309. Chapter 309

“I wanted to,” she’d told her when Alex said she wasn’t going to tell her about cheating on Emily, and god, god, she’d meant it.

Alex, I was with this woman for five years, and she told me she wanted to think about getting married, she told me she wanted to take the next step, and I… I panicked, and I did some fucked up things, and I just… But it was a long time ago, Alex, and I would never do that to you, to myself, again.

Alex, I cheated in the longest term relationship I’ve ever had. Please, please, please, god, please don’t leave me because of it. Please. I told you I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it, but now I just can’t. So please Alex. Please don’t leave. I’m sorry.

Alex, if I tell you that I have more scar tissue than skin, will you still think we’re perfect? Will you still want to be that couple with me? How could you? How could you if you knew that all my exes have been right, that I’ve never deserved happiness, that I can’t ever deserve it because I… because I destroy everything I touch, and every single day, I’m terrified of destroying you?

Alex, I don’t know how to let myself be loved. Teach me?

She’d wanted to. God, she’d wanted to.

But she only had words for other people’s pain, other people’s pasts, other people’s agonies.

Never for her own.

Because if she gave that to someone, of course they’d leave. Of course they’d send her away.

And why wouldn’t they?

She was just damaged goods.

Nothing more.

“You don’t like to talk about you,” Alex had said, and she’d countered with an immediate “I know,” with an immediate this is why everyone leaves, this is the kind of thing everyone says before they leave, god Alex please, please don’t leave.

Because you’re a rock, Maggie, and you never let me in, do you not love me?

And how can I possibly love something so hard, Mags, jesus, how could anyone?

And you go around like such a badass, but really you’re just broken inside. And I don’t think you can ever be fixed.

So when Alex’s tells her she doesn’t like to talk about her, she knows what’s coming, and she can’t tell if she needs a Xanax or a scotch, or hell, both.

But those aren’t the words coming out of Alex’s mouth. No.

Not Alex.

Because Alex is saying that she totally gets that, and Alex is saying her name, and it’s soft and it’s sweet and it’s pleading and it’s something like loving, and it’s certainly not the way you say someone’s name before you abandon them.

“You don’t think I’m a bad person?” she asks, and she leans into Alex’s hand, because it’s warm and it’s gentle and she might break if it gets pulled away.

She asks because the answer – from everyone else – has always, unequivocally, been yes.

The answer, from everyone else in her life, has been that she’s bad, that she’s broken, that she’s damaged, that she’s not worth it.

But Alex is talking about healing like it’s something to be done with love, something to be done together. She’s talking about healing like it’s something that means that Maggie is worth it to her. That Maggie might not be useless, worthless, terrible, after all.

“No,” is Alex’s immediate answer, and she starts talking nerdy and she opens her arms, and Maggie scoots into them like Alex is oxygen and she’s drowning.

Because she has been, for nearly two decades, and Alex is her first breath above water.

“Thank you,” she says, because she doesn’t know what else to say, because there is nothing else to say, nothing but I will never hurt you like that, nothing but I don’t deserve you, nothing but I love you, I love you, I love you.

Alex pulls back and goes to stroke her hair and it’s everything she needs, but then the bottom drops out of her stomach, because Alex’s phone is vibrating, is ringing, and Alex is standing, and Maggie won’t speak, won’t ask if there’s anyone else who can help Kara, won’t ask if there’s anyone else who can save her, anyone else who can keep her from breaking, because she needs help, she needs saving, she needs to keep from breaking, too.

But she won’t speak, she won’t ask, because she would never do that to Alex. Because Alex is pale and Alex is scared and Alex is choking on words that sound like she wants to say I promise, that sound like she wants to say the same words Maggie wants to, but then Alex is gone and Maggie is alone and she hasn’t been this small, this exposed, this naked, since she showed up at her aunt’s door with the little duffle bag her father had given her five minutes to pack when she was a child.

She finds herself wishing M'gann wasn’t so damn far away, because M'gann had known about not talking.

She finds herself wishing it had been her job that called, not Alex’s, because at least that way, she’d be forced to shove it all back in, to shove it all into her gun and her steely expression and her badge.

She deliberately tries not to think about the irony of telling Alex she doesn’t have to push down her feelings, when that’s all Maggie knows how to do with her own.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, hands in her lap, staring at the door, like a child, conjuring up the image of Alex, forcing into her mind Alex’s soft hands and soft voice and I’m not here to judge you for things that happened in the past, I am here to help you heal.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, still, as though the longer she stays in this position, the more likely it’ll be to preserve Alex’s presence near her.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, but she suddenly knows she can’t stay.

Knows because this is Alex’s home, this is… okay, so she has a baby bonsai tree and recipe books and all kinds of cooking utensils she hadn’t had months ago.

Okay, so she has Maggie’s toothbrush and favorite mouthwash in her bathroom, and okay, she’s slept here more in the past few months than she has at her own place.

But it’s Alex’s home.

Alex’s. Not hers.

Because Alex is sweet and Alex is kind, and that’s exactly the point: Alex is too good for her. She doesn’t know what she’s asking for when she’s asking Maggie to not be so guarded with her.

She doesn’t know what a massive disaster she would unleash.

And she won’t do that to Alex.

