Darcy Lewis is twenty-five years old and screwed. She's screwed so badly. The tiny piece of plastic clutched between her fingers might as well read ' Congratulations, you've screwed up!' That would be more appropriate. Instead, it just reads positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.

She sinks to the floor of the bathroom of the small flat she shares with Jane. This isn't good. Not one bit. Nowhere in her ten-year plan does her fling with her cute unpaid intern transform into a lifelong commitment. Nowhere in her ten-year plan is there room for a baby. Her chest tightens as she stares at the pregnancy test in her hand. This is not the plan.

Without thinking, she grabs her phone and hits the first number that appears. It should be Ian she calls-he's the father-he will need to know eventually. Or even Jane, who's grabbing them coffees from the Cafe Nero around the corner. But it's not.

"Darcy?" Spencer picks up after three rings. There's worry in his voice, and Darcy mentally berates herself for calling him. She hasn't even made up her mind about if she'll keep it yet, but she needs reassurance that she's not a failure. If Hank were alive, she'd be calling him, nine-hour time difference be damned. But he's not. All she's got left is Spencer and Jane.

She should've called Jane.

"Is everything okay?" Spencer asks.

Darcy swallows. Her stomach churns. When is morning sickness supposed to set in again? "Yeah. I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

She's not perfectly fine , and Spencer can tell. Maybe it's because she's calling him at eight AM her time. She can picture him frowning at the alarm clock on his bedside table, wondering why she'd be calling him at three in the morning. He's the behavioral analyst. He'll figure it out eventually.

"How's the case going?" Darcy asks, because she doesn't want to think about the plastic in her hands-because she doesn't want to think about what a screw up she is.

Spencer has questions-he always does-but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he starts talking about the serial killer they caught two days ago in upstate New York who was cooking his victims toes like sausage rolls. She knows he's leaving out the more gruesome details, but she's enchanted by the way he talks-by the story he weaves about the chase. She thinks she'd be content to sit on the bathroom floor and listen to him talk about serial killers for the rest of the day-if only to forget about the mistake in her.

She was a mistake. Her father told her the story a couple of times. He met her mom in grad school, devastated over a recent breakup. Isaac Lewis was a straight-laced Jewish boy, everything that Trish Levine's ex wasn't. Isaac was her rebound guy. Trish was still in love with some guy named Anthony. Darcy was a mistake that was never supposed to happen. They got married because that's what people did in the eighties, and then, three months after Darcy was born, her mom died in a car crash, leaving twenty-four-year-old Isaac Lewis with a baby he never wanted in the first place.

It's funny how history repeats itself.

Ian Boothby is cute. He is nice. He is a fun London hook-up. But, Darcy realizes as she leans against the bathroom door, listening to Spencer talk about his job, Ian Boothby is not the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with. If history were to repeat itself-if she were to die in a car crash three months after her child was born-she'd want to know that they were in good hands. She doesn't want her baby to grow up in London with Ian's strict, Tory parents. She'd want them to grow up with the people she loved-with Jane and Spencer.

A laugh bubbles out of Darcy at the thought of Jane becoming a parent. She'd be horrible at it. Jane Foster doesn't like children. She'd broken up with multiple guys because of her lack of interest in offspring. Darcy knows that it will eventually become an issue with Thor, but he's hot enough that Jane is ignoring the inevitable future and focusing on enjoying the present, which is exactly what Darcy thinks she needs to do. Jane would be a horrible parent, but Spencer wouldn't be.

She can picture it as clear as day. He's always been good with kids-he's great with JJ's son, Henry. He'd help Jane. Together, they'd figure out the ropes with Darcy gone. They'd be a hell of a lot better than her father, that was for sure.

"I'm pregnant." The words tumble over her lips before she has the chance to stop them. Spencer stops talking. Darcy's heart thuds in her chest. Spencer doesn't say anything. The silence drags on for what feels like ages. Ages and ages. Then, finally…

"Do you know what you're going to do?"

A small smile breaks across Darcy's lips. That's Spencer for you-always direct-always to the point. "I'm going to keep it." She didn't realize it until that moment, but as she says the words she knows they're true. She's going to keep it. She was a mistake, and, for some reason, that makes her want to keep it even more.

"Okay." She can practically hear Spencer nod on the other end of the line. "And the father?"

"He's not...it's just a fling." Darcy's breath is shaky. "I'll tell him-I have to tell him-but I'm not going to marry him." She can't marry Ian. They're too different. Besides, she wants to go home eventually. She can't imagine living in the UK for the rest of her days, and she knows Ian would want to stay. He has family here. She doesn't have a biological family anywhere.

