A/N: Sorry this took so long! Between school and Fanfiction being a butt when I try to upload files, it took ALL MY STRENGTH to not just wait longer to do it. But here you go! Hope it was worth the wait.

Baki moved with purpose, only a fraction of his thoughts on his body and surroundings, while the rest sifted through the trappings of his mind. He met with an Anbu on the roof of the hospital, one who had been waiting for orders.

"First priority; fetch Hitoyane, Iru, and Otsu." Baki said as soon as he was close enough. "Second priority; increase the barrier around the hospital. If any of Foo's men try to come within a hundred yards block them."

He made sure to make eye contact through the white rings of the Anbu's mask.

"All methods are acceptable. Dismissed."

The Anbu bowed, then put his right fist over his left shoulder and disappeared in a puff of sand and smoke. Baki knew it would take some time to locate those members; Anbu didn't use identities when in uniform. They were organized by number.

He sat down, looking out at the prison. It seemed deceptively calm from that distance. The brightly colored flags played in the wind and outside, only a few yards away, brief glimpses of clothing could be seen as people were now allowed to move around again. Baki's mind turned again to the prison, the thought of Kankuro inside roiling around with how he spoke to Temari.

To abandon him right after losing your temper at Lin. Now who's to blame? Lin may have thrown him into that pit but now you're guarding the door.

He forced his eyes closed, forced the eye that could see the hospital to stop fueling him. He thought of the information Lin had revealed to him; then of Lin. That man always brought up bad memories. Not his experiences, but ones that affected him more than he cared to admit.

But it was the children that affected him the most. The Kazekage's children, that he was forced to inherit one cold winter morning. The Kazekage had been having fits. Erratic, seemingly nonsensical, orders were given out at that time. When Baki was called into an outdated meeting room through a haze of opium and squinted through a heavy shroud draped over the Kazekage, his stomach dropped.

"Yashamaru is dead."

He was wearing his official robes thrown over an outside coat and his eyes had deep red rims. He leaned slightly over, seemed slightly spent. The sheer curtain prevented most of the smoke from penetrating but it looked as though his own body was the real problem. And the opium was another alarm in Baki's mind. It's an old method of persuasion in their village; you offer it to your guests while you sat in your protective circle and watch them slowly uncoil toward your demands. Baki felt slightly betrayed to be in the same situation that had led to so many easy deaths and careless pacts, but kept a neutral face.

The Kazekage's words had little inflection, he could have been reading from a script. But he gulped hard after he said it, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. It occurred to Baki that he had either been crying or drunk. He wasn't sure which was more likely. Or worse.

Two pairs of eyes peered at Baki from the sidelines. An ornate brass bowl let loose a steady stream of smoke, just to the right of them. Temari and Kankuro stared stupidly at Baki, the struggle to regain focus obvious on the girl's face while the boy leaned far over, about to pass out at any given time. The third one, the youngest, was standing apart from the other two, on the other side of the Kazekage. His outdoor wraps pulled tight around narrow shoulders. His fists balled the fabric up and shoved it over his nose. His eyes were wide and red and he rocked back and forth, even as he stared at some indiscriminate spot on the floor. He made dry, gulping sounds occasionally. Baki's eyes darted to him every time he heard it.

At least the opium was helping to keep him disoriented, if not calm like the other two.

"But it's just as well. Temari's reached an apprentice age. So the duty of the children is passed to you."

Kankuro leaned over onto his sister's shoulder. They were both kneeling but he was laying behind her in the next moment, apparently asleep.

"You are to begin their tutelage into shinobi. It falls on you to maximize their potential."

Temari blinked slowly, first one eye and then the next. She breathed deeply through her mouth and smiled. Baki looked away from her with some difficulty.

"My Lord. Is there any way to limit my instruction to Temari? Kankuro is too young and…" He looked over to Gaara. The Kazekage never explicitly said that he would be included, which would have been rare; but he had kept him in the room with the rest of the family, which was just as unusual.

"They're not to be separated." Was his response. He was looking over at the two older children now, face set in hard, angry lines.

"Very well my Lord. When should I begin instruction?"

