Work Text:
i.
The first time Alex felt like the world was closing in on her, she didn't know how to cope with it.
She’s too young to be feeling this much, she thinks, as she watches Vicki Donahue draped over some boy at a house party in her senior year.
High school is almost over, and Alex has kissed some boys. She never really enjoyed it but she assumed that’s how it was meant to feel.
She didn’t want to do any more though, didn’t want to even think about them touching her anywhere that wasn’t strictly friendly, definitely didn’t want to have sex with any of them.
Vicki did though. She wanted to have sex with a boy and she told Alex this and Alex hadn’t said anything, and then Vicki did have sex with a boy and she told Alex this too, and once more Alex didn’t say anything, just tried not to think about the way her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
She’d held out until she got home, and then she cried.
Now Vicki is with the same boy, the one who she let touch her in that way and they’re making out and Alex feels her eyes begin to sting and she hates it.
She hates feeling this much, so she decides to make herself feel less, and turns away from her best friend to take a shot.
And another.
And another.
She doesn’t stop, just keeps drinking until the party is shut down, and her mother picks her up. She knows better, even in this state, than to talk on the drive home, can sense her mother’s disappointment in her ramrod straight back and white knuckle grip on the steering wheel.
All she says to Alex is, “Be quiet, don’t wake your sister,” and Alex does what she’s told.
Not that it matters, because Alex lies awake, while the room spins around her, and suddenly Kara is beside her.
“Are you okay?”
Alex makes a movement that is somewhere between a nod and a shake, and it’s appropriate, because she doesn't know if she is okay.
“Did you drink a lot tonight?”
“Too much.” Alex whispers back.
Kara helps her sit up, and hands her a glass of water and something about the kindness in her gesture encourages Alex.
“It’s Vicki.”
Kara doesn’t respond, but Alex can just about make out the questioning tilt of her head in the darkened room.
“She slept with someone.”
“It’s okay that you haven’t, Alex, I’m sure it’ll happen.”
“No, that’s not it. I don’t want to.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Alex doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t understand these feelings herself, and her head is spinning and thinking is too difficult right now for her to figure it out so she changes the subject.
Or at least tries to, but apparently she’s got a one track mind at the minute.
“She’s really good at soccer. And she’s really funny. And so smart, Kara. She’s even smarter than me.”
And Kara, God bless Kara, Alex thinks, because she is so young and so new to this planet, but she seems to understand. She sets Alex’s water on the nightstand and lies them both down so they’re facing each other, brushing hair from Alex’s face.
“What else do you like about her?”
That should scare Alex, the realisation that there’s so much she likes about her, but Kara’s hand is warm on her arm and her voice is understanding and Alex feels safe (and drunk) enough to say it.
“She’s so pretty. The prettiest girl I know.”
Alex doesn’t remember much after that, just wakes up in the morning with a face full of blonde hair and a mouth drier than the desert.
Kara mentions their conversation the next day, just hints at Vicki, and Alex remembers so vividly everything she said about her, but she no longer feels safe, she’s no longer in the haven Kara created for her to talk about her, so she lies.
“I don’t remember anything from when I got home,” she bluffs, with a laugh that she hopes hides the fact that it’s blatantly not true.
And if Kara can tell, she doesn’t push.
ii.
The next time that it happens, Alex is in college.
It's been a long day after a long week and med school is hard and she hast spoken to her mother or her sister in weeks and she misses her father and she doesn't know what to do.
She feels like she has nobody, feels like she needs to be close to somebody, to feel like she matters-
So she goes out.
She pulls on her tightest jeans and a low cut top, meticulously does her makeup, and drinks three glasses of whiskey before she even leaves. She ends up at a club she's never been to before, dancing with a guy she doesn't recognise, doesn't want to recognise, and she can't shake the feeling that it isn't right.
The mans hands are heavy on her hips and his lips are chapped and his stubble scratches her face uncomfortably and all Alex can think is that she shouldn't be doing this. The club is dark and the music is thumping and Alex has drank enough to numb her a little but not enough that she can't feel this, not enough that she can't stop this, so all she feels is a deep shame that she doesn't.
She wants to.
God, she wants to push him away and go home and wallow, drink some whiskey and pass out.
But she doesn't.
Instead, she lets him take her hand and lead her into the alley behind the club. He kisses her against the wall and she lets him. His hand brushes the waistband of her jeans and he pulls back, waits for permission, and this is her chance-
Instead, she nods and closes her eyes and tries to focus on the feel of the wall against her back and rough hands in her underwear that feel so wrong.
She forgets about the weight on her heart for a second.
In the morning, her hangover hits hard and she feels dirty, has to take three showers before she feels clean again.
iii.
The third time that it happens, Alex has figured out that boys aren't the solution.
She's training with the DEO now, so drinking until she can't feel isn't a viable solution either, not when she has work early in the morning.
The rain is battering the window, and normally it comforts her but tonight it's making her restless and her fists are clenching of their own accord and she’s frustrated, because she doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that she can't stay still any longer.
