AN: Whew, finally done. Like I said before, not bad for something that started off as a few unignorable ideas. Many thanks to everyone who stuck by this. I'm going to be starting the sequel to my first 'fic, "A World Apart," very very soon, so keep an eye out - I hope that it turns out as well as its predecessor.

'Til then, hope y'all enjoy this!

With a soft click, the balcony door gently slid open. Batman stepped into the darkened hotel room. He knew Abrams had already been inside, but given the course of events, this was the logical place to look. If he left behind anything for Batman to see, it would be here. "Manny Bekker" still had this hotel room for another four days, after all.

His instincts proved correct. A laptop was sitting on the coffee table in front of the TV set. Abrams would almost certainly have taken, or at least mentioned, that if it had been there while he was searching. Batman sat in front of it and lifted the lid. A password screen popped up. Frowning, he was wondering if he'd have to take it to Oracle (he didn't want to risk any traps, physical or virtual, with a wrong password) when he saw the yellow sticky note sitting atop the keys.

HINT: WHO AM I?

This was obviously for him - he didn't want anyone else viewing what was on this laptop. Nodding, he typed four letters into the waiting password prompt.

H-U-S-H

The desktop appeared immediately. The only item was a video labeled "hello". Batman double-clicked on it. A man's face appeared on the screen, a face wrapped in bandages, with his parts of his nose, eyes, and occasional patches of skin peeking out in between. He wore a black top and brown trench coat, with a jade medallion hanging around his neck. If Batman had even the smallest sliver of doubt who was behind his (and Kurt's) recent troubles, it was gone now. But then, he'd known ever since Kurt's remark made him remember something from a classical education he'd once thought impractical and useless: August Immanuel Bekker was a German scholar known for a numbering system he'd created, still used today, to reference the surviving works of the philosopher Aristotle.

The man on the screen had been a childhood friend of his, growing up with his own wealthy parents alongside the Karofsky family. At a young age, he too lost his father, with his mother barely clinging to life thanks to the medical intervention of Dr. Paul Karofsky. She recovered, becoming a smothering influence in her son's life, demanding all his attention and forcing upon him the works of her favored philosopher, Aristotle.

The boy grew up to become a famed surgeon (a word that became "sturgeon" if you added a "T"), and through a series of tragic and near-fatal events, the truth about his old friend was revealed: he had actually engineered the death of his father as a mere child. He grew to hate Paul Karofsky for saving his mother's life, and later finished her off himself (an event that his girlfriend at the time, Sugar Motta, apparently participated in). A few years ago, he'd met the Riddler, and learned the secret of Batman's alter ego (a fact that the Riddler himself ironically lost after an amnesiac coma - Batman made a mental note to follow up on Abrams' possible knowledge of this whole scheme, lest it signal a return of those memories).

Ever since then, his former friend, now calling himself Hush, dedicated himself to destroying David Karofsky, whom he believed had the life he wanted, whose father dashed his plans to gain the family fortune. There were times, times when he was weary and jaded and hurting, when Batman wondered, if he wants my life so badly, why not just give it to him? He'd deserve it.

It was funny how much less he was thinking that lately, how much less tired he was.

"Hellooooo, Batman!" Hush sneered from the screen. "Or should I say, David." Batman took an instinctive glance around. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head off, I made sure no one else would be able to see this - at least, if you're not stupid enough to watch it with someone else in the room!" He paused for a moment. "If you're watching this, you're alive, which is a disappointment. I'm hoping that the Joker at least killed your precious Catwoman. I really gotta say, buddy, I didn't think she was your type... to put it mildly. Note to self: if alive, get close to her one of these days... figure out what makes her tick." Batman's fists instinctively tightened.

"But whatever weird relationship you two have, it must be special, if it got you to drop your guard the way it did," Hush continued. "It was actually pretty easy to follow and watch you without either of you noticing. Then it was just a matter of getting in touch with the Joker... Now that was a bit of a challenge. But once I told him that the two of you were close, well, it didn't take him long to get the joke.

