Shadow King: Waiting Game

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott checks on Forge after his encounter with Betsy, and they discuss the situation.


The door to the Box took a moment to open, giving Forge plenty of warning that someone was coming in. Fortunately, that someone was not an out-of-her-head British ninja, but Scott, who paused in the doorway, wincing as he got a good look at Forge. "Okay," he said, "you're upright, clearly conscious... you are all right, yes?"

Forge nodded and gingerly touched the rather spectacular bruise along the side of his face. "Yeah. No concussion, just got knocked for a loop. Good object lesson in discovering the difficulties of taking care of patients who not only don't want to be hospitalized, but have eighteen different types of kill-you-dead training." He shook his head with a grimace. "I thought I had her under control, Scott. No one told me she was THAT fast."

"She is most definitely fast. And sneaky. But," Scott said, closing the door again behind him - the point of the Box was defeated if you left the door open, "she obviously didn't mean you any particular harm. Or she wouldn't have just left you lying on the floor." He offered Forge a faint, quizzical smile. "Maybe take that for what it's worth? A kick in the head is definitely better than stabbity death."

He had no idea why he was making even that weak a joke. Maybe because at this point in the week, humor as coping mechanism was about the only way to go.

"I know," Forge said with a nod. "And I have to remind myself that she's just a victim in this whole debacle. Despite it being the second time she's done a number on me while not in control of her faculties. After that mess in, what was it, Peru? With the purple butterfly... things?" Forge fluttered a hand in front of his face. "That woman's more trouble than she's... well, from what I understand, I don't need to tell you that, do I?" he added with a smirk.

"Bucking for another smack upside the head, I see," Scott said, not particularly dourly. "But yes. She was an adventure. It's pretty horrible of me, but at this point I kind of wish she'd gone for the coma, like Charles. I suppose with her it's an issue of 'been there, done that more times than I want to count', though."

"Is there something about psis' brains that just makes them inherently unstable?" Forge asked earnestly. "I mean, I'm serious - how many flashbacks and 'episodes' has Dayspring had? Jean overloaded her brain and got the amnesia after the incident at Alkali and we won't even go into the whole 'possessed by herself' time. Haller's nuttier than a case of Snickers bars, and I'd be shocked if during his life the Professor hasn't needed to lock himself in a padded room for a week's vacation."

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, then turned to type a few commands into his now-recovered laptop. "And I thought my power drove me nuts at times."

"Short answer - yes. I think it's pretty much everything about psis' brains that make them unstable." Scott leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "I don't think the human brain was actually meant to be able to do the sort of thing theirs can. In a way, they're... more different from baseline humanity than most of the rest of us. But ask yourself," Scott went on, somewhat dryly, "why there are so many of them. Or why they appear to breed true more often than not."

"A frightening thought," Forge agreed. "Just look at Rachel. So have you and Jean thought about children?" he asked, looking at his computer screen.

Scott took a moment to be glad he'd left his coffee sitting on Amelia's desk. As it was, a kind of involuntary cough/sputter escaped anyway. "Um... there has been thinking. And talking. But I'd make a terrible father." Wait, had he said that aloud? "I mean, there are -considerations. You know."

"Well, duh," Forge answered without looking up. "You and Jean both have incredibly busy lives. There's no way you could really balance a family on top of the school, the X-Men, everything else. There simply aren't enough hours in the day."

The part of him that wanted to go Yes, exactly! also made another part of him feel more than a little guilty. Because while it was a valid point, there was a lot more to it than that, as some of the talking he and Jean had done had revealed.

"Well," Scott said, a bit more crisply than he'd intended, "either way, not something I think requires much thought until my wife stops thinking she's eleven. Speaking of which, that doctor Moira had such hopes for in Germany really has no clue. He wouldn't even make a suggestion."

"Who thought it was a good tactical idea to send every telepath we have into Cain's brain?" Forge asked. "I mean, do we even know anyone who can get in there and fix the wiring, so to speak? Or are we hoping that if Remy and company can get to Professor Farouk and..." He paused, not wanting to think of what tactics that particular group would use to resolve the situation. "Well, does anyone have any reason to think that'll set things right?"

He held up a finger, ticking off points. "We're down all our telepaths. That means we're handicapped if we need to go into the field. It means Cerebro's just a big round racquetball court. Jesus, Scott. We've had an entire area of resources wiped off the board in one move."

Scott's expression was very still for a moment. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't wondered just what Remy's group might do if they found Farouk in Madripoor - it was one of the reasons he'd taken care to mention to Wanda that some telepathic wrongdoing took active undoing. He only hoped she'd pass it on and they'd keep it in mind, because as it stood, there wasn't much else he could do right now.

"Charles made the decision," he said after a moment, more quietly. "He didn't explain, but he must have had reasons, to pull in Nathan and Betsy as well - Jean and Haller were obvious choices. And the magicians have a window onto the astral plane as well, so we're not cut off completely. If they can find Farouk, and get a better idea of what's going on... well, we need a strategy, that's the problem. Right now no one's got one, because of the lack of information." He gave Forge a very slight, forced smile. "Trust me, I'm not liking this sitting around either. But the best thing we can do is to keep pursuing treatment options for the telepaths here. If we could even just get Charles conscious again..."

Forge thought about that for a moment. "If worse comes to worse, there's the possibility of Marius or Marie trying to absorb the Professor's abilities - but if whatever's attacking the psis gets a hold of either of them, we're down even more X-Men. Dammit!" He punched the wall in futility. "If I understood more about brain chemistry, or how psionic patterns work, or anything..." He dropped his face into his hands, then immediately hissed and cautiously poked at the bruise. "Ow."

"I don't think a temporary telepath would help. Whatever happened, it chewed up the most powerful one on earth. I would kill," Scott said, a bit bitterly, "to know how it took Charles by surprise. He's not the Pope, and I know he's not infallible, but still."

"Something or someone that could beat the Professor at his own specialty..." Forge mused. Then again, perhaps sending Gambit and his crew in was the right solution. Some knots couldn't be untied -only severed. If it came to that...

"I suppose it's back to the sit-and-wait game, then," he said listlessly as he turned back to the laptops. "Hopefully we'll hear something soon."

"Yeah." A shiver ran through the walls and floor, rattling Forge's equipment, and Scott sighed. "Nathan again. Which reminds me, I should go do the daily rounds." He pushed himself away from the wall. "Next time, call for reinforcements? When it comes right down to it, there's probably a tiny, sick part of me that doesn't really mind knocking my ex around a little if need be."