"A home is being prepared for you now. In one week you'll find them living there and you have until then to be moved in. You'll find the address outside."

It wasn't an official dismissal, but Baki knew what it meant. Still, he stared hard at the curve of his knee on the rug and thought of the best way to ask for clarification without risking the Kazekage's relatively new, explosive temper. He felt as though his bones were going soft and the room was heating up. He needed to stay focused.

"Will there be… Three children living in the new home? Or only two under my teaching?" He asked, glancing up to the Kazekage's shadowed form. In response, the Kazekage looked slowly over to Gaara, who still rocked and stared and gulped miserably. The man's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Only two children. It's your job to protect them, from any internal and external threats. But your main priority is to increase their abilities."

He turned his disgusted gaze in Baki's direction.

"Dismissed."

—

"Sir."

The Anbu landed, with three others slightly behind him. He knelt to one knee, expecting the dismissal.

"Good. Move on to the next priority."

He stretched his hand out and the Anbu disappeared. The other three didn't flinch as the wind and sand whipped quickly around them.

"You three are to accompany me to speak to Advisor Foo. After we speak, I want you to repeat the information to the runners directly under him."

The Anbu looked at him, waiting. One's eyes darted left and back again; a question.

"What?" Baki said, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Would you like us to repeat the information sir? All of it?"

"Yes. All of it this time:

There will be no bargaining for Kankuro. It has been made clear that his detainment is not a priority and that he will not be supervised until after the Kazekage stabilizes. Hitoyany, Iru, spread that information to those following the winter paths. Dismissed."

They vanished, leaving Otsu's thin brown hair tossed up into the wind. Baki addressed him with his shoulders tense, already turned in the correct direction for his next command.

"You are going to accompany me to speak with Advisor Foo. Lead me to him." Otsu stepped forward, his bear mask too faded to reflect the sunlight as he inclined his head to Baki.

"Follow me, sir." He leapt away. Baki felt himself slide into his element. He trained rigorously to keep in the same shape he needed to be when he began supervising the children and his muscles mirrored the man in front of him without flaw. His mind honed in on those subtle changes, those quick turns and long leaps. This was where he had spent his adolescence. This was where he shattered and then forged his identity. This was where he belonged.

—

Back in the Kazekage's room, the medical shinobi managed to connect him to a ventilator. Doctor Rittou had his hands on either side of the Kazekage's head, a soft green glow emulating from them. He looked up when Temari walked in, his creased expression lifting slightly.

"Lady Temari, he's been stabilized." His voice rose with pride, before dropping again as he continued speaking. "We haven't managed to get a fluid sample yet but scans indicate damage in his brainstem. Its hypothetical at this stage but the location of damage in the bottom hemisphere could possibly be localized to the reticular formation. That would explain his difficulties sleeping but not the migraines. More importantly, there have also been suggestions of damage to the thalamus. But we're going to have to investigate further before we're sure of-"

"Doctor Rittou." Temari said.

She had stopped near the door when he began speaking, noticing the sheen of sweat on his forehead and dilated pupils.

"I have no interest in speculations. When you know the extent of the damage relay those facts to me and nothing else. Understand?"

Doctor Rittou panted a few times, squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. His coat clung loosely to his back.

"Yes, Lady Temari. I apologize."

"Just don't spread hypotheticals around. We don't need any more tension."

"Yes Lady Teamri."

He lowered his eyes back to his patient, unconsciously drawing himself closer to the soft ring of green around the Kazekage's head.

The others followed, eyes to the ground. Temari watched Gaara struggle to regain consciousness, the ventilator's low thrum blowing what she could only assume was oxygen directly into Gaara's mouth. The thought of brain damage weighed heavily on her and she felt sick imagining how much more difficult it would be for her to deal with him. Guilt pricked her immediately for thinking that.

