Hank, Forge, Sunday night

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After his father's visit, Forge retreats to the Greenhouse in the evening to try to think things over. Hank finds him there, and they talk a little. Hank makes him an offer which is enthusiastically accepted.



Forge ran his fingers over the large leaf of the plant before him, aware that it probably had a name, but it was as much of a mystery to him as the day's events had been. Although Miss Monroe was usually very particular about who she let linger in her greenhouse, she'd been more than pleased to let Forge in to look around. He'd needed a place that was quiet enough to gather his thoughts, and it occurred to him that the greenhouse was the last place people would look.

Hank had lingered outside for a while, giving Forge time to gather his thoughts and calm down. But he didn't want to leave it too long, just in case the boy slipped into brooding. Which was practically a mandatory activity around here, but it still wasn't good for him. "Forge?" he called softly, slipping into the greenhouse. "The plants haven't eaten you, have they?"

Closing his eyes, Forge exhaled slowly. He should have known he wouldn't outwit Hank by hiding out here. The blue-furred scientist was as apt a detective as he was a biologist. "Over here, doc," he called back quietly, turning around to sit on one of the small stone benches and contemplate a small bonsai tree. "Just been thinking."

"I figured. Been quite the day for you, I imagine," Hank said, joining him on the bench. "I talked to your father this morning... one of several to do so, I understand. Having him make his first visit must have been... the phrase 'insanely stressful' comes to mind."

"You have no idea," Forge exhaled, "I never thought... have you ever held an opinion about something for so long, you can't imagine it not being true?"

"Oh, yes. One of the problems with both physics and genetics is how often you find yourself contradicting things you'd always believed were true." Hank nodded. "Although I suspect you mean more personal beliefs, in which case... well, discovering that I wasn't the only freak around did come as quite the shock. I'd been the only mutant in a small town all my life. Realizing how many more there were rather turned my world upside down."

Forge smiled at that, trying to imagine someone as intelligent as Hank coming from a small farm town. "I wanted to be able to hate him, you know?" he explained. "It made everything... easier, I guess. But he's... I don't know now. I can't, and it's hard."

"He was very happy to know that you were happy, and making friends." And talking to girls, but Hank probably shouldn't mention that. "And he told me that he knew who I was because you'd read my books when you were still there. I never knew that."

Taken momentarily aback, Forge nodded. "Well, yeah. I mean, hello? Expert in the field." He smiled widely. "You know you were robbed of that Nobel, by the way."

Hank grinned. "Aww... I'll get one yet. But thank you." He thought it over. "I haven't written anything in a while. I've been so busy, with the school and all... I haven't done much research lately that isn't heavily classified for one reason or another. Maybe with Jean home, I'll have more time for that. I could go back to my roots, and work on the mechanical instead of the genetic." He raised a shaggy eyebrow. "Perhaps we could even work on one together. My name would go above yours, obviously..." But real recognition might do wonders for Forge's confidence...

Forge paused. "Wait, you're serious? You could help get me published? That... I mean... I still need to work on my documentation, but the psionic work and the interface stuff, for Jono and for Mr. Dayspring... you'd do that?"

"Sure. We can pick out a project and work on it together. I'd prefer not to use the psionic-based research... I worry that in the wrong hands, something like that could be misused." Hank smiled down at him. His enthusiasm reminded Hank how much he himself enjoyed research and invention. "But we have you, and Haroun... perhaps we could build a better leg. Or something like that."

"Cybernetics!" Forge practically hopped off the bench with glee. "Doctor MacTaggart's cleared me through the biology tests, so I can start in on the research there. I've already acquired the documentation for my own interfaces," he wiggled his fingers for emphasis, "and I'm already seeing ways to build better ones. I've implemented some of the ideas into a tentative new design for Mr. al-Rashid. But it's all hypothetical, right now."

"Well, then we'll just have to make it less hypothetical, won't we?" Hank said cheerfully. "I see patents for both of us, coming up. Of course, putting together enough material for a book will take a long time... even I've never done it in less than a year. But it'll make a good long-term project, don't you think?"

