Doctor, Doctor, gimme the news... {Gregory}

A warm ocean breeze was playing its way through the sheer curtains lining the windows in Quincy's home. She felt the tickle of the air roll over her cheek, the first rays of sunlight finding their way into her bedroom and slowly waking her. She also felt the warm embrace of her husband next to her, comfortable and stable. A small sigh escaped her lips as she began to rise from the bed, knowing her day was in need of starting. She was easily pulled back into the soft mattress by a firm hand, though, and turned to see Charlie smiling up at her, pleading her to stall her leaving for just a while longer.

An hour later Quincy was running late. She had finally escaped Charlie's playful clutches with a stern, “You know some people are doctors and can't lay around in bed all day!” and a laugh, effectively leaving him with no retort to keep her there with him. She was now going to be late if she didn't rush to get ready. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, her wet hair dripping to the floor, Quincy took a deep breath and gently closed her eyes. She let her mind relax, forgetting the time, forgetting her stress, and just let herself feel the movement of time around her. She had, at an early age, noticed that the world around her operated in flows of time that not everyone was aware of. What others perceived as constant and immutable, something that no force had the power to alter, she knew was fluid and alive in its own way. She could feel the flow of time in her mind and with a gentle pluck and snag here, or a rip there, she could bend it to her will. She did so now, slowing the world around her to a crawl. When her eyes opened again she glanced at the watch that was ever present on her wrist: the second hand was nearly frozen, and only when she had been looking at it for some time did it halt forward.

The extra time was used to finish readying herself for the day, to make sure when she looked in the mirror her smiling brown eyes were bright and awake. Once more she closed her eyes and let the world slip back into its natural place around her. Back in the bedroom she gave the dog laying on the bed, a young border collie, a rub before grabbing her purse from the nightstand. She looked down at her husband and felt the warmth of her life sweep over her. “Don't forget to take Rocky for a run later, ok?” She called to him as she left the room and received a muffled “Mhmm, 'later Quinnie,” in response from his already drifting back to sleep form. With a final check of the house, making sure everything was in its place, Quincy made her way to her car and drove off to the Hayes Family Medical Clinic, where she was now a full time doctor working alongside her father and others – a dream she had always yearned for finally realized.

She stopped before the entrance, the little machine at waist height transmitting data to the electric doors buzzing slightly in the morning air. It was second nature for her to place her thin wrist under the bright green light that scanned the series of chips and pulses in the bracelet that she wore at all times, and she did so with confidence, knowing that her entrance would never be denied. It took a mere fraction of a second for the light to change from green to blue and the doors in front of her to push themselves open, allowing her to step the final few paces into the office. The reader in front of her office was not a surprising feature; in fact, most every facility in the area had one. It was just a precaution, really. The clinic would allow mutants in if their bracelet flagged them as one – it would be cruel to refuse medical care just because one was different – but it did give the staff a warning just in case they became dangerous or uncooperative. Each visitors information was transmitted to the office's computers, stored away for reference when they checked in and were being examined. It was an efficient way to run the clinic, and Quincy for one was glad for the extra information she received from the scanners on her patients. She never worried that she would set off the mutant red flag when she walked in: there was nothing in her bracelet, nor her blood, that identified her as one. To the office, to everyone, she was just another fresh face in the normal crowd.

“Good morning Dr. Hayes!” A young girl, probably just out of high school, called over from the receptionist desk as Quincy made her way through the waiting room. She smiled over at her and continued walking, “Good morning, Beth. Did you have a nice weekend? Oh and if you have those insurance forms I asked about Friday could you please bring them to me when you get a moment?” Quincy waited for Beth to answer and supplied information about her own weekend before leaving the girl to her work and headed on to her own. When she reached her office she pulled on her white coat and sat down with a contented sigh. Her schedule would be light today; there were only a few scheduled appointments – the other time slots would be filled with walk-ins most likely, but those rarely posed a problem to her. With a quick glance to the picture on her desk of her and Charlie on their wedding day, she refocused her attention to getting ready for her first patient.

The streets of Sausalito were nice and quiet early Monday morning, the usual tourists absent from the small beach-side town. All the same, Greg was dressed as one, wearing his rainbow flip flops and neon green sunglasses. Aside from that, he wore dark navy swim shorts, and a slightly over-sized muscle shirt with stripes to match. Today was one of the rare few where Gregory left home without his Chameleon suit, but he didn't think he'd need it for his meeting at the clinic. As he walked along, he glanced down at his phone to check the time. 7:01 am... there was still plenty of time for his appointment! He immediately spun around on his heels and doubled back to the shop on the corner; an ice cream parlor with a sign advertising more than 72 flavor combinations!

