Julia had expected to return to an occupied apartment, but she had also expected the occupants to be Beth and Kate.
"What are you doing here, sweetie?" she asked the fur covered welcoming committee that greeted her at the door.
"We are enjoying the cooler temperatures," Aric answered as he rose up from his prone position on the couch, "at least he is. I was dressed for island apartment hunting."
"Where are Kate and Beth?" Bruce asked as he held out his hand so that a prominent canine nose could inspect it.
"They had a thing. I was told, non verbally at least, to mind my own business, so I didn't ask."
Julia knew what that phrase meant. Only one question remained to be answered.
"I'll be right back," she said as she disappeared through the door that led to the floor below.
Bruce stood not too far from the door he had just entered and watched as Tyler jumped back up onto the couch, and at least partially onto the man still laying on it. They had spent a polite amount of time talking when they last met (which was also the only time they met), and Bruce had found him to be funny, self deprecating, a bit too cerebral for the occasion, but that was probably meet the family nerves. But Bruce Wayne was highly observant, and a good judge of people, and he could tell when someone was going through a thing of his own.
Amongst his many traits was an aversion to prying into other people's business, but this other person was dating his cousin; not to mention that he could crack the world in half if he had a mind to.
"Mind if I ask you a question?" Bruce asked.
Aric was so mentally closed down that the words took him by surprise.
"Depends on the question," he answered as his eyes traveled to the man still standing near the door.
"Are you OK?"
Aric was silent for a moment while he considered whether to be polite or truthful. At the end of the pause truth won out. "Not really. But thanks for asking."
"None of my business, but if you want to talk..."
"Talk about what?" Julia asked as she reappeared after confirming her suspicion that she would find both sets of armor missing.
"Nothing," Bruce replied, "just stuff."
"Uh huh," Beth said skeptically.
Bruce looked again at the man laying on the couch scratching his dog behind the ears. "So, you're just hanging out at Kate's place?"
"We're waiting for someone," Aric said as if he were talking to Tyler, "it's all part of...somebody's plan. Never did tell me who came up with this part of it, but it was the only way to convince some of the team to agree."
"What's the plan, and why does it involve you laying on Kate's couch?" Julia asked.
"It doesn't," Aric said as the sound of the elevator announced someone's arrival.
Aric sat up, disturbing Tyler's well earned (he had, after all, just traveled 2800 miles) rest.
The door opened a moment later and two members of the Chicago Police Department entered, accompanied by Laurel Lance.
"OK," Laurel said to Aric as she barely stuck her head past the door frame, "They are officially your responsibility."
"Thank you, ma'am," Aric said as Laurel departed while Tyler investigated each new visitor in turn.
"You're our protection?" John asked as he looked at Bruce and Aric.
"Don't look at me," Bruce replied, "I know absolutely nothing about this."
"Me neither," Julia said before looking at Aric. "Are you really their protection? Not that you wouldn't be really good at it, but...isn't it a little bit...overkill?"
"Overkill?" John asked pointing to Aric, the skepticism in his voice bordering on sarcasm. "Him?"
"Mmmrrrrrrr," rumbled ominously from deep within Tyler's chest, as his tail came up to a high position and his eyes and ears locked onto his prey, his opinion of John Dorazio's tone plainly given.
John Dorazio had lost count of the number of men, and also women, he had tangled with throughout his life, and he would not hesitate to go toe to toe with anyone; but a one-hundred pound German Shepherd, and this one in particular with the wizened eyes that looked at him like they had seen much and done more, gave him pause. There was something about the extra large canine that sent a shiver up his back, and it wasn't just the size of his teeth.
"No offense," he said to Aric as his eyes remained locked on the wolf like animal two feet in front of him.
"None taken," Aric replied as he made a soft sound that resulted in Tyler standing down. "And I'm not your protection, not really. Your protection isn't based on size or skill, it relies on distance."
"I don't understand," Meg Chander said as she looked at what was probably the most attractive man she had ever seen in the flesh.
Aric directed his next comment to Julia. "Time we got going. I need to recycle, and it's past time for someone's dinner. Tyler, come."
"Did he just say he needs to take out his recycling?" Meg asked Captain Dorazio quietly. His only response was to shrug his shoulders.
"You don't have to leave on our account," Julia said. She knew him well enough that she could tell something was bothering him, "please stay."
"Thanks. But we have to leave on their account, that's their protection," he replied. It wasn't a sphere of golden light that formed behind him this time, his left hand placed on Tyler's head to keep him from bolting into the large circle of light, through which everyone could see white sand, and dark water under an equally dark sky. It was night time where they were going, and Julia could guess where.
