A/N: So, this is my first FanFic ever. I love Rogan stories, and was inspired by the song "Unthinkable (I'm Ready)" by Alicia Keys. Like everyone else, I'll just say that I do not own anything. The characters belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, 20th Century Fox, the list goes on… The song belongs to Alicia Keys. The lyrics are centered in bold italics. My mushy brain was only responsible for connecting the two. I hope you like it!

~Moment of honesty.~

She sighed frustratingly, restless. It had hit her like a ton of bricks and there was no hiding from it anymore. No endless pit that would suddenly appear beneath her bed and swallow her whole, putting her out of her misery. Lying in her bed, she'd given up on trying to sleep all together. It was no use. Her mind would be plagued with visions of him either way. Him.

She sighed again, and sat up, admitting defeat in the fight she was having with her bed sheets. Dropping her face into her hands, she rubbed at her temples with ungloved fingertips. She wondered why she had only realized this just now. Hell, who was she kidding? She'd always known, she just never owned up to it. Rejection wasn't good to a twenty year old girl's psyche.

She loved him. She knew that. He knew that. But when it had firmly and distinctively crossed over into more than the 'I love you as a person' arena, she wasn't sure. She was in love with him. 'How the hell did that happen?' she thought. But how could it not? They were always together. Joking, squabbling, and then joking again. He understood her, and she him. Both sides, the man and the animal.

~Someone's gotta take the lead tonight, who's it gonna be?~

She had to do something about it now. Even if rejected, she needed it off her chest. She needed it out of her head to make her stop desperately wondering. It was killing her. Taking a shaky deep breath, she leapt from the bed and burst through her bedroom door, hoping she wouldn't give herself time to lose her nerve. Leaving her door wide open, she sprinted on her tip toes down the corridor and abruptly stopped at a door across the hall. 'Damn,' she thought, chiding herself for her hesitation. She turned her head a moment, attempting to eye her door from where she stood.

"Marie?" a gruff voice called out from behind the door. She shut her eyes and exhaled slowly as the brief thought of retreating retreated from her. She couldn't chicken out now. "It's open, Kid," the voice continued. Her hand moved faster than her brain, and that was a good thing. She turned the knob, quietly stepped inside, and shut the door behind her. He had to break the silence once again when he noticed she didn't immediately turn around, and was still facing the door.

"What's wrong?" he asked, still lying in bed and clicking on the lamp sitting atop the nightstand. She gradually turned from the door to face him. There he was, the Wolverine. She then marveled at how she couldn't have fallen in love with this man. His hair frazzled, yet still very close to how he wore it normally anyway. His chest bare from clothing but not hair, and chiseled like he'd been made from stone. Her eyes drifted back upwards where they met his. Hazel, piercing, mysterious, and beautiful. He cocked a signature eyebrow at her which immediately made her grin and look down, catching a glimpse of herself and her attire… Or lack thereof.

She rapidly became self conscious as she gazed down at only a silk, cream-colored nightgown falling just below her knees. The spaghetti straps and deep V-cut of the fabric exposing her chest almost matched her skin. Her cursed, poisonous, apocalyptic skin. Her memory instantly struck her in the face when her eyes followed a trail to gloveless hands. 'Fuck!' she swore at herself. In her mad dash to be bold, she'd forgotten them in her room.

~I'm gonna sit right here and tell you while it comes to me.~

"Marie," he interjected roughly, catching her attention. He swung his legs off the side of his bed and flipped back the sheet revealing plaid, flannel pajama pants she'd gotten him as a 'just because' gift since even he didn't know when his birthday was. "I said, what's wrong, Kid?" he repeated. She eyed him in response, and then neatly tucked herself into the brown leather chair opposite him. With one leg folded under her, the other draped down in front of the chair. Her nightgown rode up her thigh a bit as she swung her leg back and forth, her toes barely skimming the floor, and she idly twirled a wavy lock of white hair around her finger.

"Logan," she began, not looking at him. She paused trying to think of the right way to go about this. She wanted to make sure her words did her heart justice, and hoped that her brain didn't get too much in the way. She finally lifted her head to look at him. He was perched on the side of his bed, eyes narrowed, obviously awaiting a response. Any response. "I… I needed to talk to you."

"That's obvious by you bein' here," he replied crossing his arms over his chest. "So what's the problem?" he quizzed a little annoyed. She couldn't blame him. She was taking too damned long. He spotted the regretful, apologetic face she wore, even if it was just for an instant. Knowing something had to be seriously eating at her if she'd come to his room this late to talk, he softened a bit. "I'm all ears, Kid," he said softly, dropping his hands into his lap and leaning forward.

"I think you know, Logan," she almost whispered, now fiddling with her fingers instead of her hair. She stubbornly looked into her lap instead of his face. She couldn't watch his expression as this whole thing unfolded. It was way too much, but she couldn't stop now.

