She laid a cool hand on his cheek, trying to not be hurt by the way he scooted away from her, eyes darting around the room as his muscular chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

She'd been warned about it, but she wasn't prepared for the blankness in his eyes. The blank look in his beautiful hazel eyes that saw only a stranger instead of a lover. That saw someone other than her.

"Logan..." she soothed, trying to keep her voice from trembling, "Relax... You're okay..."

His breathing is erratic, frantic. Fast-paced. He doesn't know her, no matter how hard she tries to convince him he does. His instincts tell him he does, but he just can't remember her.

His breathing isn't slowing down, she thinks, near tears as she strokes her lover's cheek. It's still harsh, loud to her ears and louder to his. He's probably forgotten what his breathing sounds like.

Just like they made him forget her.

"Logan..." she near sobs, brushing his stubble-lined cheek gently as the man she's trying to calm sits trembling, inches away from her, "just relax. Please calm down."

"Who are you!" he cries out, and her heart breaks into tiny fragments. Now it can only be mended by the one whose forgotten. Forgotten them.

Forgotten her.

With a cry she falls into his lap, tears staining the pants with tears and making the man she so desperately wants to remember her shift uncomfortably.

How couldn't he remember her!

Remember them...

The face that stares back at him from the mirror he doesn't know. Doesn't recognize. Can't relate to.

And it's his face.

Hesitantly, fingers brush over rough stubble on his cheeks, unfamiliar dark eyes taking in the black hair. The hazel eyes.

None of which he recognizes.

They told him, through a haze of anguish and pain that for some reason he could smell so clearly, that his name was Logan and that his codename was Wolverine. Neither of them fit him.

They told him about the mutation he had- a healing factor and the adamantium claws. About his heightened senses. About being a feral.

It didn't mean a thing to him.

His mind is still curiously blank- senses on high alert for a danger he can't identify and doesn't want to. Empty voids where memories should have been gape wide in the mind-scape he envisions for himself.

Abandoning trying to recognize his own face, he sinks to the floor, letting the tears of frustration and anger and grief and sorrow at things he doesn't remember pour out of his eyes. Let's the emotions flow.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, he didn't see the angel of his thoughts crying in the bathroom doorway. Nor did he see said angel bend down towards him, cool fingers cupping his chin and forcing him to look her in the eye.

Her arms fold around him, the warmth and comfort she provides wrapping about him like a blanket as he sinks into the embrace, relishing in the feel of it.

He may have forgotten his identity and everything that made him who he was, but his instincts haven't forgotten her. His angel. The one who could help him and drag him out of the pit he's fallen into.

And even as his tears spill onto her arm and she plants a soft kiss on a damp forehead, her name rises from the depths of his traitorous mind, through the hazy clouds that replaced the memories and he gladly seizes it. Pulls it to the surface of his mind and let's her name roll off his tongue. He says it like he's said it a thousand times before and maybe he has. He can't remember.

"Ororo..."

Her grip tightens just a little as he relaxes into his angel's arms.

old story, but posting it on here just for feedback. If you want, imagine another person in Ororo's place, but this is strictly supposed to be RoLo.