xp_logs | LOG: Father's Day in March

Time: From about 9am Sunday to that afternoon. Richard Forge comes to the mansion to check up on his son. Various meetings and conversations reveal more about the man than his son has let on, or even that the younger Forge believes.

For the second time, Richard Forge brushed his long dark hair over his shoulders, walking into the foyer of the Xavier Mansion. Adjusting his tan blazer and blue power tie, he looked over at his son. "It's good to see you, John," he started, pausing briefly to take in the younger Forge's appearance. "You've let your hair grow, I see. And taken at least some of the metal out of your face."

Forge scowled, closing the front door behind his father. "Stuff's changed," he said simply. "Professor Xavier's waiting for you in his study. It's this way."

"I believe I remember where it is," Richard said curtly, following his son down the hallway. "When your mother and I brought you here, remember?"

"Stuff's changed," Forge repeated, "We've had an interesting few months." Emphasis on the 'we', Richard noticed. Stopping at the door, he placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"It shouldn't be too long, I just want a few words with the Professor, and then I'm told Doctor McCoy wants to speak with me in the library. After that, maybe you could show me around?"

Forge raised an eyebrow defiantly, having just finally become accustomed to not taking orders from his father. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he mumbled. "Just have Dr. McCoy page me when you're done. I'll be down." With that, he spun on his heel and walked away.

"Mister Forge?" Xavier's voice rang out from the study. "Please come in. There is much I believe we have to discuss."

****

Hank had arranged a little carefully for this meeting. He'd even put on more than the bare minimum of clothing - jeans and a t-shirt, with an open button-down shirt over the top. No shoes, though, and his large, furry, clawed feet were up on a footstool and clearly visible. He'd even donned his glasses to read - a large, beautifully bound volume of Shakespeare's Tragedies - and was sipping tea from one of the large, standard issue Xavier School mugs. All in all, he felt he produced a pleasing set of contrasts - casual dress, clawed toes, Shakespeare, and the official mug - that would make it difficult for the elder Forge to make a snap judgment about him. From Forge's non-descriptions, he seemed like a man who liked to know where he stood, and to know What Was Going On.

Hank had no intention of making it that easy.

He looked up as the door opened, and smiled a wide, toothy smile. "Ah. Mr Forge, isn't it? Delighted to make your acquaintance." He carefully inserted a bookmark, put down his mug, and then rose to offer an enormous blue hand for a handshake. "I'm Doctor Henry McCoy."

Richard Forge walked over and shook the doctor's blue-furred hand, not bothering to mask his obvious stunned surprise. "Richard Forge," he replied with a grin. "Please pardon my staring, you're the first ... well, you're the most visible mutant I've had the privilege to meet face-to-face. Ironically," he added as he took a seat, "you're possibly the one person here I know anything about. While most kids were reading comic books and watching baseball, John was checking out your books from the local library and studying."

Hank smiled, pleased. "Really? I had no idea." He waved the other man to a seat, returning to his own. "I'm not surprised, though.... he's an extraordinary young man. He absorbs knowledge like a sponge."

"He was like that, even as a kid," Richard answered glibly, "Even before his... what do you call it, manifestation? He was always reading and learning before he started building things."

He folded his hands on his lap, looking pensive for a moment before speaking. "I'm given to understand that my son is coordinating his independent studies through you. It's a rather unique arrangement, I must admit, but John is a very unique boy. I trust he's not been too much trouble?"

"He's been a great asset." Hank sipped his coffee again, smiling. "He's diligent in his studies, he's put a lot of work into his extra work... and he's done a great deal besides. He's even helped out in the Medlab, more than once... our music teacher, Ms Blaire, may well owe her life to him."

Richard nodded, with a barely-masked look of astonishment. "Professor Xavier explained that to me, yes. It's... amazing, really. I don't have the words to express how I..." Pausing, lost for words, Richard rested his chin on his fist briefly, then continued.

"You, this school... you offer my son so much more than his mother and I can. Try as I might, I could never give him this kind of outlet for his gifts. Nor, sadly, could I seem to reach him as you seem to, Dr. McCoy."

Hank nodded. He'd rather been prepared to dislike Forge's father, but.... well.
"We have a great deal in common," he said seriously. "I can't say we're exceptionally close, or anything, but... I enjoy working with him, and teaching him. And trying to challenge him, although that really isn't easy."

Nodding, Richard finally loosed an honest smile. "John has always been a... challenge, for even the most patient parent. I have to admit, when he started exhibiting signs of his intelligence, I was somewhat intimidated. And then... he just started to become more distant. His mother and I thought it was a phase." Richard's voice was heavy with regret and no small amount of self-blame. "I would suppose it says little for our parenting skills that neither of us saw the... danger signs, you could say. Before it was too late."

