Title: Virgin Soldiers
Author: Pat Phillips
Summary: Sam Guthrie meets a special girl.
Rating/warning & pairing/characters:
Rated R, Sam/?
I do not own these characters. Instead,
they are the property of Marvel Comics.
As a firm believer in property rights,
it's only reasonable that I specify that
my use of these characters should in no
way be interpreted as a threat to Marvel's
ownership of them.
All of my fan fiction, including this story,
is a not-for-profit venture. After all, when
you get down to it, who would pay for this
This story is set in the movieverse sometime
after the first X-Men movie. Sam Guthrie
isn't in X1 or X2. But, hey, fan fiction is
all about wish fulfillment. For the purposes
of this story, I'm assuming that he's one
of the older students in the Professor
If you don't know him Sam, he's from the
coal-mining part of Kentucky. He has the
power to fly forward, propelled by a
difficult-to-control burst of energy.
Fortunately, he projects a force field when
He originally appeared as part of a team
called the New Mutants. He eventually made
the cut to the X-Men. I lost track of the
X-comics a long time ago, and I have no
idea what has become of him since.
My connecting flight home was cancelled at O'Hare Airport.
The airline was nice about the whole thing. They were going to put
me up at a hotel, since the next flight wasn't until the next day.
I stood there fuming, my bag over my shoulder, not really wanting to
put up with this. I had to call home and tell everyone I would be
late. I had to find a way to the hotel.
Then I met an angel.
"Hi! Are you stuck too?" she said. She was my age, with long
blonde hair, blue eyes, and a ready smile. Her body was the kind
that you have to force yourself to be polite and not to stare at.
And it was well displayed in shorts, sandals, and a halter top.
"Yeah. Heck of a thing, huh?"
OK, not a great first line. But a definite improvement over how I
would have responded just a year back. Months of close confinement
with pretty girls at Professor Xavier's school had left me less
tongue-tied than I once was.
"Look," she said. "I'm on a budget and I've got to get to the
hotel. Do you suppose you could split the cab-fare with me?"
"Sure. My name's Sam. Sam Guthrie."
"Great! I'm Sarah."
And she was great. If I let the conversation lag, Sarah stepped
in. She had interesting things to say, and gave me a chance to talk
about my interests as well as hers. Somehow or other, the fact that
it was my birthday came up. Sarah congratulated me warmly and
offered to buy me dinner -- as long as it wasn't too expensive. How
the heck could I possibly refuse?
At the hotel, she attracted the eye of every guy in the lobby. I
could see at least one guy looking me over with a "what the heck
does she see in him?" expression.
Tough luck, pal. Lightning had struck.
We made a date for dinner. I was to meet her in the lobby at six.
I was there at five, and was pacing the floor by five-fifteen.
Sarah showed up on time, wearing a short, black, backless dress that
caused a distracted bellhop to accidentally ram an old lady with a
She treated me to hot dogs from a corner stand.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I know it's not much for your birthday," she said.
"Trust me when I say this, Sarah. Thanks to the company, it's the
best meal I've ever had."
We saw the sights, walking for hours and talking about ourselves and
each other. I told her as much about my last year as I could. She
was from California and was looking forward to starting college.
She and I read a lot of the same books, saw a lot of the same
movies, and listened to a lot of the same music.
I had never, never, never met a girl who was a better match for me.
Night fell. We sat on the edge of fountain, still talking.
Eventually, we kissed. It was gentle and seemed to come from
nowhere. I can't really say who started it.
We walked back to the hotel hand-in-hand.
We ended up in her room.
We kissed again as soon as the door closed.
I asked her if she wanted me to leave.
She shook her head and we held each other tight for a long moment.
Some music. Laughing, she taught me a few dance steps and was so
kind about my awkwardness.
Then the dress was at her feet, like a pool of black satin.
I cupped her beautiful face in my hands and kissed her again.
"Sarah," I began, suddenly awkward.
"I've never..." embarrassed, I couldn't quite finish the words.
"Hush. That's OK, Sam." She kissed me again.
"But..." I began.
A finger touched my lips, silencing me. A gentle smile.
"It's fine, Sam. Don't worry. We'll make it right."
