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Breakfast was always a bit chaotic around the Institute — a whole mess of students of all ages coming in at varying points in time, eating their way through whatever growth-spurt-of-the-week is happening, then rushing off to fun things or (sometimes) classes. But most of that chaos has died down without Moira getting a chance to actually sit and talk with the young man who is new enough to the school that she doesn't know him well, but she's seen enough to know last weekend is probably hitting hard. So, in hopes she might catch him in, Moira makes her way down the hall to where she was directed his room might be. It's easy to hear her coming, the quiet pattern of her crutch on the floor, keeping her left leg steady without so much weight. She pauses outside his door and gives a quiet knock. "Mr. Guthrie…? It's… Moira. One of the teachers here…"
*
The door to the dorm room is slightly ajar, the sound of clicking hangers just audible from the hallway. A couple of seconds after Moira makes her presence known, Sam leans out with a curious expression. The teenager is holding a hanger draped with what appears to be an imitation sailor's outfit; "Harry's Hideaway" is embroidered on the left side of the shirt front. Guthrie recognizes Moira, of course; he has seen her around the school from time to time, usually in the Professor's presence, although they've never had a proper conversation.
"Oh, c'mon in, Miss Moira," he says politely, pulling the door open to reveal a room so sparsely decorated that it's easy to mistake for a vacant space at first glance. "Ah ain't really set up for guests, but you can sit wherever you like," the teenager drawls apologetically. There's one desk chair and a bed, so MacTaggert isn't exactly spoiled for choice. For his part, Sam hangs his restaurant uniform on the doorknob, glances around, and wrings his hands, eyebrows peaking in the middle. "Is this about classes? Ah know Ah ain't properly enrolled for fall yet…"
*
The older woman (well, older as in over thirty, but that is old around here) steps past the door with a warmer, slightly curious smile, especially as she sees the restaurant uniform. She gives a slightly approving nod that she probably doesn't even realize she's doing before she steps the rest of the way in and over to the desk chair — it's higher up so it's easier to get up and down from with a bum leg. She's in a light dress today — a pale peach trimmed with lace and a fitted waist. It's something made for summer more than it is for teaching, but classes aren't exactly in session. "You can just call me Moira, if you like, especially while classes aren't in. I'm sorry we didn't actually get to properly meet yet, Sam… and no, this isn't about classes. You've got plenty of time before the fall. Honestly…" She tilts her head, trying to catch his eyes for a moment, study his younger features a bit closer. With questions like this, it's as much body language and facial reactions as the words that are said which can tell her things, "I…wanted to check in on you. With… Everything."
*
For a second, the muscle tension leaves Guthrie's shoulders; he seems distinctly relieved that Moira hasn't sought him out to discuss academics. Then, slowly, her implication sinks in: Sam's head droops and his shoulders sag as he mournfully recalls the team's failure to save the Lewistons. "Oh, right. Ah guess that makes sense," he answers, staring at his hands. After a second, he leans back against the wall opposite Moira. "Ah wish Ah had somethin' to tell ya. Ah tried my best to find the… the shooters," he says, grimacing at the word. "But all Ah really managed to do was find my way into the buildin' and then lead those poor folks right into a trap."
*
"Sit down, Sam… relax. I'm not here to… force you to replay it all. Truthfully, we don't have to discuss it in the least, if you don't want. I'm curious about you… your family, how you ended up here… I'm happy just to talk. But, with everything that happened, having somewhere you can talk, cry, scream… Do whatever you need, maybe you want that? I don't know. I cannot pretend to know you yet. I hope I can change that." Moira gives him a faint smile, though the look in her face is still distinctly worried. Still relatively young, as adults go, Moira has a clearly motherly tint about her. She'll never be his mom, but that's the concerned, protective look behind her pale eyes.
*
Sam doesn't move from his spot against the wall. "Naw, it's fine, we can talk about it," he reassures the teacher, mostly failing to put a brave face on his sadness. "Ah ain't gonna blubber about it. Be a real embarrassment to have me weepin' when Jimmy's bein' so tough about it." He shrugs and wraps his arms around himself, saying candidly, "Ah just wish we'd've done better. Ah want to make sure that next time, we don't screw it up. If you'll pardon my french." A wisp of guilt crosses his face at the mildly off-color language. Pretty sheltered, this one.
