meant I'd done something just 
awful, and I would get so scared it would happen again.  I didn't want 
to lose his love -- I *couldn't*.  Without him, I felt like I had no one.

AMY: (feeling the bond again)  Helen... 

HELEN:  Ironically, my worst attack had nothing to do with what 
I'd done. (laughs a little.)  How strange, I was just remembering this 
last night!  It was when Dad started talking about wanting a boy.  

AMY:  He tortured you, too?

HELEN: (bitter)  Oh yes.  He talked about it so damned much, I prayed 
in my room every night that it wouldn't happen.  (fiercely.) I wasn't 
about to be the odd man out.  

AMY:  Right.  

HELEN:  I started to lose weight and couldn't sleep.  Mom and Dad wound 
up putting me in the hospital for a short time.

AMY:  For how long??

HELEN:  About a week.  (assuring.)  Anyway, it was before you were born, 
and obviously I've lived to tell about it.

AMY:  What was the magic cure-all?

HELEN:  I just came to my senses.  And afterward, the thought never again 
crossed my mind.

AMY:  That's a relief.

HELEN:  Then of course I grew up, grew independent, and found ways to 
exercise control over my life. (reflective.)  It's funny: this is the first 
time I've ever had this problem as an adult.  Especially since I married.
  
(Amy doesn't hear her.  She's musing about something.) 

HELEN: (pensive)  When I've ever felt so completely unsure of my course of 
action that I couldn't handle it. 

(She turns to Amy, who responds after a beat.)
 
AMY:  Helen?  How soon did that attack happen before I was born?

HELEN:  Oh, not too soon.  

AMY: (cocks a brow)  Within nine months?

(Something about Amy's tone makes Helen look at her strangely.)

HELEN:  Within a month or two of your birth, actually.  After you 
arrived a girl, our parents decided not to have any more children, 
and all of Dad's talk... sort of went away.   

(Amy absorbs this in silence, the color draining from her cheeks.  
She focuses straight ahead on the road, but it's soon clear that her 
mind is not on driving, as she almost forgets to brake at a stop sign.)

HELEN:  Amy, watch it!  (amused.)  True, it's not the most selfless wish 
a little girl could make, but it's not as if any harm was done. (long 
Pause)  Amy?

(cut to: )

SCENE 6 (Morgendorffer house, a short time later.)

(Shot of the outside.)

JANE: (VO)  So good, you see?  

(Cut to shot of her and Daria sitting in Daria's room.)

JANE:  You took the problem by the horns and now your dad's downstairs 
trying to think up ways to win your mom back.

DARIA:  Oh yes, his enthusiasm was palpable.

JANE:  So why the gloomier than usual tone? 

DARIA:  Damned if I know.  Dad really does seem to want Mom back.

(Cut to shot of Quinn and Jake still on the living room couches.  Quinn 
has a notepad and is writing things down.  Jake fidgets with anxiety.)

JAKE:  So what's on the paper??  What??  Something that will help 
me?  Fix me??  What?! 
  
QUINN:  *Patience*, Father.  (finishes writing, rests her pen on the 
tablet.)  Okay, based on what you've said about your fight with Mom, 
how you feel you haven't listened to her, I've made up a short pop 
quiz covering the basics.

JAKE: (pales)  P-pop... *quiz*?  But I didn't study!

QUINN:  Dad, that's the *point*.  We'll know the severeness of your
problem based on how many questions you can answer, and go from there. 

JAKE:  And that helps??  Has it helped anyone else?

QUINN:  Oh, lots of people!  (thinks.)  Well, no one I actually *know*, 
but lots of models in Waif swear that it's kept their relationships 
afloat for an extra six months.  

JAKE:  Six months?!

QUINN:  Question One: What's Mom's middle name?

JAKE:  Oh God, I *know* I know this one!  It's... (frowns, wilts.) 
K-something, right?

(Quinn looks down at the pad, then at Jake, disappointed.)

QUINN:  Dad, it's *Anne*.  The only K in her name is in Barksdale.

JAKE:  Gah, I *knew* I'd get that one wrong!  Give me another one, 
please??  I'll do better! 

QUINN:  Okay, that was just for warm-up.  Question Two:  How *old* is 
Mom?

(Jake looks at Quinn with a "You've got to be kidding, right?")

JAKE:  Oh come on sweetie, we were in *college* together.  I'm not 
*that* dense!  She's... (Pause)  thirty-eight.

QUINN: (disappointed)  *Dad*, that's not even...

(She then sees Jake wearing a suave grin and realizes that is the age 
Helen *wants* to project.)      

QUINN:  Very *good*, Dad!

(Cut to shot of Daria and Jane in Daria's room, as before.)

DARIA:  Something just feels off.  Quinn treats this like it's 
the second seminar of the Gupty Empowerment Program.  Get Dad in touch 
with his touchy-feely side, and all will be peachy.  I don't buy it.

JANE:  So you're questioning Quinn's wisdom?

DARIA:  Don't I always?  (relenting.)  Believe me, I want it to work.  
The "something" that is off is giving me a sick feeling inside.

JANE:  Why assume Quinn doesn't know what she's doing?  This relationship 
stuff is her thing.

DARIA:  Dating is her thing.  Relationships require a level of maturity 
that's beyond her.  

JANE: (scorn creeping in)  Don't be so picky.  At least she's trying.

DARIA:  Who says I'm being picky?  

JANE:  She *was* the one who first confronted your dad, you know.

DARIA: (cocking a brow)  Yes, I know.  I don't need you to be her 
skywriter.

JANE:  Sorry, it's just that she said some pretty strong stuff when 
I talked to her earlier.  Like that you make fun of her because 
you don't want her to be as smart as you.

(Daria rolls her eyes, unsurprised by this statement.)

DARIA:  So we're discussing Quinn now?  As opposed to the very 
pressing problem at hand?

JANE: (shrugs)  It'll be good for a breather.  Besides, I'm kind of 
curious to know your thoughts. 

DARIA:  My thoughts are that she's got it all wrong.

JANE:  So you don't think she's cheating in math?

DARIA:  I don't think *she* thinks she is.

JANE:  But do you?

DARIA: (after a pause)  No.  I don't.  

JANE: (surprised)  Really??  Even with your suspicions of You Know Who?

(Daria's brow furrows, as though she's been giving this a lot of thought.)

DARIA:  Those suspicions don't touch Quinn.  Whatever she's earned... 
she's done it on her own.  

JANE:  You should tell her that.  Talk about a blow torch to the chill 
between you two.

DARIA: (irritated)  Given that I never called her a cheater in the 
*first* place, I shouldn't have to.  

JANE:  Does that mean also you wouldn't be upset if she got really high 
grades?

DARIA:  I would lead the Brain Pride Parade.

JANE:  And if everyone started saying "Hey Quinn, you're just like your 
sister.  You'll have the same success, the same privileges.  You might 
even go to the same college and--"

DARIA:  That wouldn't happen.

JANE:  Why not?

DARIA: (frowning a little while remaining even-toned)  Because she hasn't 
been a brain for that long, and only in one area.  People don't catch 
up that fast. 

JANE:  Yeah, but remember how quickly everyone embraced her for that 
"Academic Imprisonment" essay?  And that wasn't even good. 

DARIA:  She couldn't have kept it up, even if I hadn't stopped it.  That 
would require work and effort, which she may be learning, but still has 
a long way to go.  She can't just take a short cut and expect everyone to 
love her for it.

(Right there, Daria realizes that she has at least partially confirmed 
Quinn's suspicion.  She rolls her eyes.)

DARIA: I am *very* happy that my sister is taking her course work seriously. 
But if she expects me to embrace her as my equal, pretend away the years 
she spent wiggling out of the tough assignments and mocking me for being 
a brain, she's got another thing coming.

JANE:  So you just want her to pay her dues.  It's not about whether she's 
as smart as you.

DARIA:  Who knows if she's as smart as me??  If *I* spent as much time 
on one subject as she does, maybe they would call *me* maestro.  
It's excelling in *all* areas that shows what you're made of.

JANE:  That sounds sensible.  (fingers her artist clothes.)  Though what 
does that say about me?

DARIA:  You're different.  At least you spent years developing your art.  

JANE:  So?

DARIA:  You didn't just plunge in to a subject because your teacher made 
you, win a few tournaments, and expect to silence your critics.

JANE:  So only if Quinn slogs away at math for thirty years and winds up 
some savvy business tycoon, you'll begin to respect her?  Or is even that 
not enough?

DARIA:  Why are you taking *her* side?

JANE: (sighing)  I'm *not*.  But I do sort of feel for her.  She really, 
*really* wants your approval, I can tell.  And it's one thing to feel the 
sting of Daria Morgendorffer's scorn when you're an outsider, but to get 
it every day in your own home.

DARIA: (scowl)  Could we talk about crumbling marriages again?  It was more 
reassuring.   

JANE:  I have to confess, your scorn for her is pretty visible.

DARIA:  Like *her* scorn for me. 

JANE:  Be honest: is it just because you feel she doesn't deserve it?  
Or is part of you reluctant to share your identity?

DARIA:  Scorn.  Quinn.  For me.  Have you been listening?  Why should I 
coddle her when she's never put herself out in the same way??  

