DISCLAIMER: The X-People proper all belong to Marvel Comics. Sikudhani, Cierra, and Paula are the brainchildren of Darqstar. Joey Babcock is mine.

It was a beautiful June day. The sun had finally seen fit to come out after three weeks of rain. Aunt Ororo, when Siku had asked her to stop the rain, had said, "Sometimes, little one, we must each endure an inconvenience, for the way things are is often the way things should be...even when we do not wish them so."

Siku had had to admit her aunt had a point. The rain had made the front lawn a thick, lush carpet of rich, healthy green. The flowerbeds flanking the front stoop were ablaze with color as the azaleas and the flowering impatiens all flourished, turning their bright faces of pink, red, orange, yellow and white into the afternoon sun.

Uncle Bobby trudged up the walkway from the mailbox, looking wilted and limp. Poor Uncle Bobby, Siku thought sympathetically. Being ice, summer's probably no fun for him at all. Siku smiled a bright, joyous smile at him, nonetheless, when he was close enough. "Hi, Uncle Bobby! Isn't it a great day?"

Uncle Bobby looked up and nodded, unable to hold on to his gloomy mood for long with Siku beaming at him. "Hiya, Siku," he greeted her. "You catchin' some rays? Workin' on your tan?"

Siku giggled; it was not likely that the sun would turn Siku any other color besides her native blue, and they both knew it. "No, Silly. I'm waiting for Cierra. Today is the last day of school, and after her 4H club meeting, she and her mom are picking me up for a sleepover!" She reached over and patted the parcels beside her on the stoop.

Her overnight bag was a sturdy, plastic-reinforced canvas number with the logo for Newton's Apple on the front, and a smaller one for PBS beneath it. Bobby made a show of asking, "May I have milady's permission to make sure she forgot nothing before she mounts her steel steed and goes on her quest?"

Siku laughed again and nodded, "Okay. I think I didn't forget anything." She counted off on her fingers: "Toothbrush, toothpaste, washcloth, soap." She nodded to herself, approvingly, proud she had remembered all that without prompting. "My nightgown, my slippers, my robe...." She poked her nose into the bag as Bobby watched. "My sticker book, my diary..." she gave Bobby a pretend-stern look, as if suspecting him of snooping in her diary. "And my Cookie Monster."

The Muppet was threadbare in places, ancient and just the slightest bit ratty. But he was lovingly well cared for. There were occasional stitches of blue thread that didn't quite match, signs of where the poor old stuffed toy had begun to leak stuffing, and had been rushed to "stuffed toy surgery," performed by Dr. Rogue and her faithful Nurse Sikudhani.

Bobby couldn't help but smile: the Cookie Monster doll had been a gift from Siku's earliest days in the mansion. She had decided early on that the toy reminded her of her father, Hank, and from that point on, it was her favourite toy. She had dozens of other playthings as well -- the X-Men tended to spoil her when they could get away with it -- but Cookie had remained first and foremost in her affections. Her husband may have to share their wedding bed with that doll, Bobby thought, and hid a grin, lest he have to explain that thought to his nine year old niece.

The bag also had healthy snacks in it: there were some rice cakes and a little bag of trail mix, as well as a box of raisins. Bobby nodded his approval. "You packed it all by yourself?"

Siku nodded proudly, smiling.

This wasn't the first time Sikudhani had had a sleepover with a friend, but Bobby always felt a little protective of Hank's daughter. No less than anyone else in the house, he told himself. "Well done," he complimented her.

The cheerful toot of a car's horn stopped the conversation cold. Siku was on her feet in an instant, hand moving quickly to sweep up her tote bag onto one shoulder. In a flurry of motion, she was down the steps, and running full tilt toward the car. Bobby recognized the car as the one which belonged to Cierra's mother, so he called no warning after her, but instead merely waved to Cierra and her mother.

Screeching with girlish glee, Cierra and Siku embraced, momentarily becoming a whirl of blue and red hair over matching white T-shirts, each with an embroidered Tigger over the heart, and a matching pair of yellow shorts.

Mrs. Miles smiled at Bobby from the window of her car. "Boy, didn't waste a second, did they?"

Bobby chuckled. "You want to come in for a glass of ice cold lemonade, Mrs. Miles?" he asked, gesturing toward the house. "I'm sure these two can amuse themselves for a bit."

