Not By The Grace of God Nor Man (X-Men drabble, Jean/Logan, X3...ish?)
Logan stood transfixed by the figure in the middle of the lake, absently rubbing his eyes to clear the film of sweat and sudden tears. The sound of laughter lilted everywhere, familiar and strange. He felt his chest heave and his throat choke. He would know that laughter anywhere, alive or dead.
He almost halfway to the middle of the lake before he realized it, long smooth strokes that cut through the water like a knife, heedless of the weight of his thick-soled boots and leather coat. The figure turned, long hair whipping around her face, and regarded him with unreadable eyes as she skimmed and skated over the water like a water nymph.
"Jean...?" His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but it seemed to echo in his ears as the forest around him fell silent. His hand reached out to her, fingers splaying in an eager haste to touch her.
She reached down and touched his hand with delicate fingertips, a smile playing over her lips as her face was framed by a curtain of flames. Electric impulses sizzled down his arm and made his heart start to beat double time, his vision swimming with dark spots as his limbs grew tired and heavy.
"Wh-who are you?" he groaned, seeing her in shadow, in light, in duplicate, triplicate...so far away.
"I am everything," she answered softly, smiling as the darkness of the water closed over his face.