JANE: (soft)  Okay, I'll go with the first one.  

DARIA:  If you think that means Quinn and I can't work together on this 
parental crisis, you're wrong.

JANE:  No, I don't think that.  But it definitely won't make things 
easier.  

DARIA:  She'll get over it.  She has before.

JANE:  Yeah.  (shrugs.)  And then she'll get mad again.

DARIA:  Which is her choice.

JANE:  But always about the same subject.  Looks to me like this smartness 
thing is a real sticking point between you two.

DARIA:  And how is it any different from our *other* sharp objects?   

JANE: (shrugs)  Maybe because right now, in spite of the past resentments 
you've had, you don't *need* Quinn's approval.  But she seems to need you to 
tell her she's smart.  Which means until you can shave down the sticking 
pointy thing, you guys won't resolve your differences. 

(Daria cocks an eyelid, considering that fact.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 7 (neighborhood near Amy's residence)

AMY:  Goodbye, Helen.

(Her voice is cold and tight.  Helen looks at her imploringly.)

HELEN:  Come on, Amy, not even a hug?  We shouldn't end things this 
way -- again.

(They stand out on the curb, besides Helen's parked SUV and Amy's double- 
parked convertible.  Their demeanors tell us that the rest of the trip home 
was silent and uncomfortable.)

AMY:  I have to go inside.

HELEN:  I don't get you.  Things were going so well, and I don't want us 
to part in anger.  Please tell me what happened.

(Amy considers, but even she can't find a logical explanation -- whether 
this rage that came on so suddenly has a connection to her present issues, 
or whether it's free-floating childhood resentment best left to wither 
away on its own.  Finally Amy leans forward to give her sister a hug that 
exudes more chill than warmth.) 

AMY:  Just go home, Helen.

HELEN: (disappointed)  Fine.  I can't understand if you won't let me.  
(She whips out her purse and removes a few large bills, which she 
then stuffs into Amy's hand.)  Here, this should cover my expenses. 

(She fumbles around in search of her car keys, while Amy looks at the money 
expressionlessly.)

HELEN: (muttering)  Just like your clinic, if you don't *tell* me I can't -- 

AMY: (overhearing)  What??

HELEN: (facing her)  Your clinic.  I would have let you go yesterday if 
I had known about it.

(Amy looks dumbfounded, before putting two and two together.)

AMY:  But instead Joel told you.

HELEN:  I'm glad *someone* did.  Though he didn't know you hadn't said 
anything.  When we were chatting late last night --

AMY: (faint disgust)  About me, behind my back?  What a surprise.

HELEN: (rising anger)  How else can I learn anything about you?!  Sure, I 
open up about *my* deepest, darkest thoughts, but you only tell me what 
you think I should know, when you think I should know it.  I'm sick of 
this double standard.

(She finds the key and points it toward the lock, but Amy restrains her, 
a surge of righteous anger loosening her tongue.)

AMY:  You call that whining you've been doing "opening up"??  You don't 
have a clue what that means.

HELEN: (hard)   Oh?  So enlighten me.

AMY:  It means being *honest* about what you want.  But you, dear Helen, 
never think of what you *really* want -- only how you're affected by 
other people.  How it's for Jake's own good, or that it could harm the 
girls, or it's because of something *I* did to you.  

HELEN:  Yes, how *dare* I think of others besides myself!

AMY:  Which means, when you do something like run to me in blind 
panic at midnight, you don't have *any* idea why you did.

HELEN:  So what's *your* take??

AMY:  That *Helen* realized she's sick of her life and wants to change 
it, but is scared of the consequences.  

HELEN:  That's what you think?

AMY:  It's what I thought.  (challenging.)  Is it really so hard to admit??

(For a moment, Helen is thrown, as she considers possibilities she had 
wanted to keep at bay.  Then her expression hardens.)

HELEN:  Not if that's what I actually felt.  Why did you ever believe 
that??

AMY:  Just...  (righteous anger quickly dissolves.)  Never mind.

(Helen looks at Amy dumbfoundedly for a moment, before pieces of a 
puzzle start sliding into place.)

HELEN:  It's what you *wanted* me to feel... isn't it?  (off Amy's 
flushed, embarrassed reaction.)  Yes, it makes sense now.  The 
way you kept *insisting* that I'm in search of something, how you 
kept bringing up Greg and the kiss, and why you took me to... "lose 
and find" myself...

(Dazedly, Helen stares at Amy.)

HELEN:  You wanted me to leave my husband.     

AMY: I just wanted you to --

HELEN:  You took me to that place to convince me to leave.  (Before 
Amy can speak:)  Why would you do something like that?  (enraged.)  
Have you *any* idea what you were doing?!  

AMY:  Just let me explain, Helen.

HELEN: (wounded)  Amy, I *trusted* you!  I thought we were there to 
share something.  You've never deliberately misled me before.

AMY:  I wasn't trying to hurt you.

HELEN:  Then what *were* you trying to do?!

AMY: (defensive)  Until last night, I just wanted you to feel good 
enough to go *home*.  Then you talked about how bored you were, and 
how your sculpting teacher helped you reach some spiritual epiphany, 
and God help me, I thought maybe returning to the status quo wasn't 
best for you, after all.

HELEN: (sarcastic)  *You* thought.  

AMY: (eyes narrow)  Only that it was what *you* were saying.  
Can you honestly tell me, Helen, that a part of you doesn't want a 
fresh start?  That you felt *nothing* when you kissed that man??  

(Her lawyer face on, Helen looks Amy in the eye.)

HELEN:  I felt nothing.

(Amy gets a frowning, angry expression.)

AMY:  You're lying.

HELEN:  Dammit Amy, why do you keep acting like you have some personal 
stake in this?!

AMY:  Because when people gate-crash my weekend, I like them to leave 
with smiles on their faces and a song in their hearts.

(Helen's angry, wounded look returns, and she sticks her key in the lock.)

AMY: (blurts out)  Because I used to worship you, you know.  It's painful 
to see what you've become.

(This dampens Helen's rage for the moment.  Slowly, she removes the key.)

HELEN:  You worshipped me?  

AMY:  Are you surprised?  Given what I said at the shop?  

HELEN:  No.  (shakes her head.)  I mean yes.  I had no idea. 

AMY:  It wasn't obvious: you had to comb through layers of snark to find 
my true feelings.  (softly bemused.)  The fact that you even deigned to 
love shy little me thrilled me beyond reason.   

(Helen looks at her, not knowing what to say.  Then her face gets a look 
of recognition.)

HELEN: (soft, reflective) I remember... (pointed look.) So what made you stop?   

AMY:  Somewhere along the line you dropped the ball.

HELEN: (sarcastic)  What, I showed I was a human being?

AMY:  I mean your vision narrowed.  (closes her eyes.)  You were so dynamic 
and excited about everything.  You had so much intelligence and hope and 
you just... (scowls, searches for words, settles for) dropped the damn ball.  
 
HELEN:  I settled down.

AMY:  It was before you married.  

HELEN:  Why didn't you ever say anything??  (eyes narrow.)  Why tell me
now?  Wouldn't it have been more helpful, oh, *then*?

AMY:  I didn't think I could do anything.  I didn't think it was my place.  

HELEN:  You've had plenty of chances over the years. 

AMY: (dark expression)  Before long, it was too late.  We'd grown too 
far apart.

(Helen is about to protest, but she realizes the truth of that statement.)

AMY:  It wasn't until we started getting together this past year that 
I even felt some of the old feelings.

HELEN: (filling in the blanks)  Then you saw old photos at Mother's house 
that *really* reminded you.

(Amy nods, looking stunned that Helen knew.)  

AMY:  I just thought they'd be nice to have around.  To remember.  Even 
the ones where I was too *young* to remember, but that you had taken.  
It wasn't until you talked about spirituality last night, that I saw a 
glimmer of the "old" you.

HELEN: (softly)  So a part of you has been waiting for me to have a 
personal crisis?

AMY:  Not a crisis -- just for you to fulfill your potential.  Open up, 
get excited, shine that big ol' beam of light on the rest of us poor 
miserable saps.  Make me feel... (doesn't finish.)  

(Helen is tired and at a momentary loss for words.  What Amy said in the 
shop connects perfectly with what she is saying now.  Then something else 
occurs to Helen.)
     
HELEN:  You've been hoping for more than just a bonding moment, haven't 
you? 

(Pause.  Then Amy nods, resigned.)

AMY:  Like you, I've been in a rut.  I don't know whether it's something 
new, or just a deepening of the rut I've always been in.  

(Helen raises a brow, faint concern intermixing with her lingering 
anger.)

AMY:  Joel suggested I go to some damn aptitude clinic, like that would 
solve everything.

HELEN:  I'm sure he just wanted to help.

AMY:  I'm sure he did, too.  It's just... (shakes her head.)  When I first 
heard  about your problems, it felt good to get some perspective.  And 
then, when you brought up spirituality...

(Beat)

HELEN: (finishing)  You wanted to find it, too.
  
