A Cynical Pony

by TwiPON3

10: Damn it!

Author's Note:

I intend, as the title is, to do this from mostly (preferably all of) Jake's POV. Hence all of the "Dammit"s.

Kudos to you if you read the title of this chapter in Jake's voice.

Thursday 05 August 1999 09:10, Morgendorffer Residence, Jake Morgendorffer's POV

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"You? Do you even know what she looks like?" Quinn asked the fiery-haired girl.

"I'm pretty sure that I'd know her when I see her."

"Be careful if you find her, though," I warned, "I think she might be a communist now."

"Jake..." Helen replied, shaking her head.

Dammit!

"Jake," Helen said, somewhat sternly, "Can you come to the kitchen?"

"Sure, Honey."

We both went into the kitchen, but instead of talking to me, her first move was, predictably, to get another cup of java. She stopped after doing a double take and quickly setting it down.

"What is it, Helen!?"

"It's... it's cold water."

I went over to check, and it was definitely just cold tap water. The next things we said, we said while we were looking at the mysterious coffee/water.

"I put it on right."

"Dammit, those communists! That girl-"

"Jake, I don't know what's going on-"

"Helen, hear me out. She's not an atomic communist, but there is something freaky about her. It's like... it's like she has these supernatural abilities," we looked up at each other, "And that she knows where Daria is and how to get her back."

"Jake that's... actually that almost makes sense."

"Dammit, Helen! I give you one theory that doesn't involve Communists, and you blow it the hell off!? Dammit!"

"Jake! I said it's plausible, not caffeine-induced."

He looked at me blankly for a second.

"Damn it. Helen, maybe we should just make another pot. Has that list gotten any longer?"

We both had a sudden urge to look in Helen's coffee mug again, only to find that it was slowly turning back into hot coffee.

"I'll pour it out and get my notebook, then I'll show you," she said, emptying the appliance that had been keeping her (and probably Quinn) awake for the majority of the day, then came over to me with the notebook she keeps in her nightstand.

"Here's what I have so far."

She opened to the page that she had written on at 05:30 labeled FINDING DARIA - POSSIBLE PLACES.

"A little disappointing, but we still have leads," she said, resting her hands on her face, "I think."

On the page was the same list, but the number of entries was somewhat more.

• Jane's House
• Amy's House
• Cafe Lawndale
• Lawndale Public Library

"Maybe Trent knows!" I said, picking up the phone and calling his house. After about twelve or so rings, I was getting fed up, "Please wake up and answer the damn phone!"

"Mmmm, hello?" Trent said, tiredly.

"Hello? Trent, do you know where Daria is?"

"No, you must be looking for the Morgendorffer-"

"GAH! I AM the Morgendorffer, dammit!"

"Woah. Calm down, man."

I took a few deep breaths.

Find Daria. Trent can help.

"Need anything?" he asked.

"Can you help me find Daria? You see, she just spontaneously dissappeared. Helen called me at work and told me."

"But I'm not wearing any pants."

"Put some on, dammit! I'll be over there in a few minutes!"

"Alright, Jake."

I hung up the phone and noticed a blank Helen, "What?"

"I've... I've never seen you this adamant since the hurricane when you tried to find her and Jane."

"Gotta be a man, sometimes, Helen!" I said, pouring two cups of straight-black coffee and walking to my (now repaired) '95 Lexus.

In the car, after setting down the coffee, I opened the glove box and reached for a folder labeled "DARIA".

"I hate to lie to Helen and pry with Daria's life, but she did say to do this if I needed."

The folder was just a plain, manila folder that wouldn't stand out, given that someone went through my stuff. The part that was truly concerning to me was if Helen or Quinn found out that the two of us bonded on occasion. Even if it was just things like how I could do better in my consulting firm, or even just reassuring me that I've already done better than my dad.

If they find out, I said, memorizing the address to Jane's house, there will be all hell to pay.

After I put the folder back up and closed the compartment, I sped down the roads going an easy 70MPH to Trent's house. On the way there, my car stalled for a second as I passed Jodi and the other girl just sitting on the sidewalk.

No time for that now, dammit.

"When this is over, I'm going to be a private investigator for her, dammit," I said as the car started and I finished the 25-minute drive to Trent and Jane's house.

When I got there, I just left the car running and ran up to the door, pounding on it. After about a minute, he came to the door.

"Ready?" he asked.

"You bet I am, dammit!"

"Then let's go, dammit."

"Trent," I said, backing out of the driveway like hell, "you're like a son to me, dammit."

"Thanks, dammit."