Suddenly Gaara coughed. A loud, wet sound as his chest heaved. Temari pulled her fan off her back, opening it by one dot. Doctor Rittou leaned forward more, slightly crouched, watching Gaara's coughing fit. His eyes narrowed. When it died down, a hoarse inhale followed. Gaara's eyes opened and, despite the chakra exhaustion, despite the familiarity of his sister's chakra, despite his numerous injuries, began to force himself into a sitting position. Doctor Rittou went to his side, palms outstretched, the healing glow dissipated. Gaara's bloodshot eyes rolled in his head, landing on the doctor over and over before darting away. As if he wanted to focus but an unseen force kept pulling his gaze in other directions. His arms shook terribly. He wheezed, one hand clutched against his throat. The other fisted into the blanket he lay on. The heart monitor was beeping frantically. The doctor's hands began glowed green again as he inched forward.

"Lady Temari. Calm him." He said in a low, hoarse voice as he slowly moved them onto either side of Gaara's head.

Temari stared at the doctor, mouth slightly open.

Calm him?

She hadn't been forced to calm Gaara since a month after the chunin exams and even then it felt like tiptoeing on broken glass. She lowered her fan, but not much.

"Gaara." She called shakily. He wheezed a bit louder, turning toward her as though made of sticks. "You need to calm down now, ok?" She continued, voice raising in pitch.

"The doctor is going to help you. I know you're probably confused but you made it into the hospital room. You made it so now we need to treat you. Lay back down, ok?"

He stared at her. Wild eyed and teeth grit. There was blood on them.

She had a flash of recognition. That was the Gaara she knew, the one she grew up with. She and Kankuro used to make bets with each other when they went under Baki's instruction and started living in the same house. They would bet on what set him off, what made him want to crush people like beetles. A way of laughing to avoid crying, to keep from clawing the curtains off the windows and screaming:

Look! Look! It's in here! We're still alive but it's in here with us!

She approached him slowly, feeling her stomach clench and sweat break out on the back of her neck. She still held her fan. Gaara didn't so much as glance at it.

"Lay down now ok?" She tried again, moving within a foot of his space. He opened his mouth a few times, coughed up specks of blood into his hand, then began to reach toward her face.

She jumped back, disgust in her eyes and her gritted teeth. He continued to reach for her, leaning toward her, as the doctor cupped his head on both sides. The sand on Gaara's body sliced through the clothes he wore with a gentle tearing sound and drifted towards her.

"Gaara, stop it." She backed up, his sand and his arm and his eyes following her, reaching for her.

"Gaara stop!" She screamed, eyes wide as she backed nearer to the wall.

Her fan clattered to the floor. His wrecked face leaned toward her, coming closer even as she backed away. His arm would touch her soon, the blood smear onto her face, into her eyes. He would never stop.

It stopped. His arm fell to his side and he wheezed, looking at her tiredly. His eyes slid closed, then with one final burst of dignity, managed to lower himself back down to the bed. Doctor Rittou continued to administer his jutsu even after the Kazekage was docile. One hand went to his patient's chest and intensified, the glow seeping into ribs. The doctor grit his teeth. He didn't look at Temari and she was grateful for it. It took her a long time, too long, to catch her breath and pick up her fan. She saw her fingers shake as she knelt down to grab it. She didn't cry, she wasn't the type, but humiliation rose to her face. When she spoke it was soft and almost self-conscious.

"I'm going to go check on the perimeter security. I give you authority over him while he sleeps so you'll be responsible for whatever happens. Understand?"

Doctor Rittou's mouth went tight.

"The chances of him surviving are low. Will I take responsibility for that?"

"Yes. It's your job to increase those chances."

"What about protection? You've left us very understaffed."

"You have authority to call on the genin stationed in this district. Take as many as you think is wise."

"Can I have proof of this authority?"

Temari slipped her hand into a side pocket, revealing a small blue paper. There was her family insignia printed in gold across it. She placed it onto the far edge of the bed, hands never making contact with the mattress. Doctor Rittou nodded without looking away from his patient.

"Thank you, Lady Temari. I shall do my best to recover him."

She watched him. The determination on his face as he bent over Gaara, the soft green glow he made surrounding Gaara's head like a bubble, the controlled fear that escaped him in a tight sphere. She felt gratitude breach the surface of her embarrassment. A slippery, rare thing that re-submerged almost instantly. It was the gratitude that he could do what she could not. She left the room with the air of someone wounded.