Making new acquaintances [Attn: Cannonball]

[heather]

"James White, I know you're supposed to be in class right now." The cheerful whistle that had been coming from her was swiftly replaced with the 'teacher voice' when Heather spotted one of her more interesting students clearly skipping class. The boy seemed to be opening his mouth, ready to give her trouble, but she just raised her eyebrows at him and pointed.

Her expression clearly said, 'Oh, I dare you to argue.' She'd gotten very good at that face. Disbelief, daring, a hint of amusement and a bucket full of warning. Her friends back at college had thought it was great, sure that she'd developed it during her time as an Au Pair.

Heather wasn't so sure. All she knew was that it worked, at least 90% of the time. This was one of those 90%. As James trudged off, little sparks of irritation flying from his eyes, Heather clutched her folder to her more tightly and went back to whistling.

Cream coloured skirts dragged behind her as she wandered over to the edge of the gardens, crouching down to breathe deeply of the scents before she continued on her way. Marking papers in her room - even in her classroom, which was light and airy - did not seem like the nicest way to spend her afternoon. So she headed over to the ornamental table and chairs, opening her folder and gazing down at the first of the book reports without really paying attention to it. It was much too nice a day to be working - she was supposed to have the rest of the afternoon off. But papers needed to be graded, tests written - there was always something to do.

Like getting into a whistling contest with a starling, the quite obviously mutant teacher imitating its song perfectly. The pair of them continued on like that for a good few minutes before a massive bang startled them both, and her avian companion flew away. Blinking uncertainly, she turned to look for the source of the noise and spotted... What could only be described as an orange monstrosity making its way down the drive.

That it could actually move, sounding the way it did, amazed her.

With a sigh, she looked back at the book report, disappointed that her distraction had been scared away.

[Cannonball]

The orange monstrosity was, of course, the Sammy-mobile. It had astounded even him that he had managed to get it back on the road again after the steering arm had collapsed, but he was a pretty good engineer all things considered and it was back up and running.

For the entirety of the drive home from the city following his meeting with Brenda, Sam had been miserable beyond anything he'd known in so many years. The last time he had felt like this had been in those dark, dark days following the death of his father. The days when he had sat, hour on hour, with his head in his hands, blaming himself for his own failure in rescuing Daddy from the mine.

It had taken quite a few extremely hard words from Paige and Momma to snap him out of that near-suicidal depression, and he could feel himself now, after Brenda's words, starting to slide back down there.

Sam was different now. He was older, more able to deal with a mental crisis, right?

Wrong, a morose inner voice said to him.

The exhaust spat out a plume of thick, blue-tinged smoke, distracting him from his misery. He needed to change the oil. He added it to the mental list of 'Things Needing Doing To The Car', ignoring the recurring number one which was 'Junk The Bastard Thing'.

As he pulled up in the driveway and switched off the ignition, he counted the requisite count of five and waited for the exhaust to backfire.

It obliged, loudly and gladly.

Sam took several deep breaths, trying to beat down the misery that emanated from him like a cloud of gloom. Eventually, he realised that sitting inside the car wasn't going to afford him protection from the world at large forever, and he got out.

[heather]

Oh, god, even when it was off, the thing didn't stop making noise. The loud backfire actually made Heather visibly jump, so unexpected it was, and she looked up again to see the man who was obviously the owner getting out.

Well, it wasn't his fault that the thing made so much noise, was it? Unless his mutant power somehow involved loud bangs happening on cue.

Tucking a stray wave behind her ear, she offered the man - who seemed about her age, mid to late twenties - a small smile and called out, "Is it always that noisy?" At least it wasn't the middle of the night. She could only imagine the reception it would get then.

She searched her brain to try to remember if she'd met him yet. It seemed unlikely - he didn't look overly familiar, and Heather was reasonably sure that she'd remember if he was on the faculty. Still, she was only new - it was entirely possible that she just hadn't run into him yet.

