253. Chapter 253

When they get home from Kara’s – it’s almost sunup, now, and the only reason they come back to Alex’s is precisely because Kara has no bathtub and Alex is stiff as all get out from falling asleep at such an awkward angle, cuddling both her little sister and her girlfriend – Maggie draws her a bath while she brews her a strong coffee.

“Maggie, you don’t have to do that,” Alex’s voice is soft as she tries to work out the stiffness in her own torso at the same time as she sends a text to James and Winn to please be there with Kara when she wakes up.

“Don’t have to do what, dote on my beautiful arm candy who almost got flung across the galaxy after single-handedly infiltrating and exploding a genocidal hotspot last night?”

Alex quirks her lips to the side and shakes her head.

“When you insist on putting it that way – “

“I do, Danvers. Come here.”

She leads her to the bathroom, where bubbles are nearly overflowing the bath, and candles are glowing softly on the sink.

“Maggie,” Alex breathes.

“Take your time, sweetie. I’ll be here when you get out.”

But Alex grabs her hand.

“Stay?”

Maggie’s heart trembles with gratitude, because god, she hadn’t wanted to let Alex out of her sight for more than a second, but she also hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her.

“Of course.” She puts the toilet seat down and sits, fiddling with her phone until she finds some soft jazz. She watches without comment as Alex strips slowly, painfully, and she mentally catalogues every new bruise, every new gash.

When Alex slips out of the bath a full hour later, Maggie wraps her in a towel and leads her to bed, shrugging out of her own clothes and cuddling up close to her.

Her fingers trace soft patterns on Alex’s arms, her torso, her face, and every time she comes upon a fresh injury, she stops.

“Can I kiss it better, Danvers?” she’ll always ask, and always, Alex will swoon.

Always, Alex will say yes.

Her lips always flutter around the injury first, tracing its limits and its boundaries, as though delineating them and mandating that the bruise will spread no further than the border she’s marked with her mouth. And then slowly, gently, so softly Alex can sometimes barely feel it, Maggie presses her lips to each bruise, to each cut, to each scrape, to each soon-to-be scar.

She says something different each time.

“You’re perfect, Alex.”

“You are so fucking brave, Danvers.”

“Do you want me to take care of whoever did this to you? Because I’m just saying, if you let me borrow that gun again, or just give me that grenade, I’m down. Hell, I’m down without them, too.”

“You are so goddamn precious, Ally.”

“I’m yours, you know. And you’re never gonna lose me.”

Alex leans up on her elbows at that.

“You’re never going to lose me, either.”

Maggie trembles, her bravado, her care-taking, gone, transforming in an instant to let Alex see the pure terror, the rage, the pain, the agony, of coming so close to losing her forever.

“You’re never going to lose me, babe.”

She gathers Maggie into her arms and presses soft kisses to the back of her neck while Maggie cries, while Maggie trembles, while Maggie grabs at her hands and holds them tight.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

“Don’t leave,” Maggie whispers raggedly, and Alex nods away her own tears.

“I won’t, babe. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.”