The day Maggie comes home is also the day Alex is officially suspended.

It's not a loss so much as collateral damage, Alex decides; Lillian Luthor is (unfortunately) still wasting perfectly good oxygen but (fortunately) living in the closest you can (semi-legally) get to a cage. The lectures from J'onn and Kara about safety and how self preservation should definitely be an instinct by now don't make her feel as guilty as they usually would - not when the woman who stole so much from her is locked in a cage underground.

Whether or not the president wants J'onn to fire her is beside the point.

In fact, the only thing Alex can really bring herself to regret is that the DEO's moles inside Cadmus have been a lot quieter for a lot longer than they have before, and apparently the fish doesn't just rot from the head, because the whole damn organisation now only exists in the paperwork on Pam's desk. Cadmus, or what's left of it, has vanished, but Alex knows better than to get her hopes up this time.

Alex moves around the apartment, finding things to clean and put away while Maggie watches her pensively from the couch, her eyes tracking Alex's every movement as she wipes down the already clean surfaces and seemingly does anything except stand still. It's the first time they've actually been alone in months and more importantly, the first time neither of them are hopped up on morphine and sober enough for actual conversation. The tension in the room hangs heavy, ready to snap at any second as Alex waits – what for, she's not entirely sure.

Maggie clears her throat, and very clearly tries not to wince as she takes in Alex's stiff posture, and the way she keeps looking over at her every so often, watching her like that, with wide, nervous eyes and an oddly distant expression like she's one step removed from the room.

"Danvers?" Despite the softness of Maggie's voice, it makes her jump. Seconds pass as Alex realises that she's meant respond, meant to be able to respond, but the lump in her throat is kind of making that impossible, and the only thoughts she can piece together in her mind right now are of Maggie's blood staining her skin and the memory of the crushing pressure of water rising just above her neck. Alex knows without a doubt that Maggie can tell exactly where her mind is, but even so, actually being able to put that into words is a whole other challenge.

Alex swallows painfully, feeling Maggie's eyes burning into her skin, watching her with something in her eyes that Alex can't really identify as anything except concern, when she meets Maggie's gaze, and drops it just as fast. She shakes her head to dislodge the haze of delayed emotion, fiddling with the thermostat and wondering it's actually as cold in here as it feels.

"Yeah, Mags?"

"Stop holding your breath, babe."

How Maggie had picked up on that from across the kitchen Alex has no idea, but she's right, of course, and Alex tries to make herself breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Breathing is an involuntary biological process, she tells herself, it should be easy.

It's not.

Alex finds herself moving closer automatically, and Maggie's touch should be comforting, her hands warm and alive against Alex's skin, but even so she tries unsuccessfully to supress a shudder at the brush of hypersensitive skin.

"Did you take your meds?" Alex breathes, still standing stiffly in front of her.

"You watched me take them," Maggie reminds her, an unmistakable softness in her tone as she laces their fingers together in an attempt to draw a response out of her that isn't monosyllabic.

"Right."

Alex sighs deeply, staring hard at but not really noticing the pile of books on the coffee table.

"You want to tell me what happened out there?" Maggie asks, gently, letting Alex sit down beside her in her own time.

"How did you-"

"I saw your ribs, and Kara is terrible at keeping secrets."

Maggie's half-loving, half-exasperated expression draws a half-smile out of Alex at the memory of a thousand conversations like this one, a thousand arguments about Kara's glasses and the whole of National City knowing their secret. The smile leaves Alex's face almost as quickly as it had appeared, as Maggie rests her hand on Alex's thigh, trying to assure her that she's alive, that she's here.

And Alex can't pretend she doesn't jump a little at the touch, panic gripping her chest as Maggie moves away too quickly to not have noticed. Internally, Alex curses herself for not factoring in that Maggie picks up on everything.

"Sorry," Alex mutters, her shoulders tense, "it's nothing."

"Alex, you can tell me if-"

Her breath catches in her throat, whatever half-formed explanation she had ready evaporating at the troubled look in Maggie's eyes.

