3:26 p.m. Like practically every other weekday, the door to the X-mansion opened and six-year-old Sikudhani McCoy ran inside. Like every other weekday, she pealed off her back-pack and jacket. Like practically every other week-day her father, Dr. Henry McCoy came to greet her. "Hello, Sunshine, how was school?"

Unlike every other weekday, she didn't smile and run to hug him. On this day, she turned away. "I hate school!" she cried out, her voice filled with tears. "I'm never going back there again!"

"What ha-" Hank began, and stopped. She'd run up the stairs as fast as she could, abandoning her jacket and book bag on the landing. What in the world could have happened? He wondered.

Hank worried a great deal about his unusual daughter and her exposure to other children in public school. He'd been very reluctant to even send her, knowing how callous children could be. He'd very seriously considered teaching her at home, but in the end, decided his daughter had the right to socially interact with others her own age. Sikudhani, for all her differences, was a very confident, outgoing child. Up until today, she seemed to be handling the school system with ease.

Well, standing down at the bottom of the stairs and pondering this situation won't tell me what is wrong. I'd better go up and talk to her.

The door to Siku's room was shut. Hank knocked cautiously. "Siku? Sikudhani, are you all right?" He pressed his ear to the door, hearing her sobbing.

"Go away!" Siku shouted.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sunshine," Hank said softly. "You're obviously very unhappy and I want to help." He tried the knob and found it locked. "Couldn't you open the door so we can talk?"

"I don't wanna talk!" Siku sobbed. "I just wanna be left alone!"

"I'd really like to know what is bothering you," Hank asked. "Can't you tell me?"

"No!" Siku roared.

Hank leaned his head against the door, wondering what he was suppose to do now. Every day another challenge, he thought. Well, no one said that being a father would be easy. But why is it that something must always come along to make it more difficult? This is the first time Sikudhani has had a problem and not wanted to tell me.

"Havin' a little problem Hank?"

Hank turned to see Remy coming up the stairs. "Something's bothering Siku and I can't seem to get her to open the door and talk to me about it."

Gambit's eyes narrowed. "If anyone hurt her..."

Hank sighed. "Remy, until she tells me, I don't know what happened, so getting mad about it isn't going to help."

Remy walked over to the door. "Mebe she don' wan' t'talk to her Daddy 'bout this. Let me try."

"Please, feel free." Hank motioned to the door, stepping aside to give him access.

Gambit tapped on the door. "Siku? Petite cherie, it' your favorite uncle. Your Daddy tells me som'tin is botherin' you. Mebe you'd like t'talk t'me about it? It can't be that bad. Can I come in?"

"Go away!" Came the muffled response.

He looked at Hank and frowned. "Dat wasn't suppose't happen."

"I didn't think that was part of your game plan," Hank retorted dryly. "Any other ideas?"

"Hi guys, what's up?" Bobby called out, as he walked out of his room and went to join them.

Remy filled him in. "Som'tin upsettin' Siku, an' she won' open tell us what it is."

"She came home from school upset, threatening never to return again," Hank elaborated.

"If anyone's hurt her..." Bobby began.

"I don't have any idea what happened!" Hank interrupted. "Because she won't tell me."

"Won' tell me either." Remy sighed.

"Let me try," Bobby offered. "She and I are very close, no offense, Hank, but sometimes it's hard to talk to a parent about things."

"No offense taken," Hank said. "And you're welcome to try.

Bobby tapped on the door gently. "Rugrat? It's me, your Uncle Bobby." His voice oozed with sympathy. "Your dad tells me you've had a rough day. How about you and I talk about it, okay?"

No response.

Well, at least she isn't hollering, " no," Hank thought, nodding to Bobby to encourage him to continue. Maybe he can get through.

"Aw, c'mon Siku, it can't be that bad," Bobby continued. "Tell you what, why don't you come out here and if your father says yes, we can go downstairs and have a little ice cream and talk about it?"

Although Hank tried to keep Siku away from too much sugar, he was willing to compromise in this situation. "All right," he whispered to Bobby. "She can have ice cream, but only half a cup."

"Leave me alone!" Siku cried out.

