A/N: Yippee, we've arrived at the climatic near end of this series! Just this and a lil recap to go! -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Loud.*

*So loud.*

*Voices.*

*Laughter.*

*Scott has such a wonderful laugh. So warm.*

*Wait a minute …. Married?*

That word spoken by someone who sounded a lot like Logan stirred memories in me.

*Scott and I were to be married.*

*Loud footsteps - someone wearing heavy shoes.*

*Beeping.*

*Where am I?!*

*Ugh, it all hurts my head.*

My head is pounding.

I try to lift my hand to it, but find I can't.

*What's wrong with me?*

~*~

*Lights, bright, shining straight into my eyes.*

A vaguely familiar voice speaks again, his words have no meaning to me though.

*Where do I know that voice from?*

Another man speaks, asking a question of the one I'm trying to identify and the second voice I recognize with every fiber of my being.

*Scott.*

I hear him talking a lot.

I keep trying to talk back to him, but I can't.

I try even harder to look at him, wanting so much to see his face again, but my eyelids are like lead curtains and they will not lift.

The voices fade, both men obviously moving away from me.

*Don't go, I cry to them.*

*Don't leave me alone.*

I can't say the words aloud though and they cannot hear me, so I am left alone as the blackness swallows me again.

~*~

*Something was parting my lips and pushing into my mouth.*

Frowning, I fought the intruder.

It persisted and I realized it was a spoon.

I relaxed and the utensil slid into my mouth.

Liquid hit my tongue and the spoon was removed.

*Chicken broth.*

The spoon returned and sensing more of the warming liquid, I opened my mouth for it instantly.

*It tasted good, too.*

The spoon entered my mouth full of broth and left it empty more times than I could count until finally I had had enough.

When I refused the spoon at that point, the person wielding it did not try to force it in again.

Lips suddenly touched mine and I realized sleepily that must have been Scott.

*But he only feeds me when I'm sick ….*

~*~

"How is she?" a voice asks.

*Why does everyone always ask that?*

Pushing aside that thought, I focus on identifying the voice.

*The Professor.*

*Was I at the school?*

"Stable," said that vaguely familiar voice that always answers when people ask that question.

"Do you think it would do any harm if I try to communicate with her?"

*The Professor again.*

*"Communicate with her?"*

*Was he talking about me?*

"I think it may be too soon for that. Give her another day to wake up and if she doesn't, we'll do it your way."

I sense the Professor move closer to me, then I recognize the feel of his hand touching mine.

*I like that.*

*Scott holds my hand a lot.*

I have a vague memory of Ororo doing it too while I've been in this haze.

Wanting to be touched, I hold onto the fingers wrapped around mine.

"Jean?" the Professor asks anxiously at my movement.

*He had felt it!*

Excited, I squeezed harder and tried to open my eyes to look at him.

"Jean, can you hear me?"

"What happened?" Scott asks, worriedly.

"She's gripping my hand," Xavier replies.

Suddenly his hand is removed and replaced by Scott's.

"Jean?" my love says, leaning over me.

I squeeze his hand.

He kisses my lips, obviously pleased by my small action.

I moan, loving the feel of his lips on mine again.

He yanks them away at the sound and I whimper.

"You can hear me, can't you?" he asks, his lips near my ear. "Open your eyes, baby."

I try to do as he says.

My eyelids part to allow a mere glimmer of light inside and the movement tires me.

"That's it, Jean. Open your eyes for me."

*I want to.*

*I want to, baby.*

*But I'm tired.*

*So tired …*

~*~

*Water*

*There was water everywhere.*

*So dark. So very very cold.*

*It's swallowing me.*

*Can't breathe …*

*Mustn't try to breathe, I'll drown.*

*I am drowning.*

*My lungs were going to burst.*

*Rolling, pushed along under the water by the force of the current.*

*Can't see…*

*All black.*

*Dying…..*

*I slam into something hard and there is nothing more.*

My body jerks at the images, fighting to escape them.

*It was a nightmare.*

*I had to be dreaming.*

A movement of my head sends pain through my body like a bolt of lightning.

I cry out and suddenly Scott is there.

His hand grips mine and he's talking to me, telling me it's ok.

