697. Chapter 697

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

At least, that’s what she tells Maggie.

And to a certain extent, she doesn’t have to. Maggie can easily put two and two together.

She is a detective, after all.

But it doesn’t take her detective skills to know that Alex is broken.

Because it’s blasted all over the news – like it was last time – how Supergirl went rogue, and there are debates all over the internet over whether she can be blamed for her actions or not, and should she be made to pay for the damage she did to the city’s bridge before that red-headed woman finally shot her with some special laser and carried her into a mysterious van in her own arms?

The only thing Maggie doesn’t know is what, exactly, Kara said to her, did to her.

But she can imagine.

She waits.

She waits because she has to, because Kara is the priority, because Alex will not leave her side while she’s still unconscious, while she’s still regenerating her cells, her spirit.

So Maggie waits.

She makes herself useful, helping Winn fill in gaps in his intel about the latest Cadmus attack, helping Vasquez reorganize one of the weapons lockers.

J’onn watches her, arms folded across his chest.

Another daughter to worry about. To love.

Winn keeps touching her shoulder supportively, but Maggie shakes her head.

“Must affect you worse than it does me,” she offers him, and he gulps because he has been checking in with the infirmary every three or four minutes.

“Is it selfish that I’m happy I didn’t interact directly with her this time?” he asks with a broken voice, and they hold each other for a long moment.

“The Danvers girls are tough,” Vasquez reminds her later, and she nods because she knows, but she’s worried that Vasquez sees her lip tremble.

She does, but she lets Maggie have her privacy.

They all look up in unison, hours and hours later, when Kara emerges from the infirmary with Alex’s arm around her shoulder.

She makes her way straight to Maggie, and she throws her arms around her without words, without preamble and without explanation.

It confirms Maggie’s fears: that the crux of what she’d said to Alex while under Red K was about… her.

Alex’s eyes are wet over Kara’s shoulder, and Maggie tries to steel herself, because it’s going to be a long, long night.

A long, long next few weeks. Months.

Because this one is going to take some time.

Kara takes her hand when she finally lets her breathe, and offers her other to Alex, who takes it as they head home.

Maggie yearns to be the one holding Alex’s hand, but she knows that will have to come later.

She leaves them off at their apartment, alone together, because the sisters need their alone time.

She goes back to waiting.

Waiting for Alex.

Waiting to be able to give her what she needs.

Which turns out to be less bourbon and more sex with absolute abandon; less talking and more sobbing into her chest.

The talking will come eventually – and so, probably, will the bourbon – but for now, she keeps her arms tight around her girlfriend.

And she knows, with absolute certainly, that she will never, ever, let go.