xp_logs | Log: Hank, Forge; lunchtime

The second meal delivery of the day to Dr. McCoy, Forge gets some questions answered about the mission.

Forge balanced the tray on his left hand, lifting it over the heads of the younger children that were scampering around the ground floor. It was an odd dichotomy, he thought. Everyone over the age of thirteen seemed to be locked into some kind of somber silence, and everyone younger was even more rambuctious by comparison.

Making his way to the third floor, he walked down to Dr. McCoy's room, the smell of the lunch Dani had prepared making him slightly hungry himself. He'd seen Dr. McCoy hurt when everyone got back, but even though he wasn't confined to the medlab, Forge figured he could do with as little running up and down those stairs as possible.

Hank had gone back to sleep, after the breakfast Amanda had brought him was thoroughly devoured, spread out on the couch this time. Again, it was knocking on the door that woke him... and woke him up a bit further, this time. "Who is it?" he called, yawning and running a hand through his already tousled hair. He had all-over bedhead, he realized, looking down. Definite date with a shower and his blow-drier before going out in public.

"It's just me, sir," Forge called through the door, then cracked it open slightly, "you decent?"

At the answering grunt, he walked inside, setting the tray down on a low table, sitting across from the couch and perusing Hank curiously. "Wow," he finally said, "even those of you who didn't get all beat to crap look like you've been through a meat grinder. Speaking of meat grinder," he lifted the cheesecloth off the tray with a flourish.

"Venison sausage pasta, and it's not bad. You wouldn't think Dani'd be any good with pasta, but trust me, it's great. How're you feeling?" he babbled.

Hank brightened. Food! He was very much in favour of this bringing-him-food trend that was emerging. "I always look like this in the mornings," he said, reaching happily for the food. "Well, except for the bandages. But my fur always looks like this in the mornings." He gave Forge a quick once-over. "Did you get enough sleep?" The dark circles under his eyes were mostly gone, at least.

Forge nodded, checking his watch. "Six and a half hours. Doc Moira says that's about right when I've been running that many hours in a row. She's been figuring some neat things out about my power, brain scans and stuff like that. Some of it's over my head, but it boils down to that when I kind of zone out when I'm building something?" he pushed a plate over to Hank to punctuate his sentence, "Seems like my body treats that as REM sleep - that's why I can go for longer without it as long as I'm working. I still crash pretty hard if I go too long, though." He shrugged. "Workaholic's dream mutation. How's your leg doing?" Forge nodded at the large bandage, though not looking directly at it. "Dr. Bartlet said you got stabbed."

"It's not too bad... a clean puncture. And Amanda came up with my breakfast and gave it a little nudge with the healing spell, to preclude infection. Infections in a wound this deep can be a very nasty business." He took a mouthful of pasta, and made happy noises. Oh, that WAS good.

Reaching out, Forge grabbed an errant slice of sausage, popping it into his mouth and leaning back into the overstuffed chair. With a smile, he noticed that the Lego castle that Hank had been constructing weeks ago was still standing on the windowsill. "I heard that Mr. Dayspring's got a broken back," he said quietly. "Is he going to be able to... well, you know? Is he going to be okay?"

"He's off moving-privileges for a while, but he'll recover fully in time, especially with Amanda using her healing to nudge things along." Hank nodded. "The spinal cord itself was only slightly damaged, and the bones will heal with time. He's going to be in that bed for a while, though." He yawned. "I predict he'll start complaining within a week."

"Amanda could heal him faster," Forge insisted, "She's got the ability. But you doctors have the final say on that." Forge tried unsuccessfully to disguise his dissatisfaction that that particular dictum, but resolved to let it lie. "Mr. Guthrie... Sam," Forge struggled for a moment to remember Jay's brother's name, "he seems to be doing pretty bad, too. Everyone's pretty messed up - did you guys get done what you went out for?"

"We did." Hank nodded. "And slower healing is better, for a spinal injury... aside from the fact that we want Amanda to keep a reserve of energy in case something goes wrong, for Nathan or someone else, spinal injuries are very delicate. If they heal even the slightest bit wrong.... well. If it gets taken slowly, any problems can be noted and corrected before they're healed over and impossible to fix."

"I did some research, building off the stuff she's studied about spells. Healing, really." Forge held out his mechanical hand, adjusting some of the mechanisms absently. "I was, well... wondering, you know? If she could fix..." he shook his head in dismissal of the idea. "Can't be done, really. Not without messing with a lot of stuff. Magic isn't like science, science doesn't ask for intent or motivation when it gives you results."

He sat silent for a while, watching Hank finish off the pasta. "Have you ever thought about trying to reverse what happened to you?" he asked quietly. "Your accident, I mean. The one that made you all blue and stuff. So you could look like you used to?"

