377. Chapter 377
She’s thrown things and she’s screamed and she’s stormed out of the apartment and she’s wanted to, wanted to, god, she’s wanted to.
But she hasn’t had a drink in three months and fourteen days.
Three months and fourteen days because Maggie Sawyer noticed. And Maggie Sawyer cared.
But she almost gets catapulted across the galaxy, and her sister blows out her powers saving her, saving them all – again – and her father says he’d understand if she shot him, and she hates herself because part of her wants to, wants to, because how dare he tell her that he participated in a genocidal plan for her, for her, for her.
Isn’t Eliza already blaming her for enough? For how didn’t you see this, Alexandra, I thought you were supposed to be trained for this sort of thing and how could you have gone in there alone, Alexandra, I know you’re powerful, but you’re not your sister, dear, you need to accept that you have limitations, for she wouldn’t have had to blow out her powers saving all of you if you had thought this through more rationally, Alexandra.
She kicks at the couch and she heads downstairs.
Heads downstairs, because Maggie had helped her get rid of all the alcohol in her apartment – and god, it had been a lot – but Maggie can’t close the liquor shops around her apartment.
Heads downstairs, because the liquor store is closer than the closest meeting.
And Maggie’s at work.
And Alex is a grown woman.
A grown woman whose father abandoned her, whose father participated in a genocidal forced deportation plan in her name, whose father was everything and whose father was nothing, nothing, nothing, like the man she’s spent all these years agonizing over. Wanting to be like.
Alex is a grown woman, and doesn’t she fight hard enough, and doesn’t she deserve just one, just one, because without anything, she can’t. Without anything, there’s no dulling her heightened senses and there’s no dulling her hellish agony.
Just one.
She pays in cash and she’s more than halfway through the damn bottle before Maggie’s tentative knock on her door. She chuckles wryly to herself, because she always knew she’d be a disappointment to Maggie.
Always knew she’d fail her.
She staggered to the door, a masochistic grin on her face, because let’s see how far ride or die really goes.
Maggie takes one look at her and Maggie doesn’t blink and Maggie doesn’t yell and Maggie doesn’t even let her face fall.
“Alex,” is all she whispers, and she stares at her like she’s never loved anyone more.
Alex doesn’t realize that her lip is trembling, doesn’t realize that her body is shaking, until she’s collapsed into Maggie’s arms, until she’s racking with sobs and almost toppling them both over, but Maggie’s stance is stronger than Alex’s worst self-hate, and Maggie calls her sweetie when she gasps out how sorry she is, and Maggie tells her she’s wrong when she moans out what a failure she is, and Maggie tells her she’s so brave when she sobs out how she’s ruined all of her progress, ruined them, ruined herself, ruined everything.
Failed everything.
Everyone.
Again.
“Alex, you’re allowed. You’re allowed to relapse, and you’re allowed to still love yourself. Is tonight ideal, babe? No. Did you mess up? Yeah. But you know what, sweetie? You’re doing something so brave, so hard, so terrifying, and you’re doing so good. You’re allowed to be human and you’re allowed to make mistakes. Because you know what, Danvers? You can slip up and still be worthy of love. You can slip up and still be perfect. You can slip up and still make it better. I promise you. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not. I promise.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Alex. Understand me? Ride or die includes relapses. It’s part of the deal, babe.”
“But I failed you.”
“No. You didn’t hurt me, Alex. You’re not being abusive to anyone but yourself, babe, and we can work with that. Okay? I’m not going anywhere, Alex. Unless you want me to.”
Alex grabs at the back of her shirt and pulls her closer, closer, closer.
“Please stay.”
“Of course, Alex. Of course I will.”