Author's Note: Language alert! Definitely one to read before allowing the kids to see it.

OOOOOOOOOOO

He tried to say something, but his jaw was frozen as well as all the muscles in his throat – which terrified him, suddenly, because he realized that if all his muscles were to stop working, that would include his heart and lungs.

Ian walked up to the bed, his hand extended slightly towards Kinsey, but palm down so the man couldn't see the device in his hand. Not only was the device keeping him still, but it had also scanned the room to make sure there were no recording devices or video devices that would give evidence of what was about to happen. The room was clean, and Ian spoke again.

"I'll let you speak, but if you yell, I'll kill you long before anyone gets here. Do you understand?"

Kinsey found that the muscles controlling his head were suddenly working, and he nodded, his eyes wide with shock and fear. What the hell was this? It had to be some alien, but he hadn't had anything to do with any aliens for months now – longer, even! Unless it was –

Ian took the nod for a yes, and made a slight adjustment on the device, freeing Kinsey's mouth and vocal chords – although he was ready to clamp down on them in an instant. Kinsey felt the change immediately, and debated screaming for help anyways. But something in those dark eyes told him that the kid wasn't joking about killing him.

"Who are you?"

"None of your fucking business."

Immediately, the tone of voice made Kinsey angry – it was a talent Ian just seemed to possess naturally.

"How did you get in here? How did you get past the-"

"I came down the fucking chimney. What do you know about Dotty Adams?"

"What?"

That name struck fear into his heart the minute he heard it, and if not for the fact that he was frozen, Kinsey would have reeled back in terror, afraid that the crazy woman was somehow coming after him again. He did look around, and Ian noticed the terror in his expression immediately, and wondered if it was a nonverbal admission of guilt.

"Dotty Adams, you piece of shit. What do you know about what happened to her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Kinsey said, so surprised by the question that he actually answered truthfully instead of saying something weasel-ish. "What do you mean?"

"Don't lie to me!"

Ian could see in Kinsey's eyes that he was confused, but he didn't know if it was an act or not. And he had to know. He had to.

"Who are you?" Kinsey asked again, his voice raising, but only because he was torn between anger and fear – mostly fear – and he had no idea who this person was that was threatening him – and didn't know what he had to do with that witch that had beaten him up so badly, but he did know that he didn't want anything to do with him – or her – ever again.

"What do you know about the plane crash? What did you have to do with it?"

"Plane-"

"Answer me!"

He didn't wait for an answer, though. He'd had enough. The man wasn't going to tell him anything – and even if he did answer him, Ian knew he couldn't believe the answer. He activated the device in his hand, freezing Kinsey's mouth once more and brought his hand down on the man's head while at the same moment employing the other device he'd brought along. This one far more dangerous.

Kinsey's mind screamed in terror as he felt something inside his head. Some kind of Presence inside him, sifting through his thoughts and memories, seeing all that he had done and all that he had schemed to do in the last few weeks and months. All the way back to the plot to steal Jack O'Neill's son and capture – no, kill – him. He was frozen to the spot, unable to even whimper in terror as a pain grew worse and worse the longer he was subjected to the probing, and he felt a rush of anger that wasn't his and a purely mental scream of frustration that, again, didn't belong to him. Then the Presence was gone, and he was alone in his head once more.

"God DAMN it!"

Ian barely could control his fury enough to remember to keep his voice low. It wasn't there! Absofuckinglutely nothing about Dotty's plane crashing! The bastard didn't have anything to do with it! Nothing! Oh, he'd had plenty to do with other things, of course. Lots of evil considerations running through the slimy bastard's head – and thoughts that were definitely not of going to church and making a better man of himself – but Kinsey didn't have anything to do with Dotty's death. He didn't even know about it.

Which meant it was all Ian's fault.

He squelched that thought, though, for the moment. As much as he wanted to scream and run from the guilt that was once more crashing down on him, he had to deal with Kinsey, first.

Kinsey's eyes were wild with fear. He didn't know what the kid was so angry about and he would have recoiled in fear and terror if he could have, certain he was going to be killed any moment for whatever one of the various plots that had been discovered. By the time Ian gathered himself together enough to speak once more, Kinsey was almost as afraid of him as he was of Dotty Adams.

"You listen to me, you piece of shit," Ian said, his dark eyes smoldering with hatred – although Kinsey didn't realize that hatred wasn't aimed at him. "I know what's going on in your head, now – and I will from now on. If you do anything – and I mean fucking anything – out of line, even telling someone to pull your fucking finger or telling a dirty joke, I'll come down on you so hard that it'll make what Dotty Adams did to you look like a tiptoe through the fucking tulips. Do you understand me?"

Kinsey's head was freed again, and he nodded so vigorously that Ian was surprised that it didn't fall off.

"Do you believe me?"

Kinsey's head nodded again, his eyes so wide with terror that they were practically bulging out of their sockets.

"Good. Because I'm serious. I'll know the minute you even fucking think of something – and I'll come crashing through anything you put in front of me to get at you."

Kinsey nodded, unable to say anything, so he couldn't swear over and over that he wouldn't do anything – although he wanted to say it over and over again. Anything to make this person leave him alone!

Ian waited another few moments, debating whether or not to get back inside Kinsey's head to see if he meant what he was saying just then, but he didn't. He didn't want to get back inside that evil mind – not even for a moment. Instead, he turned himself invisible again – after giving Kinsey another killer glare – and headed for the door. Only when he was carefully through the door and away from the room, down the staircases and to the ground floor did he deactivate the device that had immobilized Kinsey. Just in case he decided to call for help.

He stood outside the main entrance to the hotel, standing in the dark and invisible still, waiting for some kind of alarm to be raised, but after a few minutes without any kind of panic on the faces of the two Secret Service guys guarding the door, he decided Kinsey hadn't called for help. He didn't care, though. The anger was fading rapidly, now, and all that was left was guilt.

He went into the alley on the side of the building, and emerged – visible – a minute later. Eyes blurring from tears that he was fighting to control, Ian put both devices into the inside pocket of his jacket, crossed the street and managed to make it to the Explorer without getting hit by a car. He fumbled with his keys, and unlocked the door, then slid behind the wheel. And buried his head in his arms on the steering wheel and cried.