~If you have something to say, you should say it right now.~

"Know what?" he asked more blankly than she had hoped.

"Come on, Logan," she said with a hint of irritation before shutting her eyes. "You have to… I know you do," she replied fighting the tears threatening to come through in her voice.

"No… What do I know, Marie?" He was really pissing her off. She thrust both her feet to the ground and shoved her body around in the chair to face him squarely. Looking him straight in the eyes this time, she took in his surprised and somewhat perplexed face. She couldn't recall seeing this one on him before.

"Your body may be, but your head can't possibly be that dense, Logan!" she shouted angrily. He was taken aback, literally. He physically leaned back, straightening his position and surprised himself when both his brows shot skyward. He'd have been a bit amused if he didn't feel slightly insulted. He said nothing as she stared at him expectantly for a moment. She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Why are you makin' this so hard? Just say it!" she demanded.

"Say what?" he couldn't help but bark back. She couldn't expect him to just sit there and be yelled at all night. She shut her eyes again and balled her hands into fists. She slowly shook her head and fumed, trying not to grind her teeth while she took deep breaths through her nose. Her heart began to pound and the unfamiliar feeling of rage began to boil within her. "Spit it out, Marie!" he snapped standing up. He had never seen this side of her before. Marie was never furious about anything. He'd felt it enough before to be able to recognize it, and that's exactly what this looked like to him. Fury.

"What you know is true," she started. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she opened her eyes. She held his gaze for a moment and watched as his anger and frustration subsided with her own. "Do you honestly have no idea what I'm tryin' to say?" she asked sadly.

"Marie…" he began, taking a step toward her.

~You give me a feeling that I never felt before. And I deserve it, I know I deserve it.~

She shut her eyes in defense to his approach. She didn't want him to comfort her now. She needed to get this out before she was consumed by it. She couldn't let all that's been said this night be in vain. She softly shook her head, then hung it towards her chest, and bit her bottom lip before continuing.

"The truth about us..." He froze midstride. Unable to press forward, not wanting to invade her space while she didn't want him there, and not wanting to move backward away from her, he decided to stay put. She glanced at him, then back at her lap. He knelt from where he stood and sat down Indian-style on the floor facing her. She lifted her legs from the floor, capturing her knees in an embrace and brought her feet onto the chair with her. She peeked at him over her knees before bringing her legs down to sit in Indian-style as well. "Well… Me," she breathed. "Us… my feelings about us…"

He nodded in understanding, but didn't say a word or take his eyes from her.

"You're never afraid of me, Logan," she started again, her hands in her lap. "I've almost killed you twice, and you never hesitate to…" She was searching for the right words. He sat patiently and waited for her to find them. "You always mess with my hair," she smiled. "Or brush it from my face… You touch my cheeks and kiss my forehead…" She paused, trying to will her face not to redden. He noticed. "Even if it's just to tug me somewhere, you hold my hand or my arm… without even thinkin' about it. And you got gloves... so I don't have to wear them all the damned time. No one else has thought of that." She peered down at him and found the small crack of a smile forming at the corners of his lips. She had to try very hard to not crack one of her own. "I've never had that. People meet me and think I'm nice enough, but when my skin show's its face, they head for the hills," she said looking down again, then at him. Still, he said nothing. 'God, what more does he want?' she thought. 'How much more spellin' out does the man need?'

"Fine," she let out exasperatedly and rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath. "You make me feel special, okay? Like somehow… even my power, my mutation… is special. You make me feel like it's a gift, and not a curse... Even when most times… I feel the opposite." She took another deep breath and closed her eyes with it this time. She couldn't bear to look at him when she said this part. She dropped her head a little and allowed her long, wavy, mostly chestnut brown hair to fall frontward and blanket her shoulders and some of her face. "It's why I love you, Logan… It's why despite you callin' me 'Kid,' I'm in love with you."

~It's becoming something that's impossible to ignore. And I can't take it.~

She ached so badly to look up at his face. She wanted to search his eyes for an indication, any at all, that he may share her feelings. But she refused to pry her eyes from her lap. The mere thought of rejection after all of this embarrassment was paralyzing. If nothing else, the relief she felt from her confession was still palpable. Even so, right now all she wanted to do was bolt. Too bad that couldn't be done with him on the floor and in her way.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," she muttered, finally penetrating the silence. "I just couldn't hold it in anymore… It was drivin' me crazy," she said flatly. "You have no idea how hard it is to be around you," she added in a whisper.

~I was wondering maybe, could I make you my baby?~

More silence. She'd done the unthinkable. The Wolverine, who never failed to have a sarcastic comeback, was shocked beyond words. She would have thought he weren't even there had it not been for the sound of him swallowing hard in response to her statement. She instantly almost regretted ever coming to his room. Almost. Fed up with him and herself, she pushed her eyes open and gradually lifted her head to peek at him. She eyed his form curiously, seeing he had his head down, suddenly very interested in something on the floor. She'd had enough. She'd finally gotten it all out, and now it was time to end it.