Hank nodded. "I was... fortunate, when I was his age," he said softly. "My intellectual prowess won me no friends, in high school, nor did my... unusual appearance. My fur and claws hadn't yet appeared, but my general shape was much the same. Unlike Forge, however, I had the advantage of living in a small town in the Midwest and being built like a small tank. As soon as I prostituted my intellect to play football, my troubles were over."

Richard raised an eyebrow at Hank's tale. "Would that I could ever have helped John ease into sports. I think the team aspect would have helped him socialize, but he just never had any interest. Yet here... Professor Xavier tells me he's quite the socially active young man. I'm... I'm happy to see it," Richard admitted, "I just wish... it's somewhat galling to see this school accomplish in five months what his mother and I couldn't in sixteen years."

Hank smiled a little. "He's a teenager. They're positively renowned for not listening to their parents. I think it's in the manifesto." He sipped his coffee again. "Here at the school, he actually has intellectual peers, or nearly so. I suspect being able to talk mechanics and cybernetics makes it easier... especially when it comes to talking to girls." He grinned. "Which he is actually doing, and I think it's a very good sign."

That particular tidbit made Richard almost drop his teacup with a double-take. "Excuse me? We are talking about my son, yes?"

Hank grinned. "And more than one!" he said proudly. This particular aspect of Forge's progress pleased him enormously.... it seemed like such a good sign that his confidence was improving. "He's had coffee with Paige, his lab-partner... purely on a friendly basis, but still a step in the right direction. And he's shown a brotherly fondness for Danielle, and he and Catseye - a feline mutant - seem to get along very well. He is actually talking to girls. I'm very proud of him."

Richard shook his head, smiling. "It seems that the boy I brought here five months ago has grown quite quickly. It's amazing how they do that. Do you have any children, Doctor?" he asked earnestly.

"No, I don't. I'd like to, but... well. It hasn't happened yet." Hank smiled. "With all the students around, though, I do sometimes feel as if I do... a lot of them, who don't listen to a word I say, and don't like having a curfew."

Nodding in understanding, Richard set his tea down on the low table. "From the way John Henry speaks... I believe he considers you in that manner as well. If not parental, then definitely that of an older sibling he looks up to and admires." He paused, brushing his hair back over his shoulders in a self-conscious gesture. "Would it be too blunt to ask you to ... I'm not sure how to phrase it... watch over him, for lack of a better term? He's at that age where young men try to discover who they are. I try to help, yet... there's no simple way to explain why a father and son just can't connect."

Hank blinked. "I would be honoured," he said, very touched. "And I will do my very best. I'm very fond of Forge, and would be glad to help him any way I can." And Forge, it seemed, was fond of him. It was hard to tell with him, sometimes, and Hank tucked the knowledge away to be happily gloated over later. "He's a good kid, Mr Forge. He's done a lot to help others... and not always in emergencies. He spent hours building a scuttling MiniSquid toy for Catseye, just because he knew she wanted one."

Richard reached out to offer a hand to Hank. "Thank you, Doctor McCoy. It means a great deal to both Cheryl Anne and I that John can find himself a place where he belongs. I won't pretend it's easy on us, not having him with us at this point in his life, but that bridge can hopefully be mended with time."

Hank reached out to shake the offered hand. This had gone a LOT better than he'd expected. "He's at what is generally referred to as 'a difficult age'," he said reassuringly. "I'm sure that he'll settle down in time... especially now that he's able to pursue his talents, and has peers who understand and accept him. It helps a lot, at that age."

"At any age, Doctor," Richard said softly, "At any age."

***

"And this is where I have, um, history and humanities. And the music
room's further down the hall that way. It's really nothing special,
you know. Just classes." Forge spoke quickly, walking a step ahead of
his father down the halls of the school.

Richard Forge followed his son, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Music?" he asked with amusement in his voice. "You never mentioned
any particular musical bent. Is it mandatory here?"

Forge ran a hand over his face in consternation. "It's either that or
art. I'm, um, learning to play the piano. I think I'm getting the hang
of it. Getting a solid B right now," he looked quickly over to his
father, "but I can pull that up," he quickly insisted.

Richard stopped by a door, cocking his head slightly. "Mr...
Dayspring? He's one of your teachers? This is his office, do you think
he's in?"

Forge nearly tripped over his own feet. "I, er, I mean... he's not all
that interesting," for a telepathic, telekinetic, former mercenary,
mutant superhero, Forge left unsaid. "I can show you where the
kitchen and my room are and-"

Without another word, Richard knocked gently on Nathan's office door.

Nathan, quite engrossed in the latest batch of files Morgan had sent
him from Galicia - they'd managed to pull quite a bit of data from the
computers of the last safehouse they'd taken out - hadn't heard Forge
and his father coming down the hall, so the knock at the door startled
him. He saved the files and closed them, then took a deep breath as he
got up, donning a determinedly amiable expression.

