A/N: Hey guys. In this chapter, there is a a sex scene that leans toward M, but I didn't go into too much detail because I'm trying to keep it T. This is your warning. I hope you enjoy, and a bigger note is at the end. So without further ado, the last update!

Bruce came to slowly; first aware of his own breathing, then the light streaming through the window and hitting his eyelids, and then a far-too-familiar voice.

"Glad you're up. You look like a mess."

He cracked his eyelids open just a little bit, in order to see Dick sitting in a wooden chair by his bedside.

"Talk to me when you get rid of that mullet," he managed to croak.

Dick snorted at the comment. "Well played. Glad to see you're still an asshole after almost dying."

Bruce tried to heave himself upright in the pillows, but stopped at the immense pain in his side.

The smirk vanished off Dick's face as he reached forward instinctually; then he seemed to know better and put his hands back by his sides. "Don't," he said semi-sternly, "You have a bunch of broken ribs."

"I gathered," Bruce replied with gritted teeth, sinking back into the mattress. "What happened."

Dick waved his question away with one hand. "Oh, you know; you sacrificed yourself saving the day, until Alfred hauled your ass back to the land of the living. The usual."

Bruce ignored his flippant tone. "And… Barbara? Diana?" He waited with bated breath.

Dick rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. "They're fine, Bruce. Everyone is fine." His voice lost the mockery for a second. "We won. It's over."

"It's never over," Bruce replied gruffly. "I thought I taught you that."

"Oh, shut your trap," Dick said, and leaned forward. "Why didn't you call me? I know you're stubborn, but not this stubborn. I would have left Bludhaven in a second to help. I even wanted to."

"I know," Bruce said. "That's why I didn't." At Dick's puzzled look, he shook his head.

Dick stared at him. "Bruce, you never make any sense." And he seemed ready to leave the topic well alone, but for some reason, Bruce felt the urge to explain, to lessen the tension between himself and the one he regarded as a son. Maybe it was the near-death experience rearranging his priorities.

Or maybe he was high off the meds. Likely the latter, but-

"Dick, when you retired your mask as Robin and decided you were done with me and what I did, I took it seriously," Bruce said, being careful to look at him directly in the eye.

"I punched you in the face, Bruce, you don't have to sugarcoat it," Dick said. Bruce ignored his jab.

"You wanted to go on your own mission, so why should I call you back to mine. Do you understand?" he asked, because Dick was looking at the ground now, pensive.

"Why do you have to go and have these good intentions behind stuff like this?" The eldest grumbled, and straightened. "I'm going to make this clear right now. I left, and it's true, I want to make my own way in life, but that doesn't mean I don't want to help you now and then, either. I…" For once, Dick stammered- like Bruce, he wasn't so good at being genuine- "don't want to attend your funeral."

I love you.

That was about as close as Dick would get to saying it to Bruce.

Bruce stayed silent at the admission, until Dick spoke, wryly. "Why do we always have these misunderstandings?"

He wouldn't be saying what he said next if he weren't feeling rather floaty off meds. "I guess that's just how it is."

Dick was puzzled. "How it is what?"

"Between fathers and sons."

He'd probably regret saying that later, but when Dick finally got off his chair to hug him, he thought that no, maybe he wouldn't.


The Watchtower was abuzz, a day and a half after. The public fiasco in Metropolis had left many doubting the League's prowess, and the publicity department had never been busier. Superman, on the other hand, when not busy fielding questions, was slumped in the Monitor Room, rubbing his forehead tiredly and thinking.

So when Diana walked in, he didn't even seem to notice until she tapped his shoulder.

He jumped. "Diana! How are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "Much better." And so was Barbara. It relieved her that she hadn't done too much damage. "Gotham City seems to be recovering well, too. Most people made it out alive. They're lucky." She paused. "But I'm here to ask the same to you."

Clark closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. "I've been thinking, Diana. I screwed up. Badly, in Metropolis. But there's a reason why and-"

"I know," she interrupted. "And you're right. We need to try, one last time."

He looked at her with pleading eyes. "Will you?"

She stared into his earnest, sky-blue eyes with a gentle firmness. "We need to do this right. You have to do it."

Superman rubbed his temples, staring off at the metal table's surface without really seeing. "I don't know if he'll listen… Sometimes he just doesn't see reason…"

"Clark," she interrupted, hands on hips. "He respects you, although he might not show it. He'll listen this time because I'm positive he gets it too. You just need to be genuine."