Spencer releases a sigh. Darcy wonders what he has to be anxious about. "Okay. This is your life, Darcy-your child. You get to decide how it will turn out."

She's not sure if he's talking about her life or the life growing inside of her. Both maybe. She blinks, trying to stop the tears that are welling in her eyes from spilling down her cheeks. Somehow, she thinks that Spencer would know if she's crying. "I don't know how to raise a kid," Darcy says, because she doesn't. She doesn't know the first thing about children. Besides, it's not like she had many positive parental role models growing up. She didn't have any until Hank.

"You are the strongest, most intuitive person I know," Spencer sounds sincere. "You'll be a great mom. The kid will be lucky to have you."

"And you." Darcy regrets the words the minute they leave her mouth. There's a long pause as Spencer doesn't say anything. She winces.

Spencer may be her best friend, but that isn't a guarantee that he'll want to hang out with her when she's grumpy and pregnant. A small voice in her head tells her that she's being irrational-that this is Spencer who read several books on delivery on the off-chance that one of his coworkers went into labor in the field. He'll stick around. But, the majority of Darcy-the part that was the unplanned pregnancy-the part that had more step-mothers than anyone should ever have-the part who was left an orphan at fourteen-is scared. Few people have stuck around long enough to care.

The seconds tick by.

Darcy holds her breath.

Just when she thinks that Spencer may never speak again, he takes a deep breath. "Do you really mean that?"

It is as if a giant weight has lifted from her chest. Darcy can't stop the tears from spilling onto her cheeks. "Yes. I'll make you the godfather, or something like that."

"Actually, the tradition of godparents comes from the Catholic church-"

"Spencer."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

At that moment, Darcy hears the door to the flat creak open. The sounds of Jane's boots on the hardwood floors echo through the otherwise silent flat. "You won't believe how long the line was. Or should I say queue? Darcy, where are you?"

Darcy sighs. "In the bathroom," she shouts, cranking open the door and hopping to her feet. "Jane just got back. I gotta go, Spence." With a quick goodbye, she hangs up the phone. She tosses the pregnancy test in the rubbish and tries to rub the tear-streaks from her face. She fails. With another sigh, she leaves the bathroom. She finds Jane sitting in their tiny kitchen, two blue cups, and a pain au chocolat on the table before her.

Jane takes in Darcy's rumpled state with an arched eyebrow, but she doesn't say anything, for which Darcy is thankful. She grabs the chocolate croissant out of the bad and starts pulling it apart. "I just got off the phone with Spencer," Darcy says in a desperate attempt to fill the silence.

"Really?" She can tell that Jane's only half-listening as she pulls her laptop out of her bag and turns it on. "How's everything going with him?"

"Good. I think."

"That's good." Jane nods, focusing on the diagrams she pulls up. Darcy has no idea what they are. She's not as science-y as Jane. She wouldn't even be here if she'd gotten a single one of the political internships she'd applied for her senior year of college. While she's glad she met Jane, she wishes that she shared her mind and passion for space. It would be a nice escape from reality.

"Jane."

"Mmmm." Jane doesn't bother glancing up from her computer screen.

Darcy sighs. She should've expected as much. "I'm pregnant."

That's enough to tear Jane's attention away from her research. Her eyes grow until they're as round as saucers. Her mouth drops. "You're pregnant?"

Darcy nods. "Yes."

"With Spencer's kid?"

"What? No. Why would you think that?" Darcy shakes her head. She wants to laugh but can't bring herself to. Things would be so much different if it were Spencer's kid.

"You were just talking about him." Jane shrugs. "I figured this was your way of telling me you're together."

"I'm with Ian," Darcy says as if it's obvious. It is. "Kind of."

Jane rolls her eyes. "That idiot. Are you going to tell him?"

"I think I have to." She feels like she does. She's decided that she won't marry him if he offers, but he should at least know what's going on.

"No. You don't," Jane says. "We could run away and never tell him. It takes a village but no one said this kid needs its idiotic father. We've got a village. You. Me. Erik, maybe. Spencer. We don't need Ian."

Darcy takes a deep breath. "Thanks." She takes Jane's hand in her own. "Seriously, Jane. Thank you for saying that, but I have to tell Ian."

Jane squeezes her hand in response.

She tells Ian a week later. He's been visiting his sister in Bristol for the past couple of days, and Darcy doesn't think that it's a conversation they should have over the phone. They sit down for coffee. Darcy picks at the coffee cake in front of her, trying and failing to force herself to meet Ian's curious gaze. On some level, she knows that he cares about her-the same way you care for a friend's cat or a beloved childhood toy. They aren't perfect, but they were never supposed to be perfect. There weren't supposed to be any white picket fences in their future. This was supposed to be fun.

