xp_logs | Two Logs: Forge/Dani, Forge/Catseye. Guest Starring "Dad". (Reply)

Thursday afternoon, Forge and his father are heading to the hospital. Dani stops them, making sure Forge gets all the help he needs, even if he doesn't want it.

"Wait!" Dani called to Forge and his father from the upstairs hallway that
led to the foyer as they were about to leave for the hospital. Half running,
half stumbling down the stairs, she clutched a rolled newspaper shaped like
a cigar in one hand and the stair bannister with the other. "You can't go
yet," she panted, trying to catch her breath.

Forge raised an eyebrow, used to Dani's occasional odd behavior, yet
still amused at the sight of a pregnant woman rushing herself down
stairs. Richard, somewhat more composed and nonplussed by Dani's
outburst, stepped up onto the stairs, holding out an arm for the girl.

"We're not in any rush," he said, looking over at his son. "Was there
something you needed?"

Holding up the newspaper, Dani fished a pack of matches out of a pocket.
"You can't go until you're pure," she explained, forgetting that Forge had
no idea what she was talking about, "Cedar, sage, dakota."

Richard smiled widely, setting down the heavy case that Forge's
prosthetic was sealed in. "Smudging," he commented, noticing his son's
confused look. "It's an Indian thing, traditional to ward off bad
luck, cleanse the sick, stuff like that." He looked at Dani and
nodded. "Out on the porch, then? Since I don't think the Professor
would appreciate smoke alarms being set off."

At John Henry's bemused scowl, Richard reached out to ruffle his son's
hair. "It's not going to hurt anything. Besides, it'll do you good to
learn some tradition once in a while."

Following the men outside, Dani lit an end of the smudge stick and fanned
the air towards it to make it smoke more. Solemnly, she waved the smoke over
Forge, chanting in Cheyenne before repeating the same thing for his father.
Waving the stick towards the mansion for good measure, she snuffed it out
carefully, making sure that it was not out completely.

The expression on Forge's face was somewhere just short of total
incredulity, while his father looked calm and serene. "Think of it
like prayer, John," he explained. "Traditionally, the smoke carries
away the spirits of bad fortune, or sickness, or sadness. It's
something I know you don't put a lot of stock in," he said quietly,
"but it never hurts to have an open mind."

"It don't matter if you don't believe. We do," Dani said, indicating
herself and his father, she was content that Forge would figure things
out for himself, "And this will help you heal after the surgery. Focuses
your energy to healing." It was better than cheesy balloons anyways.

"Focuses energy. Right." Forge's voice was skeptical. He stood for a
moment, then stepped forward quickly, hugging Dani tightly. "Thanks..." he whispered. "Just... thanks."

"Be well, Hahkota," she whispered, hugging him back.

Immediately after, father and son head off to the hospital, with one stowaway passenger.

Forge frowned as he walked across the driveway to his father's rental
car, his clothes still smelling faintly of sage and whatever else it
was Dani had burned. As his father unlocked the doors, Forge stopped,
looking disapprovingly.

"You got a Taurus AGAIN," he whined, opening the back door to slide
his case into. "They ride like crap and have even worse drivetrains.
I'm amazed they're still on the road."

"It's a dependable model," Richard countered, sliding behind the
driver's seat, "and I like them. Not everyone judges a car solely by
performance or 'coolness', John."

Forge paused, ignoring the open door. "Hey, that reminds me, have you
seen the Jeep that Ms. Maximoff and I worked on? Dani helped us with
the brakes - she used to work in an auto shop - it's really sweet. If
we've got time..."

"John." Richard's voice was quiet. "I know you're nervous, it's
normal. We'll go to the center and talk with Dr. Smythe before we
admit you. In a few days, this'll all be over and you can start going
about your daily life again."

Slowly, Forge shut the back door of the car, slumping down into the
passenger seat. He'd almost forgotten how much he hated being in the
passenger seat, nearly every time he'd left the mansion so far, he'd
been the one driving. One more thing to not be in control of.

"Fine," he breathed, "but I'm not nervous. I'm not."