He nodded a few times at her words, as if seeking to reassure himself. "Yeah…" His head came up, and he cleared his proud throat. "How… how is he?"

She pictured his bruised and battered body, lying on that cot, looking like Hades had already taken him, and suppressed a shudder. "He's going to be fine. At least until I get my hands on him," she added, a bit darkly.

To her surprise, Clark laughed. "I think he's starting to rub off on you, Diana."

"He'll see you now," said Alfred some hours later, stepping out of Bruce's bedroom.

"Thank you, Alfred." The butler nodded and disappeared around the corner of the hallway. She stood from the armchair; it had been a long day, and then she'd come down to check on Bruce and he'd woken up, finally. She was ready to beat some sense into him. Metaphorically.

But as soon as she stepped into the room, the afternoon sun shining lazily in, and saw him, wearing a thin pair of white cotton pants and nothing else as he struggled to swing his legs over the bedside, all she could do was run a few steps forward and hug him.

He wheezed a little into her hair, and she was reminded that he was injured. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, setting him down, a tad unceremoniously, back onto the bed. He really shouldn't be trying to get up anyway.

She looked him up and down. His thick dark hair was sticking up in all directions, but his skin was a healthier colour again, and his ice-blue eyes were full of keening life and intelligence once again. Satisfied of his health, she let her eyes roam the rest of his body. She hadn't seen him shirtless in a while, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't quite like it.

He finally cleared his throat. "Take a picture, Princess. It'll last longer." He coughed a little, then smiled wryly. "Literally."

She frowned at the implication, and was suddenly reminded of all the reasons she was angry. "You are a fool," she exclaimed, poking a finger into his chest rather forcefully. "You almost got yourself killed!"

He ruefully rubbed the spot where she'd jabbed him with one large hand. "That risk comes with the territory. You know that."

She did. And she told herself, she respected that. They were both heroes, and they had to take risks. But he took the most insane ones, she reflected. "Barbara- she's well?" she asked suddenly, unable to stop herself.

He examined her closely, and she tried to keep a rein on the guilt until he nodded. "Yes."

She exhaled, and then turned her attention back to him. "I was so worried," she ground out angrily, and he looked so unrepentant and sleepy with that small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, so she leaned forward and kissed him because she couldn't help it.

He made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but she kept at it, kissing his lips repeatedly until he finally grabbed the back of her head and kissed her back, forcefully.

She wasn't really completely aware when he guided her down onto the bed- honestly, the man was a force to be reckoned with in these matters, even when injured- and then she was straddling him, legs on either side of his waist, and one of his hands trailed her side as he bit playfully at her bottom lip.

Her lips parted slightly, and he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue in. And so the dance started again, a little slower, a little more sensual. Her hands, fisted in his hair, slowly made their way down his neck and collarbone, stroking lightly over the muscles as they tensed and coiled.

A second later, he pulled away.

"What?" she asked; trying to chase his lips with her own, but he turned his head away, expression stony. They were both breathing hard.

"Bruce?" she asked again. His jaw, so appealingly displayed in profile, clenched. She bent forward to kiss it, but his hand was at her shoulder suddenly, stopping her. "You should probably leave," he said in monotone.

She was affronted. What was this about? She knew he still wanted her; in fact, she felt his attraction beneath her. What was this change of heart? "What's wrong?" she asked carefully. "Bruce, look at me."

He didn't. But he spoke. "I didn't choose you."

"Didn't choose me?" she repeated, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

His Adam's apple bobbed a few times before he answered. "When… all this was happening, I knew you were in trouble."

She leaned back slightly. She had, admittedly, thought he had been too busy with what was happening to even know what was happening to her; and was surprised to learn that even in the midst of it all, he had kept tabs.

His eyes closed, tightly screwing shut as if in pain. She wanted to kiss away all the pain in that brow. "I chose Gotham, over you." He took a great, rasping breath, and what he said next seemed to take all his energy to say unwaveringly. "We need to end this, Diana."

"That is ridiculous!" Her anger came roaring back at his words. "You need to stop running away from your feelings, Bruce." He still refused to look at her, but she didn't care. She needed him to get this. "We talked about this. It's not your fault."

