And here we are -- the last chapter of this story that never officially happened because I don't own the characters or the world and don't get to make decisions about them. This is my first completed fanfic, and it's been a helluva ride. There is a sequel in the works, titled Supplementary Angles, and I'll post it after my beta readers are done ripping it to shreds and helping me stitch it back together.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this final chapter. Thanks for staying with me through all of it!

X X X X X

Scott collapsed into the chair behind his desk. The media had descended with a speed that suggested they had several telepaths in their ranks, and he hadn't been injured enough to beg off an interview. But the special forces teams couldn't be seen on television, or their ability to do their jobs would be compromised, and Logan had been swarmed almost as wildly as he had, so he'd spent a few minutes answering questions before rejoining the teams and taking off for China Lake.

They hadn't lingered at China Lake before boarding the Blackbird and returning to Westchester.

The SEALs and Delta teams had bunked down in the same guest rooms they'd used when they'd stayed for training, and Scott had wanted nothing more than to hold Jean, but she'd been called to the infirmary for a minor surgery that shouldn't wait, and it would be morning before he saw her again. Dammit.

So he'd ended up in his office, turning on the computer just to check email. By the time he finished that, he should be ready to collapse into bed.

"You might not want to check that account."

Scott looked up as Charles rolled into the room. "The general information account? Why not? I figured I'd send a few routine answers and call it a night."

"There are eight hundred and twenty-two emails waiting. Or there were when Marie checked an hour ago."

"Eight hundred --?" Scott stared at Charles. "I didn't think that account got that many in a year."

"Most of them within the last six hours."

Since he'd appeared on television, and mutants had become the topic of the day. Scott sighed. "Sorry."

"It just means we'll need to hire a few more instructors," Charles said. "And perhaps look at adding another building or two."

"And more staff, and separate the X-training from the school." He shook his head. He'd known when he chose this path that it would take both the school and the X-Men in directions he hadn't anticipated. This was one of them.

"None of which are bad in and of themselves."

Scott raised an eyebrow as he looked at Charles. "No? It means we can't be the refuge we've always been."

"So we'll create a different kind of refuge." Charles sounded unruffled. "One that is safer more by virtue of its publicity than by its secrecy."

"It's not what you wanted for the school." He'd fought Charles over the future of the team, but never the school. The school, he'd thought, would remain as it was.

"But it is what circumstance has forced on us," Charles said. "As much as I hate to admit it, you were right."

"I wish I hadn't been. I wish --" Scott broke off. There was no need to finish that sentence. Charles knew he wished they hadn't had to kill Charles's oldest friend.

"Better to face reality head-on than to have it blindside you," Charles said. "We hid here too long, Scott. You were right. We can't do that any longer."

"I never expected you to agree," Scott said finally. He knew Charles had read his surprise, but the other man was too polite to say so.

"I am stubborn," Charles agreed, "but I am not stupid. The situation would be much worse if you hadn't already established relations with the government."

"It took humans and mutants working together to stop Magneto," Scott agreed. "In a way, we should be grateful to him, because he made our point more effectively than any testimony before the Senate or public appeals."

"But at too great a cost." Grief and sorrow lined Charles's face for a moment, then he straightened in his wheelchair. "That cost is paid, and we must look to the future. What have you been thinking?"

"That I want a hot shower and bed," Scott answered, and Charles actually chuckled.

"I meant, about the school and the team."

"I know." Scott knew the other man knew it, too. "I think we need to separate them a bit more, especially if we're going to have a jump in enrollment."

"That could be difficult, considering that everyone on the team is also a teacher."

"So we hire more staff, people who are strictly teachers. We'll have crossover, to be sure, but we can keep it to a minimum."

"What kind of minimum?"

"Logan and I will teach one class each, to give us more time for the team work. Jean will be lead physician for the team. Ororo --" he smiled just a little -- "Ororo would prefer to be a full-time teacher and perhaps assistant headmaster, helping out the team only when she's needed. All of us need backup, because we don't know when the team will be needed."

"You have thought this through."

"No, that's just the obvious stuff. Along with a new dorm."

"Additional staff quarters, as well," Charles said.

"I have a few thoughts on that," Scott said, "but I need to talk to others first."

Charles gave him an inquiring glance, but Scott knew his shields were strong enough the other man wouldn't pick up any bleedover, and Charles was too polite to snoop. After a moment, Charles nodded.

"There's a lot to do before the next term."

"We'll have a team meeting after Logan and I get back from Washington," Scott agreed with a grimace. "Official debriefing tomorrow morning."

"You chose that, too," Charles observed. "You can't expect the assistance without following their rules."

"Some of their rules," Scott agreed. "It'll be a hell of a challenge."

"One you're looking forward to."

"Yes," Scott said simply. "I am."

- - - - -

Even after all her years as a physician, Jean was always started when the cell phone at her hip vibrated. Tonight, though, she was also irritated. She'd come home hoping for quiet time with Scott, but had been called to the infirmary almost immediately to deal with a broken fibia that had punctured an artery. Billy was resting after the surgery, and she'd come to the kitchen for a light snack. What new emergency demanded her attention?

"Jean Grey," she said into the phone.

"Are you wearing your lab coat?" Scott asked.

What kind of question was that? "No, I changed out of scrubs after surgery."

"Too bad. I was looking forward to peeling it off. It's sexy as hell, you know."

"It's a smock," Jean said. "How can it possibly be sexy?"

"Anything's sexy when you're wearing it. So what are you wearing?"

"T-shirt and jeans," she answered automatically.

"See? Sexy. The T-shirt clings and the jeans show off your legs. You have great legs."