(Meanwhile, cut to shot of Joel, back up in the apartment.  He's just 
emerged from the bedroom, his hair rumpled as though he's been tossing 
and turning some more in bed.  His dazed expression and his bloodshot 
eyes tell us he has not slept.  In one hand he holds the cordless 
phone.  He looks at it as though he forgot it was there, and his 
expression darkens.  He moves to go back into the room and put it 
on the cradle, when he spies the guest room ajar.)

(Cut to shot of Joel peaking in the guest room.  From his perspective, 
it is a godawful mess, except for the bed, which Helen made.  Every 
corner is stuffed with odds and ends that have not been put up or 
thrown out.  Joel's eyes narrow, and he moves with determined strides 
as though bent on making it his Sunday project to clean everything up.  
Putting the phone under one arm, he grabs an old lamp, a bar bell, 
an old radio, and the handcuffs, which he stares at for a beat.  He 
tries to push the exercise bike out of the way of more junk, when he 
loses his grip and everything comes crashing down.  Angry, Joel bangs 
his fist against the wall.) 

(Resume shot of Amy and Helen.  Helen is now leaning against the side 
of her SUV, feeling emotionally burnt-out.)

AMY: (quiet)  I'm not a religious person... but I do know that there's 
something inside me that I'm missing.  (tilts her face away as it briefly 
shows the anguish that she's feeling.)  I'm sorry if I came on a little 
strong earlier.

HELEN:  I'm not sure I'd know what to tell you anyway.

AMY:  I was more hoping you would *show* me.

HELEN:  At the very worst, it seems you might need to see a doctor.

AMY:  A doctor?? (scowling.)  I'm not sick and I am *not* depressed.

HELEN:  I'm not saying you are, but talking to someone always --

AMY: (curt)  Forget it, Helen.

HELEN: (surprised)  *Amy*.

AMY:  I don't need any outside treatment!

HELEN: (flaring up)  Oh, but you're *fine* with living vicariously through 
your sister, are you?!  

AMY: (startled)  That's not what I've been doing.

HELEN:  What *else*, then??  Pushing me in certain directions, hoping to 
learn from the results.  All because you think that like some science 
class nerd, I've got all the answers, and you can just copy.  Because 
you're too stubborn or too scared to find your own inspiration.  

(Amy's cheeks redden at Helen's words.)  

HELEN:  That's great for *you* -- but what about my family??

AMY:  Your family?

HELEN:  Did you even *think* about this could hurt Daria and Quinn?  
Your nieces who love and admire you??

AMY: (flustered)  I would never hurt them.  I wasn't even thinking 
about them when I --

HELEN:  Suggested I run off with my sculpting instructor?!

AMY:  *I* never suggested that.  You did.    

HELEN:  No I didn't!

AMY: (eyes flashing)  I said to *consider* what that kiss really meant 
to you, and to not turn your back on any spiritual growth.  You said I 
wanted you to run off.  *You* suggested it. 

HELEN:  But I *know* you --  

AMY:  Don't you get it now, Helen, why you need to know what you 
really want??  If this is some repressed desire to be with Greg talking, 
you'd better admit it *soon* so you can spare your family a lot of pain. 
Because no matter what -- 

HELEN:  Go to hell.

(Helen regrets these words as soon as she says them, but is too angry to 
take them back.  She unlocks her car door and opens it.  For Amy, the 
words cause something inside her to snap.  Her face turns a vivid 
shade of red, as the murky rage she felt earlier takes on startling 
clarity.)

AMY:  Fine, I will.  And you can just pretend that everything will go 
back to normal.  Bend your home life to your will, paying lip service 
to your loved ones' needs while not caring how you harm them, which 
you're so good at.   

HELEN:  Don't you dare say another word about them.  Whether or not you 
told me to be with Greg, what you suggested was *more* than enough to 
threaten my home life.

AMY: (dark)  I think *you're* enough to threaten your home life.

(Helen opens her mouth to speak, but Amy cuts her off.)

AMY:  I can't believe I didn't see it sooner.  That I thought your good 
qualities were so much stronger than your bad ones.  Before you even 
mentioned Dad, I should have seen --

HELEN:  What does he have to do with this?! (recalls the conversation in 
the car.)  *Oh* if you mean that stupid bit about me wishing you'd be 
a girl --

AMY:  I suffered for years.  You don't even know!  To Dad, I was 
just this *mistake*.  I felt so worthless.

HELEN: (unmoved)  Oh you poor baby, well guess what?!  It wasn't my 
fault you were born a girl.

AMY:  But you had to have known what would happen.  The huge letdown, 
the bitterness he felt... you had to have known, at least a little.

HELEN: (flash of guilt)  I was a *child*.  (more conviction.)  And one 
little wish still doesn't compare with what *you* suggest-- 

AMY:  All you cared about was that it wasn't you.  (disbelief.)  I  
loved you so much, and that whole time... (Her words die out and she 
squeezes her eyes shut.)

HELEN: (more sober)  I never wanted you to suffer.

AMY:  To this day, Helen, it's stayed with me.  Everything I've been 
feeling lately... (anguished.) and you were *happy*.    

HELEN:  Amy, I loved you!  For God's sake, you built me up so much -- 
of course I was bound to fail you somehow.  (A look of regret crosses 
her face.)  But your problems are *not* my fault and don't you dare 
say they are!

AMY:  Oh no, won't try to out-do you in *that* department. (eyes 
narrow.)  You were a selfish kid, and you are a sad adult.  

HELEN:  And what about *you*?  Beauty, brains, Princeton education, loving 
boyfriend, and you can't even lift yourself out of a simple malaise??

AMY: (on her own track)  Even the purpose of this visit wasn't to be with 
me.  It was selfish and convenient -- like all your other attempts to 
communicate this past year.      
 
HELEN:  As if you've tried any harder!   

AMY:   You would do anything to not look inside yourself and see that 
there's something ugly.  

HELEN:  And *you*, Amy Barksdale, are so convinced you're the martyr --
 well I don't buy it!  Martyrs are victims, and whether you like it or 
not, you *have* some control over your life.  

(Having said her piece, Amy stands there red-cheeked and a little 
nauseous from the gush of emotion.)

HELEN:  Other people have suffered besides you.  Your *boyfriend* had a 
rough childhood, but he made something of himself!

(Hearing this, Amy's eyes narrow.)

HELEN:  But no, all your gifts and you choose to do nothing.  Except 
build vain little fantasies about being rescued.  *You're* the one 
who's dropped the ball, Amy!  

(Amy now turns her face to the side, absorbing Helen's words.)

HELEN:  And just when I feel ashamed of calling you a bad role model 
for my girls, it's times like this I know exactly why I did!

AMY:  ENOUGH!

(Her last word rises up in a very un-Amy like wail, causing Helen to 
draw back and look at her with a shocked gaze, realizing that she's 
gone one step too far.  Anxiety and remorse wash over her.  Amy's 
face is now completely red and she is shaking imperceptibly.  Helen 
looks at her, sees the pain she's caused, and knows that this could 
damage their relationship for good.  Yet she feels as though she
doesn't know how to take back the things she said, or if she even 
wants to.  After a long beat, Helen turns and climbs up into the 
driver's seat of her car.  Amy stands there, seemingly lost in her 
thoughts.  Before Helen shuts the door:)

AMY: (softly)  If you go home, you'll just wreck everything.  You're a 
selfish person at heart, Helen.  You'll twist everything so that it goes 
your way, whether you mean to or not.

(Helen frowns darkly, then looks at her sister for one last beat before 
shutting the car door.)



****************
END OF ACT TWO

[Shot of Jane talking to Quinn, followed by shot of Helen and Amy 
driving along the coast, followed by shot of Daria, Quinn, and 
Jake in the living room, followed by shot of Joel losing his 
balance and dropping junk in the guest room.]

***You are now entering commercial *HELL*.  Please keep your seatbelt 
securely fastened.  You are about to see some of the lamest commercials 
put on television.***

1) Some men aren't made for 49 cent Tuesdays.  Try the *six dollar* 
burger??  Rarely have I seen such a blatant attempt to screw people 
out of money as this ad from Carl's Jr. or Jack in the Box (can't 
remember which, and really, does it matter?).  Sad part is, it will 
probably work.  But goodness: no women aren't made for 49 cent Tuesdays?  
Equal opportunity screwing, Carl's in the Box! 

2) The ALF phone commercials.  ALF... NOOOOO!!  Childhood... nightmares... 
returning!

3) And finally, in honor of "Daria's" new home, Noggin: the "Daria" 
clips they use to advertise the show's return to T.V. in July.  Overall, 
it's great to see Our Heroine again, and her quips are funny.  In one she 
says: "Really, does the world need another zany dad on television?" Cue 
a Jake ranting clip from "The Lawndale File."  Daria: "Apparently so."  
She also has quips for Helen, Quinn, and Kevin and Brittany.  There's 
also a separate clip from "See Jane Run," with Jane, Daria, and Ms. Morris.  
My problem is that these promos are shown so frequently (YEAH!), and 
they're always the *same*.  It would help if they mixed it up with 
different clips from the show, so people wouldn't get tired of them.

And Noggin: "Daria" fans are grateful that you gave our favorite show a 
second lease on life.  But that doesn't mean we'll stand by clapping if 
you butcher parts of the episodes.  In other words: if you bleep out the 
word "ass," I'm gonna get medieval on YOUR ass!!! 

