He stared out the window for another while, his gaze pointlessly roaming over the half-empty parking lot.

He turned around with a sigh, his eyes roaming over the lifelessly white walls, stopping on the humble armchair; how he managed to fall asleep in it, let alone sleep for hours — was pretty interesting. Maybe he really was getting old, his godhood withering away; it did withstand centuries with almost no followers, but it couldn't last forever.

He looked towards the bed.

He needed to get her out of here today. Luckily, she was fine, just a bruise here and there, they were good to go. It wasn't safe to stay in one place for too long; not until they left the country.

She never flew a plane before. He smiled, imagining various possible reactions. He could bet she was going to love it.

She was a fast learner, she would get a hang of technology in no time — that he didn't doubt for a second. There was just one thing that worried him. She was dazed last night, but now she was going to wake up and ask about Gabrielle again. And would be forced to come to terms with the fact that there was no Gabrielle anymore. He wasn't going to tell her about Amy, it would only devastate her more.

Slowly, he walked over to the bed. Was she asleep or not? Her breath didn't seem too deep. "Xena," he said quietly.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked, startling him.

"What do you mean?"

"You called me that yesterday. You said it was my name once."

He frowned, puzzled. "And then you regained your memory."

"What memory?"

"Of Greece? You asked me where Gabrielle was—"

"Who's Gabrielle?" She frowned, a genuine frown that made his shoulders sag.

So, she remembered nothing, again. Why? But, just hours ago — was he just dreaming this?

He exhaled, resigned.

Maybe it was for the better.

It was for the better. Half of their problems were gone this way.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but if it's that past-life nonsense again, I think you might wanna seek medical help, too."

Well, now she was asking for it. "Oh, yeah?" He snapped his fingers and vanished, waited a moment, and reappeared at her side again. Her eyes took up half of her face. "And how would you explain that, huh?"

"No," she muttered, shaking her head. "It's the anaesthesia after-effects. And lack of oxygen." She got out of bed and, barefoot, walked towards the window and opened it wide, inhaling deep.

He chuckled. "You never took things at face-value, I always loved that about you." He let out a deep breath. "But, like it or not, that's the truth for ya — I'm a god. I'm immortal. And two thousand years ago in Greece, your name was Xena and you met me for the first time. That's why I feel so familiar," he said, approaching her and reaching for her waist from behind. "That's why you shiver when I'm near," he whispered, "'Cause I burn inside you… you can feel me there, like a fever." He spread his fingers over her ribcage, pressing lightly, pulling her to his chest, enjoying the little quivers shaking her at each brush of his fingertips.

"I'm just dreaming this…"

"What difference does it make? You're here now, and we've got a life to live." He swept her hair aside, revealing the nape of her neck, tracing upward with the tip of his nose, closing his eyes as the scent of her skin filled him, tightening his embrace on her when she shivered again.

"We?"

"You and I, baby, just as we were always meant to." He nuzzled her earlobe, inhaling, making her tremble more. She could try to resist him all she wanted, but this, when she was in his arms, she was his, and she knew that; they both did.

"I'm not joining you," she protested, her breath short, then shorter the more his palms roamed over her waist and hips.

He smirked inwardly; that phrase he'd heard from her too many times to count. "I know you're not joining me."

"You do?"

"If I'm to be honest — I lost hope for that two thousand years ago."

"So, what do you want from me?"

"You. Us, together. For a start."

"And then what?"

"You'll find out when the time comes."

"I won't." She slipped out of his grip and walked back to bed.

"Same old push and pull, how sentimental." He smirked, the space in front of him suddenly feeling empty.

"If you're immortal, how come you're scared of MB's people going after you?"

He glanced towards where she lied sprawled over the bed, and smirked; nothing got past her, as usual. "I'm not scared for myself. I'm scared for you," he said, staring out the window; the parking lot, still there, still half-full as before.

"I can take care of myself," she said, her voice softening.

He wanted to say that the fact she ended up at the hospital was the best illustration of that, but bit his tongue; he loved their bickering but that would piss her off; she never took ego injuries too well.

The sound of the bed creaking made him look over his shoulder. "What're you doing?" he asked when she put her bag on the bed and starting pulling her clothes out.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving," she said, putting her denims on.

He snickered. "You've gotta be joking."

"I don't have a sense of humor."

"Where do you think you're gonna go? Home? 'Cause I bet there's someone there already, waiting to give you a warm welcome. Unless they just planted trackers and left, then — I take it back, you're good to go."

His smirk faltered as it dawned on him — of course — to get to him, they would get to everyone from his close vicinity.

Unsurprisingly, it was exactly where her thoughts went right now.

"It won't just be me, will it…" she said, her brow furrowing with concern. "The girls… everyone who worked at the club."

He thought about Bouncy and sighed. They didn't have time for this. He needed to get her to safety.

"We have to go," she stated firmly, putting her boots on.

"Oh, so now it's we?"

"You fucked this up, you'll fix this."

He bit down the stupid grin threatening to take over his whole face; by the gods, he loved her. "So — you think you're going to order me about?" he asked, his brow going up in amusement.

"Someone has to." She tied her other boot, rose to her feet and raised her chin defiantly.

"You're not leaving my side until it's safe to." He challenged her with a glare, her eyes sparking so beautifully in response. "And we don't have time to babysit. From here we're going to a hotel for a night, and then we're outta here."