Only she could manage to turn something fun into a disaster.

"I'm pregnant," she says when she can finally meet Ian's eyes.

His mouth drops. "Pregnant? As in Pregnant , pregnant?"

Darcy bites out a laugh. "Is there any other kind of pregnant?"

"This is a joke, right?" Ian asks. "This can't be happening. I can't have a kid right now. I'm finishing up law school and then I start at the firm. This is really inconvenient for me, Darcy."

She wasn't expecting him to react well, but it still hurts to hear him say it-to hear the judgment in his voice. At that moment, she feels ashamed. Then anger floods her chest. Who is he to make her feel ashamed for hooking up with him? It takes two to tango, buddy.

"It's not like I planned this."

"This is really not a good time for me."

"It's not a good time for me either, Ian." Darcy stands. She hates how much shorter she is than him. He's shorter than Spencer, but, somehow, he makes her feel small in a way that Spencer never does. "But, guess what? This is a thing, and it's happening. You don't have to be involved if you don't want to."

For a moment, Ian is very still. Darcy holds her breath. Finally, Ian nods. "Okay. Thank you for telling me." And, with that, he leaves.

Darcy never sees him again.

As far as breakups go, it's the worst one that Darcy's ever had. She wasn't expecting him to stick around. She wasn't expecting him to care. But it would have been nice if he had.

Two months later, she helps Jane pack up their equipment and they leave the country. Darcy is glad to leave the foggy streets of London behind. The flight, on the other hand, is an experience that Darcy would rather miss. She's four months pregnant. Sitting in business class in a glorified cubical, Darcy feels a flutter in her womb. It scares her. The terrifying thought of being responsible for the thing inside her sends her spiraling. She cries quietly to herself as she watches Melancholia on the plane. It's a dumb film. She doesn't even understand what's happening.

Darcy has dark circles under her eyes when they land at the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. She hasn't been able to sleep a wink. She's got a baby bump, and she knows she probably looks like shit. Spencer's waiting for them at the gate. His eyes are filled with concern as they flick over Darcy, taking an assessment of her, deciding that she is indeed okay. Darcy shakes her head and pulls him into a hug.

"How'd you get past the TSA without a boarding pass?" she asks as they break apart.

"I'm an FBI agent," Spencer says as if that explains everything. Maybe it does.

He drops Jane off at her hotel-she's giving a speech about wormholes at the UN in a few days and will probably be holed up in her room until the time comes. Darcy makes a mental note to remind her to eat breakfast the following day. Jane has a habit of forgetting the little things. Then, Darcy and Spencer drive to his apartment. They decided a few weeks ago that she'll be crashing in his guest bedroom until she can find a more permanent residence for herself. And a job. She needs to find a job now that Jane is starting her Science Tour of America.

Darcy steps through the door and takes in the familiar space. The bookshelves are a little more full, but, otherwise, it looks exactly the same. It even smells the same: old books, clean sheets, and vanilla. It smells like Spencer.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Darcy says. "You really didn't have to-"

"I want to." She turns to face Spencer, who briefly meets her eyes. A smile tugs at his lips. "Anyways, I've been doing some reading on pregnancy…"

Darcy nods as Spencer starts to regurgitate facts. He's nervous. He only ever talks this quickly when he's nervous, but she doesn't stop him. She flops down on the couch and listens to him talk, ignoring the information he's sharing. It's soothing in a way that nothing else ever will be. She nods off on the couch.

She wakes up in the spare bedroom. It's a little past midnight, but she can hear movement outside. Darcy slides off of the bed. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she passes. She looks horrible. Her hair is greasy from not being washed. Sleep is crusted around her eyes. Her face is totally devoid of makeup. Not to mention she's nearly four months pregnant. She's in desperate need of a shower.

A thought flickers through her mind. Spencer's smile when they'd gotten off the plane. He'd been so happy to see her - he hadn't cared what a trainwreck her life was or what she looked like. He'd just been happy. Darcy couldn't help the small smile that came to her face at the memory.

He'd been happy. And for some reason that made her happy.

Running her fingers through her hair, Darcy grabs the towel that Spencer left out for her and leaves her room. Spencer's pouring coffee into a travel mug in the kitchen, dressed in his usual cardigan and jeans. A black bag sits on the countertop beside him.

"You're awake," he says.

