"How did you find all of this so quickly?" Harvey asked as he walked slowly on 9th Street away from his office building. "You know how rude it is to ask me to dig up info, and then not even give me time to find a shovel before you rent a back hoe and excavate it yourself?"

"Jesus, you are just as big a drama queen as you were forty years ago," Jacob Kane replied. "Where we found it is a close hold for now. The real question is why did the official inquiry turn up nothing all three times when the unofficial ones got immediate hits? Which end of those requests was the problem? Did the CPD fuck up, or did the DOJ?"

"The Department Of Justice doesn't fuck up. Much. Before breakfast. On Tuesdays. But I agree, that's the question. So you want everything we received from the CPD."

"That's right, but on the DL. Don't spook anyone on the inside, just in case you have a huldah in your house," Jacob said, using the Hebrew word for rat that meant informer.

Jacob's words stopped Harvey's progress down 9th Street, and his train of thought, dead in its tracks. It was gut reaction more than conscious thought that caused him to lower his voice before he spoke. "Seriously? You don't think it's just a screw up?"

Jacob summed up what they knew so far. "Three men dead. Three request for identification from IAFIS that produced nothing when those three men were clearly in the system. Torfim al ha'atzim, ach."

Predators in the trees, brother.

There was a moment of silence on each end of the phone call. Harvey was certain that he was far enough from their headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue that, whoever might be working the day after Thanksgiving like he was, no one was listening in; and he was using his burner phone, which only a few people, Jacob Kane being one of them, knew existed. Harvey was still of the opinion that it was just a screw up by some underpaid, overworked technician residing either in Chicago or DC, but given all the points just recapped by Jacob that opinion was on shaky ground.

"OK, I'm on it. I might have to walk into the server room and do it from the console."

"Don't put yourself at risk, Harv. Not until we know more."

"I know what I'm doing. Did the CPD fax the info to us, or did they email it? If they faxed it then it's a piece of cake. There will be a log, and we do regular phone log audits. No one will be able to tell the difference. If it's email I'll need to look at the incoming smtp logs, and that'll require me to sign in. Find out how the CPD got the info to us. We'll decide what to do next."

"I can do that. I'll get back to you."

"You take care too, Jacob. Lots of trees in Chicago."

"Best if we both learn to look up regularly for the time being."

The Cook County Medical Examiner's Office, locally known as The Morgue, was not a place that anyone chose to visit. Most everyone who found it necessary to walk through the double glass doors on Harrison Street were there out of dire necessity, their search for a lost love one finally leading them to that terrible destination, and the terrible conclusion that they had been avoiding.

So it was quite unusual when, barely five minutes after opening its doors on Friday, November 25th, the large concrete structure received a not quite as large though, at least partly, more distinguished group of visitors.

"This is a court order requiring you to present any and all documents in the building related to the discovery of any unidentified men or women for inspection," Kristen Wolf said as the Cook County Sheriff handed said court order to the woman at the front desk. The woman, who was losing complexion by the second, to the point that John Dorazio thought she was about to keel over, seemed to be totally lost for words.

"You're not in any trouble," he said gently to the woman who couldn't have been as young as she looked, "why don't you sit down, and just point us towards the Coroner's office."

"We haven't had a Coroner since 1976," explained Cook County Medical Examiner Edward Glass. "But I'm familiar with the local short hand that cops use to minimize the number of syllables when they talk."

fuck you, asshole, ran through John Dorazio's mind, but he kept it to himself. "I'm Captain John Dorazio. I'm heading the task force looking into the three men who turned up in the Chicago River. You already know State's Attorney Wolf. Give us what we need, and we'll get out of your hair as soon as possible."

Edward Glass read the order for the third time as everyone in his office stood around impatiently and waited to get to work.

It hasn't changed in the ten seconds since you read it last, dickwad, John thought. It was not verbatim what Detective Meghana Chander was thinking; her mother would never approve of such language, spoken or not. But it was close.

Just give us the goddamn files, asshole.

Ed Glass looked from the sheets of paper (which had indeed not changed since he read them last less than a minute earlier) to the men and women, some in uniform and some, like Kristen Wolf and the detective that he did not recognize, in plain clothes, standing around before admitting defeat. "Give me some time to have the files brought up."

"No. As of right now no one's going near those files except us. You'll take us to them and them stay out of our way," Kristen Wolf said with authority. "If your Hippocratic Oath won't allow you to do that, one of these fine officers will give you a pair of bracelets to wear and we'll turn your entire building upside down looking for them."

All of Ed Glass's patients were currently dead, and in no condition to object to any invasion of their privacy; and he was allergic to handcuffs. "Follow me."

"What do you mean, empty?" James Gordon asked.

"Empty," Laurel replied, "as in, the opposite of full. The folders were there, but there was nothing in them."

"Maybe they were getting scanned, and just hadn't made it back yet?"

"Except for the last guy, they had already been scanned. They should have been there. The file folders were there. Why take the contents but leave the folders?"

"What about the last guy? Where's his folder?"

"They only fished him out on Wednesday. His request to IAFIS was the last thing the office did before it closed for Thanksgiving. The ME is looking for it upstairs."

