Twisters AU - Kara starts to heal
Kara isn't sure what she'd expected, walking into the Harding household. Somehow, a sea of pictures featuring Lena at various ages surrounded a motley crew of men and women at various degrees of cleanliness is somehow not, but also exactly what she expects. It feeds into the rough and tumble nature that Kara has come to associate with Lena, and as she peruses walls on her way back from the bathroom, she hears Lena's full belly laugh rolling from the kitchen. The photos and the warmth and the mirth all fuel the full presence that is Lena. Lena Harding, it would seem.
Lena's eyes flash to her when Kara steps back into the kitchen. Her gaze lingers a half-second longer than Kara expects, but before she can study it further Lena returns her attention to the frypan on which she's cooking a pair of eggs with sure, practiced flicks of her wrist.
"I was just telling mom about our most recent escapade," Lena tells her.
Kara scoffs a laugh, folding her arms as she leans against the kitchen island. "Which one? The fireworks or the misfire?"
"A misfire?" Jo arches an eyebrow at her daughter. "From Lena? Doesn't sound like any daughter I raised."
"Hardy har," Lena returns, her accent deepening in a way that makes Kara grin. "I let you have that one."
"Sure. I'll just pretend I didn't snoop on your comms and hear your crew teasing the shit out of you."
"Hah!" Jo barks, clapping her hands. "Oh, Lena, I like her!"
Kara flushes, unable to keep her chest from swelling with the compliment.
"I assume the guys are helping with the EF4 that touched down over in Rowena." Jo's voice softened, but remained matter of fact.
Kara's stomach drops, and a finger of ice curls down her spine. The memory of the night before chills the warmth that's built around her, tightening her chest and hitching her breath. When Lena quiets, Kara lifts her gaze, and their eyes lock across the room. Jo notes the beat, and nods.
"Front row seat?"
Lena exhales. "You could say that."
Kara expects Jo to warn about danger, perhaps echo an old argument about the inherent risk of chasing tornadoes, especially the kind of "wrangling" that Lena does. But none of that comes.
"They were lucky you were there."
Jo's response is so unexpected that Kara blinks, stunned. She looks to Lena, who gives a grim, close lipped smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Jo reaches out to her, cupping her daughter's cheek.
"The work you do is so important." Jo looks at Kara. "The work you both do. Not a lot of people see that. But I do."
Kara stares. "You do?"
Lena chuckles. "Oh yeah. You know Dorothy? That was mom."
"Wait, you--" Kara chokes out. "You're Jo-- You're that Harding? Of the Harding model?!"
"Guilty," Jo returns, not bothering to hide her smug smile. "Wasn't always a farmer."
"I developed my middle school science fair project based on your research!"
Lena cackles, earning a smack on the arm from her mother.
"Don't say that!" Jo exclaimed. "Like I need any more proof I'm getting older..."
"Oh, you're still young," Lena chides, craning back to give her mom a peck on the cheek.
"Yeah, sorry, I mean-- all of my research is based on what you achieved with Dorothy."
Jo's eyebrow quirks. "Oh? What kind of research?"
"She's going to tame a tornado," Lena supplies. But this time, it's without teasing. In fact, Kara detects a note of pride.
Jo turns fully towards Kara. "Tell me more."
Kara does. She shares the entirety of her project, her hypotheses and experiments and predictive models. Jo asks insightful questions, forcing Kara to dig deep into her knowledge banks, recalling the particulars of research she hasn't touched in five years.
In doing so, she recalls the nights spent with her sister, her friends-- the laughter and adrenaline, the intellectual combativeness, the drive to push each other to new heights.
The image of her sister's broken body the morning after that final, fateful chase.
She doesn't realize she's crying until Jo's arms wrap around her. She sags into the hug, clutching Jo as sobs wrack her from head to toe. Jo lets her cry, until the tears run out and Kara catches her breath again.
"I'm sorry," she says shakily. She adjusts her glasses, before noticing they're fogged. She removes them, and busies herself with drying them.
"Don't ever apologize for missing the lost, sweetheart." Jo cups Kara's cheeks. "It hurts, but until that hurt passes-- until thoughts of them go back to bringing happiness-- the sadness is how we remember them."