Forge nodded enthusiastically, then paused. "You know, my first response would be how much it'd shock my dad... but now? It'll make him proud. And I think I really believe that. I just... didn't expect that to matter, you know?"

Hank nodded. "It does make a difference," he agreed softly. "My parents have never understood most of what I do, but they've always been proud of me for doing it. It helps, to know that."

"It does," Forge said quietly. "I just never expected mine to. It... I don't know, makes me feel less alone, I guess. Kind of like, I guess if I woke up tomorrow, and my hand was back. It'd feel like that."

Hank nodded. "I'm not at all surprised that he's proud of you," he said, meeting Forge's eyes squarely. "I know I am. You've come a very long way since you got here, and more through your own efforts than anyone else's."

"Thanks," Forge mumbled, rolling a small rock around with his prosthetic foot. "I just know I've got a lot further to go. Scares me a bit, you know. The unknown? I mean, the biggest things I've done have come out of some kind of crisis."

"I was talking about your personal developement, as well as the creative aspects. You're making friends, talking to girls... and arguing with teachers, which I like less, but I'll live." Hank smiled. "I know how hard some of that can be. I'm proud of you for working so hard at it."

"Personal development," Forge repeated sarcastically. "I tend to think of it more as trying to surf the avalanche around here. Got to keep moving or you get buried, right? Personalities around here seem to be like that."

"You have NO idea." Hank grinned ruefully. "I've been here, on and off, for nearly fourteen years. Temporary insanity isn't even unusual enough to make me look up from my breakfast anymore."

"Like Dr. Grey?" Forge ventured. He'd been able to piece together enough from the journals to know that she meant a lot to everyone at the school, it seemed. To him, she'd only been a name in the news, dead before he'd even known he was a mutant. "How's everyone holding up?"

"Some are coping better than others, as usual." Hank smiled ruefully. "I'm still a little floored, myself... a good shock is still a shock,you know?"

"I do," Forge said simply. Two words that seemed to just tie the entire day together.

Hank nodded, and rested a large hand on the thin shoulder for a moment. "At least things aren't ever boring, around here," he said cheerfully. "I don't know about you, but I hate to be bored. After a few hours, I can feel my brain trying to devour itself just for something to do."

Forge mulled that over, then let out a slow grin. "Wait until you see what I've put together for Mr. Dayspring. I'm going to show it to him tomorrow. It'll be fantastic."

"Oooh. I've been wondering what you were working on." Hank gave him his best puppy-dog face. "Any chance of a sneak preview?"

"Not unless one of us develops telekinesis all of a sudden," Forge answered, wagging a finger in mock scolding. "If it works, I think I could kind of adapt it to the project for Jono. I hear the bleed-off mechanism didn't go over so well? I've got some notes downstairs on a theory I had..."

"I would be delighted to see them." Hank smiled at him. "And while our research into psionics isn't publishable... for now... it is definitely useful. It's nice to know you're creating something that will really be *useful*, I think."

"Tell me about it," Forge said, "although, it's not always about function, is it?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, there's no real purpose to the toy I made for Catseye, or to tricking out the Jeep, or to, well, toes." He held up his foot and flexed his metal digits for effect. "It's finding that balance there between what you've got to do, and what you want to do. I'm learning, I think."

"Catseye's toy is very useful. It makes her happy. That's a fine use." Hank smiled. "Useful doesn't necessarily mean functional. Something that just makes someone happy, or lets them have fun, is useful too."

Forge reflected on the day's events. "Or teaches you something you should have known all along."

"Learning is always good." Hank nodded. "It doesn't always feel good at the time, but it's better to know things than not to know them, on the whole."

Leaning back with a yawn, Forge nodded. "And speaking of knowing things, I believe I have come to the conclusion that even a genius could stand to sleep after this weekend's events." He leaned over to punch Hank in the blue-furred arm. "And that doesn't mean just me."

"I don't like sleep. Sleep wastes time." Hank laughed. "But you're right. A good night's sleep will do us all good."

"And if next week's biggest crisis is passing my History exam," Forge deadpanned, "I'll call it a success."