Toting his early-morning supply of wrenches, electrical tools, and weird alien spare parts, Sergeant Siler stopped and stared. "Dr. Baird? What happened to you?"
"Bar fight long story tell you later," John said all in a rush, dashing into his new office before the sergeant could react. Whew. Fourth guy since sublevel 9, he thought, picking up the phone to dial an outside line. Do I look that bad?
Then again, these people were probably used to looking for subtle signs of injury. After all, they had to make sure NORAD didn't know too much about how dangerous it really got down here...
"I'm going to guess this isn't a social call." Dr. Lita Kino's voice on the phone was clear as a bell; John could hear the tap of fingers on her desk all the way from California.
"Nope." John sagged into his swivel chair with a sigh. His office had obviously been hastily taken over from some unused bureaucratic space turned storage room, but at least the dust had been swept clear. "Professional consultation. 'Fraid I need to pick your brain."
"Hmm." Pages rustled; he could picture Lita's green eyes scanning her appointment calendar. "I can give you forty-five minutes now, more later if we schedule it."
John sighed in relief. Man, it was good to hear another of the Fearsome Five on the case. 'Psychiatrists-in-training in search of the paranormal, unite!' Yeah right. Try that line on Lita and she'll giggle you to death. "I'll talk fast."
"...And I'll email you a few places to look for more information, since I know there's a lot you're not telling me," Lita finished.
"Sorry," John shrugged.
"But I still think kirisute may be your main problem here."
"I can see why," John muttered. "But... supernatural or not, nobody's old enough to have really grown up with that." He hesitated. "Are they?"
"He implied he was of age in the Bakumatsu, John. That makes him at least a hundred and fifty. From what I know about magic, that'd be rare, but not impossible." Lita's chair creaked as she leaned back. "And given that you're calling me from Carson Springs, Colorado, I'd say it's very possible."
Something knotted in John's gut. "And you're sayin' this why...?"
"When it comes to the supernatural, I've heard from reputable people that, and I quote, 'Something bad is happening there'." Lita drew a quiet breath. "One patient whose information is usually very reliable informed me that I should advise anyone with noticeable talent who lacks experience camouflaging themselves from public view to steer clear of the area for the foreseeable future. Otherwise they might find themselves forced to improvise - suddenly, violently, and all over the place."
A vision of twisted steel played out behind John's eyes. "Whoa, whoa. Lita. If you're sayin' people like this guy I met would've heard something bad was happening-"
"Not heard. Know."
Even worse. "Wouldn't they go the hell the other way?"
Lita paused. "You're standing by a building on fire. You hear someone screaming inside. What do you do?"
"...Damn."
"Second that," Colonel O'Neill's voice spoke up behind him.
"Gyahhh!" John lurched half out of his chair, heart pounding. Whirled, to see a very amused, very quiet colonel lurking just inside the door he'd eased open. Not magic. Not magic. He's just very, very quiet.
Colonel O'Neill sauntered into full view, eyeing his face and hands. "Dr. Baird. I've heard a couple versions, now it's your turn. You want to tell me just what happened last night?"
It pulled at his bruises, but John grinned anyway. "Well, I got through the kidnapping, and the cops, and the sake, and the dice game, but then one of the drunk Marines tried to pick up Himura and everything went to hell..."
"Ow. Ow. Ow..."
"Stop twitching," Janet said bluntly, finishing her examination of John's lip. "You're lucky you don't need stitches."
"Yeah, I know," John mumbled, trying not to glance at the mad, scared, and angry eyes that had just listened to him recount the attempted kidnapping and aftermath. He would have needed a lot more than that, if a blur of pink and steel hadn't clipped Heathrow a good one while the enraged officer was trying to take his head off. A psychiatrist's mean right hook was no match for Air Force Special Ops training. Even half-drunk training. "You should see the other guys."
Janet snorted. "I did see the other guys. Hangovers and all. At far too early an hour this morning, I'll have you know."
"Oh." Not good. Very not good. "They made bail?"
