A/N: To head things off at the pass: I don't currently have any plans to write proper a sequel to this story. I'm not ruling it out some day, but I'd like to focus on shorter works for the time being. It is possible that some related short scenes might appear in my new Victor-centric drabble dumping-ground: Bite Sized. I also have a couple of new Victrie and Rogan one-shots in the works, so you can be on the lookout for those, as well.

I really want to thank everyone that has read and reviewed because without your readership, this story would still just be a half finished idea rotting away on my hard drive. I hope you've all enjoyed the journey as much as I've enjoyed writing and sharing it.

Chapter 13

He heard the voices, first. Far away; like he was underwater.

He fucking hated water.

The scent comforted him. It left sometimes, and that irritated him. The murky, floaty feeling followed soon after it left.

He wanted the scent back.

Victor felt a slight weight on his chest. Feather light taps accompanied the shifting mass.

He tried to raise a paw to swipe away the nuisance, but his arm was too damned heavy. He growled lazily, instead.

A high voice shouted at him.

"Kitty!"

Slowly, he allowed an eye to slit open.

"Kitty! WAKE UP!"

The stark, white light was blinding, so he got his bearings via scent. The runt was there letting that damned little squirt from last night at the carnival dance on his chest. Shit, he must of have gone down at some point and the X-Men, being the goody-goody pains in the asses they were, took it upon themselves to save him.

The fact that Jimmy was in the room with him as his guard only confirmed it.

He didn't feel like he usually did after an injury, though. He felt lethargic and slow. The fucking collar must- Oh.

Victor tried to sit up and failed as the world spun around him. He collapsed back to the bed, losing the scant the few inched he'd gained.

"Fuck."

"Fuck, fuck!" The child repeated enthusiastically.

Maybe it was little Rogue that drained his ass. He scented her, too, warm and sweet, but it was hours old. Gone.

"Dammit," The younger feral muttered.

Victor rumbled tiredly, and the weight abruptly disappeared.

"Kitty go night, night?" The high, little voice asked.

"Yeah, kid, Kitty go night night. Hank. Take'er would ya? I ain't too keen on bein' a lightning rod when 'Ro fries my ass for-"

Victor jolted into consciousness.

Still in the sterile, white room. Jimmy was nodding off in the corner- cutting a bleary eye at him where Victor stood with claws fully extended.

"Dammit, Victor, it's after midnight. Go back to fuckin' sleep."

What the hell?

Victor? That wasn't right. Logan knew him only as Sabretooth or Creed.

One thing at a time. He wasn't the most patient of men. So, the one thing at a time had better come pretty damn fast, even if he was still getting his bearings.

He felt better than he had in years, though, and didn't give a fuck what time of day it was. He got the sense that he'd been sleeping too long anyway. Victor ripped the wires and electrodes away, and he abruptly noted the lack of weight around his neck.

He'd known the damned collar had been slowing him down and sapping some of his strength, but damn. No wonder why he felt fantastic.

He heard James grumble about him being a pain in the ass.

"You do this, then?" Victor asked, pointing to his neck.

James shook his head, settling back into his seat as he swiped a hand down his face. "Not me. Now, sit."

He pulled out a cigar and lit it. Almost as an afterthought, he flicked Victor the lighter and tossed him a smaller package of cigarettes.

Something was definitely up. James even got the brand right. He met the smaller man's gaze, and it was hard, but one of recognition, rather than the vacant glare he'd grown used to.

Victor plopped his ass down on the bed he'd vacated.

James eyed him shrewdly, as Victor took a drag. The nicotine didn't do much for him, but the taste-

"What's the last thing you remember?"

That was easy.

"Little Rogue drainin' your ass," Victor smirked. "Tangoing with some wannabe gangsters."

His brow furrowed, as he remembered briefly rousing before when the kid had been in here.

"Little bitch drained me too, huh?"

Jimmy looked disappointed. Like he had the right.

"That was two months ago, Victor."

He shot up off the bed.

"The fucks going on? I been down two months?"

"Nah. Just a couple weeks," James paused looking for the right words.

Well he'd better find them pretty damn quick. This conversation was surreal, and Victor wasn't sure he cared to hang around for the rest of it. Especially, if Jimmy remembered who the fuck he was, and it was Victor missing a month plus worth of time.

"You were decapitated for a good half hour before we reached you," the younger feral continued. "And got a healthy shot of Adamantium in your gut, which, by the way, you're allergic to, dipshit. Took you a while to heal up. …Glad you did."

Decapitated? What the fuck had happened? Not knowing made him antsy, and now, he sure as fuck wanted outta here.

"Sit your ass back down. Stormin' off ain't gonna fix anything. Believe me."

Victor ground the cigarette stub into a surgical metal tray, and ignored his brother. Still the annoying-as-hell voice of reason.

"Fuck you, Jimmy."

He made it as far as wrenching the door open, at which point he was met with a wide-eyed Rogue, who had been poised to knock.

