At their centre, Darcy is a person of great faith.
For a while, it seemed like all they had were doubts. About what they were doing, who they were, what they were for. The past year has taught them by sections and by parts that their doubt arises only from not having faith in theirself. They gave theirself a goal, they made a choice for theirself about their own body, they found even a small temporary purpose to devote theirself to. And it has been good. Terrifying. But good.
On the other hand, there are some parts of their faith that have never shaken. Never, even after their murders did they wake up and doubt God. Never did they doubt that death would one day collect its dues. And, since she has been in their life, never have they doubted Helena. Stalwart as the pole star, stubborn as the dawn, beautiful as a morning dew and fragrance of flowers unfurling petals soft as her hands. Every moment of kindness, every moment of selflessness, every moment where Darcy knew they could put theirself in her hands. Someone who knows the value of what she's holding. Who sees them as more than a guard dog, as more than a weapon, even when Darcy wanted to be hard as steel and sharp as teeth. Helena has let them become what they are, and let them come home to theirself.
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For a while, it seemed like all they had were doubts. About what they were doing, who they were, what they were for. The past year has taught them by sections and by parts that their doubt arises only from not having faith in theirself. They gave theirself a goal, they made a choice for theirself about their own body, they found even a small temporary purpose to devote theirself to. And it has been good. Terrifying. But good.
On the other hand, there are some parts of their faith that have never shaken. Never, even after their murders did they wake up and doubt God. Never did they doubt that death would one day collect its dues. And, since she has been in their life, never have they doubted Helena. Stalwart as the pole star, stubborn as the dawn, beautiful as a morning dew and fragrance of flowers unfurling petals soft as her hands. Every moment of kindness, every moment of selflessness, every moment where Darcy knew they could put theirself in her hands. Someone who knows the value of what she's holding. Who sees them as more than a guard dog, as more than a weapon, even when Darcy wanted to be hard as steel and sharp as teeth. Helena has let them become what they are, and let them come home to theirself.
So they kiss her. That's all that needs to be said.