xp_logs | Jono and Forge, by the lake

Pre-dated due to travel

Jono returns from his trip to England and has a request for Forge. When it's refused, things escalate rather quickly.

Jono walked across the edge of the lake, balancing his weight on one large stone after the other. Heavy black leather boots weren't exactly summer wear, but it didn't matter much when you didn't sweat or really even feel heat. He could tell that the blistering sun was there, it just didn't register the same as it did before. Then again, he could barely remember what it felt like before his accident, years ago when he still had a proper face to shade from the sun.

A few dozen yards away on the docks, Forge dealt with the heat in a more direct fashion, dunking his shirt into the water and wringing it out over his head before draping it across his shoulders. He didn't notice Jono walking along the shore, intent on coiling the ropes attached to the canoe he'd taken out. A canoe on the lake wasn't the same as taking the Queen's Pride out on the open sea, but it was far enough away from the noise of the mansion to help him focus.

Jono paused at the steps to the wooden dock. He hadn't exactly been a swimmer before his mutation emerged, and he'd really had little chance to experiment after his latest attempt at solidifying as much of his body as he could. For all he knew, dunking himself in the lake might quench the psionic fire in his chest, and for a moment it almost seemed tempting.

The first footstep against the wood shook the dock enough to get Forge's attention. He glanced over his shoulder, curious expression changing to calculated indifference in a moment. "Jono," he said flatly by way of acknowledgement. "Bit warm for the black-on-black ensemble, don't you think?"

Self-consciously, Jono itched at the bandages under his faded black t-shirt. "It makes a statement," he quipped as he stood well away from the water's edge. "It's a style."

"It's something," Forge agreed, doubling the rope back on itself and quickly tying a series of nautical hitches, slipping loops of rope over his knuckles deftly. "Just out for a stroll or did you need something?"

"Right to the point," Jono said with a small chuckle. "I like that."

"No you don't," Forge contradicted. "You're trying to make small talk and you're not very good at it. Worse than I am, even, and that's saying something." He dropped the knotted rope onto the dock and turned, the sunlight reflecting off his metal limbs and flashing against the mirror of the lake. "Say what you've got to say."

Jono blinked, taken by surprise. While Forge looked a bit older, the timbre of his voice was like a completely different person. "Right then," he said, tucking his thumbs into his pockets and standing his ground. "You're the man to come to when you need something built, right? So I'm thinking you've got some ideas about, well, y'know."

"I have millions of ideas," Forge replied, a look of mixed boredom and contempt crossing his face as he turned away from Jono to lift a satchel out of the canoe. "You might want to narrow it down a bit."

Jono narrowed his eyes. You wee bastard... he thought to himself. "Something more than bandages. Emma's folks fixed up a prosthetic jaw once, I figure a genius like you would want to do them one better, yeah?"

"Your problem isn't in the idea," Forge answered without meeting Jono's eyes. "It's in your choice of wording. Could I improve on the Frost design for a prosthetic that would give you some semblance of human form? Absolutely." He held up a hand to forestall Jono's response. "But you said would I. You figured I'd just want to do it out of... what? Boredom? Altruism? Unconditional goodwill towards my fellow man?"

"Fellow freak," Jono responded bitterly. "Don't think I haven't noticed it. The way you shy away when someone looks at you. You know people stare at it, the metal. Drives you mad, I'll bet. So you understand. You understand this." Jono pointed at the black leather wrappings covering the lower half of his face.

Forge nodded sagely, standing up and hoisting the satchel over his shoulder. "You're right. I do understand. Answer's no."

Jono blinked, not sure he'd understood Forge correctly. "Wait now, what d'ye mean, 'no'?"

"It's a negative response. A declaration of contrariness. It makes a statement, I think," Forge added a smile to the words, but one that didn't reach his eyes. "Want it in Spanish? No. Portugese? Não. French? Le non, monsieur. Is it sinking in yet?"

"You fucking little tosser," Jono snarled, taking a few angry steps toward Forge. "I'm asking for your help here. A little fucking compassion would--"

"Compassion?" Forge blurted out, the stoic mask cracking for a moment. "I'm sorry, did you say you were asking me? Sounded a lot like you came down here with an assumption of entitlement. Way I figure it, you've gotten all you're entitled to from me."

