thunder and lightning
The first sign that there was something wrong was the knocking that came at her door.
Janet wrung her soaking wet hair out over the sink – she’d already toweled off and changed into dry clothes so as to avoid any sudden electrical outburst (she’d made sure to dry her grounding rings off, too, so that she could put them back on and prevent herself from sending any little static into her skin) – this was, of course, her primary weakness, that even though she was immune to her own shock the majority of the time, trying to shock anything while she was wet would just send the shock right back at her. Showers and rain in and of themselves were not a problem; it was standing water, wet skin or wet clothes, or having a bucket dropped on her head when she needed her powers to fight that caused more of an issue.
She’d been planning on curling up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate (melted dark chocolate and chocolate milk over the stovetop, now that she could use the stove) while she waited for her hair to drip dry. There shouldn’t even be anyone here. Very few people knew where she lived, and fewer still (read as no one) wanted to visit her just for the sake of visiting her. Luisa might have, if she knew that she were in town, and Janet might have suffered a visit from her, partly because Luisa made hot chocolate better than she did (she wasn’t sure how, since she followed the same recipe, but somehow she did).
But she hadn’t been in contact with her. Truth be told, Janet didn’t want her to know that she was back. (Problem being that if Luisa was paying attention to the news, she had probably seen her once or twice. But that didn’t mean she knew how to find her – or still had contact with any of the old gang to be able to use them to reach her. She was certain that if Luisa knew she would want to get in touch. Not because they necessarily liked each other. Luisa was just that sort of person.)
The knock came at the door again. Janet contemplated not answering. She didn’t want to answer. Nothing good could come of answering. But she was curious. Out of everyone who knew her and knew she’d returned, who would be at the door? It seemed so out of character for any of them.
So it was curiosity, mainly, that made Janet leave the bathroom, her hair still dripping every now and again, leaving a wet trail down the back of her black sleeveless shirt that was barely distinguishable at all, and make her way to the front door of her apartment. She didn’t even check through the peephole, but, point in her favor, she didn’t unchain her door before opening it. Point against her – that meant that whoever was on the other side could argue their case.
There, on the other side of the door, stood none other than Clara Morrigan, soaking wet, her blond hair plastered to her scalp, rubbing her glasses hopelessly against the wet fabric of her white blouse. Clara looked up as soon as the door started to open, squinted, and then put her glasses back on. There were streaks across the glass; there was no way she could still see well through those.
The chain clacked as it held the door in place, keeping Clara from entering.
“Janet,” Clara breathed out, and she seemed to relax. “I was out and it started storming and I didn’t know where else to turn and I knew you lived nearby and—”
“It’s just rain,” Janet said abruptly. “You can’t handle a little rain?”
Clara stopped, and she smiled, tight-lipped. “It makes me nervous. I don’t know why. I’ve tried to stop it, but something about thunderstorms….” She shrugged. Then she leaned forward. “It’s not the lightning. Or the thunder. I have no problems with whatever it is you play during the rain.”
Janet’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not me. I’m—”
“I know, I know. It’s a joke. A poor one.” Clara glanced down at her frilly white blouse, froze, and then looked back up, pressing her arms together in front of her. “You’re going to let me in, aren’t you?”
Janet’s brows raised. “I hadn’t decided yet. How much are you going to pay me?”
Clara’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t planning on paying you anything. We’re friends. Friends don’t pay each other to stay when something’s troubling them.”
“Your friends, maybe.”
“You are one of my friends.”
“Says you.”
Clara took a deep breath and then sighed. “How much do you want?”
“How much do you have?” Janet asked with a smile. Her eyes took in Clara’s appearance again. Someone else would probably take her in, if she asked. She had neighbors. Well. She’d had neighbors once. They’d all moved out once they saw her on tv. Something about building insurance. The landlords would probably have rather she left instead, but it wasn’t like she’d paid in advance and they would just be breaking contract with her to kick her out. More like she’d bought the whole floor and made sure to tailor it to her specific conventions. They were stuck with her.
Oh well.
“On me?” Clara asked, staring at her. “I don’t make a point of carrying cash with me. National City and muggers, you know. Supergirl doesn’t stop everyone.”
How well Janet knew that. She tapped her fingers on the doorframe. “Phantom usually catches the ones Supergirl misses. Then there’s Guardian – he kind of specializes in muggers. I almost think he’s a normal human – no powers or anything, just armor.” She could take him down easy. He wouldn’t stand a chance against a super or some of the particularly ambitious aliens. No, he just had cool tech. The problem with cool tech was that most of it couldn’t stand a simple jolt. Not these days.
“I don’t have cash, Janet.” Clara took a deep breath. She hadn’t rubbed her forehead yet. Other than her tone, she didn’t seem exasperated at all. “Are you going to let me in or not?”
Janet sighed. “You haven’t really convinced me.” She pushed a hand through her wet hair – a bad idea, because now her fingers were damp. She dried them on the front of her shirt. “I would guess not.” Then she shut the door.
She could hear Clara sigh on the other side immediately, and it brought a smile to her face.
Then she fiddled with the locks and opened the door more fully so that the other woman could come in. “Look,” Janet said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “I changed my mind.”