A/N: This is a continuation fic of 'Off Trail'. It's not exactly a sequel, but it does handle most of the themes involved in that story, so I highly suggest reading it before you start this one.

Enjoy the read!

It took Maggie Sawyer three weeks to get back to work at the precinct after the invasion.

Mostly because the building itself had been horribly damaged by the Daxamite soldiers. Her colleagues had been forced to relocate to other stations for the time being, until the building was renovated.

But the main reason why it took Maggie nearly a month to get back to work, was because she was terrified.

Terrified of ever leaving Alex alone again.

The first days after being discharged from the DEO med bay, with strict orders for both herself and Alex to get as much rest as possible, had been relatively okay.

With Kara stopping by every five seconds to check if they needed anything, it was easy for Maggie to hold on to Alex, as the biggest part of their days was spent sleeping in Alex's way too large bed, spooning.

She fought hard to stay awake, because she knew that once she closed her eyes, the nightmarish scenes of losing Alex at the hands of that fucking alien and Finley's burnt and lifeless body would come haunt her. It was exhausting, but she knew that she had to take care of Alex, so she couldn't be weak. She couldn't be screaming or crying, that wasn't what Alex needed.

But after a few days of barely getting any sleep, the dark circles under her eyes and her weakened, frail state hadn't been lost on either Danvers sister.

It was Kara that asked about it first, when Alex was sleeping and Maggie was up, trying to pour herself a drink without waking her. Kara had flown in through the window to check on them, almost startling Maggie enough to drop the glass on the floor.

"Mags, you look…" Kara had cut herself off trying to find the right words. But they hadn't come to her, as Maggie put on a weak smile and pretended that everything was fine.

"It's alright, Kara. Must be my pain meds wearing off."

The blonde hadn't seemed completely convinced but she'd let it go at least, looking conflicted as she watched Maggie down the glass of whiskey.

Alex had noticed it too after a few days, when she was finally well enough to stand up and 'walk' around by herself, with a crutch. Maggie had been there the whole time, holding her up and making sure that she was still okay. But the agent saw how Maggie was always up before her, and only went to sleep after she was sure that Alex was comfortable.

And when Alex woke up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying for Maggie, for anyone to come save them, Maggie was awake, whispering in her ear and holding her.

She didn't even know if Maggie was sleeping at all.

So when they were finally alone, eight days after they were discharged and they were curled up on the couch watching some movie she'd picked, Alex took a deep breath.

"Mags?"

"Mmhm." The detective replied weakly from her spot on Alex's chest.

The agent started playing with her fiancées curls absent-mindedly as she frowned and paused the movie. "Are you sleeping?"

"I'm talking to you?" Maggie laughed weakly. But Alex recognized how hollow it sounded.

"No, I mean like… In general."

Maggie went quiet after that. She didn't want to lie to Alex, but she also didn't want to worry her.

She felt Alex wrap her arms around her a little tighter.

"I get it." Alex had whispered.

And that was all Maggie needed to burst out in tears, and whisper how scared she was of sleeping, that there'd be someone by their bedside to take Alex away from her, that she was still seeing Laurent and Finley and Alice every time she closed her eyes.

And Alex nodded and held her, and understood. Because Alex felt the same. But Alex knew that she needed to recover quickly and get as much rest as possible to get back to the DEO and back to work, even though that meant the horrible nightmares would come fast.

Though none of that mattered if Maggie wasn't okay. And Alex cursed herself for not seeing sooner that the detective was actually not alright at all.

So without any scolding or telling Maggie how ridiculous she was acting, she called up the therapist J'onn had obligated her to visit, and asked him if she could squeeze Maggie in with her.

The next morning during their breakfast, when she was confident that Maggie had at least had some sleep, she told her about the appointment with Dr. Fisher, the resident psychologist at the DEO.

"I'm starting tonight, and I'm going to go every other day. I called him, he said it's fine if you come with me so we can go together, but if you prefer going alone, he can get you a separate appointment."

She hadn't expected Maggie to shake her head immediately. "No. No way."

Alex frowned, as she lowered her coffee cup. "What?"

"I don't do shrinks, Alex."

The power in Maggie's voice confused Alex completely. It wasn't a casual conversation anymore; Maggie was actually offended and defensive.

"Why not? There's no shame in-…" Alex started, but Maggie put her cup down forcefully, causing some of the coffee to spill on the table. She jumped up. "I said I'm not going."

"Okay, okay!" Alex raised her hands quickly in surrender, completely baffled as to how her girlfriend had gone from sweet and caring to defensive and snappy in mere seconds.

Alex didn't understand. Of course, she herself had had trouble the first time J'onn had convinced her to walk into Dr. Fisher's office, after a particularly tough mission. It was hard to talk about her feelings, having been used to bottling them up for so long, to act strong in front of others, especially Kara.

