387. Chapter 387

She loves Eliza.

She always has.

She’s loved her since she took her face into her hands and first called her sweetie.

Loved her since she introduced her in public as her daughter, but made sure Kara knew that she would never, ever, ever pretend to be replacing her mother, because her mother would always be special, always be cherished, always be alive in Kara’s memories, in Kara’s heart.

She loves Eliza, and she thinks, now, that her love for her – her need for her, for an older woman’s arms to wrap around her tiny body when she had a nightmare [and Rao, she had so many of them], to tell her it was going to be alright, that there is no shame in surviving – might have made her miss certain things.

Certain things about how Eliza treats her older daughter.

Certain things about how Eliza holds Alex to superhuman expectations.

Superhuman expectations that have made Alex drink. That have made Alex suppress herself. That have made Alex isolated and self-destructively reckless and, until Maggie, almost completely unable to assert what she needs, what she wants, beyond when she needs Kara to be safe, beyond when she wants to protect Kara.

And of course she wants to protect Kara, because Eliza has made her believe that she, as a person, is worthless without doing so.

Without being perfect.

So Kara keeps her eyes, her ears, extra open the next time Eliza comes for dinner.

She tries to keep a lid on the shame burning inside her that it took her so long to realize, took her so long to realize that Alex’s extreme anxiety, extra drinking, around Eliza was actually a response to emotional abuse wrapped in love, not an overreacting paranoia that was kind of cute but not that serious.

She tries to keep a lid on her own shame, because she’s been talking with Maggie about it – drinking with Maggie about it – and Maggie is nothing if not straight-up with her.

“Should you have realized when you got older, Little Danvers? Sure. But when you were a kid? Kara, your entire planet had just died, you had no one. You had to restrain yourself in ways I can’t even begin to imagine, and it… of course you just wanted someone to care for you like Eliza did. And you know what the point of beating yourself up for not realizing it sooner is? There is none. Absolutely none. Point is, you’re realizing now, and you can validate Alex now, and that’s what you’ve gotta focus on, okay?”

So she tries to keep a lid on her own shame, so she can be at her best when Eliza comes over next.

She brings pie and Kara groans in ecstasy, and she brings tiramasu and Maggie thanks her profusely, but both little sister and girlfriend exchange tense glances behind Eliza’s back when Alex’s face falls, because Eliza hasn’t brought anything for her.

“You’re always going through so many different food phases, Alex – almost obsessively healthy some weeks, carelessly unhealthy other weeks – I can’t keep track of all that, dear.”

Alex grimaces and Kara steps forward. “Next time just ask me, Eliza: I always know what Alex is eating these days, so if you want to surprise her, I can help!”

“You’re so thoughtful, Kara dear,” Eliza praises, and Maggie squeezes Alex’s hand as Alex rolls her eyes and bites her lip.

Kara flushes.

That didn’t work.

She’ll have to try harder.

Eliza gives her the opportunity again when they’re sitting down to dinner, and Eliza wants to know why Alex could have not recognized Rick Malverne until it was too late, how she could have let herself get her sister put into such an impossibly position, and of course she did a wonderful job keeping herself alive until Kara and Maggie could rescue her, but really, Alexandra, how could she have let it come to that in the first place?

Alex guzzles root beer like it’s whiskey and Maggie is about to speak, her hand on Alex’s thigh, but Kara beats her to it.

“Eliza, Alex has been through hell and back, and I love you, Eliza, you know I do, but you don’t get to speak to my sister that way. She did things that you can’t even imagine to keep herself alive, to keep me safe. She would have died for me, protecting me, and she almost did. And if there’s anyone to blame for all this, anyone whose fault this whole Rick Malverne thing is? Other than him? It’s mine.”

“Kara, don’t – “

“No, Alex, it’s true.. It’s true and it doesn’t matter how many times you tell me it’s not my fault: Eliza clearly wants to assign blame, and I understand that. I do, too. And it’s Rick’s fault. But it’s also mine. Mine, because I was the one who didn’t listen to Alex – Alex, who you unfairly put in the position of caring for a devastated child when she was just a child herself – and ran to the scene of that car crash. I exposed myself to Rick, and I was the one he was using Alex to try to manipulate. Alex is a hero, Eliza, and I know you love her, I do, I know, but you need to start talking to her like you do. Or you can leave my home until you’re ready to give Alex the respect she deserves.”

Her voice trembles and she adjusts her glasses with trembling fingers, and Alex is crying and Eliza’s eyes are wide and Maggie is holding Kara’s shaking hand under the table, biting her lip because Kara is nearly breaking her fingers, but she doesn’t mind because god, Alex’s kid sister really is a hero, isn’t she?

“Kara, I’m sorry I – “

“It’s not me you have to apologize to, Eliza,” Kara interrupts, her voice soft and her voice coated with love. For Eliza, but mostly, mostly, for her sister.

Her sister, who she would die for without a second thought.

Her sister, who would die for her without a second thought.

Her sister, who she lives for, every day.

Her sister, who lives for her, every day.

Her sister, who Eliza spent years emotionally abusing in Kara’s name.

And Kara won’t have it anymore.

“Alexan – Alex – I – Kara’s right. Your sister – you’re sister’s right. I’ve never been fair to you, Alex, and I’ve never… I told you last year to take care of yourself, and I told you I’m not disappointed in you for being gay, but Alex, beyond that, I haven’t… I’ve quite failed you, haven’t I?” She voice quakes and she closes her eyes, counting to ten, a habit she’s acquired when interacting with her oldest daughter over the years.

“I love you, Alex. And I know I haven’t been nearly good enough at expressing it. But I’m going to do better. And when I fail – and I will fail again, I’m sure – I want you to tell me. And I want Kara to tell me. And you, Maggie, sweetie. And Alex, I… I am so proud of you. Of the hero you’ve become. The hero you’ve always been.”

“It took Kara telling you to get you to say all that,” Alex whispers, and Eliza nods sadly.

“Yes. And that isn’t right. I know. But let me try, Alex? Let your mother try?”

Alex grips Maggie’s hand, swiping comforting circles onto her thigh, and Alex leans into Kara’s strong arms.

“I’ll think about it, Mom. I’ll think about it. Okay?”

Eliza nods, a small, hopeful smile on her face. “That’s all I can ask for, I suppose, isn’t it?”

Alex nods as her lips tremble, and she breathes in her little sister’s scent, focuses on her girlfriend’s touch.

She’s going to be alright. Because these women think she’s perfect, including all her imperfections, even if her mother is still learning that.