LOG: [Forge, Marius] Backdated: Decision

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Another one of Marius' short list of visitors makes it in. Forge's friendly intervention goes about as well as Jennie's and Crystal's, because Marius has already reached his own conclusion about the next step.





Forge finished making the corrections to his original notes, making sure to drop a copy in Dr. MacTaggart's inbox as he passed the medical office suite. After a few days of being told Marius was doing well and that the respirator was keeping him healthy, if not happy, Forge wanted to see for himself.

Rapping on the door of the recovery room, he opened it a crack, eyes squinting in the dim light. "Hey, Marius?" he called out, letting his eyes adjust. "How's things down here in the land of the recuperating?"

He hadn't really been asleep. Wishing he was, maybe. He'd been spending a lot of time in that state. Marius pulled his forearm away from his face and blinked in the light from the hallway, pupils contracting to pinpricks in the orange irises. The genetic signature registered before the silhouette did, though the other boy's movement sharpened the details fast enough for him once his eyes adjusted.

"Well, appear to have got the last of my skin off," Marius replied, letting his hand fall to the bed beside him. He pulled himself up slowly, the movement made a little awkward by the stiff collar of the respirator. "Relief, really. Spent the entire weekend sheddin' more bits than bears thinking on. So she could be worse."

"Huh," Forge mused, pulling over a small stool and crouching by the foot of the bed. The silhouette of the respirator gave Marius an ominous look in the half-dark of the room, and even without the lights up all the way, Forge could tell his suitemate's skin wasn't looking exactly quite human anymore.

"How're you feeling, though?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "Breathing seems to be... well, the fact that you're breathing would qualify it as better, no?"

Marius shrugged. "It goes. Similar to breathin' in a hothouse 24/7, but strikes me that's a bit unavoidable what with the whole 'vaporized sulfuric acid' bit an' that. Better'n suffocation, at least." Actually a more accurate metaphor would have been 'furnace,' but it was worse when he took the respirator off to eat. Despite the tube down his throat that enabled him to keep breathing, removing the mask was like stepping out of a warm room into subzero temperatures. The discomfort bordered on physical pain. Recently food had lost its appeal.

Awkwardly wringing his hands, Forge looked over at Marius, trying to see if anything about his friend's condition was screaming out for an obvious solution. Unfortunately, Forge's power as always tended more towards the mechanical solution than the biological, and Marius' problem was completely and totally his own body mutating beyond his control.

"Moira says that she's going to be using all the resources she's got at Muir to get to the bottom of this," Forge insisted. "I know that seems like just an empty platitude, but if anyone can help... I wish I could do more, you know?"

Marius shook his head at the look on his friend's face, the movement almost imperceptible in the darkness of the room. "You've done enough, mate. This" a gloveless hand touched the mask "more'n enough." A rasping breath, and Marius forced some of the old levity into his voice. "Funny, eh? My flatmates' trackrecord for the dramatic savin' of my life is now three for three. Again with the makin' me feel inferior bit. Annoyin' habit, that."

Humbled by Marius' show of faith, Forge just shrugged. "You helped the three of us out with Masque. What he did, you undid. That much alone, hell, I'm not bothering keeping score. We're friends, and when it comes down to it, we're as much a team as anyone who's running around in leather. Trust me, if I had to break another arm to get you back to normal, just point me in the right direction."

Laughing self-consciously, Forge paused with a look of discovery on his face. Save that idea for later, genius.

"So, Moira tells me Crystal and Jennie came down the other day," Forge quickly changed the subject. "So how hyped was she about Friday? Man, that was fun."

The other boy's head cocked slightly. "Uh, sorry, mate, no idea here. We didn't so much talk. Wasn't really in the visiting place." The screaming fight and the necessitated change of rooms being one indicator.

"Oh man, it was great," Forge went on, oblivious to Marius' confusion. "I mean, sure, I did the stupid 'ask the wrong question at the wrong time' thing, but - wow. That girl can dance. And yeah, so I thought Chinese takeout and a swing concert in the park would be cheest, but she was totally into it and - yeah."

While the last week had done much to impair Marius' ability to track -- or care about -- events beyond his room, some part of his social radar was still functioning. Marius pushed himself up a little straighter, forehead wrinkling. "Hold on, slow up. You'll have to speak slowly, I fear the crippling mutations've just overtaken my faculty of hearing. This was like a date sort of thing? You an' Jennie?"

Forge looked slightly sheepish, then shrugged and grinned widely. "Yeah. Not like boyfriend-girlfriend with love notes and mix tapes or anything, just... it was a really nice time. Granted, I assumed some stupid things about her and you and she got pissed off, but I think I recovered quite nicely. Definitely a step up from the handshake at the doorway, as well." He refrained from mentioning that the 'step up' was to an awkward hug at the doorway, but it wouldn't hurt to let Marius' mind wander a little.