Liar, liar, pants on fire! The ditty was something she'd
heard the small ones sing now and then in the hallways and it
seemed appropriate for this particular moment. Neatly tucked in
the space left between the case with Forge's "new" arm and the
seat in the back, Catseye remained silent however, listening to
the purr of the engine start with a content look of satisfaction
on her face, whiskers arching forward in self-congratulations.

They'd been so distracted they wouldn't have noticed if she'd
trotted up the to car in full view rather than hiding underneath
it since the early morning hours and just slinking inside as
soon as a back door was opened. It was too bad she couldn't fit
herself under the front seat, as she used to do as a kitten
though. Still, she'd improvised nicely with the case in the
back. The seats were even grey, which meant any cat hair she
might leave behind would probably not be noticed right away.

If they thought Forge was heading off to some strange place
without some supervision, they were sorely mistaken.

The drive was reasonably pleasant, Forge decided. Small talk, some
minor quibbling over the radio - Does my dad listen to ANYTHING
recorded during my lifetime? - and minor family talk.

"Your mom really wanted to come, but with depositions scheduled..."

"I know, Dad," Forge said, looking out the window. "She called this
morning to make sure everything was okay. And yes, I remembered to
order flowers for Sunday." He smiled broadly. "I remembered who sends
the brownies. You have no idea how hard it is to hide those from Kyle,
up until he remembers he can't have chocolate."

"Food allergy?" Richard asked, "I'll have to have your mother make
something he'll be able to share, then."

A few more minutes of small talk, then the hospital's parking garage
opened up before them. Opening the back door, Richard glanced over the
roof of the rental car at his son. "It's okay, John. You don't have to
be nervous."

"Yes I do," Forge snapped back, watching his father take the case and
lock the car. "No disrespect, Dad, but you haven't even had your
appendix removed. Major cybernetic replacement surgery - it's not like
getting a tooth filled. I think a little nervous is okay."

Catseye had slid out of the car in a motion not unlike liquid
drooping out of a container while avoiding touching the man
standing next to the door and then padded back under the car,
stomach nearly flat to the ground. As it was she waited a bit
until they had something of a head start, still busy fixing the
scents from the car to memory diligently. Not that she'd be
unable to recognize Forge's scent anywhere, but the medlab
smells were sometimes enough to throw things off and she knew
they were going to one of the much bigger equivalents of
a medlab now. A peek from behind one wheel showed that they were
in an underground garage (good for wintering during the coldest
says, those) and a glance towards Forge and his father showed
they'd almost reached the exit.

Slinking out from underneath the car, Catseye padded towards the
door steadily, keeping to the shadows cast by other vehicles and
never stepping into plain sight. She paused at the side of the
sliding door, then leaned forward just a bit, peeking through
the glass window within to see the disappearing backs of those
she was following. Waiting until no one was casually looking
towards the doors wasn't too hard and though she'd not seen any
handles, she'd seen enough sliding doors to know that a simple
hop in front of the door would be enough for it to slide open.

Which it did, allowing Catseye to run inside and scurry towards
a chair, tucking herself underneath it in case someone looked
towards the door automatically and noticed her. At least this
door hadn't been too hard. Shortly thereafter she peered out
from under the chair, just in time to notice in which direction
Forge turned at the end of the hallway. A glance up at the signs
to make sure she had overheard the right department, and Catseye
followed, padding carefully under a series of chair before
moving to more cover to conceal her progress down the hallway.

Walking down to Dr. Smythe's office felt a lot like the walk to one's
own execution, Forge thought. While he admittedly didn't remember a
lot of the hospital stay after his accident, he felt better knowing
that this time he was going into things alert, informed, and educated.

Pausing briefly, he looked behind him at a row of chairs. Squinting,
he cocked his head. "Huh," he remarked. Beside him, his father looked
back.

"Something wrong, son?"

Turning away, Forge shrugged. "No. Just one of those feelings, you
know? Nerves, honest."

Curled up behind a plant in a shape she had no business being
contorted into, Catseye allowed herself to breathe, whiskers
quivering. That had been far too close. People weren't
used to looking for a cat.

