Alex tightened the straps on the unfamiliar uniform. It was… too tight. Too constricting. Too much.
But hers now, whether she wanted it or not.
A new leader had to be chosen before the old could be let go. Or, that was the ruling. She supposed she understood, as uncomfortable as it made her. Letting go would be hard enough, without something else to hold on to – some hope that there was still someone willing and able to lead them all out of this hell. Lead them home.
Unfortunately for her, she was the one they decided to hold onto.
The vote hadn't even been that close.
"Ma?" Ky's boots clanged as she jumped the lip of their room, rather than stepping over like the civilized person she wasn't. "You ready?"
"Almost." There was no mirror in their quarters, but she felt off. Running a hand through her waxed hair, she was careful not to move the strap of her eye-patch.
"You look weird," Ky said with all the tact of her thirteen years, tilting her head.
But Alex nodded, tugging at the high collar. "I know right?" The formal wear rarely got used outside of diplomatic assignments, and it felt even more foreign now.
"Never thought I'd see a Captain's badge on you," she shrugged, hopping clear over the double bed. She pulled out her own 'formal' attire, frowning at the sight. "Plus, you always look super awkward in fancy stuff."
Alex smirked, leaning against the wall as she watched her kid with her one eye. "You saying I don't clean up nice?"
"I can't picture you at, like, nice places."
"I'll have you know; I rock a dress and heals."
"What?" Ky spun around; eyes wide. "You'd wear a dress?"
Alex smirked, thinking back to the last time she'd decked herself out – date night with Lucy and Maggie which turned into Alex abandoning her heels in an alley to chase down a subject while her partners pulled the car around to cut him off.
Choosing not to answer, she jerked her head at the outfit hanging from her kid's fingers. "Get dressed – the lights almost over."
"Yeah, yeah," but she started to get ready, leaving Alex to tug at the hem of her stiff, long sleeved uniform. It was all black, except the silver of her Captain's Badge. In typical space attire, it was armored, but lighter than her actual battle gear. The chest and back plates were hard, but the arms thinner fabric – the only saving grace was that this event didn't call for the cape. She didn't need that kinda opulence today.
For a moment, she watched her kid struggle into her outfit – she'd about grown out of it. They'd have to pick up something new at the next port.
"Hey, how are you doing? With everything?"
Ky didn't even pause, shrugging as she tucked in her shirt. "Okay I guess."
"I know it's been a hectic few days, I'm sorry I haven't been around much."
Her daughter half smiled, tugging her boots back on after her pants change. She only owned the one pair. "Oh, I'll never forgive you. How dare you be busy. Leaving your favorite daughter to fend for herself on a ship packed fulla weird aunts and uncles who would check my temperature daily if you asked them."
"Hush," Alex chuckled, stepping forward to straighten her collar. "So, you're okay then?"
Another shrug, but not enough to displace her mother's hands on her shoulders. "I'm a little sad – I knew Gabriella from the kitchens. And it was scary, you know? That you got hurt so bad again."
Alex smiled sadly, putting a hand to her cheek, thumb stroking under her eyes. Identical to hers – a change that never failed to warm her heart. Even now, when her daughters left eye was the only copy left. "I'm okay now, though."
And she was. The painkillers they had her on made the burning in her eye socket manageable, and Dryl was already working on a prosthetic. The only time it was unbearable was in the mid-afternoon – after the medication wore off before she could take more – when she hid in Freyer's quarters until it dulled. Until she could face everyone – her crew. The people she was now responsible for.
The people waiting for her in the loading dock.
"Alright," Alex took a step back, pushing Ky's head away just to make her laugh a little. Just to break the tension. "We better get going."
She couldn't be late to her predecessor's funeral.
Lucy sat on the edge of the bed, cup of coffee pressed between her hands, watching her partners pack. Trying to ignore the guilty gnawing feeling in her stomach.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come?" Lucy asked for the umpteenth time.
"You know I want you to come Luce," Alex answered, zipping up her suit and turning to face her partner. "I just don't think it'll help the day go any smoother."
Frowning, she dropped her eyes to the liquid in her hands, swirling the remains. "I'm sorry."
"Hey," fingers tipped her jaw, bringing their gazes together. Alex smiled around the deep shadows under her eyes. She hadn't slept through a night since the shooting. "It's not your fault, okay?"
Twisting her lips, the director conceded with a nod.
"Don't trust me with our girl, Lane?" Maggie's disembodied voice from the bathroom asked.
She rolled her eyes but called back, "your shared catchphrase is literally 'ride or die,' Sawyer! Not exactly comforting."
Alex chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before returning to the bags. They were only going for a night. Eliza had steadfastly refused to answer calls from anyone but Kara, so they'd decided to book a hotel, necessitating slightly more luggage.
"You're just jealous," Maggie teased, tossing Alex a bag of toiletries to pack in their shared duffel.
"Of your catchphrase? Yeah, no," she put her mug aside, reaching out to tug Maggie to stand between her legs. She was wearing some of Alex's flannel, softened with age. "I think there are enough nerds in this relationship, thank you."
"Hey!"
But Lucy and Maggie were busy sharing a smirk. Dropping to a crouch, Maggie's hands splayed on her thighs. "What's your plan tonight?"
A shrug, fingers drifting to strands of the detective's hair. "Ky decided what she wants to do?"
Alex, soft eyes watching her partners intimacy, just shrugged. "Not yet."
Kind enough to turn her head, Lucy shouted out their open bedroom door. "Ky!" Maggie still winced.
"What?" A distant voice called back. Lucy smirked, turning back to Maggie without responding. A beat, and then a louder, "what?"
"You're mean," Maggie murmured, catching the hand on her cheek and pressing a kiss to the upturned wrist.