"Ah, well, that's . . . huh." Marius wondered if the sudden loss of words here were due to his current stress-level or simply the sheer unreality of Forge and Jennie on a date. Neither scenario was very conducive to effective thought. Then again, why not? Forge was decent, and Jennie was . . . still not talking to him, and that was fine. He wasn't confident another encounter wouldn't just result in a repeat of Saturday. Less contact, less chance of a fight. No harm, no foul.

"Assumed things, eh?" Marius said, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I can see where that wouldn't have played well. She does have certain standards. Your confidence in my ability to interact with the opposite sex without ulterior motive is touching, by the way. Happily, I doubt that will be much of a worry from now on." He pushed a curl of hair out of his amber eyes. "But that aside -- nice one. Jen's a brilliant girl. Now insert requisite threat of severe bodily harm should you injure, offend, or otherwise damage her delicate person. Longer and more intense now that it's not just the one-off of prom. Just so you're warned." Marius' lips curled in a smile behind the respirator. "Otherwise, have fun."

"Trust me, you might be all big jock rugby guy," Forge responded, "but I'm a bit more intimidated by her than you. She passes out at random intervals much less."

Thinking for a moment, Forge took a look at Marius' medical chart, then set it down just as quickly. It may have been written in Vulgate Latin for all the sense it made to him. "So how are you feeling?" he asked bluntly. "None of the bullshit you're probably feeding the doctors or the regular visitors, tell me straight up - how bad is it?"

Marius looked him for a long moment, orange eyes held steady on his suitemate's brown.

"Well," the boy said at last, "I burned off all my skin. As a consequence my lungs no longer function in this atmosphere, an' I can only focus on things properly if they twitch." He raised his hands, rings of teeth turned towards him, and began ticking off events. "I've spent a week in Medlab, a place I sodding loathe, the last few days of which were occupied by peelin' my own face off. My shot at normal has dropped to exactly zero, every breath I take reeks of sulfur, I'm gettin' housecalls from Xavier and Samson, an' oh yeah, despite bein' stabilized at present there's nothing to say this is done with." He dropped his hands, fingers curling in his lap. "You could say I've had better months."

"Huh," Forge said gruffly, hand on his chin. "Well, despite not having a medical degree, not being a Nobel-caliber geneticist, and not currently hacking your lungs out through your ears, it looks like you certainly have a full grasp on the situation."

He leaned over Marius' bed, hands clenched into fists. "Don't you get it?" he hissed. "Anywhere else in the world, you'd have been dead by now. Dead months ago. But because it sucks for you now, you've lost faith in the people who've kept you alive. Yes, you've gone from one extreme to the other. Life throws shit like this at you, and because of who we are it'll just keep coming. When you're tough enough to walk out of here, maybe I'll build you a helmet."

Frustrated, Forge turned and punched the bedside table, sending books and paper clattering to the floor. "I'm not saying people have had it worse, because that's not relevant. What is relevant is that you're my friend, you idiot. And if you think I'm not going to bend, beat, and break the rules of science to get you better, then you haven't been paying attention."

Marius didn't move, only followed his friend's movements with that unwavering orange gaze. "I met you," he said quietly, "your power was gone. You were wrecked. The one advantage you had'd just got flushed, yeah? Thinking numb. I remember, because that stayed with me. Your power, it's part of who you are. I get that. Can see how it would be. Had it for a bit. It's a whole other world." Marius held his hand out, palm up, teeth pale in the darkness. "That would be you. Now think about this. Everything. Everything that makes your life your life. Every single thing that makes you who you are. Touching. Breathing. What you can do. Things you need to survive. The way you . . . are. Watch all that go around you, be told that's just how you're built, that's what you can look forward to from now 'til forever, an' you tell me how alive that is."

"Alive is better than the goddamn alternative!" Forge howled, pacing back and forth. "There was this kid, before you got here. He wasn't a student, wasn't a mutant. Just this kid Amanda knew, she introduced us because she thought we'd get along. And we did. His name was Charlie, fucking brilliant, man. Researched magic - couldn't do a lick of it, but he threw himself into it and I swear, I've never seen someone so alive as when he was on a roll."

Forge's face grew somber as he folded his arms around himself. "Then one day, Remy comes down to my lab. Tells me that Charlie went and slashed his own throat with a box cutter. And despite Amanda being able to nearly kill everyone around her to save Remy's life," he practically spat the man's name like an accusation, "this kid who just couldn't take it for whatever reason died. No second chance, no asking for help, nothing. He gave up. And I will be double-damned if I ever see another one of my friends fall that far. So if you think this isn't living? You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Marius."

"Give up?" Marius lowered his hand, and a hint of the old haughtiness carried even through the hollow tone of the respirator. "You think I'm one for throwin' it in, then you haven't been payin' attention. There are options. Always. But mate: I've been the sick kid before, an' I refuse to be the school charity case. I'm done. No more hospital. No more special considerations. I won't do it anymore, an' I won't ask anyone else to.

"I'm leavin'."