---------------
Daniel
And I'm hurtling down the Mountain road into town, not sure where I am, where I'm going. All I can hear is Jack's voice, casual and cautious, telling me that yes, he's known for months that my wife might be alive. And yes, he's not the only one; he brought Janet in on that disk from another reality. And the General.
I can understand Janet not saying anything. Jack outranks her, and she's been quietly worried about my health for months. If she didn't have proof Sha'uri was out there - and even I would say recorded info from another of the universe's infinite set of possibilities isn't proof, maybe strongly circumstantial evidence, but not proof - she wouldn't get my hopes up.
Though I think I do understand why she's been quietly pushing the Tok'ra for more info on the System Lords out there, any chance she gets. After all, they're the big spies, or so they tell us at every possible opportunity. If Amaunet's loose, shouldn't they know about it?
I can even understand Jack not saying anything. He's picked up my broken pieces way too many times, and given that whole mess with Kyra-Linnea... okay, maybe I didn't make the best decisions there. But we had no proof she was a killer. Not then. Innocent until proven guilty, anyone? Anyone?
It's General Hammond I can't figure out.
General being the operative word there, I suspect.
I thought he understood. I thought he cared about getting Sha'uri back.
I thought he cared about me....
And I guess he does, in his own way. I'm the archaeologist who opened the Stargate. I'm the linguist who can keep up with all the alien words and dialectal shifts from the scores of planets we've visited. I'm the anthropologist who can hack his way through the morass of words and actions to try and figure out what our allies really mean when they say they'll help us.
I'm the man he sent Jack to drag back, by my ankles if necessary, rather than leave me with my people and family. After he'd already called Jack's bluff that there were no survivors on Abydos with a bomb on the 'Gate ramp.
Jack didn't tell me about the bomb until much later.
Oh, Hammond has looked after me since I joined SG-1. I'm one of his people, so far as he's concerned. Like Sam. Someone who knows the scientific stuff and can usually be trusted to shoot in the right direction if ordered to do so. I think he even likes me. In a kind of paternal, I-command-you-follow, tolerating the scientific babble until I boil it down, way.
But he doesn't... rely on me.
I should have realized that after the NID made their move on Tessa and Kayla.
Hello? Archaeologist who survived the first eight years of his life in Muslim countries? Not to mention years spent in the Middle East, Central America, and other hotspots later. I know about kidnapping. There are things I could have told Hammond's daughter, and his grandkids. Ways I could have helped.
Some of them are damn vicious, too. Which would serve those NID bastards right.
He didn't ask.
He never really does. That's Jack's job. And Jack - well, Jack seems to think the worst I've seen of people didn't happen until after I met him.
Clue, Jack. Did you think I shot Ra's soldiers by pure, dumb luck?
I hate guns. I always will hate guns. I hate what they're meant for. I hate what they do to people.
But that wasn't the first time I'd used one.
Jack knows that. I think. But Hammond....
Hammond came in with whatever General West left in his files on me - I bet "clueless geek" sums them up nicely - and the knowledge I'd chosen to play dead and stay on an alien planet rather than come back like everybody had been ordered to. And I haven't exactly had a good track record of following orders since.
He tolerates it. He likes me, he definitely likes Jack, and as a good leader he can see we bring better results back to the SGC than either of us working alone. But he doesn't understand it.
How can you not understand my wife being left alone, abandoned in the clutches of her worst enemy-
I cut that thought off, stomping on the brakes before I hit seventy. I don't need the cops. I really don't.
Especially since I don't think I'm driving my car.
Let's see. Pickup truck, green, stray black baseball cap tucked behind the passenger seat in case we need to take Teal'c somewhere in a hurry-
Oh, Jack's going to be ticked.
I don't even remember picking his pocket.
It could be worse. I spent a lot of time in Cairo. Off-kilter as I feel right now, I could have hot-wired Jack's truck and never noticed. At least this way he'll get everything back in one piece.
I think.
Assuming I don't wrap it and me around a guardrail before I calm down.
I thought I was okay. I tried to get some work done. I did. I poked around some of the translation questions Sam left in my email, wondered why she'd left out the fact that she was obviously looking at pre-modern Japan, followed her computer trail back to Jack's computer files and found-
Found what Jack was probably talking to the general about. And it wasn't Amaunet.
Damn it. Damn it all to Sokar's shattered Netu. Can't they leave anything in my life alone?
And then I saw that pencil sketch of Sha'uri over my desk. And the walls crushed in, all those tons of stone between us and Earth's honest air, and I was drowning....
Help. I need help.
One-handed, I dial a number I know by heart.
"Hello?" An older woman's voice, warm, with an underlying hint of caution. Ariella.
"Mrs. Wolfe?" I'm not even sure what language I'm speaking. Doesn't matter; long as I stick to something out of Europe or Arabic, she'll keep up. "My wife. Michael. I need-"
"Daniel, where are you?"
German. Okay. I can do German. "Driving into town... somewhere...."
"Are you wounded?" Steel rings under the velvet of her voice, and I remember this is Archangel's mother. Once a spy in her own right, and about as harmless as fluff-covered razor blades. "Can you stop?"
"No, no, I took Jack's truck, he's probably looking for it. And me. I'm not hurt. Not where it bleeds. I-"
I hurt. Somewhere I didn't think I'd ever be hurt.
I thought General Hammond trusted me. I thought he wouldn't lie to me. I thought....
"Daniel. Listen to me." Look out, world, Ariella Coldsmith-Briggs is on the line. "You need to find sanctuary. Help is closer than you know, but you need to get off the road."
Right. Sanctuary. Where on Earth can I go that the whole SGC won't come crashing down on my head-
Oh.
