228. Chapter 228

Come over.

That’s all the text says.

That’s all it says, and that’s all she’s heard from Alex all day, which is unusual, but she’s not surprised.

Not surprised today, because today was her dad’s first day back in the DEO.

Today was all about Jeremiah, all about Alex, and Maggie is alright with that.

Of course she is.

But when she gets her text – her simple text – she rushes.

She knocks, because she could let herself in, but today was bound to be emotional, and today was bound to be hard.

She’s surprised when Alex just says “yeah.”

When the door is unlocked.

Because Alex Danvers never leaves her door unlocked.

But Maggie doesn’t know – not yet, not yet – that Alex texted Maggie and drank her way through a quarter bottle of liquor, straight.

Maggie doesn’t know – not yet, not yet – that Alex left the door unlocked because she trusted Maggie to rush. And she didn’t trust her legs to be able to get her to the door smoothly by the time Maggie gets there.

”Hey,” she offers as she steps inside, locking the door softly behind her because she knows Alex feels better that way. Hell, she feels better that way.

Alex doesn’t turn toward her, and part of Maggie relishes the trust they’ve built in just a few months. The other part of her stomach sinks as she walks around to try to get a look at her girlfriend’s face.

The other part of her stomach sinks as she sees the liquor bottle that she happens to know was much, much more full this morning.

”What’s wrong?”

Alex says nothing, and Maggie braces herself on the counter with a shaky hand.

“How was your dad’s first day?” she asks, her voice soft, her voice nervous, her voice just this side of apologetic.

Alex answers by draining her drink – draining it long and hard and completely – and Maggie’s eyes watch the way Alex’s hands are oh so slightly unsteady, the way her eyes are oh so slightly unfocused.

The way her eyes have been refusing to meet hers this entire time.

“That good, huh?”

She shifts onto the stool in front of Alex, grateful for the way Alex responds to her touch on her calf, the way she automatically moves her foot so Maggie can sit down.

Grateful, at least, that Alex seems to want her there. Seems to accept needing her there.

Even if she won’t speak.

Even if she won’t look at her.

She goes to pour herself another, and Maggie’s heart clenches.

”Whoa whoa whoa, okay. Hold on.” She guides Alex’s hands away from the bottle and Alex just retreats into herself, looking for all the world like a small scolded child, in that little grey hoodie, shoulders rounded, arms limp, body as tiny as she can make it without actually scrunching up.

It breaks Maggie’s heart. But not, she knows, as much as Alex’s heart must be breaking.

”Hey,” she says, and Alex still won’t look up. Maggie touches her arm softly, softly. “I’m here. Okay? You can tell me anything.”

Alex nods, but she still won’t look up, and Maggie’s left hand reaches for her, almost of its own accord, and her index finger settles gently, tenderly, softly, under Alex’s chin.

”Hey, look at me.”

Alex does, and there is nothing but raw defeat in her eyes. Raw pain. Raw agony. Raw torture.

It stops Maggie’s breath, and she tilts her head to keep herself together. Tilts her head to keep her eyes soft, her breathing regular. Because she needed Alex on Valentine’s Day and Alex had held her and listened to her and soothed her all night long.

And tonight is Alex’s Valentine’s Day.

Fathers. Fathers. Fathers.

”What happened with your dad?”

Her voice is soft and her eyes are earnest and Alex takes a shuddering breath in, and Maggie’s heart breaks more than it is already broken.

Alex’s lips tremble and she glances up at Maggie’s eyes, on her own for the first time since she walked in, and Maggie knows.

Knows that her eyes are her words, right now, and that’s all she needs.

She stands and she pulls her close.

”Oh, sweetie. Oh.” She pulls Alex’s face into her chest, draws her back into her body, settles the side of her face onto Alex’s hair, and soothes her, soothes her, holds her, as she starts to cry.

As she starts to sob.

No.

As she starts to weep.

The first two shuddering breaths she takes, Maggie thinks her heart might burst from the pain of it.

And then her voice catches in her tears, catches in her growing hysteria, and Maggie turns her face more toward her, expressionless, expressionless, because her own heart, now, is numb. Because if she allows herself to feel the pain, the rage, the agony, of hearing Alex Danvers, feeling Alex Danvers, come completely apart like that in her arms, she would be the one unraveling.

And her baby needs her. Her sweetheart needs her.

She’s grateful when Alex grabs onto her, more than just a hand on her arm, but her other arm wrapped completely around Maggie’s back and grabbing at her shirt.

