323. Chapter 323

She didn’t tell her that she knew, the moment she looked up on that tarmac and saw her, that she was going to fall in love with her.

And not because Alex was the most beautiful woman Maggie had ever seen (even though she was). It was the way she carried herself, her confidence, her fierce protectiveness. Hell, even her territorial, borderline condescending arrogance.

She didn’t tell her that that knowledge put a pit in her stomach, because she’d made the mistake of cheating before. She’d been self-destructive enough to let herself get caught in that damn Baldwin hotel with some girl she barely knew, because Emily had suggested moving in together, taking the next step. And it couldn’t be real, it couldn’t last. So she’d made sure it didn’t.

She wouldn’t do that again. Even if her current relationship – now her ex – was on the rocks anyway, was borderline abusive anyway.

She didn’t tell her that her ex never picked her up from the job. Certainly not from the field.

She didn’t tell her that her ex was the jealous type, that the night they’d busted – and then been forced to release – Roulette, her ex had texted, wanting to know where she was. If her new secret service friend was with her. The one who’d busted up the bar just to find her. The one who literally threw herself into fire to save her life. The one who’d patched her up after.

She didn’t tell her that her ex only showed to pick Maggie up that night because she wanted Alex to know that Maggie was hers, hers, hers.

She didn’t tell her because telling her would involve telling her that she was falling for her. And that wouldn’t be fair. Wouldn’t be safe.

For anyone.

She didn’t tell her that when Alex first kissed her next to that pool table, she saw stars, she saw fireworks. She saw everything she’d ever wanted, and nothing she’d ever had.

She didn’t tell her that pulling back, that telling her no, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. And she’d done a lot of hard things.

She didn’t tell her that her ex’s words stung her, bad, cut her, hard, but that underneath it, she was relieved. Relieved to be dumped, because maybe, Alex, maybe, it could… no. She didn’t tell her because she couldn’t tell her because she couldn’t destroy someone as perfect, as beautiful, as gorgeous – inside, outside – as Alex Danvers.

She didn’t tell her that her only thought after getting shot by Cyborg Superman, on feeling the mechanical poisons from his laser rip through her bloodstream, was Alex. Alex, Alex, Alex.

She didn’t tell her that confessing that she wanted to kiss her was scarier than her first mission out with the Science Division.

She didn’t tell her that she could never quite believe that they were together, that Alex wanted to be with her, that Alex wanted to love her. Didn’t tell her that she didn’t think she was worth it. That she only ever destroyed the women she touched. Only ever destroyed herself.

The first time they made love, she didn’t tell her that no woman had ever made her moan like that, scream like that. Ever. Until Alex.

The third or fourth time they made love, she didn’t tell her that no other woman had ever made her cum. She didn’t tell her that she’d just thought she couldn’t cum during sex. She didn’t tell her that when her body rocked through the deepest, hardest orgasm she’d ever had, all over Alex’s thigh, with Alex’s strong hands on her hips, on her back, she almost wept, because god, god, god, she didn’t tell her that no one had ever paid attention to her needs, her raw desires, like that.

She didn’t tell her that she was in love with her. Fully, irreparably, completely, absolutely in love with Alex Danvers.

She didn’t tell her, that is, until Alex was laying in the DEO’s med bay, barely breathing after a series of surgeries, barely recovering from a collapsed lung, second-degree burns over a quarter of her body, a series of broken ribs, courtesy of Cadmus’s revenge for Alex’s single-handedly blowing up their biggest facility.

She didn’t tell her that her stomach was sicker than it ever had been, even when her father stood over her fourteen year-old self, watching her pack the one bag she’d been allowed to take before she had to leave his house forever – she didn’t tell her, because Alex, barely conscious, didn’t need to hear that right now. Alex only needed to hear one thing.

“You have to get better, Danvers. You have to get through this. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met, Ally, and I need you. I need you, and I’ve never… I’ve never needed anyone. But I need you, Alex Danvers, because I… because I am so wildly in love with you, and I… I love you, Alex. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please be okay. Please.”

Alex’s eyes stirred under closed lids and Maggie’s heart leaps when Alex’s lips twitch and her eyes, slowly, blink open. Kara inhales deeply on Alex’s other side, hope returning to her tear-stained eyes.

“You… love me?” she croaked in a voice so ragged that it almost sounded nothing like hers. Kara reached for the cup of water and straw by the bedside and put it to Alex’s cracked lips. Alex sipped and gave her sister a faint smile.

“Hey Kara,” she tried to lift a groggy hand to Kara’s face. Kara stilled it, kissed it, gave Maggie an unsure glance because maybe Alex didn’t remember what she just heard two seconds ago.

“The pretty lady I’m in love with is in love with me too. Whaddaya know?” she whispered, and Maggie sobbed with relief as Kara laughed and J’onn, at the foot of the bed, breathed for the first time in hours.

So maybe, just maybe, telling Alex Danvers the things that she felt wasn’t such a terrifying idea after all.