"Yeah, yeah, you must know all of this already, if you're watching this. On the off chance that you're actually dead, and this is one of your little family, all I have to say is: he deserved it. And my job is done as far as you're concerned, so if you aren't stupid enough to come after me for revenge, I just may leave you alone.

"But no... I have a feeling you got out of this with your skin intact after all," Hush sighed regretfully. "You've always had a habit of getting more breaks than you deserve. Well, if the Joker actually succeeded in breaking Catwoman's neck... At least now you know a taste of what your daddy took from me.

"Either way, though, I knew from the start of this that I'd have to be the one to kill you. How else can I take back what's rightfully mine? So consider this a warning: you'll never know when the next feint is gonna come. And when it does, the scales will be balanced. Finally.

"So don't think you've seen the last of me. As Aristotle said, 'Evils draw men together.' 'Til next time, Davey boy."

The video ended.

"'Til next time, Sebastian," Batman muttered.

He picked up the laptop, on the off-chance that Oracle would be able to find out something about Hush's plans or whereabouts. He doubted it, though; Sebastian Smythe had always been an intelligent man.

One chapter ends. Another begins.

"Don't say anything," David warned.

"Who was going to say anything?" Quinn asked innocently. "Not me."

The two were on their standard secure communications link, sharing data and mapping out crime statistics and trends throughout Gotham, when David noticed that look on her face. During her tenure as Batgirl, David had spent enough time training her to know her moods. This was one of her more... mischievous. He'd been expecting it for a while, ever since he explained the full truth of Kurt and Catwoman.

"All I was thinking," Quinn continued, which David most certainly counted as "saying something," "is that he must really trust you if he's letting you blab who he is to your friends." She paused. "He does know you told me, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does. As long as I don't let it spread too much, and as long as one of the friends I tell is not your father..."

"He's still putting a lot on the line for you," Quinn said softly. "Like I said, he must really trust you."

"I suppose," David rumbled. He still wasn't comfortable talking about his personal life, even with his friends. Up until a few weeks ago, that was mostly because he really didn't have much to tell. And isn't that sad? His mind had the thought, but it was in Kurt's voice. Which reminded him... "I have to go."

Quinn blinked. "But... we're not quite done..."

"I trust you to input the rest of the data."

"Y-you do?" There was a moment of silence. "O-okay... I'll... let you go... do whatever it is... you need to do, then."

David smiled wryly, which further widened her eyes. "It's nothing serious, I promise. I'll talk to you later, Quinn." He turned off their link, and immediately opened another. After a few moments, an image of a young blonde man appeared on the screen.

"Hey!" Sam Evans said cheerfully. "Long time no hear!"

"Sorry, Sam. It's been... an interesting few weeks."

"Oh, yeah? How?" He paused. "Never mind. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. What's up?"

"Are you going to be going anywhere in the next week or so?"

"No, why?"

David sucked in a breath. "I think... I need to come down to Bludhaven for a short while."

"Oh." Sam's face turned grim. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'll just be visiting."

Sam's jaw visibly dropped. "Just... visiting?" He squinted at the screen. "You okay, Dave?"

"I'm fine. Mostly. I... I'm not coming because I need Nightwing. I'm coming because I'd like to visit and talk with... a friend." David raised an eyebrow. "Is that okay with you?"

"O-okay?" Sam quickly regained his composure and smiled. "Of course it's okay! I just... I mean... Never mind! Let me know when you get into town!"

"I will. It'll be sometime this weekend. I'll see you then, Sam." He shut off the connection and heaved himself to his feet. The echo of his footsteps on the stairs rang in his ears as he trudged up them, finally emerging into the hallway. This time of day, William would either be in the kitchen or upstairs.

It turned out he was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for some kind of lunch dish. It was funny - the Schuester family had been the Karofsky family's main servants for three generations now. William started his own training when he was young; one of David's more spotty childhood memories was of watching William, then just a teenager, shadowing Victor Schuester and learning the intricacies of the trade. If he'd known more of the world then, David might have asked why William was locking himself into the family tradition so readily.

