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Heal Thy Self Book 2 By Paradox UCSF Parking Lot, San Francisco "Wow." I couldn't help but gush as Agent Mathews, Agent Jacobs, and I approached what looked like a brand new Ford Mustang. "That's your car? A Mustang GT 350?" Instantly the large form of Agent Jacobs turned and his hard gaze bore into me with such intensity that I was forced to look down at my paper slippers. "Are you very familiar with cars?" he asked pointedly. "No," I mumbled, shuffling my feet a little. "I just think it's a nice looking car. It reminds me of the Shelby GT 500 Cobra from Gone in 60 Seconds." Agent Jacobs grunted and turned to resume walking to the car while simultaneously hitting the unlock button on the remote. As he did that Agent Mathews gave me a crooked little smile. "I always thought so too. Did you know Nick Cage really drove that car in a lot of the scenes?" "Really?" I said, blinking in surprise. "I thought it was just all done on a set." "Nope, apparently he actually drove it in all of the scenes that didn't involve the near misses. He couldn't do it for those since they didn't want to lose their star because of a stunt accident." He opened the passenger door and rocked the front seat forward so I would be able to climb in the back. "That's pretty cool," I said as I settled into the soft, molded leather seats and let out a long sigh. "Oh this is nice," I murmured and quickly shut up when I caught Agent Jacobs' hard glare in the rearview mirror. "Nothing but the best for the boss," Agent Mathews quipped as he settled into the passenger seat and pulled on the safety belt. "The MCO must be pretty great to work for if you get to drive cars like this," I commented and offered Agent Jacobs a shy smile when he once again glared at me in the rearview mirror. It looked like Mathews was going to comment as well but was quickly silenced when Jacobs' glare was directed his way. Boy, this guy was really serious. I knew it would be a bad idea to piss him off with too many questions but there were some things I just had to know right away. "Agent Jacobs," I asked, unable to keep my voice from sounding tiny beneath that hard look in the large man's eyes. "Agent Mathews said you'd be placing me in protective custody." "That is correct," came the curt reply. "And that you're talking me to your headquarters?" "Yes." "Well, where am I going to be staying then?" That was something that I was a little worried about. I was still pretty much in the dark about the whole "protective custody" thing other than the MCO would be keeping me somewhere presumably until proper arrangements could be made to go live with another set of foster parents. I wasn't exactly thrilled by that prospect since the last ones I'd been placed with had been a living nightmare, but I knew that I didn't have any choice other than running away and living on the street. Since my mutation had turned me into a beautiful girl with rather uniquely-colored hair I knew my odds of survival in that scenario were very slim. Apparently this issue had already been considered because he didn't hesitate in his response. "We have guest quarters available for agents visiting for training. You'll be staying in them for the time being." "Oh, that's very nice of you," I said with a grateful smile. "I was worried I'd have to sleep on the floor in interrogation room or something." "Now would we do that to you?" Mathews asked as he turned in his seat to grin at me. "I dunno," I said with a shrug. "This is all so new to me." "Well don't worry," he said, pointedly ignoring his boss's glare. "We'll get you set up and then see about getting you something nicer to wear than hospital cast-offs." I looked down at myself when he said that and blushed self-consciously. Since all of my clothes had been destroyed when I'd climbed into a burning car to try and rescue its driver I'd been stuck with whatever Tina, the nurse I'd befriended, had been able to scrounge up. That had left me with a pair of hospital pajama bottoms, a thin white T-shirt, and paper slippers. It had been pretty embarrassing wearing that shirt since its thinness did very little to hide my new...ahem...endowments. Fortunately Agent Mathews had been kind enough to loan me his suit jacket when we left the hospital so I wasn't giving everyone a show when we'd walked through the parking lot. I'd used to be one of those guys who'd ogled girls when their nipples hardened and poked through their tops, now here I was one of those girls. I was still trying to get used to it, especially the drastic change in anatomy, but I think I was coping okay. Actually, it was kind of worrying me how well I was coping with it. Shouldn't I have been in a near constant state of panic about the fact that I'd permanently switched genders? I'm pretty sure most guys would have been yelling for the doctors to do something to change them back, yet I'd sort of taken it all in stride without really knowing why. Maybe it had something to do with my mutation, that it had affected my brain somehow. Hopefully I'd be able to get some answers when my power testing as done. Speaking of which... "Umm, Agent Mathews?" "Hmmm?" He turned in his seat to look back at me again. "When are you going to do my power testing?" Instead of answering he looked over at Agent Jacobs and lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "We'll get you in for testing in the morning," the man behind the wheel said, "As long as there are no other pressing scheduled appointments." "Okay," I replied and settled back to watch the scenery go by for a while. Unfortunately I couldn't simply just sit back and watch things go by, my mind just wouldn't stop going. There were so many questions that I had that I knew I'd have to wait to get answers. Where was I going to end up staying once "protective custody" was over? What kind of powers did I have? Would anyone go after Harold and Jackie for what they did to me? These were just a few of the questions rebounding through my brain as Agent Jacobs navigated through the evening traffic. One of those questions seemed to be answered when Agent Mathews dug his phone out of his pocket. "I'm going to put in a call to SFPD about Harold and Jackie Smith. I don't want to risk them running on the chance they think Ashley might have told someone about them. They could also tip off the social worker that placed her if the three of them were working together." "It can probably wait until morning," his boss replied, and oddly enough sounded like he was against the idea altogether. Why would he have a problem calling the police about them? "I'd prefer to do it now," Mathews argued. "I can have one of the detectives meet us at headquarters." "Do you really want to put her through that again so soon?" the larger man asked, turning his head slightly to pin the junior agent with a hard look and raised eyebrow. When I saw Agent Mathews get a defeated look on his face I knew I had to say something. "I'll talk to them." I had to swallow a lump of fear when those cold eyes suddenly snapped to look at me in the rearview mirror. "I'll do it," I asserted though I knew I didn't sound very confident. "If it means putting those two monsters away, the social worker too if she was involved, then I'll do it. I can't let them do what they did to me to another kid, even if it hurts to talk about it." For several seconds not a word was said as the car sped down the road and I thought for sure Agent Jacobs was still going to outright refuse. Then I saw his shoulders slump slightly and he snorted out a sigh. "Fine, call them. You'll stay with her in loco parentis Mathews." I'm not sure if Agent Jacobs thought that was a punishment but Mathews only smiled and turned slightly to wink at me before intoning in a serious voice, "Understood Chief." He then dialed a number on his cell phone. "Yes this is Agent Mathews with the MCO, we have a minor mutant in protective custody en route to our headquarters that is the