"It is," he fired right back, and finally turned to look at her. Their faces were a few inches apart, but the tension between them was anything but sexual. "You were in Gotham, because of me. That's why you got captured. You got captured- and tortured, from what Barbara told me- because Talia wanted to get to me. And then, because you were still here, you got hit by the fear gas and you attacked Barbara, which you think is your fault. I could see it in your eyes earlier. You feel so much guilt. You're feeling the pain that I feel, and that's a pain I never would wish on my worst enemy and least of all you. You're feeling that, Because. Of. Me," he ground out. "If we were not involved, none of this would have happened to you."

She stared at him, at a loss for words at the passion crackling in his eyes.

"You need to leave," he said flatly at the hurt clearly shining in her eyes. "I'm sorry you were caught victim in Bruce Wayne's endless line of women." His voice was cold. "Too bad I never really got you into bed."

That hurt, but only because she knew he was trying to. He was trying to hurt her, make her feel like he thought nothing of her so that she would leave forever and Bruce would have successfully ripped away another piece of his soul without blinking- but she knew the truth. She knew it. But his eyes were so cold, so unrelenting, that it almost made one believe...

She didn't know what to do, to understand what he was feeling inside. She knew he was on edge. What she said next could either push him away forever, or finally tip the scales in her favour. And he was expecting her to fight him. He always expected a fight.

So she did the only thing he was not expecting right then- she kissed him.

Not like before, but softly, on his cheekbone, making sure her lips lingered and communicated all her fondness even if she was in turmoil right now.

She leaned back, and saw his acting waver. His eyes were full of surprise and tenderness and frustration and every emotion he had tried to shutter away.

She took his face in her two hands. "You listen to me, Bruce Wayne," she said firmly. "When I said I would never make you choose between Gotham and me, I meant it. Batman made the right choice. Because I can take care of myself, and I did. I can deal with my emotions healthily, too," she said pointedly- he ignored this. "I don't want to change who you are, Bruce," she said earnestly. "Because you have always been a man who was so incredibly capable of love, despite everything you have been through. I don't ask you to save me from villains or wait on me or take me out to dinner or shirk your duties as Gotham's protector. All I ask is that you allow yourself to love me like I know you do."

Her last words were a gamble on her part, but when his breath hitched, just so slightly enough for her keen senses to detect, she knew she was right; and her heart soared.

She waited for him to say something, anything, and now she was ready for a fight, because she wasn't letting him go again- and then he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, just like she'd done to him. The soft touch brought a giddy feeling to her stomach.

Then he kissed her on the other cheek, and she leaned into it, eyes closing. His effect on her had always been intoxicating. His kisses were like butterfly wings, fluttering over her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her throat, her nose, her eyelids.

His lips hovered, finally, tantalizingly, over hers before he hoarsely whispered, "Done," and then kissed her tenderly on the mouth.


It was a bit later when Diana's League Communicator beeped, and Diana looked at it from where she was lounging in the sheets. They hadn't had sex or anything, due to the fact that, no matter how well he hid it, his ribs were really killing him and she could sort of tell.

So instead they had leaned into each other and got caught up on what had happened, filling in the blanks and Bruce leaving out the most violent parts in order not to cause her worry.

He watched her lean forward to grab her communicator with lazy eyes. She listened, and murmured, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

When she straightened, he said, "Duty calls?"

"Indeed," she agreed, and leaned forward to quickly give him a peck on the mouth. He grabbed for her waist but she dodged away. "I have to be there in a few minutes, Bruce," she reprimanded, but there was an easy twinkle to her eye. She looked happy.

And it was because of him.

The thought was incredibly difficult to get his head around. He couldn't recall being the source of real happiness to anyone. He hoped fervently that he would always be able to make her happy.

For once, he brushed away the voice in his head that said at some point, he was going to screw this up.

He just had to trust her. Trust her when she said she would take care of herself. Trust her when she said that she didn't care. Trust her blindly. It went against every instinct engrained in him.

Maybe that was what love was, he thought with a touch of wryness.

When she left, he immediately got out of bed, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and went downstairs to the Cave.

He thought he would be alone there, but was surprised to see Tim and Barbara, wearing their sparring gear and sitting on the mats, talking. He kept to the shadows for a moment to watch them.

Their faces gleamed with sweat; they'd been practicing, but now they sat laughing at a shared joke.

He finally made his presence known.

"Barbara, you're not in shape to spar, it hasn't even been two days," he said, stepping into the light. They both turned to look at him, and the laughter faltered.