"Hmm... that didn't go well," Bobby said, scratching his head. "Wow, something is really getting to her."

As the three men stood in the hallway, pondering what to do next, Logan came up the stairs. "Gumbo, Scott's looking for you he-" He stopped abruptly and looked at his teammates. "Why are you all gathered 'round Siku's door?"

"Sometin's wrong wit' Siku," Gambit explained.

"Oh?" Logan's nostrils flared, a dangerous glint coming to his eyes. "If anyone's hurt her-"

"She doesn't seem to be physically injured," Hank interrupted, before the familiar 'SNIKT' of Logan's claws could be heard. "Something happened at school I believe, but she won't open the door to discuss it with me."

"That doesn't sound like her," Logan said, coming over to the door. Without waiting for permission, he rapped on it sharply. "Siku? It's Logan," His voice was calm and controlled, but not without warmth. "Open the door little darlin'. We're all worried about you."

"I'm fine!" came the response. "Can't anyone leave me alone?"

"I might have predicted that response," Hank murmured.

Logan wasn't going to give up though. "C'mon darlin' whatever it is, it can't be that bad," he said, not realizing that everyone before him had said pretty much the same thing. "So, why don't you save us all the trouble an' just come out an' tell us."

"Bite Me!" Siku hollered.

Hank frowned. "Now, who taught her that type of language?" he asked, looking at the three men. Bobby looked up toward the ceiling, whistling innocently. "Robert!"

"Aw you know how it is with kids," Bobby quickly said, shrugging. "They pick up all sorts of expressions at school."

"Uh huh," Hank muttered darkly.

"There you are," Scott interrupted, coming up the stairs. "Logan I thought you went to get Rem-" He stopped abruptly when he saw where his teammates were gathered, his expression changing from annoyed to worried. "Is something wrong with Siku?"

"We don' really know," Gambit began. "Accordin' t' Hank she came home from school upset..."

"Did someone hurt her?" Scott asked. "Because if they have-"

Before Scott could finish his threat, Jean came up. "What is going on here?" she asked.

"Siku-" Scott began.

"-is upset'" Gambit interrupted.

"And she won't tell us what it is-" Bobby interjected.

"-that's botherin' her," Logan finished abruptly.

If Jean starts saying, "if anyone has hurt her," I'm going to scream, Hank thought.

Jean didn't say it though, instead she nodded sympathetically. "I remember many times when I was her age, coming home from school upset about something." She looked at Hank. "Would you mind if I tried to talk to her?"

Hank shook his head. "Not at all, Jean, be my guest."

She walked up to the door. "Siku?"

"If you're here to get me to talk about what's bothering me, forget it!" the child cried out. "I don't want to talk about it!"

"Neither do I," Jean said.

The five men looked at each other puzzled. What approach is this?

"I came up here to tell you I was going to make some fruit salad for desert tonight," Jean continued calmly. "I wanted to know if you'd come down and help me. It gets lonely in the kitchen without someone to keep me company."

Everyone in the hall but Jean held their breath, waiting for the inevitable, No.

"Do we have to talk about school?" came from behind the door.

"Absolutely not," Jean confirmed. "Not unless you want to."

Again, the lack of breathing in the hall was obvious. Will this work? Hank wondered.

"O-okay then," Siku agreed. "Can you just give me a minute to wash my face an' change?"

"Sure," Jean said cheerfully. She turned and looked at the men. "Why don't you all go find something else to do?" she suggested.

Her fellow teammates exchanged looks. Hank nodded. "An excellent idea. I have some work in the lab anyway." He looked at Jean, hoping, almost praying he didn't sound too concerned. How much is too much? Is it even possible to be overly worried about your child? "If she needs me..."

"I'll tell her," Jean said softly.

"You know Siku, I've never met anyone who can peal an orange as good as you."

Sikudhani looked up at Jean and back at the orange in her hand. Her fingernails were naturally long, sharp, and slightly hooked. "I-I never really thought about it," she admitted, as she slid one nail into the orange and pealing away the skin in one long spiral. "I-I just do it that way."