"Lucy?" some muttering which barely traveled through the house. Then Ky was phasing directly through the wall which connected to the hallway. "Oh my god, what is it?"
Lucy just grinned up at the irritated teenager. "What's your plan tonight?"
"Oh, you know." Even after two years, Lucy was still astounded by how easily the girl shifted from disgruntled to awkward. She scratched at her arm, eyes shifting away from the couple by the bed. Avoided Alex altogether. "Just… whatever works for you guys."
Alex shared a look with Lucy, who frowned a little.
It was made immediately clear that Ky would not be joining them to Midvale. She'd never met Jeremiah in anything but a traumatic scenario and her complicated feelings about her grandfather shouldn't be unpacked at his funeral. And Alex didn't need her kid exposed to her own complicated feelings.
And whatever it was Eliza was going to do.
So, she was staying back. At sixteen she was given the freedom to choose where to spend her Saturday night.
Maggie, rather than remaining at the awkward vantage point, finally stood and sat next to Lucy, hand finding the small of her back as she looked up at the teenager. "What's up, KD?"
"Nothing." Ky wrinkled her nose, eyes still examining the far window. "I'm fine. Totally normal."
"Oooookay," Alex started, pushing off the wardrobe to approach. "What are you overthinking?"
"Pffft," Ky waved a hand in her mother's direction. "No idea what you're talking about. I don't overthink."
"Right," Alex nodded seriously, dipping her head to try catch Ky's eye. "Course not. So, what're your plans tonight?"
Then anxious eyes were on Lucy, Ky rocking on her heal.
"Ky," Lucy started, leaning back into Maggie's fingers under her pajama shirt. "Are you worried about me?"
"What? No," but the shaking head was a little too vigorous, hands tugging sleeves. "Never. You're like – a grown person. And a badass. But like, ya know, I don't wanna leave you alone… but like, you obviously don't need me or anything-"
"Ky," she worked hard to keep endearment off her face, not wanting the overthinking teenager to misinterpret. "You can do whatever you want tonight, I'm good, promise."
Lucy was a little startled to see her own courtroom expression looking back at her – the scrutinizing glint that was always effective on cross-examination. Looking for the lie. "Are you sure?"
Sighing, Lucy finally stood, Alex stepping aside so she could grip her shoulders. She shook her gently, watching the serious shake off her face a little, lips curling at the corners. "Your job is to have a good Saturday night, alright? Not look after my grown ass." They'd been working on this – the internalized responsibility growing up on a spaceship where everyone had to work to survive – where Ky had to support her family more than any kid should ever have to. Working on letting Ky just be a teenager. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself for a night."
A spark of Ky's normal sharp levity entered her eyes. "I have literally zero evidence of such a claim."
"Oi," Lucy shoved a hand against her head, pushing her away even as she laughed. "I'm a fully functional adult."
She grinned properly now. "You burnt water last week."
Scandalized eyes tracked Ky as she took a retreating step back. "That was not my fault!"
"Oh yeah?" Ky's arched eyebrow belonged on Alex's face – Lucy felt something in her heart expand. "Who's was it then?"
Making her smirk just this side of inappropriate, she noted the exact moment the teenager realized her mistake. Face wrinkling, she took a hasty step back phasing right back through the wall. "Coward!" Lucy shouted.
"I'll spend the night with Ella!" the muffled response came, followed by the closing of a bedroom door.
"You trying to scar my kid, Lane?" Alex asked, smile as genuine as it had been since the shooting.
"Your kid?" Lucy raised an eyebrow, stepping into the taller woman's space. "And yet when she crashed the car last month you called her 'my spawn'."
"Yeah well," Alex pressed her forehead to the other woman's, eyes closing at the warm proximity. Letting the tightness in her chest unravel an inch. Let herself breath for a moment. "You taught her to drive – that's on you."
Lucy's chuckle filled the space, only dampened by the knowledge that in twenty minutes she was going to have to walk her partners to the front door and trust them to look after each other.
Even though, in her gut, she just knew that no amount of looking out for each other was going to be enough.
Maggie's grip on the steering wheel was white knuckled. The only reason she was driving was because Kara was a menace on the road and Alex was only loosely tied to reality. But Maggie was struggling with her own spiraling thoughts.
The first time she went on this drive, it was for another funeral.
Alex's.
Swallowing hard, she reached over, scratching at the fabric of Alex's jeans. Needing that connection. That reminder.
She's here. She's safe.
She. Came. Home.
She'd been staring out the window for the entire drive, forehead resting on the glass. Mind… drifting. But the feel of Maggie's fingers had her looking over with a fraction of a smile. Tangling their fingers together, Alex brought her fingers to her lips, watching how a little of the tension drained from Maggie at the gesture.
"It's gonna be okay," she murmured, placing their joined hands back on her lap.
"I think that's my line, Danvers."
Alex just shrugged. "Thank you for coming."
Maggie spared her a quick glance, tightening her grip around her fingers. "I'm always in your corner," she glanced at the rearview mirror. "Yours too, LD."
Kara's smile lacked its usual intensity, but it was something. An improvement.
Noting the Welcome to Midvale! sign, Maggie shifted in her seat. "You sure you want us to drop you at Eliza's, Kar?"
A pause, where Maggie knew the girl of steel was biting back her real answer – burying the part of her that wanted her sisters close – letting the part that needed to look after Eliza win.
"I'm sure," she answered, voice this side of shaky. The pinch of her eyebrows and cast of her eyes also have her away. "But, ah, could you guys… ya know, stay close? I mean… during?"
"I got your back, Kara," Maggie assured, smothering the swell of anger in her chest.
Eliza had… made it impossible for Alex to engage with her. Refused any and all phone calls, texts. Leaving Kara to do most of the coordinating – the go between for her foster mother and sister. A horrible, sticky, awkward position, which had Kara wringing her hands and biting her lip.