But after all these years, of crying into the arms of Victor - and later his son - of watching both of them take care of the house, take care of him, he no longer had to ask; he knew the answer.

"William?"

The butler whirled, startled. "Oh! Master David! What do you need?"

"Do you have a moment? To talk?"

William frowned for a moment, but the expression quickly vanished. "Talk? Of course." David sat on a stool next to the island in the middle of the kitchen; William sat on one on the other side. The butler watched as his employer's hands worried at each other, and his concern deepened. "Mas- David...?"

"Do you..." David felt his throat close up; he had to get the words out before he chickened out entirely. "Do you think... Dad and Mom would be proud of me?"

William's face softened, something like anguish flashing across his eyes - fleeting, like a summer breeze. "Oh, Master David... Of course they would."

"But... Mom... She never liked..."

William nodded a little, despite himself. His father Victor had taught him that of all the qualities of a good servant, perhaps one of the most important was discretion. But there was a reason for that: servants often heard, and knew, much more than they were supposed to, by the very nature of their jobs. This was one of those things. "She never had a chance to get used to it, to understand it," he said gently. "No matter what she thought of your sexuality, she loved you, more than anything. I think that's one reason she was so upset; she just couldn't reconcile the two. But if she'd had time, I think... no, I know... she would have accepted it."

"Dad always wanted me to become a doctor, like him," David continued, feeling himself starting to ramble. He blinked back tears. "God, I can't imagine what he must think of what I'm doing now..."

"Well, I'm sure that he wouldn't like that you're putting your life at risk night after night, not letting yourself breathe, out of guilt over something that wasn't your fault." The servant's words were blunt, typical of his tone whenever speaking of Batman. David sometimes wondered if that too stemmed from familial or paternal concerns - William not wanting to disappoint his late father by losing his employer on his watch. But it was certainly more than that; William had done too much, been too much, to doubt that. "But at the same time," the butler continued, "I'm certain that he'd be very proud of the good you've done, of the lives you've saved, perhaps far more than you ever could have as a doctor. And don't forget Karofsky Enterprises, all the good it has done under your command. Surely you can't think your father wouldn't be bursting with pride over that?"

"I..." David rubbed his face with one hand. "I don't know. I just miss them so damn much..."

He felt a hand on his shoulder; he looked up startled. Somehow, in those brief moments, William had gotten up and silently circled the island, now standing behind him and looking at him with such a gentle look. He could teach Batman a thing or two about stealth, he thought wryly.

"I miss them too, Master David. But as my father always said, the best thing we can do is... live. Have the best lives we can, and do our best to pay tribute to those who came before, so their efforts don't go to waste. I have... reservations about how you've chosen to do so..." And that, David thought, is an understatement. "But I have no doubt whatsoever that your parents would be proud of you."

David swallowed; it was a good few minutes before he was able to rise. "Thanks."

"Of course." There was a momentary pause. Then William wrapped David in a tight, almost familial hug. David froze, startled for a moment, then slowly raised his arms to return it. He remembered - a flash of a mental image - a little boy crying, a red-headed teenager kneeling on front of him and hugging him, muttering "it's going to be okay..."

After a while, William separated from his employer. "Will there be anything else?" he asked smoothly and formally.

David couldn't help but smile. "No, that'll be all."

"Very good, sir. Lunch will be ready at noon promptly." He glided back to the counter and continued chopping vegetables as if he'd never been interrupted.

David nodded to himself and left. He had a nap to take - he had a long night ahead.

They found each other on the roof of Karofsky Enterprises's main headquarters. This was no coincidence, of course, and it seemed apt at the time. Batman was there first; he spent a moment gathering himself before he heard the crunch of boots on gravel.

"Did you do it?" Kurt had his voice changer off, so the rich high countertenor voice that met David's ears sent shudders through him.

"Yes."

"Good. Family and friends are good things. Maybe the only good things." He cast a glance Batman's way. "You're lucky, you know. You have people who care about you, even if you don't want them to."