Brightening just barely, he continues, "Ain't much interestin' to tell you about myself. Grew up on a farm, big family, lots of brothers 'n sisters. Lost my Pa last year, went to work, found out Ah was a mutant and now Ah'm here." He shrugs at the summary, then smiles. "Ah think life's about to get a lot more eventful now that Ah'm here, though."
*
As Sam wraps his arms around himself that way, Moira can't stay sitting. She pushes herself up into standing, not bothering with the crutch but using the edge of the desk to steady herself enough that she can step around to standing in front of him. Then both her hands come up, resting on the outside of his arms. He might be taller and a fair bit more solid as a person than she is, but she can still hold him in support. Her fingertips are a warm, comforting pressure against his arms, her thumbs tracing little, reassuring lines. "You're allowed to…blubber, or cry, or do whatever you need, Sam. You can feel your feelings, no matter how Jimmy is feeling. Chances are he's going through it too, he just doesn't want to show anything to his new friends because being somewhere new is scary enough. But… what happened was awful. You're allowed to feel that. And yes, you will get better. All of you. You're going to train and work together, know each other better, and you'll be better able to handle it. That… that doesn't mean that awful things aren't going to happen in the future either."
As he goes on about his family, her smile softens a little bit, but she doesn't quite release him yet. If he needs a hug, she's right there, offering, warm and close. "…Eventful, yes, but life is about to get a lot harder too. For all of us. We can't go in ignoring that, or trying to handle it alone… You still have a big family. It… it's just bigger now, you know that?"
*
Sam's manly facade weakens in the face of Moira's tenderness. He's avoiding eye contact, but his eyes have started to glisten. "Ah just … It's hard, because…" The teenager takes a deep breath, shoulders shaking. "Pa died in a cave-in," Sam admits slowly. "Weren't nothin' anyone could do about it." His face tightens, and he finally glances at Moira. "Not then, anyway."
The teacher might recall from the news stories that spurred Xavier's interest in the boy that Sam's powers first manifested in a mine collapse, allowing him to escape and rescue another miner. "When Ah got my powers, my Ma told me it was the Lord — that He was givin' me a gift Ah could use to save people from what we went through." Another long, shuddering breath. "But now Jimmy's goin' through it, even worse'n Ah did, because Ah didn't … because Ah wasn't …" He looks at Moira helplessly, words failing him.
*
The moment Moira catches sight of that glistening at the edge of his eyes, she doesn't hesitate any more. He can pull away, of course, but she tugs him tighter against her and wraps her long, slender arms tight around his tall back in a firm, fully heartfelt hug. This isn't some awkward, hesitant thing, but something with a ton of muscle and love behind it, even from her beanpole frame. If he curls into her, she turns her head to press a gentle kiss into his hair. She even smells like a mom, fresh laundry and a touch of vanilla about her, nothing else. "Goodness, Sam… I'm… so sorry…" She breathes gently into his hair, letting him lean into her as much as he needs.
"…It wasn't YOUR job to save people, and YOU didn't draw that crowd there. You didn't make people react poorly. You got a young man out of a very dangerous situation. You did save a life. And yes, it's… there aren't words for how awful it is. But this isn't on you. This is on those people who chose hate instead of love. And yes, Jimmy is going through it… much like you. He's going to need you… just like I'm sure your siblings needed you after it happened."
*
Far from resisting the embrace, Sam returns it wholeheartedly, a surprising amount of strength in his lanky arms. The boy was raised with lots of affection, and he appreciates it now. After a deep sniffle, head against Moira's shoulder, he answers, "You're right, Miss Moira. Jimmy needs to hear people know what he's goin' through. It sure ain't gonna be easy for him." His grip tightens for a second. "Ah just wish — Ah wish it didn't have to be me, who was right there when it happened."