victim of child abuse. Would you be able to dispatch a detective? Great, just tell them to come to the investigations division. Thanks. All set," he told us as he hung up and pocketed his phone. Agent...no, Mathews had called him Chief...Chief Jacobs merely grunted a response while I smiled with more confidence than I felt and nodded. It was a relatively short time later that we pulled up at the Bay Area MCO Headquarters. It wasn't an overly impressive building but it was a rather nice three story office-style building in white with a large attached garage. Chief Jacobs pulled the car into the garage, got out, and headed inside without so much as a word to either of us. Agent Mathews got out on his side and pulled the seat forward so I could wiggle out of the back seat before the two of us headed inside as well. By the time we exited the garage Chief Jacobs was nowhere to be seen, presumably heading for his own office and leaving me in the care of Agent Mathews. The garage exited into a decent-sized foyer area with a few potted plants, a waiting area with couches, coffee tables, and the requisite out of date magazines. There was also a circular information desk that, despite the late hour, was occupied by a slightly overweight older woman who cheerfully smiled and waved to us. The floor was a shining marble, or at least a good facsimile of it, and large, twin MCO symbols adorned the walls on either side of a bank of two elevators. "Hey Ellen," Agent Mathews called out as we headed for the elevators. "There's a couple of SFPD detectives on their way over to speak with Miss Logan. Send them up to me when they get here would you?" "Sure think Keith," the woman replied and sent another smile my way as the elevator doors closed. A quick ride later and we arrived on the third floor of the building with the doors opening to reveal a not overly large office area. There were five different desk areas though it looked like only three were in use based on the desktop adornments. "Those two belong to Agents Beakes and Anderson. You'll probably get to meet them tomorrow." "Are they like you or Chief Jacobs?" I asked teasingly though I was actually cautiously curious. I really didn't want to deal with another Chief Jacobs or two. "I'd say somewhere in the middle," he replied as he led me over to what was his desk. "They've worked here longer than I have so they typically get partnered up together." Now that was interesting. "So you usually work alone?" I asked as I took the seat he offered me beside his desk. "Yup," he said as he walked over to the coffee maker on the counter of the small kitchenette on the far side of the room. "I don't mind too much since I usually worked alone back on the job anyway." "The job?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "I was a detective for the SFPD for about three years before the MCO finally accepted my recruitment application." "Oh, you were a cop," I said with a nod. "That makes sense. I suppose most MCO agents started out as policemen." "Cops, FBI, military, we get them from all walks of life." "Did you like being a detective?" I asked. It seemed strange to leave his position if he did just to come to the MCO. "I liked it well enough," he replied and walked back to his desk to set a bottle of water in front of me that he'd snagged from the kitchenette's fridge. "But the opportunity to work with mutants through the MCO seemed like a better opportunity. I mean, what could be more exciting then tracking down and putting away supervillains right?" I giggled at his enthusiasm and opened my bottle of water before taking a sip. "I suppose when you put it that way." He chuckled and took a sip from his cup of coffee before stopping and looking at me with an odd expression that I wasn't entirely sure I liked. "Is something wrong?" I asked cautiously. Shaking his head he offered me a crooked smile. "No nothing's wrong. I just don't think I've ever talked about myself so much to someone before." Oh, I hoped he didn't think I was trying to dig for information. "I'm sorry," I apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to pry or anything." "Oh you didn't," he assured me. "I'm just don't usually do it. Too focused on work I guess." Though he waved it away I could tell he was considering why he had done it to begin with. I was too, actually. Could one of my powers be some kind of telepathy that made people tell me the truth? Shaking my head to clear away such a silly thought I took another sip of water as Agent Mathews looked me over and suddenly snapped his fingers, making me jump a little in surprise. "I damn near forgot," he said as he smacked his forehead. "I need to find you some better clothes. You gonna be okay here for a couple of minutes?" "Sure," I said with a nod. "Promise you won't run off on me?" he asked and jokingly glared at me. I laughed and nodded. "I promise I won't go anywhere. Well, maybe to the bathroom," I conceded with a little grin. "It's right through there," he said and pointed to a pair of doors at the far side of the room with the word washroom stenciled into a plaque before heading out of the office. Once I was left alone I took the opportunity to explore a little. Oh I didn't plan to go anywhere but it would probably be a good idea to try and get to know a little more about these people that wanted to help me. After all, I might be grateful for what they were doing for me but two years in a living hell had taught me that it was far better to be careful than just go into something blind. So, with my bottle of water in hand I did a slow circuit of the office. Since I had been sitting at it, Keith Mathews' desk was first. He didn't have very much in the way of personal effects, just a small framed picture of two older people who must have been his parents and the SFPD coffee mug he'd used. The other two desks were just as sparsely decorated. The one whose nameplate indicated it belonged to Agent Angela Beakes just had a photo of a German Shephard sitting in that regal way only Shephards can do and Agent Derek Anderson's only had a photo of a cute tow-haired boy of four that I assumed was his son. Other than their computer monitors, which were off, there was nothing else. Maybe the MCO had regulations on what kind of "flair" agents could have at their desks. I will admit it was very tempting not to give into that natural teenage curiosity to snoop around and open drawers and file folders I saw on the desktops. However, it was very easy not to give into that temptation since these MCO agents, especially agent Mathews, had done so much for me already and apparently even gone out of their way to make sure I was in a safe place. The fact that probably would have been illegal was really kind of secondary to this. I don't mean to imply that I was the kind of person that happily ran around doing illegal things because I'm not. It's more that how I'd been treated and cared for was first and foremost on my mind and the legality of it was secondary. Since there was a distinct lack of personal touches on the desks I instead turned my focus to the rest of the room in general. There really wasn't very much to it. Other than a large white board showing open cases (which at present there were none) it really did look like your standard, dull office. I didn't have more time to ponder how boring being an agent in this office really was because Agent Mathews reappeared with a bundle in his arms and a mischievous smile on his face. "I'm afraid we don't have much in the way of spare clothes," he explained apologetically as we both met back up at his desk. "The only thing we have is prisoner jumpsuits and I'm pretty sure you don't want to wear those." I wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. "I was able to find some underwear that, unfortunately, is prisoner issue too but they're plain black." "I'm sure it's fine," I said with an embarrassed blush lighting up my cheeks as the undergarments were placed in my hand. It wasn't every