"That's what this is about," Jono surmised, crossing his arms over his chest. "Paige."

"Is it?" Forge arched an eyebrow, not budging from his spot at the end of the dock. "This ought to be interesting. Go ahead, Dr. Phil. Continue," Forge insisted with a beckoning hand motion.

Jono cracked his knuckles, looking past Forge to the lake. "Year ago, I thought we had an understanding. You knew your place. Or was it that I had a face then, and you thought you didn't have a chance? That it? Now that Jono's back to being a freak you think you'll move right in, eh? It won't work that way, sunshine."

Forge stroked his goatee silently, then shrugged one shoulder, the skin around his scar stretching slightly. "You're missing the obvious point here, namely that you were a discorporated mass of psionically-charged ions for a significant portion of time. I remember it distinctly, because I happened to be the one who brought you back to corporeality. That detail might have slipped your mind, granted. What with you not being the genius in this conversation."

Psionic fire flared up between the gaps in Jono's bandages, searing glowing lines through the fabric of his shirt. He balled his hands into fists, advancing slightly. "And don't pretend you didn't enjoy every minute of it. I bloody well know what went on with you two."

"Do you now?" Forge replied with a smirk. "You're certain of that?"

"Bastard!" Jono hissed, the psionic static of his 'voice' growing louder. "You just stay away from her, you hear?"

"Or what?" Forge cocked his head in mock-contemplation. "You'll punch me? Please. You're the only person here with less body mass than me. Or maybe cut loose and blast me into oblivion? We've seen how that movie ends, sunshine. With you in little glowy glittery pieces. Might want to keep that temper of yours in check. You're leaking."

Spinning on his heel, Jono turned away from Forge, brushing his hands over his chest. Control it... he droned like a mantra, forcing himself to tamp down the anger and seal it away. He glanced over his shoulder at Forge, who was very casually removing a PDA from his satchel and looking far too satisfied with himself. "So this is where we stand, then?"

"What, on the dock?" Forge answered without looking up. "Or the bit with you coming after me with demands, then accusations, then threats? I can't remember how the stages of idiocy go, but I think you're supposed to try and bargain with me at some point."

"Sod off," Jono growled. "Look, you just go your way and I go mine. I'll stay out of your precious lab and you--"

"--stay out of your Paige?" Forge answered with a wolfish grin. "It's nice that you think you have a say in the matter. By the way, if that was bargaining? You kind of suck at it."

Jono whirled, the bandages sliding down from his face to let reddish flames spark out chaotically. "Damn you, you just don't get it, do you?" he fired back. "You tried, you failed. You've even had an extra two years to get over it! Move on!" He pointed accusingly at Forge's smug face. "If I so much as catch you--"

Forge reached out to slap Jono's hand away, stepping towards the exposed tendrils of psionic energy. "That's just it, Jono. That's what you don't understand. There's nothing to 'get over'. The relationship I have with Paige has nothing to do with you. You don't even factor into the equation. You're nothing to me. Not even relevant. What she and I have, you'll never even begin to understand."

Jono pulled back, tugging the black fabric up over his face, mentally pulling the energy back in. "You think you're the only one there, mate? There's plenty about Paige you'll never know, and that just kills you, doesn't it?"

"If that's what helps you sleep at night, mate," Forge responded. "You do still remember what sleep's like? Be a pity if that's one of those other things you can't do anymore."

Forge wasn't sure how skilled a telepath Jono was, but when the memory surged up of one particularly heated argument in the lab two years prior resulting in an even more heated kiss, laden with potential - he became acutely aware that he wasn't the only person experiencing that particular pleasant reminiscence.

Jono's clenched fist meeting his chin, however, was significantly less pleasant.

Shaking his hand loosely, Jono looked down at Forge, sprawled across the wood planks of the dock. "Never again," he hissed, a glowing spiderweb pattern of cracks dancing across the skin of his face, then sealing just as quickly. "Never."

He turned and stalked up the shore towards the house, waves of anger almost visibly radiating from him.

Slowly sitting up on the dock, Forge steadied himself with one hand while rubbing his sore chin with the other. He moved his jaw slightly, then winced in pain. Closing his eyes, he dropped back onto the wood planks, slightly moaning and wondering just who'd had the last word there.