Sometime after midnight, I eased myself out of Sarah's bed. She was
breathing gently. For a long moment, I just stood by the bed,
looking at her. She was a dream, a fantasy, a mystery.
We had made love three times in a space of four hours. She had
patiently and carefully taught me. She was my first lover. No
matter what, even if she were to utterly vanish right then, a part
of her would be with me forever.
In the bathroom, I washed my face and hands. For a long moment I
stared in the mirror. Nothing new looked back at me. And yet...
It was funny how everything was the same and yet everything was
I should get out. Leave right now. Run.
But there was something I had to set right. Somebody I had to make
sure was safe.
Back in the bedroom, I pulled on my jeans. Then I snagged a chair
and put it next to the bed. I sat in the chair for a long moment,
I cupped the side of her face with my right hand. She opened her
eyes and smiled at me.
I ran my hand done the side of her face.
Eyes closed, she purred at my touch.
Then I took hold of her neck and squeezed.
Her eyes jerked open.
"Make a move and I'll break your neck," I hissed.
"Sam. Please," she gasped, tears in her eyes.
"Cut it out. You screwed up, sugar. I know who you are."
Her face went impassive and her eyes narrowed.
She changed. Sarah was gone, but then again she had never really
Mystique lay in the bed. Six foot plus of rangy, lethal muscle.
Blue skin and the occasional fine pattern of scales. Dark red hair
and yellow eyes. The eyes had betrayed her.
She tensed to try something.
I'm faster than a lot of folks think. Before she could strike, I
squeezed her neck again. Hard.
"You know what I can do, Mystique. Can you take me out before I
blast through the wall? Remember, it's twenty stories straight
down," I asked.
She relaxed her body -- good girl. I relaxed my grip a little.
"Well, Sam," she growled. "You're riding the tiger. What do you
plan on doing now?"
"Tell me about Sarah. Where is she?" I demanded.
She answered carefully, "Her name isn't Sarah. In fact, I'm not
sure what her name is. She's the youngest daughter of the French
ambassador to the United Nations. I met her five years back. The
form I showed you is a bit dated. I use it whenever I need the form
of a young and beautiful teenager. I didn't hurt her in any way --
I just copied her form."
I hoped that was true, "What do you want with me?"
I tightened my grip. In an open, honest fight, she would almost
certainly take me apart. But this close, under these conditions,
the odds favored me.
She gasped, her eyes feral and angry. I tightened my grip another
notch. Suddenly her eyes were frightened.
"If. I. Wanted. You. Dead. You'd. Be. Dead." she gasped.
I loosened my grip a little.
"So what do you want?" I asked.
It took her a while before she could respond.
"Like I said, nothing," she finally said, "I was in O'Hare. It's a
big place and a lot of people go through that airport. People meet
people they know at airports all the time. I saw you and I
recognized you from our file on Xavier's students."
I cocked my head to one side, "And?"
Her eyes met mine, "And I thought I would like a nice young piece of
ass. That fact that it was one of Xavier's brats seemed to add a
"Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Sam. It's the dumber things in life that are often true."
I had no way to prove if what she was saying was true or false. And
I would either have to kill her or let go of her. And it was
Letting go, I quickly stepped out of the chair and away.
If she went for me, the plan was to run rather than fight. I would
go for the window. I'm still a pretty poor flyer. But my force-
field would protect me.
She lay back in the bed, working kinks out of her neck and watching
me with narrowed eyes.
Picking up the rest of my clothes, I began getting dressed.
"Sam," she said quietly.
I looked at her.
"I'm coming back from a job. I'm off-duty. Really, there's nothing
to be frightened about."
"You hurt Marie. She's a friend of mine."
"I'm a soldier. This is a war. Shit happens."
She cocked her head at me and smiled, "Sam, is that any way to speak
to the first woman you ever made love to?"
I froze. Then I said, "I still haven't made love to a woman.
Tonight, all I was did hump a blue lizard."
Her face went impassive, a slight smile on her lips. She shrugged
and glanced away.
I knew that look -- after all, I've got a lot of brothers and
sisters. I'd hurt her inside. Badly.