She didn't go as often as she should, because she had other ways of coping – drinking was one of them. Her girlfriend was another. Coming home to Maggie giving her a massage and cuddling up to her on the couch sometimes was all she needed to forget about her day and feel loved and important.

But there were other days, when Maggie wasn't there, or the trauma was just too much. Then, she would spend hours sitting with him in his office, talking. Sometimes crying. Sometimes screaming.

But at the end of the day, she would thank him, walk out, and feel liberated. And she could go back to the DEO, to Kara, to Maggie, and compartmentalize her feelings until the next appointment.

So the fact that Maggie didn't want anything to do with it, came out of the blue. Alex had mentioned her therapy every now and then, and Maggie had sounded supportive, offering to give her a ride. But she'd never asked about them when Alex returned. The agent thought that the detective was giving her the space she needed – and maybe that wasn't untrue – but now, the possibility of Maggie genuinely not caring about it became very real.

"I'm going to work." Maggie grabbed her keys from the counter, and slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Alex alone, hurt and very much confused.

She rode with her helmet visor down, so nobody could see the tears pricking in her eyes, as she made her way over to the police station. Not that anyone looked at her, or paid attention to her.

But as she parked and pulled her helmet off, Maggie's breath was shaky, and she had to take a minute to compose herself before heading inside.

She hadn't meant to lose her patience with Alex. But all of the terrified nervousness inside her had piled up, and finally poured out at hearing that Alex wanted her to have therapy.

The rational part of her knew that Alex just wanted to help.

But therapy – for her – was never a solution. And of course Alex didn't know that. Nobody knew that, because she didn't make it other people's problem. But she was sure as hell never going to sit through a therapy session again.

She made a note to call Alex during a break, and apologize. Maybe even head to her apartment. But right now, the only way to take her mind off everything that happened, was to kick some criminal's ass, bury herself in paperwork, and pray that the coffee machine at the precinct had been upgraded.

After greeting some of her colleagues, and sharing quick and shallow conversations with them – some of them had heard about what happened in Montana, others ignorantly patted her on the shoulder and arm as she tried not to flinch in pain – she headed to the elevator. As she found it to be deserted, she sighed in relief at her moment of peace and quiet before the long day ahead of her, nursing her sore shoulder.

She'd been lucky that they'd taken her to the DEO. With the advanced technology they possessed, it had been relatively easy to repair and replace the burnt skin. There were scars, of course. But at least she wouldn't have to live the rest of her life with blistered and dead skin.

According to the research on the Magh'rah, his acid was corrosive, but it shouldn't have any lasting damage or side effects to her skin. So except for some lingering pain every now and then, especially when she aggravated her shoulder and arm, she was going to be fine.

Her insecurities about the scars lingered in the back of her mind, but she also knew that if Alex loved her, she wouldn't care at all about them. Especially now that Alex's body had also changed completely.

The bioengineers at the DEO were miracle workers, though. And she was so incredibly proud that Alex was often one of them. Because one night, when Alex was sleeping, one of them had been at their door, talking to Maggie about possible prosthetics and what was possible for her.

Turns out, nearly everything was possible. And with Alex's consent, they were already making her a new bionic prosthetic, that would react to neurological impulses. Maggie didn't know exactly how it worked, but to her it was close to magic. Alex would be able to walk, train, and eventually get back in the field without any foreseeable issues.

But Alex hadn't talked about it with her. The only thing they did was hold each other, comfort each other, and small-talk. They avoided the topic of Montana completely, neither of them wanting to open up that can of worms unless the both of them were ready.

And Maggie hadn't been ready at all.

The elevator doors opened, leading to the second floor, where her desk was. She was ready to head into her Lieutenant's office to tell him she was coming back to work, when she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder – fortunately, the left one.

As she spun around, she saw an old homicide detective, Ian Hayes. An old soul on the force, close to retirement. She'd always had a special bond with the man, ever since her first case in National City. She hadn't been paying attention, and when the perp had realized that, he'd taken a shot at her.

Hayes had pushed her away and taken the bullet right in the vest, earning him a broken rib. Maggie had never forgotten about the fact, and made sure that if Hayes ever needed something done, she'd do it.

"I heard about what happened." Hayes sighed. "I'm sure everybody's been asking if you're alright…"

Maggie smiled weakly. It was a subtle way of asking, without wanting to bother her. But she humored him anyway. "I'm alright. Nothing too bad."

"How's the girlfriend? She okay?"

Hayes had met Alex on one or two occasions, and had charmed her immediately. He'd 'approved' of Alex with a fatherly nudge and nod, and had been stoked to hear Maggie's anecdotes about her ever since. When Maggie had admitted that Alex had proposed, she'd sworn she'd seen tears in his eyes.

