437. Chapter 437

There was a time when she would stiffen and grab her gun and body slam anyone who came up behind her and touched her like that.

But Maggie has asked – “May I?”, she’ll always say, always softly, never expectantly – so many times that Alex has just told her, please, please, please, I love when you hold me like this, you don’t have to ask.

So there was a time when she could have literally killed someone for doing just what Maggie does.

But now? Now, Alex sinks back into her touch, her warmth, her comfort, her love, her support, immediately. She revels in the feeling of Maggie’s chin on her shoulder, Maggie’s body solid and strong behind hers.

“She’ll be okay,” Maggie tells her, and Alex tries to believe her.

“I hope so,” her voice trembles slightly, because a week ago, Kara almost lost her.

Yesterday, Kara almost lost Lena. Today, Kara lost a piece of her past. Today, Kara watched her city exploding around her, and Alex knows – because Alex feels it too – that Kara is blaming herself.

She feels Maggie staring at her, and she thinks about her promise to Kara.

To never let Maggie go.

The tears in Kara’s eyes, the lilt in her voice.

How far she’d come with Maggie, how much she tried.

How much Alex’s almost dying – almost, almost, almost, she reminds herself – had brought her sister and her girlfriend together.

But she doesn’t want Maggie to just be her girlfriend.

Not anymore.

“Hey,” Maggie is saying, pulling back slightly and taking Alex’s hands into hers. “I know the Danvers girls, you don’t break easy – “

Her voice is soft and it’s smooth and it’s the most soothing thing Alex has ever heard, and Alex has always been impulsive, but Kara had basically given her blessing, and she needs her, god, she needs her, because what if she lands in the hospital during the next war – and there will always be a next war – and Alex can’t get to her without being her wife, her wife, god, Maggie Sawyer’s wife.

It’s never appealed to her before. She’s never understood it.

But this woman, this woman with the calloused heart and soft hands, with the tender soul and sharp wit? This woman, comforting Alex about the Danvers girls, her Danvers girls –

“Marry me.”

Her eyes search Maggie’s face and she watches as the slight smile, the affirmation, on Maggie’s face melts into terror. Melts into incomprehension. Melts into disbelief.

Because she’s always been worthless, and she’s always been disposable.

And when she hasn’t been, she hasn’t trusted it. She’s blown it up in her own face. Like she deserves.

But Alex Danvers? Alex Danvers, with the wide eyes and the desperate voice?

Alex Danvers who has almost died more times than Maggie can count in the last few weeks alone, Alex Danvers who has held on for her and is holding on to her hands and is saying… What the hell is she saying?

“Excuse me?”

And Alex nods before she speaks, like she understands Maggie’s disbelief, like she understands Maggie’s shock. Like she’s feeling it too, but god, god, god, Alex took her by the forearm and pulled her into their first kiss in the bar, and she’s doing it again, now, because we should marry the girls we want to marry, and she wants to…

“Seriously? Marry me. Please?”

She breathes the last word and Maggie doesn’t know when Alex’s hands went to her shoulders, and she doesn’t know when her heart started flying out of her chest and her ears started buzzing, but she knows her mouth is smiling, her eyes are smiling, because god, god, god, she loves this woman.

She loves this woman, loves her like she’s never loved anything, and she’s never been wanted like this, wanted like…

Wanted like Alex nearly died, and Alex nearly blew up her own sister, and Alex nearly cost planet Earth its existence, and Alex nearly lost everything.

“Yes,” Maggie whispers in tandem with her eyes.

“Yeah?” Alex breathes, and Maggie nods, but then she shakes her head, because yes, yes, yes, but also no, no, no.

“Yes, one day, Alex. One day, I want to marry you.” She stops smiling and she steps back, and she hates herself – hates herself like she hated herself the night Alex first kissed her – and she shifts Alex’s hands from her shoulders to her own hands.

“One day,” Alex repeats like she was just punched in the gut, and Maggie brings Alex’s limp knuckles to her lips.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yes. But Alex, I don’t… I don’t even know what marriage means to you. What it would change for you. For us. We don’t live together yet, not really, and finances, and our dog – when do you want to get a dog? – I just… I want a lifetime of firsts with you, Alex, and I want marriage to be in there. Once, to be clear. Just once. To you. But not… Alex, you almost died, and then the Daxamites, and then – “

“What, you think I haven’t thought this through?” Her eyes are wide and her eyes are pain, and Maggie steps back closer to her and thanks the goddesses when Alex doesn’t shrink away from her touch.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about it, Alex. With all that’s been happening… hell, even before that. But we haven’t figured out… what does it mean to you? To get married?”

“Till death do us part and all that. Seems pretty relevant nowadays, huh?” Her eyes are wet and so is her voice, and Maggie gives a dry chuckle.

“But that’s exactly my point, Alex. I don’t want you to… I’m ride or die for you, Danvers, you know I am, but we don’t have to rush, we don’t have to – “

“But what’s the difference? Between you saying you want a lifetime of firsts with me and me saying I want to marry you?”

“Babe, getting married… that lifetime of firsts suddenly includes a lot of joint housing and financial decisions, and a lot of… it’s forever, Alex. And I want forever with you. But it’s miles from where we are: we just started this thing, you and me. And I want to treasure every bit of it. I want to treasure the conversations we have to have about dogs, and kids, or no kids, and careers and apartments and bank accounts and life goals and compatibilities and where we want to be in five years, ten, forty. I want to treasure the conversations we have to have about my parents and your extended family and planning mutual proposals with Adrian. I want to treasure talking about what kind of rings we want and designing wedding dresses or suits with Winn – do you want to get married in a dress? – and I want to treasure figuring out retirement funds and taxes and last name changes and illness and health care and all of it. I want to treasure all of it, Alex. I don’t want to do it while we’re mourning and grieving and recovering.”

“But we’ll always be mourning and grieving and recovering.” Alex’s voice is small, and it breaks Maggie’s heart in as many ways as a heart can possibly be broken. And more.

She pulls her down for a soft kiss, and Alex parts her lips, kissing her back eagerly.

“Yeah. But not like we are today, babe,” Maggie tells her when they press their foreheads together, and Alex nods.

Nods because the taste of water still burns in her lungs and the taste of Daxamite ash still chars her nose.

“So you’re not saying yes, but you’re not saying no.”

“I’m saying, not right now. But ask me again sometime,” Maggie smiles, and lets Alex draw her close into her body somewhat warmly, somewhat possessively.

“You love me?” Alex asks, because the logical part of her brain hears Maggie, understands her. Agrees with her, even. But every single other part of her is trembling with fear.

That she’s said too much, that she’s offered too much, that she’s demanded too much.

That Maggie will leave because she’s failed. Again.

“I love you through and beyond, Alex Danvers,” Maggie whispers against her lips, and that?

That is good enough for Alex.