"Says the guy who died the other day," Tim said lightly. There was an undercurrent of tension. Bruce didn't know what to say to them. He wasn't high on meds right now. But there was something he needed to say.

Tim and Barbara stood then, as if of unspoken agreement between them. "We'll leave you to it," Barbara said a little flatly, and the two of them made their way to the stairs. As if that was it. They helped him on one day and then back to the reserve for them. He might agree with them.


"Wait," he called.

They stopped, turned.

"Where do you think you're going?" He nodded at the computer. "These cases aren't going to solve themselves, you know."

Tim and Barbara stared, dumbfounded, their mouths open in perfect Os that he found amusing. "You- you mean it?" Tim stammered.

Bruce regarded them seriously. "You're both important to me," he said, a little awkwardly. "I hope you can understand why I made the choice to keep you out of it." Barbara crossed her arms, a scowl forming on her features. Bruce took his time continuing. "But I've realized… it's really not my choice, is it? It's who you are." He nodded at them, knowing they could hear his pride; now leaning heavily on his chair because god his ribs hurt. "Robin. Batgirl."

The grins on their faces made everything- everything- worth it.

Days later, when he was alone, suited up, in the cave, he heard Superman scuffling his boots in the Cave. Immediately, his guard was up. "Kent." He turned away from his computer.

The man in red and blue was standing in front of him, and he looked uncomfortable. "Hello, Bruce."

Bruce waited.

"I'm here to ask you one more time," Clark said. "To rejoin the League." When Bruce said nothing, he hastened on. "What happened a few days ago only proves my point, Bruce- the miscommunication between the League and Batman was preventable. It can be prevented in the future if we work together and share information. If we become a team again. We need -"

"I know," Bruce interrupted him. "You need me. I've come to realize that."

Bruce reached around and pulled his cowl off, revealing his piercing blue eyes. But Superman realized there was something more the man wanted to say.

"When you came here before… you never really let me finish," Bruce said, hands clasped behind his back now.

Clark was confused (and it showed) amidst his relief. "What are you talking about?"

"About the contingency plans," Bruce said. "You asked me if I ever thought to make a contingency plan for myself."

Clark raised an eyebrow.

"You were right," Bruce said, and the admission was almost painful for him. "The Justice League can stop me. But that's not all."

Clark remained unimpressed looking.

"I have thought at length about what would happen if I went dark, believe it or not," Bruce said with some amusement. "And you know what I concluded? If anyone knows me well enough, they can defeat me. That's not just the Justice League. Even more" He nodded up at the endless ceiling, up at the manor above- "all those people up there. And honestly, they'd probably get to me first." He grinned, and he knew it startled Clark to see it. "So if I ever go bad: Those people are your greatest allies."

He watched Clark be taken aback for several seconds before he regained composure. He was being trusted with this information, and that wasn't something that Bruce ever took lightly. Perhaps Clark understood the significance of that leap of faith. "I'll take note," Clark replied, and smiled as well. "So- you're coming back?"

"The League needs me," Bruce said matter-of-factly, and Clark rolled his eyes at Bruce's arrogance, "and I- somewhat- need the League. We work better together and I'm not so stubborn as to let the world burn because I don't want to work with you. So yes, I'm coming back." He extended a hand. "Part-time."

Superman took it. "In name only. We all know you like spending your off-shifts reorganizing the logbook."

"Someone's got to do the dirty work," Bruce said, and there was a smile in his voice.


It was a rather lazy Sunday afternoon, or at least it would be if his name weren't Bruce Wayne. As it were, Bruce was testing his latest batch of Batarangs in the Cave; Alfred was upstairs, dusting; Dick was back in Bludhaven and Tim was off with friends. Idly twisting the Batarang in his hands, he reflected on the fact that he was going to a Founder's Meeting today. It might be a little strange.

For everyone involved.

He wasn't going to pretend like he was better off on his own all the time. Most of the time, yes; but both groups tended to blunder when certain information went unshared, and he had realized that. What had happened was a textbook example of miscommunication. Maybe he had been just a little bit wrong. He'd admitted as much to Kent.

His computer speakers buzzed. "Sir, a Miss Prince at the door to see you."

He pretended not to notice the skip his heart made. "In a minute," he said casually, before sending the Batarang zinging through the darkness and making a schock sound when it hit it's mark in the dummy's chest.