"Come in," he called.

Richard stepped inside, Forge a single step behind with a this is
not my fault look pasted across his face. Smiling politely,
Richard stuck out his hand. "Professor Dayspring, I presume? I'm
Richard Forge, John Henry's father. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Forge tried to simultaneously glare at his father and think as loudly
as he could small talk, please make small talk and then make him go
AWAY hoping that Nathan would pick it up.

"Likewise," Nathan said, shaking the man's hand firmly. He was more
than aware of what Forge was so determinedly thinking at him, but
really, it had been a shit of a week and he thought he could be
excused for being a little perverse. "Would you like to sit down?" He
gave Richard his best friendly grin. "I'm afraid my fiancee stole my
coffeemaker, so I can't offer you a cup..."

"Oh no, that's all right," Richard dissembled, taking a seat across
from Nathan. "Stirs the blood a bit too much anyway. My son has been
telling me some interesting things about you, Professor Dayspring."

Forge instantly sat straight up in his chair. "No I haven't!" he
insisted, speaking like a rapid-fire machine gun. "Nothing at all
interesting in the slightest about Mr. Dayspring, nope. He's a normal
everyday guy. Upstanding citizen. Real role model."

Richard looked over at his son and raised one eyebrow, then turned
back to Nathan with an apologetic look. "He's mentioned that you're
engaged to the head medical doctor here. I actually met my wife
through work as well, wish she could have come along on this trip.
Tell me," he asked, with a nod to Forge, "is he this outspoken in
class as well?"

"Occasionally. Usually when he's passionate about the subject under
debate." Nathan sat back down, smiling benignly. "I could wish he
applied some of his obvious enthusiasm for Humanities in History
class, as well, but he's very diligent in both classes."

"Yes, Professor Xavier and I went over his transcripts."

At this news, Forge's head shot over to stare intently at his father,
as if this was sudden news. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
With a slight quirk of the lips, Richard continued,

"I'm very proud of him, you know. He seems to be making every effort
to overcome some of his ingrained habits." With that, he turned to his
son and smiled widely. "What? You think I'd send you off here and not
ask how your schooling was going? You're pulling the best grades of
your life, John. This school seems to suit you."

Forge's mouth kept moving, as if he was trying to say three things at
once, finally settling on "Wait, you're proud of me? When...
and when... and when did this suddenly come about?" He looked over to
Nathan for guidance, then back to his father. "Pardon me if I'm a
little stunned, sir, but you've never exactly, um... yeah, can we talk
about that later?"

Richard nodded, turning to Nathan again. "I like to see my son
overcome challenges, especially ones that aren't exactly catered to
his gifts. You seem to have brought that out in him. That's the mark
of an excellent teacher. Can I ask where you studied?"

"The University of New Mexico," Nathan said, hoping to hell that
Richard would take it on faith and not do any digging. It would be
awkward to explain why his degrees were actually under the name
'Nathan Morrow'. "Did a basic degree in history and a master's in
modern history and international relations before I did my law
degree."

"Law?" Richard smiled, nodding his head. "I went the same route,
bachelor's in business and pre-law at Bozeman, and my MBA and J.D.
from Texas State. Part of me hoped that John would be interested in
law," he missed the immediate eye-rolling from Forge at that
idea, "but he seems content with engineering. Given his gifts, I can
hardly argue with that."

Checking his watch, Richard stood and offered his hand to Nathan
again. "I believe that John Henry was going to finish showing me
around, but it was very nice meeting you, Mr. Dayspring. Again, thank
you for challenging my son - it's not an easy thing to do."

Nathan stood and shook his hand again. "You're welcome. Although I do
have to say that your son rises very willingly to a challenge once
it's presented." He gave Forge a brief smile. "Just a question of
getting his interest, really."

"Like I said," Richard responded, with slightly less of a smile.
"That's not always been an easy thing to do. Have a nice afternoon,
Mr. Dayspring."

***

"I can't believe you said that!" Forge paced around his room, throwing
his hands in the air. "Proud of me? Since when? Since you don't
have to see me for five months? Hell, I know that's made things easier
for me-"

Richard held his hand up, interrupting his son. "I understand you're
angry, John. But I am still your father, and I think you can give me a
small amount of respect and let me explain?" Removing his tan blazer
and hanging it over the edge of the sofa, Richard Forge sat down and
motioned for his son to do the same.

"I understand that you're angry about a great many things. Things that
happened to you, happened even before your accident. I can't say I
blame you. And if you want to be angry at your father for not seeing
these things - you have every right to. It's taken a lot of time to
open my eyes to my failings as a parent, John. Chief among those has
been how well you've been doing without your mother and I around."

Forge blinked. "Wait, no. No, you don't get to do this." He rubbed his
eyes and scooted away from his father on the sofa. "You don't get to
say you're sorry and suddenly become the Good Father here. You never
listened to a word I said when-"

"You never said anything," Richard countered calmly. Forge fumed
slightly, then snapped back.

