It was to be expected that Clark would tell her that it wasn't her fault; there was nothing she could do. Kon was stubborn seemed to be the excuse he gave to make her feel better, but it never really did. It didn't matter that even Darcy knew there wasn't anything she could do more than she had; she still wished she could have done more. Instead of refuting Clark, though, and making things more uncomfortable than they already felt, Darcy just gave a solemn nod of agreement to drop the subject. It didn't mean she felt any less a part of Kon's death, but she wasn't going to push it because neither of them wanted to have that discussion, she was sure.
Even though Clark gave her no outward facial expression to back up the fact that he said he was glad she was there, somehow, Darcy could still tell that he meant it. She wasn't sure whether it was because it was in his eyes...or if she just felt it, but there it was. "Me too," she admitted. For a moment, she just stared back at him. She almost decided to wait it out to see what would happen, but then she remembered her new resolve. She stood on tip toe — which was a lot harder than she'd remembered it being before she was pregnant — reached up, and cupped the back of Clark's neck to guide him down to reach and she pressed her lips against his forehead briefly before letting go and lowering herself back onto flat feet.
Darcy's eyes remained on Clark. She could see it all over his face, no matter how or whether he was trying to hide it, that Clark had a lot of emotion and pain bottled up. Whether it was for her benefit or just out of a stereotype-driven habit, Darcy wasn't sure, but she'd seen the expression before...in the mirror. Clark needed to cry, even if he probably didn't want to. And that...made Darcy want to cry. Nay, it actually made her start to cry, even as she raised a hand to cover her face and shake her head. "I'm sorry," she said genuinely, "I, like, have no control over this shit, anymore," she admitted, blinking away tears that she felt she had no right to be shedding and sniffing with as much dignity as she could muster.
And then, she moved away from Clark, head down and face red with shame and embarrassment as she tried to pull herself together. She made her way to Clark's couch, dropped down, wiped her face, took a deep breath, and let it out in a huff. And just like that, Darcy couldn't cry anymore. Clearing her throat, Darcy pulled herself back together and pressed a hand absently against a baby foot pushing its way up against her stomach, leaving a slow-moving lump in its wake as the baby moved. "Sorry," she said again, finally looking back at Clark. "I'm good. I'm...I'll..." she cleared her throat one more time and swallowed thickly, nodding as if to convince herself. "I'm good," she repeated, almost meaning it.
It was time for another subject change. "Come here," she asked more than demanded. "They're moving again but it's easier to feel it on the outside now than it was back in camp," she added. "Come feel." Darcy didn't realize consciously that she was trying to push away from the discussion and grief of Kon's death by replacing it with discussion of impending new life.