But... if I do that to him... he was kind....
"Daniel, please!"
I can't hurt Ariella. I can't. "I know somewhere," I manage. "I'm going."
I give her the address, hang up, concentrate on picking my way through the city back toward the half-wild area I'm looking for. Some of the mountain's bones must have lodged under the earth, here; there's buildings backed up against thin forest, with lots of rocks visible even from the road.
I park the truck a block or two away, tuck my chin into my jacket and head past the garden. I don't want to be seen. I definitely don't want to be noticed.
The dojo feels different today.
I don't know what it is. There's always a sort of warmth around Kaoru. A feeling like resting next to a banked fire; cozy, lifesaving. The safest spot in the world... unless you choose to stir up trouble.
Kenshin is warm, too; but hotter, fiercer. Like a dragon, kept tame only by an act of will. A dragon he only let fly for a few moments, to chase Jack around the dojo as if it were child's play.
But today there's something else inside that innocuous door. Something there and not there, like moonlight wandering through clouds.
Whoever it is, I think they know I'm here. And I really don't care anymore.
I walk through the door. There's Kaoru, one hand pressed near her lips in shock as she sees me, Kenshin giving me a quiet, amethyst glance, and-
Tall, I register; my height, maybe an inch shorter. Dark hair that falls in bangs to either side of piercing blue eyes. Fingerless gloves are dark against his white trench coat, its long folds mostly concealing the dark silk fighting outfit... and the paired kodachi at his belt.
I've seen him before. In a photo, glimpsed by streetlight. Aoshi.
Aoshi, who knows Michael Archangel. Who looks Japanese, and yet not, almost like Kenshin does. Who... burns at me, the way Kenshin and Kaoru do... even though he's hid it, shattered it like moonlight on water to conceal himself....
And what comes out of my mouth shocks even me.
"Is this a safe-house, Himura-dono?"
In archaic Japanese.
"I fear... I need shelter for the night...."
I never realized someone so small could catch me as I fall.
---------------
Kenshin
I was not expecting this, that I was not.
"Daniel," I ask in English. "What has happened?"
He flinches. Flinches from the very sound of the words.
So....
Daniel is a linguist. Words serve him as blades in his hand, to defend or slay. For a man to flinch from the weapon of his heart-
Something terrible has happened.
"Daniel-san." Japanese will do for the both of us, distracting him from the bleeding of his soul. "Daniel-kun. You are safe here. I swear it."
Behind glass, blue eyes blink at me as if I was a summer mirage. "Himura... Battousai?"
Well.
"He knows?" Aoshi Shinomori asks coolly.
"I've been hearing that name quite often of late, that I have," I admit.
"You'd think Saitou was in town." Kaoru scowls, swinging her bokken onto her shoulder. "Who did this to you?"
"No time," I say swiftly. The tone, the accent, the shake of a soul stressed to its limit; it is as if the Bakumatsu breathed anew in this room. All that is missing is the scent of blood. "How close are they behind you?"
Metal jingles between his fingers; car keys. "I'm - not sure," he stammers. "Jack won't look for these until he realizes I'm gone, but... maybe half an hour?"
Enough time, then. I snatch the keys from his fingers, toss them to Kaoru in a glittering arc. "Call Ryan. What is borrowed should be returned...."
"But not here," Aoshi cautions.
"Of course not." She grants us a tanuki's grin, mischief sparkling in blue eyes. "The library?"
We nod, and I turn my attention toward guiding Daniel toward a door most of our students have no idea exists.
"You've been around onmitsu too long," Aoshi murmurs, scanning the subtle hideaways and telltales Kaoru and I have built into this place over the past year. "What would bushido say?"
"The philosophy of Kamiya Kasshin has little to do with bushido. Hiten Mitsurugi, even less." He knows this well enough. So why...?
Ah. Our silent refugee. Who looks altogether too much as if all he might want in this world is a good reason to die. "She would want you to live, Daniel," I assure him, leading him out the back toward the safe refuge of tree and rock. "Whatever has happened, she would want that."
"I know she does."
"Does?" Aoshi asks sharply, closing the concealed door behind us.
Does, indeed. Aoshi had thought Daniel a widower, as I had until O'Neill's reaction betrayed otherwise. "Later," I warn, extending my senses to be sure we are unwatched. The web of small lives in this patch of wilderness flexes at our presence; some only responding to human threat, a few of the wiser creatures sensing we are more than that. I hear the feather-whisper of cardinals hopping through trees, the gurgle of the small stream that runs off the stony hill, the throaty rumble of an engine as Kaoru backs out O'Neill's pickup to leave it safely elsewhere.
And I hear Daniel's steps beside me as we make our way past the screen of trees and into shielding rocks. He's quiet, but no match for Aoshi's stealth, or my own.
I sense Aoshi drop back behind us, carefully erasing Daniel's trail. Good.
I do not know if our precautions are needed. I pray they are not. Whatever differences exist between Daniel and O'Neill now, they are friends. Family.
Yet it is the strongest tie that can cloak the bitterest betrayal. This I know all too well.
The line between the darkest hate and the deepest love is as thin as rice paper.
But this is not the Bakumatsu, and if Fate is kind, Daniel and O'Neill will not be to each other as my love Tomoe and her brother Enishi.
I recall their faces, even now. Dark-eyed Tomoe, with her endless reserve, who sought me out to slay the Hitokiri Battousai, as I had slain her fiancé. And wild-eyed Enishi, who consorted with ninjas and traitors to win his sister back from her husband, the apothecary Himura Kenshin...
The assassin, Himura Battousai...
Only to see her die by my blinded hand.
