xp_logs | Log - Forge w/parents and special guest, Thursday-Saturday

Over the weekend, Forge visits his family and meets someone with a vested interest in his future. As well, some measure of closure is had with the events of the past, and a new road ahead becomes clearer.

Thursday, 10 am -

"So, have you given any thought to staying?" Cheryl Ann Forge's voice carried over the noise of the traffic and the radio. Turning away from the window, her son smiled and actually reached over to turn the radio down.

"Wow, half an hour. You'd think you and Dad miss me or something," Forge replied in a teasing manner. The returned smile from his mother helped make the stress of the past few days lighter. Rubbing his palms together, he looked through the windshield at the Dallas traffic. Even a midday morning was nigh-eternal gridlock going through the center of the city itself.

"I don't know. It's where I still feel like I belong. It's where my friends are, it's where I can - could - do something important. Something special. Now, I just don't know."

Cheryl Ann frowned, reaching out to put a hand on her son's shoulder. "And you don't think being with your friends, being with them and having them be there for you, that's not something special? I didn't think a year would be quick enough for you to take that for granted."

"Holy crap, do you and Jay share notes or something?" Forge blurted out, surprised at how much his mother and roommate were sounding alike. "I just... I don't know how I'm going to adapt. I mean, in this past year I've had the chance to do so much." Shrugging his shoulder under his mother's hand, he gave another small smile. "Necessity being the mother of invention and all that."

"I prefer to think I'm a little better than just 'Necessity'," Cheryl Ann joked back, patting her son's shoulder, then squeezing gently down to where flesh and metal merged. "Your father told me that you'd designed everything yourself. Dr. Smythe called afterwards and said that we ought to try and steer you clear of medical school, or he'd find himself out of a job the day you graduate."

The thought made Forge think, then he shook his head. "Not really an issue now. My power's gone, maybe permanently. I can't do much of anything now. Level playing field, finally."

At the convenient stop in traffic, Forge's mother slid her hand from his arm to his jaw, turning his head to look into his eyes. "In case no one ever told you, John Henry, we don't love you for what you have up here," she tapped the center of his forehead firmly, "but for what you've got in here," she placed her hand over his chest. "Me, your father, your friends - we know you're so much more than what you can do. Even if you don't."

Letting that sink in, Forge bowed his head, masking a smile. "Yeah, maybe." Glancing up briefly, he widened the smile and nodded to his mother. "Green light means go."

Stepping on the accelerator, his mother merged onto the boulevard and headed out into the suburbs. "We've made up your room for you," she said quietly, "And your father's arranged for your return ticket to be on an open date. So whenever you want to go back to school, you just say the word. You know you're welcome home for as long as you need."

Her frankness stunned Forge a little. "You're not... you're not trying to talk me into staying, are you?"

"Did you expect me to?" Cheryl Ann gave her son a sideways look. "John, we're always going to be your parents and we're always going to love you. And if you were a normal teenager, we'd be doing our best to make a good life for you. But you're not normal. Powers or not, that's just how it is. And we're still doing our best for you. Your father and I both think that's still Xavier's. So does the Professor, and so does Valerie."

Forge raised an eyebrow. "Valerie? You guys are seeing a new counselor?" His mother smiled, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses.

"No, we're still talking to Steve. Valerie is... well, you'll meet her. She's wanted to talk to you for a while." On that cryptic note, Forge's attention was grabbed by the familiar sights of the gated subdivision he'd grown up in since he'd started grade school.

"Welcome home," he breathed, wondering just how true it was.

Thursday, 1 pm -

Pale green sheets, dark forest green comforter. Wall-to-wall bookshelves, with his small desk/workbench still secreted in the corner. Everything was as he remembered it. Laying flat on his bed, Forge frowned. Something wasn't right. He looked down to realize that both his feet hung over the edge of the bed by about an inch. The right slightly longer than the left - he'd have to see about adjusting the prosthetic when...

"Dammit," he hissed between his teeth, pulling at the shortened hem of his left pant leg. The pistons and wires appeared to be normal, but somewhere in the mix of circuits and self-correcting mechanics, something was broken. And somewhere in his brain there was the key to fixing it. It was somewhat akin to knowing you'd locked your expensive Mercedes, and left the keys in the ignition. Maybe there was a chance you'd left the trunk unlocked or something, but if you wanted in, odds were high that you were going to have to break something.

A knock on his door preceded his father sticking his head in. "Hey, sport," Richard Forge announced. "Got someone downstairs I want you to meet."

Forge rocked to his feet, gripping his cane for support. "The mysterious Valerie, I take it? Not some new shrink? Come on, Dad, you promised-"

"No, not anything like that. Leonard tells me you've been making all your sessions, even after..." Richard looked uncomfortable, stopping on the upstairs landing in front of his son. "Do you... I mean, are you okay talking about it? Valerie's going to have some questions."

"You mean being kidnapped for two weeks by the most dangerous criminal on the planet and basically forced into creating a weapon of mass destruction that I ended up shooting myself in the brain with?" Forge chuckled. "I'm okay with it, Dad. I live with people who've been through worse, who go through worse on a daily basis. I can talk about it." Of course, dealing with it was another matter entirely, he thought, but that wasn't something he was ready to broach with his parents yet.