"Thank you, but we really should get back to the house. The girls are helping me cook dinner tonight." Mrs. Miles smiled over at the two girls who were excitedly chattering about their plans for the whole glorious summer. "Okay, you two. Pile in. Seat belts."

"Yes, ma'am," Cierra said with a smile, and opened the back door so she and Sikudhani could sit beside each other and continue their conversation. They waved to Bobby as the car turned to head back down the drive.

"Don't forget to call your father before bed!" Bobby shouted into his cupped hands. Siku nodded her understanding, and waved again before Cierra's mother drove the car out of sight.

It was a short drive to Cierra's house. Mrs. Miles went into the kitchen to arrange the preparations that would be needed for their dinner. "Oh, my goodness," she said with an affected tone of perturbed surprise. "I completely forgot about dessert." She wrinkled her nose and turned to her daughter. "What shall we do? What shall we do?"

Siku watched, delighted and amused. Mother and daughter seemed to consider this "What shall we do?" thing an old comedy routine. Cierra put her chin into her hands and frowned. "We must think very hard," she replied, then grinned. "I know! We can make Oatmeal cookies. Those we can make sweet with juice, instead of sugar." She nodded, pleased with herself, that she had remembered a recipe that didn't need sugar, for Siku's sake.

"Very good," Paula said with a nod. "I will put the water on for the spaghetti while you two run down to the market on the corner and pick up the flour, the apple juice, and the oatmeal, plus a tomato and a cucumber for the salad." Paula considered, "And maybe some frozen yogurt to make Oatmeal cookie sandwiches, huh?"

Cierra's eyes widened. "Really? You're letting us go to the store by ourselves?"

"You're both nine," Paula answered. "If we were living in the South Bronx, I would probably not let you go to the store without armed escort. But, I believe Salem Center is much safer than that. Besides, everyone on the street knows and likes you both, and Mr. Hooper at the market does too. So I believe I can trust you both with this -- if you'd like."

"Would we?!" Cierra crowed, hugging Siku. "We would, right?"

Siku grinned. "Yes! Thank you, Paula. This will be fun." Daddy gave me a little bit of spending money for the trip. Maybe I can buy Paula a card or some flowers to say thank you for inviting me and trusting us to go out. She hopped off the kitchen chair. Last time Sikudhani had been here, Paula had been stripping a dingy old pink paint job off this chair. "Is this the same chair?" she asked, regarding the chair thoughtfully. "It must be, but you made it look so much different. Better!"

"Why, thank you, dear," Paula said. "Now you two get a move on. It's early, and I don't want you two in there when the after-work rush begins." She handed the girls two ten dollar bills, then kissed each on the forehead. "If you want, you may call me to let me know when you get to the store, and when you get back." This comment was followed by two quarters. "And you may share the change."

The two girls marched down the stairs from the Miles' apartment and out of the converted carriage house. "This is great!" Cierra grinned. "She's treating us like we're growing up!"

"We are growing up," Siku replied with an affectedly-smug smile. "We're practically women, you know." She imitated the 'runway walk' most supermodels did on TV, but only lasted three steps before doubling over in peals of laughter.

Together, the best friends skipped down the street to the small "roadside fruit stand" and went inside.

"Okay, let's do this ...." Cierra searched for the word, "Efficiently!"

Siku grinned, remembering the time she had 'worded' Cierra with that very word a year or so earlier. Siku tended to have the bigger vocabulary; her father's influence, of course. "Okay. I'll get the vegetables and the frozen yogurt, and you get the rest of the cookie stuff?"

Cierra nodded. "And we meet by the express line in ten minutes, no matter what, right?" They looked up together. There was a huge, white analog clock over the courtesy booth -- it was positioned so that it could be seen from anywhere inside the little store. "Winner gets to pick what we spend the change on."

"A race?" Siku grinned. "You're on!"

"Ready," Cierra grinned, getting into a racing crouch. "Set? Go!"

The two girls had the sense to not actually run in the store, but they walked off at a good clip for a pair of nine year olds, making for opposite ends of the store. One or two of the adults chuckled good-naturedly at the high spirits of two little girls ready to face the summer.

Ten minutes later, Siku had everything except the frozen yogurt. "I can't choose a flavor!" she protested to Cierra. "I know what you like, Cierra, but I'm not sure what your mom likes."

Cierra, holding a basket with the other items on the list, nodded sagely. "We can just get vanilla, then. We all like that." Back to the aisle they went, to get a pint of frozen yogurt.