However, Forge was.

Catseye had seen enough of Kyle's computer games to know that
she had to get creative. Looking around pensively, ponder the
importance to being sneaky. And costumes. Human clothing was
annoying, but it could be useful... And she knew which office
they were headed for and could always catch up more safely in a
bit, at least until she knew the room number at which
time all bets were off.

With that in mind Catseye bit back a purr of satisfaction,
winked at a toddler staring at her from his stroller in
enraptured fascination and headed off in the opposite direction,
following the signs that lead to the Laundry Room.

The next hour and a half of talking was a blur to Richard. It was odd
talking to Spencer -Dr. Smythe -, he reminded himself of how
far they'd both progressed from their college days. He found himself
thinking of how John Henry would fare in college - if he even chose to
go. With his gifts, he could go directly into any scientific field of
his choice, or even business for himself.

Business - now there was something Richard Forge knew. He may not have
been gifted with his son's intellect, but he knew how the corporate
world moved. And if he could pass that on, add that to the lessons
that John Henry was learning at Xavier's, maybe that would be enough.

"Richard?" Dr. Smythe's voice interrupted his reverie. "There's some
paperwork to sign. Everything's in order, all I need is to check out
the prosthetic before the surgery. I've seen the blueprints, and
everything seems to be brilliantly designed. Your son has a bright
future in cybernetic design, should he choose."

Richard smiled over at his son, who took the praise with quiet aplomb.
Nodding, he agreed. "In whatever he does, I'm sure. Now, with regards
to that, I've done up some non-disclosure paperwork for you and the
hospital - should he want to patent the design, you understand..."

Forge leaned back, watching his father talk business with Dr. Smythe.
Watching the clock, he began a countdown in his head. Thirteen
hours...

The shape neatly folded and tucked into an upper corner of the
room tilted its head to the side, three sets of claws dug into
the plaster of the wall and one foot casually resting on top of
a locker just in case her grip failed. ThreeGreenEyes sneaks
into enemy territory, ready to pounce upon the unsuspecting
BadPlottingPeople... A sharply amused grin revealed too sharp
canines for a moment, before it faded back into serious calm.

The Laundry room had been perfect. She'd found exactly what she
needed in it, though the accursed shoes had been stuffed in the
pockets of the neat white shirt and overalls she'd "borrowed"
rather than worn. That would do for when she had to head back
out. For the moment though, Catseye remained entirely motionless
as two of the attendants hummed tunelessly while loading up more
clean laundry to take to wherever humans took things that made
no sense at all in shape or function. One particular piece of
cloth had suddenly made sense, though it had Catseye solidly
reaffirming to herself her belief that humans were weird.

Finally, after a moment where she was dead certain one of them
was about to look straight up at her, both left the room,
pushing the little trundling carriages in front of them while
looking down. With a sigh of impatience she tucked herself in
and then out, bouncing out of the corner to land on the
floor lightly. And then pitched forward to nearly land on her
nose, wild scrabbling at the last moment the only thing that
saved her from having to peel her face off the floor. On all
fours, she took a deep breath and then pushed herself upright,
one hand slamming against a locker to keep from going backwards.

She had to put on the shoes. Hissing in annoyance she sat down
and proceeded to fight the things onto her feet, grumbling the
entire time, before stretching an arm out to yank a piece of
cloth from one of the remaining bags of clean laundry nearby. A
few neat twists (Marie-Ange was so getting mice on her pillow
when she got back, or maybe a rabbit) and Catseye's hair was
neatly tucked under the fabric, only a few purple wisps sticking
out. A coat was added to the disguise to hide her tail, which
she hadn't been about to try to keep in the wretched overalls,
and with that, Catseye laid claim to the last trolley of bed
sheets.

And reminded herself to look down at all times. And not
mutter 'ThreeGreenEyes' to herself too often.

At least out loud.