Forge noticed his mother sitting next to a woman on the couch, whose blonde hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail that fell over the shoulder of her nondescript black suit almost carelessly. In a moment, Forge sized her up. The casual smile that belied friendliness, but the set of her body was that of someone who wanted something.

"This, then, would be Valerie?" Forge asked, leaning against the bannister. "Mom's already made you the good coffee, so you've been here before. She never does that the first time we have a guest. And since today's the first I've heard of you, I'd think that there's a reason your name's never come up before today. So," he asked, "which acronym do you work for?"

Cheryl Ann looked at Valerie apologetically. "I'm sorry, he's like this."

"Just because my amazing mutant powers of invention are on the sidelines, doesn't mean I'm suddenly stupid," Forge said firmly. Shuffling over to the recliner, he slouched down and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "Miss Valerie here probably knows that, though, if that briefcase is any indication. You're not a lawyer, because Mom never dresses down if she's bringing a colleague home. And the knees of your slacks are creased like you've been sitting for a while. Long airplane flight, and you probably got in just before I did. Which makes me think East Coast, since your watch is still set an hour ahead." He nodded to her wrist, then smiled. "How close am I?"

His parents just blinked, but Valerie's smile remained immovable. "I work for the government, John. Special Agent Valerie Cooper, U.S. Secret Service." She produced an ID wallet, opening it and passing it to Forge for his perusal.

"What, I'm a threat to the President now? Wonderful," he grumbled, passing the identification back to Agent Cooper. Valerie shook her head, amusement coloring her cheeks.

"Someone slept through their government classes, didn't they? The Secret Service falls under the Department of the Treasury, protecting the President is more of a side job. We investigate counterfeiting, fraud, and other domestic threats to the American economic system. Which brings me here today." From her briefcase, she withdrew a set of documents, ones which looked slightly familiar to Forge.

"When your father applied for a patent in your name, it raised a warning flag at the PTO, and I was assigned to the case," Valerie explained. "When your first patent application at sixteen was rejected, your file was red-flagged. The Kelly laws are still on the books regarding unfair genetic advantages in patent distribution, you know."

Forge waved a hand dismissively, "Loophole. Through a proxy, I can hold a patent until the age of majority, by which time the laws will be thrown out. I already have two dozen patents through my father as my proxy, and everything's legal and aboveboard. Isn't it, Dad?" He looked over to his father, who seemed rather uncomfortable.

"If the laws are overturned," Valerie explained, "there's up to a six year turnover period, at the discretion of the PTO, and above them, the Department of the Treasury. Which means, if the law is overturned next August before you turn 18 - those patents become the property of the United States government, John. Your hard work. Think about it."

Stymied, Forge threw his hands up in frustration. "Great. Not only can I not make anything new, but you guys are taking away what I *have* done. Fucking brilliant. You want to buy me a puppy so you can kick it, too? You flew all the way from DC to tell me I'm over a barrel here?"

"John!" Richard snapped, leaning towards his son. "Give Agent Cooper some time to explain what she's here for. This is important."

Valerie nodded, opening another folder and pushing it towards Forge. "I've been briefed on the events earlier this month, and I have to say, Professor Xavier argued an amazing case. The Attorney General's staff authorized us to make this arrangement. In exchange for your legal agreement in a binding contract to testify in the event we bring Erik Lensherr to trial for his crimes, the Department of the Treasury releases any inherent claim to any patentable inventions you may design, retroactive to your sixteenth birthday. Sign here."

Silence held reign for a long moment as Forge looked from his parents, to Agent Cooper, to the documents before him. "You mean, I help you guys put Magneto away when and if you DO get him to trial, and I get this monkey off my back? Assuming I do get my powers back, no strings attached?"

Valerie shook her head. "I'm not offering you carte blanche here, John. I'm saying you get the same chance everyone else does. A complete clean slate. Tabula rasa, as they say." She pushed another folder across the table. "This part I did push for."

Forge eyed the folder, opening it, then drawing his hand back as if he was stung. Medical photographs, in livid color, rested on top of the stack of papers. Even through the obvious trauma, Forge recognized his own injuries. The dates stamped on the papers just cemented it in his mind. The rest of the papers were single-spaced reports and forms. Property damage. Insurance reports. Federal and state tax assessments. Arson investigation reports.

Glancing up at Valerie, then to his father, a feeling of panic came over Forge. "Am I going to jail?" he asked quietly. "I mean, I know this game. You tell me that you know what I did, and that there's no statute of limitations, and you hold this over my head unless I cooperate. Hell of a deal, Agent Cooper. But no. If this is what you're going to hold me to, then no." Forge sat up straight. "Shove it."

He expected handcuffs, or at least a quiet and polite shuffling of papers. What he didn't expect was Valerie Cooper reaching over to grab his shirt and yank him forward. "Cut the bravado, you little shit," she hissed. "Your parents have gone to bat for you, at considerable risk. And if Charles Xavier wasn't vouching for you, believe me, I'd never have pushed for this. But you're getting a clean slate, John. Everything wiped. Never happened. Because as dangerous as you could potentially be, your testimony can be the linchpin to putting Erik Lensherr away for good. They tell me you're a genius, kid. Do the damn math already."

