After a few moments, Maggie excuses herself and leaves the bar. She knows the polite thing to do would have been to stay, to get to know Kara and James better. She likes Kara, and, god, if Kara is Alex's sister, and Alex is Maggie's soulmate, then…jesus, no, she can't think like that yet. And James seems genuinely nice, and Maggie thinks she'll probably come to really like him.

But, just now, no. No. She can't stay there and make idle chit-chat and play more get-to-know-you games with them when her entire life is on fire.

All she can think about is Alex. She has to see Alex, she has to talk to Alex, she has to touch Alex.

She needs Alex to know, too.

She isn't sure she'll be able to breathe until Alex knows too.

It scares her, this visceral urge to immediately confess, to tell Alex this instant. It scares her, as she gets on her bike and rides to the station, and as she boots up her computer, and as she looks up Alex's address, and as she gets back on her bike, and as she rides to Alex's apartment, and as she knocks just in case Alex had faked the call or fixed it so quickly, and as she presses her back against the door, and as she slides her body down, settling on the floor to wait.

It scares her because she's never been the type to share her feelings, especially not when they're so new and hot. She's always played things close to the vest, she's always kept things close to herself – the bigger and more tender, the closer she's held them.

So it scares her that she genuinely feels like she's going to die if she doesn't share this with Alex, immediately and fully. She wishes she could go home and process and figure out a plan for how to tell Alex without spooking her. A plan for figuring out if Alex likes girls. A plan for making Alex realize it for herself, just in case she's still too blinded by heterosexuality to have gotten it from Nebraska and M and girls and abomination and sharks.

A plan for how to play this cool. A plan for how to protect herself if this goes badly. A plan for how to keep some of the power – to not just hand her entire soul to Alex and just pray that Alex could one day love her back.

A plan for if Alex isn't gay enough to love her back, not like that.

A plan for if Alex had believed abomination. For if Alex, somewhere inside of herself, still believes abomination.

But she can't.

She can't, and that terrifies her.

She can't leave. She can't wait. She can't plan, she can't play it cool, she can't hold herself back.

All she can do is sit here on the floor and lean against Alex's door and wait for her to come home.


She sits for hours. She has to get up a couple times and do laps of the hallway because her legs and butt keep getting numb, but she always returns to her spot, settling against the smooth gray wood of the door, her legs either drawn up to her chest or crossed underneath her body or spread out long in front of her.

She traces the pattern in the carpet with her fingertips until she could recreate it from memory.

But finally, after what feels like months, she hears the stairway door open from around the corner. And the elevator has dinged many times while she's been here and the stairway door has opened a couple times, but Maggie just knows that this time it's Alex.

She's right.

Alex turns the corner and she sees her and she stops short, just a few feet away.

Maggie heaves herself to her feet, and wishes she'd done a lap of the hallway more recently. She isn't sure if it was the long hours of sitting that are making her legs wobble, or if it's the knowledge of what's about to happen. Or if it's just seeing Alex, windswept and exhausted and beautiful. And hers.

Maggie's spent a lot of her time on the floor wondering how Alex will react to seeing her. If, now that Maggie's said sharks, she knows.

"Mag," Alex says, and her voice cracks but she obviously tries to ignore it. "What are you doing here?"

Okay, then. Alex is going to try to play it cool, like sharks didn't happen. Like a Resonance at age twelve didn't happen. Like Kara didn't fall off her chair.

But her voice cracked. She has to know. She knows.

It's cute, in a way, her pretending, but Maggie is not having it. Maggie's on fire – she has been for hours. Alex is cute and Alex is avoiding but Maggie is dying.

"We need to talk," she manages to say without crying or flinging herself at Alex.

"It's late," Alex says, like that matters. "Maybe we can try tomorrow?"

And Maggie's already been waiting on this floor for her for hours, and she's been waiting to be loved by someone since she was fourteen, and she's been waiting to meet her soulmate since she was five years old, and she's pretty sure she's waited long enough.

Alex is adorable and Alex is scared and Alex is avoiding but Maggie is hers and she can't wait another fucking second to know if Alex wants her back.

So she settles her body, flexing her muscles under her jacket and stacking her bones on top of each other. She stands her ground. "No. Not tomorrow, not next week. Tonight, Alex. Right now."

Alex gives the smallest little nod, and Maggie just wants to reach out and touch her hair and hold her and whisper that it's all going to be okay.

Alex unlocks the door and they walk inside. Alex tries to change the subject again ("How did you find out my address?"), but Maggie didn't sit in that hallway for hours to talk about anything other than the fact that her entire self belongs to Alex.