But Maggie knew it was killing her. Both of them.
And she knew it boded poorly for the rest of the day.
But she still dropped Kara off – at the bottom of the drive – parking the car so that she could receive hugs from both her sisters. Alex held on for an extra second. Maggie missed whatever it was that she murmured in the Kryptonian's ears, but Kara was nodding and almost smiling when she pulled away.
Which left Alex and Maggie alone in their hotel room – the latter watching the former just stare into her reflection. She kept running her fingers along the edges of her blazer. A look of intensity that was familiar to Captain Danvers, not Alex.
Maggie leaned a shoulder on the jam of the bathroom door, arms crossed, eyes soft. "What's on your mind?"
A pause, where Alex didn't look away from the mirror. When she spoke, it was as if from far away. "I shouldn't have come."
Another pause, where the detective squinted at her partner. Alex had helped every step of the way with the planning – even though it hurt – even though it killed – even though guilt plagued nightmares haunted her every night. She spent hours at Kara's; picking the casket and speaking to the priest, organizing program printing. She spent hours at Kara's planning her father's second funeral with the memory of the first lingering in the back of her mind. The echo of the Glock echoing right behind it.
But when Kara had asked if she was coming… Laying in her bed after a long night of shared takeout and horrible tasks. With scared wet eyes. Alex really had no other choice.
She would always protect her sister.
But right now, she didn't feel like being there was doing anyone any good.
"You have every right to be here."
She titled her head towards Maggie but didn't meet her eyes. "I'm the reason there even is a funeral."
Maggie dropped her hands, taking a half step towards her. "Al…"
"No, Mags, I'm right," she turned, resting her hip on the counter and pressing her bad fist against the sink – the prosthetic visibly trembling. "We can tiptoe around it all we like, but I killed him. I'm the reason we're here. And my mom…" she closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddered, breath. "My mom obviously doesn't want me here. So, maybe… maybe I shoulda stayed away."
Maggie dipping her head to make sure her partner met her eyes, approaching cautiously. "Alex," she caught the corner of her jaw, meeting her gaze. "If you don't want to go, I'll back you. We can camp out here, order takeout, and wait for Kara to give us the all clear. But…"
"You think I should go."
She tilted her head, free hand grazing her clenched fist. Knowing that the nerves in her arm had been firing violent for days – worse since this morning. "I think that if we stay here you are going to worry about Kara so much you'll end up going anyway."
Which… fair. But she didn't have to call her out like that.
"I'm scared." A murmur so soft, so genuine, that it defied every aspect of the reputation Captain andAgent Danvers inspired. But it's this tenderness, the human part of her, that Alex Danvers indulged with a select few. So, she allowed herself to be vulnerable in this moment, with Maggie and her soft eyes and even softer touch – gently unwinding her clenched fist.
The detective wished she could offer some platitude – a promise that everything would be okay. That this would be hard, and painful, but they would get through.
Her gut knew better.
But Alex got her moment – to stand with one of the loves of her life, in a badly lit hotel bathroom. Got to press her forehead against Maggie's and breath in her unique perfume. Got to draw comfort from the familiar. Got to… breath for another minute.
Before she had her heart ripped from her chest.
"Alright, I'm off!"
"You kids have fun," Lucy called back, flicking between channels. The Bachelor didn't have the same appeal without Maggie's running commentary, and she'd promised to finish Ninja Warrior with Alex.
"You know Ella is like, fifty years older than you, yeah?" Ky asked, leaning her shoulder against the archway into the living room.
"Between the two of you, you're the responsible party," Lucy muttered, squinting at the program – whatever happened to brain rotting reality TV? But no, there can be seven iterations of NCIS.
"Gee, thanks."
"See? You knew that wasn't a compliment."
Rolling her eyes, Ky watched the older woman try and distract herself. She'd place good money on her itching to go to work – fill her time and mind with tasks rather than sit in her own anxiety. She'd bet the moment she left Lucy'd be slipping into her uniform and working her 7th shift this week.
And Ky got it. She'd been anxious and… a little scared since she'd come home that day. After Jeremiah.
She'd seen her mom in the aftermath of many tragedies. Seen her after a close friend's autopsy; at the funeral of crew mates; limping on board after weeks of captivity; inches from death on a hospital bed. But she'd never seen her mom quite like that. She'd been… unsteady. Caught between emotions – relief and agony waring on her face. So, Ky'd been anxious – worried about her family who were processing a complicated loss that she (for once) didn't share or really understand.
But she had Ella, who had promised pizza and video games and wouldn't press her to talk about her grandfather's funeral or her mother's confusing pain.
Lucy, right now, didn't have anybody. So, just like the rest of her parental unit, the director would throw herself into work.
Which is why Ky meddled.
Alex would be so proud.
The knock at the door had Ky perking up and Lucy narrowing suspicious eyes. "What did you do?"
"What, me?" Ky placed a hand on her chest, backing into the entry space as she spoke.
"Ky?"
"I can't believe you don't trust me!" she lamented with a grin, still backing up, hand catching the front door's handle. "The betrayal!"
"You and Kara are definitely related," Lucy muttered, switching off the TV and preparing for whatever fresh hell the youngest Danvers had in store for her.
"Lena! Hey," Ky answered, not looking away from Lucy with an absolutely unapologetic smile. "Come in, come in, Lucy's happy to see you!"
Perfectly manicured eyebrows arched, hesitating at the threshold, looking between the family.
But Lucy's eyes remained fixed on the teenager. "You're a little shit."
"A sarcastic little shit, and you love me." And just like that, just like every time Ky repeated the words Lucy'd used to first tell her they were family, the director softened. Smile pulling at her lips even as her jaw flexed to try and hide it.
"Get out of here you menace," she finally conceded, waving Lena in. "The woman's got the good scotch and we aren't allowed to enjoy it with minors present."
