-PROLOGUE-

(ALEX)

It's late.

Well, technically it's just tipped past the point where ridiculously late becomes ridiculously early, but either way, Alex is still awake. Because she can't stand the thought of sleeping in that bed, even if it's just lying there, without Maggie. Because she can't bear to be in this apartment alone unless she's too many shots deep in a bottle of something she told Kara she poured down the sink.

Because God, even the fucking scotch tastes like her, like the echo of its sharp tang on Maggie's lips after a night spent together at the bar.

She's wearing that shirt again. The one from the early days in their relationship, when everything was new and shiny, and neither of them were entirely sure which oversized black shirt belonged to who. Part of Alex hopes it was Maggie's – it's the intoxicated part of her brain, desperate to cling on to any memory she can get, and it hurts like hell. It used to smell like her, but, now it just smells like whisky.

Unfortunately for drunk Alex, sober Alex found the Hello sunshine t-shirt that morning and now it lies screwed up into a little orange ball in the corner of the kitchen. As much as it hurts to remember all the memories they made everywhere in the apartment, the only thing that's more gut-wrenching to look at is her own reflection; sober Alex took the liberty of sitting facing away from the bathroom mirror. There's that, at least.

Alex's head isn't even spinning anymore. The nauseous stage has long since faded into the you'd-have-a-hangover-if-you-stopped-now stage, but there doesn't seem to be a reason to stop taking sips of the amber liquid in the bottle, and Alex isn't exactly in the position to question anything right now. She hasn't been this drunk since before she joined the DEO, in the first part of her life, the 'before'. Now, with the return of substance abuse is the 'after'.

Great, Alex thinks. Another thing she's fucked up without a second thought. Maggie was right. Of course she was. About the drinking, for one. Not that anyone else had seen it as anything beyond a slightly unhealthy coping mechanism, rather than a real problem – Maggie had seen through that before they were even really together. And the impulsiveness - that, too. The detective definitely had a point when it came to Alex rushing into things without thinking: most of her major decisions lately have been no exception.

There are three rules that Alex set herself for tonight.

One: don't let Kara know you're passively trying to drink yourself to death.

That one may not go as well as planned, seeing as Alex is meant to be at the DEO in three hours, but frankly, the yearning deep in Alex's soul can only really be dealt with under the influence. Whether she ends up with a fucked up liver is beside the point.

Two: don't call Mom again without thinking.

Even the thought of Eliza's condescending tone and barely disguised disappointment makes her stomach lurch, and it's only partially the scotch.

Three?

Well, three was the simplest. No crying.

Alex raises her glass to take another sip, only to realise after a few minutes of drunken confusion that it's empty. Oh, well, she muses – the bottle is a perfectly good substitute to drinking out of a glass.

You don't get to cry. This is on you. You don't get to cry.

At this point, Alex isn't completely sure she's capable getting up to walk to bed, and that's assuming she could tolerate herself for a second longer than she has to with one side of the mattress being cold.

Alex can feel her pulse thrumming in her temple, and black spots dance in front of her eyes as she blinks numbly at the wall.

That's new.

There's a shrill ringing noise in her ears. Her ringtone, she figures out a few minutes later, fumbling around in the dim light. She'd told J'onn to leave her alone. Apparently, not turning up to work without any excuse other than 'I don't deserve to get out of bed' makes her a shitty agent. That was always the one thing she could succeed at – her job. Shitty daughter. Shitty fiancée. Shitty sister. Now, shitty agent.

Right – the phone.

Alex squints at the too-bright screen, and her chest aches with longing when she realises it's not who she wanted it to be. That would be bad, though. Really bad. Maggie deserves so much better than to put up with her incoherent, rambling ex after what she put her through. Maggie Sawyer had always deserved better, always will, deserve better.

"Alex? Alex, are you there?"

Oh god. Winn. She hadn't meant to answer that. She fumbles for the end call button, jabbing her finger against the screen repeatedly until the screen goes dark.

Close enough.

It's too hot in here, and Alex can hear the heady rush of alcohol pulsing in her ears. Her head comes to rest against the coldness of the wall, a sudden spike of nausea making her stomach heave. It takes a long few minutes of retching before any vomiting actually happens, and Alex thanks her past self for drinking in the bathroom as acid burns in her throat.

Eventually, there's nothing left in her stomach, and only whisky in her veins. All Alex wants now is to sleep, to forget about everything. For the first few days, sleep had been a relief, an escape, even, but now there hasn't been a single morning over the past few months when Alex hasn't woken up with the taste of blood and salty tears in her mouth. Fuck it, Alex decides, giving in to a state of semi-consciousness, slumped against the bath.

/

Someone's shaking her.

Alex's eyes flutter open and a hot flash of pain immediately radiates through her skull, settling behind her eyes and pulsating horribly despite the darkness of the room. Her body seems to ache everywhere, her limbs full of lead. The pain in her stomach comes as a surprise, twisting back and forth like a knife.

"What are you doing in here?" Winn asks, gripping Alex's shoulders hard enough to draw her attention.

