Author's Notes: I'm not a medical professional, so what happens in the story is totally made up from my imagination… So, if you're a nurse or a doctor, I'll apologize in advance for whatever inaccuracies are below.

Chapter 10

"It's alright," Jean panted out. "It'll be alright now, Scott. We made it."

Scott muttered something unintelligible. Jean knew he wasn't injured, but she also didn't know how much of a toll their journey took on him. She stood up on wobbly feet. She looked dizzily at her surroundings. She could barely see anything. There was no light. She stumbled through the pitch blackness, waving her arms in front of her. First thing she needed was a light source.

After hitting her knees and hips on several unseen obstacles, she bumped into what felt like a crudely fashioned table. Mindlessly, she groped and felt the rough planks. When her hands felt what seemed like a lantern, a choked sob tore from her. A box of kitchen matches lay beside it. Thank the Lord! With numb fingers she hoped wasn't frostbitten, she struck a match and lit the lantern.

She stumbled back to where Scott was lying on the cot. She was so lightheaded. It took everything she had not to pass out. She had no idea how much blood she had already lost. But Scott came first. She needed to take care of him. She could see his chest rising and falling. That was a good sign. She placed her index and middle finger to his throat. His pulse was strong and steady. He was just exhausted. He would be alright. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Struggling to stand, she took stock of the contents of the shack. The cot that Scott was on was the only one there and it was scarcely wide enough to sleep one person comfortably. Above it, there was a shelf with an assortment of old clothing – faded jeans, some long johns, some rolled socks, and some old work shirts. There was also a stack of wool blankets.

Jean looked behind her and saw a wood cookstove. There was also a huge pile of wood stacked beside it. She started opening all the cupboards as well just to take a quick inventory of what else was there. There were several canned goods – canned soup, ramen noodles, and spam. Not Jean's go-to menu, but it'll have to do.

In a frantic hurry, Jean got to work. She quickly got a fire started on the stove. She tried to focus on what she was doing. She was losing her strength and she was so lightheaded, no doubt due to loss of blood. But she had to hang on for Scott. She then started the arduous task of stripping him of his wet leather suit. He was heavy and limp, just like his outfit. Jean almost vomited from the amount of exertion it took to complete the task. But she managed not to, and she got Scott down to his birthday suit.

She quickly looked away feeling embarrassed. It was illogical. She'd seen him a lot more naked than that before. But regardless, she quickly wrapped him tight with a woolen blanket. Knowing her job was done, and the only thing she had left to do was get some food in him, Jean took a moment to examine Scott's face by the lantern light. She gazed down at the face whose every line was etched in her heart. The stubborn thrust of his square chin. The muscular ridge along his jaw. The jutting bridge along his slightly crooked nose. The arch of his thick brown eyebrows that peeked out of his visor. She wished she could see his eyes.

"Scott? Can you wake up for me? I need you to eat something," Jean said, tenderly.

Scott muttered something she couldn't make out.

"What did you say, Scott?" Jean asked.

"Mmm, love you, Jean. I do."

The tears in her eyes became a swimming blur. "I know. I know, Scott. You don't need to talk now. There's nothing that needs saying."

"Not… givin' up… on us…" He tried to touch her cheek. His arm fell before it spanned the distance.

"I know," Jean said, as she tried to get some broth down his throat.

"We belong… together…" Scott said weakly. Her stubborn husband. Husband. Not a fairy-tale prince, certainly. More like a frog sometimes, truth be told. He was probably the most frustrating man she knew... And the most complex. He was so many things. But one thing he wasn't was a dream that she could blink away when the going got rough. He was a flesh and blood man who had laid his heart at her feet, and God forgive her, she'd walked all over it. She threw his love for her back in his face, doubting him at every turn.

"Love you, Jean… love you… so much… no matter what…" Scott mumbled in his half delirious state.

"… I love you too, Scott… no matter what." As she said those words, Jean knew she was taking a huge step towards renewing her commitment to the man before her. It was a step that, although she still wasn't sure she had the courage to take, it was one she could at least now consider. She wondered if Scott had even heard her. Then she saw his mouth twist into a ghost of a smile, and she knew he'd hold her to her words.

Jean got back up to get some more soup for Scott when her vision became black. She swayed on her feet. She tried desperately to find some semblance of balance again. But it was no use. She fought against the dizziness, but soon enough, her body gave up and she lost consciousness.