"They'd be safer if..."

"Bullshit. You think you'd be safer. Then you don't have to 'let down' anyone. Well, guess what: they're willing to take the risk. And so am I." Kurt took a breath. "I'm not letting you keep the walls up anymore. I know too much about you now to let you do that to yourself."

Batman nodded. "You're a very... persuasive man."

Catwoman shrugged. "When you were under the Scarecrow's gas... I worried about you. It... you put too much on yourself."

"If I don't do it, no one else will."

"Maybe that was true once, but the world's a different place now. You've already established a foundation that could even save Gotham. You don't need to..."

"I do," David replied bluntly. "I'm sorry you don't understand that... But then, I don't understand your thrill-seeking either."

Kurt shrugged again. "Granted." He licked his lips. "So... about that..."

"I don't approve," Batman said flatly. "If I caught you, I'd have to do something about it, especially if you went over the line."

"I told you, I'm not that kind of man."

"And I believe that. Nevertheless." He paused. "Still... I can't be everywhere at once, no matter how much I want to. There are often things going on that have to take priority over simple breaking and entering..."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Really."

"Yes." The voice that issued from Batman wasn't his - it was David Karofsky's, choked, pained... yet it continued. "And if those crimes that aren't as high priority don't leave much evidence, and don't get too big... there's not much I can do, is there?"

"No... No, there isn't."

"Don't let me catch you." His voice was still David's, this time pleading.

Kurt couldn't help but grin saucily. "I'd say you already did."

Batman snorted. "Funny," he said, his Batman voice returning. "Just... be careful."

"I always am." Catwoman stepped forward, closer to Batman, who didn't flinch in the slightest. "You sound better, though."

"Are you taking credit?"

"No. Well, maybe a little." He grinned. "I like to think I helped loosen you up a little."

"'Loosen me up'... Yes, ignoring crime has always been what I needed to do."

Kurt was practically up against David now; he slipped his lithe arms around the other man's waist. David didn't move - shudder, perhaps, but not move. "I'm sorry," he said. "Not for being the way I am, but... that life had to make us this way. Maybe... in another world, this would've been easier."

"I have a feeling that we wouldn't have been 'easy', no matter what the circumstances."

"You're probably right." Kurt sighed, pulling himself tight; Batman's cape caressed his cheek.

"Do you really think we'll get anywhere?" Batman asked quietly. "That we'll overcome... everything about all this that's wrong?"

"If you don't want to at least try, I'll understand..."

"No!" Batman cleared his throat, as if trying to push back the emotion that had infused that single word. "I mean... I do. Want to try. I just..."

"I know it's hard, but that's what makes it worth doing. It's a motto that explains a lot of what I do, I think. Well, that and..."

"'Life's too short not to go for what you want.'" David turned back towards Kurt with a smile. "I do pay attention."

"Good." Kurt sighed and closed his eyes.

"Are you intending to stay like that forever?"

"No. Just a little while more? Please?"

"... Okay."

The cold night wind battered them both. For just a while, they both forgot: about their lives, their tragedies, the differences between them that made this whole relationship absolutely insane... They forgot. They were just two men who, somehow, fell in love.

Finally, reluctantly, Catwoman released his grip and stepped back. His fingers brushed his throat, and his voice once again became modulated to a female pitch. "I need to go."

"It's late. What are you going to do?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?"

Silence. "No."

"Thought not." He turned to go, but stopped. "David..."

"Yes, Kurt?"

"..." There were so many things he could say at this moment, so many things he wanted to say. Finally, he settled on: "This weekend... I feel like salmon."

Batman looked back at him, his lips pressed in something that almost resembled amusement. "I think I can swing that."

"Great. Until then, darling." Catwoman took a running leap over the edge of the building and vanished from sight.

Batman stared at the empty space for a moment before turning back towards the city - his city. A signal appeared, stark against the clouded nighttime sky: a circle of light with a dark bat-shape stamped in its center. He nodded to himself. There'd be time for dinners, plans, personal struggles later.

It was time to go back to work.