Blood drawn, vitals checked, more x-rays taken, and Forge was finally
shown to a room. Turning around as he entered, he blinked a few times.
"This isn't what I expected a hospital room to be..." he murmured,
looking at the full-size bed in place of a glorified gurney, a
bathroom with a door, and even a TV sitting on an end table.

"These are for visitors," his father explained, "I was able to pull a
few strings. Since you're going to be doing most of your recovery with
Dr. Grey and Dr. McCoy at the school, I figured we could put you a
little more at ease beforehand."

Forge nodded, walking around. The plaster cast on his arm had been
replaced with a hard sterile plastic sleeve, making it awkward to
manipulate things. "Hell of a way to lose fifteen pounds, huh?" he
remarked to no one in particular.

Walking up behind him, Richard gave his son a quick reassuring hug,
then patted him on the shoulder. "You try and get settled and get some
sleep. I have to make some more calls, then I'll stop by this evening
before I go back to the school. I'll see you tomorrow before
everything?"

Forge nodded quietly, sitting on the bed as his father left, almost
bumping into the abandoned laundry cart in the hallway.

The door swung gently closed behind Richard and a few minutes
passed before there was motion near the end of the bed. A pair
of lavender cat ears, soon followed by bright looking eyes
popped up, framed by a pair of paws. Claws digging in slightly
into the fabric for purchase, Catseye gave Forge a look in which
mingled both condemnation for leaving without her and
insufferable smugness for having managed to make it to his room
anyway. Staring at him from across the bed, Catseye waited
calmly for his reaction.

And looked that much more smug, if at all possible.

Forge glanced over, then back at the wall. "Hey," he mumbled. Seconds
passed, then realization set in and he spun around, smacking his legs
into the bed and falling face-first into the mattress. "You!" he said,
gesturing with the plastic-encased arm. "You sneaky little..."

Try as he might, Forge was unable to contain a smile. Rolling onto his
back, he chuckled for a good thirty seconds before regaining his
breath and running his hand through his hair. "Let me guess, you snuck
out and followed me the entire way here? I should have guessed as
much. Darn tricky cat." He stuck out his tongue, kicking his bare feet
up on the bed. Looking down at the smug purple cat, Forge reached out
to scratch between her ears. "Thanks."

Catseye is better than any old ThreeGreenEyes sneak!
Anyday! Bobbing up and down for a moment as she picked the
right angle, Catseye then kicked up, landing on the bed lightly
and purring up a storm. "Mrrr!" The reply started out at the
usual volume and then dimmed nearly instantly, just in case
someone decided to walk by. She had no qualms about sticking her
nose against his throat in greeting, no matter how cold it might
be, though she was careful of his arm while making sure to
step on his stomach at least once during the display of
affection, adding clear admonishment for misbehaving amongst the
approval at seeing him. Leaving without Catseye to go to some
strange place and thinking that would work ha! Who needed to
be human to get a message across anyway?

Forge accepted his scolding with a small "oomph" of breath. "You
know," he mused while scratching the cat's side absently, "my dad's
probably going to need some support tomorrow, waiting here and
everything. I mean, I'm nervous - but so's he. Just hides it better.
Think you can watch him for me?"

Flopping down, half on the bed and half on Forge just to make
sure he stayed put this time, Catseye nodded. Carefully,
because even if she was used to it, it still wasn't quite a
normal motion for her to do as a cat. A careful inspection of
Forge's appearance followed and finally Catseye tapped his arm
firmly, before resting her chin on crossed paws. She'd been up
for far too long now without even one little cat nap. And Forge
obviously looked worn out from the worry. That meant sleep was
required.

Almost as if on cue, Forge yawned. Nearly three straight days on only
two and a half hours of sleep was catching up, even with the benefit
of his mutant power. And the bundle of nerves in his stomach wasn't
going away anytime soon, but somehow he found himself believing that
when he woke up, everything would be all right.

Four hours later, Richard walked back to the room to check on his son
before leaving the hospital for the evening. Peeking his head in, he
raised an eyebrow at the lavender cat curled up on John Henry's chest,
head tucked under his chin. With a wry smile, Richard gave a silent
wave to the both of them, turning off the light and shutting the door.