Some time later

Scott cursed under his breath, calling himself every rotten thing in the book. What kind of man was he passing out on his wife who was practically bleeding to death?! How long had she even been unconscious for? Fear tightened its hold around his heart. If Jean didn't make it out of this alright, he'd never forgive himself.

He'd stripped her down to nothing. Her suit was damaged and soaking wet, both from the melted snow and the blood from her wound. He'd quickly donned a pair of jeans and old work shirt he found on a shelf, then wrapped his wife with the woolen blanket she'd used on him earlier. He did his best to try and preserve her modesty, but he also needed to see her wound.

Thank God it didn't seem to be infected. But it was definitely bleeding profusely. "Hang on, honey. You'll be alright," Scott said, probably more for himself than her. He examined the wound some more. No question about it, the wound needed stitching. Scott searched the shack for anything he could use. After a minute or so of looking, it seemed luck was smiling on him, and he found a crude first aid kit. In it, he found a suture needle and some dental floss. It'll have to do.

He found some vodka stashed away in one of the cupboards. He used that to clean Jean's wound. She started to stir. He then put the needle over the fire to sterilize it. He quickly soaked his hands in some vodka that was left when Jean groggily said, "Scott? What are am I?"

"Jean! Thank God, you're awake. Just relax. You've lost a lot of blood, but you'll be okay, I promise."

Scott approached her, but she quickly jerked back. "What are you doing with that needle?!"

"You're bleeding badly, Jean. I have to stitch up your wound. No doubt that's why you passed out."

"Is that dental floss?" Jean asked incredulously.

"Umm… yeah, it's all we had," Scott said sheepishly. Then he sat right on the edge of the cot and moved the blanket aside farther away from the wound.

"Whoa there, Davy Crockett," Jean said, swatting his hand away. "Since when did you know how to stitch a wound?"

"I'll admit, I've never done it before… But I know enough that your wound can't simply be taken care of by a band-aid."

Jean looked down at her wound. She seemed to be contemplating the situation. Finally, she relented and said dejectedly, "Give me whatever's left of that vodka."

A couple of hours later

"C'mon, one more bite, Jean," Scott said, holding a spoon to her mouth.

"I can feed myself," Jean said, grumpily.

"I know. But I also know you won't finish your food."

"Yeah, well, I don't particularly like spam," Jean said.

"Well, it'll help bring your strength back. As high in sodium as it is, it still has a good amount of protein. Besides, if our soldiers could live off this during World War II, it can't be all that bad."

"Thanks for the history lesson, Scott," Jean said, choking down the last bite. "There, you happy?"

"Yes. In fact, I am," Scott said, smiling, beyond relieved that some of Jean's sass had returned. He noticed her shivering and he quickly took her in his arms. Much to his surprise, she didn't pull away. In fact, she leaned back and rested her head on his shoulder. Was this progress he was making? He was scared to hope.

"I'm worried for our teammates, Scott," Jean said, breaking the brief silence. "How the hell did those terrorists know we were coming?"

"I'm more concerned with the fact that they were able to shield themselves from you. They allowed you to sense eight of their members but not the rest. How in the world were they able to pull that off against a telepath of your calibre?"

"It was a trap. And we walked into it, eyes wide open. I'm a terrible leader," Jean said, shaking her head.

"Hey, don't talk that way. That's not true," Scott said, adamantly.

"This would have never happened if you'd been the one leading," Jean said.

"It doesn't matter who was leading. I was there too. I didn't suspect they'd have the capability to pull off what they did," Scott said. "Even Trinary wasn't able to detect the technology that was in that building."

"But still… You suspected something was wrong just from the fact there were only eight armed guards I sensed," Jean said.

"We were working against the clock, Jean. And we had no reason not to trust your telepathy. They had the element of surprise against us this time. They won't again… Anyway, hindsight is always twenty-twenty," Scott said, holding Jean tighter against him, wanting to comfort her. "Are your powers coming back?"

"I'm getting bits of it back… but nothing to write home about. It's sporadic and incredibly weak. Just moving that cup on the table telekinetically exhausted me so much. I certainly don't have the ability to telepathically reach out for help from here. Not just yet. I have no idea what was in those darts," Jean said.

"The fact you were able to nudge that cup telekinetically means your powers are returning, slowly but surely. That's a good sign."

Jean sighed, just nodding. "Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you… Thank you for not leaving me behind."

"That was never an option, Jean."

"But it was," Jean insisted.

"Not to me," Scott answered, brooking no room for argument.

Jean just looked back at him and smiled. "Regardless, I thank you."

"You're welcome," Scott said, kissing the side of her head.

