Birthdays

I don't own them. Really I don't ok maybe Christine, but I don't own the rest. Marvel Entertainment, Inc and Fox Entertainment do.

Chapter 1

Marie looked at the clock. The sounds of Mariah screaming ripped through the morning. It was only seven thirty, and she was already giving Logan hell. Marie tried to pull the covers over her head, but it just wouldn't work. She wondered if that high pitched voice was a mutation, or just designed to make sure everyone knew Mariah Howlett wasn't happy.

"I hate you." She heard her scream as she ran down the hallway. Marie stuck her head out of her room just in time to see her go pelting down the stairs, her father, half dressed trying to catch her. He tripped on a loose piece of rug at the top of the stairs and went falling head first down them. By the time he had stood up and shaken off the fall, Mariah was out the front door.

Logan looked up where Marie was standing in her nightgown and gloves. He just threw his hands out, as if daring her to judge him, and took off out the door after his daughter. Happy Birthday Mariah, Marie thought to herself. This one was already off on the wrong foot. She turned around and went to her room to dress. Logan was going to need help tracking her down. She had started teleporting this year, and it was hard for him to track her down when she didn't leave a scent trail.

Logan ran down the driveway, looking to see where she had run to. He couldn't smell which direction she went so he knew she had teleported.

"Damn it Mariah, come back here." He shouted. "Mariah!"

He started looking in all the places a five year old would hide. She wasn't in the garage, she wasn't behind the fountain, she wasn't in Ro's flower garden, she wasn't under the benches, and thank God she wasn't in the pool. Marie came out the back door as he was checking the pool, and just gave him that look. The one that said 'dumbass' and started looking for her too.

"Mariah." She called, drawing it out with her accent. They looked for over an hour.

Logan was really starting to get worried now. "MARIAH ELIZABETH HOWLETT." But there was no sign of her. She had done this recently, and it had been three hours and everyone searching before they found her sitting happily on her bed, enjoying the fun of the hide and seek game. He hoped and prayed she would do that today.

He came around the corner of the building just as the Professor's black sedan pulled up to the door. Well that would help, Chuck would at least be able to tell if she were in any danger.

He walked up as Bobby opened the trunk to pull out the wheelchair. Logan walked to the open passenger door.

"Is your daughter missing again?" Charles smiled at the red faced Wolverine.

"Yea, she didn't like how I was combing her hair. Can ya tell if she is ok?"

"Yes, Logan, she is fine. She doesn't want to come back yet, but she is safe."

"Damn it. Tell her to get her ass back here now."

"Logan, that isn't how you deal with a five year old." Charles laughed. Normally, once Logan knew she was safe, it would become a game. Charles could read his anguish, and suddenly remembered what day it was.

"Logan, give her some time, and you take some time as well." He said gently. Bobby pushed his chair over and helped him into it. The rear door to the car opened and the young woman he had been to recruit stepped from the car. Logan barely noticed her; he was scanning the woods looking for some sign of his wayward daughter.

"Have you checked the house?" Bobby asked.

"Marie has had the kids checking top to bottom. There are parties out in the woods now, looking for her. She has been gone over an hour."

Just then the young woman stepped into Logan's view. She was dressed in an expensive Wall Street style suit, high heels and heading into the woods. What the hell did she think she was doing?

"Who the hell is that?"

"Dr. Christine Burke. She is taking the English position here at the school."

"Whatever. I am going to check Mariah's room again." If the expensive looking English teacher wanted to get her suit dirty that was her business. He had a daughter to find.

Christine entered the woods quietly. She hadn't believed Charles when he said she was a mutant. She had never shown any type of mutation, ever in her life, and at thirty knew it would be a cold day in hell before anything manifested. Just because she could read people well, just because she understood all those subtle non verbal communication signals people sent out to let you know how they felt, didn't mean she was a mutant. She had agreed to come and look at the school, simply because she wanted to get out of the pubic schools. When that man, Logan had come up to the car, she had been overwhelmed. How did anyone live like that? She could see the pain in him, and fear, she understood about his daughter being missing, but that couldn't be causing all the grief and pain she saw.

No, Christine, felt. You are an empath, and a strong one. You have allowed yourself to think it was just being able to read body language, but it is more. All Logan's body language said was anxiety and anger about his daughter. The other is buried much deeper than that. THERE, but deep.

She hated it when he did that. Her mind was her own place, and she didn't want anyone probing around in there. She had decided to take a walk, to get away from feeling out of place. She walked along a path until suddenly she had an urge to leave it, to go out into the underbrush. She didn't know why, but somehow, there was something drawing her to a certain pile of blackberry bushes.

She knelt down on the ground and looked inside the bushes. There, huddled in the middle, surrounded by toys and blankets and even a half crushed bag of fig cookies sat a little girl, crying.

"Hello."

"How'd you find me?" She demanded.

"I don't really know." Christine answered.

"My Daddy wouldn't brush my hair, he wanted to use a comb and that hurts." Oh so that was the problem.

"Well, I have a brush right here in my purse. I can brush it for you if you would like."

The little girl came slowly out of the bushes. She winced a little as a thorn scratched her. Christine sat on the ground, and pulled her hairbrush out of her purse. The little girl sat on the ground in front of her and let her brush her dark curly hair.

"What's your name?" The little girl asked.

"Christine. What's yours?"

