"They're going through the brewery right now," James Gordon said. "Last count, sixteen men, dead as Julius Caesar, plus some blood trails as well, so some of them made it out alive, more or less. Just to be clear, neither of you were they last night, right?"

Laurel shook her head. "Nope, we were at Van Dick's house waiting for the hit men he'd sent to spring his trap."

Trish rolled her eyes. "For fuck sake, Van Dyke."

Laurel's face and voice were the model of innocence. "Really? You don't say."

"Oh, fuck you."

"You wish," Laurel said with a smile that was almost a lear.

James Gordon felt that if he didn't nip this verbal foreplay in the bud they would be standing here all day. "You were saying...house...hit-men...trap."

"Right. Trish guessed that he was watching his house, waiting to see who showed up. When he saw it was us he figured we were an easy target. He sent those two assholes to take care of us."

"How'd that go down?" Jim Gordon asked.

"Never underestimate the advantage of surprise."

Trish stopped right in front of the camera by the gate. She made sure to stand far enough back to be completely in view and in sharp focus before taking a step with her left foot before pushing off and using the camera housing as a step for her right foot. She was over the gate a second later and in the alley that ran parallel to Bill Van Dyke's house. Laurel was behind her quickly and the two women walked steadily towards the front of the house. Neither of them had located any other camera, but both were sure that at least one other camera existed, and they wanted to be sure that their progress to, and then through, Detective Van Dyke's front door was thoroughly observed.

"Cameras on the inside too, do you think?" Trish had asked as they finalized their hasty plan.

"Maybe. We'll have to assume we're being watched, audio and video," Laurel replied.

"So we keep our mouth's closed and our eyes open. We make it look like we're tossing the place, but keep our ears open for someone else joining the party."

Laurel was nodding her head in agreement. "Right."

Sixty seconds later they were over the gate and into the alley. One minute after that Trish had forced the front door and they were inside the warm, dark interior. They walked down a long hallway that ended in the kitchen. There were offset doorways at the mid point on the left and right.

"If I remember correctly, you have excellent night vision," Laurel said to Trish as she produced a small led flashlight.

"I do, but with that canon you have in your hand I don't think I'll need it."

"Not unless we split up," Laurel said as they began to make a mess of the first room they entered, the doorway on the left leading into the dining room.

Trish left Laurel on her own and walked the short distance to the other doorway, and the living room beyond. In just a few minutes the room looked like a hurricane had passed through. She proceeded up the stairs to the second floor. She turned on the hallway light and walked the short distance to the first door, which was clearly Bill Van Dyke's bedroom.

"Wow," Trish heard Laurel call, "check it out!"

Trish returned to the kitchen where Laurel was staring at the contents of a cabinet filled with liquor.

"Expensive taste," Trish said as Laurel looked at a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label before handing it to Trish.

Trish twisted off the cap and took a health sip of the wonderful amber fluid.

"Yeah, he shouldn't be drinking this. Tastes spoiled," she said as she handed the open bottle to Laurel.

Laurel drank from the bottle, the excellent bourbon in no way tarnished, but Trish's plan clear as day. "I think you're right," she said before upending the bottle in the sink.

Seven other bottles of very expensive alcohol soon joined their old cabinet mate."Not that one," Laurel said as she rescued a bottle, "The Dram Select, 21 years old. We're gonna need something to drink later. You know, to celebrate."

Trish flashed her wide smile, her mood improved by the healthy shot of Johnny Walker. "I like how your mind works."

Laurel hadn't failed to notice the looks Trish had been giving her. "Just my mind?"

"Don't start something you can't finish," Trish replied with a devious smile just as her enhanced hearing detected the sound they had been waiting for.

"They're here," she mouthed silently.

"I was never worried," Laurel whispered as she turned her flashlight off and put it back in her pocket.

