Work Text:
Sara is…
Unexpected.
Really unexpected.
When Kara had first told her about meeting Team Legends, including its leader – “White Canary” she had whispered with awe – Alex hadn’t pictured anything. How could one possibly attempt to put a face to characters, which sounded more at home on the colourful pages of an 80s comic than in reality?
Besides, she had been going through something at the time.
With her sexy dimples and gorgous eyes, Maggie had slipped – no, not slipped: blasted through Alex’ defences. She had brought her reality crumbling down and led her to question one of the most fundamental aspects of herself. The constant confusion, the emotional upheaval, the excitement too, it all feels so far away now, but at the time, Alex had barely been able to think about anything else than coming to terms with being gay and crushing hard on an intrepid detective.
Strange that: her conversations with Maggie she can remember very clearly, in minute detail. Every single interaction. She can smell the charred red carpet of their first meeting, can feel the weight of her hand in hers, can hear the song that was playing when they danced. Everything else that was happening at the time though, is a blur burried in white noise.
There’s this mounting trepidation while she’s climbing the stairs to her apartment and her heart beats a tad faster: will Maggie be there, waiting for her in front of her door? Will she say she misses her, ask to get back together, promise they’ll work it out? If they kiss, will she taste the same?
She reaches the top of the stairs and looks up: the landing is empty.
She’s too tired to try and find words for how it makes her feel.
She places her thumb on the scanner, steps inside when the door opens and turns the lights on. She’d like nothing more than to sink into the couch and close her eyes. But first things first: she takes a black bag and cleans the flat. The bottles are the first to go: empty, half-full, brand new, she doesn’t want to see or smell a single drop of alcohol anymore. Then come the clothes: she stuffs anything that reminds her of Maggie into the bag. The top she was wearing the first time she stepped into Al’s Dive bar. The mask she wore while undercover at Roulette’s fightclub. A bottle of spoilt milk, two expired yoghurts and a moldy lemon follow suit. Once she’s done, she ties the bag closed, slings it over her shoulder and leaves. She draws some satisfaction from hearing glass shatter when she throws it in the large bin behind her block.
Now what?
She goes through the motions: unlacing her boots, getting out of these clothes, a long hot shower. She rummages through her drawer, looking for her favourite pyjama pants before she remembers they now lie soaked in cheap vodka at the bottom of a dumpster. She goes to bed in her underwear, ignoring the grumbling of her stomach. The perspective of food is unappealing and the idea of spending one more second on her feet to cook or order food unacceptable.
Back when Kara had first mentioned meeting Barry, Alex had been stuck on the ramifications of the existence of alternate dimensions. Not that the multiverse had been a new concept for her: she had spent hours debating the topic at university with other overenthusiastic nerds. But this was Kara, confirming its existence.
Aliens she had had time – years – to wrap her mind around. Been forced to, really, what with one following her around day in day out like a lost puppy, in those first weeks when Kara’s mere presence would set Alex off.
But other Earths?
That was something else entirely.
Other Earths. Other Supers.
Other secret government agencies. Other NCPDs.
Does she have a counterpart on every Earth? How many Alex’ and how many Maggies found their way to each other? How many are together right now, in this very moment? How many married? How many started a family?
She can feel the tears well up. There she goes again, thinking about Maggie.
It shouldn’t be so hard to focus on something else. After all, she – Alex Danvers – did just have a one night stand. With the white canary, no less. She’ll have to ask Sara where that strange nickname comes from. It wasn’t a mistake or a distraction. It hasn’t made the pain go away, not really, but it feels good, somehow. Maybe if she could remember the night itself, it’d be an easier memory to revisit. One more reason to avoid alcohol from now on: she can’t remember much beyond kissing and groping outside the venue.
Sara’s advice to trust her instincts should in theory be an easy one to follow, but ever since the breakup – maybe ever since her gay awakening – Alex’s been second guessing herself. How could she not: after all, she had spent years bottling emotions up and silencing her instincts so well, that she had genuinely believed to be into men. She’d never been with a woman before, never been in a relationship before. Breaking it off with Maggie hadn’t been instinct. It had been a decision and with no experiences to fall back on, Alex can’t help but still wonder, sometimes, if she made the right one. And Maggie? Being with Maggie had made her happy, this giddy all-consuming type of happy that Alex doesn’t think she’d ever felt before.
There’s clearly no escaping thoughts about Maggie tonight.
She falls asleep, exhausted.
It stays with her for days.
The fact that she’s single is the first thing to pop into her mind when she wakes up. Not the best of ways to start her day.
“I had a one night stand” she thinks, wiping the fog of her shower away and looking at herself in the mirror. She grabs her toothbrush and applies the paste. “With an assassin.”
“I had a one night stand” she thinks, while finishing her bowl of cereal and piling it in the dishwasher. “With a beautiful, confident and bad-ass captain of a spacetimeship.”
And if the smile she sends herself before exiting her apartment for another day at the DEO is a little bit cocky, who can really blame her?