Forget Me Not

Chapter One – Oblivion

A/N: With all my ongoing stories I probably should not be uploading another one, but this idea has been nagging me for a while and I've always wanted to incorporate it somehow in one of my other fics but bleh! I'm new to this pair but damn it, I am in love with their dynamic.

He who forgets himself in love, remembers the future

– Charles de Leusse

Even before Deidara opened his eyes, he knew he was in hospital. At the blurred edges of his awareness he vaguely registered the sound of heels clicking against the tiles, the swish of curtains, hushed murmurs and of course the god awful stench of blood and antiseptic. But amidst it all was the faint smell of something uniquely feminine.

He half opened his eyes. The light blindingly bright, making his pupils contract painfully. He had to squeeze them shut for a moment, blinking repeatedly. He caught a flash of pink and he narrowed his wincing gaze to the nurse standing at the end of the bed with a chart in her hands.

He lifted himself upright in the bed instantly, "What the hell am I doing in here?"

The woman clipped the folder on the end of the bed before coming to lay a gentle hand on his shoulders, easing him back down. He flinched beneath her touch, "Calm down sir. You're in the hospital—"

"No shit. Well aren't we observant?" he grumbled sarcastically.

"—you were in a car accident two weeks ago and have been in a coma since then," her emerald gaze fell on his face and a tender smile graced her lips. "I'm sure your wife will be relieved. She hasn't been sleeping you know and it's no good for the baby."

Deidara felt his heart skipped a couple beats and not in the least bit pleasantly. He frowned and then wished he hadn't as it made his head ache unbearably. He put a hand up to his forehead, his fingers encountering a thickly wadded bandage positioned there.

He discredited everything else she said, only two things resonated in his head.

Car accident?

Coma?

He felt like he was trying to find his way out a complicated maze without his sight. What accident was she talking about? He looked down at his sheet and hospital blanket-covered body. Though he felt sore all over, he seemed pretty much in one's piece.

There was no plaster cast on any of his limbs, so he obviously hadn't broken any bones. The only indication that he had suffered any form of trauma was probably the throbbing in his head. But that could also be credited to his frustration with the nurse and her attempt at good morning jokes. Still he made notice of the IV leading from a vein in his hand where it was laying on the top of the bed.

But nothing seemed to add up.

He stared at the nurse, his heart still thrashing unsteadily, his stomach rolling over, "Listen here little lady, I don't know what kind of game we're playing here, but it's over," he growled, clamping his free hand around her wrist like a steel vice.

For a second or two she looked a little thrown, but managed to effortlessly twist free. His grip was anything other than iron, in fact the little blood in his knuckles drained away in all his effort to hold onto her.

"Maybe I should have the doctor talk to you about this," she suggested, glancing over her shoulders expectantly, perhaps in search of support.

Wife?

Baby?

Those words were just as familiar to him as a sandstorm was to the North Pole. Was this some sort of sick joke? He wasn't even dating; heck he was still in high school! His father would have his head on a silver platter if he ever knocked up a girl. She must have mistaken.

"I see you're finally awake," A talk busty woman, equally a blonde as he was swished the curtains around his bed closed. "You were always the one to give us the nastiest scares."

He recognized that voice anywhere.

"Nana?" he glanced up at her through his still blurry eyes, thinking that she looked a little older than the last time he saw her. Which was…he couldn't remember. "What is going on? Why am I here? What is this non-sense talk of a baby?" the nurse forced him to lie back down once more and he scowled at her.

Tsunade gave her grandson a reassuring smile, "You've suffered head injury child," she sighed. "We'll have to conduct further test because clearly you've suffered some memory loss."

Deidara put his hand of his head again, "Don't be ridiculous, I don't have amnesia. I remember who you are."

She rolled her eyes, "Do you even know what year we're in?"

He thought for a moment but knew he was only guessing. When he told her she laughed and corrected him. He blinked in horror, "Are you shitting me nana?"

A stern look washed across the woman's face, under different circumstances she would have wacked him across the head. But maybe a slap was exactly what he needed. "No, I am not shitting you Deidara," she said with a straight face, her tone flat though emphasis had been placed on the word shitting.

He drew an uneven breath, "That's ten years more than it had been yesterday."

Tsunade placed her hand over his where it was lying on the bed clutching the sheet in his finger. "Take it easy," she said soothingly. "I know this is a little confusing and frightening. But in time you'll come to remember everything. It just takes time."

He yanked his hand out from under hers, examining it like it was foreign to his anatomy. His mouth fell open so wide at the sight of the golden band that it almost fell to his chest. His heart exploded like field mines being set off and he released a horrified shriek.

His stomach gave a funny little quiver and it had nothing to do with hunger.

Think. Think. Think.

He scrunched his eyes closed and forced himself to concentrate but his head pounded sickeningly as he tried to recall the last few days. It was all a blur, a foggy indistinct blur that made little, if any, sense.

When Deidara opened his eyes Tsunade had already moved through a gap in the curtains and a short time later they twitched aside again, the rattle of the rings holding the curtain on the rail sounding too loud inside his head.

"Dei-dei!" he heard the sound of little feet scampering across the ground, and then something landed heavily on his chest.

He yelped, glaring at the creature before him. It was a little girl of no more than four or so years. She had the most beautiful head of chestnut curls he had ever seen and matching brown eyes that rivaled dark chocolate.

She landed a sloppy little kiss on his nose and giggled.

"Nana told me you were awake!" she said in a high pitched voice that grated on his nerves until he squirmed. "Come Daisuke, Dei-dei is awake!" she yelled over her shoulders.

He fought with the urge to push the brat off him. He hated children and this one was nothing short of annoying, with her pouty pink lips and big, pretty eyes. And damn it, did she have to be sound loud? If this alleged accident wasn't causing his headache, then the piercing shrill of her voice certainly would have initiated one.