They walked back into the hallway before entering the dining room. Except for the light coming from the hallway upstairs the house was still dark, and in the unlikely event that Van Dyke had a live camera in the house it would have to be a model equipped with night vision to see them clearly; but Trish was still aware that the men about to enter the house might know exactly where they were. But if the men did what the women dressed as Canaries expected them to do they'd be lured by the light from above, and pass them by on their way to the door that led to the staircase.

Both women felt the draft of cold air that entered with the two men. Laurel heard the door latch click back into place just before the tread of two sets of soft sole boots approached at a deliberate pace. Trish had long since calmed her mind in preparation for what was about to happen, and it gave her a moment to consider what Sharon would have done in her place.

She'd have shot them both through the wall, then finished them off as they lay there on the floor, Trish concluded as her mind went back to the field operative who, with the appropriate makeup, was the spitting image of the world's most famous actress.

Trish and Laurel were crouched as low as possible hugging the wall that separated them from their prey. It was an old house, with lathe and plaster walls; sturdy, but not sufficient to stop a bullet.

There was a creaky section of flooring in the living room. Trish had identified it immediately when she was turning everything in the room over, and she knew exactly how she would use it.

A small but powerful flashlight illuminated the dining room but Trish and Laurel were hidden in the shadow of the doorway. If the man had taken even one step into the room they would have been seen, and Trish's plan would have been blown. But the man's partner made a quiet hissing sound and the light turned away. Trish heard the men pause as they surveyed the ruined living room. Seven seconds later she heard the familiar sound of creaking floorboards and she nodded at the woman who was looking at her.

Trish was the first one through the door. Her kidney punch to the trailing man's right side immobilized him immediately as pain flooded his body and brain. But the man did not have long to suffer as a spinning kick struck the right side of his head, throwing him to his left and into his partner.

Laurel simply leapt over the falling man, passing Trish by less than an inch as her rising knee caught the leading man under his chin as he stumbled under the weight of his unconscious friend. The sound of his silenced weapon firing in the small space was barely noticeable, the bullet striking the box newel post as Laurel's axe kick struck the back of his head.

It took less than ten minutes for Trish to retrieve their stolen van and drive it to the front door of Bill Van Dyke's house. During that time Laurel searched for something to use to restrain the two men. They had just finished loading them into the van when Laurel made one last dash into the house, only to return a moment later with a bottle filled with amber liquid.

"For later. You know, the celebration?"

"If he was watching it all live he would have split the moment we started carrying these two lard asses out to the van," Trish said.

"But we got their burner phones, so we have the number he was using," Laurel added, "it's gonna be another burner, and he'll have left it behind, but at least we can find where he was squatting."

"There was a safe in his bedroom," Trish remembered. "I only caught a glimpse of it before Laurel made her big find. Someone needs to go through that, and the rest of the house, with a fine tooth comb."

"Your big find?" James Gordon asked.

"Nothing important," Laurel said as she looked at Trish and the two women exchanged smiles.

"Counselor, do I even want to know how an Assistant State's Attorney and a...what's your official title again?" he asked Trish.

"Regional Strategic Communications Manager for the North Eastern United States."

Jim Gordon had seen her in action, and recognized a bullshit title when he heard one.

"Nice," Jim Gordon said to Trish before redirecting his attention to Laurel, "the two of you took down the two of them, and neither one of you has a scratch on you?"

Laurel held up her left hand, from which she'd removed her black leather glove. "I cracked a nail."

In that moment Laurel Lance reminded James Gordon too much of his daughter for him to inquire further.

"Sorry to hear it. I'll give you a ride to the hospital."

"Thanks for the offer, but we've got someplace we need to be," Trish said.

The number of occupants in Kate's apartment remained the same, though the occupants themselves had not. Trish and Julia had exchanged places with John and Meg; and Kate did not fail to notice the muted reunion between Meg Chander and Barbara Gordon; muted, but only because the two women were in the presence of others. Kate was sure that when they were finally alone that they would become much more animated.