Darcy nods. She really wants to grab his coffee and take a drink, but she isn't supposed to be drinking it. She settles for pulling the orange juice out of the fridge and pouring herself a glass. It's unopened, which means that he bought it because he knew she was coming to stay. Darcy tries not to think about what that means.

"Why are you awake? You should be sleeping."

Darcy shrugs. "I'm still on London time. Seven hours ahead, remember?" She jerks her head to the bag. "You leaving?"

Spencer nods. "Yeah. Just got the call." He hesitates. Darcy knows he doesn't want to leave. She just got home, he was planning on taking the week off. But murderers don't take days off, and the world needs Spencer Reid.

"Go on ahead," Darcy says, "I can look after myself." Heavens knows she's been doing it for long enough. "Besides, I've still got a few contacts in DC who can help me find a job. I'll be out of your hair in no time."

"You don't have to do that." Spencer shrugs. "It's fun to have a roommate. It's like being in college again."

"You didn't have any roommates in college," Darcy points out.

"I know." Spencer grabs his bag off of the counter. "I'll see you as soon as I get back. These things never take more than a week or so. Call if you need anything. And I mean anything ."

"I will. Don't worry about me." Darcy would have thought that catching serial killers would take longer. "Have fun," she says before she can think to say otherwise.

Spencer chuckles. "I'll try." With that, Spencer leaves Darcy alone in his flat - apartment. Darcy sighs, leaning against the counter. She surveys Spencer's apartment. Nothing's changed. Aside from a couple dozen new books, it's exactly the same as when she left a year and a half ago. Nothing's changed.

But she's changed.

Darcy frowns at the thought. Pushing it aside, she pads away to take a shower.

Five days later, Darcy meets with Phil Coulson. She'd received a phone call from a blocked number earlier that day. When she'd answered it, Phil had been on the other end - something about hearing she was back in town and wanting to grab a coffee. It was all an excuse, of course. The minute Darcy sits down, Phil gets straight to business.

"We need an alien expert," he says.

Darcy almost laughs at that. She would never call herself an alien expert. Jane Foster is an alien expert - not her. She was just along for the ride. "Why are you asking me, then?"

"You have experience with Asgardians and other species. Not to mention a close personal relationship with Dr. Foster-"

"Ah. So you already asked Jane and she turned you down."

Coulsen blushes at that. "Yes. We did. She declined for obvious reasons."

"And what makes you think that I'll say yes?" Darcy asks with a smug smile.

She honestly can't say if she'll say no at this point. She's tried her hand in politics and hated every moment of it. She could comfortably live off of Hank's fortune for multiple lifetimes, but she wants a job. She wants something that is hers. She wants to leave in the morning, work, and return home every night.

To Spencer.

The thought comes out of nowhere, hitting her like a bag of bricks. Darcy shakes it away. Right now, she is pregnant, jobless, and crashing in Spencer's spare room. She doesn't have the time to worry about what her desire to come home to him could possibly mean. Although she's sure it can't be good.

"Well, we've included a very enticing signing bonus," Coulson says, "Not to mention, you'd get the chance for hands-on research-"

"Would I have to travel?" Darcy asks. She's pregnant, and she knows that Agent Coulsen can tell. After all, he's a highly trained spy. She's decided that she wants to be there for her baby. She doesn't want to be the absentee parent her father was. She certainly won't go around getting married and divorced every other year.

"Um, no. No, it's all local work. At the triskelion."

Darcy nods. "I'll do it."

Coulsen claps his hands together. "That's wonderful. Just wonderful." His smile is contagious.

Jane doesn't think it's wonderful. Darcy can tell from her expression the moment she breaks the news. But Jane doesn't say anything. Instead, she starts rambling about wormholes and her upcoming projects. For the most part, Darcy is thankful that Jane doesn't tell her she's making a mistake, but a part of her wants her to. A part of her wants Jane to grab her by the shoulders and demand to know what she's doing. They hate SHIELD. Or, they used to hate SHIELD. Darcy supposes it's impossible to hate one's employer - especially when they're letting you do whatever alien-related research you want.

She starts work a week later. It's good work. She likes her coworkers. Most importantly, it keeps her busy. It keeps her from remembering what a screw-up she is - that in a few short months, she'll be a mother. She's not sure if she can handle that. Internally, she's constantly freaking out.

Of course, Spencer notices. He's always been too observational for his own good. Too good at noticing the small things.

"I can go with you," he offers one morning over breakfast. She's got an appointment with her OBGYN later that afternoon, and she's been dreading it. Dreading it with everything she has within her.