"Mariah. Mariah Elizabeth Howlett." She said it like it was the most important thing in the world.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Howlett." Christine said as she ran the brush through her long hair. She didn't know why, but she felt the little girl might like it braided.

"You know, I think your Daddy is very worried about you." Christine said, as she plaited her hair.

"Daddy is mad. Today is my birthday and Daddy is always mad on my birthday."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know."

"Does your Mommy get mad on your birthday?"

"I don't have a Mommy, just a Daddy." The sadness in Mariah's voice caused a lump in Christine's throat.

"Well, your hair is all pretty now for your birthday, but I don't have a good mirror to show you. Why don't we go back to the house and you can look there?" Christine started to stand up. A small hand slipped into hers.

"Thank you. Auntie Marie says a lady should always say please and thank you."

"Well, your Auntie Marie is absolutely right." Christine winked at Mariah. The two of them walked slowly back to the mansion, Mariah showing Christine all sorts of interesting sites on the way back. As they came out of the woods, it looked as if an army was running down the lawn towards them. Mariah held even tighter to Christine's hand.

"Mariah. Where have ya been sugar?" A young woman with dark hair and a strange platinum streak in the front said as she ran up and gave the little girl a hug.

"In my playhouse, Auntie Marie." She said as she looked down at her scuffed shoe. She knew she was in trouble.

"Yur Daddy's been worried sick, honey." Marie said as she picked up the little girl. Mariah wouldn't let go of Christine's hand. Marie looked at her. "Who're you."

"Christine Burke. Professor Xavier asked me to look over the school."

"How'd ya find her?"

"I honestly don't know."

"I want Christine to carry me." Mariah said.

Marie looked at Christine in askance, and then handed over the little girl. Suddenly, Logan was standing there, a very angry Logan.

"Mariah Elizabeth Howlett, don't you ever run off like that again." He started in on her as he tried to take her from Christine. Her little arms locked around Christine's neck, almost choking her. He glared at the woman holding his daughter, as if she had something to do with it. "You are coming with me right now."

Mariah's arms slowly released from Christine's neck. Her small tear streaked face was turned to face her angry father. He crushed her against his chest. Christine saw tears in the corners of his eyes. He had been afraid, afraid she was hurt, but more afraid he had lost her. Christine pulled back into the crowd of people surrounding father and daughter.

Christine, please come into the main house. You are feeling overwhelmed by all the people around you. Your powers are not under control. You need to learn to shield, to only allow in what you need to pick up and filter out the rest.

Christine couldn't focus on what else he was saying. Her eyes fogged over and she collapsed on the ground. She didn't know who picked her up or carried her into the house, but she woke up in a plush office, lying on a sofa.

Professor Xavier was sitting next to her, holding her hand. For some reason the room seemed almost empty. More than any place she had ever been in her life.

"That is because I have a shield built into this office, a place I can relax my own personal shields. It filters out telepathic and empathic projections."

"So that is why it is so quiet." Christine said.

"Yes. Reading people's thoughts all the time, even only surface thoughts, can get tiring. I need a place for peace and quiet." He chuckled.

"Oh." She thought about all the things he had been telling her the last few days, about the powers she didn't even realize she had. She had always been able to know what people were feeling, only lately had it been becoming overwhelming. Last month one of the students at the high school where she taught had committed suicide and Christine had thought she was going to collapse under the weight of the grief around her. Now she understood, or thought she did.

"Yes what happened last month caused your mutation to develop further, as you tried to deal with your own grief, as well as that of your students. I have had Peter and Bobby install this same type of shielding in the room I am putting you in, so you have a quiet place of your own, at least until we can teach you to shield properly."

"Who brought me up here, after I passed out?"

"That would be Peter."

"Oh. Is Mariah alright?"

"Yes, and having birthday cake and ice cream as we speak. At least this little scare kept Logan home and more worried about her than his own grief this year."

"I know it is probably none of my business, but why does he hate Mariah's birthday so much."

"His wife died giving birth to her."

"Oh." Well that explained a lot.

Christine walked up the stairs, the sounds of a five year olds birthday party following her up. She could feel the underlying grief, but somehow, the joy was there too. She just hoped someday he would see how much joy she gave him, and not tie himself up with the grief. She didn't even know these people, but she cared.

A little while later, a soft tap came at the door. She opened it, and found Mariah standing there, a hair brush in her hand, a Little Mermaid night gown on.

"Would you brush my hair? Daddy always pulls it."

"Sure. Come in." She left the door open, and Mariah sat down on the bed. Christine sat behind her, pulling out what was left of the braid from earlier and brushing it out, and replaiting it.

"Thank you." Mariah hugged her. "Daddy's not so mad at me this year. I didn't even get time out for running away."

"That's a good thing." Christine said. She heard a sound at the door, and looked up. Logan was leaning on the door jam, looking at Mariah.

"It's bedtime, young lady." He said.

"G'night." She kissed Christine on the cheek.

"Goodnight." Christine said as the little girl walked out the door.

"I want to thank you. I was really scared." She saw him looking at the ground.

"Not a problem, go take care of your daughter." Christine stood up and closed the door as he turned away. He followed the little imp down the hallway. He put her to bed, read her favorite bedtime story, tucked her in, and then closed her door. He walked across the hall to his own room, and collapsed on the bed. He let the tears come. He still missed her, damn it. He could still see her, laughing, her eyes sparkling, as she leaned over him. They didn't understand, didn't remember. Mariah had been born on their anniversary. He would never forget.