day that a boy turned girl was presented with women's underwear. "I wasn't sure what your, ah, size might be so I got several different ones. We've got a decent amount of stock so if none of them fit just let me know." I nodded and just couldn't get passed the embarrassment and even humiliation I was feeling at the situation as I headed for the bathroom with the clothes clutched to my chest. The embarrassment was kind of understandable but the humiliation crept on me. Where had that come from? I shouldn't have been feeling that just because Agent Mathews was being nice to me and giving me some decent clothes to wear. Was it because of the underwear thing? I wasn't sure since I was still very new to this girl thing, though it felt like I was getting used to it more and more as time went on. I was even holding the bundle to my breasts like I'd seen most girls do. Shaking my head to try and clear my thoughts as I slipped into the bathroom I first took care of my personal business. It wasn't the first time since I'd had to use the bathroom at the hospital but it still felt a little weird to have to do the whole wiping after you pee thing. Once that was done I looked over the packages of underwear and bras. They were all sealed in plastic so I knew they weren't just washed and re-used, thank god. Since I had no clue what I was in women's size I tried to pick carefully so he wouldn't have to throw away ones I tried on that didn't fit. I had no idea if that's what they actually did but since they were all sealed I suspected it was standard procedure. Still, despite my attempt at careful choices I ended up going through two packages of panties and three bras before I was able to find ones that seemed to fit properly. Despite being plain cotton, the panties definitely felt different than my old boy underwear. They were much more snug fitting, seeming to mold to my contours, and felt might lighter and smoother. The bra took some time to figure out. I'd never been on a date before to say nothing of getting a girl out of her bra, so the alien contraption was a bit confusing. Fortunately, modern media of all varieties had minimized the stigma of showing a woman in her underwear somewhat and I recalled seeing how the straps and hooks worked on some show or another so I was able to figure it out reasonably quickly. When the underwear was in place I could my image in the bathroom mirror out of the corner of my eye and couldn't resist turning to see how I looked. The gasp that came from me was involuntary but understandable. Even in plain, prison issue underwear there was no denying that the girl standing there in nothing but bra and panties was hot. Even with my hair looking like a mess and no makeup I thought she would put any Victoria's Secret model to shame. Should I be feeling that way about my own reflection? Shouldn't I be freaking out that the smoking hot girl I was staring at was me? "Stop it Ashley," I whispered to myself and forced my eyes from the image in the mirror to focus on the dark blue bundle that was the clothes Agent Mathews had found for me. Picking up the item on top of the pile I shook it out to discover it was a hooded sweatshirt with the letters MCO in bright yellow on the upper left portion of the chest and across the back. The matching sweatpants also had the MCO lettering on the left thigh. There was also a dark blue T-shirt with stenciling that matched the sweatshirt. The moment I pulled on the sweatpants I realized that this wasn't some prison issue or new recruit issue clothing. The fact that it was way too big for me meant this belonged to someone, probably someone in this office. It took rolling up the legs and rolling down the waist to get it to form even some semblance of a proper fit. The T-shirt was likewise too big and hung down to my thighs. The sweatshirt...well when I glanced at myself in the mirror again I looked like some little kid playing in her big brother's clothes. I rolled up the sleeves as best I could but there was no way I didn't look like a ragamuffin, just in decent clothes. A pair of thin yet serviceable black socks that were obviously prison issue and I was as dressed as I could be. When I peeked out of the bathroom Agent Mathews looked up from where he was typing on his computer and cast a smile my way before waving for me to come out. I really didn't want to since I was sure I looked absolutely ridiculous in these clothes but when he waved a little harder as I hesitated I knew I couldn't hide in this bathroom forever. Taking a deep breath I pushed opened the door and stepped out while simultaneously bracing for the laughter I knew was coming. He did chuckle, which I couldn't fault him for doing, but there were no great guffaws designed to make me feel small and insignificant. Instead he stood at his desk and looked me over before giving me a sheepish grin. "Sorry about the sweats," he apologized. "I figured I'd loan them to you until we could come up with something better." That caused me to blink in surprise as I first looked down at the clothes I was wearing before looking back up at him. "These are yours?" "Uh huh," he said absently as he sat back down and resumed typing. "They were all I could find. I hope you don't mind." "No, no," I assured him as I sat down in the chair beside the desk. "It's fine, I really appreciate it." As he nodded once again, his attention clearly focused on what I was guessing was his report involving me, I couldn't help but turn my head slightly into the folded back cowl of the hood breathe in deeply. Instantly my nostrils filled with the faint smell of laundry detergent so I knew it was clean. Beneath that though, there was another. It was hard to describe, but it was pleasant one and I was certain it was Agent Mathews' own, unique scent. As I breathed it in my eyes slid back to look at him and I realized that he was a rather handsome man. On the heels of that I wondered what it would be like for him to hold me in his arms and take my mouth in a gentle, yet demanding kiss. The instant that thought went through my brain I froze. Where in the hell had that though come from? Never in my life had I ever had a homosexual thought or urge in my entire life. I wasn't opposed to people who were homosexual, I just simply wasn't wired that way. Now, all of a sudden, I'm thinking about having this MCO agent take me into his arms and kiss my brains out...and liking it! Good god had my manifestation really changed me that much that I'd completely reversed my sexual orientation? Almost in desperation I tried to bring images of bikini and lingerie models into my mind and slowly roamed my mind's eye over their considerable assets, assets which I now possessed and they would likely be jealous of. No, stop that! Think about them not yourself. Are they attractive? Yes, they were absolutely attractive. Was I attracted to them? I actually let out an audible sigh of relief when I realized that yes I still found women attractive. My physical reaction was different since I stiffened much higher up on my body than before while the lower half felt sort of...soft and gooey. Okay that's going to take some getting used to. Hard nipples were okay since even as a guy they would sometimes pucker up if it was cold or something, though this time there was a poignant heat and throbbing in them. The feeling down below was altogether much more strange and alien-feeling, though I'm ashamed to admit that I really kind of liked it. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. Unfortunately my sigh attracted Agent Mathews attention and he looked up from his computer with a raised eyebrow. "Everything okay?" he asked with concern. "Oh, fine," I said quickly and looked down to try and hide my blush of embarrassment. I really didn't want this man knowing I had been thinking naughty thoughts about him, even if it had been for just a second. "Nervous about the detectives huh?" I don't think I'd ever been quite so happy for someone to misunderstand me as I did at that moment. "Yeah," I said as though admitting to exactly that. "But I know it's something I have to do. I can't let those...people...do something like this to another child that's in need of love and affection." He nodded and sat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "I have to tell you Ashley, I'm really impressed with how you've handled all of this." "Really?" I asked, looking up at him in surprise. "How do you mean?" "I've handled more than my fair share of cases of child abuse. Too many really," he explained and I could tell from the change in his expression it was something that had stayed with him since his SFPD days. "The ones that were really bad, similar to yours, was very hard on the kids involved. I've had more than a few that were nearly catatonic because they simply couldn't deal with what had happened to them. Not only are you still able to smile so soon afterwards, but you actually risked your life to save a stranger on the very same night you ran away from your foster parents. I really can't think of anyone who would have that kind of strength and courage." My cheeks flushed with embarrassment...jeeze was my face going to be permanently red from bushing so much!...and looked down at my feet. "I don't think it-" "Stop right there," he ordered and reached over to grasp my hand, causing me to inhale sharply at the feel of his firm grip on me. "Don't sell yourself short on this. I can tell from the time I've spent with you that you don't think of yourself as being special, but let me tell you something: You are. That isn't sarcasm, it isn't just telling you pretty words to make you feel better, though I do hope it's a nice side effect. I'm being completely honest here when I tell you that you're a special girl and I think you're going to keep on doing great things. I don't think it's going to happen anyway, but don't let what happened with your foster parents change the person you are because from everything I've seen so far the person you are is pretty damn great." I just sat there in open-mouthed silence for I don't even know how long just staring at him in shock and amazement at his words. While I'd received plenty of loving encouragement from my parents when they were still alive, this was the one person I'd met since they'd died that had professed it with such a strong level of passion that I had no choice but to believe him. My gut instinct was to downplay his words, to insist I wasn't anything other than ordinary but the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice made that simply impossible. This man, who was really still very much a stranger to me, told me in no uncertain terms that he thought I was special and believed in me as no one beyond my parents had. How could I not take him at his word? Sniffling a little I wiped at the tears of emotion that had formed in my eyes and threatened to start spilling down my cheeks. When he silently held out a tissue to me I whispered my thanks and dabbed at my eyes while he continued to look at me with that same intensity. I think I knew what he was waiting for and for the first time in a long while I wasn't automatically ready to disagree. "Okay," I managed in a choked voice. "You're right, I'm special." His lips twisted slightly and his eyes narrowed, but it was a teasing kind of look so I didn't think he was upset. "You'll get there," he assured me. Bay Area MCO Headquarters, Office of Ronald Jacobs Jacobs watched the investigator bull pen via the security feed link on his computer as first Mathews left, the girl wandered around a little bit but didn't poke her nose into anything, and then Mathews returned with some clothes for her. He frowned when he utilized the zoom on the security camera and saw that other than some prisoner issue underwear and socks he was loaning the girl a T-shirt, sweatpants, and sweatshirt all with the MCO logo on it. Obviously the man was letting the girl use his own clothes since he wouldn't dare pilfer those of his colleagues from the locker room. That bothered the Chief. It meant that instead of getting a prisoner issue jumpsuit for the mutant he was treating her like she was human which simply cut against the grain. If it had been him, the girl would have been in prison clothes and secured in a cell until she could be moved to a more secure location that the general public had no knowledge of. It was exactly because of his gut instinct and visceral reaction to the mutant girl that he was allowing Mathews to keep watch over her. For the time being he wanted her to think they were helping her since her cooperation would make the move to the secure facility. The other option was to simply render her unconscious using drugs or physical force but that would mean facilitating the extra effort of transporting of an unconscious girl. Given the demeanors he knew of his junior investigators that would make things rather complicated, especially when it came to Mathews. Beakes and Anderson he might be able to sway with some elaborate fiction, but he knew that wouldn't work with Mathews. The investigator had already established a bond with the girl between their time in the hospital and now in the bullpen. She seemed to trust him almost implicitly and there was little doubt that the agent felt protective of her. His concerns were only justified when the man held the girls hand and told her she was special. That bond meant that Mathews would not only strongly object to the treatment, it was likely he would take any number of steps to stop them. There was the possibility that he could simply eliminate Mathews and make it look like the girl had attacked him since she had yet to be power tested. He could always say that it was a power she had yet to demonstrate. No, that wasn't the best way to go. Not only would it bring the eyes of the higher ranks into his building, but the girl would be taken out of his grasp along with his chance at redemption. The safest course of action at this point was to continue the charade of being the kind and gentle MCO with Mathews being its poster boy for the mutant girl. When the two detectives from the SFPD arrived at the bullpen he set the footage to record so he could view it later on his private encrypted server before turning his attention to dealing with the girl's power testing. Since the Bay Area Headquarters was rather small their testing facilities were rather limited. This was especially true in matters of mutants possessing regenerative or healing capabilities. Because of this, they had typically brought in medical professionals from the local hospitals to conduct that area of testing and work in conjunction with their power techs. Thankfully, he didn't need to worry about calling a physician on short notice in this case. Picking up his desk phone he dialed a number and heard a female voice on the other end of the line say. "UCSF Medical Center, how may I direct your call?" "Doctor Reginald Taylor please," he nearly demanded. The phone rang for a second time before it was picked up and he heard the doctor's voice. "Doctor Taylor." "Doctor, this is Agent Jacobs from the MCO." "Ah Agent Jacobs." There was a positively childlike glee in the man's voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "We will be contacting the power testing for Ashley Logan tomorrow afternoon. For the regeneration and healing portions of the testing we require the assistance of a medical professional and-" "Say no more," the doctor interrupted, causing Jacobs to frown. If anyone had tapped this line and listened to the call they might be able to hear how anxious the man was and that was not a good thing. "Would you prefer me to come to your facility or would you like to use the hospital?" "Stand procedure is that we use our facilities doctor," he said carefully, trying to silently convey to the man that he needed to calm down. "Perfectly understandable," came the chipper reply. "However might I offer an alternative?" "As I said doctor, our