It took years and Kaoru's love for me to realize the blame was not mine. I did not start the revolt, though I did work to finish it. I did not drive the Shogunate to use a grieving woman's need for vengeance against us both, though I did take the life that caused that grief. I did not strike to end Tomoe's life....
I struck to save her.
Three onmitsu had I battled since dawn of that dread day, and the fourth I knew would have my life if the battle dragged on. I could not see, could not hear, could not sense; I only felt the bite of steel, the impact of armored fists, the drain of strength as my blood stained the freezing snow. I only knew Tomoe was here, somewhere, in the hands of my enemies.
And so I gave my life up to Fate, and risked everything I was on one last, blind strike.
Tomoe. I tried to protect you....
Hiten Mitsurugi is a true satsujin-ken. The skilled practitioner can slay three in one blow. Two is... easy.
Even had I failed, even had I been taken... the Oniwabanshu could not have let her live. The government's honor demanded my blood, the blood of the assassin who had breathed fear among them like smoke. It demanded my head, preferably still attached to my body for a formal execution, and all of me torn and dead in the streets of Kyoto. And it demanded that death come at the hands of one who upheld the Tokugawa regime, body and soul, with its rigid places for class, sex, and profession.
A woman, slay the Battousai? Impossible. The government's honor could not have borne such a stain.
The way we are taking opens out into a rough clearing; half-ringed by forest, the rest backed up against a small granite cliff. Aoshi looks it over, nods approval as his eyes catch the minute signs of the path I've carved there for searching hands. I will not be forced back against a wall. Not in my own practice grounds.
Daniel steps away from me, frowning over a few bits of shattered rock along one edge of the trees. Picks up one shard in particular, a bit of glittering white quartz, carefully testing the fresh edges of the break on the side of one finger. Lays it back in place, touching the fragments around it, tracing the path of destruction back and to one side.
A small smile touches Aoshi's face as he watches Daniel work. He folds his arms, waiting patiently.
On most days I can be more patient than Aoshi. If not half so coolly unconcerned. But now... what is Daniel doing?
Daniel steps back, hand stretched out and level. Swings his arm in an arc. Frowns at the rock, and changes the angle of his arm ever so slightly, this time sweeping from low to slightly up.
As my sword swept, not two days before. Is he... can he truly see what has happened here? From so little?
"It wasn't an explosion," Daniel says thoughtfully. "The way the rocks are broken, along their weaknesses - the force came from above, and swept this way. It must have been incredibly fast-" He stops. Turns. Looks at me, eyes widening.
I smile. And shrug.
"Do Ryuu Sen," Aoshi says, coolly amused. "Bring enough trouble to Himura's doorstep, Jackson, and you are likely to see it yourself." His voice softens, iron instead of steel. "Does, then? Your wife is alive?"
Daniel meets him glance to narrowed glance. I feel his ki try to brush Aoshi's, reading what little anyone can of a ninja's emotions. "You're not surprised."
"Not wholly, no."
"O'Neill stopped for conversation with me, the day after your gaki was slain," I say evenly. "I caught him off-guard with a question. He did not answer, but his reaction hinted she might be yet among the living. I advised him to leave off deception, that I did." Did he? I do not dare to ask. So fragile, the peace here. So deeply scarred the man before me, who needs it as flowers do spring rain.
"He did. And didn't." Daniel draws a ragged breath. "He knows who you are."
I feel my smile turn wry. "So I have heard, yes."
"He knows and he didn't tell me." Daniel's hands grip each other; he forces his eyes off them, up to mine. "But... I think he told the general. And if... General Hammond believes him, if they really dig into the source material and look at who Battousai was... you have to go. You have to get out of here...."
Oh, young one. Even in the midst of your pain, you try to help me.
"You should consider it, Kenshin," Aoshi says neutrally. "Move Kaoru's dojo. Move Sagara and the Takanis with you; the fox can doctor anywhere, and Sanosuke's never been one to build his house on a volcano. Mika and her cub will be harder to pry loose from this territory, but I know you. You can take them by the scruff of their necks, if necessary. What you saw under that mountain tallies all too well with what my people have gathered of the oddness here. There's no shame in running from what can't be fought."
"We do not know this cannot be fought; that we don't." I shake my head. "I have walked in danger before. As have we all."
"You don't understand!" Daniel's knuckles clench white. "If the general knows... there are people who can get information from - where I work. They've tried to take Teal'c before. They tried to take Sam when she had something they thought they could use. Gods, they even picked up Hammond's granddaughters once to get him to do what they wanted...."
"Did they." I hear the chill in my voice as Battousai rouses with a snarl. "Tell me."
Daniel meets my gaze. Swallows.
Stands his ground, and lays out the tale of politics and threats in shadowed daylight, and a general restored to his leadership only by O'Neill's own shadowy dealings. Brave man.
Brave as they are cowards, that dark part of my soul growls. Threatening children. They should die, without even the chance to scream.
No. Calm. Calm. Remember Sanosuke's laugh, Megumi's vixen giggle, Kaoru's smile as she welcomes you into the circle of her arms....
Calm. And think. Their mother has not asked for my protection.
Yet if Hammond has been as secretive with his daughter as he has Daniel, she may not even know their danger.
"So if they'd do that to him-" Daniel sums up.
"They might try to strike at me. Or those I hold close." In which case, the sternest law would declare my actions justified.
I feel my eyes burn amber.
I love Kaoru. I love peace, and my garden, and making small remedies for the folk about me. I am happy to live in a world and place where one can walk down the streets and reasonably expect not to be slaughtered for a stray glance. And yet....