"You're awake," she said breathlessly.

He caught a glimmer of something- of her riding him, flushed and breathless and fucking perfect. Fantasy or memory, he didn't know which.

The animal rose up in him faster than he thought possible with the certainty that she was his in every way that mattered. To hell if he couldn't remember the details of it. He pushed back, trying to remain in control.

Victor caught his brother shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. The woman's face fell, and her eyes darted away.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you. I- just. No smoking down here. Professor's orders."

Misery oozed off of her in thick, bothersome waves.

"Glad you're awake, Creed."

She wouldn't even look in his direction as she said it, and he scented salt.

That wasn't right. The whole encounter was wrong.

Then Rogue turned and fled.

Victor set off after her but was yanked back by the smaller feral.

"You know what's good for you, you'll let the fuck go, James," he warned.

"Just a minute. You even know what you're going to say to her?"

He didn't have a clue. His whole universe may have been turned on its head but he needed to get back to her. His instincts demanded it. Logic be damned.

"The fuck does it matter to you? She's mine!"

"Great sentiment there, bub. Sure she'll fall all over that," Logan snarked.

"Fuck you, runt." He was a broken record tonight, but he didn't care.

"Dammit, I'm not finished. For once, you're the one that doesn't remember a goddamned thing, so, listen up. Jeannie said your recent memories may come back. Some of it, or all of it, …or none of it. Some kinda trauma mumbo jumbo. Doesn't matter. Right now, you need to figure out and decide where the hell you stand. I don't want Marie hurting over you more than she already is."

Victor didn't want her hurt; he just wanted her. The smart thing would be to leave Jimmy and the Rogue in peace, turn tail, and get the fuck outta there. Immediately.

But then, no one had ever accused Victor Creed of being smart.

He didn't remember her. He knew her- abstractly, as he did before everything happened. But he didn't remember her.

Victor didn't follow her, which was... good.

All she wanted was to fall apart in peace, and she couldn't rightly do that with a pissed off, amnesiac feral breathing down her neck. She'd been worried sick for weeks now. First with Logan, and these last two over Victor.

When it became clear that he was healing and that he would make it, she had been overjoyed.

But then words like "brain damage" and "massive neuronal die-off" had been thrown around, tempering her elation. They'd kept him sedated until yesterday, when his brain scans had finally approached normal.

Though he lived, he might not remember- her or maybe anything- and even if he remembered, he might no longer care.

Lucky her, he didn't remember their time together, much less care. So, that would be that.

It was enough, Rogue convinced herself, that Victor was alive and his memory loss was practically negligible. She knew she would never catch his attention in that way again. Their entire relationship had been due to the circumstances.

It was fine.

She wasn't sure he'd really grown to love her as she had him, anyway.

Hell, she'd even thought he'd betrayed her for a good ten minutes. That probably spoke volumes. Regardless, they had been doomed from the start, and there had never been talk of after. It would be easier this way. A clean break.

The cloying pain in her chest would pass.

But not fast enough.

Logan's tags weighed heavily in her pocket. He didn't need them anymore. Didn't want them. He remembered, and the tags dredged up something painful. She'd fished them out of wastebasket where Logan had thrown them in a fit of pique.

They found a home at the bottom of her chest-of-drawers. He may want them some day.

She gripped the ring on the heavy silver chain, noting absently when the warm metal and stone bit into her skin. She should return it or get rid of it. The former would mean seeking Him out, and she wasn't ready. The latter just wasn't an option.

She let the metal drop back to her chest.

He didn't leave.

She expected him to take off as soon as possible, but it had been two days since their encounter, and He was still here.

Her updates came via Logan. As far as she could tell, the two of them had settled whatever differences were between them, or had a truce, or something.

She refused to ask after Him, and she could tell that her acting like everything was normal grated on Logan's nerves.

He had spent most of the first morning and afternoon speaking to the professor and being filled in on everything. She'd had a similar conversation a week ago, once it was clear He was going to survive.

Romulus hadn't been as dead as she presumed. When they'd returned for the body, both it and the collar were gone. The fact that he got away chafed, and she was certain this was only the beginning of something bigger. The few flashes of insight she'd pulled from him weren't helpful, and for once she wished she had the full picture she usually got from her mutation pre-Carol. All she knew was that his plans had plans, and Romulus was a bona fide shit-stirrer.

Whatever those plans were, they involved Adamantium- Logan was nearly free of the metal now, save that coating his claws.

As for going rogue and landing herself on national news for the both the ninja incident and the subsequent diner incident, well, suffice it to say that Rogue was still more or less on probation from her X-duties, and practically under house arrest until it blew over and people forgot. Damned Wade.

All that meant was that she was a bored, sad lump with nothing to distract her from her misery. It was maudlin, and she didn't care. She needed time to get over Him, dammit, and knowing that He was up and around and could run into her at any second was almost as hard as the waiting had been.

