"Mr. McCoy!" Anna barged into Mr McCoy's office, startling the blue, older mutant so much by this unexpected interruption that he fell off his chair and banged his head against the wall. Picking himself up and rubbing his head, he asked dazedly, "What's wrong, Anna?"

"What's wrong?" Anna demanded, gripping the edge of the table. "What's wrong?" She gripped it even tighter until her knuckles turned white. "It's Christmas, for goodness sakes, Mr McCoy-"

"Yes, so…?" Mr McCoy asked, popping the last of his sandwich into his mouth. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes!" Anna finally burst out in exasperation. "Christmas is all about sharing good times with your family, isn't it?" her voice broke on the last part, obviously remembering previous Christmases with her family, most of who were dead now. She sat by the fire and poked the dying embers, jabbing her finger so viciously that the stubborn wood eventually gave and crackled into flames.

"What's the problem, Anna?" Mr McCoy asked patiently, settling into the chair by the fire and staring down at the small girl, as her face was illuminated by the red flames. Anna's voice was sharp as she replied. "What's the problem?" she replied. She stood up and faced Mr. McCoy. "The problem is at least a hundred orphans who have nothing to do, nowhere to go on Christmas Day!" She paced around the study restlessly.

"Well, what do you expect?" Mr McCoy asked patiently. His mind drifted to what Anna was probably referring to. "A mansion full of mutants can't exactly adopt the whole orphanage of innocent children-"

"Not adopt," Anna cut in, her pacing becoming slower as she faced him. "I said they have nothing to do. Nothing," she repeated, her eyes boring into his. And the clarity hit Hank McCoy like a ton of bricks.

"Where is Hank, then?" Logan grumbled, claws popping out impatiently. He sniffed the air for like the thousandth time. "I don't smell him," he said again. Ororo and Charles Xavier sighed impatiently. "Logan," Ororo groaned for the millionth time, "Relax. Smell the roses that are outside the window."

"Yes, Logan," Professor Xavier agreed. "You must learn to slow down." He stopped as Logan held up a hand, sniffing energetically. "I smell Hank and Anna."

"Anna?" Professor Xavier repeated, a frown creasing his forehead. "We didn't invite Anna…did we?"

"No, you didn't," Anna's voice wafted in from the open doorway. She walked into the room behind Mr. McCoy. She jerked a finger at him. "He did." Logan looked at her. "But we're supposed to be discussing Christmas-" he began, and would have said the word "presents" if Ororo hadn't zapped him with a lightning bolt. She smiled sweetly at Anna, who apparently hadn't noticed anything. "If you're discussing Christmas," she told him. "I have something to ask you…"

"So, you see, these orphans are going to be alone for Christmas," Anna finished, out of breath as she ended her story. The adults, with the exception of Logan, who was trying to slice a cork on Professor Xavier's desk to pieces, were looking interested.

"It's a sensible idea," Professor Xavier said at last. He stroked his chin as he stared into the embers. "And a good one too. I think that all the mutants in this mansion, with the exception of us adults, are getting bored."

"Speak for yourself, Chuck," Logan muttered, accidentally slicing through the desk. He suddenly brightened. "If they're bored, why don't we start giving them extra Danger Room sessions?" he suggested, with extra excitement in his voice.

"Excuse me?" Anna replied, rolling her eyes. "Why do you think they haven't been telling you they're bored?"

Logan scowled at her. He hated being with Anna sometimes.

"So, what do you suggest we put on for those orphans?" Ororo asked, tactfully changing the subject. Anna thought it over a while. "I though about the book Ballet Shoes for Anna,"she replied. Ororo nodded. "That is a good book," she admitted. "Especially about the part where Anna finally finds her ballet teacher…"

Hank cut in abruptly. He knew how Ororo could get when she was rambling about her favorite book. "So," he announced, "I thought we could make Anna director or producer of this play." Anna looked up, surprised. "Oh, I couldn't possibly-" she said at last, half-heartedly and trying to stifle a smile. She knew exactly what was going to happen.

She was right. The adults burst into assurances and started telling her that she would be perfect. Hank rounded it all up with the words, "You can even pick who plays what!"

Anna grinned. Oh, this Christmas was going to be fun, all right.