She laughed. "You'd have an answer like that no matter what I said, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. You're sexy, Jean. At least to me, and I'm the only one who counts."

"You are, are you?" She must be tired if she couldn't banter any better than that.

"Yeah, I am."

This time, Scott's voice had come more from the doorway than her phone, and she turned to see him standing there in his own version of T-shirt and jeans. The image registered for an instant before he crossed the room to take her in his arms.

This was what she needed, just to be held, to feel herself warm and safe in the circle of Scott's arms, his heartbeat steady and strong and reassuring. The dam she'd kept on her emotions since they'd left the Bradbury Building burst, and she clung to Scott.

"I killed him," she murmured against his chest. "I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to save lives, and I killed him."

He held her while the worst of the emotional storm passed, and then said quietly, "Let me in."

She'd said the same thing to him once, and he'd done it, even though he'd been certain it would mean she rejected him. She could do no less now, and she yielded to the gentle pressure of his thoughts.

For long moments, they just stood there, thoughts twining, melding without words.

You're still a good person, he told her. It's not a betrayal of who you are or what you believe.

Isn't it? She had to ask, even though she felt his certainty, his belief in her, through the link. The oath I swore binds me to maintain the utmost respect for human life. Now I've taken one.

That oath also bound you to serve all humanity, Scott reminded her. Was it a greater service to humanity that he live?

"When they gave me the white coat," Jean spoke aloud, though they were still linked, "it was the proudest day of my life. They read every version of the Hippocratic Oath, and the modern Declaration of Geneva. And above all they emphasized first to do no harm."

"You know what he planned, Jean. Was the greater harm in killing him, or in letting that happen?" He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I made the same criticism to Charles, you know, that living in an ivory tower blinds us to reality. And the reality is that sometimes there are no good choices. Sometimes there's just the lesser of two evils. Good people regret being forced to choose, but choose the lesser one."

Jean nodded. What he said made sense, but it would be a while before she fully accepted it, if she ever could. For now, it was the balm she'd needed to begin her own healing.

"Thanks."

Scott hugged her close again. "Any time."

For a moment longer, she allowed herself to rest in his arms and in his mind, but they were both exhausted and the thought of their bed upstairs was seductive.

He read her thought, of course, and turned her so that his arm rested on her shoulders and they could walk side by side.

I like being linked with you.

She smiled, tightened her arm around his waist in a one-armed hug. I like it, too. I like falling asleep still linked.

They'd reached the stairs, and he urged her ahead of him, his hand resting at the small of her back. I wish there were a way to make it permanent.

Permanent?

Why so surprised? She felt his amusement, then he sobered. You were right. I hid from you. A permanent link wouldn't let that happen. We could support each other, not misunderstand each other.

Jean was quiet even in her thoughts until the door to their room closed behind them.

"There might be a way," she said, interrupting Scott as he was pulling his T-shirt over his head. She felt his question through the link and added, "The professor and I talked about it once or twice. Theoretically. I was too scared to try, before, with my power so unstable."

"But now you can?"

"Theoretically," she emphasized. "I don't know that it'll work."

I'm willing to try if you are.

Jean nodded, took a breath to steady herself. It would be the most delicate manipulation she'd ever attempted, and with the one person she cared most about in the world. "Ready?"

He grinned. "Can we do it naked?"

She laughed, grateful for the release of tension. "Sure, but don't distract me, or a lot worse could happen than falling into the pool."

"I won't. During," he added. "After, you're fair game."

"Insatiable." She pulled her own T-shirt over her head.

"You've never complained before."

"And I'm not now."

When they were both undressed, he climbed into bed and opened his arms for her. "No distractions. I just want to hold you."

She cuddled in close to him. "Relax, okay? Let me do this."

"You're the boss for this, boss." This time, his humor was to cover his own nervousness, at least outwardly. He wasn't trying to hide it inwardly, and she was grateful for that.

Let me in. Deep. Deeper than I've ever been, she told him. Between his relaxing and her gentle probing, she eased down until she found his very core, the essence that was Scott.

She hovered beside the core of him, stripped her own self to its core the way she'd learned when Charles first began working with her.

That was the easy part. Now she had to transfer parts of each to the other without destroying either of them in the process.

Instinct guided her now, not theory, and she merged their cores. She became Scott, and he became Jean, and they each were both and separate. The trick would be to take a part of him with her when she withdrew and leave a part of herself behind, still keeping each part attached to its whole.

Slowly, gently, she pulled back from the merged ScottJean, felt his anguish at losing the deepest connection they'd ever made, and reassured him.

Then she was back in her own body, her own self, and she was certain her expression was as dazed as Scott's was. But she wasn't alone.

He smiled, slowly. "You're still with me. Just a little, like a touch."

She laughed, relaxed against him. "Successful test of theory."

"It's going to take some getting used to." She could sense him probing at the part of her still with him, like a child worried a loose tooth.

"You'd better," she teased. "I don't think I can undo it."

"I don't want you to." He was serious. "It's new and strange, but I'm glad it's there. I told you I want to share my life with you, and this is the deepest sharing I can imagine."

"So does that mean you don't want to get married after all?"

"No, not at all. Maybe it's not as pressing a desire as it was an hour ago, but I want to."

"Logan's going to hate it, you know."

"Hate what?"

"Being your best man. Well, the wearing a tux part."

Scott stared at her. "How'd you --?" And then he got it, and laughed. "Right, link. Definitely take some getting used to."

"Mm-hm. We can work on it."

"Tomorrow," he agreed. "Right now, I just want to hold you and enjoy it."

She cuddled into his arms, content.