A/N: This has been a truly enjoyable story to write and I'm almost sorry to see it end. I hope you all are as satisfied with this final chapter as I am. Yes, it's kinda sappy, but again, this is a romance so I figure I can get away with it. ;-)

I would like to thank the folks who encouraged me with their reviews: BlackDog616, Omelia, KrazyFox13, ninjamonkey20, Seph7, bookdreamer17, Chaos2279, IsabelleBlue, and a special shout out to franky who wrote one of my favorite reviews ever. It makes me smile every time I read it.

Thanks everyone!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sabertooth or any of the X-Men characters in any universe that I'm aware of.

I'm not making one red cent from this story. I'm just havin' some fun.

You're such a pretty face, radiant

I saw you across the room, I knew I had to have you

Thus started the chase, I knew I would do anything

To take your hand and make you mine

But I learned long ago if you love someone

You have to let it go, let it go, let it go

The hardest part of letting go

Is saying goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You severed away in a makeshift cell

Beneath the venomous moonlight

Why unleash my plan to watch you fail?

And why am I so afraid?

—from The Hardest Part of Letting Go … Sealed With a Kiss by Megadeth

Letting go was such a simple thing, and yet the hardest to do.

The clothes Tessa ordered for Victor arrived. For some reason, instead of sending them back she brought them home with her. She sat on the living room floor with the boxes stacked in front of her. Her slender fingers traced the seam that poked through the layer of brown packing tape on the lid of one of them.

It was not unlike the process of mourning she went through after each husband died. First were the days of constant weeping, lying curled up in her bed, hugging the pillow that still held his scent. Then came the long weeks of numb despair, interspersed with moments of intense emotion, violent tantrums, maudlin tears. The anguish brought on by every little object that reminded her of him, and her inability to part with them. It would be months, even years, before she got rid of these things, piece by piece. Washing away the smell of him from every bit of fabric. Putting things in boxes, tucking them out of sight only to pull them out again from time to time, such moments growing less and less frequent. Then finally, taking them out of the house altogether, giving them away, selling them. Each item removed meant letting go a little bit more of the life they'd shared. A healing factor could only do so much. Some wounds would only scar over with time. Then one day she would discover she was alright, if not exactly the person she was before. She would be able to move on.

Victor wasn't partial to motorcycles like Jimmy was, but he had to admit this semi-borrowed bike was a sweet ride. He sped along the highway, the tails of his long coat flapping behind him like a cape, grinning wildly as he hunched over the handlebars. Jimmy had emptied out his wallet so Victor could refuel along the way, but there wasn't enough to spare for a motel. Victor didn't mind; he didn't plan on stopping any longer than it took to fill the bike's tank and push on. He was anxious to get back to Tessa. With any luck, and the fewest possible stops, he would reach the forest in a couple, three days. He could get by without sleep for that long, easy. Besides, when he slept he dreamed of her.

In some dreams he and Tessa made love and Victor woke hard and wanting, reaching for her only to find himself alone. In others he wandered the woods, hearing her call out his name, unable to find her no matter how fast he ran or how loud he shouted back. Still others she screamed abuse at him, said she hated him and would never forgive him for abandoning her. But by far the worst was the one recurring nightmare in which Victor found himself in the clearing and saw Tessa outside the cabin doing some kind of chore, and Victor ran to her laughing in relief and calling her name, but she didn't react, not even in anger, just kept working, and no matter what he said or how hard he tried, she wouldn't look at him. That was the worst because Tessa felt nothing for him—not sadness, not hate, not love—he didn't matter to her anymore.

But whatever he dreamed, good or bad, he always woke with an empty feeling inside him, like something vital had been cut out of his body. It had always been this way; he just never noticed it before. Without Tessa he was hollow, and hollow things broke too easily. They were weak. Victor could not be weak and survive. He needed to be strong, even if it meant needing someone else. It was a seeming contradiction he didn't question.

The motorcycle ate up the miles. He saw the wall of trees loom far ahead. Home, the word reverberated through his bones. His excitement increased as the terrain grew more familiar. There! The spot where his car was driven off the road, not far from the place where the horror that befell him set in motion all that happened since, bringing him to this moment now. He drove on a little farther until he saw the turnoff, so easily missed. The motorcycle didn't slow as it slewed into the sharp turn, tires kicking up sprays of dirt as they fought for traction on the unpaved trail. The stately trunks on either side were a green-brown blur as the bike roared into the forest's interior.

Tessa had to be aware of his return. What would she do, Victor wondered. Would tree roots burst out of the ground to yank the bike out from under him? Would the trees lean down to block his path? Would hanging branches batter him as he sped by? None of these things happened. Victor dared to allow himself a little optimism. Maybe she wouldn't need much convincing to take him back after all. Whatever her feelings, though, Victor had no intention of leaving again. If Tessa used her powers to their full extent to keep him out he'd find another way back in. Charter a small plane so he could parachute in; dig a tunnel a mile deep and ten miles long; hire an army of lumberjacks to cut the fucking trees down; he didn't care what it took. Victor was a selfish bastard who always got what he wanted sooner or later, and what he wanted was Tessa.