If Greg had a favorite flavor, he would have been out of there in a few minutes, but twenty passed before he finally came out with a scoop of mint ice cream on top of strawberry, on top of chocolate. Just don't ask why an ice cream would be open so early... he did leave money on the counter before he left! Gregory took a mouthful of the first scoop as he headed down the street. About a block later, after finishing off his cone, his cell started ringing and he picked it up with a perky, "Hello?" He grinned as he recognized his handler on the other end, "Oh, hey Sketch, thought you weren't gonna check up on me for this one!" He laughed as she gave a quick retort, all in code of course, "Yeah I'm headed over there now mom, I left my directions at home though."

He waited a few seconds before pulling the phone away from his ear, and a picture of a window looking into a doctor's office popped up on his screen. He put the phone back up to his ear, "Got it.... Uh huh. They're opening late today? Shouldn't be a problem.... Yep. Bye." He hung up, and as he glanced ahead, he could see the clinic at the end of the street. He adjusted his sunglasses as he kept his eyes peeled for any cameras, and as he approached the building, he turned away from the front entrance and headed down the alley and after referencing the pic on his phone again, he stepped up to the second to last window, and tapped on the window. A few seconds passed, before he put his face up to the glass and shielded his eyes from the sun so he could see into Dr. Hayes's office, only to find the Doctor staring back at him. It was all too easy to imagine what it must have looked like from her perspective, some random stranger's nose pressed to her window. He couldn't help but laugh as he waved her over.

Quincy was softy humming a tune to herself as she read through patient files, marking notes when needed and taking sips of coffee as she worked. The morning had barely begun and she was off to a good start; at this pace her paper work would be done early and she could catch a nice lunch out by the beach between appointments later in the day. She was just about to make a call to a patient about some unfortunate test results when a sharp rap on her office window caught her attention. She turned in her chair, eyes spotting the disturbance at once. There, with a big smile on his face, was a young man standing right up to the glass, beckoning her over with a casual wave.

She sat in confusion, able only to stare at the face grinning at her from the window. She had to blink a few times in quick succession, close her eyes and look again. Yes, there was definitely someone standing at her window, looking in. While she had only been working in the clinic for half a year she had spent her childhood playing in the halls and waiting rooms, tagging along after her father as he worked, and in all her time here she had never been interrupted by someone knocking on a window before. This just wasn't the type of neighborhood where that happened. This was a place where she saw regulars for check ups, dealt with the injuries of tourists, and was offered salt water taffy by the post man. It was an odd occurrence to say the least, and for one slight moment it set off Quincy's paranoia and she unconsciously grasped the metal chain around her wrist, thinking for sure today was the day mutant control figured her out and took her away. One more deep breath and a serious look at the man in the window and her heart rate went back to normal; no mutant control officer wore bright green sun glasses and politely knocked on office windows.

Glancing at her office door, she stood up and walked over to the windowsill. Opening the window was against her better judgment, but she was too curious to let it be. Besides, maybe the man was just lost, or playing some sort of prank. She could handle that. With a bit of effort she pressed up on the window until it was open enough for both her and the mans face to be seen without any glass in between them. She could hear the waves in the distance and smell the salt of the air on the breeze and she wondered why she did not open the window more often. Perhaps it was to deter such rendezvous as this; an open window could be too welcoming to those she did not have time for. This intrusion, too, had the potential to cut into her schedule and she would now have to do her best to figure out what was going on without taking too much time away from her work. With a slight smile she looked over the man standing outside of her window, still grinning. “Can I help you?” She asked, careful to stand in the way of the window and block the man's entrance. Her voice was set on Doctor mode: kind and concerned, yet holding authority she had learned to wield comfortably. “There is a front door to this clinic if you need medical attention.”

The puzzled look on the woman's face was absolutely priceless, as she opened the window slightly to greet him. Her polite nudge about using the front door was understandable, but having considered this earlier, Greg decided it was best for both of them if they did it this way. She would understand soon enough, "Actually, Dr. Hayes, I think it would be best if my visit is strictly, ahhhh, off the books." To make his point, Greg held up his hands to show the absence of any identification bands. He thought it was enough to get his point across without showing his powers and risk scaring her. "I was hoping you could help me. I just want to talk."

The guys back at headquarters speculated that the doctor could be a mutant, but without real proof, Gregory wouldn't just accuse her of being like him. Her father certainly was, considering he was the one who created this serum he was after, so he believed it safe to assume that Quincy at the very least would be a mutant sympathizer. Either way, Greg didn't feel he was risking too much by speaking to her; besides, if she called mutant control on him, there was nothing stopping him from running.

"If it helps, I don't catch fire, or shoot lasers out of my eyes." He smiled again, trying to deem himself as little a threat as possible. He then cast a glance around the alley, being certain no one was watching before he asked, "May I come in Dr. Hayes?" He asked much like he would if he had come over for a cup of tea, like this sort of occurrence was completely normal. Though if they became friends after all this, he would assure her that he didn't always meet women in such an odd fashion.

