Whatever She Needs: Helpless (1/?) - Degrassi, PG-13

Title: Whatever She Needs
Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi or any of its characters.
A/N: Directly proceeds episode 705, “Death or Glory (Part 1).”

Innocently. That was how it began. She would linger in the classroom for a few moments after the bell rang, waiting until everyone else had left. Usually she would say nothing: just a pointed look or a gracious smile. He returned the silent gesture so she’d remember the promise he intended to keep. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” Then she’d avert her gaze and quickly leave the room. Snake found himself wondering if she regretted confiding in him to begin with. It was obvious that she never intended to do so.

This went on for a couple weeks, and then she ignored him. She jumped out of her seat when the bell rang and ran out of class with the rest of the students. No more discreet glances. At first he was relieved. He wouldn’t miss the awkward pauses; he had enough of those at home.

Then Snake was surprised to feel something else: resentment. Her behavior confirmed that she had no desire to confide in him any further. The fact that Darcy had chosen him as the one person she could trust was no fact at all. More accurately, it was a mistake.

He hated feeling helpless. He hated feeling unwanted and discarded. Psychologically, it sent him spiraling back twenty years to the gawky teenager who let everyone take advantage of him, who always offered a shoulder to lean on until his friends realized that he was more useful as a doormat. Snake knew these feelings were selfish and useless. He didn’t blame Darcy. Not with what she was going through. He knew that he couldn’t confront her; it wasn’t his place. Still, he resented her for pulling him in and so rapidly pushing him out when all he wanted to do was help alleviate her pain. But what could a 34-year-old man—a computer teacher, for crying out loud—possibly know about being seventeen, vulnerable, and recently raped?

He was the last person she should have told. No wonder she avoided him now.

A month passed since her confession and Snake wanted so badly to ask her how she was doing; he wanted, for one more fleeting moment, to be a source of comfort. Instead he sat back and did nothing. He played the game. All he could do was hope that she had talked things through with Ms. Sauve, that she was moving on, that she was better.

She wasn’t.

So he was surprised to find her standing on his doorstep exactly thirty-six days since the moment she decided to include him in her world—not that he had been keeping count. He stared at her incredulously, not knowing what to say.

“Can I come in?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Darcy, it’s almost midnight and my wife just went to bed. I know that I said I was here for you, but you can’t just show up at my house whenever you feel like it, especially after you haven’t said a word to me in over a month. I’m sorry, but whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow after school. Goodnight.”

That was what he should have said. Instead he opened the door wider and wordlessly motioned for her to enter.

She walked timidly into the living room and observed her surroundings before sitting down hesitantly on one end of the couch. He watched her apprehensively before approaching, choosing the opposite end. It mirrored exactly that first day when he asked her if he could sit. And just like they had done then, they sat, in silence.

She spoke first. “I haven’t been able to tell Ms. Sauve.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly.

“Mr. Simpson, I don’t know why, but you’re the only one I can talk to,” she admitted.

“I’m honored,” he began, trying to choose his words carefully, “but you’ve barely said a word to me since the day you told me you were…” He didn’t want to say it.

“I know.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I was embarrassed or something. I don’t know.” She fidgeted in her seat. “And apparently I’m still embarrassed. I should just go,” she said abruptly, jumping up. “I knew this was a stupid idea—”

“Darcy, wait!” Snake cried out helplessly. She was at the door already, but she stopped and turned. He didn’t know what to say. Why was this so hard? She looked at him a moment longer and brought her hand to the doorknob. “I just think—we should…” he spluttered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that would stop her from walking out the door. “You need to let me help. Let me in.”

Her hand dropped to her side and she met his gaze. He hardly realized he was holding his breath. “What can I do?” she asked, her voice shaking on the words. “How am I supposed to get past this?”

He ran his hand nervously through his thinning hair, wondering if correct answers to those questions even existed. “I just don’t think you should be keeping everything bottled up inside. I think we need to have a real conversation.”

“All I want to do is forget,” Darcy said. “I don’t want to relive it. Talking will bring it back.”

“But if you don’t want to talk, why did you come here?” Snake pressed.

She looked down at her shoes. “I really have to go,” she said quickly, and ran out the door without glancing back. He stood in the doorway and stared into the dark night long after her shadowy figure disappeared, trying to process what the hell had just happened. Finally he closed the door.