xp_logs | Log: Medlab Confessional (Forge, with non-cameo Paige)

Early Wednesday morning, Forge finds himself in the medlab spilling his guts to an audience that may or may not be listening.

Forge walked through the medlab, giving Dr. Bartlet a cursory nod as he checked the machines. It had become rather commonplace for him to come by in the wee hours of the morning either before he turned in or immediately after waking, depending on the day, to refill the coffee makers and run the daily diagnostics on some of his machines. Holding up a bag of Columbian Almond Roast and getting an approving thumbs-up, he filled the machine and set it to automatic.

Idly walking over to the intensive care "safe room", Forge brushed his fingers over the touch-sensitive screen, watching it come to life.

[Guthrie, Paige E.]
[Enter medical code for admittance]

The screen beeped twice quietly in acknowledgement as Forge brought up the interior of the room on visual. Paige was laying on the bed, the matte black finish of her cobalt diamond form barely discernible from the sheets, coated in black dust. Briefly, Forge touched his fingers to the screen, lingering a moment before pulling up a chair and sitting with his back to the door.

"Hey," he began speaking quietly, eyes turned towards the white-paneled ceiling. "Not that you can hear me, or that you're listening... well, I think you'd be listening if you could hear, but I'm not sure right now. Where you're at, I mean. You've probably already had a million people tell you that they know what it's like, so... yeah, you don't need to hear it again." He rolled his eyes, taking his glasses off to rub a hand over his face, feeling a day's growth of stubble.

Taking a few deep breaths, Forge chuckled slightly. "This must be what confession feels like, I guess. Bless me, for I have sinned, just trying to help folks and getting it all wrong again. I don't know if they told you that I got the sling off the other week. The new arm's up to 100 percent, so that's good. Finding that the myomers are actually a lot more responsive than regular muscle tissue, so I'm having to take things easy because I'm not used to these reflexes yet. Definitely going to want to go over the stats with you once you're back in the lab." He looked blankly at his metal palm, watching the metal fibers move as he rolled his wrist experimentally.

"I found Catseye's family," he blurted out, barely speaking above a whisper. "She's got parents. Two brothers, one younger and one older. And a real name, too. Pretty name, if you ask me. But yeah, so I broke the news to her and... well, she didn't take it like I expected." Forge sighed deeply, lightly banging the back of his head against the door. "I didn't stop and think that it'd completely turn her whole world upside down. I mean, it's like just breaking the news to someone that they're adopted when they've thought differently their whole life. I never figured it'd hurt her. I really screwed up."

Cradling his head in his hands briefly, Forge blushed for a moment, then leaned backward in the chair, balancing with his head against the door. "And... well. Then there's Jay. Everyone keeps telling me that you can't change who you are just to make someone else happy, but man... one of those things where you wish you could but you just can't, you know? It's... I don't know, it's complicated. He's been more than cool about everything, but I know he's disappointed. There really isn't any easy way to get through it, is there?"

Balancing for a moment, Forge reached out to a nearby shelf and slowly raised the chair back up, not looking at the screen, just slumping down in a dejected posture. "I miss there being easy answers. If this is growing up? Man, it sucks. Great start to the summer, huh?"

With a half-smile, Forge reached his right hand out blindly, brushing the door's smooth metal surface with his fingers. "I'm actually getting used to swimming now, though. Which I worry about, since I think Kyle and Catseye are planning on throwing me in the lake. Jay's probably going to help, although he'd never admit it. Him and his eternal war against Things That Are Fun. You wouldn't want to miss that, I know. So you're going to have to come on out eventually... when you're ready, I mean." Forge cursed at his awkward verbal backpedaling, then cracked a smile. "So, um, rumor has it before you went off to Harvard, you and Angelo broke up. I'm... um... not going to lie and say I'm sorry to hear it. And if you want to go out for coffee or something sometime, no rush, but I think my schedule's free until, like, whenever."

Sitting up, Forge saw Dr. Bartlet coming out of the observation room for some coffee, and then realized he'd been talking for the better part of half an hour, counting the awkward silences that he'd managed to turn into an art form. Standing up, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against the steel door lightly. "So come back to us already," he whispered. "Everything's going to be okay. Eventually. One of these days." Stepping away, he brushed his fingers over the touchscreen, shutting it down.

"Miss you," he breathed, almost inaudibly as he walked back into the lab.