Ky rolled her eyes but did hop forward to press a kiss to Lucy cheek before leaving. As she brushed past Lena she gave her a wink, closing the door behind her.
"I take it you were unaware of our plans this evening?" she asked, placing the bottle on the side table to remove her blazer.
"Not a clue," she pushed off the couch, heading into the kitchen for some glasses. "How'd she convince you I did?"
Lena pulled her phone out of her purse, handing it over once glasses were placed on the counter.
Lucy frowned at the string of messages – all under her contact. Correctly so, if the preceding, legitimate messages about DEO L-Corp consultations were anything to go by. "Just… how?"
Lena smirked at the woman who essentially operated a secret government black sight and let her sixteen-year-old daughter hack her primary device. "She cloned your phone."
"Winn secures our communications."
Lena unscrewed the scotch, pouring Lucy a couple of fingers. "I've learnt stop questioning the Exodus aliens' capabilities."
"Alex included?"
"Alex predominantly."
Chuckling, Lucy replaced the phone with the glass. Fuck, Little Luthor always brought the good stuff. And they didn't keep anything stronger than beer in the house anymore, so this was a downright treat.
"How'r you doing by the way?" Lucy asked, leading them back to the couch.
"I believe I'm supposed to be asking you that." But the director just shrugged, sitting with her back against the arm and giving her friend full attention. "What makes you think I'm anything but fine?"
The smallest of smiles. "Maggie."
"Ah," Lena nodded, running a thumb along the ridge of her glass. "Of course."
The silence dragged for a minute, Lena staring into her glass, Lucy staring at her. Out of the triad, she was the most likely to respect emotional walls. Meanwhile, Maggie and Alex were prone to taking a jackhammer to them.
"I worry about them."
"Who?"
Lena offered an unimpressed look but elaborated. "Kara, Alex."
Lucy nodded sagely, swirling her glass. "The Danvers sisters do inspire a certain anxiety."
"Try blind panic."
Lucy chuckled, nodding. "Fair." But Lena's smile dipped, a more serious edge finding home in her eyes.
"Do you-" and then she shook her head, just barely. But Lucy waited – patient as ever. Took another sip. "Do you ever get used to it?"
"Used to what, exactly?"
A smile tugged at the CEO's lips, but it wasn't entirely happy. "Used to loving indestructible… breakable women?"
It was a genuine question, so Lucy gave it genuine thought.
Thought about Alex. Thought about the weekend they spent watching Exodus logs – watching Alex survive impossible, horrific odds. Thought about the nightmares that gripped her, and the phantom pain that lingered around her arm, her eye. Thought about the scars which marred her body – each a sign of her suffering. Her surviving. Thought about her choosing between her father and her brother, crumbling in the aftermath, and agreeing to go to the funeral anyway. Thought about how she still got up every single morning, and committed herself to her family, her friends, to the alien community of which she felt so irreparable responsible for. Even when other people, most people, would never be able to face another day.
And Lucy thought about Kara. Thought about her crushing a car in the aftermath of the Exodus. Thought about the girl of steel telling her she was broken. Thought about how, less than six months later, she got up and celebrated Hanukkah, even though it wasn't her religion. Even though it hurt. Thought about how she still got up every single morning, and committed herself to her family, her friends, and the population of earth of which she felt so irreparable responsible for. Even when other people, most people, would never be able to face another day.
She thought about the fear that swelled in her throat at every mission. At every mishap. At every tear and shout and nightmare – for both- all the Danvers girls.
"No, I don't think you do." A harsh exhale, almost a laugh, escaped the CEO as she nodded. Lucy Lane was many things; a liar was not one of them. "But, personally, I think it's still worth it."
Because Kara's hugs made her feel at home. And Alex's smile set her heart on fire.
Because the Danvers Sisters should come with a warning – Irresistibly lovable, equally reckless: Proceed with caution.
"I love her."
"I know."
"I hate that I can't be there."
"I know."
"I hate that my mother is the reason they lost their father," Kara's second father.
"I know that too," a pause. Lucy drained her glass and leaned forward. "You feel guilty."
A smirk, self-deprecation lingering in the corners. "I know."
Rolling her eyes, the director pushed on. "Well, you shouldn't. You aren't responsible for your family."
"Being a Luthor is a life-sentence."
A pause.
"I sent Alex and J'onn to a Cadmus lab for treason."
Lena choked on her scotch, violently. Coughing, she turned wide eyes back to the Director "What?"
"Being a Lane may not have the same headline, Luthor, but trust me," she smirked. "I understand a family legacy. So no, you shouldn't feel guilty. And yes, we are going to sit in this apartment and get drunk enough that we forget our girlfriends are attending possible the most confusing funeral ever. And tomorrow, we are going to be there for them when everything inevitably goes to hell. That work for you?"
Lena just blinked at the other woman – the woman she'd been friends with for years now. The woman who would, one day, be her sister-in-law (Rao willing). And suddenly, inexplicably, felt better.
If they couldn't be with their girls, then at least they could be with each other.
The Midvale cemetery was exactly as she remembered it. Church sitting high, a small front lawn trying to soften the imposing edges of the building. Failing.
She'd hated this church since she was fourteen. Since her mother forced her into an black dress and they buried an empty grave – closure. That's what her mother had called it. An opportunity to say goodbye to her father.
Which was ironic, because it seemed like Eliza was the only one who didn't let go. The day after the funeral, dress clothes still hanging on bathroom hooks, her mother had gone into the lab. Left a note, which Alex still recalled to this day.
"Emergency at work – don't wait up. Make sure Kara isn't late to her tutor and eats dinner. Please don't order in again. Love you."
The n on the 'again' had a larger ink stain at its finish, as if Eliza'd paused at the end of a sentence. Unsure how to complete it.