"Since some of those idiots are supposed to be going out on a mission in just two days, leaving them in the clink wasn't an option." Colonel O'Neill shook his head. "One day. Just one day."
"Come on, Jack," Daniel broke in. "He doesn't even come close to the newbie record for fastest time getting into SGC-related trouble."
Dark eyes shot toward the archaeologist leaning against Janet's desk. "Yeah. That would be you."
"Hey! I had two weeks. Two very quiet weeks, of coffee and books and no trouble whatsoever." Daniel gave Janet a shy grin. "Which beats the couple of days you had before the Touched virus."
"Only 'cause the 'Gate wasn't open," Jack pointed out. "Once it was - hello, mastadge-bait. 'It's domesticated.' Sheesh."
"Well, it was."
"Technically, sir, I think I hold the record here, given Apophis' invasion party hitting Abydos a few hours after we got there," Sam added.
"I must disagree, Major Carter." Teal'c raised a brow. "For my life was thrown into unexpected turmoil within the hour I encountered this team on Chulak."
"Point," Jack allowed.
"Definite point," Daniel seconded.
"Darn," Sam sighed.
"Um, guys," John said as Janet moved off, snickering, "Not that I mind not holding Rookie of the Year award, here, but - NID?"
"Yeah." Jack sounded grim. "We're working on it."
"Better work faster."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Jack said lazily. Like a cat, lounging in the sun while a robin hopped closer and closer into striking range.
John hesitated. "You listened in on my phone call to a colleague, which by the way, Colonel, we are going to talk about... you know Himura's older than he looks? A lot older?"
"Indeed." Teal'c looked sober. "It is unsettling to encounter one who seems human, yet is older than Tek'mateh Bra'tac."
"Bra'tac?" John glanced at Daniel.
"Jaffa Master," the archaeologist filled in. "Teal'c's teacher. He's somewhere over a hundred and thirty."
Whoa. "So you know..."
"Himura fought for the Ishin Shishi at the end of the Bakumatsu," Jack said bluntly. "He's at least a hundred and fifty, he's lethal, and he seems to think it's real fun to scare the hell out of the NID. Though I think this is the first time the idiot's made himself a target."
"He didn't have a choice," John replied, just as blunt. "Look, I know you probably can research rings around me when it comes to history. But I know minds. Kenshin grew up with kirisute, and those kind of habits don't go away just 'cause centuries change."
"Kiri-whatsis?" Jack asked.
"Kirisute," Daniel explained. "The traditional right of samurai to take the lives of lower-caste people who offended them. But Kenshin's not a samurai-"
"He's a swordsman," John finished. "And that makes it worse."
"Oh." Daniel blanched. "Oh, no."
"Oh no, what?" Sam looked between them, confused.
"Himura told us his family were farmers, Carter," Jack said levelly. "Can you think of anything more likely to tick off a samurai than a farmer's son carrying swords?"
"I talked to somebody who knows Aikido, and she knows people who teach swords," John stated as Sam mulled that over. "She said there's two main things coming into play here. First, there's an old saying; master and student are not two."
"Which means?" Sam asked.
"Kenshin's an assistant instructor in Kaoru's dojo," John filled in. "He's obligated to act as an older brother to all the students."
"Second?" Jack demanded.
"Imagine growing up surrounded by people who can cut your head off any time they decide they don't like the way you look at them," John said bluntly. "Not only that, you're a redhead - which in closed Japan meant you either had foreign blood, or-" He hesitated. Are they going to believe this? Should they?
"Or demon blood," Daniel finished. "His contemporaries did call Battousai a demon, Jack."
"Demon?" the colonel goggled.
"Battousai?" John asked almost in the same breath.
"Technically, youkai," Daniel clarified. "Japanese supernatural creatures. They're not all evil. And Battousai's a... nickname of Himura's. From the Bakumatsu."
"A nickname in the historical records?" John asked. Why did that give him a bad feeling?
"Oh, he's got a record all right," Jack grumbled. "Guy's used to killing his problems."
Sam shook her head. "So far as we know, he hasn't killed anyone in years, sir."
