Darcy ran down the street, not knowing where to go. She just kept running. She probably looked half-crazy; running down the street, attempting to wipe her tears as she fled. Darcy turned another corner, dodging a woman with a baby stroller, and found herself in front of the Jeffersonian. Darcy ran inside, finding Micah. She started crying, well, sobbing, harder.
"What's wrong, Darcy?" Micah asked, concerned.
Darcy shook her head.
"W-wh-where's Doc-doctor Brennan?" Darcy sniveled.
Micah led her to the woman's office, where she sat inside, working on a laptop. Micah knocked on the door, and Dr. Brennan looked up, confusion crossing her face as she studied Darcy.
"Darcy? What are you doing here?" Dr. Brennan asked.
"I…me and…Dakota…Stephanie…Booth…I can't!" Darcy choked, wailing and holding herself, Micah holding her up.
Dr. Brennan immediately stood, bringing Darcy to her couch. Dr. Brennan sat down next to her, awkwardly handing her a tissue and sitting next to her. She texted Angela, asking her to come in; Angela was better at these things.
"What do you mean, Darcy? Who's Dakota? Or Stephanie? What happened with Booth?"
"I…Dakota and I…w-we had a f-f-fight, back in September, and h-he hates me, a-an-and I met Stephanie o-on the t-train a few months ago a-and she's a foster kid, too, a-a-and we went out f-for lunch and she k-kissed m-me and I like her and Booth saw and…" Darcy briefly explained before wailing again, pulling her hair. Brennan fruitlessly tried to keep her from harming herself until Angela arrived.
"Hey, Bren, what is…oh God," Angela stopped as soon as she saw the distraught teenager weeping on the couch. Brennan sent Angela a pleading look that said: "HELP ME."
"Darcy, sweetie…what happened?" Angela asked, sitting on the other side of Darcy, pulling her to her chest and letting her cry, lovingly stroking her hair.
Darcy shook her head, crying harder. She wanted Christian here right now. She wanted him to smile his familiar crooked smile, with his brown hair falling into his eyes, with his quiet voice, the voice he'd used to soothe her when they were young. God, how she wanted to hear his rumbling voice that was such a comfort when they were kids.
She wanted her brother back.
"Apparently Darcy had a fight with her friend, Dakota, and she thinks that Booth will hate her because he saw her kissing someone named Stephanie," Brennan explained bluntly to Angela, who, with understanding in her eyes, leaned Darcy back and looked her in the face.
"Darcy, sweetie, what are you worried about most?"
"B-booth is going t-to g-get rid of me now, isn't he? B-because I l-like g-girls."
"Why would you ever think that?" Brennan asked.
"B-b-because i-it's n-not right a-and I'll make Booth l-look bad," Darcy explained, stammering.
None of the three women had heard Booth enter behind them, Darcy's bag in hand. He leaned against the door frame, clearing his throat slightly. Angela and Brennan turned, but Darcy hadn't heard him.
"Ladies, will you give Darcy and me a moment alone, please?"
Angela and Brennan nodded, letting go of Darcy and walking out, casting looks at the two. Booth went over to Darcy, sitting across from her.
"Darcy? Do you want to know why I got into fostering?" Booth asked gently.
Darcy nodded, not looking at him.
"I decided to foster kids because, after one especially bad case, I realized that…I could make a difference in these kid's lives. I thought that even though my childhood was really bad, other kids' shouldn't be; and that if I could change someone's, even just one person's life, then I'd make the world a little better. What I'm trying to tell you, Darcy, is that I couldn't care less if you date Stephanie or not. As long as you treat each other well and care for each other, you have my blessing. Is that what you were worried about?"
Darcy nodded, looking up and smiling, wiping tears from her eyes.
"If you could have any one thing in the world, right now, what would you ask for?" Booth asked, curious.
"Christian. I'd ask to see my brother."
Booth nodded. He'd do a search starting tomorrow morning.
Darcy sat in the bathtub in Booth's master bathroom, door locked, the curtain drawn, music playing softly over the speakers she'd plugged into the wall. The water had long since stopped steaming and was now turning cold. The framed picture of Christian sat on the ledge. Darcy stared at his laminated eyes as he stared back at her. That was all she could get from him today. Looking at the picture frame, Darcy hurriedly picked it up, removing the back. There, there, was what she was looking for between the picture and the back of the frame. It was quite ingenious, hiding her razor blades in a place where no one would think to look. Darcy held one of the razors to the light, examining its sharpness.
"Good enough," she thought. She looked at her thigh, littered with scars, and added to them.
Like all other aspects of her life, Darcy was methodical. She didn't self-harm with gusto. She was careful, always so careful.
Darcy didn't look at her leg, didn't watch the skin separate with an agonizing tear, almost like fabric.
Darcy switched to her arm. "At least it's November," she thought.
Darcy opened her eyes when Booth knocked on the door, startling her. Her arm and legs were smeared with blood, cuts littering her extremities. The water started to turn red.
"Everything alright in there, Darce?"
"Yeah, one second," Darcy answered, quickly draining the water and locating the gauze in Booth's cabinet. She wrapped her arms and put on the pajamas she'd brought to the bathroom, thankful she'd brought a sweatshirt.
Booth sat at his desk, awkwardly typing at his computer with both hands. The screen displayed a strange scene.
Search for: Christian St. Vincent
The results brought up multiple people, and none of them was Darcy's brother. He'd searched all day, even skipping his lunch break. Giving up, he dialed a number that had been hastily written on a sticky note: Andrea Breer- 202-693-6925.
Dialing the number, Booth held the phone to his ear and waited. It rang four times, a quiet voice answering, "Hello?"
"Hi, Ms. Breer, it's Agent Booth, Darcy's foster father."
"Agent Booth! Is everything alright? Darcy isn't giving you any trouble, is she?" Andrea quickly asked.
"No, not at all, Darcy is wonderful! I wanted to ask you a question about her brother, Christian."
"What about him?" Andrea asked.
"What's his…situation? Darcy's been having a hard time and she really wants to see her brother," Booth explained, pacing in his office.
"While I care about Darcy a lot, I didn't handle Christian's case. When the children were removed from their father's care, Christian was assigned to someone else. Though, if you'd like, when I go to work tomorrow, I can take a look at his file, try to locate him," Andrea offered.
"That would be amazing, Ms. Breer," Booth answered.
"It's no problem, Agent Booth. Now, if you don't mind, it's 11 o'clock at night, and I have to get up early for work."
"Thank you, goodnight, Ms. Breer," Booth answered, hanging up. Booth glanced toward his room, wondering if Darcy had gotten out of the bath yet.
After their conversation today at the Jeffersonian, Booth wondered if Darcy was going to start relaxing around him like she had been, or if he'd have to start breaking down her walls yet again. The urge suddenly hit him to see his Bones and talk to her about his situation with Darcy.
"Hey Darcy, I'm going to go see Bones for a little while!" he shouted into his room.
"Ok! See you later!" she answered from inside the bathroom. Darcy breathed a sigh of relief that she had more time to clean up her mistake.
When Booth returned a few hours later, there were a few lights on, the TV playing some '90's sitcom. Darcy lay asleep in front of it. Smiling, Booth picked up the sleeping girl, slightly struggling under her average build, and carried her into her bedroom, gently laying her on her bed.