***You are now leaving commercial *HELL*. Aren't you happy you survived?***


ACT THREE

SCENE 1 (Morgendorffer residence, mid-afternoon) 

(Shot of the outside.)

DARIA: (OS)  All right, perhaps I *have* been too negative.

(Cut to shot of her and Jane in her room, where they have been for 
the past hour, since Daria and Quinn spoke to Jake.)

JANE:  Really?  I was blinded by the perkiness.

DARIA:  So it's not such a bad idea to help Dad regain his 
confidence.  He obviously needs it, as will Mom if she hasn't 
gotten her head together after her trip.

JANE:  Good point.  So what do you suggest?

DARIA:  To avoid teaching him to be a Casanova, for one.  By the 
time Mom returns, he'll have forgotten half of what he's learned, 
and the rest will have been bungled in the translation.  

JANE:  No doubt making things worse than before.

DARIA:  You'd have a new roommate on your hands.  

(She stands up, walks over to her computer desk.) 

DARIA:  I won't try for a miracle, but with a little exploring, 
I may find an approach that could be halfway useful, maybe even 
remotely effective.    

JANE: (encouraging)  Great!  Anything that keeps your sinuses in 
your *own* room is a plus in my book.

(Daria shoots her a death glare.  Jane smirks.)

(Cut to shot of Jake and Quinn in the living room.  Quinn sits 
on the couch, by now looking worn out.  The time spent with Jake 
has sapped her patience, but something else is causing her to 
frown with concern.)  

QUINN:  Hey, Dad?  (tries to muster enthusiasm.)  Do you want 
to give Mom a call?  You know, to find out when she'll be back.  

JAKE:  Oh no, that's okay.  But *you* can if you want.

QUINN:  But it'd be a good way for you to practice the skills 
you've learned, don't you think?

(Jake pales a little, then tries to chuckle it off.)

JAKE:  Oh, well... I don't want to show off right away.  

QUINN:  Come on, don't be scared.

JAKE:  I'm *not*, honey.  But just the same, I'll wait 'til she 
gets home.

QUINN:  But Dad, I really think --

JAKE:  *DAMMIT* Quinn, I don't *want* to talk to your mother, all 
right?!!

(Quinn goes wide-eyed at his tone.  Jake immediately looks sorry.)

QUINN:  But I thought...

JAKE:  I mean not right this moment. (tries to chuckle.)  I mean 
there are some things that I still need to go over, that you'll 
help me with, right sweetie?  Like learning to keep my head up 
during the *whole* conversation and not fall asleep.

(Quinn nods slowly.  Jake starts going through the scattered notes 
he's taken.  When he's immersed in them enough that he's not paying 
attention, Quinn quietly stands up and leaves the room.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 2 (Amy's residence, later afternoon)

(It's been a couple of hours since Helen left, and Amy and Joel are 
on the living room couch.  *Sitting* this time, curled up together 
in front of the tube.  You get the feeling that if Helen hadn't come, 
this is what they would have done most of the weekend.  Amy tries her 
best to push the fight with Helen out of her mind, with little success.  
The last few exchanges keep replaying themselves.  She takes comfort in 
Joel's nearness, his arm around her.  Yet Joel, himself, seems distant.  
His eyes are still bloodshot and tired, and his face is grim, all of w
hich Amy does not fail to notice.)

AMY: (warm)  Hey, stranger.  (She reaches up and runs her hand along 
the back of his head.)  What were you doing when you *didn't* take a 
nap like you should have?

JOEL: (shrugs vaguely)  Didn't pay bills.  Didn't fix the dish 
washer.  Didn't shop for food.

AMY:  At least you were productive. (looks at him critically.)  
But you look exhausted.  You're going to bed early tonight.

JOEL: (affection seeping into tone)  Yes m'am.  

(As Amy settles against him once again, he glances at her, noting the 
her flushed cheeks and a faint puffiness around her eyes.)

JOEL:  And how did things go with Big Sis?

AMY: (pained expression)  I can't talk about it.

(Joel opts not to press; clearly it didn't go well.  As moments 
pass, and Amy gazes blankly at the screen, he changes his mind.)  

JOEL:  I don't know.  Maybe we should talk about it.

(Amy looks at him as though he's suggested she be flogged.)

AMY:  When we're watching this great show?  I really like... whatever 
the hell they're trying to do.  (squints at the screen.)  Those 
are either aliens or door-to-door salesmen, right?

JOEL:  I think we have to talk about it.

AMY:  Oh why fool myself: this is drek.  Let's never watch another 
show with my name in the title again.

JOEL:  Come on, Amy.

AMY:  Like that one.

(Joel looks at her.)
  
AMY: (hard tone)  Why should *we* talk about it, Joel?

JOEL:  Because it has to do with why I couldn't sleep earlier.  (Amy 
looks at him expectantly.)  The phone woke me up.  It was your niece.   

AMY:  Daria?

JOEL:  The one with the high-pitched voice.

AMY:  Quinn. (Bt)  What did she want?

JOEL:  Just to know what her mom was doing.  Said things were 
pretty frantic at home.

(Amy gets a look of guilt and concern.)

JOEL:  She kept freaking out about how she didn't want her parents to 
divorce.

AMY:  She can be melodramatic.  

JOEL:  Does she have a reason to worry?

AMY: (subdued)  Damned if I know.  (realizing what Joel alludes to.)  
If she does, it's not because of anything *I* did.

JOEL:  So your plan to get Helen to "do what she really wants" 
didn't pan out, huh?

(Amy scowls, feeling that Joel is throwing it in her face.)

AMY:  No it didn't.  Try not to sound so upset.

JOEL: (scowl)  Try giving me some credit.  I'm not asking if you 
wanted to break up the marriage. I... I'm just feeling on edge.  A kid 
waxing anxious into the phone for twenty minutes does that to you. 

AMY: (sincere)  Sorry.

JOEL:  Especially if you can remember some of what she felt.

AMY:  Doubly sorry.  (reaches over, squeezes his hand.)

JOEL: (quiet)  But knowing Helen *and* her husband: you think they 
should break up?

(Amy looks at him, searching for any underlying motives.  She 
finally looks down and sighs.)

AMY:  I don't know.  Until a few hours ago, I did think she was too 
good for Jake.  Now I'd say she's lucky to have anyone who walks 
upright.

JOEL: (cheeks flushing)  Well that's encouraging.  I guess.

AMY:  What *I* think means little at this point, anyway, since she's 
on her way home to patch things up.

JOEL:  So everything's fine, then.

AMY: (quiet)  Everything's fine.

(They refocus their attention on the program, but Amy can feel 
Joel's distance.)

AMY:  Everything *isn't* fine.  You've been acting strangely toward 
me since this morning. 

JOEL:  What do you mean?

AMY:  You know what I mean.  Now if you could tell *me*, I would much 
appreciate it.

(Joel considers for a moment or two.)

JOEL:  Fine.  Okay.  Fine.

AMY:  Dandy.

(He turns to face Amy with grim resolve.)

JOEL:  I don't think you set out to bust up your sister's marriage.  
But I do think that when you talked about "Helen," you meant yourself.  
You're the one who "wants" something.  (pained.)  Or possibly *someone*.   

(Amy stares at him for a moment before circling her arms around his neck.)

AMY:  The only "someone" I want is *you*.

JOEL: (lays her arms down)  Then why is the guest room still stuffed 
with loose crap?  Why does the living room look like it belongs to someone 
with a split personality disorder??  I didn't move in yesterday.

AMY:  So furniture hasn't been a top priority. (pointed.)  For either 
of us.  Pardon me if I'm still learning to share my space.

JOEL:  But new furniture means a next step, and so far I'm the only 
one who's brought it up.  I know you, Amy: even your magazines have to 
match the color scheme.  *This* isn't natural for you.

AMY: (frowning)  If you're so concerned, let's hop in the car, or 
whatever, and do some bargain-hunting.  We have the rest of today 
and tomorrow --

JOEL: (blurts out)  I just want to know if that means you plan to 
turn me and my furniture out the door.    

AMY:  What??

JOEL:  Have you ever thought of it?
 
AMY: (now angry)  Oh fuck you.

JOEL:  Look, I had to say it, I'm sorry.

AMY:  If you have so little faith in me...

JOEL: (undeterred)  When you broke it off the first time, you were in 
this discontented mood.  Now for the past several months, you've been 
a similar mood --

AMY:  So naturally that spells doom. (glares.)  I'm sorry, honey: I'll 
try not to have "moods" anymore.

JOEL:  Can you blame me for thinking the worst??  After what happened 
before, and the way you act like you don't want my help.  Then  you kept 
Helen from going home to her husband --

AMY: (angry)  And it was really all about you.  Good work, Sherlock, 
you've found all my hidden clues, even a few that don't exist. 

JOEL: (weary)  A part of me just has trouble believing that you weren't 
happier single.  And that you'll confess this "fact" to me right before 
we become too settled.

(Amy looks away and stares at the T.V. screen, not seeing it.)

AMY:  Just when this day couldn't get any worse.

JOEL:  I need to know where you stand, that's all.  