Good for you, kiddo, Kate thought as she looked at the pair. Her own reunion with Barbara had been subdued but also happy. Kate was relieved to see the young woman unharmed, whatever bruises she acquired during the raid well hidden by her warm clothing. Laurel and Trish had been afforded almost no time to recount their own excursion before the portal had opened. Barbara's face spoke to her amazement at the phenomena, as did Laurel's; and both of them looked tempted to make the transit, but now was not the time. They both had information to share that required their presence, and the opportunity to do so was not long in coming.

"What happened to my bodyguards?" John said sarcastically as he looked around after stepping back into Kate's living room.

Laurel Lance answered a question with a question. "You want the truth, or you want something you can repeat in court?"

"What's the safe answer?" Kate asked.

"They are currently exploring other avenues of information."

"What's the unsafe answer?" John asked.

"They're torturing two of Fredo's men from the brewery."

What followed could only be described as stunned silence as all eyes rested on ASA Lance.

"You're fucking with me, right?" John asked skeptically. The look he received from Laurel was dead serious.

"You're not kidding?" Meg asked.

It seemed that every question put to her was answered with another question.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Barbara said. "I mean, I knew they were bad asses, given how many men they killed, but that was in the heat of the moment, with bullets flying everywhere. But...well..."

"Men were killed last night?" Meg asked.

Jesus, how naive are you, sweetie? Barbara wondered.

Kate saved Barbara the effort of explaining how she knew any details of a raid that she hadn't attended. "Everyone Helena and Sandra targeted died. I killed the man who shot Beth, plus three or four others, and a half a dozen more who were probably alive when we left but might have bled out later. Beth...she wasn't carrying any weapons, it was all hand-to-hand for her. If anyone died it wasn't because she'd intended it. She hasn't...not since..."

She hasn't killed anyone, not since she came back to us, Kate was trying to say, but the words were stuck in her throat.

"We..." Barbara began before catching herself, "We knew it was a possibility. They were raiding a mobster's hideout, and we were positive that he'd be heavily guarded." Her words were intentionally vague, and she hoped that Meg, and the captain, would assume that her use of the word we meant my father and I.

"And you're OK with this?" John Dorazio asked Laurel, his voice growing louder with each word.

Laurel's voice rose just as loud as she spoke. "What exactly gives you the impression that I'm OK with this?"

"We're looking for the people who tortured and killed three men, and your friends torture and kill even more men in the process?"

"Not ideal, I'll give you that," Kate said. She was in no mood to be forgiving towards the men who had almost killed Beth, and her tone of voice could only be described as acerbic.

"Nothing they say will be admissible," Meg said, seemingly the only calm voice in the room, "not if they were coerced."

"Assuming they survive the interrogation," Barbara added, which she privately doubted.

"Coerced. I like that word," Kate said in the same tone. "They're coercing two men to reveal the current whereabouts of Fredo Giancona."

"You're a fucking smart ass, you know that?" John said as he pointed a thick sausage like finger at her.

"Jesus, you sound just like my father."

Kate had to remind herself that while her identity as Batwoman was known to these two cops, Barbara's identity as Batgirl was not. But her anger at what happened to Beth had been on a low simmer for a while, and hearing the two members of the CPD acting like a couple of novices was more than she could take.

"We knew going in that this wasn't going to be a capture and remand to custody situation. No mobster in history ever went to jail quietly. We didn't go in there to arrest Freddy Giancona. We didn't go in there to collect evidence we could use in a court of law. We went in there to find out who ordered the murder or three men that were connected to a weapon that could wipe out North America, and I almost LOST MY FUCKING SISTER IN THE PROCESS!"

John Dorazio's face was beet red, while Megan Changer's face was as pale as her heritage would allow.

Laurel felt an urgent need to bring the temperature down quickly. "I think what Kate is trying to say is that this was never going to be bloodless, and by the warrantless nature of the raid it was never going to produce any usable evidence. We thought you understood that going in, and I apologize if it wasn't made clear to you."