On their way back, they went down the sundries aisle, looking for an interesting magazine or book they could buy with the change. They were so busy perusing the shelves, that they didn't see anyone coming until it was too late, and they went down in a collision of arms, legs, and groceries.

"Eep!" cried Siku, ending up with the cold container in her lap. Fortunately, it hadn't opened. "Hey!" she snapped, a second later, indignant. "Watch where you're -- " but her words stopped in her throat as she laid eyes on a familiar figure she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Joey Babcock!"

"You know this kid?" Cierra asked dubiously. He was a boy, and while Cierra had mostly given up on her belief that boys were icky creatures one step above slimy worms, she still treated them as though they were stupid and dangerous once in a while. This particular boy had just knocked them over, so Cierra was treading carefully.

"Oh, yes," Siku said, laughing. "We used to hate each other when we were real little, but we got to be friends." She stood and dusted off the seat of her jeans. "I thought you moved away," she said to the freckle-faced, brown- haired boy.

"We're only here for the summer, visiting my grandma," Joey said glumly. "Before it's back to the city, then ..." he sighed, "gone forever."

Joey looked so sad that Cierra's wary expression faded for one of sympathy. "You make it sound like you're gonna die."

"Next best thing," Joey murmured, blinking back tears. "My folks got a divorce right before Christmas last year, and now my dad's gonna marry Sammy the snake, and she wants to send me to military school!" He turned and regarded Siku with sudden hope in his eyes. "I know you were born a mutant, and your dad's a doctor, right? Not everybody's mutant thing shows up when they're born like yours, right, Siku? Sometimes it shows up later on? Right?"

"Right," Siku said quietly, although she was pleased to hear that Joey hadn't fallen back into the anti-mutant stance he'd been in when had first met him, six years ago. "Why?"

"Do you think maybe I'm one of those kinds of mutants? Maybe I am, right?" The look in Joey's eyes was desperate.

Cierra glanced up at the time. "We better go, Siku. Mom will worry if we're not back." She pulled Siku by the wrist, toward the cash registers.

Siku went along agreeably enough, not wanting to worry Mrs. Miles. Joey, however, tagged along with them. "I want to stay with you and your Dad. If I have to leave here at the end of the summer..." he trailed off.

Siku glanced to Cierra. "I know it's really short notice, Cierra. But do you think your mom would mind if we invited Joey to dinner too?"

Cierra wrinkled her nose. She wants to invite him to dinner on the first night of our first summer sleepover? Then she sighed. "If it's okay with my mom, it's okay with me," she conceded finally. He does look very sad. He could use a friend, and Siku's the best friend anybody could want. But she's mine, Cierra thought with a fierce burst of possessiveness.

Together the three kids walked back the short distance to the Miles family's apartment. Paula was surprised to see a boy with the two girls. "If that's what you two spent the change on, I shall have to check the prices of Mr. Hooper's other stock!" Her smile was gentle, though her eyes held a query.

"This is Joey Babcock," Siku introduced. "He and I used to go to school together when we were little, and he's back for the summer visiting his grandmother."

Once that explanation was given, Paula agreed to allow Joey to stay for dinner, on condition that Joey called his grandmother and got permission. This, of course, took all of one phone call before Joey had the ok to stay.

Over dinner, careful questions from Paula and Sikudhani revealed the reason for Joey's melancholy and his near-desperate insistance that he could be a mutant and maybe be adopted by Dr. Hank McCoy. Joey's parents had had a bitter divorce last year, right before the holidays. His mother had lost the custody suit because she hadn't been able to find work, so Joey had ended up with his father -- and his father's new lady friend Samantha. Or, as Joey called her, "Sammy the snake."

It was clear to Paula that the future Mrs. Babcock did not especially like her future stepson any more than Joey liked her. Joey's tale had ended with a pale-faced, dread-filled whisper of being sent off to military school.

I suppose we could paint him blue too, Siku considered, then discarded the idea at once. Daddy would know it was fake, and he would be mad at us for trying to fool him. She looked to Paula, hopefully.

"I am sure that it won't be as bad as all that," Paula said, putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher and presenting each child with two cookies and a scoop of vanilla frozen yogurt. "Enjoy the summer," she suggested. "Things will look clearer in time." With that, Paula set the dishwasher to running and went into the other room to work on sanding an antique lazy susan she'd acquired at a tag sale for all of ten dollars. It was covered with scratches and cigarette burns.

"I'm not waiting until the end of the summer," Joey said seriously, through a mouthful of cookie. "I'm running away from home."