protocol dictates-" "What I was thinking," Taylor went on as if Jacobs hadn't even spoken. "Is that you could bring her here and we could test for regeneration in the ER. Once that is done we could perhaps test her healing capabilities on some of our patients." "Doctor," Jacobs snapped. "That is against MCO testing guidelines. You will be conducting the tests here, or do I should I contact another physician." Perhaps it was the rapidly growing anger in his voice that finally broke through the doctor's exuberance because his reply was much more subdued this time. "Yes, of course, I do apologize. I was just thinking outside the box, so to speak. I wouldn't want to compromise your protocols after all. Do you have the necessary...supplies...to test the girl's healing abilities?" Jacobs didn't need a translator for that one. The idiot was actually suggesting bringing patients from the hospital to headquarters so the mutant could heal them. "No doctor, we have all the supplies we need. Your presence is only required to ensure the mutant is not severely injured during the regenerative testing and to validate the healing testing, that is all." "Of course," the physician replied, not quite managing to hide the fact that he was a bit crestfallen from his voice. "What time do you wish me to be there?" "Three o'clock should be fine," Jacobs said and hung the phone without bothering to make sure the doctor understood or even offer a farewell. It actually took a great deal of control to keep from slamming the phone down on its cradle in frustration. As it was, Jacobs needed a few moments to just sit and take deep breaths to bring his emotions under control. That moron was going to get them both in trouble if he wasn't careful. He had been dangerously close to sounding like a devisor on the cusp of a Dietrich's outbreak he had been so giddy. If anyone had been listening in they would surely have suspected something wasn't right with the doctor, and anything discovered involving this mutant would certainly get traced back to him in some way. After New York that was attention he couldn't afford to have. Glancing at the monitors he saw the SFPD detectives were preparing to leave after obviously having gotten enough information from the girl. Tapping a key on his keyboard he brought up the audio feed from the room. "We appreciate how hard this has been for you Ashley," the woman was saying while the man made a few last minute notes. "I think we have more than enough information to put out a warrant for the Smiths and start an investigation into the social worker that placed you with them. Is there anything else you wanted to tell us about what happened? Anyone else you can think might be involved that you didn't consider before now?" The girl shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Jacobs ground his teeth when Mathews draped an arm around her shoulders and gave one a comforting squeeze. "No, the one social worker is the only one I ever met, even during the checkup visits." "Well we'll start looking into the social worker in the morning," the male detective assured her as he put his notebook away. "And we'll get the warrant pushed through on the Smiths tonight. With a little luck we'll have them in custody before you even wake up." "I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of this," Ashley said as she looked up at the two detectives with those wide, innocent eyes and smiled at them. When he saw the male detective give her a bit of a sheepish smile in return he wanted to just scream and throw the monitor across the room. Didn't they realize this mutant bitch was just pulling an act? Couldn't they see that she was acting nice just as a means of putting them at ease? At the first opportunity he was certain that she would fry them all to a crisp or melt their brains or whatever power it was she possessed. That's how mutants operated. He'd seen it hundreds of times and yet people still refused to listen to him when he tried to warn them. It was disgusting and pathetic and he refused to be conned. Taking another few moments to calm himself down and regain control, he watched the detectives leave before she and Mathews start chatting again. Deciding that enough was enough for the night he left his office and strode down the hall to where the bullpen was. When he entered he kept an iron grip on his emotions when he heard the girl laughing softly at some joke Mathews had told. They both turned to look at him as he approached though both were still smiling. "Have the police spoken with you yet?" he asked the girl directly. "Yes sir," she replied, instantly shrinking under his gaze. Good, she knew who her betters were. He was so focused on the slut that he failed to see Mathews' narrowed gaze and the hints of anger in it. "Then I'll take you to the room you'll be staying in for the time being. You can go home Mathews," he said and turned to walk out without waiting to see if his orders would be obeyed. "Sir, it wouldn't be any trouble for me to get Ms. Logan situated," he heard Mathews say. "That's quite alright Mathews," he said without turning or breaking stride. "I'll see to our guest." There was the quiet sound of stocking feet thumping on the carpet rapidly before he caught sight of the girl walking quickly beside him in order to keep up. He barely acknowledged her presence as they headed for the elevator bank and then stepped inside when the car arrived and started its journey upward. "I wanted to thank you again for all of this Chief Jacobs," the girl said quietly after a few moments. The proper use of his title caused the big man's eyes to briefly flicker towards the shy girl before once again focusing on the closed elevator doors. His opinion of her went up fractionally at the fact that she had done so without any prompting on his part. "I'm simply following the guides and protocols that are in place to protect mutants." He felt a measure of pride that he managed to say that in an even tone instead of a turning the word 'protect' into a sneer. "Well I'm very happy that those terrible rumors about the MCO hunting mutants are wrong," she said in that lilting voice of hers that tried to tempt him into softening towards her. "There are many misconceptions about the MCO that we are constantly battling against." "But there's that show, Tales of the MCO, that must help." Now he did look down at the girl. He was pleased that she quickly looked down when their eyes met. "That show makes a mockery of what we do. The real agents of the MCO put their lives on the line every day just as much as the police do to make sure that mutants don't kill thousands in some wild quests for power." "Not all mutants," the girl whispered and lifted her gaze to look up at him for the first time. "I don't want to kill anyone." For several moments, Jacobs unwillingly found himself captivated by those huge, innocent eyes. He hadn't noticed before just how damned green they were. It was like looking at a pair of emeralds that were so bright they were nearly luminescent. And they were honest. Jacobs had looked into the eyes of more criminals than he could count, but not one of them held a look of such pure honesty and goodness in them like the ones he was in the presence of now. This girl was being truthful; she didn't want to hurt anyone. What's more, her actions the previous night proved that when she risked her own life to save that of another. Maybe, just maybe, his hardened belief of mutants was wrong. It was that last thought that had him clamping down so hard on emotions he thought he might grunt with the effort. So, it looked like the bitch might also possess some kind of telepathic ability as well, possibly even mind control. It was the only explanation for why he'd suddenly started feeling affection towards her. He'd have to be very careful around the girl until they could get her power testing completed in the morning. Once that was done he'd be able to come up with the means of resisting her abilities