239. Chapter 239

Her hand doesn’t only flit to the bottle when her not-dead father betrays her and everyone she’s ever loved.

Alex also reaches for the bottle – hard – when her very much alive mother comes within a fifty foot radius. Whenever her mother fixes her eyes on her and asks about work, about Kara, about oh Alexandra I don’t understand why everything has to be such a production with you, I only said you look tired because I’m worried about you.

Maggie notices – of course she does – and she switches her wine glass with her water glass, and she rubs her thigh with a steady hand under the table.

She doesn’t make Alex talk about it – she knows that there are some pains neither of them are ready to put to words – but after a particularly harrowing evening of how could you not have known, Alexandra, your sister apparently tried warning you, I thought you were trained to know when someone is manipulating you, Alex lays in Maggie’s lap, and Alex cries, and Alex talks.

“You know Kara broke my arm twice when we were kids? I mean it wasn’t her fault, she was still learning earth physics, the extend of her powers, you know? The first time I just cried – it hurt like nothing I’d felt before, physically – but the second time, I was angry. I yelled. I yelled at her, and my mom defended her. Kara. Which like, you know, sure, it was an accident and Kara was so upset. But instead of letting me calm down and comforting both of us, because we both deserved it in different ways? No no no. Not only did she scold me for yelling at Kara, but somehow it also became my fault that Kara had hurt me in the first place, something about I should have been more diligent about teaching her about our planet.”

Maggie grinds her teeth in bubbling rage, but she doesn’t stop stroking Alex’s hair gently, doesn’t stop nodding in soft encouragement for her to continue.

Because now that the flood gates are open, Alex doesn’t want to stop.

“I’d be doing things like my homework, you know, because nothing less than a perfect score was ever even an option, and suddenly she’d be in my room carrying on about something I had no idea about, like Kara had gotten made fun of or Kara was called out for daydreaming in class or Kara hadn’t chosen the right colleges to apply to – right according to Mom, obviously – or she’d said yes to the wrong boy for a date or she hadn’t pursued the right boy hard enough, hell, I don’t wanna think about what she’s gonna say now when she finds out Kara’s bi, that’ll be my fault somehow too.”

She groans slightly and turns her face into Maggie’s stomach while Maggie leans down to kiss her ear. She smiles against Maggie’s henley and turns back so her wet eyes are gazing up at Maggie again, and her voice cracks as she goes on.

“You know when we thought Dad died in a plane crash, I… I figured that was my fault, too? Because hell, everything else was. All the time. All my fault, everything…”

Her voice squeaks and her lips tremble, because suddenly she’s not in her past – suddenly her past is firmly in her present, and she’s seeing Jeremiah’s destroyed but enhanced but destroyed arm and she’s hearing Jeremiah telling his own daughter to shoot him dead and it’s her fault, her fault, her fault, how could it not be, he’d even gone as far as to say it, her fault, her fault, just like everything, her fault, her fault, her fault.

She doesn’t realize that she’s started to sob until she’s gasping desperately for breath, and Maggie holds her, soothes her, kisses every part of her face she can reach. Alex grabs at Maggie’s shirt and covers the visible part of her face with her other hand, but only for a moment, only for a moment, because Maggie’s soft lips and warm breath and sweet words are more important than hiding, more helpful than shame, more powerful than every ounce of guilt her mother had instilled deep into her bones.

“You’re perfect, Ally,” Maggie whispers when Alex’s breath evens somewhat, when she can breathe rather than gasp.

“You’re perfect, sweetie, and not because you got good grades or because you always did exactly what your mother expected of you. You’re perfect because you’re exactly who you are: because you love so fiercely, because you feel so hard. Because you had every reason to hate Kara because of what your mom made her to you, but you love her so spectacularly, and that… that’s perfect, Alex. You are perfect and you are so, so, so worth it, babe. None of what you’re saying is your fault. None of it. And if I have to spend my entire life arguing with the parts of you that are convinced it’s your fault, I will. I will. And I’ll win.”

Alex swallows a soft sob and she lets Maggie wipe the tear tracks from her face.

“If you win, will I have to eat more vegan ice cream?”

“Oh my god, Danvers.”

“You love me.”

“I do. I do. I do.”