Both girls gasped. By their faces, running away from home was unthinkable. But then, Siku and Cierra were both happy with their homes. The two girls exchanged a look.

"You're really unhappy there, huh?" Siku asked solemnly, putting her bowl in the sink. "Then we'll have to do something. Cierra, we're going back to my place to talk to my Dad. Tell your mom?" I can't put my finger on it, but Joey's too sad for 'he just needs a friend.' I think he needs a grownup.

Cierra blinked. "But what about our sleepover?" she protested.

"We can still do it, but this is important," Siku responded. Don't ask me how come it is. I just feel it is.

"Did you forget something?" Paula asked Siku when Cierra informed her that Siku wanted to go home.

"Not exactly, Paula," Siku replied with solemn eyes. "But I think Joey really needs to talk to my Daddy."

That was enough for Paula, and she offered the three children a ride after calling ahead to make certain Hank knew they were coming.

"Yo, Hank."

Hank McCoy looked up from his copy of Anna Karenina as Logan spoke. "Yes?"

"Siku's back."

Hank frowned. "Is she all right? Chicken pox? Earache?" He dropped the book from the foot he'd been holding it in and bounded over to Logan.

"Nothin' like that, Hank. She brought a friend with her and says he needs to talk to you."

Hank nodded. "All right." Siku was a sensible child. If she thought a friend needed to speak with Hank, it was likely that the child had some problem Siku thought too large to be solved at the level of a nine year old, even if she was an exceptional one.

Hank's heart went out to the sad-eyed little boy Siku introduced as Joey Babcock. Hank had to think a moment before he remembered that this was the boy who had insisted on calling Siku a mutie when they were four. The capacity to forgive in children is one adults ought strive to emulate, he thought with a proud smile. Then, he regarded the boy carefully. "Logan...would you ask Jean or Betsy to come in here with some tea and crackers for our guests?"

"Tea and crackers," Hank repeated, more urgently, when Logan started to question the request. But five minutes later, Jean came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of tea and crackers.

"He was gonna run away," Siku whispered while Cierra gave a dissertation on "How Cool Siku's House Is" to Joey. "He's really scared."

[Hank, I think ... you had better call the boy's father.] Jean glanced from the boy to Hank, expression darkening.

Hank's eyes widened as he continued his silent conversation with Jean, unnoticed by Paula or the others. Then, he asked Paula if she would mind bringing the children back to her place. He promised her he would be along directly.

"What is it?" Paula asked. "The little boy said something to you, didn't he? Something I missed?"

"We will have to have the authorities look into it," Hank whispered grimly, "But from what I can determine, his future-stepmother ....hits him."

Paula's eyes widened with horror, then sympathy as she glanced at the boy nibbling crackers by himself. She went to her daughter's side and hugged her gently.

Hank scooped Sikudhani up into his arms and hugged her until she protested. "Daddy, I can't breathe!"

Hank murmured an apology. "Sorry, Sunshine. I just found myself reminded again how very, very precious you are, and how proud I am of you."

"I was right to bring Joey to you, huh?" she asked, her smile a bit less bright than usual in light of her father's concern.

"Yes, Sunshine, you certainly were."

Hank put his daughter down, and she went over to Joey. One little blue hand on his shoulder, Siku said, very seriously, "Do not worry about anything. Everything will be all right."

Joey smiled and politely thanked Hank for talking to him, and Jean for the tea and crackers. Then, turning, he hugged Siku tight. "You are the best friend I ever had!"

Cierra was about to squawk an indignant protest, but she saw the look on the boy's face, and decided not to. I guess I can share her with him for a little while, she decided. It's only for the summer, after all.

That night, Paula Miles made arrangements with Joey's father that Joey could spend the night and go with Cierra and Siku to Rye Playland the next day, if that was all right.

Siku, keeping her promise, brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, her slippers, and her robe, then dialed her number at home to bid her father good night.

The conversation was brief, and ended with Hank asking of his daughter, "Siku, what made you think to bring Joey to me?"

Siku answered, "That's easy, Daddy. He had that look -- the one I used to get when people were mean to me because I'm a mutant. That look means very, very unhappy. And when a kid is that unhappy, they need a grown-up to talk to. And you're my favorite grown-up, Daddy. It just seemed like the right thing to do."

Hank couldn't argue with that. It had been. His daughter, in her small, intuitive way, was as much a hero as any of his costumed adventuring friends.