Dragged back into memories of stiff clothing and overwhelming confusion, Alex hesitated in the car, feeling Maggie's hand twitch over her thigh.
"I need to find a park," she murmured, watching Alex watch the church. "Do you want to get out or wait with me?"
Because small spaces were still a thing. Just like sudden sounds. Just like darkness.
But they were working on it. And Alex was generally pretty good at acknowledging her own needs.
"I'll get out," she muttered, eyes still locked on the pillars of the church. The same church she'd shuffled into at fourteen, in a dress which felt like someone else's skin and clutching Kara's shaking hand in case she wandered off. "See you inside?"
Maggie smiled, but not really, at the edges of vulnerability in her tone. "I'll just be a minute, Danvers."
Nodding, Alex opened the door.
The grass sank under her boots. There'd been a lot of rain this winter and the church grounds were suffering for it.
The church was exactly as she remembered it. Just as imposing. Just as… foreign.
She suddenly wished she'd stayed with Maggie. Even though the car felt too small – too suffocating – too much like the walls of the Pit to make her feel at all settled. Not that she felt settled out here.
She was halfway across the lawn when it started.
She chalked her lack of focus up to the fact that she was operating on autopilot.
Because she hadn't been this surprised at an assault since her first year of basic.
Eliza descended like a raging storm – eyes just as wild as she crashed down upon her eldest daughter.
"You!" her voice cracked in the middle, just enough to break Alex's heart.
Just enough that she didn't defend herself.
Pounding on her daughter's chest – rage and grief boiling in her blood. Blinding her.
Each blow was weaker than the last, Eliza dissolving with each second. Alex was made of iron, but every smack of her mother's fist may as well have been to raw flesh. It cracked through her, shredding her chest and leaving her vulnerable and bleeding.
"Mom-"
"No!" Her voice was so shrill, it rang in Alex's ears. Kara was striding over. "You killed him! You- you- you murdered my husband!"
Another hit rained down on her chest, but the tears streaking down her mother's face was much harder than any physical blow. "Mom," she tried, finally catching flailing fists. The older woman seemed to sag under the constrains for a moment. She could feel her mother's hands trembling under hers – her whole body was quaking. "Mom, I'm-" but the frail words set her mother alight again. Fire washed away pain and she struggled under her daughter's hands.
"How dare you come here," she spat, acid on her tongue. Agony in her eyes. "How dare you show your face you-" she managed to rip her hands away from her daughters too gentle hold. The force of her fist against her chest had her taking an involuntary step back. "You killed him! You killed your father! We could have – you could have saved him!"
Kara's arm wrapped around her foster mothers' waist as gently as she could.
She pulled Eliza away her sister, even as she resisted. Hands dragging through air as she fought to get back to her daughter – fought to devastate her daughter. She didn't seem aware of Kara's hold, still spitting violent betrayed words.
"Eliza- Eliza," Kara tugged her around, pulling the rapidly dissolving woman against her chest. But her eyes were set on Alex, who looked like she'd been ripped open. Looked like she'd been broken.
But she couldn't go to her sister. Couldn't let go of their mother, who was shuddering and sobbing into her shoulder. Just had to watch as Maggie finally got to them, finally got to her sister and tugged her away from the scene, away from the woman who she loved and who had just broken her into a thousand, sharp pieces.
Had to listen as Maggie tried to coax Alex around, away. Had to watch as she pressed her hands to either side of her sister's jaw, dragging their eyes together.
"Hey, Al, Alex," Maggie whispered up, ignoring the unfolding scene in her peripheries. Eyes set on her girlfriends broken eyes. "You're okay," a lie. "Just breath," an impossibility.
But Alex wasn't crying. Her eyes were dry, her teeth clenched hard enough to ache. She felt like she'd been flayed – like her mother's pain and fury and betrayal had stripped her open. Torn out her insides and left her empty and exposed.
"Al, sweetie, what do you need?" Maggie's eyes were hard, determined. But her hands were soft, fingers gentle against the underside of her jaw.
"I need you to look after Kara." She was surprised by how steady her voice was. But she supposed all her emotions had been dragged from her when her mother's murderous eyes set on her.
"Alex…" her jaw worked, one hand slipping into the loose hair at the side of her head.
"I- I have to go," Alex exhaled once. Sharp. "And I need someone to look after Kara – I need- I need youto look after Kara."
Because she didn't trust anyone else with their sister. Winn, James, J'onn… they were amazing men. But she didn't trust anyone with their sister, except Lucy and Maggie. So, Maggie had to stay. Someone had to keep her sister safe during this. Someone had to hold her baby sister up during her second father's second funeral.
And if Alex couldn't, then Maggie would have to.
But Maggie looked like she would rather swallow glass then take even a single step away from her girlfriend. After watching Eliza devastate her on the lawn of a church she didn't want to go in, before a funeral she didn't want to attend. Watched Alex let a mother who she'd never felt she could make proud tear her apart over something she hated herself enough for. Hated herself enough for the both of them.
"Please," a tremor finally entered her voice and Alex bit her lip against tears, looking away from her partners too gentle eyes. "Please Mags, I need Kara to be looked after. I- I need you to look after our sister, okay?"
Maggie eyes finally slipped away, taking in how Kara hadn't moved, Eliza still crumbling in her arms. The Kryptonian's eyes were set on them, even as she ran a hand over her foster mother's spine, even while she murmured soft soothing nonsense to the woman she didn't want to be comforting.
Maggie knew Kara – knew her sister. Knew that she would hold Eliza up, because that was what she had to doright now. Would hold her up and bury everything else while she looked after another. Knew that she needed her.
But Alex needed her more.
But what Alex needed was for Kara to be safe.