"Holy shit," Bruce said with his usual lack of emotion to anything strange or unusual.
"Well said," Julia said as she stared through the opening, feeling the ocean breeze and smelling the salt water. She was sure she recognized the view, and that if she stepped through and turned around and looked across Avenue Cervante she would see Aric's house.
"Come on, mutt."
His head now free, Tyler wasted no time running through the portal. He was already in the water by the time Aric stepped through. The warm air was a relief after Kate's cool apartment. He turned around to look at his two charges, who had not yet moved a muscle.
"What the fuck is that thing?" John Dorazio asked to no one in particular.
"Are we supposed to walk through that?" Meg asked in disbelief.
"It's..." Aric began to say before a soaking wet dog ran back through the portal into Kate's living room, "crap...sorry."
Tyler was wiping his hear on Meg Changer's coat when Aric called him back. Meg stared at the large wet spot on the wool garment before her eyes traveled to the wet paw prints on the carpet in front of her.
This isn't a dream. This is really happening.
"It's 80 degrees here, so you might want to lose the coats. And can you get a move on? Keeping this open is a bit of a strain."
They're fine. A bit sweaty, but fine. I'm taking them home.
Beth relayed the message to the rest of the team before she answered him.
Got it. What I said before...what we talked about...
It was the lightest contact they could have, barely the echo of words in their minds. Aric was still closed up tight to anything deeper, and she didn't have the skill to go further on her own. Beth was worried that if...when...he finally opened up again it wouldn't be the same as it had been, that something had been broken, that her insecurity, her jealousy, had damaged something that couldn't be repaired.
Aric's thoughts carried little of the warmth she had grown accustomed to, an indication that he was still in a mood as he liked to call it. She called it depression.
We can pick it up later if you want. You have your thing to focus on right now.
He was right, and she needed to switch gears. True. What are you going to focus on right now?
A bit of humor began to flavor his thoughts, which lightened her own mood considerably. Finding something for this guy to wear before he melts.
"You look like twins," Helena Bertinelli, sometimes called The Huntress, said as she looked at two of her teammates after Beth had ended her call.
We are twins, Kate thought as she looked at Beth, who was clad in Kate's old armor. She refused to call it a costume, which she considered little more than a pejorative for the engineering marvels that made up what she, and Beth, and Babs, were wearing.
"Wasn't that long ago that I didn't get along with bats," Sandra Wu-San, aka Lady Shiva, added as she looked at three women displaying symbols of bats prominently across their chests.
Four of the women had met, at various times and under various circumstances, over the years; but in all that time they had never stood in the same place at the same time, and certainly never worked together as a team.
"Times change," Barbara Gordon said as she looked at the woman clad in deep indigo dyed leather and a simple mask. Helena wore knee high boots equipped with articulated armored sections at the tops and bottoms that allowed her joints to move freely while still being well protected. The hood of her cloak was down revealing a head of raven hair.
"What?" Helena asked Barbara.
Barbara's smile accompanied her answer. "Nothing, just nice to have another woman along who's as tall as I am."
Kate was also smiling as she spoke. "She thinks being so tall makes her the likeliest target, so what she means is, it's nice having someone else wearing the bull's eye."
"Oh, fuck you; it does not mean that," Barbara replied.
Now it was Helena smiling. "Guess you two know each other."
Beth had been looking at Sandra in a similar way, but for a different reason.
"I like your jacket," Beth said admiringly, "Where'd you get it?"
Sandra was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Batwoman seemed to have divided herself in two. "This old thing? Why do you ask?"
"I have one that's a lot like it. But I've been thinking of expanding my wardrobe."
"How long have you been thinking about it?" Kate asked.
"Since I saw that jacket."
John and Meg sat on the front porch and looked out at the glowing figure hovering above the water. John guessed that he was about a quarter mile out from shore, at least that spot on the beach marked by the sleeping dog. He was halfway through his second bottle of Imperial, as his thoughts alternated between wondering how the operation to apprehend Freddy Giancona was progressing, and reflecting on how it was that he was sitting almost three thousand miles from home watching some guy glow like a giant firefly from the comfort of that guy's porch while he drank that guy's beer. If someone had told him that he'd experience even half of what he had done today, he'd have told that someone to have his fucking head examined.