"So the request actually went out? We're sure?"

"They say it did. They're checking the fax log on the machine, but the printed confirmation sheet would be in the folder with everything else."

"We'll know for sure in a little while. Jacob Kane's guy is on it," James Gordon said before a thought occurred to him, "did the copies in the ancillary building include the fax confirmation pages?"

"Not that I saw, but I wasn't there. They took photos of everything. I can ask."

"Do that. But if not, that means that those copies were made before the info was sent to Justice."

"And then what? The files get faxed, and then mysteriously disappear on their way to storage?"

"Or after they got to storage. Was the room secure?"

"Are you kidding?"

"It was just a question. So anyone could have marched in there and taken the information."

"Not marched, exactly. You would have to know were to look. But if you knew that, then yeah. But why not just take the folders and everything in them?"

"Because someone would notice if the folders were gone, but who's going to look inside each folder to see if the contents are still there?"

"Then who would know where to look?"

"Anyone who's ever made a documents request to CCMEO and then had to schlep down there and into the bowels of the building and do their own looking?"

"So, half of the CPD."

"At least."

"Fuck."

"There could still be a perfectly innocent explanation."

"In Chicago? Nothing is perfectly innocent. Nothing and no one."

"You including the two of us in that indefinite pronoun?"

"I am very definitely including us."

"Just checking. Anyway, thanks for your help. Let the task force do what they're being paid to do. I'm sure you have work from your own office that needs your attention."

"Hold on there, compadre, you can't just hand me a puzzle and then pull it away at the last minute. No fucking way."

"Technically I handed Jessica Jones a puzzle and then pulled it away, and I don't hear her complaining."

"Keep it that way. From what I've heard you want to stay on her good side. You know she threw a dumpster at a guy and his brother once?"

"Seriously? A dumpster?"

"Full sized."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. If you get on her bad side you'll regret it."

"I have never known a woman for whom that has not been true. How about I keep you in the loop on what we find? Anyway, if we uncover some illegal, underhanded shit, your office is going to get the case and you'll have a front row seat. Stay calm, have courage, and wait for signs."

"Thank you, Virgil White Buffalo."

"Your friend heading back to New York?"

"Trish? No, she's hanging out an extra day. She wants to hear what comes back from Justice in person before she trots back east."

"Thank her again for her help with this. Ask her to pass along my thanks to Jessica. I owe them both a beer, and maybe a lot more."

"Wilco."

It was a late rise for almost every resident of 1550 N Lake Shore Drive, apartment 33rd floor, both the permanent residents and the temporary. The large German Shepherd, and the man who accompanied him to celebrate Thanksgiving at Jacob's home, had arrived at that celebration several hours after sun set, preceded by a false dawn emanating from a short distance behind the house. Their rising an hour (in some cases two hours) before everyone else was to allow said mutt to go outside to relieve himself and pick up any messages that the local canines had left him since his last venture out onto The Gold Coast, and for his owner/friend/companion the requisite time and privacy to burn off his excess dark energy before recycling what remained, old for new.

Aric was not surprised at all upon his return to find Kate waiting for him. Even from the other side of her front door he could feel Kate's presence.

nudge...nudge.

How is she doing that? he thought to himself as he opened the door.

Tyler wasted no time trotting back into the bedroom that was on loan from their host before hopping into bed and filling up the space next to Beth that Aric had recently vacated. He took in a deep breath before letting it out again in announcement that he had no intention of moving again until lunchtime.

"Coffee?" Kate asked simply as she pressed the button on her Jura E8 that started the built in coffee grinder.

"Please," he replied as he closed his mental barriers tightly to prevent any accidental sharing of thoughts; Kate's thoughts to be specific. He had felt Beth stir slightly as the warm fur covered mass settled next to her, but she had drifted off again into that deep, restful state of oblivion that she had rediscovered once the nightmares had ended. Aric could sense Julia nearby as well, and could tell she was awake; awake, with her ears tuned to the quiet voices coming from the kitchen. Tyler's thoughts were almost entirely taken up by the olfactory bliss of having half of his favorite pair of humans so close, with the scent of the other half still permeating the sheets on which he lay.

Aric and Tyler's return has likewise not surprised Kate; she had felt their approach like a second gravitation constant drawing her towards her front door. She held out long enough for her expensive coffee maker to finish brewing a second mug, and for her to offer that mug to the ridiculously attractive man who had finally agreed, after much coaxing from Beth, to spend the night at Kate's place.

But even though he did not read her mind, Aric had no trouble at all reading her body language.

Here it comes.

Kate took a sip from her mug before speaking. "Can I ask you a question?"

Aric had been on his best behavior during his short stay in Jacob's, and then Kate's domicile; no shenanigans, as Beth like to call them, of any sort. But Kate's request for permission to mine him for more data came as no surprise. "Didn't we already do this?"

She felt the pull of the whirlpool draw something inside of her closer to Aric, even though her body was stationary, he hip still in contact with the edge of the kitchen counter. "Not that kind of question."

Huh, Aric thought, his curiosity piqued. "OK. Shoot."