"I know," Jean smiled warmly. They were sitting at the kitchen table, cutting boards in front of them, a big bowl in the middle and a variety of fruit scattered about that they were cutting up. "You do it so easily." She leaned over and picked up one of the discarded orange peals. "One long peal, no breaks. Whenever I peal an orange, it comes off in chunks, taking half the orange skin too. If I had a nickel for every time I squirted myself in the eye with orange juice..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head.

"It-it's easy," Sikudhani admitted.

"Sure, it's easy for you." Jean took a cluster of grapes and began separating them from the stem. "It's one of your talents, one of the many things that make you special."

Siku looked away from the table towards the window. "There's nothing special about me," she murmured softly.

"Oh?" Jean tipped her head to one side, studying the girl, who was trying her hardest not to look at her. "Why do you say that Siku?"

"Are you reading my mind?" Siku asked cautiously.

"No," Jean assured her. "You know I'd never do that unless I felt it was absolutely necessary. But, I don't have to be a telepath to know something is bothering you."

"Am I that transparent?" Siku asked wistfully.

"Well, locking yourself in your room and refusing to talk to anyone was sort of a hint," Jean said with a gentle smile.

For a moment, Siku's face stayed expressionless. "I-I guess that was a pretty big clue," she admitted with a slight hint of a grin on her face.

"You want to tell me what got you so upset?" Jean asked, casually.

Siku's brief smile faded away. She started sectioning the orange she just pealed and putting them into the bowl. "Aunt Jean?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't I have a mother?"

The question was answered innocently enough, but it was obviously not a casual question. Jean put down the grapes and looked at her. "Well, the obvious reason is because your father isn't married, but I think you already know that."

Sikudhani nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up into a wry grin. "I know. I know I'm adopted too, but today at school, some of the kids... were asking me about my mother." She looked back down at the cutting board.

"What did you say?" Jean asked, gently prompting her to continue.

"I told them what Daddy's always told me." Siku looked up at Jean. "That my mother didn't feel she could take care of me, so she asked Unca' Remy to bring me to Daddy."

Jean smiled. Over the years, Sikudhani's arrival to the mansion had been sweetened up a bit for the child's sake. The story hadn't been twisted into a lie, but the more unpleasant facts, such as Sikudhani's birth mother being a prostitute and literally forcing Gambit to take her had been a little glossed over. Siku's story, as it was referred to at the mansion, was one of the girl's favorite tales and she regularly demanded different members of the team to tell it to her. Everyone had their own version their own perspective to add to it, but the main facts stayed the same.

Sikudhani's lower lip began to quiver, ever so slightly. "I was gonna tell them the rest of it, how Daddy took one look at me and decided he couldn't live without me, but they wouldn't let me." Her voice raised ever so slightly and her words started coming out faster and faster as something inside her was making her say them. "Bethanny said my mother didn't want me. That-she-gave-me-up-'cause-I'm-some-sort-of freak. That -no- one- would-want- me- 'cept- Daddy, -and -that's- cause- he's- a- freak- too." She looked up at Jean, the fine blue hair around her eyes glistening with tears. "Is it true? Are we freaks?"

If this "Bethanny" were standing in the kitchen right now, it would take everything Jean had not to slap her across the face. Fortunately, she wasn't there, but Sikudhani was. She pushed the chair away from the table. "No, you're not a freak and neither is your dad. Come here honey."

Siku hesitated, then almost jumped out of her chair, rushing to Jean, throwing her arms around the woman as she climbed into her lap. "I didn't know what to do," she confessed, burying her head in her aunt's shoulder. "I wanted to scream at Bethanny, tell her she was wrong, but the other girls were there, not saying nothing an' I didn't know what to do. I knew if I said anything, I'd start crying an' I didn't want to give them the..." she paused, trying to find the right word, "sat-is-fac-tion!"

Jean put her arms around the child, holding her tightly. "It's all right Siku. There are times when it's best just to walk away, and that was one of them."

"No it wasn't!" Sikudhani protested. "I should have said something. I should have told them Daddy wasn't a freak, that he's the smartest, best Dad in the world, but I didn't! Now they think they're right!"

