Log: Forge and Paige, late Wednesday night/early Thursday morning

[x-forge.livejournal.com]

While hiding out in the lab from the war zone in his suite, Forge gets a surprise visit by his lab partner who makes sure he gets some rest. Sleep is less than good, and a rather damning confession is made.



Forge blinked again at the screen, pausing to rub his eyes roughly, then another pause to swear and rub his now-sore eyes with his non-artificial hand, muttering curses under his breath. The numbers weren't adding up. Data fed into function gives predictable results based on the function. That was logic, that was incontrovertible law. That was science.

Therefore, bad results meant bad data, or a bad function. Which could only mean human error .

Sighing, Forge leaned forward, resting his forehead against the glowing screen. He tried to slow his thoughts down, to take a mental step back and look at the whole process again. Calculations of tension and velocity and shear pressure should be easy, but adding in more variables meant the functions had to be perfect, and since the laws of mathematics were static and...

Slowly as he let out a breath, Forge closed his eyes. Sleep would be good. Yes.

Starting as a pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders, Forge let them slump as fingertips slid up the sides of his neck, rubbing just there behind his ear before sliding down again. Deft hands that should be nearly solid with calluses and stained with chemical burns were instead whisper soft as they kneaded carefully at the tension in his shoulders.

Paige didn’t say anything for a moment, listening to the familiar rhythm of the lab coupled with her own breath as her thumbs made gentle circles. “I brought you a pillow,” she said, finally, in a quiet tone to match the room.

Nodding very slightly so as not to dislodge Paige's hands, Forge pushed the monitor further back on the counter, tugging the pillow under his head and leaning forward. "Your brother," he announced finally in a tired voice, "is an ass."

“There’s a cot in my office,” she observed, concentrating her efforts on a muscle that had seemed to turn into one solid mass. She knew technically it was a group office, and Forge knew she knew that, but that wasn’t going to stop her from calling it hers. She’d slept in it for long enough, after all. “I’d let you use it. With the pillow. There might even be a blanket.”

"Don' need t' sleep..." Forge mumbled into the pillow. "Jus' needed to get... mmm... space..." He was trying to keep his mind on work. Work meant not being mad at... what was he supposed to be mad at again? Oh, right, Jay. Disjointed thought processes meant... okay, definite distraction when she did that thing up by where his shoulder joined with the metal. The sensation was always odd there, a little stiff, but... there it was again.

Forge let out a small grunt, relaxing under his partner's hands. "Why're people stupid?"

Paige smiled a little. “You know, if you moved the bookshelf in the corner and put the cot there, you’d technically have more distance,” she replied, glad he couldn’t see the slight glitter in her eyes that betrayed how pleased she was with herself. “Warm, cozy distance.”

With a nod, Forge let himself be steered towards the cot, pillow hugged to his chest. "Distance, mmm-hmm. Pillow, blanket..." He smiled, looking back over his shoulder. "Comp'ny?"

“I’ll even read you a bedtime story if you’re super good,” she said with a low chuckle, one corner of her mouth lifting. “So before you ask, you already had a glass of water, and no, you don’t have to go potty.”

Sleepily, Forge leaned against the office doorway. Head cocked to one side, he took a long look at Paige for a moment. After a small moment and an almost-imperceptible flush, he gave a tiny chuckle and shuffled over by the cot. "Oh yeah, I need sleep. I was pushing twenty hours before your little brother decided to be all drama queen. And that was... two days ago. Or something."

Dragging one of the more comfortable chairs with her as she crossed the room, Paige followed him, waiting until she literally shoved him down and covered him up before putting her stocking feet on the edge of his bed for the night, ankles crossed. “It runs in the family. Blonde hair, blue eyes, brilliant and bitchy.”

Pulling the blanket over him then kicking his lone shoe off onto the floor, Forge curled up on the cot, tucking his artificial foot under his flesh-and-blood one in a habitual pose. "Jay's got red hair," he mumbled, "'n' you and Sam aren't bitchy. Nice. P'rty. You. Not Sam..." He let out a long yawn, setting his head down against the pillow. If he stretched just a bit, he could brush one foot against hers. The incidental contact was comforting, in a way that let him know that even if everyone else was insane, at least someone was going to be there who understood.

“Does he? How odd,” she remarked offhandedly, not really paying attention to the words as she watched him situate himself with a soft, absent smile. Paige let her head loll to the side until her ear touched her shoulder, cheek supported by her knuckles; this was going to hurt in a little while. Oh well. “Warm enough?”

Forge nodded, tucking the blanket around himself. Just an hour or so, he told himself. An hour or so of sleep and he'd be fine. He could maybe see if his suite wasn't so much of a war zone and Jay wasn't still calling for Tommy's head on a pike and then everything would be fine like it was supposed to be.

Before he could finish his plan, however, he let out a quiet yawn, closing his eyes and settling heavily into the cot. The screensaver of a burning holiday log gave a small flickering glow from the computer monitor, lulling him closer and closer to sleep. Gently, he nudged Paige's ankle with his foot. "Thanks," he mumbled. "For, y'know, being here."

"Where else would I be?" she responded, reaching for her cell and surreptitiously texting a quick "WORKING. DON'T WAIT UP." message up to her shared room. She looked down at the cot, lit by the flickering screen, but a snore from under a blanket was her only answer. Leaning down to tuck the blanket in around her partner's shoulders, Paige smiled to herself. Taking an extra pillow, she leaned against the edge of the desk, resting her head down by Forge's feet. She could stand to close her eyes for a moment.

**

"He has a belief, and he is right," she said, yellow eyes staring into his. "He will do what is right, even if it hurts him to do so. You know what that's like, don't you?" Yellow eyes fading to blue, red hair becoming cornsilk yellow, the mocking smile becoming one of warm friendship.

