Quicksand - Degrassi, PG

Title: Quicksand
Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were so, Degrassi does not belong to me.
Notes: Tag to (glorious, amazing, breathtaking) episode 712, “Live to Tell.”

She had lost it completely. He knew she had lost it; she knew she had lost it; hell, everyone in the whole goddamn school knew she had lost it but what they didn’t know was that he was starting to feel like he could lose it too. She was pulling him under.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, trying not to flinch when Emma’s shrill voice sliced through the air. “Why was she here? What could she possibly have to say?”

He wished it were silent. But it wasn’t, and he couldn’t be, because so far every unspoken word that settled dormant on his lips had only drawn him deeper into Darcy’s whirlwind mess.

Because he hadn’t said stop.

And he hadn’t said, Darcy, what the hell are you doing.

And he hadn’t said, I think you need to leave.

He hadn’t said a single word or breathed a single breath.

“Well?” Emma pressed.

“She came to apologize,” he said, as if it were obvious. Because it was. But so was everything else.

Emma rolled her eyes. “She shouldn’t be here. You’re under investigation, and if anyone saw the two of you together, who knows what—”

“Emma. It’s going to be okay. Really.”

She was quiet. “I just think it’s risky for you to be seen anywhere near her right now.”

Snake nodded. “I know. I know.”

She offered a small smile and turned away, heading downstairs to her room, and relief washed over him for a fleeting moment. He was so damn sick of the inquisition.

But even in the comfort and familiarity of his living room, he could feel himself drowning still. Sinking to Darcy’s level. Succumbing as the pressure boxed him in. He reached hastily for his bag, not to get anything but just to feel something tangible, to know that he could hold onto something and it would be real. As he picked it up, an envelope fell out and fluttered to the ground.

Automatically, Snake bent down to retrieve it and opened the flap, knowing already what he would find. Darcy’s hair. It seemed silly now, but he had scooped it up off the floor to save for later, to use as evidence in the intervention or to protect her somehow. Maybe to protect himself. It didn’t even make sense. Nothing did.

He reached in and held the strands between his fingers, flicking his thumb against the sheared ends, back and forth, back and forth, as if this tiny piece of her physical being might offer insight into her inner psyche. He pulled and he twisted, wanting to grab hold of the loose threads and unravel the fabric of her damaged existence. It was a damage they shared together now: hers and his, sewn into one.

And he didn’t even wonder what Daphne or anyone would say if they saw him now, standing there alone and entranced, twirling his student’s hair between his fingers. Or what Emma would say if she suddenly came bounding up the stairs.

Because if he closed his eyes, he could only see her. Looking back at him and smiling. Calling him Snake between halted breaths. Pulling him under.

It was a risk he was willing to take.

Sin Sin Sin - Degrassi, PG-13

Title: Sin Sin Sin
Alternate Title: Why I Probably Shouldn’t Write From Darcy’s Perspective, Ever
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine; most of the words are. The poetry belongs to Sylvia Plath and the title is taken from a Robbie Williams song.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.

There are seven ways to die. Darcy was determined to try them all.

She made a list and tucked it between the pages of her Bible. She laughed when she thought about it, because it was funny. It made sense to put it there. That Bible didn’t get much other use.

The first was easy: eat. She stuffed herself until she thought she would burst. Afterwards, she knelt beside the toilet, releasing chunks of food and blood. She always laughed when she saw the blood. It was mocking her, insisting she was alive.

For number two, she’d have them all. Peter was still around, too guilt-ridden to give up yet. And then there was Spinner, just to spite Jane. And Johnny, just to fuck with their heads, just to prove she no longer cared who got hurt, as long as she could have them all, and all at once. She’d have everything, and they’d have nothing.

That grew tiresome, so she stayed in bed for a week and laughed quietly into her pillow. Crossed off number three.

Number four found her when she came back to school and realized she was invisible. Manny, Emma, Chante, even Holly J had nothing witty to say, so she screamed and stormed off in a fiery rage.

Home was just as bad, because home meant Clare. Darcy scarcely remembered a life so undestroyed. She held her breath and waited: for a trip, a stumble, a fall. For anything that meant her sister would join her descent into ruin.

When she pulled out her list and realized she had finished one through five, she laughed. That alone was enough to cross off the sixth.

