326. Chapter 326

She’s never really used facetime.

Kara would just fly over when they wanted to see each other, and whenever she called Eliza, it was better for everyone involved that they couldn’t see each other (Eliza seeing Alex’s eye rolls and tightening lips and – pre-Maggie – chugging of bourbon to get through the conversation wouldn’t exactly help matters).

But with Maggie?

Now, facetime is the only way either of them get through their respective trips for work, because now? Now, going an entire day without seeing the other’s face would be cruel and unusual punishment.

Especially when one of them had had a day like Maggie’d just had, alone at a specialized training conference with a bunch of cishet white dude cops who weren’t even a little bit interested in listening to the small brown woman giving them a workshop on addressing the needs of – rather than punishing – queer youth who live on the streets.

Alex knows the moment the calls connect, the moment Maggie’s slightly pixelated face pops up on her phone’s screen, and her smile of anticipation fades into a look of cautious concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asks instead of her usual greeting, and she watches Maggie stiffen, watches Maggie work harder to arrange her face into something that’s not exhausted, something that’s not defeated, something that’s not rage boiling under resignation, under determination, under self-hate and under hopeful hopelessness.

“What? Nothing, it’s whatever, Danvers – how was your day? I heard Supergirl – “

“Yes, Kara had an eventful day, and yes, Kara is fine, but you, Maggie? You’re not. Talk to me,” she insists gently, she insists firmly, she insists steadily.

And it’s that steadiness – Alex’s steadiness – that makes Maggie gulp, that makes Maggie talk.

“Whatever, just… some assholes pulling some all lives matter shit, making a joke out of the kids I work with, and they don’t…” Maggie’s face swoops out of Alex’s view for a moment as Maggie shifts on her hotel bed. “They don’t get it, or care, I don’t know, who they’re hurting. How violent they’re being. Whatever, it’s whatever, I – “

“No, no, Maggie, it’s not whatever. You’re not whatever. I… Maggie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to hear all that nonsense. I… what do you need? What can I do? I can get Vasquez to come out there with me and we can kick some ass with you.”

That gets Maggie’s lips to turn upward, and she shakes her head before staring deeply at the screen for the first time this call, at Alex’s face, her eyes, for the first time this call.

“You’re beautiful, Danvers, you know that?”

“So are you, Maggie. So are you.”

A long pause. A lot of staring at each other. A lot of silent wishing that their hands could touch everything their eyes were feasting on.

“Why do they have so much hate in them? I mean, them, my… my father, hell, Lena’s mother, it… why – do you get it? Because I don’t.”

Her voice is small and her eyes are liquid and Alex’s heart breaks as she shakes her head slow, soft, somehow reassuring.

“I wish I could hold you right now, babe.”

Maggie’s breath comes out in a ragged exhale, and the static from it grates Alex’s ears, making her wish even more she were actually with her instead of just Facetiming her.

But they both have good imaginations. So Alex smiles faintly at Maggie’s trembling jaw.

“Close your eyes, babe.”

“So the yoga has been catching on after all, ey, Danvers?” Maggie tries, and Alex hears the sadness, the defeat, roiling underneath Maggie’s attempt at levity, but she lets it go.

“Hush up and close your eyes, Sawyer,” she teases right back, and she’s almost surprised when Maggie complies immediately.

A stray few strands of hair fall over her face, and Alex itches to tuck it behind Maggie’s ear.

A few days. She’ll be home in a few days.

Until then…

“Okay, so,” Alex starts, and she’s awkward, because she’s not good at this kind of intimate, emotional thing.

Or, rather, she never used to be. Because she never used to like it. But now? With Maggie? She’s miles away and she’s in pain and she doesn’t want to talk and it’s unfair to try to get her to when she’s all alone, and Alex just wants to help her.

So she’s awkward, but she tries.

“So,” she repeats, “imagine where you want my hands. I want… I want to smooth your hair out of your face…” Maggie smiles faintly with her eyes closed, and she pushes her own hair out of her face.

“Like that?” she whispers, eyes still closed.

Alex nods before realizing Maggie can’t see her.

“That’s right, babe. Except… except I’d kiss you, too. Your cheeks, your temples, your forehead. The bridge of your nose. And um… and I’d hold you. If I were there. I’d pull you close to me and kiss the back of your neck and let you listen to my heartbeat and I’d… I’d tell you I love you, and I’d tell you that you’re worth it, and that your feelings are real, and that I know you did an amazing job today, no matter what those assholes said. I’d tell you you’re perfect and I’d give you a backrub and I wouldn’t let you go until you fell asleep in my arms and had the sweetest dreams. Okay?”

Another long silence. So long Alex is mildly concerned that Maggie’s fallen asleep sitting up.

“You love me?”

Her voice is so soft, so low, that if Alex hadn’t watched her lips move, she wouldn’t have realized she’d said anything at all.

“I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone, Maggie,” she says, and her voice shakes, and Maggie’s lower lip quivers, and her eyes open, and they’re full of tears, and they’re full of something Alex swears means I love you too.

And she’s absolutely right.