"From here we're going to get a hold of all the girls and that bright bouncer of yours and while we're on it, you'll have time to come up with a way to keep them safe."

"Xena—"

"Don't call me that and don't fucking interrupt me — you've put them in jeopardy, you're gonna fix it."

Gods, she really was mad; he hadn't seen her like this in a long time; not in this life, for sure. "I'll take care of it. You're staying here." He flicked his hand, turning her outfit back to the hospital gown.

"Give me my clothes back and get the fuck out of my way."

"I said — you're staying here."

"I said — get out of my way," she said, the calm tone contrasting with the fire in her eyes, her energy sending a current down his arms, down to his palms, his fingertips about to spark with fire. He didn't know why she was so agitated but right now so was he, her fiery aura setting his own one ablaze. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

"Someone who knows what's good for you…" He stepped towards her, pulled in by the heat radiating off her, breathing it in, feeding off her rage; gods, he forgot how fucking good it felt. She almost felt like her old self, like when he'd first met her.

"Is that your synonym for a patronizing asshole who keeps getting on my nerves?"

"And fucks your brains out as no one else ever has…" He breathed against the back of her head after he swirled her around, trapping her between his arm and chest. "Or should I remind you?" He rolled the gown up her thigh, grazing the skin with his nails, feeling her shiver, the gooseflesh underneath his fingertips. Gods, he loved it; how she froze under his touch, like under a spell; like a rag doll in his hands, every inch of her body dying for him to claim it; few things in life tasted sweeter than this. Nothing did. Her cunt did, slick and pulsing under his palm right now. "Are you always this wet or is it just for me?" He freed his dick from his pants, rubbed her juices all over it and pressed it against her entrance, then flicked it against the other one. "You're so slick I could fuck your ass right now," he whispered, pressing his cheek to the side of her head, holding her tight as she shuddered, her chest heaving, fighting for breath. "That would pacify you quite well," he whispered into her ear, teasing her some more, and bit into her shoulder; not enough to draw blood, but deep enough to mark her, and gods, the fact that she didn't stop him and the soft little moan leaving her lips made him so hard it hurt.

And how he made it not to kill the person who chose that very moment to enter the room, he had no idea; likely only because his brain was still frozen and the only thing he managed was to muster enough focus to flick his hand to get them both clean and dressed so they could face whoever was behind them.

It turned out to be a nurse; her mouth dropping open and cheeks flushing red as her gaze traveled down his body. "Um…"

He glanced down reflexively and raised his brows, smirking inwardly; clearly, the fact that the pants were a relatively tight-fit both helped and didn't; his size definitely didn't; but considering the fact that she made him hard as he never thought was even physically possible, it was still a miracle the seams of the pants stayed intact.

"I… um… I'll be back in a while," the woman uttered.

"Take your time," he smiled, catching a glimpse of her cheeks turning dark crimson before the door closed behind her.

He raised his gaze at her. "Well, I'm a god, not a wizard," he said, grinning at the impish look in her eyes. "There are ways to make it go away, though, if it bothers you." He stepped towards her, the corner of his mouth rising yet higher at the sight of her chest expanding with an abrupt breath, his throat drying up when he imagined her dropping to her knees now, opening her mouth for him.

"There is one way that comes to my mind right now," she uttered, her voice as smooth as her touch on his chest.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he pulled her close.

"Like, think about your mother." She smiled sweetly and gave him a light smooch on the cheek, leaving him painfully hard, dazzled, and dumbly staring at her back disappearing behind the door.

Which was a good thing; it gave him time to cool off and think with his brain for a change. He needed it now.

He sank into the armchair and buried his face in his hands.

She came back after a while; her face slightly flushed, a bit more color to her lips than before, and he got distracted by a sudden thought that she went to the bathroom to relieve herself, that if he grabbed her hand now, it would have the scent of her arousal all over her fingers, and he'd lick them, suck them off one by one, till she'd — fuck — no, this had to wait — they needed to get obstacles out of the way first.

"You okay?" she surprised him with a question when she walked up to him.

"No one's ever asked me that." He blurted out with a smirk, and suddenly felt stupid. And then got lost in her eyes, her gaze turning so warm, like she was about to touch his face; it almost felt like she did.

Drawing in a fast breath, she blinked rapidly and looked away.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he said. "We'll go and do damage control — together — but you're not going home afterwards — we're staying at a hotel."

"What's gonna happen is — we'll go and do damage control — and maybe — if I like the results — I'll think about the rest."

"You really suck at compromises."

"I have other skills, though."

"Oh, that you do." He grinned, making her roll her eyes.

"My clothes." She pointed to the white gown.

He snapped his fingers and she was clad all in black again; her pants, boots and the bomber jacket. "As you wish," he said as he materialized right behind her. "I preferred the gown, though." He grabbed her by the waist, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in. "Loved the way your tits looked in it," he whispered against the side of her head and let her go, heading for the door.

"You coming?" he asked, and bit down a grin when he turned back and saw how hard she tried to stay composed. It was funny, how determined she was to act like he didn't move her; like he didn't make her crazy as much as she drove him to the edge of his own sanity.

He watched her pensively — as she grabbed her bag, frowning as she fished for something inside — and he wondered, if she knew — he did — that it would be her who was going to drive him to his grave.

And that he was going to love every damn second of every step of the way.