Darcy stares at Spencer as she picks at her oatmeal. His face is so open. Darcy can read every expression behind his eyes - concern, curiosity, love. He cares. He's always cared - from the moment he met her twenty years ago. Even though she's tried to push him away, even though they stopped talking for five years, even though she's an alien expert-ish working for SHIELD and he's an FBI agent with too many doctorates: he cares. The thought makes Darcy feel warm.

She nods. "Yeah. Sure. Why not? A little bit of moral support is always welcome."

Spencer grins in response.

The OBGYN on the SHIELD healthcare plan is way too fancy for Darcy's liking. It seems like something out of a futuristic novel rather than government healthcare. Dr. Nguyen is a pleasant woman in her sixties who smiles like a grandmother and instantly puts Darcy at ease. She points out Darcy's child on the sonogram.

"Do you want to know the sex of the fetus?" Dr. Nguyen asks with a smile in her kind eyes. Darcy nods. "It's a girl."

Three words, and Darcy's entire world stops. It's. A. Girl. A girl. A girl like her. Like her mother. Like Jane, and Anna, and Brooke. A girl . She's going to have a little girl. Tears come to her eyes. Big, wet tears. Gross tears.

Spencer reaches, taking Darcy's hand in his own. His thumb brushes against the back of her hand. Over and over. Reassuring her that everything will be alright.

"You must be so proud to be parents," Darcy hears Dr. Nguyen say through her tears.

"Oh, I'm not…" Spencer begins to say.

Darcy knows what he's going to say. He's going to say that her girl isn't his - that he's not the biological father - that Ian is all the way back in London doing lord-knows-what with lord-knows-who. Darcy doesn't want to hear him say that.

"Spencer," she interrupts.

Spencer turns his gaze to her. It's so absolutely caring that a part of Darcy wants to scream. This would be so much easier if it had been Spencer and not Ian. So much better. So much happier. "Yeah?"

Darcy shakes her head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

They leave the office fifteen minutes later. Darcy thinks of baby names on the way home to stop herself from thinking about other things, like Spencer. When they get back to his apartment, they sit in his parked car for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

Spencer takes a shaky breath. "Hey, Darce."

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking-"

"You usually are."

Spencer chuckles. "I was thinking about things, and...well...do you want to move in? Permanently. I mean, I'm only in about half the time anyways, and the apartment is pretty close to the triskelion, so work would only be two train stops away. Plus, rent in DC is so expensive, and I have the extra rooms."

Darcy's heart stops. She wonders if Spencer knows what he's offering her. It's been a long time since she's had a place to call home - not since Alaska, and even that wasn't really home.

"We could rearrange the office - move my desk into my room - and make it a nursery."

She wonders if Spencer knows how much she wants to say yes - how much she wants a home. Maybe he does. Maybe that's why he's offering.

"Are you being serious?" she asks.

Spencer nods. "This isn't something I'd joke about."

Darcy's heart leaps in her chest. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Yes," she whispers. "Yes." They walk into the apartment side by side. Almost touching. Darcy's all too aware of his presence.

The months pass. Jane goes on her science tour. The office is painted purple and slowly turned into a nursery. Penelope practically breaks down the door when she discovers that Darcy's pregnant, and then she promises to help Darcy out any way that she can. Derek stands in the doorway chuckling. With Spencer's help, they baby-proof the apartment. Darcy runs into Anna at work. To say that her high school friend is shocked would be an understatement. A few weeks later, Brooke flies in and they throw her a baby shower. Jane constantly calls to check-in.

Through it all, Spencer is there - a constant reassuring presence. When everything becomes overwhelming, Spencer is there.

On Friday, September 19th, 2014, Darcy Lewis gives birth to a healthy girl with dark hair and light eyes. She names her Georgiana Patricia Lewis. Georgie for short. She's perfect.

Three weeks later, she comes home from grocery shopping to find Spencer sitting in a chair in the living room. Georgie is asleep in his arms. Spencer is so enraptured by her, that he doesn't notice Darcy enter. She lingers in the doorway, watching Spencer recite Pride and Prejudice to her daughter. His expression is soft as he cradles her in his arms - open.

And that's when Darcy realizes it.

It's always been her and Spencer. From the beginning, when no one else cared, he did. He cared. He still cares. About her. About Georgie. Spencer Reid has a greater capacity for caring than any other human being Darcy knows. And that's why Darcy is in love with him.

She loves him.

She loves to listen to him ramble about the latest books he has devoured, she loves to stand beside him in the kitchen as he cooks, she loves to curl up on the couch and watch Netflix with him. She loves him.

Darcy Lewis is in love with Spencer Reid.

Fuck.