Number seven was the last. It would be a work of art.

She wanted a challenge: not Peter or Spinner or Johnny. She picked a married man. She picked him because he was her teacher and she saw him every day. She knew he was miserable. She recognized his misery because she had once been miserable too.

Now she didn’t feel anything, and everything made her laugh.

It was highly calculated. She spilled her vulnerabilities and waited for him to bite. Then she pounced him, like a cat.

He thought she was crazy when she came onto him, but he gave in anyway, like she knew he would. She had taken six lives already and would do it again.

They kissed in empty classrooms and groped each other in shadowed alleys. She whispered filth into his ear as she nibbled the lobe, just to watch him blush.

Then one night in a cheap hotel room, she raped him and never looked back.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

It was over. She opened the drawer to her nightstand for the last time, removed her Bible, and stared down at the tiny piece of paper in her hands. She crossed the final item off her list.

Gluttony. Greed. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride. Lust.

Seven ways to die.

Darcy climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling nothing, and closed her eyes, feeling nothing still.

It was dark. Then it grew lighter. A smile crept to her lips as she whispered, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

And she laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

--

eta: aphrodite_mine wrote a deliciously evil companion piece to this here!

Whatever She Needs: Guilty (8/?) - Degrassi, PG-13

The enormity of what they were doing didn’t hit him until later.

They viewed three apartments that afternoon, and Snake was unimpressed by all. Furthermore, it was hard to concentrate with Darcy standing beside him. He wondered what the landlords were thinking, if anything. That she was his daughter, or his niece, or a distant relative of some kind. Certainly not his… whatever she was. He wasn’t exactly sure.

He wondered why he was so concerned and paranoid, anyway. He tried to shake it off. It shouldn’t have mattered and it didn’t matter. (Except that it did.)

It was dark outside when they left the last apartment and headed towards his car. Snake looked at his watch. “I should probably take you home,” he said, almost sadly.

“I guess,” Darcy replied quietly. Once they were in the car, she added, with a cunning smile, “I’m glad I got to spend time with you today.”

“Me too.” It was what he was supposed to say. He felt vaguely nauseous. “Darcy, where do your parents think you are?” he asked.

She sighed. “I don’t know.” Her tone had grown colder.

“What do you mean?”

Even in the darkness of the car and with his eyes glued to the road, he could see her fold her arms across her chest. “They’ve stopped asking me questions. They’re afraid any little thing could set me off. Suicide watch, remember?” She exhaled loudly.

The headlights of other cars were almost blinding him. He said nothing. It was silent except for the faint hum of the radio.

“What’s with the sudden third degree?” she asked defensively. Snake wondered if she was regretting this already. The years between them were becoming clearer to her now. He knew it.

“Parental instincts, I guess,” he muttered. This was probably the worst thing he could have said, and he was well aware. It was why he said it.

“Don’t give me that,” she said. “Stop trying to make me feel guilty.”

“If I stop reminding you that I’m older, it’s not going to change the fact that I am,” Snake said stubbornly.

“Okay, you know what, pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over,” she repeated more urgently.

“We’re just minutes from your house.”

“Snake—”

“Fine.” Only because she was using his name again and it sent chills throughout his entire body. She got out of the car once they stopped and he paused for a few seconds before joining her outside. Darcy was leaning against the trunk, rubbing her forearms with both hands to fend off the cold. Snake approached her slowly and leaned carefully against the car, as if it might break. Like everything else.

She smiled, and even in the faint glow of the streetlight he could see the sadness behind it. “Everything seemed so perfect this morning,” she said. “And this afternoon.”

He kicked nervously at the ground and heard a pebble go flying off into the distance. “Well, reality sets in pretty quick.” He wondered if the darkness might devour him whole.

“I thought we already had this conversation,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s not something that can be solved in one conversation. Or ever,” he added. “It’s not just that I’m older, Darcy. It’s that I’m a parent, and I’m your teacher, and I’m the first adult you confided in… by accident.” It scared him to be so honest, but he couldn’t stop. “Maybe that’s the only reason you have feelings for me.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” she asked, at once confirming his greatest fear.

“Because,” he said slowly, finding it painful to string the words together, “then your feelings aren’t real.”

“My feelings are less real because you were the one person I could turn to, the one I could trust, the one I felt comfortable telling everything?” Darcy demanded. “Is that really what you think?”