So, Maggie finally nodded, fingers digging in just a little against Alex's skin. Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with her girlfriend again. "Okay, okay," she slipped her hands down, gripping the lapels of her jacket. The black on black on black suit really did look good on her. "I got Kara, promise."
She placed one hand back on Alex's cheek, squinting. "Promise to be safe until I get back?"
Alex nodded, once, before leaning down, pressing their foreheads together. "Promise," she breathed into the space between them.
J'onn J'onzz had lost a great many things.
A world.
A culture.
A people.
A wife. Daughters. Family.
And then Jeremiah Danvers, dying in his arms, begged him to take care of his girls.
So, he found Alex. And then Kara found him. And together, they helped him build a life. The DEO gave him a purpose, but they gave him a reason. Filled his once empty world with love and friendship and family.
Somewhere along the way, Alex and Kara Danvers became his.
And then Jeremiah Danvers put his daughter on a ship. Stranded her on the other side of the universe. Allowed his fear and pain and trauma to cloud everything so he saw no other way out but to create more devastation. And J'onn lost Alex.
And he still hasn't forgiven himself.
Not for the sound of Alex's last, desperate words over the screaming of the Exodus leaving the atmosphere: "No, listen! Look after them, okay? I… I got Lyra. And I'll keep my promise. I'll bring her home. Just, look after each other okay? I love-"
Not for the sight of Kara, crumbled, staring at the hands that had failed to drag the ship to a stop. At the hands which had pressed against glass in direct mirror with her favorite persons. "I failed. She's. Alex is- She's gone."
Hasn't forgiven himself for impersonating Jeremiah and tricking her into betraying the DEO and suspending her. Hasn't forgiven himself for forgetting who Alex was – forgetting that there was nothing on heaven or earth that would have kept her from trying to stop her father. Forcing her to act on her own – risk on her own – and lose.
So, he lost a daughter that day. Almost two. Kara only survived for the support that she'd built around herself – for Winn and James and Lucy and Maggie – everyone that had lost Alex Danvers and held each other up for it.
But he still lost his daughter.
And then.
Then she came back.
And she brought… so much more with her.
She brought his world back with her.
Brought Ky. Brought another Green Martian. A child who would help carry the legacy of their people. With whom he could teach and connect and share. Alex brought back a future for his people that he'd thought burned alive with the rest of his planet. And Ky was… a wonder. Strong and smart and quick but kind, thoughtful. The best of her mother.
And… His father. Who'd spent decades disassociating from reality, protecting himself behind mental walls so high, so strong that he couldn't see salvation when it was right in front of him. Until he was brought aboard the Exodus, and Alex had found him – not even knowing who he was yet. She found him and she sat with him and she told him stories about another Green Martian she knew – a man who had helped her build a life she could be proud of. Who raised her up, protected her, loved her.
"J'onn. Your earth daughter is very special – she led me out of the prison of my mind. She brings great honor to our family – to our people. You should be proud."
And he was. So proud. Of Alex, and the person she is against all odds. In the face of pain that haunted her every move. In the face of tragedy that shadowed her life.
But now.
Now his earth daughter was hurting.
Even with the neural blocker preventing access to her mind, he knew. He could see. The moment she marched out of the cemetery – the set of her shoulders and deliberateness of her stride. Too decisive. Too much the soldier that she'd been trying to leave behind.
So, he sat through the funeral. Because that was what Alex would want – what he owed the Jeremiah Danvers who begged him to take care of his girls. Owed it to Kara, who had to gently pry her weeping foster mother's speech from her fingers and finish the eulogy. Owed it to Maggie, who tucked Kara under her arm the moment they were reseated.
But the moment the procession moved to the grave, J'onn caught Maggie's eye before leaving. Her grateful nod was all the permission he needed.
He tracked Alex right back to the Danvers family home, but the car was parked on the road and there was no sign of her in the house. Doors still locked, no answer.
It was only when he circled the back and fond the storage unit ajar that he realized where she'd gone.
The last place that she'd truly felt close to her father.
The beach was deserted this time of day – the water too flat for surfers to bother, the weather too cold for everyone else, even as the sun beat down.
He sat in the sand and waited; stolen towel tucked on his lap.
Watched.
If she knew J'onn was there, she didn't show it. Laying back on her surfboard, feet hanging off the side, staring into the sky. Thinking about the constellations hidden from sight. Feeling the water rock her, the swell of the tide drawing her gradually into shore. Remembering the sound of her father's voice, who woke up at the break of dawn every single day for an entire summer to teach her how to surf. Patient explanations, gentle instruction, genuine praise – her dad. Before he was taken. Before he was stolen.
She let herself drift. Let herself remember.
And then she sighed and rolled off– sinking under the water. Lingering in the silence, in the pressure of the ocean. Holding her breath for as long as she could – until she burned with newer memories (newer trauma's) that forced her up. Breaking the surface and reboarding – swimming back to shore.
To reality.
To hurt and pain.
To… J'onn. Looking as out of place as humanly possible. Still in his funeral suit, arm resting on one knee in the sand. Tracking her every moment – protecting her. Even from herself.
"You didn't have to come out here," she said, jamming the board into the sand nearby, yanking the zip down the back of her wetsuit.
"I know."
She dragged the upper half of the material down, letting it hang around her waist, leaving her in a black sports bra. She crossed her arms, jaw working as she stared back up at the house.
"Are they back?"
"Not yet."
She didn't know whether that was meant to make her feel better or worse.
"Why aren't you with the others?"
J'onn stared up her, taking in how her bionic hand was digging into its mirror, this side of painful. Took in the stiff set of her shoulders, the pinch in her forehead.
"You needed me more."
"Kara needs you."
"She has Maggie – you deserve support too, Alex."
Silence. Her jaw worked, chin dipping against her chest.
When he next spoke, it was more tentative. More careful – knowing that each word was another inch of knife digging into her heart. "You're allowed to grieve Alex."
