Summary: Striker knows more than one way to comfort his daughter when she's scared.

"Maria? Are you okay, sugarplum?"

Striker quietly opened the door and stepped inside. The crib, cradle, mobile, and other baby stuff had long been replaced with a small child's bed with a lilac floral print comforter, a matching rug, and a little table which had Maria's crayons and paper all over. In one corner of the room was a toy chest he'd built for her which had several plushies sitting on top of it, most of them either ponies or kitties.

Striker spotted a trembling ball under the blankets. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently lifted the sheets revealing a tearful Maria.

"What's the matter, baby girl?" he inquired, wiping his daughter's tears.

Maria flung herself into his arms weeping softly. Striker briefly glanced out her window only to see a clear starry night sky. If there'd been a thunderstorm out, he'd know she wouldn't be able to sleep well. What else could there be? Perhaps...?

"Aww sweetie, are ya scared of the dark?" Her nod confirmed his suspicions. "It's okay, baby girl. Daddy's here, daddy's gotcha."

The sound of his voice did little to calm Maria down. She was trembling. Striker noticed her little nightlight wasn't on and when he tried to turn on the bedside lamp nothing happened. The power must've gone out while they were asleep. A lullaby wouldn't be much help at this point, but luckily, he knew another way.

"Would ya like to hear a story?"

Maria beamed up at him. "Stowy!"

Chuckling, Striker, keeping her in his arms, went to fetch her favorite storybook: A Collection of Fairytales. He sat back down, adjusting his daughter on his lap.

"How 'bout this one? I don't think I've read it before." He knew he caught her interest when she nodded eagerly.

"On a cold and snowy winter's night, a little girl was walking all alone in the dark with freezing hands and no shoes on. When she'd left home, she had worn her mother's large slippers, but the poor child had lost them running across the street when two carriages were passing quickly by. One had been taken away by a boy and the other was nowhere to be seen."

Maria had forgotten all about the dark as she listened to the story, snuggling in her dad's embrace.

"So, the little girl went on with her bare feet, which were now red and blue from the cold. In the apron she wore, she held bundles of matches while carrying one in her hand. All day, she'd been trying to sell them, but no one had even given her a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, the child crept along feeling miserable. The snow continued falling so hard, it stung her eyes and some snowflakes stuck to her hair, but she kept going. Lights shone from every window and she could smell the delicious scent of roast goose from every house for this particular night was New Year's Eve."

Maria whimpered knowing full what that meant.

"Don't worry, baby doll, this ain't that kind of story. I promise, you're safe." Striker rubbed her arm, soothing her instantly, before resuming the story. "Eventually, the little girl sat in a corner between two houses, tucking her cold feet underneath herself, but still she grew colder and colder."

"Couldn't she go home?" Maria asked. Striker shook his head.

"She didn't dare do that because she knew her father would be angry with her for not selling a single match or making any money. Besides, it was cold enough at home as they only had a roof with holes in it."

"Hew dada's a meanie!"

"Couldn't have said it better myself, baby girl. By now, the child was so cold she thought maybe one match would at least warm her fingers. So, at last, she took one out and struck it against the wall. It blazed and burned with a warm, bright flame like a little candle and as she held her hands over it, it seemed to her that she was sitting right in front of a great iron stove with a blazing fire inside. She held her feet out to warm them as well feeling quite comfortable. But suddenly, the flame went out and the stove vanished and all that remained was the little burned match in her hand."

"The child loved the warm feeling so much, she decided to light another. Once she did, the light against the wall was so bright she could suddenly see right through it and was now looking at a large table which had plates and warm, delicious food all around. In the center of the feast was a stuffed roast goose cooked and ready to eat. All of a sudden, the goose stood up, jumped off the table, and began to run towards her."

"Did she eat it?"

"Sadly, no, for the match went out and the feast was gone; there was nothing but the thick, damp wall. When she lit another one, she found herself standing right under the largest and most beautifully decorated Christmas tree she'd ever seen."

"What's Chwistmas, dada?" Maria asked innocently. Striker pondered for a minute.

"It's a lot like Sinsmas, except made more for the ones up above us."

"You mean up thewe?"

"I do. However, the tree she was seeing had lots of candles burning bright on every branch and little painted figures, just like the ones she'd seen in shop windows, looking down at her. The child stretched her hands up to them but the match suddenly went out once more. Still, the lights of the tree burned higher and higher into the sky until she saw one fall forming a long trail of fire. 'Now someone is dying' she murmured softly; her grandmother, the only person who ever really loved her, who was now dead, had told her that whenever a star falls a soul goes up to heaven."

"Did she wight anothew?"

"She sure did and when that happened, there stood her grandmother smiling at her. The little girl began to cry: 'Oh grandmother, take me with you. I know you will go away when the match burns out, just like the stove, and the feast, and the Christmas tree.' And to make sure her grandmother would never disappear, she lit up a whole bundle of matches against the wall. They burned so bright, the light was much stronger than the sun. Then her grandmother took her in her arms and they both flew away from the cold earth all the way up to heaven, together forever."

"The next morning, people found the little girl laying back against the wall; she'd froze to death but had a smile on her face. They knew she'd been trying to warm herself, courtesy of all the burnt matches at her feet, but they'd never know about the wonderful things she'd seen or how happy she was to be with her grandmother. The end."

"Awe they in heaven now, dada?"

"They might be." Striker gently stroked his daughter's cheek as Maria let out a yawn. "Alright, let's get you back to bed, little missy."

As he tucked her in, he saw that her nightlight was shining; it must've clicked back on during the story. Now, Maria could sleep peacefully.

"Dada?"

"Hmm?"

"Wuv you."

"I love you too, princess." Striker kissed her forehead then made his way out the door once he was certain she fell asleep.