“I don’t know,” Snake whispered, desperately. Darcy didn’t respond. “Earlier today, you said you liked me.” He paused. “But do you even know why?” He held his breath and awaited the inevitable silence. He was certain this would end it for good.

He was wrong.

“I like you,” she began, speaking slowly and fluidly, “because you wouldn’t put up with my crap even though you’re the kindest person I know. Because you followed me and sat down beside me when I felt like everyone else in my life was running away. I like you because you’re honest, because you ask the right questions and you actually listen. Because you didn’t give up on me, and because you found me the other night, without me even having to call and ask. Because you didn’t even ask where we were going. You just came.”

Her words were spilling rapidly now. “I like you because you held me all night and didn’t let go, not even once. The only reason I couldn’t leave the house after you did was because I didn’t want to leave the bed, because the sheets smelled like you and I wanted to stay there forever. I like you because I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today, because I spent my lunch hour in the library looking at old yearbooks just to get a glimpse into your life. I like you because I want to know everything about you, and it scares me almost to death.

“I like you because you don’t even seem to realize how amazing you are. And because I feel queasy and anxious and nervous and like I might throw up whenever I’m around you, but none of that changes the fact that I want the feeling to last forever.” She stopped and took a deep breath, staring him square in the eyes. “That’s why.”

His heart was pounding, and he pulled her towards him just as a car flew down the formerly empty street, exposing them in its headlights. Snake quickly let go.

Darcy smiled shakily. “And I don’t care that we have to keep it a secret,” she whispered. “It just makes you hotter.”

Snake laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me hot.”

“Not even in high school?” Darcy whistled, and he laughed again.

“Remind me that I owe you a lengthy monologue about why I like you,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.

“How ‘bout just a sentence or two?” she asked softly, leaning into his chest.

Snake didn’t even need to pause to think. “Because I was dead inside. You make me feel alive.”

Whatever She Needs: Devious (7/?) - Degrassi, PG-13

“Today we’ll be discussing the significance of viral video and the role it plays in media, especially politics.” Snake was pacing nervously back and forth across the classroom, but he couldn’t stop. Story of his life lately.

“Can anyone”—just then Darcy walked into the room, fashionably late as usual. She cast him a shy smile and he could feel his face heating up. All of this within a split second—“give me a recent example of this?” A few hands shot into the air; from the looks on their faces, no one noticed how flustered he had suddenly become. “Yes, Derek, go ahead.”

Snake proceeded to space out completely while Derek was talking, zeroing in on Darcy instead. Absentmindedly, he reached up to touch his lips—they still tasted faintly of her berry-flavored lip gloss—and remembered the kiss from only five hours before. It was Darcy who had finally pulled away—just as he had placed both hands on her slender waist, giving himself wholly over. She chose that moment to end it, fueling his shame and fear. “I’m sorry,” he had blurted reflexively.

She had smiled, then, temporarily subduing his paranoia. “Don’t be.” She leaned in one last time to plant a quick kiss on his lips. Snake had resisted the urge to pull her towards him, wrap his arms around her, prevent her from ever leaving. Seconds later, she was at the door, her bright green bag slung casually over one shoulder. “I’ll see you in class later,” she had said, turning, flashing a sly grin before stepping out into the hallway.

“Mr. Simpson?” Like that, he was cruelly swept back to the present, and it was Darcy speaking to him yet again.

“Yes?” he said, though in his mind he could have sworn he squeaked.

“What do you want us to do now?” It dawned on him that twenty-five pairs of eyes were staring at him expectantly.

“Well,” he began, struggling to keep his cool, “I want you all to start working on your next project, which will involve combining your knowledge of news media and viral video on sites like YouTube. You’ll have the rest of the period to brainstorm about what topic you’d like to research.” He said all this while trying to make eye contact with each of his students—all except Darcy. It was just too difficult. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask me,” he concluded, and sat down at his desk, hiding behind his monitor.

Barely five minutes passed before he sensed footsteps approaching him. “I have a question about the assignment,” she stated matter-of-factly. Then, in a much softer tone: “Can I see you after school today?” Snake felt a wave of panic and surveyed the room. Nearly all the students were wearing headphones to hear the sound of their videos, and several of them were chatting with each other at the same time. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, smiling.