There is part of me that cannot rest without the thrill of steel. Without the bittersweet knowledge that I am alive, and my enemies are dead.
"Try," Aoshi repeats dryly. "And fail. You'll be careful?"
"Aa," I nod. Indeed I will. I will not cause my family to mourn me. Not for arrogant cowards such as this. "Yet it would be easier if I knew what they might know of me."
"Not much." The first, weary trace of humor ghosts a smile over Daniel's face. He finds a bit of boulder I have left intact, settles down with a thoughtful look. "I kind of - ah - redirected a few of Sam's files before I left, that should keep her out of the more solid sources for a while... mostly they've just tracked down Kamiya Kasshin history. It's got most of the few English-language references to Hitokiri Battousai that exist; pretty much just that you were real, and sort of sanctioned, and gave up killing after the war. Oh - and that you weren't seven feet tall, no matter what anybody says."
That tiny curve of Aoshi's lips just might be a smirk.
"After that you start getting into Bakumatsu history in general, and Kyoto history in specific. There's a pretty good description of you from a city samurai who got caught up in the middle of some ambush going after Katsura Kogoro."
"Which one?" Aoshi murmurs. Ah, yes. Just the least hint of a smirk. Not that it surprises me; the Oniwabanshu had set up many of those ambushes, one way or another.
Daniel pauses. "Er, night? Shinsengumi? Torch-carrying mobs?"
I can think of a dozen instances that might fit. Easily.
Daniel reads that in my gaze, and purses lips in a silent whistle. "Wow. And I thought Jack was kidding about people having a hard time telling fights apart." Blue eyes half-close, recalling what he's found. "A few days after O'Bon, when Mt. Diamonji blazed with its Kanji, he was returning home from a grave visit... he turned down the wrong street and just about got run over by the Ishin Shishi."
That I do remember. That was shortly after I returned to Kyoto, after Tomoe had....
Well.
"He saw two bodies already lying in the street, and a flash of red that wasn't blood soar into the air. The assassin cut down a third Shinsengumi with one downward stroke, slashing backward with his wakazashi to block another's katana even as he struck up again..."
I remember. I remember the breath of swords passing near, the hot reek of blood as I beheaded the fourth of my enemies in as many strikes. I remember the thrum of controlled panic, knowing there was a second squad heading for my fellow patriots as they fled; a squad they could elude with a minimum of casualties, but only if I bought enough time here....
And I remember an elderly samurai, more scribe than anything else by the ink staining his fingers, staring, frozen by one glance of amber eyes.
He was not my enemy.
But he was in my way.
I recall sheathing my blade, and leaping. One swift blow with a saya, and he was down.
"Next thing he knew a brave shopkeeper was splashing water on his face, exclaiming there wasn't a mark on him." Daniel shrugs. "There's a few more bits like that, but for anything solid, they'd have to go back and search Japanese historical documents directly. But first they'd have to find them, and I don't think they're going to unkink what I did to Sam's search engine in a hurry...."
And I laugh.
Daniel blinks at me, surprised. "What?"
"And people think you are dangerous," Aoshi says to me wryly. Looks aside, toward the trees, and a limping ki almost cloaked by a feel of snowfall and sky. "I see why you favor this one, Michael."
"Michael?" Daniel breathes. Stands, as if he too can sense the man's approach. And perhaps he can.
That is Michael? From what little Aoshi had told me, I had thought his American counterpart purely human. And this man feels of spirit blood.
Recently gained, I realize as the white-suited blond comes into sight, sensing the still-unsettled energies about him, the bright newness that feels of fur and feathers and boundless curiosity. He likely does not even yet know the very taste of his blood has changed....
Though if Sanosuke and Megumi are to be believed, most ordinary humans do not enjoy the taste of blood. Even their mate's, shed in love instead of battle. Nor can they feel the nurturing warmth when their chosen one suckles crimson in return.
Megumi was fortunate. Sano's rough life and love of her made him willing to discover what a kitsune-hanyou needed to be happy.
Mika... was not so lucky. For all his tolerance, Russell O'Connell was at heart a man of his faith. And Catholics have very firm ideas on the place of blood.
I hope her next love is more open to what we are.
Ryan may already be more fortunate. Kaoru says Mel seemed startled by the idea of being bitten, but not afraid.
And Michael may be fortunate as well. The blacked lens of his glasses warns any with eyes that here is one who has seen deadly danger; that sheathed sword within his cane likewise speaks of his violent answer to it.
I will speak with him later, that I will. For now, I have more concern for the young spirit who has woven her magic with his. Hello, little cub.
Surprise. Wary wonder. The shimmer near the hem of Michael's white trench coat strengthens, touching the outermost edge of my ki with its own; like a wolf cub, delicately sniffing something new and strange.
Smoothly, I go to one knee. Hold out a welcoming hand. Calm myself, and wait.
"Kenshin?" Daniel looks where I am looking, yet I sense he cannot see what I see. Not yet. "What's going on?"
"Shh. Do not startle the little one." It's all right. I mean no harm....
The shimmer firms, leaps-
And I am most thoroughly sniffed and snuffled, misty paws catching on my gi, spirit-feathers brushing my hair like snowflakes. Amber eyes stare into mine, full of wonder, glee, mischief-
And within that brightness, the razor edge of ready claws.
I smile at the young spirit-wolf, violet reclaiming my gaze. "And what are you called, cub?"
Sniff. Lick. White fur pulls back at the unexpected taste. Ryuu!
"Dragon?" Michael's voice is level as Aoshi's, but there is a certain dawning worry one can read off even the most controlled of ninjas.
I tap her dark nose, just as I would one of Megumi's wayward kits. "You, not I."
Hesitation. ...Tenshi?