"Here, let me give her this," that voice I've finally identified as Hank McCoy's said.

*What?*

*What is he giving me?*

Scott lets go of my hand, moving away, and I feel Hank replace him at my side.

"No," I yell, trying to go after Scott.

"Jean?" he gasps.

He looks horrible, I think.

Then I realize what that thought means.

*I can see him!*

"Scott."

*Is that my voice?*

*It sounds so different.*

*So weak.*

"Oh my God, Jean!" he pushes Hank aside and takes me in his arms.

*AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, God, that hurt!*

The blackness calls to me again and I go into it, clutching my brief glimpse of Scott's unshaved face tightly to my soul.

~*~

Something wakes me.

Some faint sound I couldn't place.

I struggle to open my eyes, wondering what it had been.

It takes four tries, but finally my eyelids part and I can see, but not what had made the sound.

The first thing I see if the distinct architecture of the medlab's ceiling.

*I knew that's where I was.*

Turning my head a little to the right, I see the heart monitor on which my heartbeat is marked by lines on the screen and beeps from the machine.

Scott enters my line of vision and I smile, forgetting all about sounds.

"Scott." I whisper, loving his name.

He grabs my right hand and kisses the back of it, staring at me with tears running down his face.

*Why is he crying?*

A sob escapes him and he kisses my mouth hard, making me realize I'd spoken the thought aloud.

"Give me a moment with my patient," Hank orders moving Scott aside.

*Patient?*

Puzzled, I stare blankly at him as he leans over me.

The doctor shines a penlight into my eyes, checking my pupils and I glare at him for that.

He smiles in apology and moves to take my pulse.

Satisfied with that, he puts on his stethoscope and places it against my chest.

The metal is cold and I again glare at him.

He ignores that glare and continues listening for a moment.

Finished with he little tests, he removes the stethoscope from his ears and smiles at me.

"Welcome back."

"Where have I been?" the question leaves my throat as a squeak.

He frowns slightly at that. "How much do you remember, Jean?"

"Of what?" I frown.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Yes. I'm at the school. In the lab."

I try to sit up and find I can't.

"Jean," Hank places a restraining hand on my shoulder. "You've been injured. Can you remember that?"

I hurt, I acknowledged again to myself.

I'd been hurting for a while now it seemed.

Fragments of thoughts I'd had recently came together and I realized I was indeed injured.

"How?" I asked, my question answering his.

"I know it's frustrating, but I think it would be best for you to remember that yourself. I can tell you that you're going to be all right. In fact, your condition is improving at a fantastic rate."

"Why can't I sit up? Why does it hurt so much to move?" I demand.

"Your body colliding very hard into a tree, I'm sure you will eventually remember how that came to happen yourself, and the collision broke many bones. I've placed nearly all of your body in a cast to help those bones heal. I'm afraid it will be at least another week before you can really sit up."

Scott and I both gasp at that.

"Another week?" I ask.

"Yes. You were injured a week ago. A week ago today."

"What day is it?"

"It's Sunday."

Sunday, I think.

*What had happened last Sunday?*

~*~

*Lasagna.*

*I smell lasagna.*

*Man, it smells good.*

Opening my eyes, I turn in the direction my nose says the smell is coming from.

I close them again for a moment as a twinge of pain hits me at the movement.

Once the moment passes, I open them again and see Scott and Hank seated at a table a few feet away. Each of them had a plate before them and on each plate was a large portion of lasagna.

My mouth watered and I felt as if I hadn't eaten in forever.

Their heads snap in my direction and I realize I must have made some noise to draw their attention.

They look at one another for a second and then rise to walk quickly to my side.

Scott stands back reluctantly and lets Hank lean over me first.

The doctor quickly checks my vitals again, this time warming the stethoscope before placing it against me.

"Excellent." He says when he steps back, finished with his little tests.

Scott pushes forward eagerly at that and grabs my hand.

"Hey, baby," he says, leaning down to kiss my lips.

"Hi," I reply weakly when he ends the caress.

"How you feeling?"

"Hungry," I think of the lasagna that had woken me.

He smiles at that, lips parting to reveal a glimpse of his perfect white teeth.

"I'll go heat some soup," Hank says quietly.

I groan at the thought of more soup and demand, "Lasagna."