At the door to her room, I had every reason to feel like I'd somehow
won. I'd screwed her just as much as she screwed me. And I'd hurt
her in the war of words. And she was somebody that it was probably
very hard to hurt. Of course, that meant I had better get the hell
out of there. Mystique was pretty dangerous.
But for a long second, I stood at the door. Unsure of what I had
won. Unsure of just what was right and wrong. I remembered her
showing me how to dance. I remembered her showing me how to make
love. She had been very gentle. She had taken the time to show me
what to do, and how to do it.
It was crazy. I knew it was crazy. But I couldn't leave with those
words, those terribly hard words, behind me. I turned back.
She was lying in the bed, the sheets down around her hips. She had
a cigarette in her hand and was fishing around in a purse for a
She seemed surprised.
"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry," I said.
"Get lost, I'm done with you," she said emotionlessly as she kept
looking for a light.
"Gee, Mystique, is that any way to talk to your latest lover?"
"You're lousy in bed."
"Yeah? But at least I'm me in bed."
There was a pack of matches on the table. I tossed them to her.
She barely caught them in time -- her timing seemed a bit off. Then
she lit the cigarette.
We looked at one another for a long moment.
"My name is Raven," she said.
I just looked at her.
"Raven Darkholme," she finished, taking another puff.
I leaned against a wall, "What it's like to work for Magneto?"
"Remember when I said I was a soldier? He's a general. Xavier is a
general too. Remember that, Sam. Because every general has to
"Every thought of getting out of the war?"
She laughed, put the cigarette in her mouth, and got up out of bed.
Then she turned slowly. Letting me get a good look. I could even
see the scars on her stomach that Mr. Logan had given her. When she
was done she took the cigarette out of her mouth.
"How the hell do I get out of the war?" she asked bitterly.
I shrugged, "Be someone else for the rest of your life."
"That's not as easy as it sounds. And I shouldn't have to do that.
Nobody should have to hide in order to live."
I nodded, "Yeah. You're right."
"How about you, Sam? Ever think of getting out?"
"I'll graduate from Professor Xavier's school soon."
She sat back down on the bed, "That simple?"
I sighed, "Probably not."
She got back under the covers.
"Sam. I'm sorry about what I said."
"About you being bad in bed. It's not true. And I know that's a
terrible thing to say to a young man. Hell, it's a bad thing to say
"Apology accepted. But I wasn't really buying what you said
anyway. You lose control of your eye-color when you have an
orgasm. That's how I figured out who you really were."
She looked a bit disgusted, then stubbed out her cigarette, "I'll
have to work on that. Care to help?"
I walked over to her bed. She wasn't looking at me. She was
looking just off to one side, at an empty patch of wall. Then I
knew that she was scared. Scared that I'd say something ugly.
Scared of the contempt and disgust she might hear in my voice as I
said no. Magneto's perfect killer was frightened of a boy's words.
"Raven..." I said.
"Nothing. I just like the name. It's cool. Sam is pretty
"Are you getting into bed or not?"
I pulled my clothes off. Then I slid in next to her.
She turned on her side, looking at me again.
"Do you want me to be Sarah again? She's very beautiful."
I shook my head. That didn't seem right somehow.
"Any fantasies I can help you with? How about Dr. Grey? Or Ororo?
Or Marie? Or maybe you have a favorite actress or model? I have a
I touched her face. The scales by her eyes were fine and light.
Warm. She covered my hand with hers, pressing my palm against the
side of her face hard. Very hard. She closed her eyes, enjoying
"When's the last time you were yourself?" I asked.
She hesitated, "Men don't like that."
"You didn't answer, Raven. When's the last time you were yourself
when you made love?"
"A long time ago, Sam. A very long time."
"How long?" She was having a problem saying it.
"Never. Never, Sam. Nobody wants to hump a blue lizard."
I closed my eyes for a second in a long wince. Then I opened them
"Raven, please let me be the first man to make love to you."
Her eyes opened. Yellow. Feral. Alien. Deeply beautiful.
"I never thought of it that way," she said softly.
Then, she was suddenly practical, "Sam, I'm taller than you. It'll
be awkward. Are you sure..."
I put a finger on her lips.
"We'll make it right, Raven."
She nodded. I moved my hand down to her breast. She pressed her
lips against mine.