AMY:  Where I "stand," Joel Silverman... (turns to face him.) is that 
since you moved in, I haven't had a single thought about breaking up 
with you -- until now.  I'm just a little hurt you couldn't find 
a way to broach the subject without blindsiding me with a worst 
case scenario.

(After hearing Amy's vow of commitment, Joel looks a little mollified.)

JOEL:  I don't see how I could have.  We're not talking about 
celebrating an anniversary.  You don't... we don't... talk about the 
sore subjects.  When they come up, you either trivialize them with 
some sarcastic quip, or blow them off completely.  
  
AMY:  Which again must mean I don't take our relationship seriously.  
(Bt)  But what about you?

JOEL:  Me?

AMY:  I don't see you going out of your way.  Could it be that this 
litany of complaints is just a cover for your *own* escape??

JOEL: (looks her in the eye)  No it is not.

AMY: (angry, injured)  Oh come on, now: the thought must have crossed 
your mind.  How good it would feel to have a spunky, dynamic girlfriend,   
instead of a closed in, moody one who makes you walk on eggshells.  
Someone perfect for Mr. Perfect.

JOEL:  Excuse me?

AMY:  Mr. Can-Do, Fix-It, Know-All who pulled himself up by the 
bootstraps he probably made himself.  Full scholarship to M.I.T.  
Award-winning musician.  Guide dog for the computer blind.  Even 
Helen could see the gap between us; don't tell me you can't.

JOEL:  I never once said you had to please me with a bunch of 
accomplishments.

AMY:  That hasn't stopped me from feeling like I need to.  I try 
to tell myself to live with it, that people all have their strengths 
and weaknesses, but sometimes I can't.  I just can't.
 
(Joel looks at her with an expression of astonishment and curiosity.  
Amy looks back at him, the adrenaline rushing through her making her 
feel tired and sick.  She presses her hands to her forehead as though 
suffering from a migraine.)

AMY:  Ugh, I can't do this anymore.  I've had too much "Days of 
Our Lives" for one day.  (almost pleading.)  If you still want to 
fight, please just wait until I've taken a bath, okay?

(She stands up.  Joel tries to touch her arm.)

JOEL:  Amy...

AMY:  Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get caught in an undertow and be 
sucked down the drain.  

(cut to: )

SCENE 3 (interstate freeway, that same time)

(Shot of Helen's SUV, speeding along in the fast lane, tailgating and 
changing lanes to pass the slower cars.)

ELVIS: (VO)  
			Every sweet thing that mattered
                        Has been broken in two
                        All my dreams have been shattered
                        How's the world treating you?


(Cut to shot of the inside.  Elvis continues to croon from the CD player 
as Helen clutches the steering wheel, gazing straight ahead.  Amy's 
words have left an impact on her, for she looks as though she's using all 
of her energy to keep from crying.  She finally turns off the CD player 
and drives in silence, and when the SUV slows at a weekend traffic 
jam, she breaks down a little, letting the tears flow down her face 
unabated.  She sinks lower in her seat, allows her arms to slacken.  
The expression on her face is conflicted.  Should she believe Amy, or 
assume that it was all said out of spite?)

(Helen finally reaches for her cell, lying on the passenger seat.  She 
groans when she sees that it has been accidentally shut off.)

HELEN: (muttering)  *Great*, just great.  Don't even *let* them 
get in touch with you.  

(Once turned it on, the phone reveals a message, which Helen eagerly 
listens to.  It could be one of the girls, or Jake.  Or Amy.  But instead --)

GREG: (VO)  Well hi there, Helen, it's Greg Valmont calling.  I see 
according to my call log that  you phoned on Friday.  Sorry I haven't 
had a chance to get back to you, I was helping out with a show yesterday.  

(Helen gets an expression of shock.  It's as though repeated invocations 
of his name have conjured up the man out of thin air.  She then recalls 
her attempt to phone Greg, blanching as she remembers that he answered 
and she hung up on him.  What he must think of her.)

GREG: (slightly awkward)  Anyway, I would like to talk to you again.  
In fact I'd like you to come over.  I have your sculptures at my house 
-- you left the class and never reclaimed them, and I didn't want them 
to be tossed out.  So when you get the chance, give me a call back, and 
we can arrange...

(To this, and what is left of the message, Helen listens soberly.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 4 (Morgendorffer residence, that same time)

(Close-up shot of Daria sitting at her computer, with Jane leaning 
over her.  They've been net-surfing this entire time, and are 
gazing at the screen, which we cannot see, with repulsed expressions.)  

JANE:  *Yeesh*!

DARIA:  Ugh!

JANE:  Retch.

DARIA:  Snorf.  (Jane looks at her funny.)  Just felt like saying that.

JANE:  My *God*, how many sexual testimonials *are* there?

DARIA:  I think my blindness is complete now.

JANE:  Is there a local dry cleaner that does eyeballs?

(Daria kills the browser window and looks at a stack of papers that 
have already been printed.)

DARIA:  Okay, that one sucked, but at least the other sites we went to 
had useful info. (flips through.)  Boosting self-esteem... listening when 
your inner child tells you to quit whining and be an adult... 

JANE:  Therapy groups that aren't the offshoots of some yuppy cult...  

DARIA:  Maybe if I broach one or two of these on my dad, he'll --
  
QUINN: (OS)  Forget it.  It won't work.

(Daria and Jane turn, startled, to find Quinn in the doorway.  She's shrunk 
back a little, partially out of view, as if reluctant to expose herself 
to any derisive comments.) 

DARIA:  Why not?

QUINN: (flat)  Because Dad's hiding something.

(Daria looks at her for a beat.  She lays the papers aside.)

DARIA: (low voice)  You can tell, too?

(Quinn edges her way into the room, shutting the door part way.)

QUINN: (nods)  My background has made me sensitive to little shifts 
in body movement.  One shoulder higher than the other: "Oh God, I hope 
she never finds out I forgot our two-week anniversary!"  A raised 
eyebrow: "Will I get to second base, or will I have to crawl home 
from our date?"

DARIA:  A twitching nose: "Can someone remove this wayward mosquito?"

QUINN:  But in Dad's case (face falls.) he keeps stumbling over words 
and laughing weird.  And he acts like he doesn't want to see Mom.    

(Daria's face is weary, and she and Quinn share a look.  They know 
that things are sliding toward worse, not better.  And though they 
still nurse resentments toward one another, they realize it's time 
for an unspoken truce so they can focus on the bigger problem.  
Daria's face takes on a steely expression.)

DARIA:  All right: Daria Morgendorffer has played hide and no seek 
long enough.

QUINN:  Huh?

DARIA:  This whole weekend I've avoided confronting Dad unless 
absolutely pushed into it.  No more.  (She stands up.)  I want to 
settle this thing, even if that means a result we didn't want.

QUINN: (a little unnerved)  You're going downstairs?  Now?

DARIA:  You coming with me, or are you staying here?  

QUINN: (quiet)  I can't go back down there.

DARIA:  But you were just there.

QUINN:  But that was when I didn't know.  Now that I think I *do* 
know, I don't... want to know.

DARIA: (sympathetic deadpan)  That's your choice.  You can stay with 
Jane, then.

JANE:  Actually Jane is gonna take this opportunity to bail.

DARIA: (now a bit unnerved herself)  You're leaving *now*??

JANE:  It looks like your parents' crisis has taken a turn toward the 
*way* too personal, and should really be kept within your family.  

DARIA:  But you know almost as many personal secrets as me and Quinn.

JANE:  Well there comes a time when you've got to say enough is 
*too* much.  (Bt, concerned.)  Unless, y'know, you still feel like you 
*need* me to stay.

(Daria thinks for a few beats, before shaking her head.)

DARIA: (sincere)  No, I think we'll be fine on our own.  You've 
been a big help, though.

QUINN:  Yeah.

JANE: (sympathetic)  Call me if you need to spill your guts.  Trust 
me, I'm weak.  I really *do* want to know how it turns out.

(She opens the door and is part way through when she turns around.)

JANE:  And remember, Luke: use the force.

DARIA:  You just had to wreck it with a cliche, didn't you?

(Jane waves at them.  Then Daria looks at Quinn and heads toward the 
door as well.  After a beat, Quinn follows.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 5 (kitchen, minutes later)

(Jake is hunting through the fridge, looking for dinner-making ingredients.  
On the table are several scattered notepads and crumpled papers.  Suddenly, 
Daria steps on screen in the foreground, her back to us.) 

JAKE:  Well hi, kiddo, was that your friend who just...? 

(His words die when he sees her face.)

DARIA:  Dad, tell us the truth.

JAKE:  What do you mean?

DARIA:  The truth.  You've been hiding something, and we want to know what.

JAKE: (forced laughter)  Ah, kiddo, I don't --

DARIA:  Want to hurt us?  Been there, heard that.

JAKE: (ashen face)  Daria...

DARIA: (hard look)  Besides: it's too late.

(Jake closes the refrigerator slowly and looks at Daria standing a few 
feet away.  Then at Quinn, who is taking a seat at the kitchen table, 
looking apologetic for "jumping on him" so soon after she was trying to 
help.  His face takes on a slightly sick expression.) 
 
JAKE:  Girls, I-I *can't*.  I can't tell you. 