"You should have cared more! Paid more attention, noticed more!" His
fists were clenched as he stared his father down. What would it take
to make this man crack?

"You're right," his father agreed. "I should have paid more attention.
I can't make excuses for that. But don't ever think for one second
that since the moment you were born, that I didn't care. Whether you
believe it or not, I do care, John. And I'm proud of the man I see you
becoming."

"Bullshit," Forge breathed, folding his arms and turning to face the
door to the suite, just in time to hear a knock and open it by reflex.

"Hey," Dani stood in the doorway dressed in what was for her, her best
clothes. All Dane-approved, of course. She looked between the two men,
feeling the tension between them, "Um...am I interrupting? I can come back
later..."

"No," Forge lied, grateful for the sudden interruption. "Dani, please,
come on in. Dani, this is my father, Richard Forge. Dad, this is Dani
Moonstar."

"A pleasure to meet my son's friends," Richard said, stepping over
from the couch to offer his hand to Dani. He paused briefly, looking
her over. "Tsétsêhéstâhese?" he asked.

(long form of 'tsitsistas', or Cheyenne)

She shook it, eyes lowered, she could see both the Cheyenne and resemblance
to Forge, "Héehe'e, Tsehešêhestovêstse," she replied automatically,
suprised.

*yes, uncle*

"Uncle?" Richard laughed, clapping a hand on Dani's shoulder. "Oh,
you're a daughter of the reservation through and through. Southern
Cheyenne, I'd guess by the accent? Oklahoma?"

Nodding, Dani smiled at him, he wasn't horrible at all! "Tsehma'êho'a'e'ta.
Hahkota said you hated the rez in Montana. I made frybread," she pulled the
tinfoil off the plate she was carrying, it was still warm.

(watonga)

Richard looked quizzically over to his son, who just stood there for
the second time that day blinking. "Home-cooked frybread? I haven't
had good frybread since I was John Henry's age." Taking one piece on a
napkin, Richard lifted the plate out of Dani's hands and set it on the
small coffee table, pulling out a chair for Dani to sit. Once she had,
he took a seat on the couch, smiling as he bit into the bread.

"Oh, this is amazing," he said, taking a sip of tea with the snack.
"Takes me back."

"Takes you back?" Forge asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "You
never talk about the Montana reservation, except to tell me not to ask
about it."

Richard wiped his mouth with the napkin and leaned forward across the
table at his son, wagging a finger. "I never said not to ask about it,
I just said I didn't want to talk about it, Hahkota." He smiled
conspiratorially at Dani. "It fits him, by the way.

"It do, ain't it?" her accent was coming out thicker than it had been
recently now. She was pleased that he appreciated her frybread. She hadn't
been the best on the rez, but she wasn't terrible either, "He ain't the
right kind of inquisitive. He looks for facts, not stories, but I make him
listen anyways."

"The stories often tell more truth than the facts, don't they?"
Richard nodded sagely, turning to his son. "You should listen to her
more often, John. She's got a good head on her shoulders."

"Sure," Forge said dismissively, "so how about the facts on why you
left the reservation, then, and the story about why you never talk
about it, huh? Is there some big secret you've been keeping all these
years? Or did you just not have the patience for them either?"

Richard winced at the accusation, but composed himself. "I suppose I
did deserve that. But there's no big secret. When I was sixteen, your
age, I was ready to graduate from high school. I was accepted into
university, but with your grandparents, my parents, living off of a
pension, we couldn't afford it. So I applied for a scholarship and was
told that since I lived on the reservation, there was a quota of
'native' scholarships that they could give out, and they had met it."
He shrugged expressively. "These things happened in those days. So I
left the reservation and worked odd jobs in Helena for two years, told
people I was 18 so I could get a fair wage. Lived out of my car for a
good deal of it until I could afford to go to Bozeman. I met your
mother, and we moved to Texas from there."

Forge just blinked. "Wait, that's it? You just left because you
had to go to college? No deep dark family secret, no hidden past?"

Richard shook his head. "None of that. When your grandparents died, a
year before you were born, I didn't have any family left on the
reservation. We're a lot more remote and spread out than the Southern
Cheyenne," he explained for Dani's benefit. "Not a real cohesive
community like your people. There wasn't anything to go back to."

"Ignore him," Dani waved her hand towards Hahkota, "he thinks I'm crazy.
It's because the doctors say I am," okay, so she was crazy, but that didn't
matter right now since she was doing okay, "Not everything is a deep dark
terrible story."

Forge snorted at both Dani and his father. "I don't know which of you
is crazier. I've got to..." he felt his PDA buzz with a familiar
alarm. "Oh, it's done. I've, uh, I've got to head to the lab. Dani?
Can you do me a favor and go have Dr. McCoy start the depressurization
procedure for Chamber 3? Tell him I'll be down in a minute."