"It's that so far as we know that worries me, Carter. Whoever sent those two to take the kid isn't going to let this slide." Jack's fingers curled into fists by his side.
"I look forward to their failure," Teal'c said bluntly.
"T. I know you think the guy's scary, but if they really want him gone, all somebody has to do is get one sniper bullet in at the wrong time-"
"That might not be as easy as you think, Colonel," John put in. "If he really is a sword-master... it might be downright impossible."
Dark eyes narrowed at him. "Talk."
Okay. John ran over what Lita had told him in his head, snapped it down to key points. "Imagine a samurai standing in a pool of water-"
"Swordsman," Jack interrupted. "Kenshi, he calls it."
John slashed a hand across air. "Most of the legendary swordsmen were samurai, so just listen."
"Water." Jack shrugged. "Got it."
"'Kay... now, if an invader steps into that water, it creates ripples, right?" John sketched rings in midair. "No matter where the samurai's looking, he can see the enemy's there before the bad guy ever gets close enough to strike." He took a breath. "That water is ki."
"Psychokinetic energy?" Janet asked, intrigued.
"Close enough for what we're talking about," the psychiatrist allowed. "And-" He hesitated, seeing the very thoughtful look on Sam's face. Wait a sec. That means something to her?
"Carter?" Jack asked, after letting her have a minute of furious concentration.
Sam opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head. "I think we're dealing with some sort of human lateral line sense, sir."
Jack gave her a cross-eyed look. "He's not a fish, Major."
"No, sir. But Daniel says it's a kind of synesthesia, sight and touch and scent wrapped together. Janet's confirmed that it involves electromagnetic perception as well, and we know living bodies have a measurable electromagnetic difference from their environment-"
"Some of our new bandages are based on that," Janet nodded. "The charge of the compounds they're treated with attracts the charge of blood cells, stopping bleeding a lot faster than gauze can."
"And that difference, that charge, changes with your emotional state," Sam went on, blue eyes wide with excitement. "That ripple-in-water effect Dr. Baird describes - that's exactly the sort of conceptual image we use in the life sciences today to describe electromagnetic or lateral line perception. Touch at a distance. In this case, accurate reading of your enemy's emotional state and location - even when you can't see anything."
John felt his jaw dropping. Whoa. She's good!
"So you're saying," Jack summed up, "It doesn't matter how nasty and sneaky they are. If they come near Himura with hostile intent, they might as well paint themselves blue and dance naked."
"Pretty much, sir."
And you're not nearly as dumb as you like to look, Colonel, John concluded. Very interesting. "So how are we going to help Ms. Jacobs?"
"We're not," Colonel O'Neill said shortly.
"Jack." Daniel's voice was colorless.
"It's not our job, Daniel." O'Neill met John's gaze squarely. "Not any of our jobs."
Time to draw his fire before this gets any uglier. "With all due respect, Colonel," John said dryly, "Karen and her daughter are dependents of this installation. Their mental health sure as hell is my job."
"They're in danger because they're poking into the SGC," the colonel said coldly. "Once they stop, the NID'll back off."
"You don't know that," John shot back, just as cold. Keep cool. Keep cool. He probably knows a hundred ways to kill you with a pencil... just stay calm. "And even if you did, do you want her to stop trying to find the truth? To give them exactly what they want on a silver platter?"
"Hell, no!" O'Neill's nostrils flared. "Has one word of what we've been saying gotten through that rock you call a skull, Baird? We can't protect them!"
"No, you can't," John said, holding down his own temper with an effort. And it's tearing you up inside. Fixing that's part of my job, too. "Why the hell do you think Himura threw himself in the way?"
Teal'c stepped out of the shadows. "Do you know this to be true?"
Man, the guy has looming down to an art... John tried not to sweat. "All I know is what I saw here, and what I saw a few years back in San Francisco. Kenshin looked after people there, too." He swept the assembled gazes with his own. "Look. Maybe I just got here, maybe I don't know everything that's going on yet, but I do know where we are."
"Ground zero for the Goa'uld," Jack quipped.
