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 The Years Will Fly

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Quincy Hayes

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PostSubject: The Years Will Fly    1/7/2014, 05:45

*** This is a thread from the point of view of Ronan Hayes, Quincy's mutant father. It is in regards to what will happen in the thread with Quincy and Greg, and will feature the mutant that Greg works for, named Rally. ***

Ronan Hayes faceclaim:
 




For the first time the smell of sea salt and the warm ocean breeze that greeted Ronan Hayes as he walked up to the doors of his clinic did not lighten his mood. His mind was troubled, and even the cheery music spilling out of the nearby cafe could not part through the haze of unease he felt.

Some days he wished he did not have the incredible talent of reading the minds of those around him, and today was one of those days. If he, just for once in his life, couldn't know the things that others did not tell him then he would be happily ignorant of the issues and dangers that might soon up upon him and his family. However, that was not his life. Ronan's life was never as calm as that, even after all these years. He only hoped that he was overreacting, that he could keep a hold on the peace he had worked so hard to obtain.

As he walked into the office he greeted the young girl at the counter, giving his customary fatherly smile without words, and headed back into the clinic's office rooms. Instead of going into his own, Ronan made a straight route to his daughter, Quincy's, office. It did not take too long for a father to notice their child was ignoring them, and for him it was even easier. If she was not going to approach him, he would have to take matters into his own hands.

Ronan rapped his knuckles on the door before gently opening it and peeking his head in. Quincy was just looking up from the papers on her desk, her blond hair falling into her eyes, and Ronan couldn't help but smile and feel the surge of pride he got whenever he looked at his daughter. “I brought you a bear claw, Quinnie. Your favorite.” He opened the door fully and stepped inside, holding out the bag with the pastry inside.

Quincy's smile lit up her face and she put the pen that had been resting in her hand down. “Thanks, daddy.” Their relationship had always been strong, and she still referred to him in the ways she did as a child, despite now being an adult herself. Ronan stepped forward and she took the bag from his hands, grateful for the surprise.

“So, you canceled dinner with your mother and I last night. She was pretty disappointed.” Ronan remained standing instead of taking the seat across from Quincy's desk, preferring to skip the hassle of getting up again in a few moments. He wasn't ancient, but he was getting on in years, and if he didn't have to hear his knees crack when he stood up then remaining on his feet was just fine.

“I'm sorry. Charlie wasn't feeling very well.” Quincy's eyes lowered to the floor when she lied, a sign that Ronan had learned to notice nearly three decades ago. It also helped that he had seen what was in her mind earlier that morning, before he had even stepped foot from his car.

“Quincy May, you know you can't lie to your father.”

For the second time that day Ronan wished she could. Then he would not have to have this discussion, or the nagging fear that was beginning to grow. What Quincy was not telling him was that she had given away their serum, their secret to some unknown mutant who asked for her help. Unknown to her, perhaps, but now known to Ronan. When he had found the words and thoughts in her mind, of the young mutant Greg and his plight, he hoped that the years of warning his daughter would pay off. It seemed he would be let down, though, as he watched through her eyes the way she finally gave in to the man. It was only when he heard the name Rally pass through her thoughts that Ronan knew the situation was even worse than he had imagined.

“I just wanted to help! You used to want to help, too.” Quincy was saying, flinging her arms into the air in frustration. She had become flushed, embarrassed that she had gone against all that she had been told from the moment she could understand, and equally indignant that her father did not see it her way.  

“Quinnie, there is a difference between helping someone and doing the right thing. You don't know how much damage you may have caused. You don't know these people like I do. I'm not blaming this on you, princess, but you have to trust me on this. I have lived through more than you, I know how these things progress. I've seen first hand the danger and devastation that can come with aiding the wrong people. I-we, have worked too hard for this life to go throwing it away. This is not your fight.”

Quincy sat behind her desk, biting her bottom lip in the onslaught of her father's reprehension. While his words and opinions were prized more than anyone else's to her, she couldn't help but feel like he was treating her as the little girl she no longer was. “I am old enough to pick my own fights,” she said decisively. Standing up, Quincy walked around the desk to where her father was standing and placed her hand on his arm, a loving gesture that voiced not only her independence but also her consideration of his words. “Don't worry, dad. It'll all be fine. I've taken care of it, it's over.”

Ronan sighed, pausing to reflect on how Quincy was now the one trying to reassure him, instead of the other way around. It felt like only yesterday to him that he was holding her hand as she cried because she didn't want to go to preschool all day and leave her daddy. Much like his daughters special talent, time seemed to fly by for Ronan.

“Quincy, it'll never be over,” he took his free arm and squeezed his hand over her's. “Just be careful. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.” With a smile Ronan turned to leave the office, letting his daughter get back to her work. He knew she would think over his words and heed them, but it was a fact that he had yet to truly realize that Quincy was indeed her own woman now, and that he could not protect her forever.

He would be damned if he didn't try, though.  

With a heavy heart and a growing anger inside of him, Ronan made his way to his office, locking the door behind him. He did not want to be disturbed for this. The phone on his desk was as unassuming as one could be, yet the sight of it gave Ronan pause. Though he made sure to always know the number to call, he had prayed to never have to use it. The time now called for it, though, and he found himself thinking back to the last time he had seen his old friend before managing to pick up the phone.

Before he had been Rally he had been Daniel, a man that Ronan had found a kindred spirit in during his early days in America. The intelligence both of them shared, and the longing to change the world, brought them together in a way that kept them by each others side even as their values and morals shifted and changed. Nearly twenty-five years ago those changes became too much, though, and they had parted ways. Ronan had seen it coming for years before, but had clung to the hope he was mistaken and that his friend's behavior was only a side effect of his growing power.

“You're making a huge mistake, Ronan.” Daniel's back was facing the reservoir, the sun just beginning to peak its golden head from the far horizon. All around them was silence, the fading stars, and the tingle of electricity.

“I've got my family to think about, Daniel. And this...this isn't the way to do this. I can't – I won't help you. This is wrong.” The vial in Ronan's hand was warm from his palms, which were clutching it tightly. The liquid inside shone an unnatural silver when the last rays of the moon hit it, bouncing of its opalescent color.

“I could take it from you, you know.”

“We both know you can't do that. I could destroy it first.” The look on Daniel's face said it was true; it would only take a simple motion to smash the delicate phial, and he would not make it across the grass in time.

“This setback will be on your head, Ronan. Thousands of mutants will suffer because of your cowardice. It will be your fault.” His harsh voice filled the air, cursing his friend for his change of heart. The contents within the small vial emptied into the reservoir behind them could change so much; mutants may finally be able to fight back for their rights. It was all so close, nearly within his grasp to finally make a difference on a large scale. Yet it was not to be.

“I'll have to live with that. Good-bye, Daniel.” Ronan turned on the spot and walked away, leaving the other man to bathe in the rising sun. As he walked he could hear his voice calling out one last time.

“You can't hide forever! This isn't over, it never will be.”


The memory gave Ronan a chill, recalling the same words he had just spoken to Quincy. They had never truly left his mind. With the phone in his hand, he took a deep breath and placed the call. It rang harsh and unnerving into his ear three times before he heard the still familiar voice on the other end. “Daniel,” his greeting was not friendly, no hint of the years they had spent as close as brothers. All of that was gone to Ronan: history that needed no repeating.
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