She shuts it down immediately. "I'm a detective, Danvers," she deadpans, clearly brushing it off. "I detect."

Alex doesn't say anything else, and Maggie had spent hours on the carpeted floor, but has no idea where to start.

"Alex," is all she can manage.

She's inside Alex's apartment, and they're alone together in private for the first time ever, and they're both still wearing their jackets and it doesn't really feel intimate but it's also the most intimate thing that's ever happened.

This woman is standing in front of her and she's strong and powerful and sweet and brilliant and gorgeous and Maggie's pretty sure she already loves her and she's definitely Maggie's best shot at being loved.

Even if she's never loved a girl before.

And she'd almost fallen off her chair at the bar, and Kara had fallen off her chair, and she knows. She knows, Alex knows, and Maggie is done dancing around this. She's been wondering for weeks and weeks – since the first second she'd laid eyes on Alex, squinting in the sunshine on that tarmac, her suit crisp and her hair blowing in the wind – if Alex's ink had been about her.

And it had – it had – and they both know it.

Maggie just opens her mouth and lets it fall out. "I need to hear you say it."

Alex just blinks.

Maggie knows she isn't making sense – there are so many things she needs to hear Alex say – but it feels like her brain is mush, like it's just throbbing to the rhythm of Alex's name, and she can barely form words.

She's never been more terrified in her life. She's never been more vulnerable. She's spent every year of her life since she was fourteen cowering under the deafening roar of fear that no one would ever really love her back. But how much she needs Alex to be able to love her back – to love her like this, hot and molten and fierce – mutes all of that other need, fading it into complete silence.

Now it's just Alex, screaming in her ears and thudding in her brain and thundering in her chest. She just needs Alex.

So she says the only thing that feels true. "I know, Alex, I know it's you. I know it is. I can feel it, Alex, when I look at you, when I think about you. I know it's you."

Alex still doesn't say anything, and it slices into Maggie, hot and jagged, that her worst fears may be coming true. That Alex might not believe her. That Alex might be too straight to believe her. That she might be too damaged and unloveable for Alex to believe her. That she might be not just a woman but also an abomination and that Alex will never be hers, not like that.

She feels herself getting desperate, feels herself clutching frantically for anything she has. She can't let this slip through her fingers. This is her soulmate. Alex's life has painted itself on her skin since she was five years old. It's Alex. All her Revelations – the good and the bad – they were all about Alex.

And, fuck, Alex's were about her.

She holds up a hand and starts ticking off her fingers. "You're Alex," one finger.

"And you're from California," a second finger.

Her voice starts to shake. Alex has to believe her. She has to. She has to know and she has to believe her and she has to take the leap and try to love her. She has to. "And you're a huge fucking nerd and there is a god damned surfboard in that corner," a third finger. And I became a scientist because of you.

She blinks back her tears, just trying to get through this. "And I've seen you, you're such an overachiever and you're so desperate for approval, and I know you're afraid of failure." A fourth finger. And I've never been more afraid of a girl in my life.

"And you're a fucking doctor doctor special agent and tonight you fixed a satellite and you're just stupidly brilliant, Alex," a fifth finger. And I'm an abomination but I'm begging you to love me anyway.

"And you have the fucking weight of the world on your shoulders and you're constantly throwing yourself into danger like you're the only one who can save everyone and I fucking bet that you'd like to be able to take a weekend off, to be relieved for just a hot minute, to feel less responsible, Alex, I know that," a sixth finger. Please love me back. Please, be the one I get to love.

But Alex still hasn't said anything.

She still hasn't said a word.

Maggie has just told her – just told her everything – and she hasn't said anything.

And Maggie doesn't know if it's because she's a girl or because she's damaged or because she's an abomination or because she doesn't believe it or because maybe Alex is in love with Supergirl or because she's trying to figure out how to let Maggie down gently.

But she knows that it's killing her.

When she was fourteen she had desperately wanted her father to take her back. And tonight she desperately wants Alex to want her. Nothing else in her life has even come close.

She tries to control herself but she points a finger at Alex and it shakes.

"And when you were fifteen, I was seventeen, and the bond was open for me, and I felt anguish and grief and horrible guilt and I know that was when your dad died, I know it was."

Alex takes in a sharp breath and wraps her arms around herself, closing herself off even more, but doesn't say anything.

She still hasn't said a single fucking thing. Maggie is ripping herself open and Alex is just watching. And maybe it's masochistic and maybe it's a mistake, but Maggie has never been able to keep herself back from Alex.