The look Forge was giving was more pleading than she was expected to
seeing. He obviously had something to say to his father, and the
I'll tell you later vibe he was giving off was a strong one.

Rising, Dani looked at him strangely, "Uh, sure. Decomposition in chamber 3.
Good to meet you, Uncle."

"Indeed, Danielle. Thank you for the frybread."

***

"Jay?" Forge stuck his head into his suitemate's room, a look of mixed
relief and stress on his face. "Need to ask a reasonably large favor
of you. I've got to run to the lab right quick, and kind of can't take
my dad down there. Think you could, um, walk him down to the sunroom
to wait? You don't have to hang out and talk to him or anything, just
show him where it is?"

Jay was lying on his bed, still nursing a mild headache from the
previous day. Telekinesis fucking hurt. He looked up when he
heard his roommate call him, and propped himself up on his elbows.
"Um, sure, Ah can do that." Thankful for a distraction that would get
his mind off the pain, he grabbed his discarded sweatshirt from the
floor and pulled it on before following Forge out to the common room.

"Dad, Joshua Guthrie. Jay, my dad. I'll, uh, meet you downstairs in a
bit." Forge made the hurried introductions, then rushed out into the
hall. Richard turned, looking over at his son's roommate.

"So... Jay, is it? John Henry asked if you'd show me downstairs?"

Jay extended his hand to shake Mr. Forge's and offered him a smile.
"Hi, sir, nice to meet you," he said, pulling a Paige and dulling his
accent. Not that he was intimidated or embarrassed or anything, but
Jay knew what this visit meant to his friend, and he didn't want Mr.
Forge to think his son was living with some winged country bumpkin.

"A pleasure," Richard returned, allowing Jay to escort him into the
hall and towards the stairs. "I have to say, I've been rather
impressed by the school so far, and with the atmosphere here. It seems
to have rubbed off rather well on John."

Uh oh, talking. Jay wasn't sure how long he could keep up the
lack-of-accent. Folding his wings closer to himself as if that would
help, he nodded. "He's a cool guy, y'know? Got lots of friends.
Definitely the best roommate I could've asked for."

"Now that is interesting," Richard remarked. "Friends. I
suppose..." he paused and exhaled slowly before continuing, "I suppose
that most of the staff and students here can provide something that he
can identify with, in a way that his mother and I haven't been able
to. Tell me something, Jay, if it's not prying. Do you keep in contact
with your parents, since you've been here?"

"It's definitely different than anywhere else here," Jay agreed,
although it came out more like a mumble. "My dad died a few years ago,
but yeah, I still write and call Ma . . . my mom whenever I can. I
have a very big and close family, y'know."

Richard nodded. "Even with all the... unusual occurrences here, that's
good to hear. I do wish John Henry would write home more, but I think
all parents want that from their children." As they walked around the
corner, Richard's eyes widened at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the
sunroom. Silently, he walked over to the windows overlooking the green
grass of the backyard, admiring the spring day - even if it was
artificial.

Massaging his temples to relief the pressure in his head, Jay followed
Mr. Forge into the sunroom. "Well, Forge is always really busy. If
he's not inventing some new life-saving device, then he's either
dragging someone out to get food or being dragged out himself to make
him more social. I guess some things just slip his mind." He hoped he
wasn't revealing too much of his friend's habits to his father.

"It sounds like he's becoming quite the responsible, sociable young
man," Richard mused, glancing out the window, a slightly wistful tone
to his voice. "Professor Xavier and Doctor McCoy have filled me in on
his accomplishments, this school has certainly enabled him to do quite
a bit with his gifts." He turned to face Jay, with a small smile, "But
I must say that it's his friends that impress me the most. John Henry
was never much one for making friends, and you and the other students
seem to have broken him out of that shell. I can't thank you enough
for that."

"Well, that's what the school is here for, or so they tell me," Jay
offered with a slight shrug and smile. "Give us muti - mutants
a place where we can make the most of ourselves and our mutations.
Forge has totally taken advantage of that. He's, like, a poster boy or
somethin'," said Jay with a small amount of admiration in his voice.
"You don't really have to thank me for anything. He's done a lot for
people, so people do a lot for him, I reckon. S'just the way it is
'round here."

Richard thought about that for a moment, then turned back to the
window. "Nevertheless, thank you for being a friend to my son. It's
good to see that the school's been... kind to him."

"Um, okay. You're welcome, then." Stuffing his hands in his pockets
and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he looked around
the room, unsure of what to say next. Or even if he should say
anything. He'd taken Mr. Forge to the sunroom like Forge had asked,
and while his headache was subsiding, it was still there and another
aspirin along with some napping was in order. But Jay felt bad just
abandoning his dad's friend there. It couldn't hurt to keep him
company for just a couple more minutes. "So, um, have you met many
people here yet?"

