Agent Booth led Darcy into an empty ice rink, going up into the sound booth and turning on some music. ACDC filtered through the speakers, slightly muffled as Booth sang along to "Highway to Hell," strumming an air guitar and headbanging as he went came up to Darcy and asked, "How good are you at ice skating?"

"Not good at all!" Darcy laughed, looking at the rink.

"Well, we're going to change that, huh?" Booth suggested, pulling her towards the skate rental area, jumping over the counter and grabbing their sizes.

"How are we here? Aren't we going to get in trouble?" Darcy asked.

"Nah," Booth answered, shaking his head.

"We're not?"

"An old army buddy of mine owed me a favor," Booth explained as he helped Darcy fit the shoe onto her foot, lacing it up for her.

"I see then. You do realize, Booth, how bad my balance is?"

"Aw, cmon, Darce, have some fun for once. You'll never get good if you don't practice,"

"I don't see myself becoming a professional hockey player, if that's what you're suggesting," Darcy laughed as she attempted to walk towards the rink, where Booth was currently spinning around.

"Not even a figure skater?" Booth teased. Darcy shook her head as she took a few tentative strides before falling right onto her ass with a loud thump. Both laughed as Booth skated over, pulling her up and guiding her, skating backward as he showed her how to keep her proper balance to keep from falling over again.

As Darcy got the hang of it, the foster father and daughter laughed and raced and Darcy felt good and warm and she wondered, Is this what having a family like?

Darcy kept going in circles, singing along to "Carry on My Wayward Son" as she skated. What time was it? She made her way to the opening of the rink, making her way over to her bag. Pulling out the phone Ms. Breer had provided, Darcy saw that it was a quarter after ten. Booth was currently pretending to be Luc Robitaille, charging back and forth on the ice.

"Booth!"

"Huh?"

"It's after ten!"

"Oh, wow! We should get ready to head out! Are you hungry for dinner?" Booth questioned, worry creasing his handsome features.

"No, I'm okay, I just thought we should start heading home."

"You need to eat, Darcy," Booth suggested, looking at her thin figure.

"I'm not hungry, Booth. It's okay. I just want to warm up and go to bed," Darcy reassured.

"Yeah, that does sound good, doesn't it?"

Darcy nodded and collected her things, looking at her phone.

5 New Messages

2 Missed Calls

1 Voicemail

Checking the missed calls first, she saw that they were both from Ms. Breer. Darcy called her voicemail to see what the woman wanted now. Darcy didn't hate Ms. Breer, she'd certainly done a lot for Darcy, but she was almost always in a bad mood and liked to take it out on Darcy. But, deep down, Darcy knew that Andrea cared.

"Welcome to your voicemail. Please input your password," the smooth, robotic voice requested. Darcy typed in the four numbers needed to unlock it and put the phone back to her ear. "You have 1 new message. First message: "Hi, Darcy, this is Andrea Breer. I was just calling to ask how you were settling into your new home and how you and Booth are adjusting. Give me a call when you can."

Darcy smiled and erased the voicemail, making a mental note to call Ms. Breer tomorrow.

The four texts, however, were mostly from Dakota, though one was from an unknown number.

To: Darcy St. Vincent

From: Dakota Vick

8:13 PM

I can't believe that after all these years, you'd be so childish.

To: Darcy St. Vincent

From: Dakota Vick

8:18

You seriously got pissed because I didn't WALK with you?

To: Darcy St. Vincent

From: Dakota Vick

9:20

Whatever. Don't answer me then. I don't give a fuck.

To: Darcy St. Vincent

From: Dakota Vick

9:52

I'm done with you, Darcy St. Vincent.

Reading the messages, Darcy felt her heart sink lower and lower. She felt a physical pain in her chest and she swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

To: Dakota Vick

From: Darcy St. Vincent

10:24

Are you really going to pull this shit?

Darcy went to turn off the phone altogether, but another text caught her eye, from a blocked number.

To: Darcy St. Vincent

From: UNKNOWN

9:38

Alouette, gentille alouette,

Alouette, je te plumerai.

"What the fuck?" Darcy whispered, but decided it must have been a wrong number or something.

The car was quiet on the drive home, as Darcy lightly dozed and Booth listened quietly to the radio, an unknown song just beginning.

Booth looked over as Darcy's phone chirped, the screen lighting up. Booth picked up her phone.

1 New Message

From: Dakota Vick

Booth clicked OPEN, viewing the text.

To: Darcy St. Vincent

From: Dakota Vick

10:50

What shit am I pulling, Darcy? Am I pulling the shit that you ALWAYS pull on me?

Frowning at the mean nature of the message, Booth thumbed through the old messages, trying to keep another eye on the road.

"Sorry I didn't walk with you, Lacey was being a bitch."

"Whatever. I don't understand why you keep her around."

"Don't give me that crap, Darcy. You rejected me, remember?"

"What does that have to do with Lacey?"

"Everything. It's always about you, isn't it, Darcy?"

Booth stopped reading, pulling into a parking space before he finished reading their fights, up to the latest that Dakota had just sent. Booth shook his head as he put her phone back into her lap and woke her up, letting her know that they were home. She groggily climbed out of the car, walking sorely.

"Ugh, my butt's going to be so bruised tomorrow," Darcy complained.

"It was worth it, though, right?" Booth teased, wiggling his eyebrows as he held the building's door for her, snickering as he watched her attempt to start climbing the stairs. "Don't worry; it'll be better in the morning."

"It'd better be," she warned, standing by their apartment door. Booth opened it and they entered, collapsing on the couch and sitting there, staring at the ceiling.

Today had been an okay day.