[Cannonball]

Sam looked up as a female voice called and attracted his attention.

"Is it always that noisy?"

"Heck, yeah," he replied, turning towards her and giving her his most rueful grin. "I tried just 'bout everythin' to dampen down that darned exhaust, includin' changin' it for a new one, but it ain't ever gonna behave the way I want."

In need of company, knowing that if he went to his room he would end up broody and depressed, Sam began walking towards the woman. "Got some time off work," he said. "Figured I might spend time workin' on the ol' gal, make her a little bit quieter so she don't disturb y'all again."

Close up, he revealed himself to be a surprisingly handsome man, if almost as scruffy and badly presented as his vehicle. Blond hair that stuck up crazily and a navy blue short-sleeved shirt that showed off his well-muscled arms to perfection.

Why he had chosen to wear light-coloured trousers defied all logic, however. He'd managed to pick up any number of stains from somewhere. There was something faintly...untidy about the man, but somehow it suited him. It was like he was a permanant ten year old - and the lopsided grin on his face fit that image perfectly.

"I'm Sam Guthrie," he said, holding out a hand to her. "Paige is my sister, I'm guessin' ya might know who she is?"

[heather]

Standing as he approached, the violet-eyed teacher's smile grew. "Heather Doherty." She took his hand and shook it warmly, nodding. "I've heard of Paige, but I don't know that I've had the pleasure, yet - I haven't met all that many outside of my own classes."

He had very nice arms. It was hard not to notice. Heather took her seat again and motioned at the spare one opposite, wondering whether she'd been wrong in her estimation of his age. From what she'd heard, Paige was more like Bobby Drake's age. But then, some people waited a long time between children. No way of knowing, really, without asking - and she wasn't about to do that.

"I don't suppose it could be something other than the exhaust that's causing the problem? I don't know much about cars, but I do remember our truck back home having a terrible rattle until we changed the catalytic converter. Not quite like your bangs, but maybe something else is the problem?" It was very easy to imagine Sam rolling up his sleeves and getting covered in grease on the front lawn, for some reason. Maybe it was because of the stains on his pants.

It took a supreme effort of will not to start imitating his accent. It was hard for her sometimes - that was, after all, what she did most of the time over here, imitating the people around her so that they had no idea of her origins. Except when she was visiting with her father. Him, Heather kept her real accent for.

"Are you just here to visit Paige, then?"

[Cannonball]

"Why, thank ya, Heather," he said as she offered him a seat. He settled down and leaned back in the chair. "I'm givin' some serious thought to strippin' down the whole darned engine to tell ya the truth. I know I should probably junk the ol' girl, but we've been together for a lot of years an' I'm a sentimental ol' fool."

The thought flashed across his mind that he could just as easily be talking about Brenda as about his car. Damn her. Why did he have to keep coming full circle back to thoughts of his estranged wife?

He snapped himself forcibly back to the here and now.

"Yup, just here visitin'," he said, cheerfully. Mind you, Paige's suggestion that he stay on a more permanant basis, that he rejoined the X-Men was starting to look amazingly appealling. He would be close to his sister again, maybe be able to distract himself from the screw up that was his life in the Danger Room...and the icing on the cake was the distinct lack of Scott Summers.

He immediately felt guilty for that thought. Scott might have been an anally retentive, over-pompous git, but he hadn't deserved death.

"Although I might stick around a bit longer," he added, almost apologetically.

[heather]

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she teased, closing the folder and resting clasped hands on it. Heather had actually been enjoying the school immensely.

There weren't many places that were full of so many diverse people, many of whom had nowhere to go and no-one to turn to. Professor Xavier - who she'd regretfully never met - had done great things for mutants everywhere. Heather could only hope that others would follow his example. Even though the world seemed to be on the right path, there was still a long way to go.

But that wasn't really the topic at hand, was it?

"So... Uh, in what capacity? I mean, do you know anyone from here other than Paige?" A very roundabout and somewhat awkward way of saying, 'Are you one of us? Do you know the X-Men?'