"Silly girl get off him," a voice snapped.

He felt his spine prickle when he came face to face with a boy the splitting image of himself. If he didn't know any better he would have thought that a younger version of himself had stepped out of his photo album. Blonde hair, blue eyes, even the bang—it was uncanny. Either his father had been a very busy man or Deidara was hallucinating. He decided it had to be the latter and wondered which shameless young hussy these kids belonged to for his father was an old man.

"Don't be so bossy, Nana said I could greet him," the girl rolled her eyes at the boy who in turn stuffed his hand in his pockets and scowled.

"Nana said greet him Harumi, not kill him you idiot!" he pointed out almost matter-of-factly.

"I'm telling kaa-san that you're calling me names again!" she fumed, slamming her fist into Deidara's chest in an outrage.

It knocked a good amount of air from his lungs.

He cleared his throat, his fingers beginning to pluck at the hem of the sheet in an effort not to strangle the little twit. "Get off me!" he breathed icily.

The child gave a little shiver, her velvety brown eyes losing the excitement that had lingered earlier. She scurried to her feet immediately, hiding behind the boy who sent Deidara a chilling glare. He opened his mouth to say something but he was beaten him to it.

"You were never a morning person," Inoichi said picking up the petrified young girl who buried her face in his neck, wetting his neck with her tears.

Deidara twisted his head to meet his father's gaze. "I thought Ino was the last brat."

"She was. These brats are yours," the man told him pointedly

"Mine?" he spat, almost laughing at his father's statement. "Are you going senile old man?"

Inoichi shook his blonde head in response as the children exchanged horrified looks. How could he not recognize them?

"You know I hate kids. Ino was always such a little shit back—" he paused in midsentence as a thought stuck him; he glowered looking fiercely around the room. "You can come out now little sister, I get the joke and it isn't funny."

They all just stared at him like he had suddenly sprouted another head.

"Is he really awake?" came a soft, feminine voice slithering across the room. Deidara felt the skin on his back tingle all over again at the sound of her voice.

"And just exactly who the hell are you?" he demanded, thoroughly exasperated by the presence of so many strangers when he wasn't particularly looking his best. He was going to have Ino's head if this was her idea of an April fool's joke. But he couldn't quite dispel the feeling that it was rather too chilly to be April.

She came to the side of his bed in a couple of not-so-steady strides, her presence a little unnerving as she stood within touching distance, looking down at him. "I'm your wife."

He had no hope of disguising his shock. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to get his voice to work. His brain was flying off in all directions, confused, frightened, lost. How could this be? How could this woman be his wife?

He hadn't realized how suiting the thought of her voice as slithering was, until he caught sight of the woman, and the smile she sent him wrapped itself around his lungs, stalling his breath. For a moment or two he just stared at her lips, they had a sensual fullness about them—that he struggled to identify with. He sent the tip of his tongue out to the roof of his lips. Had he kissed that mouth before? If so, why couldn't he remember it?

There was nothing remotely very familiar about her. He studied her face for endless seconds, his confused mind struggling to place her. He didn't recognize any one of her fragile features. Not her perfectly tanned skin, her neat eyebrows that arched above stunning amber flecked eyes or that silky length of auburn hair. He neither recognized her rounded figure nor delicate hand poised on her swollen abdomen.

He glanced at her slender fingers, her nails were well manicured, donning French tips and cut low. He caught sight of the platinum band around her finger along with square-shaped diamond halo ring in fourteen carat white gold. That shit looked expensive; certainly his allowance alone couldn't have covered a quarter of what it must have cost.

It was ridiculous to be married at seventeen. He must have died and went to hell.

His eyes slowly moved up to the bump before her. His chest tightened and his breathing halted.

Either she was fat or had a massive tumor, he thought reassuringly to himself.

Or she was pregnant, a voice taunted.

He moistened his choppy lips again, trying to find a way out of the confusing labyrinthine maze of his mind. "How can you be my wife, I don't even know your name."

"It's Tenten."

He gaped. "That's an actual name?"

She gave him the evil eye.

He put his hand to his aching eyes, pressing his fingers to the corners of his eyes. "It doesn't ring a bell."

Something like disappointment flashed in her eyes but she managed a firm gaze, "Tsunade said it wouldn't," Tenten touched him then. Her hand coming down over his like his Nana's had, but her touch was warmer, in fact it came with a blistering heat that scoured his skin as she pinned it beneath her own. "None of it will make sense at—"

He flinched, his eyebrows twitching uncontrollably at his reaction to her. "Like hell it doesn't make any sense. I only go for red-heads and blondes!" he added, "With stick figures…"

She withdrew her hand almost instantly, only for it to connect with the side of his jaw. There was a tiny flicker of nerves pulsating by the side of her mouth. "Don't even go there," she warned in a low, grating voice.

Deidara turned his head to the side, placing his palm on the throbbing place that her dainty little hand had just struck. He was absolutely seething with annoyance and fury. How dare she raise her hand at him?

"Listen here little hussy, violence is not going to magically make me remember some brown cow and two little shits that I've never seen before?!" He growled, blue eyes darting angrily over at the brunette. "So if that's your solution then you're wasting your time, chubs."

She just stared at him, lips parted, evidently dumbfounded.

A/N: Yes Deidara thinks he's 17 regardless of the fact that he's ten years older. The accident erased the last ten years of his life so he has no recollection of it. And yes, the coma lasted two weeks. Just clearing that bit up.

What are your thoughts? Please review to let me know if I should continue or pull the plugs on this story. I don't hesitate when it comes to calling something quits. I am certified quitter. So review to let me know.