until she had been transported to the secured facility he was already working on. Once that was done he wouldn't need to conceal his feelings for her any longer. The hell with trying to convince her to help the MCO, once the doctor extracted her method of healing and replicated it he wouldn't need to worry about her cooperation. Then he could eliminate her from society and move onto something bigger. "Did I say something wrong Chief Jacobs?" Ashley asked nervously. Damn. Obviously he hadn't done quite as good of a job concealing his emotions as he thought. "I'm just thinking about another case, that's all," he improvised as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Stepping out of the car quickly, and trying to convince himself it wasn't a quasi-form of escaping from the girl's presence, he led her down a hall until reaching a door that had the words Guest Quarters #2 stenciled into a plaque beside it. Using a key he unlocked and opened the door to reveal a living space roughly the size of an average college dorm. In the singular room was a bed, a small desk, a tiny kitchenette complete with a mini fridge and stovetop, a modest-sized flat screen tv mounted to the wall, and a tiny bathroom complete with a miniscule shower. "These will be your quarters for the duration. Someone will come get you tomorrow afternoon for your power testing. I will see about having breakfast and lunch delivered to you until arrangements can be made for you to obtain groceries. It would be best that you don't leave your room until someone comes to get you so you aren't wandering the halls." The girl nodded and accepted the door key from him before stepping inside and doing a slow circle before facing him once again with a happy smile. "It's great. I didn't think I'd have a room so big." That had Jacobs blinking in surprise. Big? He'd deliberately given her the smallest possible room. In truth it was little better than a hostel and wasn't often used for visiting agents unless they were severely overbooked, yet this girl thought it was big? Shaking his head in disbelief he merely turned and closed the door behind him. Just before it shut he heard the girl call out a friendly. "Goodnight," before her voice was cut off. With the girl safely tucked away for the night, Jacobs headed for the elevators. He'd sleep in his office tonight since he wanted to stay close to the mutant. It wouldn't be the first time the couch there had doubled as a bed and likely wouldn't be the last. Bay Area MCO Headquarters, Guest Quarters Considering that for the first time in two years I was in a safe place with people who cared for my safety watching out for me, I should have slept like a baby that night. Unfortunately, as any victim of horrible and sustained violence will tell you, that usually isn't the case. Some might continue to sleep on the floor. Some might stay in a closet for days or even weeks. For me, it was coming awake screaming in terror as I relived dozens of episodes of abuse and torture all at once. I was able to stop not very long after I was awake, maybe two or three minutes, but that still left me hugging my knees tightly to my chest and rocking back and forth while whimpering softly. I just couldn't seem to stop my eyes from darting to every dark corner, my heart hammering in my chest every time I looked as my mind fully expected Harold and Jackie to just suddenly manifest out of the shadows and drag me scratching, clawing, and screaming back into that hell. I swear I could feel them somehow watching me, just waiting to strike. I'd been awake a total of perhaps twenty minutes before my heartbeat started to slow to around something normal and I wasn't seeing Harold and Jackie demon shapes in the shadows. When I was finally able to breathe with gasping or sobbing I let my head fall onto my knees and just sat there for a little while longer while the tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped off my chin onto the blanket. I wondered then if I would ever be able to sleep again. Would this happen to me every night when I closed my eyes? Would I ever be able to sleep again without waking up screaming? Was I doomed to be haunted by my memories for the rest of my life? Grinding away sleep and my tears with my palms I swung my legs over the side of the bed and just took a few moments to simply breathe. The tears had stopped now, that was a plus, and my shaking had reduced to a fine trembling instead of a full body quake, also a plus. Of course, my shaking could have also been shivering since I realized it was bit chilly in my room that morning and the only thing I was wearing were a pair of panties and the oversized T-shirt Agent Mathews had let me borrow. Hurrying to the tiny bathroom I flipped on the light and started the shower, turning it up nice and hot. While I waited for the water to heat up I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but wince. My hair was all over the place, not unsurprising since I'm sure I was thrashing about in my sleep. My eyes were red and even looked a bit sunken in, but that could have been a combination trick of the light and the dark circles under my eyes. Overall I looked pale, as in white as a sheet kind of pale. Again, this wasn't much of a surprise given the night I'd had but it still made me shudder at the sight of the girl staring back at me. And that's what did it. The sight of that terrified, haunted girl in the mirror made me realize that Harold and Jackie were winning. Their one goal from the moment I'd come under their twisted version of care, aside from collecting money from the government for housing me, was to instill and cement feelings of fear, helplessness, and submissiveness towards them. In their eyes I doubt I ranked much higher than a dirty mutt whose only purpose was to be kicked for their amusement. But I wasn't some mongrel dog anymore. I was someone new, something new. It wasn't in me to take revenge, but I'd be damn sure that the next time I laid eyes on them (likely in court) that the person they saw would be a self-assure and confident girl who had taken everything they'd given and not only survived, but thrived despite them. Of course, that was easier said than done, and I'd likely revert to my naturally shy state within the next hour or so, but in that moment I felt strong and good about myself. When I showered I did so with authority. Yes, I realized just how stupid that sounded about halfway through the shower and ended up cracking up laughing at myself. But that in itself was good, almost therapeutic. There was a time when I didn't think I'd ever be able to laugh again so the fact that I was proved that I wasn't completely gone yet. Once I'd finished showering using the tiny hotel portion bottles of soap, shampoo, and conditioner (a new first), I wrapped a towel around myself, girl-style so my breasts were covered, and brushed my teeth with the provided toothbrush and toothpaste before once again looking in the mirror. Well, I looked a little better anyway. There were still bags under my eyes but they weren't so red and sunken in looking anymore. The hot water had pinkened up my skin and my hair now hung down my back in a straight mass of dark red. I knew it would lighten when it dried and take on that unusual hue that came with my mutation. Candy apple red, Agent Mathews had described it last night. I smiled a little and started running the cheap plastic comb that came with the toothbrush and toothpaste through my hair until it was reasonably free of tangles. I would have probably had more success with an actual brush but I had to do with what was available to me for the moment. Of course, that also meant I'd have to wear the same clothes that I'd worn yesterday. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of it but until there was nothing I could really do. I didn't want to ask the MCO agents to just buy me something because it wouldn't feel right to do that. After all, I'd be asking them to spend their own money on me and there was no way I'd be able to pay it back to them. So, I'd just suck it up and wear the same clothes and underwear for another day. I had just walked out of the bathroom and was leaning down to pick up my bra and panties when I noticed a small slip of paper stuck halfway under the door. At first I felt icy fingers of fear skim down my spine and that irrational prey animal part of my brain was sure it was from Harold and Jackie. Had they managed to slip passed the police and found out where I was? Were they tormenting me? With shaking hands I slowly drew the slip all the way from underneath the door with two fingers as though I thought it would bite me. When I flipped it over my sigh of relief could be heard throughout the entirety of my living quarters. Got you a few more things. Hope the sizes are right. We can swap them out if they aren't. Courtesy of the MCO victim dispensation fund. Opening the door I discovered two plastic shopping bags with a big yellow smiley face on them sitting right outside on the floor. Looking up and down the hallway I hoped I'd see who my benefactor was but there was no one there. Of course that shouldn't have been very surprising since once I brought the bags inside and turned on the television I discovered it was only just after six in the morning. Well, at least I managed to get more than four hours of sleep. That was a lot better than what my normal typically was. I started digging through the bags like it was Christmas Day, pulling out packages and clothing articles and laying them all out on the bed so I could see everything. In total there were two pairs of jeans, two T-shirts one white and the other pink, two white blouses, a package of ankle socks with colored trim, a package of mixed style panties in white, two plain white bras, and a pair of white sneakers. I squealed in delight at my bounty and quickly ripped open the package of panties, drawing on the first pair my fingers touched. The moment they slid up between my legs I froze. Whoops. I hadn't looked at the packaging so I didn't realize that one of the styles included in the mix was a thong. Why in the world would I want to have a permanent wedgie? I was about to skin them right off but as I slowly shifted my hips back and forth a little I realized it really wasn't too bad. Sure it felt a little weird but a touch of adjustment here and there and it felt okay. Hell, I reasoned, lots of women wore thongs on a daily basis and they seemed to be okay with them, maybe even enjoyed wearing them. Would I? Did I look okay in them? Curiosity at that last question had me hurrying back to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Unfortunately there was no full length one available so I had to hop up on the toilet so I could see. Damn. Now I had a bit better understanding why women wore these so often. As narcissistic as it was, and let's face it I'd had a pretty good dose of that as of late, the thong made my ass look outstanding. I had a feeling that I would definitely rock a pair of yoga pants with these underneath. Giggling almost wildly, I hopped down off the toilet and rushed back out to the clothes arranged on the bed. I was actually anxious to see what I looked like when I had actual, properly fitting clothes on. Well I hoped they fit properly since even I didn't know what my current sizes were much less my mysterious benefactor. The bra was first and it seemed and felt to be the right size, declaring me a thirty-two C. It felt weird and a bit constricting, but then my one and only experience ever wearing one had been late last night so I assumed I'd just get used to it. The jeans were next and while they were definitely snug they weren't oppressively so. The denim molded to my hips and thighs before loosening slightly at my calves. Since this was my first real day out as a girl instead of being a victim in ill-fitting dress I decided to put my best face forward out of what I now had so I donned the blouse. It took a moment to re-orient my thinking with the buttons on the reverse side of how I was used to but soon I was fully dressed save for socks and shoes. Bouncing back over to the bathroom I hopped back up on the toilet so I could get a look at myself. The jeans hugged my curves and showed off what I had to say was a great figure while the blouse added a nice little touch of gentler femininity without being blatant about it. All in all I looked like a typical teenage girl, albeit a beautiful one. I knew that back when I'd been a boy I surely would have wanted to go out with me, and do a whole lot more. But damn if I wasn't the little hottie. I struck a couple of poses, blew sexy kisses at myself, tossed off a saucy wink. Looking like I did I was sure I could have any guy I wanted. It was that last thought that had be freezing in place, mid pose, and blinking at myself in the mirror with wide-eyed disbelief. What the hell am I doing? I thought wildly. I'd been a girl for only two days and now I was turning into some teenaged sexpot? I'd never in my life had this kind of attitude before. Physical beauty aside, there was no reason why I should suddenly be acting or even thinking like some hot seductress. Even since I woke up two days ago I'd felt, talked, and acted just like I had before my change. What had happened that I was suddenly racing and ready to tease and please? Had my mutation changed my mind and personality as well? Shaking with fear now, I walked back into the living area and sat down on the bed before hugging my knees tightly. Dear god did I get a mental change along with a physical change? Was the person I'd always been happy and was comfortable with going to suddenly go away? I wasn't fully versed on how a mutant's BIT worked but I supposed it was possible for something like that to happen. Maybe I was starting to experience Dietrich's Syndrome. No, that couldn't be right. I wasn't having delusions of some grand scheme or plots to take over the world and destroy my enemies. So what the hell had just caused that bout of extreme narcissism? Shaking my head to try and clear it I decided that maybe I was just still tired and all of my synapses weren't firing quite right yet. I was still me and I wasn't thinking about running around seducing men anymore so maybe, please god, it was something else. Coffee. Coffee would be good. It would wake me up and kick my brain into gear. Fortunately the room came equipped with one of those little coffee makers you'd find in a hotel and soon I had the small four-cup carafe brewing and filling the air with a wondrous promise of caffeine goodness. While waiting for it to finish I grabbed the tv remote off the desk and turned on the flat screen, making sure the volume was down so I wouldn't disturb anyone. Since I had no idea who else might be on this floor right now prudence in manners was the best course of action. Flipping through the channels I finally landed on the morning news and decided to just let it play while I poured myself a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar. I was just starting to stir the mixture when a report came on that had my actions slowing to a stop. "Two nights ago," the news anchor was saying as a picture of a blazing car wreck appeared in the upper corner of the screen. "A fiery crash occurred near the Tenderloin District. The crash appeared to have been caused when one vehicle failed to stop of a stop sign and struck another passing vehicle, causing a very serious accident that almost resulted in the death of its driver. Fox News has now learned more details regarding the events that undoubtedly saved the life of this driver. Tony Gonzales has the story." As I slowly sipped my coffee, not realizing my hand was shaking so badly that I almost spilled it all over myself, I watched the screen change to show a slow panning of an intersection. It was daylight and there was no sign of carnage, but there was no mistaking it. That was the intersection where I'd been. "Though the streets