"No, damn it!" John slashed a hand through air. "This is America. The United States. The one place on the planet where no one is supposed to be above the law. Including assholes like your rogue NID." He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling, roughly in the direction of Carson Springs. "Out there, right out there, are the people you're trying to keep alive. The people who want to help you.
"Out there, right now, there's a pair of homicide cops who're squeezing those two kidnappers for everything they can get. There are FBI agents getting dragged off cases and out of beds - and they don't care, 'cause they've got a shot at somebody who tried to hurt a kid, and we don't look the other way when someone goes after kids. There's a kendo instructor and a doctor and who knows how many people they know who've decided they like it here, and they're not going to stand by while some rats bite people and scurry away." John drew a breath. "Maybe you can't protect Karen, Colonel. Maybe you can't even make it look like you're trying. But there's help out there that's going to try its damnedest to keep her in one piece, and if I were you, I'd be thinking about what I could do to make sure I didn't stop that help."
"Even if it is a few white trench coats in odd corners," Daniel murmured.
John stared.
"...Oh. Um." Daniel fidgeted.
"Tall, green-eyed Japanese with a dark ninja outfit, doesn't smile, moves like a shadow?" John asked, blinking. I should have known. Kenshin wouldn't have let Sanosuke drag him out to a bar if he didn't have a good reason to show up there.
"That's not-" Sam started.
"Not Archangel. Nope," Jack agreed. "I kind of wonder who he is." He looked pointedly at Daniel.
The archaeologist let out a slow breath. "Kenshin called him Aoshi. He's a friend."
"Of?" Jack prompted.
"Kenshin and Kaoru," Daniel said wryly. "And an acquaintance of Archangel's."
"That white-suited one-eyed son of a-!" Jack's fingers fought the urge to strangle an absent throat. "I knew that place was too good to be true-"
"Stop." Daniel's voice was tired. "Just stop right there, Jack. Archangel didn't have anything to do with the dojo. I asked."
The colonel's eyes narrowed. "You asked."
The archaeologist's gaze implored the ceiling. "I do get suspicious sometimes, Jack."
Jack looked at him askance. "You're not going to tell me Aoshi's not a spy."
"Oh, he definitely is," Daniel agreed dryly. "Spy, Jack. As in, person whose job is to figure out where something weird is going on?"
And we're going to have blood on the floor if this keeps up, John knew, looking at the other three's tense faces. Even Teal'c looked slightly perturbed. "That would fit," the psychiatrist broke into the clash of wills. "If he's a friend of Kenshin's, there's a good chance he can sense PKE too. And a friend of mine says this area's just screaming bad vibes to anybody listening." He dusted off his hands, making a quick decision. "Speaking of which, do you know when the general could clear out half an hour, Colonel? I'd like to give him my preliminary impressions, get some feedback on what would be a good schedule to set up so treating patients doesn't get in the way of missions. And still works around you, of course, Dr. Fraiser..."
Hands on a folder, General Hammond stared at John across the briefing table.
John stared right back. Go ahead, glare at me. I can deal. "You've got a problem."
"Tell me something I don't know, Dr. Baird."
"Colonel O'Neill is that close-" John held thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart, "To leaving you without a useable 2IC. One way or another."
Hammond started.
Bingo. "You thought I was going to say Dr. Jackson," John said wryly.
"He has suffered serious shocks lately," Hammond said levelly. "Some of them of our making."
"He's also the only person on your flagship team who's made an effort to build up relationships outside the Mountain," John pointed out. "I'll admit spies, Oriental doctors, and Bakumatsu swordsmen aren't the most ordinary friends, but psychologically? I'd call Dr. Jackson the least at-risk of the bunch."
Hammond looked as if he'd bitten something sour. "Nevertheless, Colonel O'Neill is-"
"A basically good guy, who sometimes doesn't look too close at things so long as they work," John filled in. "Who lost his son, split up with his wife, pretty much lives for this project nowadays, wants to protect people, and thinks he can't do a damn thing about the NID harassing innocent civilians who just want to know the truth. He's on thin ice, General. Damn thin ice."