So she takes every scrap of herself that she's ever hidden away and she holds it out to Alex, looking right into her eyes, letting herself cry and letting herself talk about the thing she never talks about.

When Alex was just twelve, Maggie was fourteen, and her life was destroyed and Alex felt Maggie's heartbreak inside her own body.

"And when you were twelve you felt something and I know, I know what it was. I was fourteen, and I bet it was Valentine's Day, wasn't it, when you felt it?"

Alex finally makes a little sound, and the tiny part of Maggie's brain that isn't on fire wonders if maybe she should have started with the hard data.

"And that was the worst day of my life—and I'll tell you about it, I swear, because I know it's you, Alex—but you felt it." Maggie grasps at her own chest, and says the most true thing she knows. "You felt me, Ally, I know you did."

And Alex, finally, finally, nods.

But she still doesn't say anything.

She doesn't say yes or no, she doesn't say I love you or get out, she doesn't say I'm straight or I want you anyway, she doesn't say you're an abomination or you deserve to be happy with me.

But she's started to cry.

Maggie's out of data. She's out of evidence. She's just handed Alex every inch of herself. She's just shown Alex all of the pieces of herself that Alex has always had, and Alex isn't saying a single word – she's just silently breathing and crying and holding onto herself.

Maggie can feel her entire body cracking apart – it's awful – but she gathers her courage and, one last time, asks it again.

"But I just…Ally I know it's you, but I need to hear you say it. Just say it, Alex, just tell me." Maggie closes her eyes, screwing them shut as tightly as she can while she asks it. "What was your animal, Alex?"

And she means do you think you could love me back and she means will I ever get to be happy with you and she means I've wanted you for my entire life, but she can't find any of those words. She just…god. Tonight she said "sharks" and Kara fell off her chair and now she needs Alex to say "snakes." She needs it. She needs them both to know.

And there's a long moment, and Maggie starts to completely shatter. But then Alex's voice, hoarse and cracking and raw, comes to her in a rough whisper. Maggie snaps her eyes open. Good or bad, she has to watch it happen.

"When I was young, I had this book of Shel Silverstein poems, and my dad would read them to me before bed."

Maggie chokes back a little sound because she had that book too and there's that poem about the snake in it, slowly swallowing up that kid. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to knit herself together, trying not to feel like she's the one being devoured.

"And my favorite," Alex says haltingly, "my favorite poem was…"

"Say it," Maggie begs. "I need to hear you say it."

"My favorite was about the boa constrictor."

And Maggie's spent her entire life thinking about the word "snakes" but fucking of course, even five-year-old Alex Danvers is more scientifically accurate than that.

And she knows, she's known for hours, but hearing Alex say it is a completely different thing.

Hearing Alex say out loud that the snake – the boa constrictor – that coiled and twisted around her arm on her fifth birthday was because of her, somehow both creates a million fissures in Maggie's body and also gathers all of her back together.

It's Alex.

Maggie drops her head into her hands, her entire body trembling with adrenaline and fear and a truckload of hope that's careening faster and faster towards its expiration date. She's still so fucking scared. She's so scared of this – of Alex, of herself, of what this all means. Because Alex said snakes – said boa constrictor – but she still hasn't said anything about being gay or about liking Maggie or about wanting Maggie.

Alex has been staring and stuttering but she hasn't been happy.

And god, Maggie just wants her so much.

"Jesus christ, Danvers," she whispers, pressing her hands into her eyes and trying to keep herself from breaking into thousands of tiny unwanted pieces. "Jesus fucking christ."

There's another long pause, and Maggie doesn't know if she's going to survive this. Just the thought of turning around and walking out of this apartment, with its soft grays and muted lighting, is enough to devastate her.

How is she supposed to live without being wanted by Alex Danvers? When, for their entire lives, they were destined for each other? Is she so fucking unloveable that even her soulmate can't want her back? Was this really what she was destined for? The most incredible person she's ever met, who can't even love her back?

She's completely destroyed and she's just a split second away from completely annihilation, when Alex says it, her voice cautious and tentative.

"Did you…did you know that boa constrictors can grow to be thirteen feet long?"

Maggie looks up at her, confused and terrified and broken and desperately in love.

"And that they—" her voice hitches a little, "they can swim? And they give birth to live babies? Like mammals?"

And she hasn't smiled and she hasn't said that she's gay and she hasn't said that Maggie is wantable and she hasn't said that she's happy, but she's sharing the science. And, even though she's an instant away from dissolving in agony, Maggie thinks that, just maybe, that's how Alex Danvers tells you that she's happy to be with you.

