491. Chapter 491

She should have kept her mouth shut.

She should have kept her mouth shut and let Alex’s nervous laughter, nervous “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about” be the last word on the subject.

She should have swallowed her frustration that her girlfriend’s sister destroyed the effort she’d put in, the energy she’d spent, the tears she’d fought against shedding, for seventeen hours.

Seventeen hours talking them down, seventeen hours playing the therapist no one had ever played for her, seventeen hours forcing herself to empathize – really, really empathize – with men who had their guns trained at the heads of defenseless people.

But they were at dinner, all together.

So it shouldn’t matter.

Her job wasn’t about ego. It shouldn’t be about ego. She should have let it go. She should have kept her damn mouth shut.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t, so now instead of Rick Malverne waiting futilely in that elevator, instead of Rick Malverne having to go home empty-handed – instead of Rick Malverne getting to kidnap and torture her girlfriend, this woman that she… this woman that she can’t live without – instead of all that, instead of making him wait another night, instead of, maybe, giving them all a chance to realize something was off, to realize that they were being stalked…

Now, Alex had been…

Alex had nearly drowned.

Alex had sliced her own damn arm open with her own damn credit card, and Alex had…

And it was all her fault. It was all her fault, because she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.

She couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and she got into it with Kara, and now?

Now, Alex swears she’s fine, and now, Alex swears she’s almost entirely healed, and now, Alex has told her that she loves her, that she wants to have all those firsts with her, she loves her, she loves her, she loves her…

But she shouldn’t.

She shouldn’t, because if she’d just kept her stupid mouth shut, maybe Alex wouldn’t have had to go through what she went through.

Because Alex swears she’s fine, that it’s in the past, but J’onn knows better.

He’s keeping her on desk duty, and even though Alex rages and swears that desk duty is the worst possible thing for her recovery, Maggie is secretly grateful.

Secretly grateful, if for no other reason than – ironically – desk duty keeps Alex at the DEO later. More paperwork to sift through, and she’s so antsy that she’s slow at it.

Because there’s so much else she wants to be doing.

Like sleeping with Maggie. Both literally sleeping – cuddling and the like – and metaphorically sleeping – fucking and the like.

Alex wants all these things, and she’s making it very clear, but Maggie?

All she can see when she looks at the woman she loves more than she’s every loved anything or anyone is her body, floating, bubbles slipping out of her lips.

All she can see when she looks at Alex is her own screaming guilt.

So she’s grateful that Alex is on desk duty. It’ll force her to let her body heal, and it brings her home later.

It brings her home later, and Maggie can pretend to be asleep on the couch.

Pretend, of course, because there’s no way in hell she will ever sleep again without knowing exactly where Alex is.

Because dammit, that was her fault, too.

How could she have gone to the gym and blown off steam before downing a few shots of scotch and just falling asleep? Without hearing from Alex? Because sure, she was with Kara, but Alex usually checked in. How could she have…

Another thing that was her fault.

Another way that what Rick Malverne did was her fault.

And, maybe, too, if he hadn’t seen Alex with Maggie so much… maybe if he hadn’t seen the way Maggie looks at her, the way Maggie touches her hand when they’re walking down the street… maybe he wouldn’t have had quite so much rage about the whole situation.

Maybe he wouldn’t have tortured Alex quite so much.

So she pretends she’s asleep until she hears Alex come home. Pretends she’s asleep and fights not to sob when she hears Alex kick off her shoes and sigh at the sight of her girlfriend, and pull a blanket over her and adjust her head on the pillow.

She pretends so that she won’t have to ask how her day was. So she won’t have to look across the room, across the table, across the pillow, at this woman – this perfect damn woman – and see her dead, suffering, dying, a thousand ways over.

All her fault.

She pretends and she draws back and she doesn’t want to be distant – god, all she wants to do is feel Alex’s blood rushing through her veins, hear Alex’s heart beat steady and solid under her ear, all she wants to do is crush Alex’s lips with her own and… and… – but she has to be distant. She has to be.

Because she hurt Alex once.

God, god, god, she can’t hurt her again.

And the closer she is, the more she’ll hurt her.

As always.

It’s not until Kara shows up at the precinct, all baby blue collared shirt and beige pants, the next week at lunch time that Maggie realizes that maybe, by pulling away, she’s hurting Alex all the more.

“Detective,” Kara greets, the truce between them real, but the truce between them riddled with fragility and pain.