"You don't need to worry. I didn't… nothing happened. It's just-" Alex cuts herself off with a sigh, her jaw clenching.

She can't explain it, can't put into words how the suppressed urge is just – it's getting to her, the force of it sticking in the back of her mind, ever present, and it reminds her of the whole running water thing after the kidnapping.

Maggie takes a deep breath, not saying anything, and anxiety tightens its hold on her chest. Occasionally Alex finds herself almost missing the times when no one really paid attention, when she didn't have to explain - and this just might be one of them. Maggie's jaw is clenched when she looks at her, and a wave of guilt crashes over Alex at the worry that's so obviously eating away at her.

"But you wanted to?" It's phrased like a question, but it's clear from Maggie's careful tone that she already knows the answer.

Alex sighs, and tries not to recoil at being the subject of another conversation when Maggie's the one who-

-but they've talked about this before. Not a lot, but enough that Maggie knows more than Kara does, more than anyone, really. Physical scars are a lot harder to hide, after all, and it was inevitable that Maggie would find out either way.

"Kara was pretty much watching me 24/7," Alex offers, realising a second too late that Maggie definitely won't see that as a good thing considering she just made it sound like the only reason she hadn't-

-but Maggie exhales slowly, contemplatively, arching an eyebrow in a way that's somehow inconspicuous instead of patronising. She shifts carefully on the couch to face her, quickly shaking her head as if to dismiss the guilt etched into Alex's face.

"Apparently not well enough," she sighs.

"If you mean that I brought Luthor in, it was worth it," Alex insists, "and I don't need babysitting."

"I didn't just mean that. If Kara was on Supergirl duty, where was Lucy? J'onn?"

"I don't need a babysitter, okay?"

"You could have died, Alex," Maggie whispers, her voice strained.

The bubbling irritation flares into anger in Alex's chest, and she finds herself yelling, "you were dying! In my arms! You proposed and I had to sit there and just hold you while you bled out in the middle of a fucking street, Maggie. I couldn't do anything." The tears in Alex's eyes spill over, and she rubs at her eyes angrily with her fist, breathing hard, "don't tell me you wouldn't go after them if it were me."

"You're right, I would."

Maggie sounds so defeated, and Alex is reminded with a jolt that she does get it, doesunderstand the feeling of watching the person she loves an inch away from death and being completely helpless.

And by some twisted joke of the universe, Alex supposes, they're even now.

Alex pulls her as gently as she can into a hug, and Maggie relaxes into it but only slightly, and doesn't look at her. Alex can tell she wants to say something, that the silence is one of her thoughtful ones, and decides to wait it out, murmuring an 'I love you' into the crook of her neck.

"I proposed," Maggie murmurs.

With a deep breath, Alex looks at her, holding eye contact as she nods, slowly. It's completely ridiculous, and entirely probable - in Alex's opinion - that the proposal was merely a side-effect of the whole dying thing, of the inebriating rush of adrenaline and racing thoughts of oh-fuck-this-could-be-the-end.

Or, it could be something entirely different, judging by the sombre look in Maggie's eyes and the glimmer of hope that shines without a hint of regret, overshadowing the worry from before – and maybe Alex is overestimating her ability to judge what's coming just from Maggie's expression, but she hasn't been wrong before and it feels unlikely that now is the time to start.

"You did," Alex agrees, teetering dangerously on the line between serious and almost teasing.

Alex waits for the anxiety, but it never comes.

Maggie blushes, of all reactions, and does that little head tilt thing that she does when she's feeling mostly gay but also a little insecure. The slight nervousness is entirely unfounded, of course, and Alex slips her hand into Maggie's, squeezing gently.

"Did you mean it?"

Maggie looks at her with a tinge of surprise in her eyes that makes Alex's chest feel tight. She traces her fingers over Maggie's, sighing a little in relief when Maggie squeezes back. Her eyes light up with that happy spark that makes Alex ache, and she nods. "I meant it."