"Quite a few very interesting people, but I suppose 'interesting' is
part of the status quo here, isn't it? Students who can walk through
walls, Nobel candidates teaching science, despite being blue-furred
and bestial? It makes my son's talents seem... almost mundane." He sat
on the windowsill, looking over at Jay. "Yet I know they're anything
but. Here, he's offered a chance to express them, to help discover who
he is as well as everything he's capable of. I only wish his mother
and I could offer him the same opportunity." He smiled sadly at Jay.
"You've become a good friend to him. Something that in sixteen years,
I feel I haven't been able to accomplish."

Jay sat down on the sill across from Mr. Forge, brushing away some
hair that had fallen in his face. He felt sorry for the man, and hoped
that Forge was giving his parents a chance to be his parents
now. "Ah don't know his whole deal," he said, slipping back to his
normal accent, "But Ah think that if you and your wife were the ones
who sent him here, then ya have given him this opportunity.
That's pretty important, y'know?"

Richard nodded slowly. "You're a wise young man. I only hope he sees
it that way, in time."

***

A series of sharp thumping sounds were heard down the hallway,
following by something pink and fluffy skidding across the floor from
around the corner, limbs flailing wildly until it managed to hook one
around the legs of a chair, causing it to swerve in another direction
at high speed. The purple blur that followed managed to slide in and
out from under the chair without pause, merely bouncing off the wall
to follow the squid with an intent look.

Limbs setting into action the toy skittered away at a surprisingly
high speed, drawing an enthusiastic meep of approval from the cat
following it. A sharp turn resulted in something rather unusual for
what would normally have been a relatively acceptable sight, the cat
morphing suddenly into a tall girl, who somehow managed to neatly skid
into the wall and throw herself forward, the sudden body shift
speeding her motion up just enough for her to land on the toy and snag
it with both hands.

"HA! Catseye has you now! Eep!" The squid wriggled free, only to be
nabbed again, Catseye grinning cheerfully as she sat down and lifted
it up in the air, causing the toy to automatically wrap itself around
her hands and try to work it's way down one of her arms.

Richard raised an eyebrow, turning from the window and the bright
spring day outside. The girl's purple hair didn't startle him - he'd
seen more outlandish affectations on his way in to work each morning -
as much as the tail did.

"Er, hello?" he offered. "Are you a student here?"

Catseye turned her head, studying him pensively, the slit-like pupils
of her eyes nearly disappearing in reaction to the sunlight streaming
through the window. A slow inhalation confirmed what she'd known and
she pushed herself up, padding towards Forge's father, the squid
nearly forgotten as it clung to her wrist. "Yes, Catseye is." She
wasn't exactly, in her own way of seeing things, but since it was a
detail more than anything else. "ShinyBitsBoy said his father would be
here..." She trailed off, as though she hadn't in fact been sneakily
following him around for the better part of an hour before deciding
how to do her entrance.

"ShinyBitsBoy?" Richard smirked outright at that. "You mean John
Henry, I assume. That's an... apt nickname for him." He cocked his
head to look at the MiniSquid, the gesture oddly reminiscent of
Forge's habitual curious way of looking at things from a different
angle.

"He made that, didn't he?" Richard asked, indicating the squid. "When
he was younger, he took apart one of his mother's china dolls to put
motors and gears in it so it would move around. You should have seen
how angry she was," he smiled at the memory. "You're a friend of his,
then?"

"Yes. And Catseye likes what ShinyBitsBoy did for her very much," she
murmured politely, sauntering close enough to keep peering at him, all
the while keeping just that distance which was considered polite among
cats who didn't know each other. "Why did ShinyBitsBoy's father come
to visit?" she asked artlessly, curious as to see what his take
on that matter would be, even though things had seemed to be going far
better than what Forge had expected from what she could tell.

"I was meeting with the Professor to discuss John Henry's education,"
Richard explained, "and decided that I should see the school where my
son's been learning so much. He's very lucky to have friends here who
understand him, I must admit." he sat down on one of the lounges,
turning his hands over. "This may surprise you, given what people have
told me about him here, but he didn't have many friends back home.
None that I'm aware of, to be honest." He turned to Catseye and
smiled. "I hear he even went to a dance, although something tells me
that may be a vicious rumor."

A pout answered that, Catseye remembering being maneovered into that
one only too well. "ShinyBitsBoy conned Catseye into going too. As a
human." A huff of indignation followed - and then elaborate innocence.
"Well. Catseye let him think that, anyway. Sometimes ShinyBitsBoy
needs a little help with things." The squid poked her arm, one of the
programmed responses meant to amuse the cat, and she grinned down at
it. "And something ShinyBitsBoy does just fine on his own, if given a
chance." She remembered the talk they'd had not long ago clearly.
"Humans just make everything more complicated than it should be,
Catseye thinks."