Meg wasn't a real fan of beer, and had opted for a glass (OK, three glasses. it's been a fucked up day, don't judge me) of Zuccardi Q Cabernet Sauvignon. She was taking her cues from the commander of the task force she was still assigned to, and since he didn't appear the least bit rattled by stepping through...whatever that was, making the transition from Chicago to what their host had assured them was the outskirts of Buenos Aires in the blink of an eye, Meg did her best to not appear to be rattled, even though it was a complete lie; she was totally fucking rattled. When their host had walked across the road in front of his house before floating up and away, she had looked at John Dorazio in utter amazement only to see his blank stare undisturbed. So she had closed her prominently open mouth and adopted the same stare, more or less. When the glow appeared only a few seconds later, John's only response had been a uncommitted huh.
"How do you think it's going?" she asked eventually.
"Not sure. Sounds like they have enough people to get the job done. But Fredo's got enough people to stop them. If he's gotten wind that something's going down he'll have twenty bodies around him, and more guarding wherever he's holed up."
Neither of them knew for sure how large a group the three women had assembled. Meg's mind kept going back to her final conversation with Barbara as the pair stood outside of John Dorazio's truck, its three occupants waiting for her to get in for the ride back to Chicago.
"Don't go. Stay with me. They do this for a living. Let them handle it."
Barbara knew that Meg was talking about the pair of women guarding John when she said they. Neither woman had ever seen Barbara's face, not all of it; only the parts not covered by her cowl. She recognized both of them the moment she lay eyes on them. Not a difficult task in the case of Sandra Wu-San, who made no attempt to disguise her face. Helena Bertinelli, when wearing the persona of The Huntress, wore little more than a small mask. Barbara's armor disguised her face and form quite well, but it could not disguise her height, and she was mildly concerned that Helena was paying a bit too much attention to her.
"I'm just going to make some calls. Nothing to worry about. We need to stick to the plan. Go with them. Laurel will meet you. You'll be safe, and I'll join you soon."
How the fuck is she supposed to join me now? Meg thought. She's going to find a locked and empty apartment when she gets there. Are we even going to be able to go back?
A pronounced canine sneeze brought her back to reality.
"You and the consultant seem to be hitting it off," John said just before taking another sip of his beer.
That's one way of putting it, she though as she glanced at him and sipped her wine.
Meg was amazed at how calm he was before remembering the number of times he'd been shot, stabbed, clubbed, or beaten bloody. Compared to that, this must seem like a walk in the park.
"She's nice. I like her. And she saved my life."
John turned his head to look at the woman who was young enough to be his daughter.
"Yeah," he said as he looked back out at the dark ocean, "I'm glad."
Tyler stood up and shook the sand off of his fur before enjoying a full body stretch. He trotted back across the road and up onto the porch before settling next to Meg.
"Think he likes you," John said.
"What's not to like?" Meg asked as the glowing form began to make its way back towards shore.
Meg looked down at the mutt who had anticipated his owner's return by about ten seconds.
I wonder how he knew?
"Looks good on you," Laurel said to Trish.
Trish inspected what she was wearing, almost an exact copy of what Laurel wore. "This your spare?"
"No, that's Sara's. She leaves it here, just in case. She wears mostly white back home."
Trish was very familiar with Sara Lance, both fully clothed and completely naked. She didn't know exactly why the thought of Sara's perfect body wearing the outfit that she was wearing now made Trish feel slightly erotic. "I knew you worked high end security, but I never figured you for the caped crusader type."
Laurel turned a slow 360 degree circle, her arms away from her body. "See any cape on me, chica? One of the rules of the Canaries, no capes."
Would Laurel feel weird fucking someone that looked just like her sister? Trish wondered before dismissing the idea. I don't even know which way she swings.
"The Canaries?" Trish asked after a few seconds to get her voice under control.
"We also play weddings, and Bat Mitzvahs," Laurel said with a smile. "Got everything you need?"
Trish had nothing that she would normally be carrying if she and Laurel had been standing in New York, but that was beside the point. "Two hands, two feet. I'm hot to go."
In more ways than one.
"Then go we shall," Laurel said as she climbed onto her Ducati Diavel.
"What is it with you Chicago types and your motorcycles?" Trish asked as she compared Laurel's current ride with her own.
"Some of us prefer them to driving around in a stolen van," Laurel said just before starting her V4 black bike.
"Were you planning on driving around with Bill Van Dyke strapped to the back of that thing?"
Laurel revved the engine of her motorcycle twice before letting it settle to a comfortable familiar growl. "No, but I had not gotten that far in the planning, so it's a good thing you thought of that detail yourself."
"It's called teamwork, sweetie," Trish called over her shoulder as she walk to the driver's side door.
"Sweetie?" Laurel asked with raised eyebrows.
Trish turned back one more time. "Did I mention how nice your ass looks when you straddle the seat like that?"
Laurel Lance, aka Black Canary, shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you and Sara really are twins."