They sat in silence together for a long time. Scott could hardly countenance the change in Jean's demeanor since she'd woken up. She wasn't pulling away from him… literally and figuratively. Something changed in the last forty-eight hours between them… something profound. Scott broke the silence.

"Jean? Did you mean what you said to me?"

"… Yes." Scott was taken aback. He'd half expected Jean to ask him what he had been referring to. But even without her powers, she was perceptive as always.

"So, you still love me?" Scott asked, just wanting to make sure they were on the same page, even though he was already mostly confident that they were.

"Did you really think I ever stopped?" Jean asked in return.

"I've given you a lot of reason to."

"We don't control our feelings, Scott. It's not something we can just turn on or off on a whim," Jean said. Scott couldn't help but hear the trace of sadness in her voice.

"If you could… Would you? Stop loving me, I mean," Scott asked.

"… Yes," Jean said, barely above a whisper.

"Do you really mean that?" Scott asked, hurt by her answer.

Jean shrugged slightly. "I don't know… I'm sorry, that was awful of me. I'm just so tired and I'm just so tired of hurting."

"I know, but can't you find it in your heart to trust me again? To trust I won't hurt you ever again? I mean, I'm not trying to excuse what happened between me and Emma… But I think that you and I both know that would have never happened if Apocalypse hadn't messed with me so badly. I know a lot of men cheat… And I'm so ashamed that I'm now in that category… But none of them went through what I did… what we did. Can't you take that into consideration?"

"So, you admit you cheated?" Jean said, a small teasing grin on her lovely face.

"Uhh… what do you mean?" Scott asked, not sure where she was going with her question.

"You said years ago it wasn't really cheating because you didn't actually sleep with her… physically," Jean said.

"I was a dick, Jean. A complete and utter asshole. Can't we just chalk that up to the whole Apocalypse messing up my head thing?" Scott said, sheepishly.

Jean's face turned serious. "I'm sorry too, Scott. I should have been more understanding of what you'd been going through. I shouldn't have let you push me away so easily. I'm sorry I put the needs of the school first before our marriage… We both definitely could have done things differently in our marriage."

"Does that mean you're willing to give us both a chance to do this right this time around?" Scott could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had no doubt Jean could feel it. He wanted it so, so badly.

"Scott… I…" Jean hesitated.

"You said, 'no matter what'," Scott said, brushing aside a loose strand of Jean's hair from her face. He could see the conflict inside her. She always had a very expressive face.

"I said what?" Jean asked.

"You told me that you loved me no matter what. It's how I love you. If we can love each other so completely, so unconditionally like that, then I know we can be together… Even stronger than before," Scott said.

Jean scoffed. "Love was never our problem, Scott."

"Yeah, you're right. And there wasn't a single problem we haven't been able to overcome in all our time together, Jean. It didn't matter if it was an angry flaming bird bent on eating planets, or being thrown thousands of years in the future, or vengeful clones or even death… we've overcome them all. I cannot accept that for all we've been through, we can't overcome this problem."

Jean laughed. "I guess when you put it that way…"

Scott held Jean just a little tighter. "My happiness has always been in your hands, Jean. I know you're not doing this to punish me, and even if you were, I couldn't blame you. But I know this arrangement isn't making you happy either. If you really still do love me, then how could you possibly be content like this?"

Jean gingerly turned around in Scott's arms. She gently cupped his cheek and said, "I'm not." Scott wasn't sure what happened next, but his next conscious thought was that he was kissing her. And to his everlasting joy, she was kissing him back. He wanted so desperately for her to feel his love and devotion in that kiss. He wanted his love to melt away the shadows in her heart that he himself had put there.

He continued kissing her, never wanting to stop. His desire for her was at a fever pitch. He could tell she wanted him just as much. They'd been deprived of each other for far too long. This wasn't mere lust. It was a desperate need to be reunited with his soulmate. Scott was about to take things further, when he remembered Jean's wound. It was like being splashed with ice-cold water. But before Scott could pull back, the door to their shack burst open.

"What the hell?!" Scott immediately put one hand on his visor, ready to protect Jean.

He wasn't expecting what he saw next. "Looks like you weren't expectin' the cavalry just yet, bub," Logan drawled, taking stock of the shack.

"Obviously not," Emma Frost said, walking in behind Logan.

Scott had never felt more annoyed at being rescued.

To be continued…

Okay guys, I need you to throw ideas my way here… I've hit something of a writer's block. Not sure where this fic should head next. All ideas welcome. Thanks for reading.