"Siku, honey, it doesn't matter if they think they're right. Thinking she's right doesn't make Bethanny right."

There was a long silence, then Siku twisted her neck so she faced her aunt. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Siku, if you thought the sky was purple, that wouldn't make it purple," Jean explained. "Sometimes people think different things. Sometimes they think things that are cruel and mean, but that doesn't mean they're real, or right."

"But if everyone thought they were real-" Sikudhani began.

"That still wouldn't make them right," Jean interrupted, wanting to press her point. "Siku, do you think your dad is a freak?"

"No!" Siku cried, looking highly indignant that Jean would even suggest such a thing.

"Why not?" Jean asked.

Siku's brows furrowed. Didn't Aunt Jean know her father wasn't a freak? Didn't she know he- "He's wonderful!" she blurted out. "He's really smart, but he never makes me feel dumb, even though I'm just a kid. He's always busy doing something, yet if I need him he puts it away and spends time with me. He plays games and he tells the best stories, and I love him! He's the best dad in the world!" She drew away from the woman, looking at her with an expression of concern. "Don't you know that Aunty Jean?"

"I've known your father is a very special person for a long time," Jean said, a faint sparkle in her eyes. "Your uncle Scott, Bobby, Warren, in fact, everyone here knows your father is a wonderful person. In fact, wouldn't you say just about everyone who knows him, likes or loves your father?"

Sikudhani nodded. "I don't know anyone who doesn't like him, really. So why did Bethanny say he was a freak?"

"Because Bethanny doesn't know him," Jean said simply. "And Bethanny didn't think about what she said. I don't know if she was trying to be cruel or simply... ignorant."

"Ignorant?" Sikudhani's eyes flashed. "What does that mean?"

"Someone who doesn't know better."

She nodded, her brows furrowing again. Jean smiled, knowing her niece was trying to force the word into her long-term memory to be used every chance she got.

Once the new word was carefully logged and noted into her memory, Siku frowned again. "What about me? Bethanny knows me... so am I a freak?"

"No honey, you're not," Jean said, reaching up to brush a stray lock of royal blue hair which fell into the girl's eyes. "You're smart, bright, friendly, and cute as a button. Definitely not a freak."

"Then why did she call me that?" Sikudhani persisted.

"Because she saw you're different," Jean explained. "And to people like Bethanny, anyone different is... frightening. Maybe Bethanny feels different herself and doesn't want anyone to know."

"What's wrong with bein' different?"

"Absolutely nothing," Jean said. "It would be a very sad world if everyone was the same, wouldn't it?" As the child nodded, she continued. "But sometimes people don't like feeling different. They want to be just like everyone else. They think that if they make fun of someone who looks different, people won't notice that they themselves feel different. Siku, just as your dad is a very special person, so are you. You are unique and wonderful. If Bethanny, or anyone else ever makes fun of you for being who you are, or makes fun of your father, remember that. The people who love you, think you're special and wouldn't change a hair on your head."

Slowly, Sikudhani smiled, then the smile faded into a worried look. "But... but... if I'm so wonderful, why did my mother give me away?"

This is where it gets difficult, Jean thought. No matter how much Siku is loved and wanted around here, there is still the fact that she was given up, and we really don't know the reasons why. "I can't really tell you that," she finally admitted. "Your birth mother didn't give Remy a reason. But, from what we've been able to piece together, she was young and she didn't have... much of a future. It's never easy being a single mother. Maybe she was... nervous, about having such a special little girl. Perhaps she thought that your father would be able to give you the things she couldn't."

"Why didn't she try?" Sikudhani asked. "I mean, I was her kid... shouldn't she have at least tried to keep me?"

"I don't know that honey," Jean said. "As I just said, she didn't give your uncle Remy the reasons why she couldn't keep you."

"Why not?"

"Maybe it was too painful for her to talk about," Jean offered. "I wish I knew all the answers for you Siku, but I don't." She reached up and ran the back of her fingers along the child's cheek, wiping away a stray tear or two. "But I can tell you this: It doesn't matter what reasons your birth mother had for giving you up, what matters is that you came here. You have a family here. You have more aunts and uncles who adore you. You have a father who thinks the sun rises and sets on you. I can't answer all the questions of your past, I can just tell you that now, at this moment, I don't think there is a child anywhere who is more loved, or more wanted. Can you believe that Siku?"