DARIA:  Why *not*?!  (She says it with far more anger than intended, 
letting her disgust for the past two days completely show.)  It's none 
of our business??  It's our damn house, Dad.  It's you and Mom, our 
parents, our family, our future, and we have every right to know what's 
happening.  If you really loved us, you would tell us.

JAKE: (hurt)  You... but girls, I *do* love you!

DARIA:  Then tell us what's going on.  

JAKE: (pained whimper)  But if I tell you... that means it's true. 

DARIA & QUINN:  What is?

(Pause)

JAKE: (small voice)  That I've met someone.

(Daria and Quinn don't react, but both grow noticeably paler.  A heavy 
silence follows, until Daria manages to speak in a voice that sounds 
strangely high.)

DARIA:  Who? 

JAKE:  A student in my class. (strained chuckle.)  See girls?  They're 
not *all* men. 

(This produces no reaction from his daughters.  The blood rushes to 
Daria's head, and she shakes it as though trying to rouse herself  
from a trance.)

DARIA:  But how?  We never saw *anything*...

JAKE: (babbles nervously)  That's because it's not a big deal.  It's 
not, *really*!  I mean sure, the way I first said it made it *sound* 
like a big deal, but you just caught me off guard --

DARIA:  Does Mom know?

JAKE:  Um, no.  She doesn't.  

DARIA: (closes her eyes)  Of course she doesn't.
   
JAKE:  Kiddo, it's completely innocent!  She's just a friend -- a 
*student* friend, more of a student than a friend!  I've just met her a 
few times after class, for coffee or a beer.  Innocent!

DARIA:  And you were going to tell Mom any day now.

JAKE:  Of *course*!  Um...

DARIA: (numbly)  Or bring her over so we could meet her, or talk to 
her on the phone, or mention her existence -- 

JAKE: (anger, panic)  *Dammit* Daria, why are you making it sound 
worse than it is?!

DARIA: (current of fear)  Because just maybe it *is* worse?  

JAKE:  How would *you* know!  You're just a kid!  You wouldn't understand 
these things!

DARIA: (eyes narrow)  Not understand that our father's been lying??  Not 
understand that the more we talk about it, the more you get defensive??
God, stop insulting us!

JAKE:  I'm *not* --

DARIA:  It's bad enough you're putting us through this.  At least respect 
that we've got functioning brains!  If not yourself.

(Jake is about to retort, when he sees Quinn, who has been quiet, get 
a look of devastation and turn to face the other way.  He looks back 
and forth between his daughters and, with a pang, realizes he can't fool 
them, or himself, any longer.)

JAKE:  All right.

DARIA:  All right *what*??

JAKE: (more subdued)  All right.  If it means so much to you, I'll stop 
seeing this woman.  I was going to, anyway.

DARIA:  Then why haven't you done it already??

JAKE: (miserable)  It would have meant giving up teaching.  Tutoring 
Quinn was so much fun, I was just glad to get another chance.  

DARIA:  And you couldn't have taught at one of countless other locations.  
Unless there are female students *there*, too --

JAKE: (rushed, nervous)  Please, kiddo, listen!  I didn't know.  What I 
told you last night was *true*.  My students liked me, I liked them.  It 
was so nice not to be made fun of, I didn't realize what was happening. 
Until it was too late.

(Jake slumps against the counter.  Daria remains rigid in the middle of 
the room, scared of every question she asks, but needing to probe further  
Quinn gazes at the sliding glass door, dejected.)

JAKE:  Please, girls, I didn't *mean* for this to happen.  I *love* your 
mother!  I love our family, and all I've wanted is for things to be back 
to normal. 

DARIA: (low voice)  Are you going to tell Mom?

JAKE: (pales)  I'm just afraid she'll get too upset.

DARIA:  Were you *ever* going to tell her?

JAKE: (soft)  I-I wanted to figure out how to talk to her first.

(He goes over to where Quinn is sitting, tries to get her to look at him.)

JAKE:  You see, sweetie, I really *did* need all that help you gave me.  
(Pause)  Sweetie...?

(He touches her shoulder, and Quinn spins around to look at him, eyes 
blazing.  She jerks her shoulder away, takes one of the notebooks on 
the table and rips out the pages, which she then tears to shreds.  
She stands up and flings the shreds at Jake, then grabs the notebooks 
and hurls them at him.  Jake manages to block one before it can hit 
his face.  Quinn then shoves him in the chest on her way out of the 
room, and is gone in a whirlwind of tears and rage.  The whole thing 
lasts less than thirty seconds, but has a definite impact on Jake.  
He slumps into a chair and stares forlornly at the table top.)

DARIA: (flat)  Damn.  Now it'll just be copying when I do it.

(She's about to follow Quinn out of the room, when Jake puts up a 
hand to stop.)

JAKE:  Daria... please.  Don't go.

DARIA: (angry)  If you expect me to forgive you --

JAKE:  *No*.  At least... 

DARIA:  What hurts most is that because of *her*, you shielded a whole 
part of your life from us.  *She's* the reason you didn't tell us where 
you went at night, isn't she?  Not because you were scared we'd catch 
you teaching.

JAKE: (low voice)  It started being about teaching...

DARIA: (angrier)  *She* gets to see the side of you that's smart and 
interesting and a good person.  *We* get the clueless jerk who's never 
around.  And to think we were proud of you last night... 

(This last sentence is the most bitter pill for Jake to swallow.)

JAKE:  Daria... I know I've messed up.  Please... just let me know how 
I can make it up to you.

(Daria looks at him, not wanting to spend another minute in the same 
room -- certainly not to make him feel better.  Then she considers 
that this would ultimately be in her and Quinn's best interest.)

DARIA: (looks him in the eye)  First tell Mom what you've done.

(Jake considers this for several beats, before nodding slowly.)

DARIA:  Second, answer this.  Why are adults such idiots? 

JAKE:  Huh??

DARIA:  You've had thirty more years on the planet, plenty of time to 
work through the chips on your shoulder and the hang-ups that keep 
you down.  But instead, like busted wind-up toys, you just perform 
the same stupid tricks.

(She walks over to the table and stands across from Jake.)

DARIA:  I've been told time and again that no one is perfect, but 
what excuse is there for you to be *this* imperfect??

(After a long beat, Jake speaks.)

JAKE:  There isn't an excuse.  We just *are* idiots.  Some more than 
others.  (pats his chest.)  Most of the time, living doesn't make 
you wiser... it just makes you older.   

(His response isn't what Daria wanted to hear, though she didn't expect 
him to say anything she did want to hear at this point.  Her eyes narrow.)

DARIA:  Sounds like a cop-out if you ask me.  You *could* act better 
if you wanted.  At least I hope so.  (wave of fear.)  I *won't* grow 
up to be like that.

JAKE: (morose)  Aw kiddo, you're so good at seeing how things could turn 
out before they happen, you probably *won't* make half the mistakes other 
grown-ups do.  But that doesn't mean there won't be a time when you hurt 
someone without meaning to.  

(To this Daria tries not to listen, though she can't deny Jake's logic.)

JAKE:  And when that happens, you just hope you can find a way to make 
amends. (quiet.)  Hope that the people you love are bigger than you are.

(fade-out.  fade-in to: )

SCENE 6 (Amy's residence, later)
     
(Amy sits on the bed, robed and toweling off the ends of her hair.  Slowly 
the door opens, and Joel walks in.  He and Amy stare at each other for a 
long time.  Both wear guarded, remorseful expressions.)

JOEL: (finally, subdued)  I didn't come in here to fight.

(Pause)

AMY:  Good.

(Joel moves slowly toward the bed and stands beside it, as if unsure of 
whether he's welcome to sit down.  After a beat, Amy pats the place 
beside her.  Joel sits, and they continue to look at each other.)

AMY: I...

JOEL: (at the same time)  I'm sorry I didn't trust you.  I should have 
known better.  (shakes his head.)  I -- it wasn't you.  It was what 
I came from, and I was just projecting.  I was being a complete asshole.

AMY:  No you weren't.  (Bt)  Well you were, but so was I, a little.

(Joel brushes his hand against Amy's cheek, and Amy leans forward 
and wraps both arms around him. They hold each other tightly.)

AMY:  Dammit, Joel, I love you.  Don't ever doubt that.

(Joel rubs his cheek against her hair.)

JOEL:  I love you, too.  So much I can't stand it, sometimes.

(They continue to hug in silence for several more beats, before pulling 
apart, almost reluctantly.)

AMY:  So now what?

(Joel considers for a few moments, groans and shakes his head.  He 
then glances at Amy's robe and playfully nods toward the bed.  Amy 
lightly slaps him on the cheek.)

JOEL:  Just trying to lighten the mood.

(Amy smirks, suggesting that it worked.)

AMY:  We've obviously got problems to work through.  (more serious.)  
Starting with communication.

JOEL:  I could have sworn we've done this before.

AMY:  It's like one of those nasty weeds you keep having to pump 
full of poison.  (reddens.)  Not the best comparison.

(Joel takes Amy's hand, squeezes it.)

JOEL: (awkward)  I didn't know you felt inferior to me.  Whenever you 
made those Mr. Perfect comments, I assumed you were being... how you are 
with everyone.

AMY: (softly)  You never said anything, but I thought: how could you 
*not* feel that way?  You're the one who's always got something going 
on, who likes to try new things.     