"Colonel O'Neill is a fine officer."
John resisted the urge to pound his head against the table. It'd hurt. "Uh-huh. When's the last time your fine officer had a date? And not the rescued-alien-princess or Goa'uld queen looking for face to suck. A quiet, sit down, have dinner, watch a corny movie type date?"
Hammond colored slightly. "Dr. Baird-"
"I am dead serious, General." John laid his hands flat on the table. "In order to stay alive, a human being needs to have a safe place to go. Not just physically safe, but someplace people know them, and care about them, and are willing to go to the wall to keep them in one piece. If you don't have that, you die. Maybe not right away. Maybe not even next week. But eventually, it'll kill you. The mind gives out, the soul gives out... and the body doesn't hang on long afterward." He nodded toward the walls. "I don't know how safe this place was when the project started, but once the NID showed they could yank you out, the SGC wasn't safe anymore. And far as I can tell, your colonel doesn't have anywhere else."
"Suggestions?" The general said grimly.
John blew out a breath. "Outside of ordering him to take some R&R? With people, not stuck in some cabin in Minnesota. I just met him. Give me a few more days."
"Perhaps you can use that time to explain this." Opening the folder, Hammond slid out a series of photos.
Freeze-frames of video, John realized, looking over images of pitted asphalt and slashed steel. News footage from the kidnapping. Uh-oh... "What about it?"
A faded red brow arched. "Would you care to explain precisely what did that?"
"Kenshin in a bad mood," John said simply.
Hammond gave him a look of pure disbelief. "You can't do that with a sword."
"You can't do that with a sword," John said pointedly. "I definitely can't. But Kenshin can."
"Energy manipulation." Hammond scowled.
"Which, I kind of figure, is exactly why he's rubbing your second in command the wrong way," John added.
Hammond sat up straight.
Aha. Gotcha. "Himura probably doesn't know what the problem is," John went on. "My guess is, he's met allied swordsmen before, and plenty of enemies, but not one trying to stay neutral." He held up a hand. "Bear in mind we're talking manipulating your own natural energy here. It's like biofeedback, or a yoga putting himself into trance so deep you can't tell he's breathing. Part of it's conscious control, but a lot of it is training that works on the level of instinct. Which means Kenshin's probably used to instinctively doing one of two things when he runs up against somebody else's ki. If it's an enemy, he clashes with it. A friend of mine says a master swordsman can use his ki not just for stunts like this-" John tapped the photos, "But to create maai, the room you need to strike. His aura keeps the bad guys at bay. Some say just by intimidation, some say it literally, physically keeps them back."
"And if it's not an enemy?" Hammond said darkly.
I really wish I didn't think you need to know this... "A true master's ki doesn't just help him fight," John stated. "It gives all his allies strength, holding them together as one fighting unit. That's why ninja would be hired to take out the leaders if they could; without that fighting aura to hold lesser soldiers together, it's easy to break an army's will." He sighed. "Or as we might put it today, somebody with a trained, focused aura can swamp the PKE of regular people, overriding their energies with his."
Hammond considered that, eyeing images of pitted steel. "And you believe Himura's swamping Colonel O'Neill."
"Not on purpose, but yeah."
Hammond linked his fingers together. "I find it interesting you should say that, Dr. Baird. Himura doesn't admit to having been a leader in the Bakumatsu. Although O'Neill is convinced he was... at least for the last part of his service with the Ishin Shishi."
Himura, Battousai, Ishin Shishi, John noted mentally. Got to see what I can find. "Doesn't surprise me."
Hammond arched a brow.
"People like the colonel say 'Let's go!', and lead," John filled in. "People like Kenshin say, 'I think we should go this way' - and turn around surprised as hell to find out they've got people following them." He leaned back. "So how are you doing, General?"
"Excuse me?"
"The detectives said they were going to talk to your daughter," John stated. "How'd she feel about them dragging up the kidnapping again? Your grandkids must be feeling pretty..." The anger in Hammond's eyes dried the words in his throat.