And Maggie still doesn't know if she's wanted back. But she knows that what Alex just did, how her tiny little voice shared the things that made her love boa constrictors when she was just five years old – how her voice had just cracked, how she's crying a little bit too, how fucking soft and sweet and nerdy she is – Maggie knows that she loves Alex even more now than she did twenty seconds ago.

Her brilliant, nerdy, bold, beautiful, devastatingly powerful, terrifyingly soft girl.

And that's so overwhelming that Maggie doesn't stop herself from saying the only thing she can. The only thing she can even think anymore.

"Fuck, Alex," she chokes out, trying to wipe off her tears, trying to control herself at all. "I've been waiting for you for so fucking long."

And Maggie has been brave all night, but, finally, finally, Alex is too.

She steps forward and she puts her hands on Maggie's body and she pulls Maggie into herself, tight and hard and possessive.

Maggie can't stop the sob that tears itself out of her.

She's never felt anything like this before. God, Alex is warm and firm and soft and she smells so good and she's holding Maggie like she has to, like if she lets go she'll completely disintegrate, and Maggie has never wanted to be held so tightly ever before in her entire life.

But Alex still hasn't said it.

She still doesn't know if Alex wants her back. Not for sure.

She still doesn't know if Alex cares that Maggie's an abomination or not.

She still doesn't know if Alex is hugging her because she loves her as a friend or if she could love her in the way Maggie wants her to. Hot, fierce, molten.

"Too long, Mags," Alex breathes into her ear, and Maggie doesn't understand.

But then Alex says it. "I've been waiting too long for you, too. But I'm here now."

And Maggie cracks open, just like she'd feared, but before she can shatter Alex is pouring into her, holding her steady, filling up all the places that have always ached with loneliness.

And Maggie just drops her head into Alex's neck and lets herself cry.

Because Alex has been waiting for her, too.


Maggie just stands there for a long time and lets Alex hold her and tries to convince herself, over and over, that Alex wants her back. That Alex wants her, like this. Hot and fierce and molten and positively singing.

That Alex is here now.

Alex is here now, is holding her so hard and softly kissing the side of her head like Maggie is exactly what she wants – exactly who she wants.

Alex is here now, and she's been waiting for Maggie just like Maggie's been waiting for her.

And Alex still hasn't said if she's gay or if she's happy, but she's here now and she's holding onto Maggie for dear life, and so, almost in slow motion, Maggie pries her arms off of her own body and does the most vulnerable thing she's done since she was fourteen years old.

She slips her own arms around Alex and holds her back, as tightly as she can.

And Alex just clutches her, just digs her fingers into Maggie's body, and Maggie doesn't know if Alex realizes it but she's whispering, her head bent down to press hard against Maggie's. "Maggie," she whispers, over and over again.

And then, accompanied by a tightening of her arms and a breath of warm air against Maggie's hair, "my Maggie."

And the iciest, most terrified parts of her drain out and vanish onto the floor because Alex wants her back.

Hot and molten and fierce and true.

Alex wants her back.

Alex is hers.

And god, is she Alex's.


After a couple of moments, Alex shifts her hold on Maggie, tightening her already superhuman grip, and she starts to talk. Maggie's head is still nestled in her neck, and Alex dips her own head down and to the side so she can press her mouth directly against Maggie's hair.

"I can't believe it's you," she whispers.

Maggie feels the vibrations of Alex's words on her own head, through her hair. Can feel the heat of Alex's mouth against her.

"I didn't know it could feel like this," Alex says, her voice full of wonder, her arms so strong.

Alex nuzzles herself impossibly closer, and she finally says the one thing that really and truly gets through to Maggie. "I can't believe I get to be yours."

Maggie shudders. Alex wants her. Alex wants to belong to her in exactly the way Maggie is desperate for.

Alex wants to belong to her.

Alex holds her even tighter. Alex wants to be hers. Maggie is a girl and is damaged and unloveable and might not deserve to be happy, but Alex wants to be hers.

Alex doesn't care that she's not a man.

Alex doesn't care about the sixth, about abomination.

Alex is her soulmate, and Alex wants to be with her.

And Maggie's pretty sure she's been clear about what she wants, but just in case, she lets herself say a truth so fundamental, so obviously true, that she'd barely seen it for years and years. Something like I can feel gravity and I breathe oxygen and get me the hell out of Nebraska.

"I've always been yours," Maggie whispers, her lips just brushing Alex's skin. "I've always."