The motorcycle's engine sputtered. Victor glanced at the fuel gauge; running on fumes. The bike died and coasted to a halt. Fuck it, he'd walk. Victor let the bike fall to its side and started hiking. Despite his exhaustion from the weeks of constant travel with little or no sleep, his stride was swift and determined. After a few moments he started to jog, then run. His heart hammered in his chest. Anxiety and anticipation fought for dominance. He was eager to see the familiar cabin and yet dreaded the confrontation to come. Victor wasn't the sort of person who dawdled when faced with difficulties; he rushed headlong to meet it so that he could defeat it that much sooner. After a few minutes he dropped to all fours and loped with feline speed towards his destination.

Tessa raised her own fruits and vegetables, though "garden" was hardly an accurate description for how she went about it. No orderly rows, no weeding or raking, no fertilizers or pesticides. She would empty packets of seeds into her hands and scatter them over a convenient patch of ground as if she intended to feed the birds. The seeds always took root. Flourished, in fact. They would produce their crops well before and long after their normal span of time, regardless of whether a particular fruit or vegetable was in season or not. Tessa's patch was a riot of corn and beans, strawberries and squash, tomatoes and pumpkins, carrots and beets. Any self-respecting gardener would pull his hair out at the sight. In a rational world such an unruly mass of contradictory plants shouldn't work, but for Tessa it did. This year, however, would be a late start. Though she scattered the seeds at the same time she always did, Tessa couldn't motivate herself to influence the song. She was still aware of it, the same way a person was aware of traffic in the city, or murmurs in a crowded room. Nothing more than background noise. Yet another symptom of her mourning. Sometimes after losing a husband it would take as much as a year for her to return to the music. She was numb with grief, going through the motions of day to day life without really experiencing it.

The last seeds dropped from her hand. She let her arm fall to her side, stood gazing across the clearing. A breeze whispered through the new grass shoots, rustled the branches of the trees, riffled Tessa's short hair. The sensation was distant from her. Her eyes stared blankly ahead.

"I was thinkin' …"

Everything stopped, even her heart for a brief instant. The fragile barrier which held her emotions at bay trembled. Tessa's body turned of its own volition to face the source of that haunting voice.

Victor leaned casually against the trunk of one of the oaks, face set in his trademark smirk. He was dressed all in black: jeans, workboots, shirt, and a long black trench coat, all rumpled from days of hard travel. There were dark shadows under his eyes, the only visible sign of weariness.

Tessa stared at him, then felt her mouth form the word, "What?"

He straightened, sauntered towards her. The sight of her brought a burning ache to his core. He couldn't tell what she was thinking and that made him nervous, but Victor pressed on regardless. "Before the next winter comes around I gotta have an entertainment center. Don't get me wrong, all this pristine nature's great and all, but I'm the sorta guy who has t' see some explosions once in a while, even if they're only on a screen."

He came to a halt, less than a foot between them. Tessa's face was devoid of all expression. She answered dully, "I see."

The worry that gnawed at his gut flared. Victor could've dealt with just about any reaction from her. Even hatred, because at least that meant she still cared enough to feel something. But disinterest, that could only mean he didn't matter to her anymore. That there was nothing left.

Victor felt his confident mask slip and didn't try to fight it. It was so easy, and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done; letting go of all his defenses to leave himself vulnerable to her. "I'm sorry."

"Are you." Her monotone response tore at him.

Victor forged ahead. "I fucked up when I ran off. I found the place where they burned me and I just … it all came rushing back into me. All that rage. It was all that kept me going my whole shitty life. I didn't know anything else." He took half a step closer to her; Tessa didn't react. "I found the guy who started it, the ringleader," he said, voice low and intense, "I took him out to the country and I was gonna burn him like he did me. I almost did it."

A flicker of something in her eyes. "Almost?"

Victor nodded. "But I didn't. I let him go."

Her lips parted, a faint crease appeared between her eyebrows. "Then why …" She couldn't bring herself to say it; Why didn't you come back?

Victor heard the words anyway. "I figured out what I wanted that night, but a guy like me can't just drop everything to start a new life. Not if he doesn't want the old one to come back and bite him in the ass. I took care of all of it, Tess. I haven't stayed in one place more 'n a few hours the whole time I was gone. I had t' make sure everything was done." He spread his hands in a gesture that said look at me. "This's all that's left, Tess. Everything I own I'm wearin'. All the money I had, all the apartments and houses, all the grudges and debts, they're all gone. I gave it all up for you. There's just me now."

Throughout his speech he saw Tessa's face slowly change. Her brow furrowed, her eyes welled up, and her chin began to tremble. Her crumbling facade flooded Victor with relief. Even when she whispered the words, "You bastard." Even when she hit him. Not an open-handed slap either, but a full-on punch which, though clumsily executed, caught Victor off-guard and caused him to stagger back a couple of steps.

"Agh! Fuh'in bi' my tongue!"