"Tessa and Kayla never knew they'd been kidnapped until last night," Hammond said tightly.
Oh hell. "And they didn't notice their mother was clingy after..." Oh. Hell. "Elena didn't know?"
"Colonel O'Neill handled the situation, Dr. Baird." Hammond's gaze should have incinerated him on the spot. "There was no need to breach security further."
No need, sure. Except for the fact that your daughter probably trusted you to keep her kids safe. Lord in Heaven, this whole damn place needs a shrink...
Clue, John. That's why they hired you.
"So... how long is she not speaking to you for?" John said cautiously.
"We haven't discussed the matter."
Ouch. Ugly. But unlike Colonel O'Neill's long-standing problem, John had an idea how to start fixing this. And given that you're the head honcho, maybe setting this straight can buy me enough time to start figuring out how to dig the colonel out of his hole, Dr. Baird thought. "Look. I'm not going to tell you how to handle your own family. Or the Blue Book survivors. But if I were you, I'd let Ms. Jacobs know somebody cares about what happened."
Hammond frowned. "Officially, this was a simple kidnapping attempt. Reasons unknown."
"Uh-huh." Sigh. "Forget official. Bring your granddaughters." John shrugged, and grinned. "According to Karen, Sanosuke Sagara helps out with a weekly story-time at the library. And Honori will be there."
"Sagara," Hammond said levelly. "You do realize, Dr. Baird, that man and his wife have official records as suspiciously normal as Himura's?"
Not that surprising, given the bar fight. "Ah-"
"I believe you should read the unofficial records, Doctor. Particularly those obtained by Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter." Hammond's smile had a definite edge. "After all, we wouldn't want you entering this situation uninformed."
"This one," Colonel O'Neill said gleefully, handing over a sheaf of printout as they sat in Dr. Baird's still-new office.
Paper rustled. "Um."
"And this one..."
More rustlings. A thump of hand on folder. "Uh."
"Oh, and definitely this one..."
Flip. Flip. Scan. Shiver. "Erk."
"Had enough yet?" Jack asked, still grinning.
"Auggh..."
The colonel watched the psychiatrist's hands shake, grin widening. "Good thing we're doing this in the daylight, huh?"
John looked at all those teeth, and couldn't help thinking of sharks. Hitokiri Battousai. The killer who thrived on the blood of his enemies. The demon whose eyes glowed like fire.
And if it weren't for Daniel being in the middle, Colonel, you'd probably like the guy.
Birds of a feather, and all. Snipers, fighter aces, Black Ops types - they all had a common, core personality trait the rest of the universe lacked. I can kill. Without blinking. Without my target even knowing I'm there.
Only the sane ones didn't. Not without a damn good reason.
Shutting the last folder on some of the more lurid Bakumatsu tales, John smiled weakly. "At least you're not offering me the salt and pepper."
"Doesn't make shoe leather taste any better, Doc," Jack said confidently. "Trust me, I know." The graying head cocked. "So?"
"So... I honestly don't know," the psychiatrist admitted. "Scary thing is, I still like the guy." He shrugged. "'Course, I like what I've seen of you, too, so what does that say about me?"
Jack frowned. "Not funny."
"But when you boil it all down, doesn't matter who I like. Or what you've done. Or not done." John leaned forward. "My job is to take care of your people, Colonel. Can you at least give me a few weeks to try, before you lump me in with MacKenzie?"
"Oh, you could be way worse than MacKenzie, Doc." O'Neill's smile could have chilled snow. "After all, he didn't try to get us to trust him."
John swallowed dryly. That was a threat. Definitely a threat.
The 'Gateroom alarm sounded, and the colonel headed for the door. "See you around, Doc."
Alone under the buzzing fluorescent lights, John let himself shiver. I'm not sure I'm cut out for this...
But he'd taken the job. And they needed him.
Finger by finger, he uncurled clenched fists. Took one deep breath. Another.
Straightened his shoulders, and picked up the phone. "Medical? Dr. Baird. I think you have a list of patients for me..."