“Hey Kara,” she looks up from her desk – she’s got her own endless stack of paperwork to combat – and she grins lopsidedly. Cautiously. “Need a source on something?”

She gets up and she gestures Kara into the hallway and follows with increasingly sweaty palms, an increasingly racing heart.

“No, no, I’m not here about a story, I just…” Kara turns to face Maggie, and her jawline alone could kill. She crosses her arms over her chest, and Maggie fights not to do the same.

“You’ve been trying to be really strong for my sister. She tells me you’ve been packing her lunch every day, and I know you’ve been changing the dressings on her shoulder.”

“What are girlfriends for?” Maggie shrugs, eyes flitting across the hallway, still unable to shake the feeling that she’s being watched.

“Well, yes, but as far as I know, they’re also for sleeping together.”

“I – Kara, what – I – “

Kara adjusts her glasses and holds up a hand to stem Maggie’s stammering.

“Alex says you’ve been asleep on the couch before she gets home almost every night. That you’ve been taking care of her, but you’ve stopped really… building anything with her. Like a relationship. Like that whole firsts thing she keeps gushing about.”

Maggie blinks and Kara takes a deep breath.

“Is this because she told you she loves you? Are you pulling away because, what, you said it back but you don’t really mean it? Did you leap before you looked, Maggie, and now you don’t know how to tell her?”

Maggie flinches like she was punched by Supergirl, and Kara blinks at how rattled her stinging words made Maggie, by the tears rushing to her eyes.

Maggie’s nostrils flare slightly and she grabs Kara’s upper arm and pulls her into an interrogation room, shutting the door behind them.

“After all we went through together, Kara, I… I busted that bastard’s dad out of prison so we could keep her safe, I… I love her, Kara. I love your sister more than I love… myself, I…”

“Then why are you – “

“Because I can’t look at her, Kara! I can’t – “ Maggie’s voice squeaks and Kara lowers her arms in sudden compassion. Maggie puts her left hand under her lip as she starts to pace.

“It’s my fault, Kara, don’t you get it? My fault Malverne took her – the only reason she went into that damn elevator alone was because I yelled at you, because she was going to make things right with you, about me! And he saw us together, over and over and over, and you know that fed his fire, and she almost died, Kara. The only woman I’ve ever really been in love with almost died, because of me, because of my stupid – “

“Whoa, whoa, Maggie, hey. No. You know Alex doesn’t feel that way, right?”

“Of course she doesn’t feel that way, Kara, she’s too good! She’s too good for me, don’t you get it? Wait no, of course you get it, of course you do, because that’s what you’ve always thought, isn’t it? That your sister deserves someone better than some lowly, damaged cop?”

It’s Kara’s turn to look like Maggie hit her, and her own tears join Maggie’s in her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is soft, her voice is sad. Her voice is regretful.

“Maggie, I… I am so sorry that the way I’ve treated you made you think those… those terrible things. About yourself. I’m protective of Alex, I’m always going to be protective of her, but I… Maggie, if what happened to her is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. If I’d listened to you in the first place, we would have found her before that damn water even started to – “

“No, Kara, don’t – “

“See, but that’s what I mean. I blame myself, you blame yourself. Hell, Alex probably blames herself.”

Maggie scoffs. “Alex always blames herself.”

Kara smiles, and reaches out a hand to Maggie. She stares at it for a long moment before taking it.

“Exactly. The Danvers girls and the women we love… that’s what we do, isn’t it? Blame ourselves? But Maggie, what happened to Alex was not your fault. It wasn’t. I promise. And it… it’s okay. It’s okay to cry to her, to… to break down. It’s okay to need her. Because she was in that tank, sure, but Maggie, it was hard as hell being outside of it, too. And you would tell me the same thing. So maybe… I don’t know, I don’t really know a lot about this relationship stuff… but I know my sister. And I think I know you, at least a little. Enough. So maybe try… talking to her, instead of shutting her out. She needs you, Maggie. Especially right now. And I think you need her, too.”

There’s a long, long, long pause where brown eyes meet blue and their pulses – both thrumming for Alex Danvers – unite.

“Did you just say the women you and your sister love?”

“Oh god, I – “

“Tell me everything, Kid Danvers. On the way to bring Alex some lunch. Yeah?”

Kara beams as she pulls Maggie into a long, relief-filled hug.

“Yeah.”