560. Chapter 560

She tells her about Eliza -- about her father -- in a fit of terror.

Terror that Alex will be angry, that Alex will laugh.

That Alex -- who thinks she will never be good enough for her mother, who is constantly trying to fill the shoes of a father who may well have spent the last decade being tortured, whose sister is Supergirl, for crying out loud -- will think she should just get over it.

She was fourteen years old; it was years ago, so many, many years ago; she’s successful, now, she’s where she wants to be, now; she’s out and she’s proud and she’s (relatively) safe and she has a girlfriend, now.

Her father doesn’t control her life, now, and she doesn’t have classmates that spit on her first leather jacket and refuse to change in front of her in the locker room before gym class.

Terror that Alex will wonder why she’s freaking out, why she can’t just shut up and stop whining and accept a goddamn lap dance from this beautiful woman on Valentine’s Day.

She tells her about Eliza -- about her father -- in a fit of terror, and she promptly tries to leave.

“I gotta go,” she tosses up her hands, but then she... doesn’t.

Because Alex’s hands are soft on hers, and her grip is gentle -- unbelievably gentle, from a woman who has killed with these fingers alone as weapons -- as she implores Maggie to stay.

As she whispers that she is so sorry, that she didn’t know. That Maggie deserved to be heard. That she will do better. That she lo... that she’s here. That she’s not going anywhere. That Maggie doesn’t have to go anywhere, unless she wants to.

Every instinct in Maggie’s body tells her to run. Because Alex will change her mind.

Everyone always does.

But Alex dissolves Maggie’s instincts -- born of cuts that are too deep to ever fully heal, forged in fires that will never really stop burning -- with soft eyes and even softer touches.

Maggie stays.

Their first Valentine’s Day is full of tears and Maggie’s snot on Alex’s shirt, and Alex utterly not minding. Alex ordering pizza and tipping Jessy more than double what the pie costed, telling him to take his boyfriend out somewhere nice when he gets off shift. Alex calling Adrian so Maggie can talk to her surrogate little brother while Alex sets the table -- well, the couch, more like, because tonight is a couch night -- and Alex pulling Maggie extra close as they watch SVU reruns without actually watching them.

Until Maggie feels well enough -- stable enough, safe enough, good enough, liked enough, and maybe even loved enough -- to start her usual barrage of correcting inaccurate information as the show goes on.

Their first Valentine’s Day is quiet, and it’s gentle, and it is so utterly home.

But by their second, their third, their fourth, Valentine’s Day is... yes, still corporate nonsense; yes, still a time for Maggie to be extra thoughtful, to type her father’s phone number into her cell and stare at it for an extra long time before ending the call before it even begins.

But it’s also become joyous.

Because Alex is a sharp strategist and a ruthless soldier.

And she is also a helpless, mushy, puddle-on-the-floor, dozens-of-red-roses-lap-dances-and-bottles-of-champagne-and-sex-on-the-beach-at-sunrise romantic.

So on a Valentine’s Day that is far from their first, Maggie strolls into the DEO -- she’s long-since secured her all-access pass -- and has a murmured conversation with Vasquez about Alex’s whereabouts.

Hands shoved deep into their pockets, Vasquez guides Maggie to the DEO locker room, trying to fly casual as they show her which locker is Alex’s -- they renovated recently and things got shifted around -- and they keep a lookout to make sure Alex doesn’t walk in on them.

“Couldn’t you just look for her tracker in the building?” Maggie murmurs with a soft grin as Vasquez tugs Winn into the locker room with them.

“I could, but good old fashioned senses are more fun,” Vasquez grins as Winn immediately catches on to what they’re doing. As he sees the card in Maggie’s trembling hand.

He and Vasquez fall silent as they watch Maggie slip the card -- red envelope, Alex name written in painstaking cursive on the front -- through the grate on Alex’s locker.

A single tear slips down her cheek. Winn and Vasquez pretend not to see.

“You’re a good egg, Sawyer,” Winn murmurs to her, hand gently on her shoulder. She doesn’t threaten to lock him up this time. She just smiles faintly and leans into him gratefully.

She’s grateful, too, for the work he puts into the dress he crafts for Alex. Gorgeous and red and backless and lacy and just... beautiful.

So beautiful.

Maggie’s stomach is in knots back at the precinct, especially when Winn and Vasquez both text her to say that Alex is back from her mission and has gone down to the locker room.

The next time her phone buzzes, it’s Alex. Calling, not texting.

“Hey pretty lady,” Alex greets when Maggie somehow manages to croak a greeting. “I just got the most beautiful Valentine’s card in my locker from the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“You’re writing yourself cards now, Danvers?” Maggie manages, and she revels in Alex’s laughter over the line.

“From you, babe. I um... I wanted to know... is it okay with you if I show it to Kara and J’onn? My family, you know, I um... I want to show them how much my wife loves me.”

It takes a long time for Maggie to find her voice; a long time for her to swallow the overflow of cathartic, grateful, loving tears.

Alex waits. Because they have all the time in the world.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can. And uh... is that a yes, then? To come to Winn’s DEO dance with me?”

“With all my heart.”