xp_logs | [Paul, Haroun] You'll pull through just fine.

Haroun hobbles down to check on Paul; they discuss options for keeping Paul pretty and the fact that Paul is definitely not doing any dying any time soon.

God's not going to let me out of being ugly that easily.

They'd finally left him alone. This was good and bad. Paul lay in a freshly made bed in clean, soft scrubs. They'd hooked up a new IV bag and tucked him in like a child and he was staring at the ceiling. He didn't like the med staff poking him and taking notes and talking quietly. He didn't like being alone either. He stared at his hands, the one he'd bared to find Shiro's pulse was ugly; the skin was really starting to lift and bubble. His face was probably about as pretty. Damnit. Thinking was not healthy.

A knock came from the door to the room, and without waiting for a reply, it opened to reveal an extremely hunched-over Haroun. "You awake?" he asked softly, looking over at Paul in his bed. "I hope you are, because I am seriously hurting here." he said with a smile.

"What are you doi... nevermind," Paul said, waving at the chair near the bed. "Sit, before you fall over." Company was good, even if Haroun should bloody well be in bed.

Haroun walked over to the visitor chair, and sank into it with an expression of relief. "I wanted to see how you were doing. Shiro's not well enough to accept visitors quite yet, and I've already talked to Nathan and Scott. You look terrible." he said with a smile. "I think you've got at least four hairs out of place."

"I'd throw a pillow at you, but I nearly killed Nathan with one earlier." Paul's voice was rough and weak. "Won't take any chances. I look like shit. Going to look worse soon. Don't mention the hair, I may not keep it."

Haroun ran a hand over his own shaved pate. "You know, you can do a lot with the bald-and-sexy look." he said with a grin. "And you're a tough sonofabitch. You'll pull through just fine. If ... " Haroun let his voice trail off. "Never mind. You're going to pull through."

Paul shook his head. "I had my head shaved when I was seven." He pulled back his lank hair to expose a pointed ear. "I have never had the crap beaten out of me so regularly, and that includes training." Somehow, he seemed relatively good humoured about it. "I'll be fine. God's not going to let me out of being ugly that easily."

Haroun looked at the bubbling and the cracking of Paul's skin with an impassive eye. "You know, they do have the stuff I use for synthetic skin. If you don't heal back up to your usual state of perfection, I'm sure Moira could whip you up a batch, tint it to your skintones. You'd even have the benefit of being hairless naturally forever." he said with a grin. "No more shaving!"

Paul laughed at Haroun and then winced. "Optimist. I said I'd have to become deep or something if this doesn't clear up. Given my grades in philosophy, I think I might take the synthetic skin, no matter how hypocritical it makes me."

"Hey, it works for me, it can work for you." he said with a laugh, then a wince as his back protested the movement. "Oh, come ON!" he told his lower back muscles. "You're supporting plastic and cyberwear, not meat! Stop complaining!"

"You overdid it." Paul was obviously schooled in hypocrisy, because he didn't even flinch in his accusation. "Bet you're not taking anything for it, either. Men," he said in an exasperated tone.

"You'd be wrong." said Haroun. "I'd gloat, but you're sick, so I will lovingly save the gloating for when you are better." he smirked. "I was well and truly stoned for a little while there. Made something of an ass of myself in front of Madelyn."

"How delightful," Paul said, smiling a little. "I wouldn't say I'm stoned, but whatever Hank's putting in me, once he managed to find a vein and ram a needle into it, it's quite nice. I have failed to make an ass of myself in front of anyone yet," he said smugly.

"GIve it time, the night is still young." Haroun teased. "And hey - on the slight chance that things don't go well, they can do for you what they did for me."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

Haroun looked faintly uncomfortable. "Replacement." he said quietly. "If the meat fails, that is."

"I'm afraid that if something's going to go, it's not going to be one of those replaceable things." Paul flexed his hand, looking down at it, feeling the pain of the needle and the pull of the skin. "It'll be bone marrow, or the whole GI tract. But I really doubt that's going to happen. Between Amanda and my mutation, I think I'll be ready to teach when classes start."

"Take your time. Get better at your own speed - don't rush it just so that you can swear at the flying class kids." Haroun said, with a little bit of moisture about the eyes. "I can wrangle the kids until you're ready to fly rings around them."

"And let you have all the fun?" Paul managed a teasing smile. "They're used to staring at scary teachers. They can cope and so can I."

"Dammit, Paul, I'm serious here!" said Haroun, wiping at his eyes. "Get your shit together, put your body back into fighting trim."

"Haroun," Paul said gently, extending his hand. "I didn't get by fourteen years and more in this business being stupid. And I'm not going to set a poor example for my students by getting myself in trouble." He sighed heavily, recalling a time when he did jeopardize people, himself and those he loved, out of pride. "I learned my lesson there ten years ago."

"I know, I know." he said, blinking away tears. "I've read your file. I was taking comfort in the fact that we got everyone down in more-or-less one piece. Don't make a liar out of me." he said around the lump in his throat. "I'm not sure I could handle Clarice's caterwauling if you come out at anything less than your stellar best."

Paul snorted lightly at that. "I'm not going to die. I'm going to get better; not just the whole anastasis* thing people fret about, it'll be the real thing. I'll make sure not to be foolish after either. The whole flakey thing is an act. Or I try and tell myself it is."

"Fair enough." Haroun smiled. "I'll leave you be - you _really_ need your beauty sleep. You're giving Amanda's lizard a run for its money."

"Thank you so much," Paul said dryly. "I'm uplifted now." Oddly, he was. He smiled back at Haroun. "Go, take many painkillers, and sleep well."

"Can't. I'm at my limits for a man of my biological weight. No more pain pills for me until the stuff I've already taken flushes through. I'll be fine - I can handle a little ..." OK, a _lot_ "... of soreness. You need anything before I go?"

"I'm fine," Paul assured him. "For some value equal to not needing anything else right now. Thanks for coming."

"Least I could do, man. Least I could do. When you get your elfin butt out of bed, you're going to help me put the plane back together. So clear your calendar." grinned Haroun before hobbling out of the room with his bent back.

"Fine, fine," Paul grumbled half-heartedly. "You engineers are all alike." He devoted himself to trying to get comfortable enough to sleep once Haroun was gone.

*anastasis = clinical term for the false recovery period after radiation sickness followed by acute symptoms and death within hours, usually 7-14 days after exposure.