Pass Them Over

Chapter 2 - The Lesbian Trifecta

Alex disembarks the airplane in Gotham already aware of the chill in the air. This isn't the west coast, and a darkness, a grit clings to every surface, even the people. She has no intention of staying long enough to count herself among their number. She follows a line of people who make their way through security areas to reach loved ones. No longer can people wait at the gates, not since towers came down just across the river. We're stuck in an endless loop, an eternal argument between where rights overlap freedom and vice-versa. She has a locked case full of firearms but had to take off her shoes to board the plane. She's not arguing. She needs shoes and guns to do her job but...hmmm.

It isn't motion that catches her eye, or stillness, or color, or something that shouldn't be there, or, or, or...it's Maggie. Alex trips on air, or memories, or regret.

"Get it together, Danvers," she mutters to herself.

Maggie's holding two styrofoam cups. One is to her lips, the other in her hand at about waist level. There are several seconds before Maggie's gaze drifts left, and then the connection is made. The cup pauses at her lips before she tips it back, taking her sip and then lowering it. As one cup is lowered, the other raises in a salute.

Everyone knows people who don't smile with their eyes. Maggie's just the opposite. She smiles from her eyes first, and her mouth follows along right afterward. That's genuine. When Maggie's lips curl up, Alex's center tightens. It's a reflex. You do it automatically when you get punched in the gut, and Maggie's dimples hit hard.

Alex once lived in a binary world, simple and clear-cut: right and wrong, do or don't, pass or fail. Her life was black and white. Then came Maggie, and the world became a rainbow of color. That's a metaphor. That's the truth. Once you've seen every color under the sun, black and white with shades of gray won't do. The problem is, Alex wants the rainbow, and the pot of gold too.

Alex crosses the narrow space between them, so small compared to what divides them Her thoughts race and twist over each other threatening to spill out. It's a sort of internal babble as words struggle for dominance and threaten to rush out together. She's never felt closer to her sister.

She reaches Maggie, and everything stills. So many options lay before her. 'It's been too long. You look great. I miss you. I wish I hadn't...' She inhales, breathes out, and says, "Hey."

"Coffee?" Maggie replies, holding the cup in question out toward Alex. "It's just the way you like it."

Just the way she likes it...yeah. "Thanks."

As Alex takes the cup, Maggie nods. "No, thank you for coming. This is serious and...not here. Let's get your luggage. We can talk in the car. I'm sure you've got questions."

"Tons," Alex admits as she falls into step beside the shorter woman, and they head toward baggage claim. "I'll start with wondering why the FBI hasn't been called in."

"You are the FBI," Maggie smirks over her cup.

"Smart ass."

"Wow, you're in my presence for like one minute and already objectifying me." Here come the dimples again. "Charmer."

"Well, you know. It's a Danvers thing."

The conversation pivots. "Kara's been doing well. I mean, I was worried after um...But she's doing well."

"You're in touch with Kara?"

Maggie gestures to one of the many screens plastered around the airport. "I own a TV. Your sister, she's pretty photogenic."