The snort that ripped out of her throat was accompanied by her arms dropping away, good hand coming to rub at her good eye. "No, I'm not."
J'onn let the moment sit – let her stare off towards her childhood home, dripping wet. Skin erupting with ignored goosebumps.
He nudged his head to the side, even though she wasn't looking. "Alex, come here."
Nothing. Then her shoulders dropped – nose wrinkling as she fought tears – but she came. Dropping down next to J'onn in the sand – just shy of touching. Hugging her knees and resting her chin on top. Reached around, he wrapped a towel around her, draping it over her shoulders as she stared out into the ocean.
The dark, inky part of her mind wished it had been a rough day. A day where she would have had to fight to stay above the waves. Fight for each burning breath.
Another kind of guilt slammed through her at the thought.
"No matter what else he was," he started, watching the drag of the tide. "You still lost your father."
"I killed him."
Heart fracturing under her pain, J'onn kept his eyes cast outwards. Gave her as much emotional space as he could.
"You killed a Cadmus operative – your father died in Peru, protecting me," he started, gentling his tone as much as possible. "His dying wish was for me to protect you – the man you killed was someone else entirely. A warped version that evil people used to hurt others. But your father died long ago, and you are allowed to grieve that loss, Alex."
"I-" a stuttered breath. A pause. "I killed him J'onn."
"I know."
"Even… even if he wasn't my father – he looked like him. Spoke through his mouth – used my dad's love to justify his actions. And… and I killed him." Each word she spoke was quieter than the last.
"I know you know you had no choice."
"Doesn't help."
"It will," he assured. "With time. But right now, you can just mourn the man you loved – whether he died last week or last decade. You're his daughter – that is your right."
"I-" Alex cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling. Letting the familiar damp air coat her lungs – anchor her to the earth. "I don't know how."
"There is no wrong way to grieve, Alex."
"That's just it," she started, tilting her head toward J'onn but keeping her eyes fixed on the sand. "I… I don't know how to grieve for him anymore."
Silence, in which J'onn watched the side of Alex's face. How the skin around her eye wrinkled, how her jaw ticked.
"I think," she started. Stopped. Started again. "I think I already mourned him. The man that… that taught me to surf, about the stars. The man that died in Peru." Another pause where she took careful, measured breaths. "Even though he wasn't dead, I still believed he was. I still mourned like he was," as much as Eliza allowed. As much as was possible while looking after Kara and the house and getting by. "And then… and then we found him. And he came home – but that wasn't my father. The… the man who put everyone on the ship, who dissected the aliens in that facility, who held a gun to Winn's-" she clenched her teeth against the disintegrating of her voice – shaking more with each word. "That man wasn't my father. And I don't know how to grieve him. But I'm still… I'm still hurting."
J'onn just watched, fighting the urge to reach out, to drag the shaking woman into his arms. The Alex before the Exodus would not have acknowledged her hurt like this – would not have opened up like this – but she still couldn't be pushed. She still had to offer her pain up willingly, otherwise she shut it all away. Buried it in her chest and let it fester, away from prying eyes.
"Alex," he waited for her to tilt her head towards him, still not meeting his eyes, but closer.
"You are allowed to grieve the loss of potential. Jeremiah… ever since that we were in that shipping container, you had the hope of your father coming back. That is something real. Something you lost."
Her first clear thought broke through her mind – striking through the fog of pain and confusion. Pressing her cheek against her shoulder, she finally met his eyes. "I've had a father for almost a decade. J'onn, you've always been like a father to me. Especially since I came home. And I," she turned more fully, making sure he understood. Making sure they both understood. "And I choose you to be my family."
His expression softened, eyes shining. He took a moment – gathering himself before sharing the words that he'd already said. But this time with more certainty, with more claim. "Any man would be proud to call you his daughter."
The funeral was… hard.
And kinda… weird.
Eliza seemed to have sucked up all the emotional energy in the room. She sat up front, bent at the waist, silently crying. Kara, pressed to her side, ran a soothing hand along her shoulders – operating purely on habit, mechanical. Maggie could see the desire to be with her sister burning in her every move. At every glance.
Could see the way she tilted her ear towards the door – listening for Alex's heart. Listening for how it was broken.
Meanwhile, the sparce crowd shifted in their chairs. A couple checked their watches during prayers. It was deeply apparent that no one was here for Jeremiah, with Eliza as the exception. This was purely a supportive showing – J'onn, Winn, James, Maggie all here for Kara. Kara here for Eliza. Everyone else, Maggie assumed, where collogues, family friends.
None of whom probably even know Jeremiah's first death had been fabricated.
The whole thing felt… stilted. Procedural. Like everyone, but Eliza, was going through the phases.
Then Eliza was speaking, stuttering, sobbing, and Kara was forced from her seat. Forced to speak on her family's behalf – even though Alex was banished. Even though Alex was the daughter raised by Jeremiah.
When they came back to their seats, Maggie took her hand. Letting her sister squeeze as hard as she wanted.
But it was Maggie's hand that needed squeezing at the grave site.
They… stood in front of Jeremiah Danvers grave while he was lowered, finally, into the ground. But Maggie's eyes were locked on its neighbor.
Alexandra Danvers
12 October 1989 - 18 March 2017
Loving daughter, sister, friend.
Maggie still hated that epitaph. Boiling Alex Danvers down to four words was unacceptable. But… those four words which weren't even about her. They are about what she gave to others. The whole thing still made Maggie twitch. Still made something squirm in her gut.
She wondered how long they'd leave it there – Alex had been home for over two years – longer than she'd been missing.
She wondered if Eliza would start pretending again. Like she did when Alex was deported – shoving thoughts of her eldest daughter so far to the back of her mind it was as if she was dead.
