506. Chapter 506

There’s nothing wrong.

Which is exactly what’s wrong.

There’s nothing wrong but her body isn’t working with her.

Her body’s on vacation – but an unpleasant one – and it didn’t give proper notice to her mind.

Her body isn’t working with her and she feels like her heart physically weighs a ton, like none of the workouts or therapy she’s ever done was worth anything, because if it were, how, how, how the hell could she possibly feel like this?

Like she has iron in her chest, like she’s buried underneath a ton of bricks, like gravity is stronger – so much damn stronger – than she will ever be.

Her taking care of her body, her taking care of her mind – or trying to, anyway – all has amounted to nothing.

It must.

Because otherwise, why would she feel like… this?

She has no reason to.

The redhead waking up next to her is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. Her job is rough, but that’s why she took it, and she wouldn’t trade it. Adrian’s health, he’s happy. She and Alex are talking about getting a dog. Alex’s family is starting to take her in as their own.

Nothing’s wrong.

Except Alex will probably leave her.

Except she might get shot on the job. She might be terrible at her job.

Adrian might be angry with her. Or, her might just drift away, like people do over distances.

Whatever dog she and Alex get will always be tainted by memories of that tank.

If she and Alex ever break up, she’ll lose the entire family. She’s already lost one. Is it really worth building another, just to have it torn down again?

So nothing’s wrong, so everything’s wrong, and Maggie doesn’t remember how to move.

“Morning, babe,” Alex rolls over and smiles, and Maggie’s heart sinks.

Because it’s not that bad, when she’s alone.

She’s tough. She can handle it, kind of.

But when this woman, this gorgeous woman, is smiling at her, expecting her to smile back, expecting her to act like a normal human being?

No, no no no no no. This is why she’s terrible at relationships.

This is why she might as well not have them.

She grunts something that she supposes might pass as good morning, and Alex furrows her brow, but only for a moment.

“Bad dream?” she asks, raising a sleepy hand to stroke Maggie’s hair. “Is this okay?” she asks when Maggie doesn’t respond. She nods softly, so subtly Alex wouldn’t have seen it if she wasn’t looking for it.

And Alex doesn’t hate her. Instead, Alex smiles at her.

“Mornings suck,” she says, more of a statement than a question, and Maggie’s heart nearly breaks from relief. Alex lets a mischievous look flit over her eyes. “Well. Not that all forms of sucking are bad,” she grins, and Maggie can’t smile, not right now, but her heart lightens a little at her nerd girlfriend.

And Alex?

Miraculously, Alex doesn’t expect a smile. She just continues stroking Maggie’s hair, her cheek, and she shuffles forward to kiss her nose.

“You stay right here, princess. I’m gonna get you donuts for breakfast. Okay?”

Maggie doesn’t tell her she couldn’t move if she tried. Alex already knows.

She kisses her once more before crawling out of bed, and she’s back before Maggie’s mustered the strength to roll over.

Alex helps her sit, and she never asks what’s wrong.

She helps her eat, and she never looks impatient.

She picks an outfit for her, and she never tells her she’s a grown woman, and she should be able to pick her own damn clothes.

She runs the shower for her, and she doesn’t act like it’s a burden to step in with her and make sure she’s all clean.

She drives her to work – in Maggie’s car, not on the bike – and the only thing she says to acknowledge how Maggie’s feeling is a soft plea to take the day to do paperwork, because the field is always so much more dangerous when we feel like this.

She says ‘we.’ Not ‘you.’

Because Alex has been here, too.

She texts her throughout the day, and she doesn’t expect responses.

She takes her bike over to the precinct to bring her lunch, and by then, Maggie can smile, at least a little bit.

By then, Maggie can chuckle, at least a little bit, when Alex gets ketchup on her shirt.

She drives her home at the end of the day and she doesn’t ask her to make dinner, because some nights, that’s impossible.

She takes off her boots for her and she tells her stories about her own day, because some nights, silence is unbearable.

She cuddles Maggie close and she cuddles Maggie tender, because some nights, that’s survival.

It’s happened before and it will happen again, but as she’s falling asleep in Alex’s strong, loving arms, Maggie smiles softly to herself; because she’s never been loved like this, and this?

Depression or not, this is absolutely perfect.