Quincy suddenly felt silly for thinking this man might be mutant control, as he turned out to be exactly the opposite. When he showed off his clean wrists, no band to indicate his identity, she knew for sure that he was a mutant himself, for who else would need to shed their bands? The sight sent a warning to her, and she half thought to close the window in his face before shoving that rude idea back into her mind. His words about not being dangerous did little to appease her fear, though, as the chances of this man being a wanted mutant in her mind sky rocketed. He said he only wanted to talk though, and Quincy could see little harm in that if it was not discovered. The longer he stood outside her window the more likely someone would see him, however. She would be better off with him inside, if just for a few minutes. It was the least she could do, for despite her appearances this man and her shared something in common.

“Come in,” she folded, stepping aside to allow him room to crawl through the window. Her eyes kept darting to the door, wondering just what she would do if Beth or another employee walked in at just this moment. It would certainly be hard to explain why she had a man climbing into her office; it would probably be assumed she was cheating on her husband and this was how she met her secret lover. That type of gossip would make the rounds of the office too fast, and Quincy had no room for lies to be spread about her. While the man was still making his way in she walked over to the door and flipped the lock, making sure that she would have no surprise interruptions. Quincy turned back from the door and walked over to her desk, motioning to the chair across from it as she did. “Please take a seat, Mr...?” Her formality was a defense she used well, one trained into her from years of practice in the medical community.

As she settled herself in the chair, the big oak desk acting as a barrier between the two, Quincy studied the man now sitting in her office. He looked to be in his early twenties, dressed to fit in with the beach town around him, whether as a tourist or perhaps something more she could not discern. She noted his thin frame, somewhat pale complexion – he would benefit from better nutrition and some multivitamins, she presumed. Quincy had a way of examining people when she first met them, looking at small physical indicators that would show her much of the persons lifestyle and health just by paying attention to how their body looked and responded. She supposed to was due to her work, that she was always looking for a tell tale sign of illness, but it was mostly just curiosity of others that lead to her little examinations. The man before her may be generally healthy, but he could use some work. And maybe a mental examination.

After a pause Quincy folded her hands over each other on the desk and looked right into the mans eyes. “If you were worried that we do not provide care to mutants here I would like to inform you that should not be a concern. In fact we have a program that deals with injuries that may have been induced by any variety of mutations.” A softer look crossed Quincy's face as she imagined how it must feel to be this man; to be a mutant that could not hide as she could, and to be worried over such basic human rights as healthcare. It was not fair, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Now, what is the problem, darling?” She could not resist the sentiment, as she often called her patients and friends by such pet terms. It seemed to put many at ease, to show them she was not just a professional in a white coat, but someone who genuinely cared for their personal well-being.

Once given an invitation, Gregory had little trouble getting in through the window, finding a good grip easily before climbing up and over the sill, into her office. "Thanks." He looked around her office, but if the serum was here, it certainly wasn't about to make itself known. So he took his seat and removed his sunglasses, before replying to the good doctor, "You can just call me Greg." Mr. Walker tasted too sour in his mouth, not to mention it would give her a clear way to identify him, or worse, his brother would find his trail.

He remained quiet as she seemed to be giving him a look over, maybe looking for signs that he really needed her help. He just smiled back at her until she finally spoke again. He replied quickly, "I'm not here for anything like that." He shook his head frivolously, much like a child would at the sight of icky vegetables, "I'm here because of a friend. He was taken by mutant control." He glanced around the room again, this time watching for cameras, "Do you want to help mutants, Doctor Hayes?" He looked back at her with furrowed eyebrows.

This serum of hers, it was going to help Greg infiltrate the base where his fellow mutant had been locked up. If his sources were correct, it would hide him from any mutant scanners on his way in, allowing him to impersonate a guard, or simply waltz in, unseen. The second was his personal favorite, and it required less time planning ahead. The sooner he could get in and free granite, the better off all mutants would be. This was far from being a selfish cause.

When her question was shot down so quickly Quincy's eyes narrowed in confusion, wondering what exactly Greg was here for. He obviously knew who she was, as he addressed her by her name, and knew just when she would be in her office. The meeting with him was becoming more and more out of Quincy's comfort zone, as he seemed to know much more about her than she did of him. It was when he mentioned mutant control that she raised her eyebrows in question and her heart skipped a beat. So this did have to do with them. After everything, she could not live a life free from the looming presence of their menacing control.

