Log [Forge, Catseye] Old news...

[x-catseye.livejournal.com]

Evening. After this discovery, Forge goes to find Catseye to share his findings. Her reaction isn't exactly what he expected, but then again the news he had to share was rather unexpected as well.

It was too muggy to go outside at the moment, still, and it wasn't all that interesting without the sunlight to sprawl under. That and the air was heavy and was redolent with the smells of water and rain, something any cat knew well enough meant a thunderstorm might happen soon. Or pass by, if it was so inclined. Either way, Catseye wasn't about to go outside only to be drenched - one got wet on purpose only and that was that. And this particular spot was nice and warm, perfect for an evening of dozing away.

It was also remarkably quiet for once in the room, though Catseye would never have admitted that she'd picked it specifically because it was usually invaded by one set of people or another in the mansion. For the moment though, her thoughts consisted mainly of fitting herself comfortable on one of the cushions of the sofa, her slightly larger than usual cat frame taking possession of the item quite thoroughly so.

Clutching a set of papers in his hand, Forge leaned against the wall outside the TV room, waiting until he was certain that Catseye was the sole occupant. Waving Kyle off with a vague excuse to meet up later, he stepped carefully into the room, leaning on the edge of the couch and looking down at the purple cat.
 
"Hey," he began, "I've got a question for you - kind of a weird one, but I think it's important."

"Mrrr?" Twisting about like a pretzel, Catseye looked up at him lazily for a moment. Eyes slowly narrowing at the expression Forge wore, one she'd not seen often but had learned to recognize, Catseye finally stretched out once, carefully - and then shifted to human shape, the cushion she'd been curled up upon somehow ending up trapped against her as she curled limbs up about it. "ShinyBitsBoy has That Look."

Forge took a deep breath, focusing on the paper before him, as if it held simpler answers than it did. Finally he propped a leg up on the edge of the couch and looked down at Catseye. Idly, he wondered what she must have looked like as a child, and shook his head to clear his thoughts.
 
"Okay," he said, putting on a smile. "Quiz time. Does the name Gabrielle Smith mean anything to you?"

A slow blink answered him, Catseye giving the question all the thought she could muster for it. And within two seconds, a shake of her head, lavender hair swishing about in response. "Noooo. Catseye has never heard that before." There wasn't the slightest glimmer of recognition in her eyes at the name and she waited patiently for him to get to the point. If he took too long, she had a cushion at hand and could always pummel him with it.

"See, that's what I figured. There's two things that I found really interesting about her. You see," he held up one sheet of paper bearing a photocopied stamp from the New York Hospital system, "according to public record - that let me tell you, was a bitch to track down and get - she died sixteen years ago, give or take a few months. SIDS - that's Sudden Infant Death Syndrome." He cleared his throat, suddenly finding words choking up. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was a mistake - no. He'd come this far, this was important.
 
"The other thing, and here's the real clincher," he paused, "... she's you."

This time, Catseye didn't blink at all, staring at him instead in a fashion cats had perfected centuries past. "ShinyBitsBoy is wrong." It was the epitome of common sense, of course. In no way could he be right. No way at all. "Catseye is a cat." Poking a claw tipped fingernail at the paper, she smiled up at him merrily, a sudden obscure need to reassure him welling up. "Catseye can read well now, and the paper says this is a human baby."

The smile faded a bit, suddenly - the awareness of something which affected humans differently than her suddenly piercing through. "Catseye is sorry the baby died, though."

Forge thrust another paper at her, the birth certificate he'd printed out. "Gabrielle Elizabrth Smith, born August 1st, 1989, to Harold and Rebecca Smith. You see these?" he tapped the baby-sized handprints on the paper. "Fingerprints. You learned about them in Dr. McCoy's science class, remember? They never change. I checked. They're yours. This is you."
 
He poked again at the paper. "Caudal appendage, it says. That means tail. You were born with a tail. You were born a mutant, Catseye." He crouched on the edge of the sofa, waving the birth certificate to emphasize his point. "Sixteen years ago, they didn't know how to categorize it in a small hospital. But facts are facts, this is who you are."

