Nathan and Forge, Monday night

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Nathan runs into Forge in the kitchen and they have a talk about last week's events. Forge has clearly been given some food for thought. Nate just needs some sleep.


He ought to head back down to the boathouse, Nathan figured. Rescue Ray's latest babysitter and catch up on the newsfeeds before he crashed for the night. But he'd been in a strangely wired mood ever since they'd gotten back from the UN, and had prowled the mansion restlessly, unable to settle down.

It had dawned on him eventually that he hadn't eaten, so he'd made a detour to the kitchen. A quick raid on the fridge was probably called for.

Forge glanced up as Nathan walked in, roast beef sandwich stacked in front of him. "Hey, Mr. D.," he said with a huge grin. "I'm guessing you saw the news today on CNN - looks like Prague's not going to just get swept under the rug. And they say the UN doesn't actually do anything."

Nathan smiled back briefly as he went over to the fridge. "'Saw the news'? Hell, I was there. Joel got us passes to sit and watch the show in the Security Council chamber. The smell of burning chickenass Czech politican was somewhat overwhelming," he said dryly, rummaging through the food he could see that was ready to eat.

"You know," Forge said around a bite of his sandwich, "I have to admit, I understand why Marius was... is upset. You guys were there and... well... people still died." He held up a hand to indicate that he wasn't finished, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "I know that you had to stay safe, I know that. And scrambling the team would have been worse. It's hard to accept, having this power to help and still things like this..."

He sighed, then gave a wry smile. "At least the bastards who caused this aren't getting away with it. Sends a signal to the world, you know. And man, that guy from... Hungary, was it? Barath? Damn..."

"... people also didn't die because we were there," Nathan said after a moment, quietly, as he closed the fridge. His appetite had just deserted him. "Quite a number of people, as a matter of fact. There was no staying safe involved." He stayed where he was, staring at the fridge for a moment until he wrestled down the brief flare of anger.

His expression was utterly composed and his voice was mild as he finally turned around. "That being said, I do appreciate the feeling of futility that must have been involved watching the news coverage." He laid both hands on the counter, summoning up another brief smile. Thinner this time, though. "I envy Minister Barath. He was as frustrated as the rest of us in the weeks before this happened, but he picked a pretty productive outlet."

Forge held up a finger as he swallowed the last of sandwich, chasing it down with a gulp of milk. "He's not the only one. I've been drafting emails and letters. For HeliX. It's... well, it's not going to be about sitting around in coffeeshops and planning dances anymore. It's got to be something bigger. People's eyes are opening now, they're not just sitting back and playing video games anymore. They're paying attention, they're seeing what's going on, and it's more than us who're mad about it." He smacked his fist on the counter, then paused and looked down at it, smiling in surprise. "We're going to get people paying attention, not just accepting when these injustices go on and saying 'these things happen'. Minister Barath's right. There's got to be an accounting."

"Oh, he'd like you, I bet." Nathan said more wryly, settling onto one of the stools. "When I first met him, he was playing 'Come and get me, because I ain't hiding' with a deranged mutant in Budapest. He and I had a very nice chat in the hospital afterwards while I was waiting for X-rays. It was interesting to be back in contact with him in all of this," Nathan mused after a moment.

"We could use some like him here," Forge mused, brushing the crumbs off his plate and washing it under the fountain. "You know, I used to think you and Angelo and the others were really wasting your time. Elpis, I mean. Lot of paper-pushing, no real action." He turned around, resting his elbows on the edge of the sink. "But you guys were there. You did what you could, and you came back with proof to show the world. You brought the truth out of there, and you didn't let this go unheard. I mean... you probably could have stopped every one of those bullets, turned the tanks into little steel pinwheels, literally changed the minds of every bigot in that place with a uniform and delusions of valor. But then that just gives them a reason to put up those walls."

Nathan opened his mouth, then closed it again, gazing at Forge for a long moment. "It's one response," he said finally, "of many possible responses. What we did in Prague, I mean. Even now, I can't look at it as the ideal response..." But then, even if they had gotten Mystique out of there, would that have stopped it? He wasn't sure, now. "It was supposed to be part of a humanitarian assessment," he said after another pause. "Why we were there, I mean. Not really political... that was Minister Barath's side of things. Making it a regional matter, only they didn't take advice very well coming from such a mutant-friendly country..."

"Some people might say that action was needed more than assessment. I... would be one of them," Forge ventured cautiously. "But I don't have a degree in international relations. I don't have experience with staring down the barrel of an armed soldier moving in on my house. I don't know what it takes to be the person doing the right thing in that situation. I thought... I still think... that more could have been done. But I don't know if it would have been the right thing."

He pushed off the counter, reaching past Nathan into the fridge to grab a can of soda, cracking it open to take a drink. "But what happened today? That much I know, that was the start of a right thing."

Leave it alone. He's admitting that he's not sure - that's an improvement over some of them. But it stung. More than stung - it hurt, and Nathan stared a bit blankly at the wall of the kitchen for a moment, thinking about what Mystique had said. "You have to know what's needed before you can act," he heard himself say finally, in a very tight, soft voice. Excuses? "Food and medical supplies don't show up in the right amounts spontaneously. And right-minded politicians... don't have the information to eviscerate idiots on the floor of the United Nations unless they know, really know, what's going on." He swallowed, rubbing at his jaw for a moment, and forced a bleak little smile. "Look, I should... give you some contact information for Istvan Barath. He's a politician, I'm not. You and he could probably have a very productive conversation."

"I'd appreciate that," Forge replied with a nod. "And you're right. I don't know enough to say what should have happened, or even that anything could have been done differently. I can't go out and save people from a tsunami, I can't rush into a burning building to get people out. I just... I'm learning how to use what I can do to make a place where stuff like what happened in Smichov isn't even comprehensible. People are scared of what we are, of what we can do. They're afraid because they've only been shown the worst of it. I think it's time to work on showing them the best."

He tipped his soda can to Nathan in a mock salute. "Kind of feels funny, me saying this to you, but - don't second-guess things. Playing 'what-if' is a waste of time. Be proud of the good you did."

Nathan's expression was more reflective, less tight, as he listened to Forge. "It's very new to me, all of this," he said finally. "The idea that something that's not direct action can do good... but that's where you get the lasting change." His smile was a little less strained. "Just remember that people change. Not ideas. You need to keep it concrete - I think that's what attracted me to humanitarian work in the first place."

A puzzled expression crossed Forge's face. "Concrete attracted you to humanitarian work? I'm kidding, I know what you mean. And yeah, the challenge is just making the right ideas stick. I imagine it's not as cool as flinging a tank across a city block with your brain, but even still, it's making a better world. It's not about what's easy," he said, the familiar phrase almost a mantra to him, "it's about what's right."

"People like Minister Barath, who do what they do in the full view of everyone... I sometimes think that must be the hardest way of all. Frankly," Nathan said, thinking about Domino's last trip, "I'll be perfectly happy to go back to doing things like making sure mutant kids in Yemen get the specialized medical care they need. At least for a while." He offered up another smile, wryer this time. "You know I can't keep my nose out of the really tricky situations for long."

"It's a calling, I suppose." Forge drained the last of the soda and tossed the can into the recycling bin before checking the clock. "And here we are at my shift of 'make sure the English Dope doesn't blow himself up worse'. Ever tried to carry on a conversation with a guy who keeps disintegrating and reintegrating into a blob of psionic energy? Thankfully he's not much of a conversationalist anyway. And get some sleep, Mr. D. You look like crap."

"Ah, tact," Nathan said, sliding down off the stool. "A lost art. Good night, Forge."