Disclaimer: Well, I don't own the X-men. Mmm. Surprising. Yes, disclaimers are boring.

A/N: This is the first fanfic I've posted. Er, reviews would be nice. Yes. There's more stories and chapters if people review. looks hopeful

Reborn

Sunrise. The first rays of morning light glinted off the still waters of a mountain lake. Calm. Peaceful. No trace remained of the horrible test facility which had been there. Nothing was left. The sun climbed higher, and deep inside the lake, something moved. The waves grew rougher, though there was no wind. The lake tossed a still form to its side, and then subsided.

A young woman lay on her back, half-in, half-out of the water. Her reddish hair lay about her like a halo. She wore a black, business-like suit, soaked and torn by the water. Her form lay motionless for a time.

Then, with a tiny whisper, her shoulders moved, and her chest began to rise and fall. She moaned a little, but did not wake. The sun continued its ascent. A gentle breeze played through the woman's hair. The sun warmed her, but did not waken her.

At about noon, a humming roar was heard, an engine. A sleek gray craft crested the mountains which cradled the lake. The plane descended almost silently to land among the trees. Across the lake, the woman began to stir.

A man exited the plane. He wore a plain black sweater, and black denim jeans. Strange, black and red glasses covered his eyes. The breeze tossed his brown hair about playfully. He was carrying a bunch of wildflowers. His lips moved, forming a word. "Jean," he whispered and made his way down to the side of the lake. The woman was not in his line of sight.

He knelt by the water's edge. The sun shone down through the waters of the lake, as far as the eye could see, but there was nothing there but water and sand and rock. The man had seven flowers in his bunch. He threw them, one by one, onto the still, glassy waters of the lake. A daisy…a buttercup…a pansy…a bachelor's button…a lily-of-the-valley…a harebell…and a rosemary…they floated on the water in a never-ending, sluggish dance. The man sighed. Again he whispered, "Jean." The woman's eyelids fluttered.

The man sat back on his heels and looked up into the sky. "I don't know if you can hear me, Jean," he spoke sadly, "But I miss you." The woman moved her head from side to side and gave a little moan. She tried to push herself up on one elbow.

The man looked bitterly at the lake. He hit it with his hand, sending up a spray of water. "Damn you, you cursed lake! You killed her!" He put his head in his hands. The woman recognized his voice. "Scott?" she called softly across the lake. He didn't hear the call.

The woman shook her head. "He can't be here," she murmured. "I can't be here. Scott! Is that you?"

This time the man heard. He looked up. He could make out her shape, far away across the water. His eyes widened. "Jean? It can't be…"

"It's me, Scott."

"But you're…"

Puzzled, almost sobbing, Jean took a step forward. Before she knew it, she was in the air, flying toward him. His eyes widened in shock. She landed in front of him, just as he stood up. "Scott…" she whispered.

"Is it really you?" he asked, taking a step closer.

A tear ran down her cheek. "I…don't…know…" she said slowly. Real or not, he couldn't bear to see her this unhappy. He held out his arms. She stepped uncertainly forward, and he drew her to him for a kiss.

As they broke, Jean began shivering. "You're cold," Scott said. He took off his sweater and put it around her shoulders. "Let's get you home."

"Home?"

"Home to the school."

Jean nodded, still shivering. Scott put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the jet, which stood waiting nearby.

A man sat in a wheelchair, looking out the window. Sun shone off his bald head. His blue eyes seemed to be searching for something. Immediately behind him, a younger was standing silently. His arms were crossed over his chest and his dark hair was shaped into two symmetrical crests.

"Do you see him?" he asked. His voice was low and rumbling.

"Yes. Scott's coming home now."

"Why did he go, Professor?"

The Professor turned slowly around in his wheelchair to look the other man in the eyes. "He misses her, Logan," he said simply.

"So do I," Logan growled, roughly swiping at his eyes with his arm.

"I know you do. We all do. But you must remember, it was her choice."

"I know, I know. That doesn't take the sting away from it."

"I understand, Logan."

Outside the window, the gray jet banked sharply and landed smoothly in front of building, in the middle of a basketball court.

A girl with two streaks of white in her long brown hair was sitting on a bench near the basketball court, her eyes puffy. A boy had his arm around her.

"It's okay, Bobby," she sniffed. "It's just…when Scott went to the lake…I can't help thinking about Jean…she helped me a lot…almost as much as Logan."

"Shhh. I know, Rogue. I know," the boy whispered. Rogue looked up. "Oh, look. There's the jet. Why isn't the basketball court opening?"

"It's broken. The teachers are going to fix it tonight."

"Oh."

On the basketball courts, the door to the jet opened, and the ramp extended. Two figures were clearly visible, one helping the other down.

"Oh, my God, Bobby!" Rogue cried, clutching at his shirt.