His arms loosen and he shakes his head. "It's not that Ah blame myself, exactly. Ah know Ah didn't pull that trigger, and Ah had no way of knowin' anyone meant 'em that kinda harm." A pause, then Sam is pulling away from Moira. "But still, if Ah'd been smart? If Ah'd been thinkin', 'we gotta get out fast, we gotta keep 'em safe,' Ah wouldn't have just walked out there like a dummy."
He purses his lips. "Ah should've been blastin', carryin' 'em out to Lockjaw one at a time," Sam explains. "Never mind how hard it'd be to hit someone movin' as fast as Ah do — far as Ah can tell, Ah'm invulnerable when Ah blast. Those bullets would've bounced right off, and Jimmy would still have his parents." He winces, breath hissing between his teeth. "It ain't my fault, exactly — but Ah could've prevented it. Ah should've prevented it. And all Ah can do is promise myself to be better next time."
*
"Samuel." Moira's voice is a bit more steady and strong as she uses his full name. That's mom voice. Not the trouble mom voice, but the tone of this is serious and he needs to listen up. She allow him to pull back just enough that they can look at each other, but she's not letting him go quite yet. She just stares up into his reddened, damp eyes, making certain she has his full attention before she starts speaking again.
"…Just because YOU might not have been shot, doesn't mean others might not have been hurt. That crowd was looking for blood long before we got there. Yes, things might have gone different. Maybe we could have gotten them out. *Maybe*, but you don't know that, and maybe other people would have been more hurt. Other students, who can't move as fast as you. Jimmy himself. None of us can ever know the what ifs, so damning yourself over them does nothing but make already awful things harder. You have NO blame in this. You learn to work together better with your fellows. You help Jimmy. You love everyone around you as long as you can because that's all we *can* do… and everything I've seen of you as a person tells me you are amazingly capable of doing all those things. Goodness, probably more capable than many around here. They need you to show them how to do that. There… there's so much hate and fear out there, Sam. Don't hold onto it. Show them how to love… "
*
Chastened, Sam nods his head slowly. He knows better than to argue with that voice, even when used in a nurturing way. "Okay, Miss Moira. Ah'll do my best," he answers, managing a weak smile. "You're real nice to say all that, but Ah just hope Ah can live up to all the faith folks like you and the Professor have put into me. Ah know Ah've got a lot to learn. Ah guess maybe what Ah didn't realize is, it's not just about superpowers. It's about thinkin' fast, bein' responsible." He gives the woman a more heartfelt smile, lopsided though it might be. "And it's about heart, too. You've done me good today, Miss." He wipes at his face with the back of his arm, then adds with sudden self-consciousness, "Just… don't tell the other boys Ah got … y'know. This carried away." Got to protect that fragile masculinity.
*
One of her hands finally comes free, resting against his chest a moment, over his heart, and earnestly softer smile crossing her lips. "We have faith because we know what IS in that heart of yours. And it's really all about that. The other things can be learned. That's why you're here. That's why there are training and classes. We can't teach heart, though… That's got to be there from the start." And then she's laughing, as he pulls away and begins to wipe at his face. She finally lets him go, though she'll need to lean against the desk again to keep steady. "I promise… not a word. And if you need to, 'y'know'… get carried away again, you can always knock on my door, alright? I'm not going anywhere."
*
"Ah do appreciate that, Miss Moira," Sam answers with sincerity. It's not unlikely that he'll be taking her up on that offer — between the regional culture shock, his new kid status, and his tendency to put his foot in his mouth, he doesn't have a lot of outlets to be vulnerable since he came to Xavier's.
Suddenly, the teenager laughs. "Although you might not want to promise me too much moral support until you see how Ah do in your classes," he tells her sheepishly. "Ah dunno what you teach, but Ah'm more'n a little behind on school stuff since Ah dropped out. I'm liable to be more of a headache than you bargained for, teachin' in a fancy prep school like this one."
*
"… Well, then, we just make a deal — Conversations like this never involve school work. If you want to talk about more… Emotional things, we leave that work at the door. So you know this will always be safe and I won't be worried about what you're doing in my classes." Moira gives him a gently reassuring smile as she finally claims her crutch back, leaning against it to be a touch more comfortable, but not moving to leave. She just needed the steadiness. Which is a bit odd, because her leg doesn't actually look wrapped or in any sort of cast. There are long, fading scars along the skin, but no actual visible injury now.