She’s standing up and she’s hugging herself and she’s trying not to break – at least not until she gets home, at least not until she’s on her own, as always – when her phone buzzes.

She doesn’t know if she hopes it’s work or if she hopes it’s Alex.

It’s Alex.

Stay there, please, Maggie. My home is yours. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can. Please stay.

She doesn’t know how Alex knew. Doesn’t know why Alex cared.

Doesn’t know where Alex found the time between getting to the DEO and doing god knows what to save her sister.

Doesn’t know why Alex bothered putting in the effort.

It’s not like she was worth it.

Her phone buzzes again.

You’re amazing, Maggie. Please don’t run. Please.

She doesn’t run.

She doesn’t run, because she collapses instead, a heaping mess on Alex’s living room floor, clutching her phone to her chest like it’s Alex herself and shaking her head and fighting, fighting, fighting, because every single awful thing in her life is flashing through her mind, is screaming in her skull, is activating her hands, wanting them to lash out at her own skin, wanting them to give herself what she really deserves.

She rocks herself and she clenches her fists and she pounds them into her thighs because she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

Because Alex cares about her, and she has to be worthy of that, she has to be –

Her phone buzzes again.

Hey Maggie. It’s James. Alex said you’re having a hard night – no details, don’t worry – but since she and Winn are helping out Kara, I wanted to let you know I can come over. If you want. Keep you company. No pressure.

He doesn’t tell her that Alex had begged him to hang back from this mission she he can be on standby for Maggie. He doesn’t tell her because he knows it’ll make her feel babysat, not cared for.

She knows anyway.

And it stills something in her heart, something that, a moment before, had been raging about how she can’t possibly, ever, be truly lovable.

No worries, James. I’m fine. Thank you though.

His response is immediate.

Alex said you’d say that. You don’t have to talk. We can watch crappy movies or set up some shooter games on Alex’s TV.

Shooter games.

Maggie grins and rubs a tensed fist over her eyes.

Bring pizza.

She can’t see James smiling, but she imagines he is.

And, true to his word, he doesn’t ask her to talk. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay and he doesn’t tell her that her eyes are still swollen or that she still has some lint from the floor on her jeans.

He just glances around Alex’s apartment and nods, impressed. “Somehow I always pictured her as living in a cave of some sort.”

“Oh, it basically was before I got here,” Maggie jokes, in a voice that doesn’t sound like her own.

Because her voice sounds like she has friends. Her voice sounds like her girlfriend cares enough about her to send someone to make sure she’s okay. And that someone doesn’t mind at all, because he cares about her, too.

No strings and no sex and no demands in return.

Just the offer of pizza and the question of do you prefer Halo or Call of Duty?

She doesn’t think about how strange it is to sit on the floor she was just breaking on with a straight man she barely knows, letting him yell out at the game through a mouth full of pizza. Normally, she’d yell right with him, but tonight, her throat isn’t working.

And he doesn’t ask. He just nudges her with his shoulder when they pause so she can grab a slice, and he looks down at her and he says, “Alex is really lucky to have you, Maggie.”

She says nothing, because if she says anything, she’ll break. Like she’s not already broken.

If she says anything, gravity will win and word vomit will win and no, no, no.

Not yet, anyway.

When Alex returns, it’s to questions of are you hurt? and in space again? and how’s Kara? and I’ll go be with her right now and thank you, James and anything for the Danvers girls and the people they love, right?

They stare at each other long and hard, Alex with her head slightly tilted, trying to read Maggie’s face, trying to read her body.

“I am so sorry I left, Maggie, I – ”

“Alex, your sister was in danger, I get it – ”

“But so were you. Not… not in the same way, but I… you know I was thinking about it on the way back. She’s only here for a week.”

Maggie stiffens. “Yeah. And.”

“And, babe,” Alex reaches out, pausing before touching her, and Maggie nods, and Alex touches, and Maggie’s body immediately relaxes. “If you’re going to work on being less guarded with me, you’re going to also have to work on being gentler on yourself. And that means forgiving yourself. And sometimes, that means asking someone else’s forgiveness first. Even if you don’t get it, asking can be important. If you do it for the right reasons.”

“I never meant to hurt her,” Maggie’s voice is small, and Alex kisses her forehead.

“I know, babe.”

“Why do you just trust that?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Alex, I – ”

“I know. Me too.”

“What – ”

“I love you, Maggie. I love you more than I’ve ever thought it was possible to love someone who’s not Kara. And I want what’s best for you, always. So let me drive you to the Baldwin. Okay? You deserve closure, and Emily does, too.”

“You…”

“Yes.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Actually, it’s the other way around, but if I work on deserving you, and you work on deserving me, then really, what can go wrong?”

“Nerd.”

“Should I get the car?”

“Yeah. But first, I… I love you, too, Alex. I love you so fucking much.”

Her chest heaves and Alex pulls her close and Maggie rises on her tip toes and kisses her like she’s never kissed her before and like she’ll never kiss her again, hands in her hair and hands up her back and hands on her face and lips parted and tongue in her mouth and Alex swoons and Maggie holds her and Maggie swoons and Alex steadies her and they only part when neither of them can breathe, when neither of them can think, when neither of them can do anything but she loves me, she loves me, she loves me.