"Rogue? What is it?"

"Bobby…that's Jean!"

Someone knocked on the door to the Professor's office. "Come in," the Professor called.

"Professor Xavier, look!" Scott almost burst through the door, his arm and jacket wrapped around a shivering, dripping woman, near to tears.

"My God…" Xavier said slowly. "Jean."

In Xavier's office, a group of people crowded around his desk. Logan, Scott, and a woman with white hair, but dark skin and eyes.

"What's going on?" the woman asked.

"It's Jean. She's alive," Scott replied.

"She can't be! Are you sure it isn't…Mystique, or somebody?"

"Storm, Scott, calm down," Professor Xavier's voice cut through the budding argument. "The facts, as we know them, are these: Jean sacrificed her life to allow us to escape from the water. This morning, Scott took the jet and went up to the lake where she died. He found her there, alive. I realize this seems to be a contradiction in terms, but it is true. In answer to your question, Storm, it is indeed the Jean Grey we know and…" he paused, looking hard at Scott and Logan, "…love. However, she has undergone a change, an evolution if you will. Her spirit is the same, but her powers have changed. She can now fly, and there may be other new powers that we shall discover in due course. But do not treat her as a different person. She has been through a great deal, all of it for us, and she does not deserve our suspicion."

Storm nodded, but then burst out, "How is this possible!"

"I do not know yet. I do know that when mutants' powers manifest in adolescence, it is during periods of great emotional stress. That may have some bearing on Jean's case. Now, all of you leave. I need time to think. And, Logan,"

"Yes, Professor?"

"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times: Please have the courtesy to put your cigar out when you are in Cerebro, or in my office!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Scott entered the darkened room on tiptoe. He could hear moans coming from the bed. "Jean?" he called softly.

"I'm going to die…I have to do this…Oh, Scott, I'll miss you…I…I…" her voice trailed off and Scott saw her mouth open in a soundless scream. He ran to her side. "Jean! Wake up! Jean!"

She came awake with a start, and clutched at him like a small child wakened from a nightmare. "Oh, Scott," she murmured, "I could feel it…water…there was water everywhere…above me, below me, all around me…it was all black…Scott, I couldn't see! And I couldn't breathe! God, Scott, I'm dead! What am I doing here!" She began to sob.

"Jean…stop…it's real. I'm here. You're not dead. You're not dreaming." He kissed her softly on the lips. "Was that a dream?" Wiping her eyes, Jean shook her head and smiled weakly.

"Would you come with me to see Professor Xavier? He just wants to talk for a while."

When she didn't answer, Scott put his hand under his chin and tilted her face up. "Jean?"

She nodded. "Sorry about being such an idiot," she sighed.

"You're not an idiot. It must have been terrifying."

She grinned weakly. "Oh, and Scott…I didn't have time to tell you before…you might want to tell Logan to stay away from me again."

"What did Logan do?"

"Oh…nothing."

Scott said nothing, but kissed her again. She blinked away tears. "Thanks," she murmured, and left the room.

"Professor, the last thing I remember is not being able to breathe, and thinking, 'Oh, God, I'll never see Scott again', and then I woke up on the shore of the lake in broad daylight."

"Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice once remarked," Xavier said tiredly. "Oh, Jean, don't worry. You are undeniably real, and not a ghost or a manifestation. I just don't know what caused it."

"That's not what's bothering me, Professor."

"What is it, Jean?" he asked gently.

"It's just that—I should be dead. I died, Professor, and I shouldn't be here."

"No, Jean. You are here, which is the best proof that anyone needs that you should be here. Ask Scott. Somehow I don't think he would think you shouldn't be here."

"You really think so, Professor?"

"I really think so, Jean. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Professor."

Jean got up and left. The door shut behind her, without the touch of her hand. Professor Xavier smiled a little. "That's my Jean."

A few moments later, Storm entered. She was smiling.

"Yes, Storm, what is it?" the Professor asked.

"I think we've got the answer, and you'll be happy to know that Jean is Jean, as far as I can tell, anyway."

"What is the answer, Storm?"

"There's a metal we found in Jean's bloodstream, and it's—well, extremely peculiar, to say the least."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning that whenever a mutant uses his or her powers near it, the evolution process kicks in again and mutates them further."

"You mean like when Beast took a serum and…"

"Almost. Except that in the case of the metal, it can bring new powers to the fore, as well as developing the old ones."

Xavier's face paled suddenly, and Storm stepped forward, concerned, and laid her hand on his arm. "Professor, what is it?"

"I don't know if you realize this, but…what if Magneto or another of the powerful, unscrupulous mutants were to seize this metal?"

Storm clapped her hand to her mouth in horror, as the meaning of the Professor's words hit home. He nodded to her, "He could become more powerful than any of us have dreamed possible."

To be continued…