"Angel?" I smile. "Well. And you must be quite the handful, little one."
"Angel? Who or what is-" Daniel cuts himself off. "Michael?"
The man in white winces slightly. "It's a very long story. Daniel - what in the world are you doing here?" He measures Aoshi with a frank gaze. "Not that I'm objecting to your present company, it shows excellent taste. Still...."
Daniel shrugs, a slight shift of shoulders that aches at my heart. "I couldn't breathe."
---------------
Teal'c
I am a valued member of SG-1. I was First Prime of Apophis. I have dedicated decades to calm, control, and the mastery of weapons, strategy and tactics, so that I might one day wreak vengeance on Cronus and free my people from the tyranny of the Goa'uld. In all that time, I have rarely desired to throttle a superior officer.
"Sha'uri's alive?" Samantha Carter yelps, fingers clenching on the armrest of the jeep we have borrowed from the SGC motor pool. "And you didn't tell us?"
This has become one of those rare times.
"Might be alive, Carter," O'Neill says grimly as he drives. "Might be."
"Don't give me that, sir! Amaunet's supposed to be one of the Ogdoad. One of the original eight deities present at the time of creation, as the Egyptians wrote it down, which means she's been around longer than Apophis. Of all the Goa'uld we've met, she's the slipperiest, most deceptive, most dedicated to long-range plans. If she kidnapped Shifu and the Abydonians just for a diversion, then pulled off a switch right under our noses - she's out there." She pounds the armrest. "And you didn't tell us-"
"General's call, Major. He didn't want Daniel distracted."
"Distracted?!"
Seated in the back, I arch an eyebrow. O'Neill may not see it, but I know such a warrior as he will sense it. General Hammond's orders or not, O'Neill has done us all a great disservice. Were a Jaffa in the barracks to deceive his comrades in such a manner, they might justly challenge him to combat.
Fortunately, we are not on Chulak.
"Hammond was worried the NID might get smart," O'Neill says grimly. "They went after him; he's betting they're trying some of the same stuff on our lower and mid-level people. If we admitted Sha'uri was alive, they might use her as a wedge to get Daniel off the team. We reported Amaunet was dead. If she's alive, it's because we let her walk out of there - and if Daniel let a System Lord walk, they can yank him out as a traitor. "
"None of which is going to matter if he decides he's had it and just leaves, is it, sir."
Indeed. "The library," I rumble.
And there is O'Neill's truck, parked and abandoned much where Daniel Jackson would leave it. "I shall search within the shelves," I state, reaching forward as Samantha Carter prepares to open her door.
"Stacks, T. They're called stacks. And hold up." O'Neill studies the truck. What is it that he sees? No one could remain hidden in that cage of steel. "Let's take a look."
Spare keys in hand, he circles the green truck, wary as if he approached a mined trail. Circles again, and stops by the driver's door. "Hello."
"Sir?"
O'Neill points. "See where that seat is?"
"Oh." Samantha Carter frowns. "Uh-oh."
I peer through the glass myself, wondering what it is they see. The chair which holds the driver is oddly forward; with such small space left for long legs, Daniel Jackson would be hard-pressed to fit within.
Which argues that he did not.
O'Neill opens the door. Takes a breath of the warm air trapped within.
I taste it as well. The scent is faint, but present. A perfume of Earth, delicate and unyielding at once. Jasmine.
"Kamiya," O'Neill declares. "Daniel didn't drive here at all."
"Kaoru?" Samantha Carter's eyes widen. "But sir, if we're right... if Daniel followed my computer trail back to what we found on Kyoto...."
"Why would he go to a 19th century assassin?" O'Neill's tone darkens. "If you're right about why he bolted, Carter - Battousai told me he didn't lie to Daniel."
Samantha Carter pales. "You think Daniel knew?"
"I don't know what to think."
Nor do I, as we reclaim the jeep and make our way through various streets toward a ridge of stone and trees. So this is the dojo I have not yet visited. An odd structure, not like most Tau'ri buildings....
And I pause outside the shadows of those walls. "O'Neill." How could you have missed this?
"I haven't been here in daylight." But there is no excuse in his voice. The marks are subtle, but there. The angle of walls to the road. The lack of any aboveground power or phone lines. The gravel ringing the building itself, subtle alarm for those crucial moments before an intruder might reach the door. The way trees and shrubs have been planted and trimmed so the dojo is screened, yet one hiding on the roof might have a clear view of all approaches....
This is no simple place to train and exercise. This is a fortress.
"Oh, hell," Major Carter breathes.
"Yep." O'Neill's voice is grim. "Once a guerilla, always a guerilla."
---------------
Kaoru
Giggling probably isn't a good idea right now.
But kami, it's tempting.
I stroke ink across white paper, shaping the smooth curve of a wave coming in to San Francisco's rocky shore. It took me a long time to develop anywhere near Grandpa Kamiya's talent at ink painting, but I'm not half bad by now. Kenshin says they're lovely.
This from the guy whose handwriting still looks like someone let a raccoon loose with an ink brush.
Anyway, I'm not bad, and there is a small market for oriental art these days. Enough so we can sleep easy at night. Teaching self-defense is enough to scrape by on, but it's always good to have some reserves. Katanas are not cheap.
Something the three hesitant sets of footsteps on gravel outside probably aren't thinking of at all, right now.
I may not have Kenshin's ability to read ki like a well-thumbed book, but after so long living with swords, I can get flickers of it. Worry, caution, anger... oh, they're wound up like clocks.
Serves them right.
Back to the door, I cap my ink, rinse out my brush, and wait.