"Look, I know that you don't love me. Not like that. It's just… We get along… We understand each other, more than anyone else, I think… I'm not afraid of the Wolverine, and you're not afraid of my skin…" She felt completely defeated and loathed how desperate she sounded. "Would you say somethin' please?" she pleaded, glowering at him. He raised his head and eyed her nervously. Another face she'd never seen before, a nervous Logan.

"Marie…" he exhaled shakily. She turned away from him defiantly, fighting back tears. Now she regretted it. She would have bitterly lived with all of her unrequited feelings to never have to face this moment. Scratch that. She would have jumped for joy for all eternity to not have to face this moment. She tilted her head back, aiming her face toward the ceiling in hopes of keeping her tears at bay, but one fell anyway. With the pathetic deed done, she had nothing left to say. She was mortified and wanted only to speed to her room where she could throw a pity party for one. Unfolding her legs, she gingerly placed her feet onto the floor in front of him. Eyes closed, she took a steadying breath. When they snapped open, she sprang up from the chair bounding for the door.

"Marie, wait. Please…"

~If we do the unthinkable, will it make us look crazy?~

He'd caught her around the waist one-handed, his fingers gripping her side through the silk nightgown. His strong arm held her tightly almost scooping her off the ground. She should've known she didn't stand a chance of escaping. She didn't struggle against him, just tried her best to hide her face in her hands. Gently, he turned her to face him. His hands lingered at her waist and he took a step closer to her.

"Marie," he said softly, stroking her sides. "Look at me." She shook her head in response refusing to pry her hands away from her face. He decided to get her attention the only other way he knew how. He slid his hands from her waist and reached up to wrap his palms around her wrists. Taking hold of them, he tenderly tugged her hands down from her puzzled face. That did the trick.

"What are you doin'?" she asked, snatching away from his grasp, her grief being replaced by annoyance. He fingered a lock of white hair near her eye, and tucked it behind her ear. He traced his finger along the outer edge down to her earlobe. She involuntarily closed her eyes at the contact. He'd done that a hundred times before, but now felt… different.

"I wouldn't be good for you, Marie," he stated, unsure of where to put his hands now. He opted for resting them at his sides. Her eyes shot open and a slight frown formed on her lips. Catching it, he quickly looked away from her. "You think I've never thought about it," he said before swallowing hard, then pausing. "I have." Now she was speechless.

~If you ask me, I'm ready... If you ask me, I'm ready.~

The words burned into her mind as if they'd been branded. Her heart soared and filled with optimism. That feeling, however, stopped just short of showing on her face. She didn't know what to say or how to react. She pulled her gaze away from him, fearing that her staring would make him stop talking. She'd done enough of that for the night, and was happy he finally acknowledged it was his turn. She wanted to touch him, lightly, to urge him to go on. He wasn't wearing a shirt and she didn't want to start to drain him, but what choice did she have now?

Looking down between them, she carefully lifted her hand and grazed the top of his chest with her fingertips. She could feel his heartbeat quicken beneath them as he persisted to look away from her. She watched as he closed his eyes and took deep, labored breaths. She was amazed. She snapped back to reality when she began to feel an unwanted 'pulling' sensation. She was about to remove her fingers when his stronger hand emerged over hers and held it in place, over his heart. He opened his eyes and spun his head to stare back into hers. She was scared and confused. 'What the hell are you doing?' she asked him with her eyes, but not opening her mouth. Then it hit her. Almost too fast, it flooded her mind with urgency. He let go.

"Now you know," he said holding her gaze a moment, before taking his eyes from her. A few minutes of silence filled the room before he took a couple steps back to find the bed. He promptly sat down and slumped his shoulders, shaking his head as he stared at the floor. She was glued to the spot where she stood. Dumbfounded, she tried to process all that was racing through her head. His thoughts and feelings all came alive within her, but she didn't want it this way.

"Tell me," she quietly ordered. He said nothing. "Logan…" she called in a louder voice. He sighed then peered up at her. When she put her hands on her hips and gave him an 'I'm waiting' look, he cocked his brow at her, obviously not wanting to verbally divulge anything. She stood her ground and folded her arms across her chest. She wasn't letting him get out of this one.

"Dammit, Marie, what more do you want?" he retorted. She narrowed her eyes at him. He hated when she was mad, especially if it was at him. Anyone else, he could deal with, brush off, forget. But not her. A minute passed, and still, she waited. He challenged her, still keeping quiet.

"I want you to say it," she explained, her voice soft, dropping her arms from her chest. She took a step closer to him, and he dropped his brow. "I know you put it in my head… just… Make it make sense for me." She took another step forward, and stared into his eyes. "Make me understand." He was utterly captivated. Her deep brown, soulful eyes had a choke-hold on him that he couldn't break free of. He was lost in them, feeling as though time had stood still. So, he did the only thing he could. He surrendered.