Wednesday, Cooking Lessons.

[x-polarisstar.livejournal.com]

Forge brings the remains of his omelette to Lorna who gives it last rites. They talk about how they're coping and how they're not.



Lorna sat back in her chair and took a deep breath before hitting send on the most recent response to her tentative invitation to the mansion. A surprising number of people had dropped by for just a hello and a dessert of some kind. Not that the dessert mongering was that unexpected. Just the hellos and genuine seeming declarations that they were glad she was back. She assumed it would be more of the same when there was a knock on the door. "I'm out of apple crumble but…oh. Forge, hi." She blinked at him then stepped back out of the way, "Come on in."

Forge held up a clear freezer bag, containing inside it a brownish substance that bore more resemblance to a chunk of burnt foam rubber than an omelette. "I thought not using oil in the pan would make a healthier omelette," he offered in supplication. "No one told me it would gel up and carbonize."

"Using oil instead of butter is what makes it healthier." Lorna took the bag from him and solemnly blessed the omelette-char. "Rest in peace, you poor thing. Also...how did you cook this exactly? You can't just hold them directly in the flame, you know. It tends to get a little too crispy that way."

Forge paused, hand at his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "Oh," he simply said, staring at the bottom of the blackened lump. "I figured quick intense heat would shock the proteins into solidity. I didn't figure it'd be THAT solid." He shrugged, glancing around the mini-kitchen in Lorna's suite. "So now that you're taking visitors, does that mean we're going to get to see you walking around among the living again? I mean, I had to pull chunks of magnetized aluminum out of my own knee joint and I'm up and moving."

"Are you implying that I'm sulking out of proportion with my experience?" Lorna quirked an eyebrow at him and tossed his ill-fated omelette in the trash before hauling out a frying pan and setting on the stove. "And no, higher cooking temperatures just leave you with burned food that's still half raw. Jubilee keeps learning that same lesson. It's not going to cook faster, it's just going to burn faster." Flicking on the flame and tipping in oil was accomplished nearly without any attention at all from her.

"No to the first, gotcha to the second," Forge answered, pulling up a stool to perch and watch Lorna work. "So... how're you holding up?"

She never once used her powers as she cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them then chopped up a tomato and peppers. "I'm…well, I keep trying to say fine but I guess working on it is a better answer. New therapist and such. Obviously employing the coping through feeding others method." She paused and pointed to the flame. "See how it's not turning the metal white hot? That's good. How are you doing? You seem entirely too cheerful."

Biting his lip, Forge nodded. "Every night," he said quietly. "I'm glad I've gone back to only sleeping three or four hours. Do you know how many nightmares you can have in three or four hours?" He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I mean, I know the worst is behind me. I didn't do any permanent damage to myself, or you. I didn't kill anyone, or..." he paused, looking cautiously at Lorna. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

The flash of pain and guilt on her face was gone almost before it registered. "Hopefully it's only half as many as you can have in six hours." She sighed and tipped the eggs into the pan. "You're the reason we're out of there, you know that right? If you hadn't...Malice played with Remy. She could have done to him what she did to all those others and...what do you do to stop that? And it's so easy. I could have torn up the X-men. I didn't have any reason not to." Lorna bit her lip and applied her attention to her cooking, horrified that she'd said anything at all.

"If you hadn't been there, if it'd been just me..." Forge focused his vision on the eggs. If he didn't look at Lorna, it was easier to keep his voice steady. "I remember back when I first got here, you sat me down and talked to me about differences in philosophy, about thinking of myself as a person and not my powers. You didn't talk down to me, and you didn't condescend. We disagreed, but you made the effort." He swallowed roughly, feeling like he'd stuck one of those raw eggs in his throat.

"And then," he continued, "I saw what he turned you into. Malice. What she was doing, how she was acting. And if I hadn't seen how he was willing to use you as a weapon, to lie to you, to force that on you and just treat you like a bunch of powers and not a person..." Forge tried to look Lorna in the eye, but couldn't. Settling for focusing on her hair, he blinked away tears. "I'd have done it for him. He almost had me convinced. He almost had me believing him. Until I saw what he'd done to you."

"I, uh," she stared at the frying pan, turning the heat way down, "I forgot the cheese…can you?" It bought her a few seconds to reign in her own tears, wiping them away with the sleeve of her sweater. She tried to rally her thoughts, to explain why she couldn't give all the blame to Malice. "It's easy to believe him. He argues his point so well. You just…even reading the manifesto you don't really get it." Lorna shivered. "He wanted me to believe him, I think. Really wanted me on his side without the collar. Malice believed him absolutely. And she...really couldn't without me. After Remy...I don't know that I wouldn't have. I certainly don't feel like I belong here anymore. I quit the team entirely, you know. Or, well, I told the COs I was quitting. They never responded but I'm assuming that they accepted it."

Forge nodded. "Before everything, Ms. Blaire asked me about an assistant role, doing the tech and mechanical stuff they need. Mr. D's psimitar, Mr. Summers' visor - she caught me in the hall the other day and asked if I still wanted it. I mean, after all that, they still trust me." He managed to look up at Lorna as he handed her the cheese. "She's your best friend. I'm sure she still trusts you. Even after... you know."

"She comes by. I know she doesn't blame me but trusts? I can't ask any of them to trust me. I can't even trust myself." She looked at him and nodded, "You'll be good at that. They can always use backups who they don't have to worry about risking in a fight." She lifted the pan and with a quick motion, flipped the eggs over to the other side then added in the other ingredients. "How are they treating you? Everyone, I mean, not just the staff."