"But torture?" Meg asked.

"None of us were consulted," Laurel said, "and at that point there was no one left to stop them. We don't know where they are, and after what we just heard about them I wouldn't want to be the one to stand in their way, not for the sake of two of Fredo's hired goons."

"I'm sorry I yelled," Kate said after a moment. "None of this is your fault, either of you. I'm not angry at you, I'm just angry."

John took a deep breath, and then let it out before he nodded gently. "Your sister almost died. You're still upset. Most natural thing in the world."

Kate smiled slightly as she stuck out her right hand. "Thanks."

John Dorazio smiled back as he captured Kate's hand in his extra large paw. "You're still a smart ass."

Kate nodded as she made eye contact with the man that stood a head taller than she did. "That I am."

The three women, accompanied by a soaking wet dog, walked slowly north along the beach. It was forecast to be a warm day, with temperatures reaching 80 degrees, and the two women who'd recently arrived from Chicago were now wearing what was left of Beth's beach ensemble. Their reunion had been quite emotional. Trish was not prone to tears, but Julia had shed enough for both of them, as had Beth when Julia's sobs had reached a certain point, her arms still wrapped tightly around the woman who had come so close to death only the day before. Trish had her arms around both women as their heads found an accommodation that allowed them to converge somewhere in the middle. Trish was the first to release her hold.

"Not a mark on you," Trish said when she got her first clear view of Beth's face. "Still got all your teeth?"

Beth's smile was in no way feigned as she looked at her field partner and her command and control partner in turn.

"Don't you do that to me again," Julia said as she held Beth at arm's length, the tears still wet upon her face, "I couldn't take it. I was so scared."

Trish leaned forward and whispered something into Beth's ear, which caused her smile to grow considerably larger, and her eyebrows to reach for the sky.

"Oh, really?" Beth asked as she looked at Julia.

"What?" Julia responded as she looked at each woman in turn before settling on Trish. "What did you tell her?"

"Just the truth," Trish said as she placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Leave the two of you alone for five minutes, and you end up in bed together," Beth said to Julia as she shook her head in mock disapproval before laughing as her friend's face turned bright red.

"God," Julia simply said as she hid her face.

Beth leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I love you. He's a good man, and you're a good woman. You're a good match."

Trish had been worried how her near death experience would affect Beth, whether she would withdraw or, despite Aric's ministrations, would she begin to exhibit signs that Alice was returning. But her friend and partner seemed, at least on the surface, to be the same woman she'd seen almost every day since their meeting last July.

Tyler's serpentine path was a constant threat as they continued on their path to nowhere in particular. It seemed that even with an extended life span he had not learned to stay out from under foot, and each of them had to pay attention or pay the price.

Trish and Julia had promised Kate that they would not discuss what happened, or anything else related to the WMD, with Beth; at least they wouldn't be the ones to bring it up. If Beth mentioned it, if she needed to talk about it, then fine. But Trish made a brief sortie onto thin ice before retreating again.

"The women who stayed behind passed along a message that they hope you're doing OK, and they want to visit when you're up to it."

Beth remembered the three women, one of whom had been dressed very much like Kate and Beth had been, and for a very good reason. She hadn't had a chance to talk to Barbara or Kate about it yet, something she hoped to remedy soon.

"I feel fine," Beth said, which on the whole was true, even if something felt a bit off, "a bit tired still, which Aric says is normal after recovering from such a catastrophic injury, but besides that I feel fine."

"Well, don't rush anything," Julia said as she locked her arm in Beth's, "give yourself time to...don't shake, don't shake, don't...dammit!" Julia shouted as a soaking wet Tyler ran up to them before shaking all the excess salt water from his fur.

"Great," Trish said as she wiped water from her face, arms, and legs while the smiling mutt presented his soaking wet head to Beth for scratching, "just great."