That whole 'What's your power?' thing felt so... high school, to her. Particularly since she didn't actually know if Sam was actually a mutant or not, though she still suspected that the orange car-thing actually running could well have been caused by a mutant.

"Is Lewis part of the same Guthrie family, or is that just a coincidence?" The newest student was already being talked about in the teacher's lounge. He was a little bit of a ruffian, apparently, though Heather hadn't come across him herself just yet.

[Cannonball]

"I studied here a few years back," he said, confirming her unspoken suspicion that he was, obviously, a mutant. "Before the X-Men became pop culture." He ran his fingers through his untidy blond hair and grinned his Sammy-grin at her. This was making him feel better already. It was conversation that was light and easy and nowhere near as intense as the past couple of hours had been.

"Lewie is my youngest siblin', yeah," he confirmed. "Half brother, same momma. He's nine. At twenty-seven, well, I'm the eldest. There's plenty of us Guthries to be goin' around, an' that ain't no exaggeration, ma'am. Twelve of us all told. Paige, Lewie an' me are the only ones to register on the X-gene scale as of yet, but I suspect some of the others might well show up later."

He spoke of his family with an easy pride that spoke of how dearly he loved them and how much he was dedicated to them. "I didn't take Scott Summers' offer to become an X-Man when I left here and went home instead. Got myself a steady job, good money, a...a...wife, all the things that normal people do, y'know?"

[heather]

"Wow, that is a lot." He'd also confirmed her suspicion that he was, in fact, around the same age as her - which made her wonder how many of the others were in between him and Paige.

Ah, and there was the rub. Of course he was married - Heather couldn't imagine someone like Sam staying single for long; he was good looking, nice, obviously dedicated to his family, and no doubt - thanks to all the brothers and sisters - wonderful with children.

"But you're thinking about staying now? There's a certain glamour about the X-Men, isn't there? I'd never join - I'd never be any use, for one - but there is a certain appeal there, especially working in such close contact. I do worry about the school becoming a target, though." It was a worry that she'd never voiced to anyone actually involved with the X-Men before - from what she'd heard, the school had been attacked before, so it seemed as though it could well happen again. At the same time, though, what if someone did attack and there was no-one to help? It was a conundrum.

"How does your wife feel about you staying? I can't imagine that I'd be happy seperated from someone I loved for however long the X-Men needed them. Unless she's going to be joining you here soon?" Her own fingers, twined together and leaning on her folder, were conspicuously unadorned - in fact, the only jewellery Heather wore was a plain oval locket with a picture of her mother inside. Marriage, while appealing in one way, was not exactly on her agenda. It seemed as though every marriage she'd ever watched ended up broken in the end, people forgetting how much they'd loved each other and turning it into hate. No, marriage wasn't a part of her life plan.

[Cannonball]

"But you're thinking about staying now? There's a certain glamour about the X-Men, isn't there? I'd never join - I'd never be any use, for one - but there is a certain appeal there, especially working in such close contact. I do worry about the school becoming a target, though."

"That's part of what's drawin' me into the idea of joinin' up again," he said, honestly. "Now that I got family here, an' when I see the news, hear 'bout the things this 'Brotherhood' bunch are up to, I get the urge to protect. It's a big brother thing, I guess." This was almost entirely true. Increasingly since his arrival, he had been more than a little touched by the number of young children in the Institute. In his day, there had been far less.

"How does your wife feel about you staying? I can't imagine that I'd be happy seperated from someone I loved for however long the X-Men needed them. Unless she's going to be joining you here soon?"

It was his own stupid fault. If he hadn't mentioned her to start with, he wouldn't have had to now explain. His eyes betrayed his emotions, but he attempted to keep a calm face on the proceedings.

