xp_logs | (LOG) Jono, Paige

"We have got to stop meeting this way." There was a quiet groan as Paige rolled over, eyes trying to focus past the golden light that was her boyfriend, making it something more solid. She shaded her eyes against the glare, minimally easing the strain against her migraine, and gave him a weak smile. There he was, broad shoulders against the sterile white of one of the Muir recovery rooms; she knew she hated working with brain mutations for a reason.

Jono reached a hand out, brushing a lock of cornsilk-blonde hair away from Paige's forehead. "I'll promise to cut down on all the explodin', if it'll help," he 'said' quietly. Despite the cheerful tone of his mental voice, his eyes were sad above the glowing mass of energy glowing from his chest and face. "But we got it this time, we did. Stable." He grasped her slim hand between his own to emphasize the word. "'m back, for better or worse."

"Somewhere, Xavier's insurance broker just felt footsteps over his grave," she joked weakly back, turning her palm up to lace their fingers. Paige listened, to the twin beeps pinging against the walls of the room – one for her, one for him – and the strange, pale hum in her head that was his presence, and knew if he was lying, at least it wasn't entirely. "I didn't expect a proposal for getting you back, you know."

A quick look of horror crossed Jono's brow, then the strange telepathic ripple that was as close as he came to laughter. "You never knew I was just waiting to get you in a hospital bed high on painkillers to pop the question, did you? I'm just Big Romantic Bloke, I am."

Squeezing Paige's hand in his, Jono ran his other hand along the edge of the gaping hole in his chest, feeling the psionic energy crackle and pop. "This probably covers the 'worse' part, though, wouldn't you say?"

Paige frowned, tugging at him with that strange well of strength she always had hidden. "On the contrary. You're more than a glowing, incorporeal form. I would have to consider that very, very much a better." Watching him, the motions, she raised their hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "Much better. I was beginning to get bitter about even the couple of minutes you could hold a solid form."

"Such as it is," he replied wistfully, looking over at the bedside table where a containment shirt had been laid out for him. "I could stay here, you know. Keep trying to fix..." he gestured to the hole in his chest and shrugged. "But since I'm at least stable, there's no reason we couldn't... I know you've got your life back in the States to get back to. If you want to go back, you know I'm right there with you, yeah?" He ran his thumbs over the back of Paige's hand. "You an' me, like it ought to be."

"You save all the mush for when I'm practically unconscious, don't you? So there's a chance I won't remember." Paige blinked slowly, her eyes focusing out and then back in again as she opened them. Her excitement was easy to quell when everything felt like it was going in slow motion. "I do miss the mansion. The people, the... team. But I won't put your recovery behind that. Moira is here?"

Jono shook his head. "She got called back to New York. She'll be back tomorrow. But the next time she goes back to the States... I was thinking we could go with her. You and me. What do you say?"

"And what happens when she goes back? Do you go with her, or stay at the mansion and risk any further recovery?" Paige asked, pressing the question; she'd press until he couldn't avoid the reality of what going back really meant.

"We stay," Jono said, emphasizing the 'we'. "If I'm going to recover more than I am now, it'll happen no matter where I am. An' I want to be where you are. Westchester, Muir, London, wherever. Besides, I got a job there, remember? God help those poor kids if they have to call Blaire back to teach pop music to the littles."

"We stay," Paige repeated slowly, looking up at him. She smiled brightly. "We stay."