"As *for* classes, I… I'm not exactly certain what I'll be teaching either. I'm a geneticist… I'm generally teaching post graduate students. So, this will be a learning experience for all of us. But after everything with Char-… the professor… Well, I knew I wanted to come back here. I'm just glad he invited me back to work. I… I really care about this place, you know? And all of you." That is not a lie. Human or not, this feels like Moira's family too. Now that she remembers again, at least.
*
Sam's jaw drops. A teacher, promising him a space where he won't be pressed about his performance in her classes? There are a lot of things about the Xavier Institute that seem too good to be true, but this — this is the most wonderful surprise of all, as far as he's concerned. He closes his mouth and nods, answering, "It's a deal, ma'am."
Her history with the school is a closed book to Sam, as it is to most of the students, so he innocently says, "Y'know, Ah've never thought to ask how long this place has been around. Guess Ah sorta assumed it started about as long ago as Ah first heard of mutants, but if you had time to leave, work somewhere else, 'n come back, maybe it's older'n Ah thought."
He cocks his head to one side and looks at the crutch she's leaning on, probably oblivious to just how obviously he's searching for a way to politely ask her about the injury.
*
The hardest thing about establishing this deep, level kind of trust with a student is then, when they ask the hard questions, not really being willing to tell the white lies that make life easier. The best way to lose the trust of a teenager is to lie to the when you promised to be trustable. So, first, she nods in responds to the deal, "Good. Deal." That makes her happy, especially as his face lights up. She does seem dead serious about it.
But then he's looking at her leg and it's painfully obvious where his mind is. She still dances around how to answer it, a slow breath escaping her nose. So, she settles on responding about the school instead. "…A few years. When Charles and Erik were first putting things together… I knew them both, but things happened and… I had to go away for a while. Just got … Reaquianted again about a month ago. It's good to be back." Those aren't lies, but Sam may or may not be smart enough to realize just how muc she's leaving out of the matter. "Part of going away… I got hurt by a very… awful person. He's dead now. But… they can't ever put my leg back together fully the way it was. So…" She shrugs. Also so much omitted, but all she's spoken is the truth.
*
Sam would be the first to admit he's not the sharpest tool in the proverbial shed. (In fact, he has been known to forcefully insist as much in the face of others' objections.) He does have moments of perceptiveness, though, and judging by the knowing sympathy in his blue eyes, Moira's reticence hasn't gone unnoticed. Still, if there's anything he understands, it's the need to occasionally rope off sections of your life as Not Up For Discussion.
"Well, Ah'm sure they're both as happy to have you back as Ah am to know you're here," he tells her, aw-shucks farm boy sincerity at full strength. "Especially with you gettin' hurt, and all. Can't imagine who'd wanna do you harm, but there's some ugliness in this world and no mistake. It takes real courage to come back after a terrible thing like that. You ain't even a mutant, neither, are you?"
The teenager suddenly blanches, freckles standing out even more than usual. "Wait. Am Ah bein' rude to ask that? Ah don't really know what the proper manners are with the whole human/mutant thing…"
*
A gentle shake is given of her head, "No, I'm not a mutant, and I think in these walls it's alright. It might be more difficult outside, where people are… less understanding, but my entire goal here AND outside is to make this an accepted, comfortable topic about life. Not some terrifying, new thing. If we can promot understanding, well… that will do a lot to fight the fear. The unknown is far more terrifying than things you can put a face and a name to. So… ask. But no, I'm not a mutant. Just… unlucky and trusting." That comment says more than a thousand other words about the matter and, for a heartbeat, he might see that flicker of pain and bittersweetness behind her eyes. "It's over now."
Her eyes then take a moment to flicker around his still rather bare room, "But, goodness… am I keeping you from unpacking? Or do you need a few more things around here? Armando and I just moved out of the apartment where we were living… I am certain we could bring you some of the things we don't need any more?"