Coughing as she released his shirt, Forge looked at his parents questioningly. Slowly, both of them nodded. It was his decision, and they were letting him make it.

"Tabula rasa," he repeated, putting pen to paper. "You know, you didn't even have to make me an offer," he said, squaring the papers up and handing them to Cooper. "I'd have helped put that son of a bitch away for free."

"I know," Valerie said, the trained smile coming back onto her face. "Otherwise you'd still be there with him. You're a good kid, John. You deserve a chance to do the right thing."

"Yeah," Forge replied with a smile, finally feeling good about the offer. "I suppose I do."

Saturday, 8 pm -

Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his lined denim jacket, Forge stood outside the concrete-and-brick building that stood locked before him. Two years, he thought. Leonard had said this would give him some kind of closure. To confront a physical reminder of what he had done, and to use that to move forward.

It would help if he'd even recognized the facade of his old school. Through the windows, he could see the dimmed hallway lined with grey metal lockers. The tile was new, and the entire front office area had been rebuilt, it seemed. More modern-looking, nothing reminscent of the halls he'd walked in fear and introspective despair. He could remember the old white-and-black hallway tile from every time he'd been pushed face-down in the halls by a laughing senior classman, looking to exert some power over a weak little freshman that no one gave a damn about. He knew how the metal of those lockers felt when his cheek would be pressed up against them, short punches to the kidneys until he'd cry, and they would laugh.

He remembered the click and shift of the locker door as he'd closed it, the bomb inside. And turning halfway, hearing the telltale beep, click, and split-second hiss of a spark that preceded the white heat and too-close thunder that changed everything.

More than anything else, though, he could remember the anger. The feeling of knowing exactly what could happen, and being so far beyond caring that the conseqences held no meaning. Now, with the time and distance having changed so much, the feelings weren't so much of closure, but of reopening every old wound again.

Fingers brushing the cold glass of the windows, Forge leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the glass. Feeling his leg shake, he let himself fall to his knees, lightly beating his palms against the concrete. It wasn't fair, any of it. This place had deserved everything he'd tried to do. Every person who saw what happened, everyone who knew, their implicit cooperation caused it. It shouldn't have happened that way, it should have --

Through their actions they shall show that they have not progressed. The way of evolution is change, and through our actions we will show that we are the force of that change.

Erik Lensherr's words echoed in Forge's mind, bringing with them a cold tide of horror and revulsion. He looked up into the glass, seeing his own face reflected back at him. He imagined it as in his dreams, mostly hidden behind that maroon helmet, designed to be a symbol of fear and terror. The fact that it was so easy to do frightened him.

Slowly, Forge rose, eyes not leaving his reflection. Dark and angry eyes looked back at him, telling him that there would always be those who understood his actions, who would vindicate his feelings of guilt and replace them with a world where he could ensure no one would ever suffer as he did. The situation was at its soul not that hard to imagine, moved from the suburbs of Dallas to the killing fields of Auschwitz.

Any action is forgivable, so long as it ensures a better world.

"No."

Forge looked through the glass, staring down the ghosts of two years prior.

"No," he repeated. "I refuse. You threw away your chance at a better world. You justify horror, atrocity, terror, all of it because you were hurt. You can fight for your world, Erik. I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm going to build mine."

As he stood straighter, the spectres of guilt seemed to fade away as he noticed another reflection by his, standing slightly behind him. Black suit, blonde hair. Forge smirked slightly.

"Keeping tabs on me, Agent Cooper?"

"Nope," Valerie said, regarding the school as she popped a stick of gum into her mouth. "That's the job for the geeks at the NSA. I'm just a humble Treasury agent. Really? I wanted to see what you were like without Mom and Dad in the room. Whether you really want this second chance you're getting."

Forge shrugged. "I want to see him pay for what he did, and not just to me. If I benefit as well, so much the better."

Cooper shook her head, ponytail shaking back and forth. "Not what I meant, and you know it. I'm talking about the chance you got offered a year ago, the moment you stepped into that school. Do you really want it?"

Turning around, Forge wiped a sleeve across eyes he hadn't even realized were wet. "Yeah," he said after a long pause. "Yeah, I do."

The corner of Valerie's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Then go home, kid. You know where you belong." She jerked a thumb at the parking lot, where her rented sedan was parked next to the SUV Forge had borrowed from his parents. "And I'm not talking about the suburbs."

Smiling, Forge picked up his cane and began to walk to the parking lot. Stopping, he looked over his shoulder back at Agent Cooper. "You don't just work for the Secret Service, do you?" he asked. A knowing smile was his only answer. Forge chuckled in his throat. "Didn't think so. Thank you. For everything."

As he pulled out of the parking lot, Forge dialed his cell phone, holding it to his ear. One ring and then an answer.

"Dad? Yeah, it's me. Listen... I'd like to go home. Thanks."