354. Chapter 354

She doesn’t speak for an entire week.

An entire week where she refuses to open her mouth, even to eat, to drink.

She accepts the IV fluids, nutrients, without complaint, without comment.

Without comment because she won’t open her mouth.

Won’t open her mouth because if she does, the water will rush in.

If she does, her lungs won’t just burn. They’ll burn while they drown.

If she does, she will never stop screaming.

If she does, she will never see her sister again.

At least her death will be protecting her. She’d told her in no uncertain terms to negotiate. That Supergirl – that Kara – is bigger than her. So at least her death will protect her.

Maybe Eliza will take comfort in that.

Maybe Eliza will finally be proud of her.

But she wants to live even more than she needs her mother’s approval, so she doesn’t open her mouth.

If she does, the screaming won’t be hers.

It’ll be Kara’s, it’ll be Maggie’s.

James has already lost his father.

Winn had only just started to have a family.

J'onn’s already lost too many daughters.

J'onn can’t lose her too.

Won’t.

So she doesn’t open her mouth.

Even though he’s standing over her, even though he’s keeping watch over her. Over her sister. Over her girlfriend. Over his sons.

She wonders who’s keeping watch over him.

But she doesn’t open her mouth.

Not when Vasquez drops in to visit, to force Maggie to shower, to eat something.

Not when Lena comes to visit, to force Kara to do the same.

Not even when M'gann rushes in, windswept and desperate, like she just launched herself through the vacuum of space to get to her, to get to J'onn.

Not when M’gann forces James and Winn to help each other eat. Shower. When she nearly has to wrestle J'onn to make him do the same.

Alex just watches.

Unblinkingly.

Never with her eyes closed.

Never with her eyes closed, until the drugs they pump into her force her to, because it’s a relief, really, to see people, other people, people who love her, instead of her own reflection in that damned cage.

Instead of her own panicked eyes, floating hair, her own drowning body.

She watches, but she doesn’t speak.

And they don’t ask her to.

Kara tells her stories. Stories she used to tell her when they were kids – when they were kids and Rick had a crush on her and all she could think about was how he meant Eliza would be proud, even though she’d rather spend time with Vicky Donahue – about Krypton and about laughter and about alien science.

Winn sets up a video game console in the room and he has James and M'gann play Mario Kart with him. They all look at her more than they look at the screen, and Winn thinks he sees her almost crack a smile once.

“You’re my sister, Alex. Both of ours,” he tells her in the silence after, James taking her other hand and nodding. “We’re never gonna lose each other, understand?”

She understands that he doesn’t want to ever lose each other.

She also understands that there’s nothing he or any of them can do to prevent it.

She blinks at him, and that’s as much of a response as she’s been giving anyone, so he squeezes her hand and accepts it.

James talks to her about CatCo, about being Guardian. About how much he admires her for being a superhero without a suit.

“This doesn’t change that, you know, Alex. You’re not weak and you haven’t failed. If it had happened to any of us, you’d tell us the same. I know it’s easier said than believed, but it’s true.”

M'gann tells her stories of Mars, of red skies and fighting white supremacy, of old loves and new hopes.

J'onn says nothing, except that he couldn’t be prouder to have her as a daughter. He lets the rest of their time together lay in silence.

Neither of them are much for words.

But Maggie says even less than J'onn. Almost as little as Alex.

She never leaves. It’s James who calls her captain and arranges paid time off for her. It’s M'gann who forces her to shower when Vasquez can’t do anything more, but like Kara, Maggie refuses to go anywhere other than the bathroom right off the med bay. It’s M'gann, too, who forces her to eat, but she won’t do it anywhere but Alex’s bedside.

She just stares at Alex.

Stares at her eyes. At her chest, like she’s making sure it’s still rising and falling with her breath.

With life.

And that’s exactly what she’s doing, what she’s assuring herself of.

None of them try to get Alex to talk, but they all let her know she’s loved.

Cared for.

Watched over.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

The first nightmare that breaks through the sedative has her talking again.

Or screaming, more like.

For Supergirl. Whose life is worth more than hers. Whose life is so valuable that it doesn’t matter what happens to hers.

Supergirl is too important.

Her screams make Kara hold her, whisper to her, as she wakes up.

Her screams make Maggie stand, make Maggie, for the first time since they found her, string together more than a few coherent words.

“You matter too, Alex. You’re important. Yes, your sister is important, Danvers, your sister is everything because she’s your sister, but did you ever stop to think that maybe there is no Supergirl without Alex Danvers? Did you really think you’re the only one willing to die for the people in this room? Did you really think the people who love you could ever bear to live without you? Did you really think Kara could live without you? That I could live without you?”

Alex blinks and Maggie’s low voice cracks and Kara blinks out tears and Winn’s eyes widen and James holds his arm because he knows Winn scares at raised voices, even if they’re raised in beautiful words, and J'onn stares at his daughter and M'gann stares at hers, and nobody, nobody, nobody breathes.

And then Alex says her first words since her gasping, desperate greetings when they’d found her.

Her voice is chapped and her voice is gravel, but her voice is alive, alive, alive.

“The people who love me?”

Maggie cracks a small, wet grin through her tearstained face.

“More than I’ve ever loved anyone, Alex Danvers. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I’m sorry I didn’t let you tell me, I’m sorry I almost waited too long for this first, I – “

But Alex is reaching for her and Alex is kissing her, kissing her, kissing her, and M'gann is escorting everyone else out of the room because they need this moment, they need forever’s worth of first moments like this.

"So life is too short, and we should tell the girls we love that we love them, huh?” she asks when they break for breath, breath that Maggie easily breathes into Alex’s lungs, safe, safe, safe. Loved.

“Something like that, Danvers,” Maggie smiles against her lips, and Alex lets herself cry, lets herself break, lets herself be… loved.

“I love you back, Maggie. I love you back, I love you back, I love you back.”

Neither of them say aside from variations of those three words for hours – hours while they kiss, while they touch, while they cry and while they breathe, breathe, breathe – they say nothing but I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.