JOEL:  So do you.

AMY: (almost angry)  No I *don't*.  I can recall exactly *two* challenges 
I've undertaken alone.  Joining an all-girl punk band during my 
"piss my parents off as much as possible" college phase, and buying 
a red Spitfire instead of a black one.   

JOEL:  A wise choice.

AMY:  I thought so.

JOEL:  So tell me: does this have anything to do with your rut?  Were 
you, like, so distraught I would up and leave you, you got depressed?  

(Amy's eyes shift away a little, in thought.)

AMY:  No. (recalls her fight with Helen.)  Not completely.  It's hard 
to explain, but since we got back together, I was feeling happier than 
I'd felt for quite some time.  Great love, great sex, and while the job 
wasn't great, it didn't suck either.

JOEL:  So what happened?

AMY:  I started to doubt myself.  Wondered why *I* deserved to be 
happy, what I had done to make it so.  And I came up empty.  I'd 
done nothing.  (closes her eyes.)  My whole life I've just fallen 
into every opportunity that's been laid out for me, just like Hel...     

JOEL:  Not from where I'm standing.

AMY: (to herself)  I avoid putting myself out there -- first because 
of my father, then to be different from my sisters, until finally 
I just never learned how.  (looks at Joel.)  You should always, 
*always* be proud of what you've accomplished.  But sometimes I feel 
like you're a mirror held up to my face, revealing all of my 
wasted potential.

(Joel looks concerned.)

AMY:  And I just don't know if I can deal with it in the long run.  
It scares me to think about -- *you* scare me.

JOEL: (worried)  I thought you said you didn't want to break up 
with me. 

AMY: (shaky smile)  I don't.  But that doesn't mean I won't come 
after you with a cast iron skillet someday.

JOEL:  And I'm the one who scares *you*.

(He chuckles, causing Amy to blush, then becomes intense.)

JOEL:  Because you scare me.  You're the one who's always seemed 
better.  Beautiful, confident, says exactly what's on her mind.  When 
my friends see you, they're like: "My God, you live with *her*??"      

(Amy smirks, in spite of herself.)

JOEL:  I had to work to become somebody, but to me, you were *born* 
amazing.  Everything you do, no matter how small, just reflects that.  
That's why I love being a part of whatever you do, and why in the 
past I let it get a bit out of hand.

(Amy cocks a brow, remembering.)

JOEL:  When you're in a down mood, like now, I can feel it.  Even though 
you don't express it openly.  And I want to do everything to try and 
make it better.

(Her face now soft, Amy leans forward and kisses Joel on the lips.  
They then embrace once again, Amy's head on Joel's shoulder.)

AMY:  I don't know whether to be flattered or concerned.  
 
JOEL: (smirks)  At least I haven't built the alter yet.  

AMY:  So again, now what?  Do we just worship each other and continue 
to wallow in our insecurities?

JOEL:  I think... we work on the insecurities, and just try to stay 
honest with each other.

(Amy pulls back, looks him in the eye.)

AMY:  Like if you tell *me* your concerns instead of going behind my 
back to Helen.

JOEL: (equally pointed)  Or if you actually talk about *your* feelings 
instead of blowing them off with sarcasm.

(They stare at each other for a beat.)

JOEL: (soft)  Done.

AMY: (smiles)  And I'm working on it.  I won't ever share *everything*, 
but I'll definitely try to be more open.

JOEL:  You know a year ago we wouldn't have said what we just said.  
I wouldn't have known of your feelings about Helen --

AMY:  My feelings about Helen.  Oh God.

(Her tender expression turns pained, filling Joel with worry.)

JOEL:  What is it?  What did I say?

AMY:  Nothing.  She and I fought right before she left.

JOEL: (can't resist asking)  Again?

AMY: (nods)  It was worse this time. (winces.)  The things I said to 
her... and what she said to me.  The whole stupid fight was so painful 
and out of control.

JOEL:  You two have bounced back from a bad fight before.

AMY:  I don't think we will this time.  (closes her eyes, now seems 
close to tears.)  I told her I *loved* her.   

JOEL: (faint smile)  Ouch.

AMY: (shakes her head)  When I was a child.  I told her everything.  
About how I worshiped her, thought she had all this great potential 
to share with the world.  It's like Satan pitched a tent in my brain 
and made me blab every single thought I'd kept private for over 
thirty years.

JOEL:  Still, it doesn't sound terrible.

AMY:  I just don't know why I did it.  (winces.)  Of *course* Helen's 
not perfect.  Of course she's flawed and weak and vain like everyone 
else.  I've known that for years.  But this window opened up that let 
me see her the way I once did.  I jumped through, and came down hard.

JOEL:  How come?

AMY:  I wanted her to help me.  But not just that.  (She looks away, 
takes a deep breath.)  Back when I "worshiped" Helen, I also knew 
that she loved me more than my own mother did.  She loved me like 
a mother.

(Joel recalls his conversation with Helen over the photo, and nods.)

AMY: (shakier)  Which I really needed, given that my own mother 
was so distant, Rita hated me for replacing her as the youngest 
girl, and Dad was so Jekyll-and-Hyde.  (knits her brow.)  But then 
came the day when Helen left me.  I don't know how.  She hadn't even 
left for college yet, but suddenly she just wasn't *with* me anymore.   

(She quivers a little, and fights to stay controlled.)

AMY:  I never knew why.  Never knew if it was something *I* did, 
or if something inside her changed.  (hint of anger.)  Or if she 
only loved me because I was a girl and saved her ass.

JOEL:  Did you ask her?

(Amy shakes her head.)

AMY: (continues)  Once she "left" me, I no longer saw her as perfect.  
And earlier today, when I saw that I couldn't get "perfect" Helen 
back, and that the source of her love was possibly tainted, I lost 
it.  Said she was horrible and selfish, and destined to wreck her 
family.       

JOEL: (faint smirk)  She take it well?

AMY:  Yes, she merely tore me to shreds.  Between the two of us, I 
think we had the block convinced the Apocalypse was at hand.  Either 
that, or a trashy reality show.

JOEL: (cringes)  I'll take the Apocalypse, thanks.

AMY:  The things we said... if she takes my words to heart the way I 
did hers.  (then, angry.)  God, why does it always have to end like 
that?!  I wish I could take it all back. 

(Joel reaches back and snares the phone, which he hands to Amy.)

JOEL:  Here.  Call her up.

AMY:  I-I can't.  She'll never --

JOEL:  You won't know unless you try.  Come on.

(Amy hesitates, before taking it and punching speed dial.)

AMY: (muttering)  If I've done anything to hurt those people, I swear 
I'll never forgive myself... (After several rings.)  Voice mail.

(She clicks off the phone without leaving a message, dejected.)    

AMY:  If I try her home phone, I might interrupt her with Jake.  Or 
he or the girls might answer and I'd be forced to make up some 
excuse, and I forgot the excuse Helen gave.

(With disgust, she slams the phone down hard on the bed.)

JOEL:  *Calm* down, Amy.  Just keep trying her cell phone.  She'll 
answer sooner or later.

AMY:  I want to help her.  In spite of whatever far-flung excuse 
she gave, I really do think she came here for my help.  At least it 
would give her a chance to explain.

(Her eyes convey a depth of feeling and sorrow that touches Joel, 
and he brings her against him.)

JOEL:  We'll do whatever it takes, all right?

(Amy turns her head and looks at him.)

AMY:  Thanks, honey.  For being here.  

(She takes Joel's face in her hands, and they kiss deeply and tenderly.)

(cut to: )

SCENE 7 (Greg's house, evening)

(Wide shot of the exterior.  In the twilight it looks like a regular 
single story, the type you might see on DeMartino's or Mrs. Johanson's 
street.  The only thing marking it as an artist's house is a large, 
metallic modern art piece on the lawn.  In the foreground of this 
shot, we see the nose of Helen's SUV just poke into view.)

(Cut to shot of Helen sitting in the dark interior.  She puts the SUV 
in park and just stares at Greg's house across the street.  Just sits 
and stares.) 

(fade-out.  fade-in to: ) 
 
SCENE 8 (Morgendorffer house, later)

(Shot of the outside.  Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn, in Quinn's room, 
where Daria has tracked her down after their confrontation with Jake.  
Quinn sits at the edge of the bed, hugging her knees, while Daria sits 
at the head, squeezing Quinn's Smiley pillow.  Neither of them speaks 
for several beats.)

QUINN: (tired)  What's gonna happen... when Mom gets home?

(Daria looks at her, shrugs.  She can't even imagine.  At this point, 
she doesn't know what Helen's been up to all weekend, where her thoughts 
are, what her intentions are.)

QUINN:  Do you think she'll kick Dad out of the house?

(Daria frowns.)

DARIA:  I hope she'd at least give him a hearing, first.

QUINN: (rage)  But why should she??  He lied to her, too!  Why shouldn't 
she hate him as much as *we* do?

DARIA:  Because.  She may not have a choice.

(Quinn looks at her with concern.)

QUINN:  Do you think Dad will leave us?

DARIA:  *Quinn*.  God, don't even talk like that!

QUINN:  I'm sorry!