“It’s in my nature,” Snake quietly replied. “You’ll get to learn that about me,” he added, then internally kicked himself for the deeper implications of his remark. Darcy only continued smiling in that sensual way that could have knocked him over, had he not been sitting already. He motioned to his monitor. “After school, I’m doing that.”

Darcy leaned in to see, which wasn’t really necessary—and he was certain she knew it, too. Her arm brushed lightly against his and he shivered at the near-contact, wishing her nearer still. “Apartment hunting already?” she asked. He could smell the intoxicating mixture of berry lip gloss and spearmint gum.

“I don’t really see any reason to put it off,” Snake admitted.

She stepped back to a more respectable distance and eyed him seriously before asking in a low tone, “Can I come with you?”

Snake didn’t know how to respond—rather, he knew how he should have responded, or would have responded, in another time when his life wasn’t flipped completely upside-down, when things were boring, but at least they all made sense. So he nodded, and she smiled and returned to her seat and he tried not to think about the fact that he was finding himself in deeper and deeper. The bell rang shortly after that and he barely noticed; the rest of the day drifted by in a surreal blur, nothing worth a damn: only her.

She was waiting for him in the zen garden after school, and he smiled, remembering that this was how it had all began. “Hey,” he said softly, peeking his head through the doorway. “Ready?”

“I don’t know if we can just leave together without anyone getting suspicious,” she admitted.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If anyone asks, I’m giving you a ride home.” She nodded and they walked together out the front doors of the school, down the steps, and across the parking lot to his car, all the while in total silence.

Snake fumbled with his keys before unlocking both doors, and they sat without saying a word as he started the car and drove down the road. After about a minute he turned onto a side street and drove a little bit further before pulling over and turning off the engine. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” he said.

“Do you want to just give me a ride home?” Darcy asked quietly.

Snake sighed. “No.”

They were both silent again. “Do you like me?” Snake didn’t answer, gripping the stirring wheel with both hands even though the car was in park and he hadn’t restarted the engine. No one had asked him that question since junior high. He turned to face her, keeping silent. “Do you, Mr. Simpson? Because I like you,” she said simply. “I like you a lot.”

Her words were bizarre, and he couldn’t help but comment aloud. “That’s just the problem. The words ‘I like you’ and ‘mister’ should never be in the same sentence.”

Darcy smiled; every time she did now, it seemed to grow more devious. “Snake,” she said, and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks once more, “I like you.” She paused. “You do like to be called Snake, right?”

Christine had rarely called him Snake—always Archie. Perhaps it made sense that a grown man shouldn’t be called Snake, but it defined him somehow, and he did like it. “Yes,” he admitted. “It reminds me of when I was young.” Back when his future had seemed hopeful and brighter, even within reach.

“You’re not old,” Darcy told him seriously.

A small laugh escaped him. “Thanks! I appreciate the confirmation.”

“No, I just mean—”

Snake cut her off. “I know what you mean. We’re not going to pretend this problem doesn’t exist. I’m thirty-four, you’re seventeen—”

“It’s seventeen years,” Darcy concluded. “What’s seventeen years?”

“Well, for starters, it’s as long as you’ve been alive. I’m exactly twice your age.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She reached over then to touch his arm, running her fingers gently down its length and stopping at his hand. He let go of the steering wheel and her palm met his. Their fingers interlocked, smooth skin alternating with weathered and freckled. He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. “You never answered my question before,” Darcy murmured, looking up at him.

Snake shifted closer and kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo. Then he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips, lingering there. She squeezed his hand more tightly and he swore he heard a tiny whimper escape her when he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “I like you, too,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers once more.

Whatever She Needs: Surrender (6/?) - Degrassi, PG-13

The school day was markedly unusual, however, because Darcy wasn’t there. Her empty desk and unfilled plastic chair were cruel aberrations, mocking him all day. It was almost laughable how Darcy could distract him so easily even when she wasn’t actually there. Of course, part of the issue was that he didn’t know where she was. Snake had assumed that she would take the next bus home, but now it was abundantly clear that she hadn’t done so. He didn’t even know what excuse she had given her parents regarding her whereabouts. Had she bothered to give one at all?

It was impossible to concentrate.