More gravel crunching. Not loud, but not as quiet as they probably could be if they tried. So they're not trying to sneak up on me. Good. "The door's unlocked."
Gravel goes quiet. Caution morphs into determination, and the door swings open.
"Good afternoon, Colonel."
And I hear the soft intakes of breath behind me, and stifle a grin. It must be the colonel after all. Kenshin taught me that trick a while ago; use your senses and best guess to picture what you can't see, and speak as if you never doubted it was true. Odds are you'll throw your enemy completely off-balance.
Careful, Kaoru, I warn myself. First blood counts, but last blood is what matters.
---------------
Jack
I'm in trouble.
Serious trouble. Big trouble; the kind that carries a Jaffa-sized grudge and all the razor wit of a mind that outthought a black hole. Team-threatening trouble, that's led Daniel to bolt and Carter and Teal'c to train glares on my back like laser-guided missiles.
But I've been in trouble with my team before, thanks to the general's orders to go solo undercover to flush out SGC traitors, and we all got over it. Mostly. Took Daniel a while to let that "our friendship had no foundation" bit go.
Or maybe he never really did. 'Cause when Kaoru turns toward us, I see the same kind of angry, protective look Catherine Langford used on some archaeologists who were busy slaughtering Daniel's professional reputation in her earshot.
Yep, I'm in trouble.
And worse trouble than I thought even on the way over here, because now that I'm looking, I can see this dojo's even nastier on the inside than the outside.
High ceilings. A few subtle nooks and crannies in out-of-the-way places, just right to hide daggers, staffs, and maybe the odd sword. Walls that are almost too regularly set for a building like this; hiding places and passages, anybody? Niches that just about beg for you to stick your hand in - meaning that's probably the worst thing you could do if you like your fingers in one piece. And something like a hundred ways to get out of here, a lot of which your average guy couldn't possibly reach... not unless he can clear ten feet in an easy leap.
Like, say, Himura.
Can we say deathtrap?
So I swallow the snarky remarks about, Nice of you to move my truck, or, Can I have my keys back now? "Is Daniel okay?"
Blue eyes narrow a little, and I hide a wince. I forget sometimes how good Daniel is at connecting with people. He's our translator, negotiator, guy who can get people who hate each other to sit down and at least think about the other guy's point of view. People who don't know Daniel from Adam have been known to break customs, taboos, and some pretty serious laws to make sure the guy comes out in one piece. People who do know him, and like him - hell, they've started revolutions for less.
Kamiya lets me sweat a breath longer. Says something short and pointed in Japanese.
"Um?" I spread questioning hands. See? No guns. I just want answers. Now.
"He's alive," she growls. "He's not injured." Her hand's not on the bokken at her hip, but it's close. "And he's not here."
---------------
Michael Archangel
"...And that, to the best of my knowledge, is what's been happening under Cheyenne Mountain," I finish, hands braced on the silver head of my cane.
Daniel's sitting on his rock, pale as snow. Aoshi is... very slightly unsettled, by the look of him. Which means a less controlled man would be either shaking, or shouting denials at the universe. And Kenshin-
"Oro?" Violet eyes are wide as saucers as Himura scratches behind the snowy ears of Airwolf's tulpa form.
Well, that's interesting. I've managed to startle a century-and-a-half old ex-assassin. Not that this is what I would generally call a welcome event.
Certainly not while I'm trying to come to grips with several rather shocking pieces of information myself. Sha'uri, the woman I know Daniel loves beyond language itself, alive....
Target? Airwolf slips in calmly.
No. I'm not going to shoot O'Neill. Or Hammond. No matter how much I might want to.
The SGC is currently in control of the Stargate. If a rather tenuous control, given what the NID's managed to do, unopposed by the channels that should rein people like Kinsey and Maybourne in. Hammond has been a good commander, protecting our planet with all the resources he's been granted access to and a few he's managed to snag when no one was looking. And if the man caved when his family was threatened... we all have our breaking point. Believe me, I know.
But to leave the leader of the Abydonian resistance to Ra in enemy hands, no matter how thin the evidence for her survival....
And none of that holds a candle to the fact that once again, O'Neill and Hammond have hurt my agent. My eyes and ears within the SGC. My fragile connection to Judith Williams, now host to the Tok'ra Mairin, as she burrows into Goa'uld society to determine just how the SGC can hit them where it really hurts. My finger on the pulse of the alien threats lurking too near in space, who just might be able to warn me of an incoming invasion in time for me to do something about it.
The man who - if circumstances had been kinder - might have been my little brother....
Stop. Think of something else.
It's not hard. Himura's been around since the 1860's?
Which leads me to wonder exactly how old Aoshi Shinomori is. Oh, I knew he and his wife Misao's files had been - shall we say, amended? It's not uncommon in my world. None of my files tell the whole truth, either.
But if he's managed to hide this about Himura... my, my.
Not that most people look all that closely at Kenshin. He's a sanctuary, not an operative; he takes people in, heals them, watches over them until they're well enough to face the world again. And I, being a rather sane and sensible spymaster who's seen what happens when undercover people go off the deep end, have no desire to trifle with a sanctuary.
Certainly not after the man very politely left a few of my less scrupulous agents tangled in fire escapes and nursing bruises after he caught them stalking some of Kaoru's pupils. Students who weren't in and of themselves important, but might have provided biographic leverage on those who were.
Such a nice name for blackmail, that.
By the standards of my business, Himura is extremely polite, sane, sensible, and trustworthy. He doesn't judge us for what we do. He doesn't involve the cops unless someone's being very stupid. And he usually leaves you alive to learn from your mistakes.
