Convalescence [ota]

[forgebyfire]

Forge had never done well with Westernized medicine--needful tolerance was about as far as he went down that road. So it was that after almost two weeks of being trapped in medbay under the watchful eyes of the doctors, he made good his escape

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[slightproblem]

Olivia was in the mess as well. She'd poured herself a cup of coffee, added a nice liberal amount of sugar and cream, and she'd perched in a corner by herself. She barely registered when anyone came into the mess, in a funk of sorts. She was lonely and beginning to doubt her reasons for being here.

She glanced up though, spotting a familiar face (one she hadn't seen since the entire age debacle had happened) and she felt the slightest smile tug at her lips. She pushed up from her table and moved over slowly towards Forge, clearing her throat softly.

"Hey. Are you alright?" she asked, frowning at the look on his face. He looked almost upset. It was strange.

[forgebyfire]

He had been so lost in his own world that Forge hadn't even noticed Olivia until she spoke. He jumped slightly and then winced, lowering his left hand to cover his right hip. But when he looked up there was a smile for her--as wan and tight as it was, anyway. "I confess that I have been better," Forge said, lifting his left hand to offer a her a seat.

[slightproblem]

She was surprised when he jumped. Usually Forge seemed a bit more in tune with everything around him. Concern flickered in her eyes as he touched his hip and her gaze softened a little at the smile.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asked, her own mood pushed aside for the moment. She slid into a seat across from him, folding her hands on top of the table.

[forgebyfire]

"No," Forge said... and then shook his head with a sigh. "There is nothing to talk about. What's done is done." He raised his right hand to lay it across the table between them--metal. The glove had only made already awkward motion more so and the material chaffed his healing wrist. His cuff was down but unbuttoned; the skin beneath it was pink, warm, healing.

It had been like being made to re-live the sins he had never honestly come to terms with in the first place.

[watch_the_nails]

Victor noticed the other man as he wandered into the Mess Hall to chow down on some leftovers; Forge's scent was very distinctive, the strong smell of metal mingling noticeably with his sweat and skin, and the feral glanced over at him as he strolled towards the kitchen area. Opening the fridge, he pulled out some cold meat, not even bothering with a plate as he shoved it into his mouth and started to chew loudly.

[forgebyfire]

Though Forge had never met the man in person, he knew him well enough by Olivia's description. By her nightmares. His dark eyes followed the large figure through the mess and kitchen, narrowed slightly--he felt too off-balance just then to mask his feelings.

It was a bad time for this, it was a bad time to feel protective of his friend when he had a hand and a leg that didn't feel absolutely connected to his body. But still his eyes didn't leave Victor, the threat in them only thinly veiled. If any man deserved retribution it was the man here in this room with him.

Forge knew that he was not the one to hand it to him. No man had that right.

But he was off-balance.

[watch_the_nails]

He continued to chew on the meat as he noted Forge's presence, turning to look at him as he ate. Victor didn't know of the growing closeness between Forge and Olivia, but he did recognise the hostile look in the young man's eyes for what it was, and that amused him; he was used to seeing that look from several of the team members, and it wasn't anything special for Victor, although he did make a note of it. No telling when he might need that knowledge later.

"Got a problem, boy?"

[forgebyfire]

"I do."

Forge should have choked back the words. He should have ate them, no matter how bitter they would have proven to swallow.

He didn't. He had spent too long in the infimary, too long doing nothing, alone with his own demons. "No doubt you've heard it before, beast that you are," not just speaking up but speaking out, provoking a man when he couldn't even stand without totering, "but my problem seems to be you."

Forge's voice wasn't over emotional. It was a simple assessment, low and cool.