Grabbing at her shirt like her grasp and her grasp alone can keep Maggie holding her, can keep Maggie close, can keep Maggie from disappearing.

But she needn’t worry, because Maggie wouldn’t leave her right now, or ever. Not even with the most powerful forces on earth standing against her. Not even with all of Cadmus’s worst weapons trained at her head –

“I…” Alex is gasping, but it comes out like a yelp, like a scream, like a plea, and Maggie kisses her hair and rubs her back.

”I’m here, sweetie, I’m here, shhhh, breathe, Ally. Breathe, breathe, breathe.”

Alex gasps again, yelps again, and Maggie’s face remains motionless.

She swears to herself will murder Lilian Luthor for what she’s done to Alex the first chance she gets, Kara’s feelings for her daughter be damned.

”I coul – I couldn’t kill him, Maggie, I couldn’t… I couldn’t kill him,” she’s gasping, she’s pleading, she’s praying, she’s begging, and Maggie kisses her hair again, again, again, rocks her slightly, holds her face close into her chest.

She doesn’t tell her that she doesn’t understand, doesn’t tell her to slow down and start from the beginning, doesn’t tell her to regulate herself.

Because she loves her, loves her, loves her, and it doesn’t matter if she has all the pieces to the Jeremiah Danvers puzzle just yet: all that matters is that she holds the pieces of his broken daughter together, safe, loved, with her bare hands.

”Of course you couldn’t, Ally, he’s your dad. He’s your dad, he’s still your dad,” she whispers, because she doesn’t know, but she can imagine, and her vow to destroy Lilian grows that much stronger.

”He said…” She’s gasping again, and Maggie nods as she rubs her back and kisses her damp forehead, because Alex’s entire body is shuddering with agony, and Maggie is so proud of her girl for letting it out.

So grateful that she trusts her enough to cry to her like about Jeremiah the way Maggie had cried about her own father.

Fathers. Fathers. Fathers.

”He said he was doing it for me. Betrayed everyone I… I love… for me.”

Maggie’s heart breaks, because she knows Alex.

She pulls back and Alex grabs at her desperately, and Maggie gives her a small, broken smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Al, but look at me.” Alex won’t, and Maggie lifts her chin again tenderly, softly, lovingly.

Alex’s eyes are beautiful, even swimming in torture, even swollen with tears, even red with agony.

”Hi,” Maggie whispers, and the ghost of a smile dances across Alex’s features.

”Alex, whatever he’s done – whatever he’s doing – it is not your fault. It’s not your fault that he started in the first place, and it’s not your fault that you let him go.”

Alex scoffs and tries to reach for the bottle again, but Maggie brings her hands to her lips instead, and kisses each knuckle in turn as Alex watches, as Alex cries silently.

”You are an incredible, powerful, brave, smart woman, Alex. You know – you know – that this isn’t your fault. That none of this is on you. You know what the brave thing was, Alex? Not pulling that trigger. The brave thing was compassion. The brave thing was empathy. The brave thing was looking out for your soul, because you never would have forgiven yourself if you killed him, Alex, and you don’t deserve to live with that. The brave thing was trusting the people you love – the people he betrayed – to fix this. With you. As a team. What is it Kara’s symbol means, stronger together, right? The brave thing was trusting that, Ally. Trusting the people who love you best.”

She pauses and she watches the hope growing in Alex’s eyes, watches the self-loathing seep out of her shoulders, out of her jawline.

She has never been in love like this.

”Trusting me,” she adds in a voice so small she barely hears herself say it.But Alex hears it. She hears it and her eyes widen and her breath pauses and her lips part slightly.

“I do,” she whispers back, her voice raspy with tears. “Trust you.”

Maggie stares at her, trying to read her eyes, trying to read if the word trust is, right now, a substitute for something else. Something like love.

“I trust you, too, Alex.” Another long pause, and Maggie swears Alex is trying to figure out the same thing she is.

“We’re going to fix this. Together. You and me and Kara and J’onn and James and Winn. You have people who love you, Alex, to the ends of the earth and so far beyond. I promise you, we’re going to fix this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Alex murmurs, leaning forward to rest her head again on Maggie’s chest.

“You deserve everything wonderful and nothing less, Alex Danvers. I promise you that.”

Alex sighs and snuggle closer into her, and warmth courses through Maggie’s boiling veins.

“Stay tonight?” Alex pleads into her shirt softly, softly, softly.

“I’m here, Ally. Always.”