When he went home that evening and Spike proudly proclaimed that she would heat up his dinner from the night before, Snake stared at her, dumbfounded, and blurted, “Joey’s in Calgary.”

She glanced up and raised an eyebrow in confusion. A small laugh escaped her. “Okay. So he got back all right?”

Snake stared blankly, as if he were unable to process what was going on, and Spike’s eyes bore into his more urgently, the laughter fading, the suspicion rising, as it always did. “No,” he said bluntly, without emotion. “No, I mean… he’s been in Calgary. He never left.”

She dropped his plate on the table then, the sound startling them both. “Who did you see last night, Archie?” He didn’t answer. Instead he shook his head and fought to hide the smile creeping to his lips, because he shouldn’t have been smiling in the first place, and none of this should have been happening to begin with, but the fact was that it was and he saw no reason to stop it anymore. “Who did you see?” she demanded again, screaming now.

Snake realized that he could have said anything. He could have lied, could have said he was alone, that he just needed a night away. She might have believed it. Instead—inexplicably—he chose to exaggerate the truth. “I was with another woman.”

“You—oh my God.” Rage. Pure rage. Snake noted that it was the most impassioned she had been in months. “Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” she shrieked.

Within a span of about ten minutes, Snake collected a small portion of his belongings, packed them into his overnight suitcase, and got out. Joey’s couch wasn’t option this time, so he went to a hotel and paid for the cheapest room and allowed sleep and relief to wash over him as his head fell upon the unfamiliar pillow. He slept soundly that night and awoke with fleeting, disorganized thoughts of Darcy. She had such an intoxicating effect on him, he might as well have been high: drunk and high and free, finally free.

And best of all, there was no reason to hide it anymore, to hide anything. There was no need to feel ashamed. He marched into the school early that morning with a newfound confidence in his step; it was exhilarating, he felt on top of the world. He knew the feeling would pass; something would happen, he’d see Emma and it’d all come crashing down. He’d have to go back to the house and gather the rest of his things. But for now this was it, this was his reality, and he grinned widely, fearlessly, even flirtatiously when he walked into his classroom to find Darcy sitting at his desk, shifting anxiously in his chair.

“Okay, so, I know you probably don’t want to see me—” she stopped short, clearly confused. “Wow. You look happy.”

Snake’s smile filled his whole face. “I am happy.”

Darcy glanced down shyly before lifting her eyes to meet his steady gaze. “Happy to see me?” she asked, somewhat desperately, her cheeks tinged slightly pink.

Snake let his bag fall from his shoulder and sat on the edge of the desk, studying her face, wondering if he could read what lay embedded there, pick apart the damaged pieces. “Yes,” he said, his blue eyes locking with her deep brown ones. In them, he could see the heartache and vulnerability, and he saw her, he saw Darcy, but there was something else there, too—he didn’t recognize it at first; it had been so long. Then it dawned on him: she saw him, too.

He bit his bottom lip and said, “I left my wife last night. For good.”

“Whoa,” Darcy said, jumping suddenly out of the chair. “That’s… wow. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Her words spilled out nervously, and she added, as if she were looking for a confirmation, “That’s some non sequitur.” She waited, her eyes beseeching his.

“It wasn’t really a non sequitur at all,” Snake said softly. It was the answer she wanted, and she blushed harder still. “Darcy,” he whispered, “I want you to know that I was an idiot yesterday. I never should have said what I said before I left. I didn’t mean it. And for that I’m really, truly sorry.”

She inched closer to him; he could hardly stand it. “So I can take this… literally?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Snake breathed.

She moved in closer, and said nothing for several moments. Finally she let the forbidden words escape her. “You left your wife… because of me?”

Snake could no longer meet her intense gaze, so he closed his eyes; it was too much for him now. After a long pause, he looked up and nodded slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Darcy captured his lips in hers, wrapping her small, soft fingers delicately around the back of his neck, pressing harder with wanton desire. He didn’t want to move, unwilling to reciprocate but unwilling to pull away, his heart imploring his mind: Give in. Surrender.

And he did. Parting his lips to deepen the kiss, his senses heightened; he was overwhelmingly aware of her soft tongue massaging his own and the tips of her fingers lightly brushing against his skin, tracing circles just below his hairline. It was strange, this sensation of falling while soaring higher, yet acutely conscious of the inevitable crash to come.