Wondered if Alex and Eliza would ever come back from that scene on the lawn. Mother shattering daughter into a million sharp pieces – reinforcing that the guilt she'd carried since she pulled that trigger was earned.
The only thing that kept Maggie rooted to the spot was that J'onn had slipped away.
But then Kara was handing her Eliza's keys. Alex had taken her car – hotwired it most likely (Maggie chose not to think about that too hard) – and Kara was in no state to drive. Plus, Maggie didn't trust herself to comfort Eliza.
Even the thought made her blood roil.
So, Kara dutifully slipped into the backseat with her foster mother and Maggie started the car. Itching to press down on the gas – get closer to her partner as fast as she could.
It took minutes to realize that Eliza was talking – murmuring under her breath. But from the set of Kara's shoulders, Maggie suspected that she'd been talking for longer than she'd realized.
"She shouldn't have come – why did she come? Why would she do that to me? Us? Her? Why did she… why did she make me do that? Why would she… break everything so much. She should have... known. Should have known better. I didn't… I didn't want…"
"Eliza," Kara's voice was whisper soft – even though fire burned behind her eyes. "Alex was just trying to do the right thing."
A pause, where Maggie glanced in the rearview – locked eyes with the sister who wanted so desperately to defend her sister with stronger words than she was using.
Maggie applauded her restraint even as she itched to lash out.
"She failed." Maggie thought that mutter was the end of it, clenching her jaw as she navigates the unfamiliar roads. Fortunately, Midvale was tiny – not Blue Springs tiny but still – follow the beach and you'd eventually end up at the Danvers'.
Eliza's voice set her teeth on edge again – Kara closed her eyes against the words, tilting her head away. Maggie ached to go to her sister – pull over and hold her, protect her from the pain her foster mother was inflicting – this time without even trying. "Alex was always the strongest of all of us… but she… she let him… she…. She was supposed to be the strongest of all of us."
Because she had to be. Because your husband died, and you hid in your work. You left your fourteen-year-old, with her own grief, to look after an alien sister. An alien sister whose own loss was fresh and horrible and so much louder, and Alex didn't have the room – the space – to be anything but strong. To pack away all the pain and stress and live up to expectation. At the expense of her own mental and physical health. At the expense of her own dreams. At the expense of Alex – to the point where Lucy and Maggie were the first people who really, truly, got her to be herself. Because no one else had asked – had let her.
Alex became the Danvers family backbone. And the thing is, it worked. Alex managed to make everything okay, and the house never burned down and Kara turned into an amazing person and Eliza got that patent done and so, why wouldn't Eliza expect Alex to just put aside her own pain and experience and interests to continue to be the backbone - the one to hold everything together? It worked. So why, why didn't she put aside Winn or reality or… her own hurt and experience and saveJeremiah?
Maggie seethed in her own thoughts – seethed under the anxious energy Kara was letting off – seethed under the missing woman in the car – seethed at the mother who was too deep in her own pain and loss and the potential of saving her husband that she couldn't see the daughter she was sacrificing.
The daughter she kept hurting.
But they were closing in on the house now – the neat line of picket fenced suburbia looking more and more familiar. Turning into the drive she clocked Lucy's DEO issue car, eyebrows knitting at the lack of driver.
Panic spiked in her chest.
And then she was parking – unbuckling, keeping an eye on Kara as she supported her foster mother from the car. She managed to tilt her head towards Maggie while her mother unlocked the front door, she mouthed "beach" over her shoulder.
Panic still swirled, but less violent now; less likely to drag her under.
She loitered in the bottom floor, letting Kara lead her mother upstairs. She'd asked to just be able to go to bed – be alone. The dismissal, any other time, would have raised protests from Kara. Right now? Maggie could see the relief in the slump of her shoulder.
They just wanted to see Alex.
Make sure she was… not okay. But safe.
They needn't have worried.
Because Maggie'd been right to trust J'onn. They found the pair, framed by the sun, sitting down the beach watching the tide come in. Alex, wrapped in a towel, had her head resting on his shoulder, his arm tucked around her. They looked… peaceful. Picturesque.
Kara bumped her shoulder, fingers catching hers while they watched. Relaxed.
There was a… long road of recovery. Alex would struggle under the weight of her choices, of Eliza's accusations. Of her guilt and pain and grief, for a long while.
But she had people in her corner.
And, the one thing that came out of the Exodus – of Alex's being deported – was that there were even more people ready to go to the mat for Alex Danvers than ever.
Their little chosen, found family? That was going to be what got everyone through this. And that, that is what had Maggie smiling – just a little – just enough – and tugging Kara down the beach with her. To join her girl, and the man that would, one day, walk them down the aisle.
And tonight?
Maggie would drive the Danvers girls home, forgoing the hotel. They press against each other in the back, blurry street lights illuminating their sleeping faces in the rearview. Maggie would steal glances every time memories had rage welling in her chest - would relax every time she saw that the sisters were safe.
And, when they eventually shouldered into the triad's apartment, they'd all smile at the sight of their respective partners. Lena stretched out on the larger sectional; Lucy curled up in the armchair. Both dead asleep.
And Alex would brush hair out of Lucy's face, and accept the offered, clumsy kiss. Would furrow her brows when Lucy sleepily stands and shoves Alex into her previously occupied seat. Would smile when the Director immediately climbs back in, head tucked under Alex's chin, legs thrown over hers.
And Maggie would press a kiss to each of her partners heads before following Kara to the sectional – would watch the younger Danvers lift Little Luthor's legs and sit herself under them. Would tuck herself into Kara's side, letting the younger girl lean against her shoulder.
And they would sit – knowing that a groggy teenager would wake them too bright and too early. And they all be stiff from horrible sleeping locations, but would eat pancakes and drink coffee and they would just… look after each other.
Because this is the family they chose.