They share a look and Hank returns to my side. "I'm sorry we tempted you with that, but it's still too early for you to have such solids."

Scott saw my begging expression and turned to plead my case, "A bite or two couldn't hurt."

Smiling at the dual assault, the doctor reluctantly nods.

Scott kisses me briefly before darting off to get his plate.

Without speaking, he stabs his fork through the layers of pasta, meat and tons of cheese, ripping away a small chunk and offering it to me.

Delighted, I take it into my mouth, but am surprised to find chewing and swallowing the morsel to be difficult and the last actually painful.

Frowning at that, Scott put the plate down on the over-bed table Hank had silently moved into a position over my stomach.

"What's wrong?" He demands.

"Hurt," I croak.

He looks to Hank.

"I figured that would happen. Try drinking some water, your throat could just be dry." He says, having seen my painful swallowing.

Scott immediately empties water from the pitcher on the table he set his plate into a glass and turns to give me the liquid.

I gulp it down eagerly, only then realizing my throat was parched.

Seeing that I'm drinking too fast, Scott removes the glass watches me swallow that mouthful before returning it to my lips.

"Sip it, Jean. Just take small sips or you'll make yourself sick."

Hating that he was right I obey, but still the glass is emptied quickly. He replenishes the supply and I take a few more sips.

With my throat feeling immeasurably better, I look at the plate of lasagna again.

"Want to try again?"

I nod slightly and he picks the plate up again.

The second forkful goes down much better, but chewing was still too difficult and I grew frustrated.

Hank returns, apparently leaving without our noticing it, and carefully sets a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table.

"Don't worry. Your face has been very badly bruised and it's sure to be stiff, making chewing painful. Once they finish healing, you should have no trouble eating. Perhaps until then, you'll listen and eat your soup." He chastised having seen my reaction to that second attempt at the lasagna.

I blushed and allowed Scott to feed me the soup I'd been brought.

I silently mourned for the lasagna, but gladly consumed the soft noodles and tiny bits of chicken offered to me by a spoon.

I quickly tired and with another kiss on my lips, Scott watched me go to sleep.

~*~

*I wasn't alone.*

I sense a lot of people, not just Scott or Hank with me.

They're whispering.

Talking about me.

Waiting for something.

*Who's there?*

I open my eyes slowly to answer that question.

*Where are they?*

I tilt my head to the left and see nothing.

Turning to the right, I see Scott approaching.

"Hi," I whisper brokenly at his approach.

He takes my hand again and kisses it before saying Hi back.

Suddenly, Ororo is beside him leaning over me.

They were quickly joined by Kurt, Rogue, Logan, Xavier, Hank and lastly by a somewhat reluctant Bobby.

Hank moves through the crowd to do his usual check of my vitals, this time taking a moment to warm his stethoscope before listening to my breathing.

"How are you feeling, Jean?" the Professor asks when he and the others are again allowed by my bedside.

"Hurt," I give what's become my standard answer.

"Hank has told me that you do not remember how you got hurt. Can you tell me the last thing you do remember?"

I try, but it's all so hazy. The pain has been filling my mind for too long.

Sensing that I was getting frustrated, he lays a hand on my shoulder and smiles at me.

"It's ok, Jean. It's perfectly natural not to remember right now."

He's silent for a moment and I turn to look at the others huddled around me.

*Why are they looking at me like that?*

*Like they … can believe what they're seeing.*

"Jean, do you remember Alkali Lake?" the Professor asks cautiously.

I search my mind for anything matching those words and, after a few moments, gasp at what I find.

"We made it?"

Silence greets my quiet question.

"Yes, Jean." The Professor finally says, his voice breaking over the words.

I watch a tear roll down his cheek and he takes a moment to regain his composure before continuing. "Yes, Jean, thanks to you, we made it."

At his words, Rogue and Ororo begin crying. The women quickly turn into the waiting arms of the men behind them, Ororo to Kurt and Rogue to Logan.

I notice that the men also have tears in their eyes.

Bobby, Kurt and Logan swallow almost at the same time, keeping any tears from falling from their eyes.

"Why are you all crying?" I demand.

A tearful Scott moves forward to kiss me and then answers, "Because we made it, Jean. We all made it back."