She pounded and evaded the deadly robots. Usually she would take out all of her frustrations from the long, hard day in here. She would sneak into the Danger Room and set it on the program that she'd made for herself. She would let out all the feelings from the day. The feelings that she was not allowed to show. The feelings that she kept hidden from her teammates and, until this time every night, from herself.
Today was different.
Today she was specifically taking her frustrations of him out in this session.
She felt it whenever he was near. She knew when he came down at night to watch over her in the Danger Room.
She didn't stop, not for him.
She wouldn't dare let anyone else see this side of her, this dark side that she kept hidden from the world. This oppressed part of her very soul that was only allowed out when there was no on to see its aggressive and blood thirsty needs. Only he saw this side of her.
In the morning when she came down for breakfast they didn't act like anything was different. They pretended she was still the same person that she had always been. They pretended that he wasn't watching over her as though he were her guardian angel. And everything was right with the world.
She knew he would never betray her trust and tell someone about her secret Danger Room excursions. He knew that he couldn't stop her from wanting to kill everything in sight on a nightly basis. And that was how it worked, until today.
Today, he had approached her in the kitchen. He had started out pretending like usual, but something changed. He'd touched her. Not improperly, just putting her hair behind her ear while she rambled. It had been normal. It was something that had happened before. Her long bangs would block their eye contact and he would move them out of the way.
It was all completely normal. It changed everything. She knew it had. She knew the way his fingers slowed halfway through the motion. She knew when his hand slowly moved to her face. She knew in the barest whisper of his finger tips as he skimmed the curve of her jaw. She knew everything had changed. She knew, too, that nothing had changed, when he backed off startled at his actions and left without a word.
That touch, that innocent touch, had changed everything for her. She'd gotten all she'd ever wanted from him in that touch. It meant that he saw her. He saw into her. When he took it away she felt as though she would cry. But she wouldn't, she couldn't, let her emotions show. She was the happy-go-lucky girl; she never got sad and she never got angry.
She felt that pull in her heart again, he was watching. She fought harder; she became deadlier with the knowledge that he was watching her. The gruff loner in the command room would never be hers. So she fought, like she always does, to try and forget the times that day, that week, that month when she could have told him how deep her feelings were for the man who was so much her companion and so much her angel, but even more the man she's been falling in love with. She knew that to him she'd always be a child. She knew that except for the rare moments like today, she'd always be the Wolverine's Half-Pint. And that would never change.