144. Chapter 144

Alex is out of the country and Kara is bleeding.

And Kara is not used to bleeding.

She’s sore and she’s shaken and she’s emotionally beaten down, because an agent was killed, and as many times as Winn and J’onn and James have told her that it wasn’t her fault, that there was nothing she could have done, that Cadmus’s new rifles had incapacitated her and it was all she could do to get herself and the other five agents out safely, and she had done an excellent job at that, she still feels the weight of the dead agent’s family, his memory, directly on her shoulders, directly in her hands, directly shredding her heart.

She shrugs Winn off and she insists to James that she’s fine and she waves of J’onn’s attempts to buoy her spirits, and they’re about to follow, they’re about to buy pizza and potstickers and call Alex, but Maggie puts a hand on James’s arm and Maggie stares after Kara’s slumping shoulders and she tells them, “Alex is on a plane, she can’t get your calls right now anyway. Don’t worry about Little Danvers: I’ve got this.”

J’onn nods and James kisses Maggie’s forehead and Winn slips her a twenty so she doesn’t have to foot the inevitably large food bill on her own, and Maggie trails Kara on her Triumph to her apartment.

She doesn’t knock, because she knows Kara won’t answer.

She picks her lock instead, and she knows that Kara knows, because Kara has superhearing and x-ray vision, and Kara could stop her if she wanted to.

But she doesn’t want to. She just doesn’t have the energy to invite her help.

But Maggie gives it, anyway.

When she slips open the door, Kara is wrapped in blankets on the couch, an old black and white film that she’s staring straight through on her television.

“You don’t have to do this, Maggie,” she says without looking at her, and her tone is more hollow than Maggie has ever heard it.

“No, I don’t. But I want to.”

She sets the pizza, ice cream, and potstickers on the counter, and Kara turns at the soft sound.

“Why?” Kara demands.

Maggie tilts her head and waits.

“Why what, Kara?” she asks softly, even though she already knows.

“Why would you want to?” Kara’s fumbling her way out of the mess of blankets, now, her actions rougher, angrier, than Maggie has ever seen her make while she’s wearing her glasses, while she’s wearing her cardigans instead of her family crest.

Maggie just takes a deep, quiet breath. She doesn’t move, and she doesn’t answer. She waits, because she knows Kara isn’t done.

And she’s right, because Kara is up, now, standing, now, and Kara’s face is reddening, now, and Kara is building into a rage.

“Why would you bring me anything, why would you waste your time coming all the way over here, Alex isn’t here, it’s just me, me, and you don’t owe me anything, Maggie, especially not today, especially not when I got a man killed! You know he had a three year old daughter? I met her last week, she was wearing a Supergirl shirt. A Supergirl shirt, and now her mother is going to have to explain to her how Supergirl got her father killed, because what, I was bleeding? So what? You bleed in the field all the time, Alex bleeds in the field all the time, and you keep going, you keep moving! But me? I let a man die! He was Alex’s age, Maggie, Alex’s age! And he’s gone and it’s my fault and my side hurts and it shouldn’t matter, it’s just a cut, I shouldn’t care, but I do, I do, I just – “

And Maggie sweeps forward, because this is the moment that Kara breaks.

She’s taller than Maggie, much, but she crumples into her arms and Maggie has her, has her, has her, has her as she sobs, has her as gasps chaotically for breath, has her as her entire body dissolves in shakes, in shivers, in convulsions of sorrow and tremors of regret.

“Shhhh, I got you Kara, I got you, I got you. Shhhhhhh, that’s right honey, get it all out, get it all out, shhhhh, good girl,” Maggie whispers, whispers, whispers, as she pulls Kara back down onto the couch, gathers Kara into her arms, gathers Kara back into the blankets.

“I’m…. s-s… I’m sorry,” Kara sobs as she soaks Maggie’s henley with her tears, with her runny nose.

“No apologies, Little Danvers, no apologies,” Maggie rocks her, kissing each tear as they fall, kissing her hair, kissing her forehead. Kara grabs at her with her hands, and Kara flinches, because her knuckles are bruised, her knuckles are sore, and Maggie notices, and Maggie gently takes each hand and kisses each knuckle, kisses each bruise, as Kara’s shuddering slows, as Kara’s breathing regulates, as Kara’s sobbing transitions into silent tears spilling out of her eyes onto Maggie’s shirt, onto Maggie’s skin.

“I’m sorry, Maggie,” she whispers again. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t deserve comfort, I – “

“Kara. What happened is not your fault. It’s not. People – good people, Kara, people with kids and wives and husbands and siblings and parents – people have died out on missions with me, too, with your sister. You gonna blame me, Alex, for those deaths, honey?”

Kara sighs defeatedly and Kara shakes her head, and Maggie kisses her tear tracks, her fingers stroking her hair thoughtfully, softly, comfortingly.

“I know it’s hard, Kara, but you’ve gotta try to be as gentle with yourself as you are with other people. You’ve gotta try. Okay?”

Kara swallows and nods, and shifts so her body is closer to Maggie’s.

Eventually, Kara’s stomach roars, and Maggie laughs, and even Kara smiles slightly. Maggie gets up and grabs the massive amount of food and melted ice cream she’d brought, and she feeds her girlfriend’s kid sister, because her girlfriend’s kid sister is rapidly becoming like her own kid sister. Because her girlfriend’s kid sister – much like her girlfriend – feels the world so acutely in her own hands.

The food sates Kara for a while, fights away Kara’s sorrow, Kara’s guilt, Kara’s rage, for a while. They cuddle and they watch films and they let themselves simply be, but being right now is dangerous for Kara, so the tears start flowing again, the shaking starts wracking her body again.

So Maggie resumes her whispers, resumes her kisses to Kara’s hands, to her forehead, to her tear-stained cheeks.

They don’t hear the door when it clicks open, but suddenly Alex is in the doorway, her face pale, her chest heaving, because J’onn met her as she got off the plane, J’onn told her, and Alex ran.

She sees her girlfriend’s arms wrapped around her little sister’s shaking body, her girlfriend’s lips on her little sister’s forehead, hears her girlfriend’s soothing voice in her little sister’s ear.

And in that moment, Alex knows two things: that her little sister is going to be just fine, because damn is she well loved.

And her girlfriend? Her girlfriend is going to be her wife, because damn is she perfect.