The tension between them is thankfully - and abruptly - gone, for the most part, leaving Alex feeling almost deflated with relief at the sight of Maggie's dimpled smile, all wide and adorable. Alex's hands come up of their own volition to cup Maggie's jaw, and she gets distracted with just how absurdly soft her skin is, and it's Maggie who has to stretch upwards a little for their lips to meet.

The little huff of annoyance against Alex's lips that she feels, rather than hears, is almost enough to make her stay put, but she slides off the couch, her lips still tingling from the kiss. Maggie's eyes open again slowly, with just enough time for the surprise to settle in when she realises that Alex is down on one knee.

"My answer will always be yes, Maggie," Alex breathes, smiling in an effort to shake off the heaviness reminding her that this could have ended, that it very nearly did. "But I refuse to do this one more time when the world is ending or one of us is – whatever. And I think that waiting for the right time is stupid, because you were right; life is short, and it's not perfect – but we should be happy while we can. So, Maggie Sawyer."

Alex swallows, blinking back happy tears. Maggie nods once, and Alex practically swoons under the incredibly warm look she's giving her.

"Maggie Sawyer… be my wife?"

The last bit comes out as really more of a squeak than anything else, and both of them are kind of laughing a little and kind of crying a lot as Alex grabs the rings from her pocket and reaches for Maggie's hand.

"Only if you'll be mine too," Maggie replies, and it's teasing but with an underlying promise that somehow still makes Alex's stomach flip.

And it's not as dramatic as before, with no crumbling balcony or almost-apocalypse, but Alex has had more than enough time with the undercover position to think about how she had wanted to go, and that just doesn't involve waiting around for a lighter mood. The main goals of minimal crying and hopefully a yes are only half achieved but it doesn't seem to matter as Maggie pulls her closer.

Alex kisses her then, long and sweet, pausing only for a moment to show Maggie the recently added inscription on the inside of the old rings.

Ride or die.

All Alex knows is that she believes it with everything that she is. She vows then and there to show Maggie exactly that every day for the rest of their lives.

She says as much, of course, and Maggie calls her a dork and kisses her until she's breathless and a gay mess.

Some things just don't change.

/

Kara walks in on Alex and Maggie the next morning when they're not entirely clothed, and barely notices because the first thing she sees is the rings. She squeals so loudly Alex is sure her ears are damaged beyond repair, and Kara makes them put shirts on before hugging them babbling excitedly about weddings until Alex actually has to kick her out so she can go and make sure a cruise ship in the Pacific doesn't sink.

Clearly, Supergirl has her priorities straight.

Lucy calls every five minutes to check on Maggie and flirt with both of them, so Maggie ends up telling her and J'onn on the phone and inviting everyone over for a game night that evening.

Alex doesn't drink scotch with everyone else, content with Maggie snuggled into her side as they watch their family argue over rent in Monopoly, and how it's just flat-out dangerous to use superspeed with the dice. J'onn rolls his eyes at them, and makes sure Alex is within earshot when he pulls Maggie aside to give his blessing – to both of them, he makes sure to say, because Maggie is just as much his Earth daughter as Alex is.

For the first time in almost twenty years – Maggie tells her later, as they get ready for bed – she feels like someone's daughter, and J'onn calls her as much and kisses her forehead when they give him an invite to the wedding in person. It's the first time Maggie actually cries in front of anyone except Alex, and it doesn't escape Alex's attention that Winn and Lucy look a little tearful too. She can't blame them, after all.

Eliza Danvers arrives a week later, supposedly to plan an engagement party and to support Alex through her investigation, but she and Maggie seem to have hatched a plan to teach Alex to cook, much to her dismay.

They go through seven smoke alarms in a weekend.

Maggie streaks flour across Alex's cheek and neither of them see Eliza taking a photo of the moment and saving it as her lockscreen. Alex only finds out a month later when it magically appears framed and on their kitchen wall next to a very smug Kara.

/

The happy bubble Alex finds herself in is only really disrupted by, unsurprisingly, Cadmus.

Or more accurately, its demise.

Lillian Luthor survives, and is found guilty on multiple charges of treason, terrorism, false imprisonment and murder just to name a few. Alex is incredibly glad they decide to keep her alive when the president locks her in a newly-built maximum security facility that's supposed to hold five inmates but really it's only her.