Outside of one very memorable incident in upper New York State in the early '70's, when he, his wife, and an unknown number of friends, one of whom I know was Aoshi, burned an entire Illuminati mansion and its private science facility to the ground. Dead bodies all over the place.
I think the local cops still twitch when you mention the word "katana".
Not that I can blame the man. Our files also include a missing persons report filed by a young lady by the name of Jocelin Shaw on one Kanaye Himura, a few days before the incident... and a short note that he was cremated with family in attendance a day after it.
Kenshin has no tolerance for people who touch his children.
And that was in the '70's. Which means I should have noticed something was amiss with dates and ages the moment I read that file. Or at the very least, the moment I met Shinomori.
I didn't. Nor has anyone I've ever spoken to about Aoshi, or anyone associated with the Himuras. Which is very odd indeed.
Though, on consideration, no odder than the fact that Himura can apparently walk down any street wearing that sakabatou and not get picked up by the cops. As he does. Frequently.
And on further consideration, no odder than the fact that Detective Jack Breslin and Santini Air have been foci for a great deal of Los Angeles weirdness, up to and including explosions, yet draw no more attention than "normal" detectives and odd-job airlines. Or that the vast majority of the world still seems quite convinced that gargoyles are nothing but New York media hysteria, giant mutations are always found anywhere but your backyard, and the Hivemind invasion really was just a series of disconnected terrorist acts.
As Dominic would say, Uh-huh. Sure. You keep thinkin' that.
Marella calls it the Somebody Else's Problem effect; after something out of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker books, I think. Apparently massive concentrations of psychokinetic energy make it easier than usual for most people's minds to edit reality. The 23rd precinct in New York has that level of PKE, as does H.E.A.T. headquarters on Staten Island, certain areas in Chicago, my facilities at Knightsbridge, and Hawke's cabin at Eagle Lake. And Airwolf herself carries an incredible charge... which may be the main reason that, despite all evidence to the contrary, most people still can't connect Stringfellow Hawke with one stolen, high-tech helicopter.
Airwolf's tulpa isn't the only massive concentration of PKE in this clearing. Himura glows with it.
Flame-red hair, a delicate frame that's pure whipcord muscle, violet eyes that for all their calm remind me of the afterglow of lightning strikes. It's as if he's fire made flesh and bone, a thunderstorm condensed to walk Earth on silent sandals.
Dragon, Airwolf says firmly, amber eyes half-closed as she bumps up against Kenshin's arm for more petting.
I believe you, Angel. But is that safe?
Calm. Mostly. Airwolf shrugs her wings, evidently no more worried about what Himura might do than she would be about Hawke wielding a wrench near her delicate electronics. Warm.
"Okay," Daniel says finally, walking over to where Himura half-kneels on the ground. "What do you three see that I don't?"
"If you believe you don't see it, you won't," Shinomori says flatly.
Daniel gives him a look. Aoshi doesn't so much as flinch.
"Gently, gently," Kenshin murmurs. "He's young, Aoshi, that he is. And not used to kami." The swordsman holds out a hand. "I do not know if your sense of ki is strong enough yet... but try."
Daniel bites his lip. Places his fingers under Himura's, letting Kenshin lower both their hands toward white fur.
Touches an ear, and starts as if Airwolf's shocked him. "What the-"
"Angel," I say matter-of-factly. "She's a protective spirit. Very protective, as you saw with Anise. I owe her my survival, many times." Not to mention my sanity. And Hawke's.
"Anise." Daniel casts a startled glance at me, hand still hovering over fur he can just barely touch. "That's how your knife-"
"Yes." It's how I left a Tok'ra dazed and bleeding, when their healing abilities should have closed a stab through the hand within minutes. Airwolf sensed Anise's threat and struck through me, aiming rage and love like a diamond knife.
On the one hand, I'm glad Airwolf protected me. Ribbon devices can kill in seconds. On the other, I know I left O'Neill with far too many questions as to precisely how I managed that blow; questions I have no intention of answering. Human empaths are a Goa'uld bogeyman, something that they believe used to exist, but no longer worries them. And I plan to keep it that way as long as possible.
"It is not unheard of, focusing ki into a weapon," Kenshin observes. "Quite common, in ancient kenjutsu."
"I have an amateur's love of the blade, no more," I say firmly. I am rather good with a sword, even though I've lost binocular vision. But there's a world of difference between good and master of kenjutsu. I have no illusions as to what would happen if I were so idiotic as to attack Himura or Shinomori. None at all.
"It is also," Aoshi says coolly, "Known among onmitsu."
"I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a blade of grass," I shrug. Though Firm training does have quite a bit in common.
Grass? Airwolf tilts her head at me.
"A term ninjas sometimes use," I fill in. Bethancourt's databases may have copious descriptions of enemy fighters and paranormal creatures, but I doubt ancient ninja techniques were part of her programming.
"You don't just see her, you hear her," Daniel says thoughtfully. "She's... from this world?"
"Oh yes," I say softly. "I know when she was created. Almost to the hour."
Aoshi's brow twitches at created, and I know I've just opened another can of worms. So be it. He's going to be letting my experts at the Hivemind wreckage found off Japan, so we can be sure there are no mind-warping traps laid in there like the one that caught Drs. Hoffman and Sopler. I may as well ask him for an information exchange on kami in the bargain.
Ki focus = PKE projection = bite?
"In a sense, little one," Kenshin nods. "Some focus their power into weapons, or stealth. Yours...." His gaze falls on me. "I will not ask. Though it feels of storm, and metal, and swiftness." A smile lights his eyes as he turns back toward Daniel. "And some, while no swordsmen, find the strength of their ki in the words that move men's hearts, creating solutions not even the strongest blade can carve from life."