"You're not her."

"I can be."

I can settle for the lie.

**

Paige was up and awake in a flash as the cot overturned, in a crouch with her hand already hitting the light switch in a trained reflex. Her ears pricked up, hearing no sound of alarm, no noise except the whirring of the computers and labored, quick breaths from under the thrashing blanket. Quirking her mouth in a mixture of bemusement and sympathy, she tugged at the flannel blanket. Forge was having a pretty bad nightmare, the poor guy. She didn't expect a cry of near-complete terror when she tugged the blanket away, nor to have her lab partner - one of the few people she trusted implicitly, react to her with panic and scrambling into a corner.

"Forge?" she spoke carefully, recognizing the symptoms of one of his panic attacks. "It's okay. It's me, Paige. We're in the office. You were taking a nap, remember? It's been..." she glanced over at the clock with a small double-take, "Six hours. You were having a bad dream." She reached out with one hand to pat his leg sympathetically, but drew back as he whimpered and curled into a ball in the corner.

"You were having a dream, sugar," Paige repeated softly. "Just a dream. It's okay."

Forge shook his head, the panic receding from his eyes, slowly replaced by lucidity if not calm. "Not okay," he breathed, pulling the blanket around to cover himself. Shivering and sweating, he leaned heavily against the wall, unable to look at his partner. "Wasn't just a dream. I... it's..." he finally looked around at the overturned cot. Blinking slowly, he reached out to set it upright. "I'm sorry. It's nothing."

Tucking her legs beneath her, Paige shifted position, moving shoulder-to-shoulder with Forge, drawing him into a comforting hug. "Whole lot of nothing, chickpea. Want to talk about it?"

Forge shook his head, but spoke anyway. "It was in Miami. When Lorna and I were with Magneto," he said in a weak voice, hardly audible. "He kept trying to convince me what he was doing, what I was doing for him, was right."

Paige leaned her head against his, foreheads touching. "You helped get Lorna out of there, you know. Get her back to herself again. That means you're a hero, silly goose. You didn't give in."

Forge laughed bitterly, shaking his head and tucking his shoulders. "I did," he confessed. "I... there was... I didn't mean... Mystique."

The name immediately made Paige's blood run cold. She remembered how the shapeshifting bitch had taken Bobby's place - her friend - while the Brotherhood had done... best not to think of that. Turning her full attention back to Forge, she tucked a hand under his chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes. "It's okay," she said again, "you're here now. You're out of there, you're safe. No one can hurt you here, I promise. They'll have to go through me first, you know that."

"She looked like you!" he blurted out, pulling away from her hand. "And I knew it wasn't real and it wasn't you and I didn't care, I just..." He shuddered, hiding his head in his arms. "I knew it and it didn't matter. I didn't think I'd ever... I mean, I was afraid and-"

He glanced up, trying to gauge the look on Paige's face. She'd scooted an arm's length away, expression something like... shock? Disgust? Pity? Forge steeled himself, hanging his head. He deserved it all. She knew now, he could tell. And she had every right to be shocked and disgusted. He withdrew further into the blanket, closing his eyes for the inevitable accusations, the poisoned words he knew were coming.

He didn't expect soft hands on his shoulders, pulling him forward, then wrapping themselves around him so tightly he couldn't breathe for a moment. The last thing he expected was to feel her face touching his, reassuring and comforting.

"I'm sorry, Forge. I'm so sorry," was the last thing he expected to hear, and he shook his head in denial. His efforts only made her hold on tighter, forcing him to look up at her.

"I am not going anywhere, John Henry Forge," Paige ran her fingers over Forge's face, wiping the traces of his fear and shame away from unshaven cheeks. "I know. I know what it's like to feel hopeless. Lost. Like there's no way out." She pulled him close until finally he lifted his arms, holding her to him as he let himself slump against her. His body shook with ragged breaths, his forehead against her shoulder. She smoothed his hair with her fingers, leaning against the wall and holding him close. "Can I tell you a secret?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Forge pulled himself away, wiping his eyes and nodding. Paige leaned her head against her shoulder, smiling warmly at her friend. "When I was in that room, all crazy and alone and broken? I heard you when you came to visit. And I knew that no matter how far down I fell, that someone was waiting for me out there. You were always waiting, you were always here. When I thought I didn't have anything to hold on to, that was something."

Letting that sink in, Forge let out a shuddering breath, turning into a small chuckle at the end. "You, ah... heard? I didn't think... I missed you."

"I'm here now," she said, resting a hand against his cheek. "And you're here too. So if you ask me, and you should because I'm a genius, I think now is pretty darn good." When he didn't flinch away, she tugged at his shoulders, standing up. "C'mere," she ordered, pulling him up to his feet. Standing him up, she straightened his t-shirt, then wrinkled her nose. "Okay, boy genius. Shower for you. I'm going upstairs to get dressed, and I want you fresh and clean when I get back."

Forge swayed a moment on his feet, the spark of fully-awake reason awakening in his eyes, tainted with a small bit of hesitation and confusion. "You're... not mad?"

Pulling him forward by his t-shirt, Paige threw her arms around her confused partner, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I'm not mad at you, hon. But you're starting to smell a little ripe. Go get cleaned up and changed, we're going out for breakfast. Okay?" Giving him a quick squeeze, she took a few steps back, looking him over once more. "Twenty minutes?"

Waiting a few seconds, Forge nodded, then let a smile crack onto his face. "I'll drive?"

"Only if you beat me there." Paige smirked, then spun on one foot, sprinting for the stairs with Forge right on her heels.