(Shaken by Daria's tone, Quinn closes her mouth and is silent.  Daria 
looks at her regretfully.)

DARIA:  No, *I'm* sorry.  For all of this.  Sorry that our efforts 
yielded nothing but crap.  That I forced us to hear the truth when 
we didn't have to. 

QUINN:  But you couldn't have known, Daria.

DARIA:  I could have guessed.  I had my suspicions.  (pained scowl.)  If 
I had left it alone, Dad would have told *Mom*, not us.
 
QUINN: (inching toward her on the bed)  But we *wanted* to know.  And I 
was too scared.  You did the right thing.  

(She finds herself patting Daria's hand, to lift her out of her mood.  
Daria looks at her with an expression that is surprised and touched.)      
 
QUINN:  If Dad never said a word and this whole awful *thing* between 
him and Mom dragged on, I would have hated it.  Wouldn't you?

(Daria thinks for a moment.)

DARIA: (resigned)  Yeah.

(She finds herself reaching up, taking Quinn's hand, and giving it a 
squeeze.  Quinn looks surprised by her gesture.  Her face softening, 
she sits down beside Daria, bringing her knees to her chest.)
 
QUINN:  It was never your fault, Daria.  (dejected.)  It was mine.

DARIA:  *Your* fault?

QUINN: (pained)  If Dad hadn't helped me with math, none of this would've 
happened.  

DARIA:  Not making the connection.

QUINN:  You heard him say that tutoring me led him to teach, and that's 
how he met that person who isn't Mom. (more distressed.)  If I hadn't 
needed help, then stopped asking for it, he wouldn't have looked 
somewhere else, and he'd still be at home, and we probably wouldn't be 
talking right now.  I was like his *inabler*, or something. 

DARIA:  Quinn...

QUINN: (face crumples a little)  I didn't want this to happen, Daria.

(Daria's brow creases with sympathy, and she leans over to give Quinn 
a hug around the shoulders.)

DARIA:  It's not your fault.  Really.  Tutoring you is the *best* thing 
that's come out of this.

QUINN:  Oh, *that's* saying a lot.

DARIA:  I'm serious.  It got you interested in school, didn't it?  

QUINN: (cross)  So what??  If it wrecks our house, it's not worth it.

DARIA: (firm)  You didn't make Dad teach at the Extension Center.  You 
didn't even know.  If you didn't know, how could you prevent it?

(Quinn sighs, as Daria's logic seeps in.)

QUINN:  I guess.

DARIA:  If you take your learning further through life, no matter what 
happens it will be worth it.

QUINN: (quietly)  You really mean that?

DARIA:  I've always meant it.

(Quinn considers this, then pulls away from Daria a little.)

QUINN:  Yeah... but you don't always act like it.

(Daria thinks for a moment.)

DARIA:  Act like I think you're smart?

(Quinn freezes, then nods faintly.  Daria sighs, remembering her 
conversation with Jane on the subject, and decides to 'fess up about 
some of her feelings.)

DARIA:  I haven't always wanted to think you were.  "Bright enough," sure.  
Better than the other fashion drones, naturally.  But "truly smart" was 
an honor I wasn't willing to bestow.

QUINN: (quiet)  How come?

DARIA:  Because... (struggles to think of words.)  what's so unique about 
me if *you* can be smart so easily?

QUINN:  But we wouldn't be smart in the same way.

DARIA:  It's the act of being a *brain* that gives me my identity, not 
what I'm smart at.  You have other things that you're known for.  For me, 
this is it. 

QUINN:  Oh, okay.  (tries not to sound disappointed)  So does that mean 
you think I'm smart, but you're never going to tell me so? 

(She gets a look on her face that is almost as sad as the one she wore a 
few moments ago. Daria struggles with a conflicting desire to comfort 
her sister and stay true to her logic, which she feels is justified in 
spite of Jane's remarks and Quinn's disappointment.)

DARIA: (quiet)  What does it matter if *I* tell you?  Aren't there about 
fifty mathletes, not to mention your teacher, who would do it without 
hesitation? 

QUINN: (cheeks flushing)  Yeah... but... you always mean what you say.  About 
*everything*.  (flustered.)  Plus, you're my sister.  Plus you're, like, 
the smartest person I know.  What you say is worth, like, *ten* Jeffys.

DARIA:  What, no Joeys?  

QUINN:  And you're the one who knows how to handle being smart. (frustrated.) 
Me, I feel like I'm on a new planet, and I don't have anyone to be my 
tour guide.

DARIA:  The bathrooms are to the *left* of the comet storm.   
 
QUINN:  I just want to make sure I'm not doing it wrong.  (Pause. with 
reluctance.)  Plus, I don't think I've ever made you proud of me.  I 
mean *really*.  And I thought...

(Daria cocks an eyelid, her resolve fading at the sincerity of Quinn's 
tone.  She sighs.)   

DARIA:  You're a sharp person, Quinn.  I don't even think I realized 
how sharp until today.  You examine a problem and instantly seek out 
a workable solution.

(Quinn nods, trying to take pleasure in that much praise, at least.)

DARIA:  You're like that with everything -- fashion, relationships, *math 
equations*.  It's who you are.  And you proved that even more this weekend, 
when *you* found out where Dad was going, and *you* tried to help him with 
Mom.  I wish I had half your nerve.

QUINN: (smiles a little)  Thanks, Daria.  

DARIA:  And you wouldn't be sharp if you weren't... kind of smart, too.

(Quinn's face takes on a genuine smile this time.  She looks the 
happiest she has all weekend.)

QUINN:  *Thanks*!

DARIA:  Wow.  I said it, and my head didn't explode.  I must be going 
soft.

QUINN: (giddy)  Or it's just 'cause you know I'll never be as smart 
as you.  (Bt)  You wanted me to say that, didn't you?

DARIA:  So that _Easy Guide to Mind Control_ *was* worth the money.
(Then, grudging but sincere.)  Quinn, truth be told, I don't know how 
smart you are.  You might *not* be as smart as me.  Or you might.  But 
the point is how you use that intelligence.  Like deciding whether or not 
it's worth it to spend your life folding sweaters at Cashmans.

QUINN:  Right... (Then, more serious.)  Does this also mean you're no longer 
down on any of the math stuff I do?  Or my teacher?

DARIA: (objects)  I haven't been "down" on... (She then pauses to reflect, 
before speaking honestly.)  Look, I won't pretend that that doesn't concern 
me anymore, because it does.  But most of it has nothing to do with you, 
understand?

QUINN: (confused)  Um, sure.

DARIA:  And I'm going to have to trust you to do what you think is 
best.  Know when it's time to move on.

(More confused, Quinn just looks at her.  Then something dawns on her, 
and her face goes reflective.)
 
DARIA:  And... maybe I should move on, too.  Quit worrying about my 
damn identity, and be that tour guide you need, or whatever.  It gets
pretty windy on the dark side of Jupiter.

(She wishes she felt half as certain as she sounds.  As she watches 
Quinn's face light up, she hopes that she can keep up her selflessness 
in the long run.)      

QUINN:  I'd like that.  (Bt)  And Daria?

DARIA:  Yes?

QUINN:  You... um, you're good with stuff, too.

DARIA:  So I've been told.

QUINN:  At stuff besides being a brain, I mean.  You're real good 
at being forceful and saying what you think.  The way you pressured Dad 
and wouldn't back away, that was, like, really... cool.  

(Daria's face takes on muted surprise and pleasure at Quinn's compliment.  
She hadn't thought Quinn was in a state to pay attention.)  

DARIA:  "Cool," eh?  (smirks.)  Let's hope the next subject you fall for 
is English.

(Quinn rolls her eyes.)

QUINN: (smirks)  You should do that more often.  Go up to people on your 
own, I mean.  

DARIA:  I may just do that.  Much as I try to drag my heels, I seem to 
keep doing that more often anyway.

QUINN:  I could...

(Her words trail off at the rumble of a car engine outside.  Daria and 
Quinn glance at each other, then hurry over to the window to see.  Down 
below, they see the long white beams of SUV headlights touching the garage 
door.  As the SUV pulls into the driveway, Daria and Quinn exchange a 
weary look.  "Mom's finally home.") 

(cut to: )

SCENE 9 (living room, minutes later)

(Shot of the front door.  It opens, revealing a bone-weary Helen, still 
dressed the way she was on Friday, briefcase in hand.  She surveys the 
empty, half-lit living room.)

HELEN:  Hello?  I'm back.

(Her tone sounds mildly flat, as though she's not sure anyone will respond.  
She moves inside and closes the door, then calls up the stairs.)

HELEN:  Daria?  Quinn?  Jake?

(When she receives no response, she starts toward the kitchen -- to eat and 
to see if any notes/phone messages have been left.  Just then:)

DARIA: (OS)  Mom.

(Helen turns with surprise to see Daria and Quinn standing at the top of the 
stairs.)

HELEN:  Why girls, I didn't think you were home!  (She smiles with overwhelming 
tenderness and relief.)  The house was so quiet, and when no one answered --  

DARIA:  Sorry, we were busy.  

QUINN: (quiet)  How was it at Aunt Amy's?

(Beat)

HELEN: (hint of sadness)  Not as nice as I had hoped.

DARIA:  You didn't fix her