Quincy did not know how Greg knew who she was, nor how he had found her, and that frightened her. Sure, her name was in the directory for doctors; it was not like she was hiding. But for him to be here, unannounced, and start speaking of helping mutants and mutant control, well, it didn't sit well in Quincy's mind. He couldn't know her secret, that was impossible. Right? She had been so careful, always. Her whole life was built up around her hiding what she was, for her own good, and for those she helped here at the clinic. If she were taken away by mutant control for helping this man, how many others she helped each day would suffer? The best option, the only option, Quincy thought, was to continue doing what she had done for as long as she could remember: hide her life in half truths, be honest when it counted but keep herself safe. Besides, if Greg's friend was taken by mutant control they probably had a good reason. It was none of her business to get involved and potentially ruin her life in the process.

“I became a doctor to help people, of course I want to help.” Her tone started off stern, a hint of frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She did not take well to being interrogated in her own office over her views on aiding mutants. Taking a deep breath and counting the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall – one...two...three...- she let go of her hard feelings and gave Greg a sad smile, trying to show him she was sorry that she was not the woman he was looking for. “But Greg, you must be mistaken if you think I can do anything in this situation. If your friend was hurt, if you were hurt, I could help. There simply isn't anything I can do for you right now. I'm just a doctor,” she indicated to the office around them. “The most I can do is refer you to a lawyer friend of mine; maybe they can speak to mutant control and get your friend released.”

Her sharp response was enough to confirm Dr. Hayes's impeccable character, and he was sure she would help in the small way that she could; she just didn't know it yet. Now it was on to step two, which involved gaining her trust. Greg could see the suspicion written across her face as he revealed knowledge that he should not have had, and he felt the best way to ease the tension was give her a bit of information in return, "I don't think any lawyer in the world could get him out. He's a mutant fighting for the freedom of other mutants- just like me. He's freed many from the same situation he's in now."

Greg took a deep breath, considering the consequences before he added, "We know about the serum your father created. I'm from a group who looks out for mutants, and the guy in charge is an old friend of your dad's. The authorities are keeping an eye on him, so that's why I'm here talking to you." He realized that his statement would only draw in more questions, but he needed to use her curiosity to his advantage somehow.

(Srry it's so short Dx)

Quincy listened with an impassive face as Greg spoke of his friends condition, his role in helping him, and the ineffectiveness of the legal system. It was much as she expected to hear, yet she was still uncertain why he had thought she would he able to help. She did not have to wait long to discover the reason, though, as Greg paused a moment and then continued in a more serious tone. The words tumbling from his mouth were like darts right into Quincy.

Greg knew. They knew, whoever they were. A faceless organization full of potential ruthless enemies or kind allies – it didn't matter. No one should have known. Even as a little girl Quincy's father had drilled it into her that she was to tell no one about what he was, what she turned out to be, and especially not the medicine they took twice a day in order to hide their genes. Her nightmares had been full of men in dark coats taking her to dark rooms, or tearing her father away from her to never be seen again. She had been told this would be her fate if anyone else ever found out about the serum; it mustn't fall into the wrong hands. If mutant control found it the two of them would never escape their wrath, and if other mutants found it...well, her father had only said that not all mutants were like them, that they did not all have the best intentions.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She lied, shuffling some papers on her desk as she spoke, keeping the shaking that threatened her usually steady hands at bay. As the papers moved through her grasp she saw names on them, her patients, the people that relied on her. Her control, so carefully cultivated her whole life, was slipping from her grasp. She needed to pull it together. With a final touch she piled the papers together and looked to Greg with an unfazed expression.“You have incorrect information; my father and I merely run this clinic: there's no 'serum' here, whatever you think it is. And the authorities would have no reason to be watching him.” As she spoke her voice gained confidence in her lies, using her practice in telling patients bad news as a guide to sounding firm yet caring. “This group of yours, however well-meaning they are, have sent you to a dead end. If you're worried they may take this failure out on you, I have some connections for somewhere you can go to stay safe.” It was standard procedure for Quincy to suggest this; she had seen enough mutants pass through her waiting room after scuffles with their 'families' to know that not every group had the best interests of others in mind.

A red light lit up on the phone atop Quincy’s desk as she finished speaking. Looking away from Greg she pressed a button on it and through the speaker came Beth's voice. “Dr. Hayes, your next patient is ready in room five. It's Max again.” Despite Quincy’s rapidly turning mind, business was going on as usual in the clinic around her. No none knew that in her office she was facing a dilemma she had hoped to go her life without having to deal with. She needed to keep up the charade; she had her job to attend to, and to deviate from her duties was sure to cause suspicion. She had her fathers safety to think about, now. “I'll be right there,” she said into the speaker on the phone, and rose from the chair. As she passed Greg on her way to the door she gave him a authoritative look. “Just...stay here, ok? This shouldn't take long.” Exiting the room, Quincy made sure to lock the door again. If Greg was still there by the time she had finished with her patient then maybe she would know what to say to him by then. If he left, using the window again, well, that was one less thing she had to deal with.