No guts, no glory, Kate thought as she committed herself. "You feel it too, right?"

So she does know, he thought before answering in the most neutral way possible. "It?"

For fuck sake, don't act like you don't know. "It."

He had almost been convinced that she had been oblivious to it, and it took Aric a few seconds before deciding to be honest. "Yes."

He could tell from the look in Kate's eyes that she had also been on the fence whether what she had been feeling was real. The look of triumph on her face and the slow nod of her head told him which side of the fence she currently occupied. "So it is you doing it."

"Nope," he replied honestly with a slight shake of his head, moving deeper into more truthful, and more dangerous, territory. He still didn't understand how she was doing what few other, scratch that...no other, untrained minds could do; not unless she had an innate gift that Beth lacked.

"But you said..."

Aric halted her words with a raised left hand, his right one still occupied by the half full mug. "I said I feel it. I didn't say I was doing it. I think you're doing it."

Kate had clearly been about to say something but Aric's last words stopped her in her verbal tracks. "I'm not doing anything. I don't know how to do anything."

They were starting to get to the point where words were not going to cut it, but Aric gave it one more attempt. "You are and, apparently, you do."

Kate Kane was having none of it. "Bullshit, and bullshit."

They had both noticed it the night before almost immediately after Aric had arrived at Jacob's home. But Aric also noticed that it stopped when Kate was distracted, and there had been more than enough distractions to keep Kate occupied for the rest of the evening. As far as Aric could tell, she didn't seem to notice its absence; and in that respect he had been correct.

Beth had talked about her cousin Bruce often. She had mentioned how he, as well as her sister, and Bruce's friend Selina had contributed the odds and ends that collectively made up the outfit that Beth still wore when she went to work, as she liked to call it. Aric and Bruce were close to the same height, though Bruce was easily twenty pounds heavier than Aric. Bruce's blue eyes, much more vibrant than Aric's gray ones, had a way of inspecting a thing, or a person, at first glance that, combined with a face that displayed very little emotion, many people found off putting, or unsettling. But the stone visage soon gave way to smiles and laughter in the presence of Julia Pennyworth, and Aric didn't have to be a mind reader to identify the mutual attraction between the two. The same was true for Julia's father, who seemed to consider Bruce more son than potential son-in-law. A good portion of the evening once Aric had arrived had been taken up with a recounting of the evening before, an evening that had stretched well into morning, which recounting had been preceded by a request/command from Beth.

"I'm not asking you to put your mister fix-it hat on. We're not asking you to do anything except listen."

"No fixing stuff. Got it. Listening mode activated."

He identified quickly by the looks on everyone's faces after Beth's public request that his reputation had preceded him. To be fair, he hadn't asked her to keep it a secret, just to be careful who she told, and he trusted her judgement.

Aric continued to sip his coffee, glancing once again at the words printed in black block letters on the mug that read, fuck you, and anybody who looks like you.

"I'm not doing it, and if you let me, I'll show you."

Kate's pulse quickened like she had gone from a stand still to a dead sprint. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don't want this guy in my fucking head.

"Show me what?"

"I'll show you what it's like when I'm the one doing it."

"Shit," Kate answered before realizing that she had said it out loud.

Aric's eyes locked with hers. "Don't worry, I'm not going to grab your Amazon username and password from your head. Trust me."

It'll be fine. Breathe through it. How bad can it be?

"OK. Fine. Go ahead."

"Might want to set your mug down. Just in case."

This is a bad fucking idea, Kate thought, but she had already said yes, and no fucking way she was backing down now.

Kate set her mug on the counter and began the same process of going mentally numb that she used before engaging in combat.

Aric simply waited, timing his response to the rhythmic prodding that he was still feeling until he had modulated his mental defenses to match Kate's probing.

The memory he shared was, perhaps, not the calmest; but Aric thought it was pretty funny, though it had taken Beth a little time to process the experience before seeing the humor in it.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Why the fuck did I agree to this! Jesus H Christ! Fuuuuuuuaaaaaaaaa!"

Beth's commentary, screamed into Aric's ear, her arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as he soared through the air above New York, spiraling upwards around the tallest buildings before plunging into a steep dive towards the streets below, had continued unabated for approximately sixty seconds until he had adopted a more sedate flight path that eventually took the couple out over the Atlantic Ocean.

"What is going on out here?!" Two voices asked almost in unison as Beth Kane and Julia Pennyworth quickly emerged from their separate bedrooms, which Aric took as his cue to end the demonstration.

Kate was breathing like she had run a quarter mile in record time, and it took her a moment to respond. "What?"

"You were screaming. I thought the building was on fire," Beth explained.

Kate's breathing was still ragged as she looked at the face that looked so much like hers, the face that owned the memories that had just inhabited Kate's mind. "I was?"

Beth stared back at her sister before turning her attention to her boyfriend, who simply took a sip from his mug and inspected the section of flooring in front of his toes.

Kate was finally able to take in a deep breath. She let it out again before addressing the man who she could still feel herself holding on to for dear life as they traversed the New York City airspace at wild speeds.

"You fucking asshole."