"I'm that bad, huh?" Daniel mutters wryly.
"It is the calm and insight the training brings that you need, not the blade-skill itself," Kenshin says firmly. "Do you truly wish to be a kenshi?"
"No," Daniel says after a minute to think. "Not really. I mean, when it comes down to it, we're usually using guns." He looks away.
Oh, Daniel. There isn't a being in this clearing who would fault you for defending yourself or your team. Any way you had to.
"Then come to the bokken for peace." Violet is warm, welcoming. "Kaoru is glad to have students who know they can do harm - but truly do not wish to."
"Peace." Daniel looks back down the way they must have come in, shakes his head.
I know what he's thinking. Would that I didn't. "I don't have any good answers for you." I try to keep my voice level, free of condemnation. "In his defense, I will say that the colonel's usual routes of appeal to deal with situations like the NID have been neatly pinched off."
I stalk the clearing, needing to move. Standing too long aches at a knee rebuilt through more surgery than I like to remember. "Ordinarily O'Neill would go through Hammond - who, as you've mentioned, has already been effectively silenced. He might go to the Pentagon, yet due to the SGC's highly classified nature, the personnel he can speak to are limited. Those he can reach seem rather firmly in bed with the overt arm of the NID and doggedly determined to ignore its so-called 'rogue' elements. And his ties to any form of civilian authority are incredibly weak; son deceased, his ex-wife has moved on with her life, and all those he has a real attachment to," chiefly Daniel and Cassandra Fraiser, sweet little teenager from another planet that she is, "Are directly or indirectly part of the SGC. Whom the NID is threatening to take over, one way or another. Under those circumstances the colonel's likely fallen into the mindset of a covert operative in enemy territory; give no one any more information than absolutely necessary, in case your enemies seize them." I hold up a hand as Daniel throws me an angry glare. Good. Be angry. God, Daniel, you have to get angry at someone. "It's not an excuse, it's a reason. I do not condone his behavior. If he were one of mine, I'd have pulled him out for a breather and refresher courses ages ago. But he's not, and I can't." I steady myself. "But I can pull you out. If that's what you want."
"What I want?" Blue is very wide behind glass. "What I want... has nothing to do with it."
Aoshi hmphs. "What you want has everything to do with it."
So Shinomori's made up his mind. I rest my hands on my cane. Out of the corner of my eye I note Kenshin being particularly quiet, unwilling to tip the precarious balance among two professional spies and one amateur. But in whose favor?
"Shinnen," the ninja says coolly. "It is the only way you will prevail."
??? Airwolf nudges me.
Strong spirit, Angel. I'm not a linguist, but I do my best. Unwavering determination. The pure conviction that not only do you have the right to be on the path you have chosen, but you have the moral obligation and responsibility to do so, as part of something greater than yourself.
I feel her poke and prod that concept, matching it against her basic programming and the more complex network of associations she's created through the years with us. Mission statement, she decides, a glint of fang in my mind's eye. Hawke/Dominic/Caitlin/Michael Archangel mine. Mission parameters go/no-go.
That's... not a bad concept match. For us, for my missions, Airwolf will move heaven and earth. Anything else is taken on a case-by-case basis, always subject to reconsideration if it threatens her parameters of self and pilot preservation.
Of all the creatures in this clearing, she may be the closest to samurai.
"Decide your path, and walk it," Aoshi states. "If your heart is divided, you can defend no one. Not even yourself."
And I try not to sigh in relief.
Shinomori's decided to work with me. For now.
Which means the next few weeks, at the least, will be very busy. I'll need to re-juggle Washington meetings, authorize the release of certain documents to Japanese intelligence through deniable channels, and double-check that my people can test Japan's deep-sea salvage community for signs of Hivemind influence. Not to mention that while we're all not shooting each other, I have to see if I can set up a three-way meeting between myself, Shinomori's people, and Philippe....
I really do pity my administrative staff sometimes.
Flowers, Michael. Remember to bring flowers.
"I can get you out, if you choose, Daniel," I say frankly. "The NID may be able to wreak mad havoc on military personnel, but they have no power over the Firm." Though they might try.
In fact, I rather hope they do. One attack would make it self-defense, and as Hawke has so aptly demonstrated on a plethora of prior occasions, vigorous self-defense can eliminate so many difficulties. Who says violence never solves anything?
"Or you can walk back into the flames, and seek your wife," Aoshi says, just as level. "If it were Misao who were taken - I know what I would do."
Daniel studies us both.
Then, slowly, turns to the one man who's remained so very silent.
"I am here," Kenshin says deliberately. "I will be here."
And even the wind falls quiet.
---------------
A/N: Tulpa - a spirit created by focussed and disciplined thought. Found chiefly in Tibetan traditions, but sometimes used today by various mystical traditions. The idea of a human-created (often vengeful, sometimes protective) spirit echoes in a lot of folklore. The Tupilak of Greenland Eskimos, the ship spirits of Europe and the tsukumogami of Japan all share similarities.
Translations from Japanese (Webster's Pocket Dictionary, the RK manga, and Flashing Steel by Masayuki Shimabukuro and Leonard J. Pellman):
Kodachi - sword mid-length between a wakazashi and a katana. Also called the "shield sword".
Bokken - wooden sword.
Bakumatsu - The final, chaotic days of the Tokugawa regime, prior to Meiji.
Tanuki - raccoon dog.
Onmitsu - Spies, or ninja.
Bushido - The way of the samurai.
Oniwabanshu - Elite group of spies.
Do Ryuu Sen - Earth-dragon strike.
Kami - Spirit.
Kenshi - Swordsman.
Shinnen - Unwavering determination.