*
Sam's brows knit with concern at 'unlucky and trusting.' Still, he lets Moira steer the conversation away from the topic, glancing around the spare furnishings and going a little pink in the cheeks. "Aww, well, that ain't necessary," he says, shifting his weight in a fidgety way and running his hands down his sides. "All Ah brought up here was what Ah could fit in my rucksack." He nods toward a deflated-looking bag propped up against the closet doorframe. It sounds a little pitiful, so he tries to deflect with a joke: "Helps to travel light when you gotta carry everything the whole way yourself."
As for her offer of more furnishings, he hesitates, answering, "Welllll… if y'all got a few bits of furniture y'don't know what to do with, Ah would be much obliged to borrow 'em. But Ah'm workin' down in Salem Center!" He glances at the sailor outfit. "They got me workin' in the restaurant some evenings, and the tack store on the weekends. Ah'm makin' enough that Ah'll be able to send a little bit home from time to time."
This might strike Moira as a bit of an understatement. Apart from the backpack, a couple of outfits, and his work uniforms, the boy's only possessions seem to be school-issued clothing and the furnishings that come with the dorm. If Sam has been keeping any money to spend on himself, it's not clear what he has been spending it on.
*
A slight line crosses her lips and she arches a brow, looking more thoroughly around the place. "Truthfully, Sam, it'd be nice to know that things are going to use. Armando might even have some old clothing he's grown out of which would be a good fit for you." Since Darwin is one of the only people around taller than Sam! "I'll just send a truck to the storage unit. Better than the things sitting around and collecting dust. It'd make me happy to see you have it." This isn't charity, her smile seems quite genuine about that. "But… the job is good too. I'm certain that uniform looks quite nice on you. You'll have to be batting off the ladies soon." She gives him a little, teasing wink and a wider grin. It's one of those mom winks that always makes even THINKING about flirting so awkward!
*
Someday, Sam is going to learn to take this kind of teasing in stride: smile and shake his head and play it off coolly.
But it is not this day.
The southerner goes beet red, wrings his hands, and stammers, "Well, Ah — Ah don't know about — Ah'm tryin' to —"
His eyes widen as he spots a safe harbor from questions about girls and says in a flood, "They got this whole nautical theme and Ah told 'em Ah ain't never even been on a boat bigger'n a canoe before — first time Ah saw the ocean was when Ah made a stop on my way up from Kentucky, although Ah didn't tell 'em that on account of havin' to explain the whole mutant rocket thing — and they said it was fine, but Ah'm worried someone's gonna mistake me for a real sailor and get all disappointed when she finds out."
He winces. Somehow, he managed to loop the conversation around back to girls. If only he could turn that sharply in flight…
*
Moira's eyes shoot a bit wide as she realizes *just* how embarrassed he's getting. She's never seen a teenage boy turn that red. She's about to cut in and try to stop him, but it seems that he's found some sort of refuge in talking about the restaurant. So she smiles and listens, giving a gentle nod, trying not to laugh, until he spins back around straight into talking about women and even saintly Moira cannot help but allow a little laugh to escape her lips.
"Oh…Sam, darling. It's a restaurant. They know why they are there and if some girl doesn't get it, well… You don't want to bring that girl home anyway. Just do a good job at work, as I know you will, and everything else will fall into place." She reaches one hand up to rest on his arm, giving one last squeeze with a smile. "Now… I should check on lunch for everyone. Don't forget to eat. We'll get the truck and head to the storage unit this weekend, alright?"
*
Still blushing, Sam Guthrie straightens up, salvages every shred of dignity he possesses, and answers with the sort of gravity only a teenage boy can bring to bear on the utterly trivial, "Ma'am, if you ever need to remind Sam Guthrie to eat, y'might as well call the county coroner because Ah'll be knockin' on death's own door." He gives her a serious nod and says, "Ah'll be there this weekend, and thank you kindly."
*
That's enough to make her genuinely laugh, a warm smile which helps her appear rather younger than she normally is, dancing across her features. "I'll remember that, Sam. Now clean up for lunch. We wouldn't dare want you to be late." She gives him a conspiratorial little wink, as if she knows his secret now, and then limps her way quietly back out of his room, both of them definitely having felt better for the talk.