No one was supposed to find her like this. She was meant to sleep it off. Alone. She needs to be alone. Shit – he's going to tell Kara about this, of course he is. That was the one thing she was trying to avoid. The hundreds of thoughts bounce painfully off the inside of her skull as Winn slips his hands under her arms, pulling her gently upright as pain stabs through her abdomen.

"Go away, Winn," she mutters, the words slurring together.

Alex feels his shoulders sag in relief at the sound of her voice. Her voice cracks without her consent, the raw pain grasping at her chest seeping into her voice. It's harsh – too harsh; Winn's only trying to help. He cares about you.

She chokes on a half-formed sob.

He shouldn't.

"Alex. Open your eyes."

Now that's really too much to ask. She does it anyway, if only to shut him up. Every sound feels like a punch to the head, like something resembling her spectacular loss against a Hellgrammite last year.

"Winn."

"Winn. I said get out," she chokes out, trying feebly to shove him off her. The room lurches sideways at the movement, and thankfully his grip on her shoulders never wavers. Everything's too bright, too real, and her whole body is tense with pain, shoulders shaking hard with tears.

"No, Alex. Okay? I'm not leaving you like… like this."

Somehow, Winn gets Alex sitting up enough that he can hold her. Luckily, he doesn't seem to care that his shirt is suddenly soaked in tears, or that Alex reeks of alcohol. Her heart is thudding like it's trying to escape from her chest, suffocating any attempt at breathing Alex can muster between sobs. She loves her so much that she can't breathe without her, and she hates herself for it.

You did this. You did this. You did this.

Minutes stretch into years, and suddenly Kara's voice is by her side, asking too much, asking her to breathe. Warm hands cup her face, pulling her close, whispering something Alex can't focus on enough to understand in her ear.

Finally, her breathing slows, the choking grief relaxing its hold on her throat and giving way to numbness. He's speaking again, asking her to open her eyes, but it's too much all at once, and Alex feels herself slipping away from reality.

/

The first thing Alex registers is the pulsing ache in her head. She opens her eyes, struggling to focus on the white ceiling above her head until the awful sound of a chair scraping against the floor makes her jump.

"Kara?"

Winn turns around, moving quickly enough that he nearly falls over a chair in the process.

"You're awake."

There's no anger in his voice, no disappointment. Instead, there's just concern, just fear. Alex scans the room, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion at the beeping monitors and IV bags.

"What-"

"We're in National City General - I called an ambulance. Please don't hate me, you just, you looked so pale, and you were unresponsive, and I googled alcohol poisoning, and well…"

To Alex's relief, Winn trails off into silence. The IV tugs annoyingly at her arm as she waita silently for Winn to call Kara or something.

"Alex… what happened?"

Alex winces as she draws her knees up to her chest, taking the glass of water he presses into her hand. She stares blankly at the wall, unsure of what Winn wants her to say.

"Alex-"

"I'm fine now. Please. I need to be alone."

"No, Alex, you're not fine. Clearly."

The lump in Alex's throat grows more prominent.

"Please."

He shakes his head as Alex buries her face in her hands.

"You gave yourself alcohol poisoning, Alex. You're a doctor. You know this."

"Do you think if I cared I would've done that?"

Winn's face falls, and guilt immediately washes over Alex.

I shouldn't have said that.

There's a long silence, and Win sits down next to her, gently, as if Alex is about to shatter.

"I can't stop thinking," Alex swallows hard, her voice breaking, "I'm disgusted with myself."

"Kara told me you were doing better."

"It's been months. I thought I'd feel better by now – even a tiny bit. The more I think about it, the more I… I just, I hate myself. More than anything, I just wish I hadn't-"

"But you two broke up for a reason, right?"

"Don't make it sound so fair. I threw Maggie out of my life like it was nothing. We were going to get married, Winn, and I just… I ruined everything based on something I know I can never have."

"That's not true."

"You know it is," Alex hisses, glancing at the open door, "I work for a secret government organisation that doesn't technically exist. My sister is a superhero. I get kidnapped on a regular basis. I can't have kids. It would be selfish, dangerous, even."

"You can't blame yourself for all of it, Alex."

"You know what, Winn? Yeah, I can. Because it was me, it was all me. Maggie deserved so much better than this. I know you can't see past this, but really, it's not even about me."

"What do you mean?"

Alex takes a deep breath, rubbing at the tears welling in her eyes.

"I walked into Maggie's life, and became just another person out of the long list of assholes who got her to trust me, then abandoned her."

"You still love her, don't you?"

"More than anything," Alex admits, "which is why I hate this so much. I hate myself for doing this to her. She asked me, begged me, even to reconsider it, and I just ended it, like it was nothing. What kind of person… what kind of monster-"

"Danvers," a voice growls from the doorway, "stop!"

Alex's head whips to the side at the exclamation. Her heart clenches immediately, ceasing to beat for a few seconds as she takes in the woman standing in the doorway.

"Maggie?"