Victor woke to someone's warm breath tickling his neck.

Shifting his head slightly, he opened his eyes and saw an asleep Logan- well, the back of an asleep Logan's head, which was currently resting in the crook of his own neck. Blinking in confusion as the events that had happened flew his mind, he stared down at his brother. When asleep... Logan looked so much like Jimmy...

As if hearing his thoughts, James stirred against him, hazel-green eyes opening blearily, only to see skin before his eyes. Alarmed, he tried to move away, only to have an arm trap his escape. "It's only me."

His mind still hazy, half-fogged with memories, his defence mechanism slipped into place. "Is that supposed to be a comfort?" he scoffed, half-struggling to move, yet not really trying. He felt drugged, his movements slow. And he felt... different. Safe? Why on earth did he feel safe? In all his fifteen years of memory- he couldn't yet count the new memories as correct ones, he'd never felt this safe. In fact, he'd never felt safe at all.

Victor chuckled, one hand resting on his brother's back to prevent movement. "I know that tone of voice, James."

Logan stiffened, something which Victor noted with some degree of interest. But, he moved his arm anyway, and slowly Logan scooted away from him, sitting up on the other side and studying the window. Victor knew well enough that it was only a disguise. "You... weren't lying."

"I don't lie as often as you think," the elder responded slowly, sensing- as he had always been able to do- Logan's confused state. "Or know."

His younger brother looked at him over his shoulder, hazel-green eyes studying him intently, and for a single moment Victor could only think that he looked just like a teenager again. "I don't know how often you lie," he said after a moment's silence, "but..."

"But what, Runt?"

Hazel-green eyes met ice blue, and a silent stare off happened before Logan looked away. "How old am I?"

The question was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome for Victor, and the elder sat up slowly, mulling over how to break the knowledge of their own age to a (technically) complete amnesiac stranger. "You were born on June the fifth, 1835. You're 170, 171 this year."

Logan tensed, and the change in his scent didn't go unnoticed. "What's my name?" This time, the question was barely a whisper, and Victor wondered for a moment if Logan was really wanted to know his name- who he was, anything about him in generally.

Course he would, he just asked, didn't he? But Jimmy would be like that...

Moving forward so he could touch his brother's shoulder with one hand, Victor did so, deciding on breaking it to him in the gentlest, yet bluntest way possible. "James Logan Howlett... but," he swallowed, wondering if he should add it, "but I... call you Jimmy."

Logan almost looked round when he said Jimmy, but froze at the last second, staring at some point between the wall and Victor's head. A silence fell, before Logan slowly stood up. "James Logan Howlett."

He walked off, mumbling his name under his breath, one hand clutching the dog tags round his neck tightly, as if he were afraid that if he let go he would forget everything again. He had every reason to believe such a thing- yet Victor wouldn't let it happen.

Victor couldn't help but smile as he walked out of the room, pausing only to stare at his brother's retreating back half-way down the hall before following a reasonable distance away to set at ease his brother.

So maybe he wasn't quite ready to be called Jimmy just yet, but it was definitely a starting point.