The child hesitated, then nodded, wrapping her arms around Jean, hugging her tightly. "I know that, Aunty Jean, but sometimes... I wish I were more... normal."

There was a sad, wistful longing in Sikudhani's voice that struck a painful chord inside Jean. How many times did I wish the same thing when I was younger? she asked herself. She shifted Siku so the child was straddling her knees, facing her. "I understand," she said softly. "But, if you'd been 'normal' you might have never been brought to your father."

Sikudhani's eyes widened as her mind flashed upon the possibility. "No, that-" she began then stopped. Her aunt was right. She and Hank belonged together, but they might have never had the chance to be together if she hadn't been born with blue hair, not only on her head, but all over her body, her birth mother, might have never decided she belonged with Hank. That would be even worse. "I don' wanna be 'normal' then," she whispered. "I just wanna be me."

Jean hugged her again, tighter this time. "I'm glad to hear that Siku, because I'm rather fond of you just the way you are now."

Siku hugged her back, then slid off her lap. "Aunty Jean, would you excuse me? There's something I want to do. It won't take long, and I'll come right back and help you with dinner."

Jean nodded. "Take all the time you need, Little One."

Squinting, Hank studied the computer screen. My mind is really not on this, he thought, as he scrolled down the screen. My mind is in the kitchen, wondering what is bothering my daughter and if Jean has been able to help her. Why didn't she want to talk to me about it?

Pretending to look at the computer while contemplating parental problems had Hank occupied enough that he didn't notice when the door to the room quietly opened and somebody slipped in. "Daddy?"

He looked up, swiveling in the chair to look. "Siku?"

She looked at him, her head tipped to one side, her bright blue eyes studying him intently. "I-I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

He shook his head. "You can never disturb me Sunshine. Are you all right?"

She nodded, moving over to him and climbing into his lap. "I'm sorry I yelled at everyone today, an' I'm sorry I locked myself in my room. It was..." she paused, trying to find the right word. "...immature of me."

Hank suppressed a smile, wrapping his arms around his daughter. "It's all right Siku," he assured her. "You are certainly entitled to be immature once in awhile."

She snuggled against him, her cheek resting on his chest. Her dad usually wandered around the mansion without a shirt on and she love being able to cuddle up to him, to feel the soft blue fur. Okay, maybe I'm different, she told herself, and maybe my dad is different, but I'm sure no one at school has a dad like mine. Nobody's dad is both strong, cuddly and furry. Nobody. I'm not a freak and neither is he. We're just both- "Unique!" she burst out.

"Excuse me?" Hank asked, quirking a brow.

"I'm sorry." Siku's skin turned faintly pink under her hair. "I was just thinkin' an' part of it.. escaped."

Hank stifled a chuckle. "Escaped huh? Well, what were you thinking about? I couldn't figure it out from just hearing you say 'unique.'"

"I was thinkin' 'bout you an' me," Siku confessed softly. "How we're both unique."

Although she tried to sound rather casual, Hank was in tune with his daughter and knew the comment was connected with her being upset earlier. Siku lived among people who could fly, meld into shadows, and turn themselves into ice. The McCoy's were almost tame in comparison at times. "That we are Sunshine," he agreed, his tone calm, but probing. "Does that bother you?"

She shook her head, looking straight into his eyes. "No. Well, maybe it bothered me for a little while today, but not anymore. Cause it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, what matters is I don' want anythin' 'bout you to change. I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too Sunshine," Hank kissed the top of her forehead. "And I don't want to change anything about you either."

"Good," Siku agreed, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "'Cause you're stuck with me forever."

Hank chuckled. "That's something I think I can deal with." He poked her gently in the sides, causing her to giggle. "And remember, you're stuck with me too. I'm your father. Even if you get married and have a million kids, you're still going to be my little girl. Don't you ever forget that."

Sikudhani giggled, squirming to get away from the tickling finger. "I won't forget, I promise."

The End