"Better than I thought I'd deserve," Forge admitted. "I mean, it's not like I was Captain Charisma BEFORE I left, but no one's throwing stones my way and declaring me a traitor that's going to wipe out the entire school and sell out to the Brotherhood." He shrugged, leaning in close to smell at the eggs. "Now I'm just getting 'crazy and stupid', which is actually kind of a fun image to work with."

"Plate." Lorna pointed at the appropriate cupboard and shooing him away from her cooking. "Why would you be stupid and crazy? Do they think that they'd have chosen any differently if they'd had someone threatening their life? The only one who really deserves the traitor label is me. You're not the one who compromised security."

"Hello? I'm the guy who got surprised by someone with bright green hair," Forge said with rolled eyes as he handed Lorna a plate. "You at least got kidnapped by a pro. I got kidnapped by the cook." He managed to look disgusted before breaking out in a grin. "You know what, though? I remember what you told me that first day there. You said not to try and outsmart Magneto. That wasn't the hard part. You were right, he's crazy. It was easy to fool him. I knew the hard part would be trying to fool you."

"Chef, brat. I didn't spend seven years in classes to be called a cook." She slid the omelette onto the plate and handed it back. She paused, studying him for a moment. "When I had the choice, I stayed away from you. I figured the less I knew about what you were doing the better. Magneto seemed to agree because he let Malice make her own decisions about it. But that means I don't know what they did to you."

Nodding, Forge carefully cut into the omelette. "I knew that if you watched too close, you'd realize I wasn't buying in, and then Malice would know, and we'd both be dead. So I had to play along whenever she was around. Because, you know, you would have known. She didn't." He took a mouthful, nodding and speaking around his food, one cheek stuffed like a chipmunk. "Plush, she ushed too much shil..." he swallowed. "Cilantro. Seriously. Everything tasted like an herb garden."

Lorna gave him a strange look. "She could only use my abilities. Magneto likes cilantro. That's why it was in everything. Though, I'll remember that you don't like it from now on." She sighed, "The difference between us…if there even was one, was so thin that it didn't even really matter. She pushed us to the limits but she couldn't change what I am. That's why I've been up here, hiding. Malice couldn't have made a killer of me if I wasn't already capable of it."

Forge thought on that. "I think everyone's capable of it. I tried. Make up any excuses you want about teenage alienation, stress, temporary insanity - I tried to do a horrible thing, and I am so damn lucky to have failed. And that's going to stay with me forever. So if you think I'm going to judge you for what you're capable of, eh." He shrugged. "Like people keep telling me, 'John Henry, you're so much more than your powers'. Well, Lorna... whatever your middle name is...you're more than just being capable of being a killer."

"Yes, I also make a great omelette," she said dryly and sipped from her coffee mug. "Eileen. Are you still hungry? I can make something else. Not eggs though. I'm out of eggs again."

Smirking, Forge folded his hands in front of his chest in the gesture reminiscent of Dr. Leonard Samson. "Now Lorna," he said in a mocking voice, "this is what we call 'an avoidance issue'. Tell me how you really feel." Shaking his head, he laughed quietly. "Or not. Anyway, so yeah, now you know you could be a pretty amazing killer. But you aren't. Which I think is more important. But then again, I'm a crazy and stupid seventeen year old who burns omelettes."

"Len gets threatened with hurled coffee mugs when he does that to me, John Henry. Don't make me waste my good Jamaican on you." She sipped it from her mug again, smirking slightly. "I think you burn omelettes so that people will cook for you and you can spend more time playing with your toys."

"I think you may be onto something there," Forge replied quickly, reaching for the mug Lorna slid his way. Draining it in one long gulp, he shook his head, feeling the caffeine hit his system. "But I'm a genius, and I think you're better than Malice, or Magneto, or any of them. You're more than they wanted you to be, same as me. We won, you know. Bomb dropped, we walked away free, and they didn't get what they wanted. Take some pride in that?"

Lorna twirled one finger in the air. "Pyrrhic victory as far as I can see. We're basically where we started but worse off for it. Don't…don't tell anyone. But I can't wait to get out of here. It's not really comfortable me here."

Forge nodded. "I mean, yeah. You've got the staff suite, but it is kinda cramped."

"Not quite what I meant." She made a face at him. "I still haven't talked to my parents, you know. I mean, I called them and they know I'm okay but…I can't tell them what happened. More coffee?"

"Aha," Forge said, pointing a finger at Lorna. "Your parents. Not your aunt and uncle, like Malice kept saying."

"They're my parents even if biologically they're my aunt and uncle." She shrugged. "I've had a couple years to get used to the idea that I'm adopted. Magneto threw me for a loop at first but biology doesn't really count for much. Wanda's got the same supervillian for a father and she hasn't gone crazy and tried to destroy the world recently."

Forge began to try and explain the impossibility of that to her, but kept his mouth shut. She would understand in her own time. "Good point," he said, dodging the subject. "My mom took over the PTA once when I was in third grade. You don't get between that woman and a bake sale."

Lorna smiled. "Sounds like my kind of lady." She glanced at the clock. "I'm not throwing you out or anything but I need to start dinner."

Inwardly, Forge gave a sigh of relief at dodging the awkward un-revelation. Another time, perhaps, he thought. "No problem. I think it'll be a while before I give omelettes another try, though. I'm pretty sure I can't carbonize corn flakes."

"Usually I'd scold you and tell you that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. In your case, I'm going to just ask that you not take that as a challenge to try. Just accept that corn flakes are flammable and move on." Lorna cleared his plate and dumped it in the sink to wash.