So she runs.
She's been working out a lot lately, more intensely than she ever has in her life, so it takes a lot more for her to tire. Still, she keeps running until her chest is tight and the rain has soaked through her and her legs are weak and she's shivering- she runs until she can't physically move any more, and then she collapses on a bench.
She feels like she could cry, feels like she wants to cry.
She doesn't.
She sits until she feels like she can stand again, and walks back to her apartment.
When she gets home, she strips out of her sopping clothes in the living room, and drags herself into a shower. She turns the water as hot as she can bear it, and stays in it until her whole body is red, but she still doesn’t cry.
She still hasn’t managed to suppress the ache in her chest, but her body is so sore and so tired that sleep comes quickly, and in the morning her mind has cleared.
She still feels the effects of her night in the training room the next day, but nobody mentions if she’s moving a little stiffer than usual.
iv.
The fourth time it happens, Alex realises that boys definitely aren’t the solution, but maybe girls could be.
The only issue is that in this case the girl was the problem too.
It’s been a hard few weeks.
She’s come out to Maggie, told her sister, kissed Maggie, been rejected by Maggie-
All the hope she felt when she realised who she was just hurts now.
So she drinks.
She drinks and she doesn’t let herself cry, just sits on the couch ignoring Kara and trying to ignore the feeling in her chest.
Kara doesn’t let her do that for long though.
Alex loves her sister, loves her unyielding dedication to the people she cares about, and when Kara holds her and tells her she’s going to be okay, Alex almost believes her.
But then Supergirl is needed somewhere, and Alex is alone again and she decides that it isn’t fair.
If Maggie doesn’t want her, then she’ll find someone who does.
It’s like she’s back in college, she gets dressed up and goes out and dances with a stranger.
This time though it’s a woman and she’s in a gay bar and when they kiss it’s softer and sweeter, and the hands tugging at the button on her jeans are small and more gentle that the man from back then.
It isn’t Maggie, though, and Alex hates that this is what stops her.
“I can’t, I’m sorry.”
The girl pulls away, confused and a little upset looking, but doesn’t question any further.
She simply leaves the toilet cubicle, stops by the mirror to fix her makeup and then she’s gone.
Alex drinks three more shots before she leaves the bar and passes out on her sofa.
When she wakes in the morning she feels like she’s cheated, feels disappointment in herself swell inside her, but she tries not to think about it.
v.
Alex has been with Maggie for three months now.
Alex hasn’t had a bad night in three months, and she thinks that maybe there’s some correlation there, maybe all she needed all along was someone to love her, until it happens again.
Nothing changes in their relationship, Maggie doesn’t do anything wrong (she’s nothing but sweet and gentle and loving with Alex) but Alex has had a hard day at work and she misses her father, hates that she knows he’s alive now, yet she still can’t save him, hates how useless it makes her feel.
By the time Maggie arrives for date night, Alex has reached the bottom of three drinks.
“Hey babe”
Alex doesn’t reply, just turns to let Maggie in to her apartment, pouring herself another drink.
“Babe?” Maggie’s face changes from it’s usual bright smile around Alex to a look of concern.
“Maggie I just want to be alone right now.” Alex doesn’t turn to see the hurt on Maggie’s face, just listens as the door shuts and breathes a sigh of relief.
Until there’s a hand on the small of Alex’s back and another one easing the glass from between hers to set on the counter and Alex realises that Maggie shut the door but stayed on this side of it. She didn't leave.
“Talk to me.” Alex can’t look at her, already ashamed of herself, so she simply shakes her head.
“Alex. Look at me. Talk to me.” The hand that isn’t on Alex’s back is intertwined with her own now, and the warmth in Maggie’s voice almost makes her give in.
Then Maggie whispers “please,” in the softest, gentlest voice, and Alex breaks.
She cries.
She cries, and clutches on to Maggie like she’s drowning, and Maggie lets her.
Maggie navigates them both towards the couch, and holds Alex until the tears finally stop.
Maggie’s hand teases its way through Alex’s hair and it’s so reminiscent of the first time she felt like this, when Kara made her feel safe enough to talk about it, that Alex cries a little bit more.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m right here, baby girl. Take your time.”
And Alex does. It takes all night before she finally manages to explain how she’s feeling. How sometimes everything is too much and she doesn’t know what to do about it.
Maggie listens, stroking Alex’s hair and kissing her gently when words fail her.
When Alex apologises for being stupid, for ruining their date night, Maggie tells her that she's allowed to feel like this, tells her never to apologise for something she can't help, tells her it's okay, that it's going to be okay.
By the time they fall asleep, tangled together on Alex’s bed, her chest isn’t so tight, and breathing comes easy.
When she wakes in the same position, she doesn’t feel guilt, or shame, or embarrassment like she’s so used to after nights like these.
She feels like so much of a weight has been lifted off of her.
She looks at Maggie, so beautiful as she sleeps, eyes closed and mouth hanging a little bit open, and she just feels better.