are clear now," a man's voice said over the image. "Two nights ago this intersection at the corner of Ellis and Hyde was the scene a horrific traffic crash that nearly resulted in one driver losing his life." The image continued to pan over until the field reporter himself entered the screen. "According to witnesses," he continued. "Thomas Jones was driving his sedan through this intersection on Ellis Street at approximately midnight when another vehicle drove down Hyde Street at a high rate of speed. This speeding vehicle blew through the stop sign and then impacted Jones' vehicle on the driver's side. The resulting crash not only caused significant damage to both vehicles, but also sparked a fire that quickly began to consume both cars. While the driver of the car who caused the crash fled the scene, Jones was knocked unconscious and left trapped in the burning vehicle. It was at that point that a young woman who happened to be walking down the sidewalk at that time leapt into action, action that saved the man's life." The image on the television changed to show a professional-looking man in his thirties wearing a suit speaking to the camera. "I really can't remember too much about what happened," he said, "I was just driving down the street when everything just seemed to explode. I guess that was when I'd been hit by that other car. The next thing I knew everything was hot and red and something was yanking at me while a voice was screaming. I kind of blacked out again but when I woke up there were police cars and ambulances around and I was lying on the ground with this girl unconscious next to me and holding my ankle and I was perfectly fine. My clothes were burned really bad but I didn't hurt at all. Things happened pretty fast then and the EMT's loaded me and the girl into ambulances and went to the hospital. The doctors there told me I didn't have any kind of injuries but I'm sure I should have had at least broken bones and burns." "So," the reporter said off-screen. "Are you saying that mysterious girl healed you?" "It's the only explanation," Jones said with a shrug. "I guess she's a mutant and used her power on me." The screen changed again to show the reporter front and center before the camera again. "Because the young woman was determined to be a minor the hospital can't release her name to the media but they did state that she was uninjured and released late last night after observation. When we contacted the Bay Area Mutant Commission Office to inquire about mutant involvement in this accident they told us in an emailed statement that their office was made aware of the situation. They conducted an investigation into the suspected mutant involvement and determined the young woman in question was indeed a mutant and a minor and thus couldn't disclose her identity. They did however say that based upon their investigation it was determined she committed no felonious acts that could have contributed to the crash and that her only actions involved the heroic rescue of the injured driver. We'll bring you more information about this story as it happens. Back to you in the studio." I thumbed the power button on the remote and took another shaky sip of coffee. So much staying under the radar. At least they didn't have my name or the fact that I'd once been a boy since that would have really made things sticky. While there was more tolerance in the world towards transgender people than in the past, combining a sex change with mutation was something people just weren't fully prepared to embrace just yet, even in San Francisco. I was just lucky that it had been dark at the time so that man, Thomas Jones, hadn't really been able to see the color of my hair. Since it was such an unusual color it would have been a dead giveaway and there wouldn't have been a way to stay anonymous. Still, how many people had been in the ER when I'd been brought in that had seen me and seen this broadcast and were now putting two and two together. I had a bad feeling that my anonymity wouldn't be lasting for very long. A light knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts and I glanced over. "Ashley," I heard Agent Mathews say from the other side. "Are you awake yet?" "Yes," I called back. "One second." Walking over to the door I flipped the lock before opening it to reveal the smiling agent holding a brown bag on the other side. "Good morning," I said, trying to sound smiling and chipper and just not quite able to do it." Like a good investigator, Agent Mathews was instantly able to tell something was wrong and he sighed. "You saw the news," he deduced. "Uh huh. How long before they figure out who I am do you think?" "I'd like to say they won't," he replied, stepping into the room after I motioned an invitation and sitting on the desk chair. "But we both know how much these news agencies will dig at a mystery if it gets them a good story." "Yeah," I said, sitting on the bed and hugging my knees. "I was just thinking about all of the people who might have seen me come into the hospital that night. They're probably calling the news station right now to give them a tip." "Probably," Agent Mathews admitted as he rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "We may want to look at getting out in front of this before it gets too crazy, but I need to talk with my boss and the PR department first. But anyway," he said with a sudden clap of his hands that made me jump a little. "We'll worry about that later. First things first," and he held up the bag with the yellow M on it. "Hungry?" "Starving," I said meaningfully before my eyes widened with the realization that I might be giving the wrong impression. "I mean I haven't really eaten much since the hospital last night, not that I can eat as much as three people." "Relax," Mathews laughed knowingly. "I think we already established last night that you don't have an energizer's appetite." Opening the bag he removed the paper and Styrofoam-wrapped wrapped goodies and arranged them on the desk top. "I wasn't sure what you liked so I got a few things. Don't worry," he assured me when I opened my mouth to protest him buying all of that food. "I haven't had breakfast yet either so whatever you don't want I'll eat." "In that case," I said with a happy smile. "I'll take the pancakes please, and one of the hash browns." He slid the items across the desk towards me before unwrapping a breakfast sandwich for himself and started eating while I popped the lid off my pancakes and drenched them in the provided syrup. "It looks like the clothes fit you okay," he commented, confirming my suspicions that it was him who had gotten them, and I could see his gaze roam over me with a critical eye. "Any problems with any of it?" "No," I assured him around a mouthful of pancake. "Everything fits pretty good, though I'm not sure if the bra is supposed to feel a bit constricting or not." "Afraid I can't help you there," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "Though you can ask Agent Beakes if we see her later." "Okay. Is there anything I need to do before the power testing this afternoon?" I inquired. Despite appreciating the safe haven that the MCO was giving me I was starting to feel a bit cooped up spending all my time in either a hospital room or the MCO building. "Nothing I can think of, but I'm afraid you can't just out for a walk right now," he told me apologetically, clearly catching my meaning behind the question. "Since you're still in our immediate protective custody we can't let you just go out on your own since legally speaking we're still responsible for your well-being." I sighed and forked up another bite of pancake and chased it with a sip of coffee. "I'm just feeling a bit stir crazy," I complained and winced at the slightly whiny quality to my voice. "I don't want to be a problem but seeing the same four walls is kinda making me want to start climbing 'em." "I hear ya," he smiled understandingly. "I'm not sure what we can do to get rid o