"You fucking asshole!" Tessa screamed and crashed into him, pummeling him with her fists and shrieking curses. Victor just stood there and took it, knowing he deserved it. Only when her blows began to weaken and the sobs leave her incoherent did he put his arms around the crying woman and hold her against him. She struggled at first, then slumped against him, weeping. "You left me," she wailed against his shoulder, "You didn't leave any message or say anything. You just left. You left me alone."

"I'm sorry," he said, stroking her short chestnut hair, "I swear t' god I'll spend the next hundred years makin' it up to you. I'll do anything I have to t' make things right."

After a few more choking sobs she started to pull herself together. "What makes you so damn sure I'll take you back?" Her arms tightened around him.

Victor smiled. "Doesn't matter if you do or not," he murmured in the delicate shell of her ear, "I won't ever let you go."

At those words, Tessa closed her eyes, let out a shuddering breath. The tension eased from her body and she relaxed against him. She sniffed. "You'll do anything?"

"Yeah."

"Even let me pick out the movies for your stupid entertainment center?"

A soft chuckle. "Sure."

Tessa drew back just enough to look Victor in the eye while their arms remained around each other. "I want a whole shelf of nothing but romantic comedies," she said, "And I wanna spend an entire day watching them. Both of us." Her tear-streaked face was utterly serious.

There was no pretense in the look on Victor's face. The prospect of such a treacly marathon obviously made him want to retch. He sighed. "'Kay, if that's what it takes."

The corners of Tessa's mouth twitched. "I hate romantic comedies."

Victor blinked, then bared his fangs in a broad grin. "Thank god."

Tessa laughed as he pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

They shed their clothes. Victor spread his coat on the ground and lay Tessa upon it. She fully expected to be ravished, but instead Victor explored every inch of her body with light touches, licks, and kisses, from the top of her head all the way to her toes, pausing for a while when he reached that special place between her legs. Telling her through actions what he still couldn't bring himself to speak aloud. Victor had finally learned to be gentle. But Tessa wasn't in the mood for gentle. She sat up and pushed him onto his back, straddling him in one swift move. Victor chuckled as she began to nip and scratch at him while her hips rolled in hard, delicious thrusts. She encountered a nipple in the forest of hair on his chest and took it into her mouth. Her tongue flicked against the sensitive nub. Victor moaned. His broad hands ran up and down her spine, the tips of his claws leaving welts on her fair skin that quickly vanished. Tessa released his nipple and straightened, quickening her pace. Victor's hands grasped her hips while she gripped his forearms. They stared intently into each other's eyes, neither saying a word. Victor knew she was close. He saw her eyes widen, then squeeze shut. Her head tilted back to expose her slender throat. Short, strangled cries escaped between her clenched teeth. Victor suddenly lunged upward, his arms went around her and his lips crashed into hers. Tessa moaned into his mouth. The hair on his chest was soft against her breasts. She clung to him as they both came, their cries muffled by the kiss. Their lips finally parted as they came down from their shared high. Their foreheads touched. Tessa smiled. "I can hear it."

"What?" Victor asked, though he already knew.

"The music. The song. I can hear it again." She caressed the hair on his cheeks. "It's so beautiful." Tessa drew back. Her head swiveled, taking in their surroundings. She smiled. "Look."

Victor looked. The clearing was covered in wildflowers. The seeds Tessa had scattered earlier were now vines and plants in full bloom. Tessa laughed, her face aglow. Victor stared at her radiant joy and the words slipped out unhindered, "I love you."

Startled, Tessa's smile faded a little, then widened as her happiness increased to almost blinding brightness. "I love you, too."

Victor never knew anything could hurt so wonderfully. He lay back on his spread-out coat and pulled Tessa down with him, tucking her head beneath his chin. They lay together in contented silence.

"I went 'n' saw Jimmy," Victor said a while later.

Tessa smiled, her eyes still closed. "How is he?"

"Doin' good," he meant that in every sense of the phrase. "Wanted me t' tell you he said hi, and that he's grateful for everything you did for us as kids."

"I'm glad he's okay."

"So 'm I," he said quietly.

Another long period of silence, in which Victor felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was on the brink of dozing off when Tessa murmured, "Victor?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is there a motorcycle lying in my woods?"

Oh. "I brought it. How th' hell d'you think I got back?"

She nuzzled him. "I thought you said you didn't own anything but the clothes on your back—though I guess they're mostly under your back right now."

The feral chuckled. "'S not mine. Jimmy let me have it."

"So it's his?"

"Nope."

Tessa snorted laughter, her shoulders trembled. "God. You two are incorrigible." It was a phrase she'd uttered more than once when Victor and Jimmy were boys, with the same laughter in her voice.

"Damn right." He rolled them over and pinned the woman beneath his weight. "Gonna have your work cut out for ya if you wanna straighten me out." He nibbled her throat. "Could take decades."

Tessa's head arched back, offering him better access to her vulnerable neck. "Mmm. I'm willing to put in the time. I think you just might be worth it." She slipped her arms around his shoulders and drew him into a kiss. The trees around them rustled their new leaves in the spring air. The sound was a sigh of contentment.