409. Chapter 409

Her stomach is in knots.

Her stomach is in knots, and not just from her flight out the window.

Not just from her terror, from the screams resonating through her head, even though the bar is quiet.

Her stomach is in knots, because the phone line disconnected, and Maggie, Maggie.

Maggie.

Maggie loves her.

And they only just started this thing.

She can’t imagine what her sister’s going through.

She and Lena haven’t even started their thing at all.

She can’t let Kara be afraid she’s losing Clark, too.

“Maybe Superman’s out there right now, fighting on the streets.”

“If he is, I didn’t see him.”

It’s the only voice she’s ever wanted, the only voice she’s ever needed.

The only voice that’s ever coursed through her veins and woven into her skin and stitched up her heart.

“Maggie,” she breathes, and she runs.

Runs, and Maggie walks, and Maggie holds her hands up, holds her hands open, her face a map of pain, her face a map of ragged relief, her face a map of I love you, I love you, come here, let me hold you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Alex doesn’t wait – she can’t. She takes Maggie’s face between her hands and she kisses her, tasting ash and tasting metal and tasting war on love’s lips.

Maggie holds her by her elbows – Maggie always holds her by her elbows – and Alex fights not to swoon, fights not to break, because if this woman’s lips keep kissing hers, she’ll never be able to fight, to kill, to die.

Though not dying would be good.

Her hands run over Maggie’s body and her eyes follow suit, checking for injuries, checking for breaks, checking for scars that will only grow on the inside.

She’s not armed, save for a gun that Alex can tell is out of bullets.

She must have run out of ammo.

She must have fought hand-to-hand to get here, at least some of the way.

She must have lived hell.

She must still be in hell, except Alex’s hands are on hers.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she exhales for the first time since the attack, because she knows that they’ll talk later, knows that Maggie will cry later, knows that they’ll both break later.

Because there has to be a later, dammit. There has to be.

“I’m so glad that when things look their worst, we both thought to run straight to a bar,” Maggie deflects, and no one else could get Alex to smile while the world is ending.

No one but this woman. God, god, this woman.

This woman who insists on heading back out with James – with Guardian – after keeping a close ear across the bar on Lilian’s conversation with Alex, while running over strategy with James, with Winn.

Running over who they saw die on the way over here.

Running over which streets are likely to have the most children huddled in the rubble; running over which streets are likely to need them the most.

She keeps half an ear with Alex’s conversation, and the other half with a Pulitzer Prize-winning superhero and his genius IT support.

And she insists on leaving again. Without armor.

Without even her kevlar.

Alex didn’t have any weapons in that damn tank.

Alex held on.

And dammit, so will she.

Because there are other people who can’t.

And she’ll go save them. She has to.

And Alex knows.

Alex knows, just like Maggie had known there was no stopping Alex from storming the DEO by herself.

Alex knows, but god, does she hate it.

“Maggie – “

“Don’t argue, Danvers,” she interrupts, but it’s soft, and it’s intimate, and it’s resigned, and it’s loving, and it makes James look down at his shuffling feet and swallow bile.

“I’m not arguing, Maggie, I know you have to… I know, I just… we need that lifetime of firsts, you understand me? Take this – “ She slips her a radio to replace her fritzing phone. “And don’t you dare do anything but come back here in one piece. Gertrude’s going to need both her moms, alright? Both of us.”

“I’ll get her back safe, Alex,” James tells her, but they all know that there can be no promises.

“Please, Olsen, I’ll get you back safe,” Maggie jests, but there’s no laughter in her eyes.

“I love you, Alex Danvers,” she whispers, and she rises onto her tip toes to kiss her like she’ll never kiss her again. She kisses her with her entire body, with her entire mouth, with her entire being.

And Alex kisses her back.

Kisses her like she should have kissed her the night she told her not to wait up for her.

Because god, they never could tell when their worlds would end, could they?

“I love you, Maggie Sawyer,” she breathes, and it’s a promise.

Because I love you?

I love you is a beginning, and this, she promises, will be theirs.