Not wanting to look down at the papers, the strange gleam in Forge's eyes arresting her attention, Catseye shook her head slowly. "Why is ShinyBitsBoy doing this?" Fear, nameless and unfocused, started to curl up within, slowly. "Catseye cannot be that baby. Catseye was born a cat. Catseye was raised a cat." Breath suddenly unsteady, she finally blinked once - confusion now piercing through as well. "Besides!" suddenly she reached forward for the paper, finally looking at it closely. "The paper says the baby is dead. Catseye is not! Catseye is fine. So… the paper made a mistake. The hospital. The SickPeoplePlace." Nodding at that, she handed him the paper again, the cushion falling to the floor forgotten.

"Catseye thinks that is the only thing that makes sense." The tremble to her voice she ignored, as she did the fact that she'd spoken too loudly.

Forge slid onto the couch, holding the small piece of paper that Elspeth had given him when she'd come by the mansion months ago. "This was written fifteen years ago, right after the death certificate. A missing cat. A purple cat. This is how I found everything. Someone... she was looking for you, and she brought this by." He tried to make his voice sound reassuring. "If you were born with a full physical mutation... maybe you could make the change as a baby. You know, into a kitten. And..." he swallowed once. "You know how kittens wander, you've said it yourself. Humans can't always watch out for kittens like cats can. Maybe you... maybe you wandered off as a cat, and found other cats?"
 
He produced a copy of a newspaper, obviously reproduced from a badly scanned original. "There was a big snowstorm that winter, not too far from here. Some neighborhoods were totally snowed in for weeks. When things got back to normal, the Smiths told everyone their baby had died a crib death. I think..." he slowed his speech down, trying not to rile Catseye. "I think they didn't know what happened, or what to do. So they assumed the worst, that you'd wandered off into the cold, and when they couldn't find you..." He handed her the paper, with the child's drawing of the purple cat.

She looked down at the paper, attention drawn to in inexorably, held in place by the clumsy little drawing. The childish hand had painstakingly written out the now faded message, parts of it still readable. 'Lost - small purple kitten.' Taking in unsteady breaths, the paper wavering before her eyes in watery patterns, Catseye deciphered the rest of what could be read. 'I miss her. Please call-'

The rest of the words were lost as she looked up, blinking rapidly. Taking a wild swipe at her cheeks, Catseye kept shaking her head at him, backing away until she nearly fell off the couch, somehow managing to end up in a standing position, staring down at Forge intently. "No. No, Catseye cannot be that baby. There was… some other purple kitten! That was not Catseye!" She hit the frame of the doorway at those words and paused for the merest of moments, shaking like a leaf, voice fading to a whisper suddenly. "Not Catseye." A small, wounded sound escaped her. "Not. Was not."

Forge stood up, keeping a respectable distance. He wasn't sure of how Catseye was taking the sudden news, but best to get it all done at once. "You were born to human parents. A human family, too." He pointed to the Lost Kitten poster. "I checked. Rebecca and Harold Smith have two sons, Evan and Harrison. You have brothers, Catseye. A mother and father. A family." Cautiously, he took a step forward, extending a hand to her.
 
"I know it's a lot to try and take in at once, especially when you've thought different all your life. But... this is you, this is where you come from. I felt you ought to know."

The only response was another of those unintelligible sounds, one hand skittering across the doorframe to the other side, her body finally twisting around to follow as well. Words weren't strong enough to deny what Forge was telling her, somehow - human words for human matters. And though Catseye wanted to explain to him how wrong he had to be, how he couldn't possibly be right - how everything he was saying defied everything she was… she was left with a tongue-tied silence and no words at all. Save for two, as weak as they felt, suddenly, terrifyingly so.

"Not Catseye."

She turned at that, darting into the hallway, the one normal response left to her hitting hard. Seeking the shape most familiar to her, the one best known and loved, the girl shifted to cat in mid run, racing down the hallway and towards the backdoor as quickly as she could, darting around anything and anyone in her path blindly.

Forge found himself racing down the hallway after her, finally slowing at the end of the hall when he realized he'd never keep up with the cat. "But... they're your family..." he whispered quietly. With a groan, he crumpled the papers in his fist, slumping down with his back against the wall.
 
"That could have gone better."