"No," he said, "she ain't gonna be joinin' me here. Unfortunately we're - uh - seperated." He ran his hand through his hair again which didn't alleviate the 'dragged through a hedge backwards' look he had going on. "An' I feel I need to say to ya that it's not been easy for me. If it's fine by y'all, least said, soonest mended, yeah?"

[heather]

She was definitely a bad person for the bubble of happiness that arose at Sam's revelation about his wife actually being his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Definitely.

"An' I feel I need to say to ya that it's not been easy for me. If it's fine by y'all, least said, soonest mended, yeah?"

"Absolutely fine." It was tempting to say, 'Least said about what?' and spread her hands as if she had no idea what he was talking about, but somehow Heather felt that it was the kind of thing that one of her students would do, and that she should be above that by now. Even though Sam had all the appearance of a ten-year-old menace who'd just fallen out of a tree.

"So where are you from, Sam?" It seemed like a good place to direct the conversation. Back toward home and family. He certainly didn't seem to have any problems speaking about them.

It was one thing that she'd always wished that her mutation could do. She could imitate his accent, but there was no chance of placing it unless she was familiar with it - sometimes she messed up the big, obvious ones like Russian vs. German. But then, she rarely used her mutation for anything other than telling stories or just a fun diversion, and most of the kids she read to didn't know the difference anyway.

"How many are between you and Paige? I can't imagine having such a big family - only child here, though I did sometimes wish for another one or two to keep me company."

[Cannonball]

"Me? From down Kentucky way," he said, happy to talk about his home. "Cumberland to be precise, leastways that's where the family are. Myself and Brenda moved somewhere halfway 'tween there and Atlanta where her folks are." He began to relax a little, relieved that here was a topic he could wax lyrical about.

He chattered a little about the big, sprawling, untidy four bedroom house that was his family home, describing it in remarkable detail. He told her how the twelve Guthrie siblings doubled up and were squeezed into spots where other people probably would never have thought of putting beds.

"Daddy an' me boarded out the attic and turned that into a bedroom for him and Momma," he said. "I had one of the rooms to myself for eight years 'til Paige came along. Then it was one a year on average, 'though the twins sorta made up the numbers."

His tongue had been loosened now and it felt good. He told her briefly about the mining accident that had killed his father and seen the manifestation of his mutant powers. He told her how he'd been contacted by Charles Xavier and been brought to the Institute, how he'd learned to - mostly - control his abilities and how he had taken the decision to return home rather than stay.

"Guess everythin' comes full circle in the end," he said, eventually drawing to a close. "How 'bout yaself, Heather? What brought ya here?"

[heather]

There was nothing feigned about the expression of interest Heather was wearing as she listened to Sam speak about his life. That he'd open up so much to a complete stranger said a lot about how lovely and friendly he was, and she wondered what kind of woman would let a man like him get away.

"How 'bout yaself, Heather? What brought ya here?"

Well, Sam had told her all about himself, so it was only fair for her to return the favour. When she spoke again, there was a distinctly different accent to her voice, though the sound of it was still the same.

"Teaching, actually. Although I would have loved to have come to school here. My powers have never been dangerous or uncontrollable, though - just unusual. I'm an imitator. Vocal imitator." She smiled, saying, "How 'bout yaself, Heather?" in Sam's voice before going back to her own. "See?"

"Not exactly the kind of thing that would make me stand out to Xavier. Although I did move to New York not long after my mutation surfaced, oddly enough." She told him about her mother's death, and how she'd moved to the United States to live with her father, about traveling around the world while she sorted out what she wanted to do with her life and about finally deciding to teach.

"This is the first full time teaching job I've been able to get. Even with all of the equal rights laws, I've had problems with people who have wanted me to dye my hair to be a better role model, or just plain haven't liked me because of what I am." She'd been slowly slipping back into the accent that she normally used, simply because it made her less remarkable in people's minds. Not that she necessarily wanted to be forgettable, but... Well, she stood out enough already, didn't she?

"I love it here, the kids I've got are just great and I really beleive in what the school is doing."