"Humans?" Richard smirked at the phrase, noticing Catseye's tail
twitching back and forth. "Well, it's a good thing he has you to help
him... Catseye?" He knew he'd heard his son mention the name. Odd
nickname for the girl, yet it definitely fit. She was an obvious
mutant, and there was something about her he couldn't put his finger
on...

"So you're his... girlfriend?" Richard ventured.

A slow blink answered that, Catseye's pupils widening and then
thinning again in response. "Catseye is a cat!" Obviously,
someone had not received the memo. She grinned suddenly then, a
cheerful and mischevious gleam in her eyes. "ShinyBitsBoy would have a
heart attack if he had to deal with the idea of having a girlfriend
right now. Which makes him a very easy target, and Catseye worries
about him being taken advantage of sometimes, but Catseye is keeping
an eye on that. Because Catseye is his friend." She said the word as
though it was still new, a concept she was still exploring the
dimensions of. "And friends are important."

She tilted her head at him, pondering how much more she should tell
this man, whom Forge had thought so strongly would not approve of him.
But he'd already proven that wrong... "Besides. It is because Catseye
is a cat that ShinyBitsBoy finds it easier to talk to her," she added
with a serene smile.

"But of course you are, my dear." Richard smiled broadly, now
recalling what Dr. McCoy had told him of the girl. "He needs friends
like you, and young Joshua - Jay," he corrected. "If I ask you to
watch over him while he's here, could you do that? As a favor for me?"

"Catseye is watching over ShinyBitsBoy because she wants to." Another
slow blink, a cat peering through her eyes at the man before her, and
she continued peacably. "Doing it as a favor would only mean Catseye
would not be doing it for the right reasons." Besides. In his own way,
Forge watched over her as well.

Richard nodded, understanding. "In that case, I don't have anything to
worry about then, do I? I think that the two of you are quite..." His
eyes focused behind her shoulder as he smiled.

"John Henry," he called out. "We were just talking about you. Did
everything go all right in the lab?"

Forge paused, looking at his father, then over to Catseye. "Talking.
About me." A look of brief panic washed over his face, then he quirked
his mouth in a smile. Walking casually over, he sat down next to
Catseye on the couch and put his arm around her shoulders. "Of course
you're talking about me. I'm a wonderful conversation topic, isn't
that right?" He playfully squeezed Catseye's shoulders and gave his
father a conspiratorial wink.

Richard, seeing right through his son's mocking bravado, simply sat
back and steepled his fingers. "Indeed. Catseye was just telling me
some rather... interesting stories," he bluffed.

It was a successful one, as Forge appeared to swallow his own adam's
apple with a double take, and looked from his father to Catseye. "Huh?
But I, we... huh?"

With a sigh, Catseye twisted a bit, settling in her habitual position
whenever Forge forgot she was in a human body and a girl to boot, and
gave him a stern 'no being silly look' along with rolled eyes.
Marie-Ange did it, and Catseye thought that as human expressions went,
it was a lovely way of conferring how silly people were being. "Would
ShinyBitsBoy be upset if Catseye bit his father for teasing like that?
Catseye knows ShinyBitsBoy wanted everyone to behave but-" oh my, that
was a distinct look of panic, and Catseye reached up to tap his nose
lightly. "Ooookay. No biting."

Heading a melodramatic sigh, Catseye carefully showed a much put-upon
expression to hide her amusement. "Catseye will behave. And Catseye
and ShinyBitsBoy's father were just talking about how Catseye was
ShinyBitsBoy's friend, so no looking like a mouse about to be pounced
on, please."

The man hadn't earned a Name yet, she decided. And maybe saying the
word pouncing hadn't been a good idea. Catseye peeked at Forge again
to check on that one.

"It seems you've, ah, made quite an impact here, son," Richard said
with a deadpan expression, amused by his son's obviously flustered
state. "Catseye was only keeping me company for a while. And if she
could excuse us," he checked his watch quickly, "I believe my plane
leaves in a few hours - would you like to take a drive, maybe get
something to eat before I have to leave?"

Forge blinked at his father. "Yeah, okay," he answered after a long
pause. "I'll sign out the Jeep - I think Mr. Summers is probably still
coping with this weekend's news. Let me bring it around and, uh, yeah.
We'll do that."

Standing up awkwardly, he scratched Catseye on the head absently
before noticing his father's amused expression. "Right. Car," he said,
quickly rushing towards the garage.

Watching him go, Catseye looked pensive. Finally, she stood up as
well, teasing the squid from one wrist to the other absently. "Catseye
thinks maybe ShinyBitsBoy will not have any nightmares, tonight." She
turned to look at Richard, lips quirking just a bit. "ShinybitsBoy's
father should ask to go the the Burger Shack," she declared, calling
the place by it's own name instead of the nickname she'd given it
which might not make the transition from father to Forge perfectly.
"Best. Pastrami. Ever!" A pause. "But Catseye was not the one who said
this."