She went out of her way to avoid Him. It was that, or seek Him out and demand He leave, or maybe demand to know why He was still in the mansion. She wasn't clear on that point; she just knew that she wanted to demand something of him, and that wasn't fair of her.

She didn't expect to find Him sitting on her bed, waiting for her return.

Of course, Victor never did what she wanted him to before, so, why should she expect him to now?

"You've been avoiding me."

"No I haven't," Rogue denied.

She had, but she wouldn't concede that point. He knew that intrinsically. It seemed like she'd just left every room he entered. Her scent still fresh but the woman it belonged to long gone. As with many things over the past few days, it pissed him right off.

"I'm tired, Creed. Can you just go and do this later? Please?"

She was distancing herself- trying to get rid of him. Fuck that.

He shot off the bed and stalked toward her. To her credit, she didn't cower; her back straightened, and her jaw clenched stubbornly.

She was strong. Fucking tiny, but strong.

He could see what about her would have appealed to him because it sure as hell appealed to him now.

He forgot his tirade when he caught the flash of a chain at her neck. Jimmy's tags. Had to be. The flash of jealously overtook his rational thought, and he stalked closer, intent on ripping the metal away. But it was wrong- delicately woven rather than a plain ball chain.

He picked the necklace up by the chain.

Not Jimmy's tags, at all.

It was… his. He fingered the ring that he must have given her. He recognized it from his vault in Minneapolis.

"I- Here. Let me take it off, and you can have it back."

"No."

Her scent was anxious, and it irritated the hell out of him. He raked his claw through his shortly cropped hair. This wasn't going the way he planned.

"I gave it to you. Keep it."

Her face bloomed red.

"Well you didn't exactly give it to me. It was a prop-"

The hell it was. That was a serious damned ring. He let it drop back to her chest.

Shit. He was bad at this. It would be so easy to walk away and forget the whole damned thing. Not like he remembered anyway.

But that was too much like running, and running wasn't his gig.

Besides. The Cat had been driving him up the wall wanting to be near her and drive her up the wall.

"Keep it." He ordered. "You keep it on all this time?"

For an instant, he thought she was going to rip it off and fling it at him. She didn't like being told what to do any more than he did. He tamped down on his own amusement.

"It was stupid," she huffed, defensively crossing her arms. "I know."

She averted her eyes, refusing to look at him. Rogue addressed the wall several inches to his left.

"You here for a reason, Creed?"

Creed again. She wasn't supposed to call him that unless he was being a dick.

"If not, you can run off and go do whatever it is you do, now. I really am tired."

She had expected him to run from the beginning, he realized. If she'd spent any time with him at all, she should know better.

He noted the dark circles under her green eyes, the lank fall of her hair.

Wait. Green?

He cupped her cheek, forcing her to look up at him, and sure enough, green.

A new flash of memory- her bundled under his duster. Quietly feverish and fighting. Him being damned worried- a foreign emotion, if there ever was one. It was his fault somehow, but even with that unsavory conclusion, he was damned pleased for the summoned insight.

He sure as hell hoped he remembered more. There were flickers and impressions, and his instincts were riding him hard, where she was concerned. But the details only came to the fore when he was around her. The X-Geeks had given him the facts as they saw them, but it was like being told a boring story. They didn't stir nothing in his memory. Marie did. And that was just the icing on the cake.

"Yeah. I'm here for a reason."

"Well?"

Her tone was combative, but she looked about ready to crack. He wondered at the last time she even slept. She needed to, and the Cat wanted nothing more than to snuggle up next to her and rest. The desire should have repulsed him, but it felt right, and after two sleepless nights, he was damned exhausted himself.

"I'm staying."

Her brow furrowed, obviously trying to discern his meaning. Victor generously clarified.

"Or you're going with me. I don't give a shit. But you're not gettin' rid of me by mopin' in here all day."

"I'm not moping, you asshole!" She jerked away from his hold. High strung and exhausted. She was either about to claw his eyes out or break down crying.

She had been moping and over him, and goddamn if he wasn't a bastard for liking it.

Victor growled at himself, and focused.

"Look," he started again, staring her dead in the eye. "I don't remember shit. I might not ever remember shit. But I'm not gonna just give you up without a fight. Seems like we got a lot'a talkin' and figuring out shit ahead of us, so let's start from the beginning."

He thrust his hand out, palm up, daring her to take it.

"Name's Victor, Victor Creed."

Her breath caught and Rogue choked out a watery laugh. A moment later, she slipped her deceptively dainty hand into his much larger one.

"Well, then, Victor, you can call me Marie."

"Good." It was settled as far as he was concerned. He nodded once and tugged her along by the hand. "Let's go to bed, darlin'. I'm fuckin' wiped."

"Wait! That's not how this- You are not sleeping- Put those back on!"

That was familiar, for all that it wasn't. They'd had this argument a lot.

"Aggh! You're such an ass!"

"That's what you always say." He nodded again, grinning, as he patted the space beside him on the tiny bed.

"Now, come on."

The End.