But this is real life, and there are no fairy tale happy endings, and Alex finds herself still on probation and doing paperwork as co-director of the city base when they find a file of medical notes and case files all labelled with the name 'Jeremiah Danvers'.

And she realises at two in the morning in the middle of a night shift that he isn't coming home.

That if he ever did, she wouldn't know him as her father. As the man who painted with her and sang and taught her to surf and how to be a sister to Kara, and-

-Maggie and Kara find her hours later beating the hell out of a heavy bag in the basement, drunk out of her mind and begging them not to call Eliza until she's sober so she can finally be enough.

It prompts a trip to Midvale, and for the first time, Alex lets them in so they can grieve.

Time helps, and Alex teaches Maggie to surf that summer, grateful for the distraction as Kara splashes them from the shore and Eliza reads a book nearby. They make it to a high school reunion, and no one is surprised when Alex turns up holding Maggie's hand, both of them wearing engagement rings.

It almost seems perfect.

/

Forever, as it turns out the second time, really does mean forever.

Maggie is hers. After four years, and a thousand near-death experiences, she's hers.

Alex paces the room in her suit, thankful that Kara has finally stopped her desperate attempts to get you to look at wedding dresses on the big day. J'onn is somewhere no one will tell her about with Maggie, and Eliza is fixing her hair for what feels like the millionth time that morning.

"Alex?" she calls, like she's been trying to get her attention. The look on her face is warm and excited, and she unconsciously re-positions the collar of Alex's shirt.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I'm so proud of you."

It's the first of many times that day that Alex ruins her eye makeup.

Maggie surprises her, having refused to say what she was wearing beforehand, in a white dress that's equally gorgeous and unexpected. The way she looks at her from across the room – it's like something out of Kara's favourite rom-coms where everyone else just fades away – with those dimples and god, that smile, the one that grounds her and makes her feel like nothing else matters.

In that moment, Alex feels like she finally understands what it means to love someone with every fibre of her being. She's loved before, of course, but never like this, never so fully, so unconditionally and immeasurably. Maggie says 'I do', looking up at Alex like she's the luckiest person in the multiverse.

Which is ridiculous, Alex tells her later, in bed, because that person is her.

Of course, Maggie decides that it's appropriate to lean in and whisper ride or die in her ear, leaving her a gay mess in front of all their friends and family just as she had on that crime scene all those years ago. And that's not mentioning the fact that Lucy wolf-whistled at the both of them when they kissed, which in hindsight, Alex definitely should have expected.

That their wedding party is crashed by another fifth-dimensional being, because of course it is, is another story, and Maggie refuses to tell anyone how she kept a handgun in her wedding dress.

/

It's a rare occasion where both of them have the day off one morning – Maggie does run her own precinct now, after all - and Maggie flicks through channels on the TV, sometimes smirking at you and commenting on the medical inaccuracies in whatever show is playing on the screen. Alex laughs with her from where she's going through old clothes in the bedroom - she's taught her well.

Alex walks past with a load of laundry in her arms, throwing a shirt with weirdly accurate aim into the pile on the floor as Maggie watches in amusement before turning back to the TV.

Something falls out of the pocket of an old pair of jeans – probably Maggie's, judging from the size - not that either of them really know which clothes belong to who anymore. Alex picks it up, unfolding the faded receipt and reading the list.

It hits her after a moment of confusion that it's the receipt from that day in the restaurant all those years ago, the five rules they'd written down and attempted to stick to for all of two weeks.

And maybe in other universes other Maggies and other Alexes are married, and maybe they aren't. Maybe they want kids, and maybe they don't. Maybe they don't lead crazy lives and maybe they would want to give all that up.

All Alex knows is that in this universe, in this life, she chooses this.

"Hey, babe?"

Alex hands it to her wife, which, wow, it's still so amazing to call her that, and Maggie just gives her one of those soft smiles, putting it down on the coffee table and pulling her into a kiss.

"Some rules are made to be broken, Danvers."