"It's gonna take some time." Maggie admitted. "Things are… weird."

"Listen, I get it if you have better things to do, but I was wondering if I could borrow you for a few minutes?"

"Of course. You could never bother me, Ian."

He smiled weakly as he lead her into an empty meeting room, closing the door behind them, and crossing his arms. "I… uh… Need your help."

Maggie had shared plenty of stumped cases with Ian, hoping to get a new outlook, so it wasn't that odd of a request. Not even something they couldn't discuss in the hallway. So she immediately suspected that there was more to it.

Hayes hesitated. "…It's about a case."

She nodded, waiting for him to elaborate. He took a deep breath, and laughed humorlessly. "I think I'm in trouble."

Maggie knew that most investigators and detectives had the one case that kept them up at night. She personally hadn't encountered hers, or at least not one that hadn't been solved yet. But apparently – Ian had been working on something after hours, and had run into trouble.

"… Five years ago. Four women murdered with the same MO and left in dumpsters all over the city. Every Friday evening for four weeks straight. We anticipated the pattern, but we didn't have any suspects. The fifth Friday we expected another body, but there was nothing, and the murders haven't happened since."

"Okay…" Maggie crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. She was curious to hear how Ian would come back to such a case.

He grunted. "I was storing evidence three days ago when I saw that the box about the cold case was open. So I checked it out."

Maggie raised an eyebrow. Sometimes, when she herself was down in the storage room, she opened up boxes of cases she or her division had worked on, just to see if she could find something new or interesting about it that they hadn't seen or considered before. Nothing shameful about it.

Hayes reached into his pocket, and fished out a note, looking around nervously before putting it in front of her on the conference table. "I got this in my mailbox at home the day after."

Maggie shifted the note so that it was facing her. It was printed, so there was no tracing the handwriting, but the message was clear.

Ian Hayes,

Retire from the force, or face the consequences.

Maggie chuckled, turning the note back to him. She was convinced that he was pulling a prank on her, and she almost fell for it.

But when she saw his serious expression, her smile faded. "Ian, you can't actually be serious. This is just a printed piece of paper, I could make that in two seconds." The mere thought that the 65-year old detective was actually taking this lousy threat seriously was absolutely ridiculous.

"But it's not just a piece of paper. It's the exact shape and font that the murderer of those women used for his notes to the police."

Maggie shook her head. "Ian, you're a brilliant detective and I love working alongside you, but if you take this stupid thing as a credible threat, I think you should hand in your badge anyway."

Hayes looked more disappointed in her reaction than anything. "I worked this case, Maggie. I swear to you that something's going on."

"Right." She took a deep breath, already feeling her headache return at the lack of painkillers that morning. "Well, I'm going to go to work. If you take that note to Lieutenant Cooper, I'm sure he'd love to hear all about it."

Honestly, she hadn't even meant for it to sound mean. She was just annoyed at how paranoid the man seemed to have become. It was just a stupid piece of paper. And she had other things on her mind than going ghost-hunting with him to find whoever had pranked him anyway.

So with a last roll of her eyes, she left him behind in the meeting room, heading back towards her desk.

The rest of her workday was slow, as she'd expected. But the paperwork did help in feeling useful again. Three weeks of sitting around doing nothing had taken a toll on her. And as much as she dreaded being away from Alex for a full day for the first time, it actually felt good going back to work.

After saying goodbye to her colleagues in the bullpen, Maggie put on her jacket and drove to Alex's apartment, which she now called her home. She still had her own apartment, but since Alex's was closer to both the DEO and the police precinct, she favored it on weekdays.

Her own apartment was closer to the bar, which lead to Saturdays and Sundays of waking up in her own bed with a hangover, and a – most of the time naked – Alex sleeping next to her.

She unlocked the door with the key Alex had given her, and put her helmet and keys down on the counter as she closed it behind her.

Alex was sat at the table browsing through a case file, but looked up as she saw Maggie standing in the doorway. "Hey."

"Hi." Maggie walked over to her, and kissed her on the lips as a greeting.

"How was your day?"

The detective walked over to the fridge and opened it. "Pretty boring. Did you eat already?"

"I was thinking pizza."

Maggie fished out a beer, and closed the fridge door. "Pizza sounds nice."

As she took the first sip of the cold beer, she sighed. She knew that they had to talk about the fight, she hated that she'd made Alex feel like she had to apologize for looking out for her.

"How was your therapy?"

"Uh, yeah." Alex closed the file in front of her and cleared her throat. "It was alright."

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

"Do you?" Alex countered with a frown, turning her attention to Maggie fully. "I mean, I… I get it if you don't, but I was just worried."

"I know." Maggie looked down. "It's… My fault, Danvers. Not yours."

Alex looked unhappy with the answer, and Maggie realized she was going to have to give her more than that.