Hank nodded. "I tried for years," he said softly. "I only stopped when one of my attempts almost killed me. I might not have stopped even then, if it hadn't been for Moira and Alison. They were very firm on the 'better furry than dead' notion."

Forge cocked his head, curious. "You knew Ms. Blaire back then? Huh. Small world, eh? But you were kind of lucky, I mean, you're still smart and strong and all that stuff."

"Stronger than I was before, actually. And a bit more agile." Hank nodded. "And yes, I've known Alison for many years. We met when I was in med-school, actually. I already had my physics degree, then, so we had something to talk about." He smiled a little. "She and Moira were both very much there for me, when I befurred myself. I'd hate to imagine how much worse it would have been without them."

Forge nodded. "I didn't really get that, not until here. But here, no one really looks at me strange. Well, not because of the leg, anyway," he joked with a smile. "Weird is normal here, I guess."

"Indeed." Hank smiled. "And not only externally. I've often considered having a quote from the Cheshire Cat put on a plate over the door.... "We're All Mad Here". It would save so many explanations." He reached for the fruit Dani usually included in a meal... banana, this time. Mm. Potassium. "Thank you for making sure all the medlab equipment was at its best, by the way. With this coming so closely on the heels of my... incapacity, I was a little concerned, since I'd had no chance to check most of it myself."

Forge grinned, pulling his PDA out and calling up a file from the network. "Made a few changes, with Doc Moira's approval, mind you. Thermal sutures that'll work for the folks like Kyle with healing factors, because they tend to reject the regular ones. A portable stabilizer for the energy projectors - did you know that most energy projectors burn calories more efficiently than any animal except a hummingbird? I think that's why some of them tend to eat like racehorses." He closed the cover on his PDA and shrugged. "I emailed you the new documentation - all useful stuff. I just did what I could..."

With a small gleam in his eye, he smiled conspiratorially at Hank. "So did Mr. Dayspring get to use his new tool out there? How'd it look? I haven't got the chance to talk to him yet about it."

"I assume so, but we didn't run into each other during the fight..." Hank sighed. He felt more than a little guilty that he hadn't been able to help, in that last stand... but he'd known, damn his analytical mind, that there was simply no way he could reach the barracks from the medevac area, and he'd been desperately needed where he was. "I spent a lot of it trying to keep the wounded from becoming body-count. There were... many casualties."

That sobered Forge up quickly. "I thought I'd heard people talking about some kind of joint thing, military, all that." He was silent, thinking things over. "I know what Mr. Dayspring was planning, and I'm not asking for any details - but this was it, right? Did you guys get the guys? The ones who... you know, with Kyle, and Mr. Dayspring, and the kids?"

"We did. They're gone, and the children they were holding are safe." Hank nodded, reaching out to pat Forge's shoulder gently. "We paid a high price, but what happened to Kyle and Nathan won't ever happen to anyone again."

Forge let out a long breath. "Thank God," he whispered. "It's just... I don't understand that, how people can do that, things that horrible. I mean - I take things, I twist them, I reinvent them, I change them. But I know where to draw the line. People aren't machines, they're not tools. How does someone think like that? It just doesn't make sense." He mused on it for a while. "That kind of madness frightens me."

"Me too." Hank reached out to loop an arm around the boy's thin shoulders, giving him a quick, gentle hug. "But it's over, now. And we saved just over fifty children."

"Fifty...?" Forge's mind boggled at the number. It didn't seem real. "Are they... do they have families to go back to? Do their parents know they're okay? What's going to happen to them? Are they going to stay here like Kyle and Talia?"

"I have no idea. I was still trying to cope with the wounded at the time. I believe Madelyn would know, though." Hank yawned again. "She was making arrangements with the relevant authorities, I believe. And certainly any children with no other place to go will be welcomed here."

Forge nodded, reaching out to collect the plate and utensils and place them back on the tray. "I'll do that. Kyle's practically climbing the walls trying to help out, so I'd better go keep him out of trouble. He'll be... I don't know. This is good news for him, isn't it? He'll love to hear it once Mr. Dayspring's well enough for visitors."

"I have something I want to tell him, too," Hank agreed. He wasn't sure Forge was ready to hear what he'd done to the conditioning team... something he doubted he'd ever regret... but he thought Kyle would like to know. "I have to shower and so on now, but I'll try to catch up with him later."

Whisking the plate up and balancing it like a professional, Forge eased up out of the chair and stepped over to the door. "I'll let him know. And yeah, maybe it's just the fur and the whole battle thing, but..." he waved a hand in front of his nose, "wet dog, Doc. Just sayin' you definitely want to hit that shower before Kyle comes around."

Hank laughed. "I know. Be glad you don't have fur. Not only is an extensive beauty routine required, but it takes BO to whole new levels."