With that Catseye turned on her heel, tail swishing in the informal
goodbye cats used when departing, pondering the merits of a good
sunning spot and a nap. Maybe Forge would even think to bring back one
of the pastrami sandwiches for her, at that.

***

Forge pulled the Jeep out onto Westchester Parkway, heading for Salem Center proper. The tires squeaked briefly around the sharp turn as the black Jeep eased into the slow city traffic. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see his father calmly just leaning back in the seat and enjoying the drive.

"So," he finally asked, "when do I expect my ticket home?"

Richard said nothing for a moment, then looked out the window. "I'm not bringing you home, John. You seem very much at home at the school, and I believe it's the best place for you right now."

Forge blinked, unconsciously changing lanes to pass a slower driver. "That's… thank you. I like it here. They… well, I like it." He slowed to a stop at a red light and turned to his father quickly. "Okay, what's up with the sudden Fred MacMurray Good Father routine? You go sixteen years barely saying a word to me, and then suddenly it's 'good job, I'm proud, I want to see you happy?' Bullshit."

"Green light," Richard noted, then turned to look at his son. "I can't make up for lost years, John. Believe me, this past year has been filled with 'what if' and 'if only', for both your mother and me. All I can say is that I want what's best for you, and that I'm sorry it took so long to find out what that is."

Forge drove through the intersection, then quickly pulled into a streetside parking space, leaving the engine running. "No." he intoned. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to spend my entire life completely oblivious, and then develop this concerned proud streak the moment you get me out of your hair. It doesn't WORK that way. I'm going to do well here, I'm going to make something out of myself – but it's because that's what I want to be. Not because it'll make you proud, or because you think it's best." He took a deep breath, unaccustomed to speaking to his father – or anyone really – this way.

"Don't you get it? They listen to me here! They help me through things, they push me, they challenge me. They care about me, dammit!" He struck the wheel with his hands, punctuating his sentence with anger. "That's more in five months than I can say about you and Mom in sixteen years."

"We care, John," Richard explained. "We always have."

"They SHOW it," Forge shot back. "Hell, I can't even try and get an introspective moment half the time without someone making sure I'm okay. Yeah, it's a bit smothering at times – but it's better than not even being there."

The words hit Richard like a sledgehammer in the gut. "You're right," he finally acquiesced. "Is that what you want to hear, John? That I'm a failure as a father? If so, then let it be said. I didn't know how to give you the attention you needed, and we've all suffered for it."

"Oh, I'm sure you've just been heartbroken," Forge spat derisively. "This just changes everything."

"Forge," Richard shot back. "You have no idea how hard this has been on me. You can't even imagine what it's like for a father to watch his son go through what you've gone through. Crippled, maimed because I wasn't attentive enough to listen when I needed to." He breathed out slowly, gripping the dashboard tightly.

"After the incident at the high school," he said slowly, "I called in a favor from an old college friend of mine who works at the police department. He's an arson investigator. He filed his report that the explosion was caused by a gas main leak. I asked him to lie," Richard hissed, "because I didn't want to see you hurt worse than you already have been. So you could get a second chance."

Forge was silent, looking out the window so that his father wouldn't see his eyes welling up. "Is that why you sent me away the first chance you got? So I wouldn't remind you of having to do that?"

Richard lashed out, grabbing his son's shoulder and turning him to look into his eyes. Both men were on the verge of tears, then Richard reached out with both arms, drawing his son tightly to his chest. "No, son. It's… this is a second chance. For both of us. If you'll let it be."

Stiffening for a moment, Forge finally went limp and just let his father hold him. "I… I don't know how. You don't get it. About the only thing I could count on all those years was that you didn't give a damn. This is… well, it's a bit disconcerting, really."

"Does that have to be a bad thing?" Richard asked. "We can rebuild this bridge between us, John. Forge."

"John," Forge whispered to his father. "I think I can put up with it, from you." He gave a weak smile. "And… what the hell. Building things is what I do, right?"

Richard reached down to cup his son's mechanical hand with both of his own. "Then maybe you can teach your old man a few things about it, then."

Forge nodded. "If you can keep up," he joked, then pointed out the window. "There's this burger place down the road. It's… well, you kind of have to see it to believe it."

Richard smiled and leaned back in his seat, remembering what Catseye had said. "That sounds perfect, son. I hear the pastrami comes highly recommended." As Forge blushed from his neck to his ears, Richard grinned at himself in the mirror. "You're definitely going to have to tell me the whole story about her, aren't you?"

"I could crash this car right now and just save us the trouble," Forge insisted. But he smiled as he said it.

It wasn't a bad start, as father-son talks went. Not a good one, but it would do.