125. Chapter 125

She doesn’t care that she already took the morning off; doesn’t care that she came into the precinct glowing and came back from her break just a few hours later with red eyes, clenched fists, and a set jaw.

Doesn’t care, for once, that she’s being an emotionally open book at work.

Doesn’t care, because she’s constantly pulling extra shifts, and they were fine without her this morning; they’ll be fine without her again this evening.

She doesn’t get on her Triumph. She doesn’t get on her Triumph because if she does, she’ll speed, she’ll take corners too sharply, she’ll get into an accident. She’ll crash it because she’s so far gone. She’ll crash it because she’s reckless, because she doesn’t care, because she knew it was a stupid idea, knew Alex wasn’t ready, knew she wouldn’t be able to survive if Alex, Alex, Alex was the next woman to shatter her through to her bones.

She blasts Lauryn Hill in her headphones, and she takes the damn bus, because she’s got just enough self-control left to get home safely. Before she lets go. Before she lets herself lose her cool.

She strips to nothing but boxers and her sports bra; she ties up her hair and she puts her iPod into her speaker, switching it to Nas. She wraps her hands, and she slips into the tiny second bedroom that serves as her break room, serves as her sanity room; serves as her heavy bag room.

She jabs and she crosses and she kicks and she sobs and she hits harder and she slams until her hands sting under her wraps.

She hears her phone vibrate, and she glances at it.

Danvers.

She ignores it. She hits harder, throws combinations that would take down someone two times her size, but can do nothing against her own demons.

More vibrations. More combinations. Sweat drips down her shoulders, down her forearms, starting to shake.

Kara is Supergirl.

She doesn’t care that Alex lied. She gets why Alex lied.

She cares that Alex ran. She cares that Alex put her hands all over her body, tossed her head back and gasped her name like a prayer, cares that Alex kissed her, said she wanted to stay in the apartment together forever, forever, forever, and Maggie knew, she knew, it was just because she was bright and shiny, because Alex’s whole world was shiny right now, it had nothing to do with Maggie, because Alex spent the night with her soft, solid limbs wrapped around Maggie’s body, because Alex couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing her, of touching her, of figuring out how to make Maggie gasp, tremble, in her arms, all these things, and she cares that after all that, all that, Alex called it all a mistake.

Maggie is a mistake.

Of course.

But her phone buzzes in the pattern of a voicemail, and her curiosity, her small, tiny sliver of hope tugs the wraps off her hands, backhands the sweat off her forehead, and presses play on her messages.

Maggie, hi. It’s me. Uh, Alex. Listen, I… I screwed up. I – can you just, come over? Please? I get it if you don’t want to, I get it it I messed everything up, but I just… Come over. Please. Okay, um. Bye.

Maggie sighs and Maggie tosses the phone back onto a chair, and Maggie slams her bare fists once, twice, three times, into the heavy bag.

The longer she lets this drag on – the longer she lets Alex use her as a yo-yo, use her as a discovery, use her as an adventure before she moves on to whoever’s better, whoever deserves her more, whoever’s less damaged goods than Maggie – the more it’s going to hurt.

But wearing Alex’s t-shirt had felt like no kind of peace she’d felt before, and Alex’s enthusiasm terrified her, but it also… what if it was about her? What if she really did like Maggie as much as she rambled about?

Supergirl is her sister, and life is too short, and it can’t get any more painful than this anyway, can it, and Alex Danvers might just be worth the risk. Right?

Be there in an hour.

She showers and she arms herself with flannel and she arms herself with caution, but what lets her pick up her Triumph and knock on the door of this woman she’s too quickly falling in love with is a little spark.

A little spark, rapidly becoming a full-out flame, of hope.