"… I had a bad experience with therapy. I don't trust therapists. And I'm sure yours is great and wonderful and all that, but I can't help it. I don't do shrinks."

"Why didn't you say so? If I'd known, I would have never overstepped…"

"Yeah. Again, that's on me." Maggie put the beer down on the kitchen island. "I shouldn't have kept it from you, but I don't want to talk about it. And it doesn't matter. I'm fine."

The first lie of the evening. And it hadn't been lost on either of them. But Alex was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, if that's what Maggie needed.

"I'm sorry, Alex." The detective sighed. "I didn't mean to yell at you, you didn't know and you couldn't have. I shouldn't have snapped."

"Come here." Alex opened her arms, so that Maggie could come in for a hug, which she did. Alex rubbed her back, and whispered in her ear. "It's okay. No harm, no foul. Just… talk to me, okay? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Got it." Maggie whispered back, as she pulled away. "I'll order. The usual?"

It seemed like they were going to be okay. That relieved Maggie to no end, because she honestly didn't want to talk about what she'd gone through. Alex had every right to demand to know the truth about it, but she didn't. And that just made her love her more.

After pizza, the both of them ended up in bed pretty quickly. Her first day back had taken a toll on Maggie, and she assumed the therapy session had wiped Alex out too. But as they were lying in bed, both not asleep just yet, Alex cleared the silence.

"I stopped by the DEO after my session. The prosthetic is almost finished."

"Really?" Maggie turned, so that she was on her side facing Alex. The agent did the same, and nodded. "Yeah. They said it should only take a couple of more days. Maybe I could get back to work next week."

"That's great, Al." Maggie beamed, as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around her and pull her closer.

The first time they'd laid down together, and she tried to pull into Alex, it had been weird not to feel two feet underneath her, though she'd never admit that to her. She didn't know if Alex was self-conscious about it.

She'd voiced her doubts in the med bay when they were still admitted, but hadn't talked about it since. Maggie assumed that the best way to handle it was to just act normal about it, and give Alex the space to talk about it, should she want to. Now, she was almost used to the stump below Alex's right knee.

"They said that field work would probably take a few more weeks, depending on how fast I adjust to it, but it shouldn't take more than a month." Alex sounded genuinely happy that she could return to her job soon.

"I love you, Alex." Maggie smiled, still feeling butterflies in her stomach at how gorgeous Alex was, lying in bed next to her.

"I love you too, Mags." Alex copied the content smile. "We really should get working on the wedding."

"Who cares." Maggie shook her head. "I don't need a big ceremony or a lot of fuss, Alex. I just want us to be happy. We could get married tomorrow."

"We could." Alex hummed. "… Though I doubt Kara would be happy to hear that she missed it."

Maggie laughed at the mental picture of Kara's face as the two of them told her that they couldn't wait for her to get hitched. She'd be heartbroken. And probably go on a potsticker bender.

She hadn't realized that she'd fallen asleep, until a rough banging on Alex's door made her eyes snap open. Instinctively, she reached for her gun on the nightstand, knocking over the lamp in the process and cursing loudly at the sound of it smashing into pieces on the floor.

"Mag-shit…" She heard Alex curse next to her as she hissed in pain, covering her still aching chest from the pain of sitting up too fast. When the banging continued, Alex reached for her own still intact lamp, and clicked it on.

"What time is it…" Maggie whispered, as she saw Alex struggling to get up on one leg. She pushed her back onto the bed. "It's fine, I'll go."

She pulled the gun behind her back, and headed into the living room, switching the light on and looking through the spyhole.

There was a man standing outside in the hallway, looking grim, and wearing a badge identical to hers. She frowned, and pulled the door open.

She recognized him from the precinct. Michael Holmes, one of the detectives at Homicide that she'd worked with a few times.

"Sawyer." He greeted her.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked, narrowing her eyes. She heard the rustling of sheets coming from the bed, and knew that Alex was listening in.

Holmes flashed his badge. "Michael Holmes, NCPD homicide."

"I know who you are, Holmes." Maggie frowned. "Why the bit? What happened?"

Holmes cleared his throat, and took out his phone, showing Maggie a picture.

It was the dead body of a man, lying on top of a pile of trash in a dumpster.

Still wearing the clothes she'd seen him in earlier.

Her stomach dropped.

"Do you recognize this man, Sawyer?" Holmes asked.

Maggie tried to swallow the newly formed lump in her throat, as she nodded. "That's… That looks like Detective Ian Hayes."

"It is." Holmes nodded. "His body was found about an hour ago in a dumpster downtown. And this is what was next to him."

He swiped right for another picture. The alley. A note stuck to the side of the dumpster.

Unmistakably identical to the one Ian had showed her that morning.

Maggie Sawyer.

Retire from the force, or face the consequences.