He padded up the stairs, hands stuffed in pockets, and swung through the entrance into the house. He was greeted by a flash of dark hair and a kiss on the mouth.

Diana slung her arms around his shoulders and grinned at him. "Hello."

He let his eyes smile in response, wrapping his own arms carefully around her waist. "That'll be all, Alfred," he said without looking away from her.

He ignored the smugness in the butler's voice as he was dismissed. "Of course, Master Bruce."

When he left, Diana frowned. "You didn't have to come up for me. Weren't you working?"

Had this been anyone else, then he would say he'd been doing work, but… "I was kind of screwing around," he admitted with a little smirk.

"'Screwing around'," she repeated, brow furrowing. "Meaning…?"

He shook his head, a half-laugh at the back of his throat, and kissed her. She responded eagerly, in kind. They hadn't been together for days and days- that was just how their lives were- and they could not get enough of each other now.

When Diana started tugging at his shirt, he broke away. "Upstairs," he said raspily, and their was a little gleam to her eye when she understood.

They didn't quite make it to his bedroom before she began to kiss him again. Impatient, he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as if this was a familiar dance to them.

They sank into bed in a frenzy of limbs and movement, and then he stopped, hoisting himself off of her with his forearms, to look her in the eye and ask, "Are you sure?"

She was a vision beneath him, hair fanning out around her head, beautiful eyes half-lidded, swollen lips; and then she was reaching down her body and his eyes followed to watch her unlatch her armor from around her middle. "Bruce," she said with a sexy little smirk. "I've been waiting for this a long time."

That was all he needed; her stripping down beneath him was an incredible turn on, and he leaned back down to bestow a soft kiss on her throat. She tugged at his thin shirt again, and this time he let her peel it off him, enjoying the way her eyes watched the fabric pull away and reveal his skin underneath. She tossed it to the corner of the room, licking her lips.

"You next," he said.

He helped her take the armor off, until it was all lying in a pile at the base of the bed, and then she was a little too enthusiastic with his chino pants- ah well, he had plenty of those anyway, and then it was all breath on skin and hands on skin and skin on skin and they enjoyed the deep physical intimacy that finally finally finally reflected their emotional one, until they were one and he didn't know where he ended and she began. He buried his face into her neck, rocking slowly deeply into her, arms braced on either side of her head, and her head lolled back with pleasure and her heels dug into his back- faster, faster- he knew what she meant and he gave it to her because he wanted to make absolutely sure it was perfect.

It was.


And when it was over, and they were lying on their backs beside each other, and their breath was gradually beginning to even out, she was frowning.

He was instantly worried she could tell, and rolled over onto his stomach to look more closely at her. "What is it?" He paused, licking his lips. "Was it not… good?"

She half-laughed at the thought, as if she wasn't still dazed in the aftershocks of her pleasure, as if he hadn't made sure she couldn't stop moaning the whole time. It had been even better than she'd expected. "No, of course not. It's just…" She looked up at the ceiling, cleared her throat and unsure of where to begin. "You know how my people- and I- feel about men."

He smirked then. "I know how you felt about one man in particular a few minutes ago, when you were screaming his name-" She hit him with her arm, not hard enough to really hurt him but enough to elicit an "ow".

She continued. "It's just… I didn't expect to like being beneath you so much." She swallowed. "I can't help but wonder if that's wrong of me. I was raised a proud woman. Would my mother be ashamed?"

He was silent for a moment, taking in what she meant. Chewing his lip a little, which made her want to kiss him, but she resisted because she expected an answer. He finally spoke. "I can't speak for your mother..." (Diana snorted) "But what happens in the bedroom doesn't usually translate to outside of it, Princess. It's not wrong to feel desire…" he trailed a kiss down her collarbone, and she shivered- "Even for a man. And, obviously, you're not submissive to me. You are a proud woman. Who happens to enjoy sex." He grinned wickedly, making her feel warm. "But next time you can top if you want."

She understood what he was trying to say, and he was right. She shouldn't be ashamed of her sexual preference, and although her mother might have her head if she knew what she'd just done, it didn't make her less of a woman. "Perhaps," she smiled fondly.

He adopted his vacant playboy swagger for a moment. "That would be so hot," he airily said, and she laughed and hit him again.

They lay there for a while, in post-coital bliss, until Diana finally voiced the fact that they had a meeting soon. Bruce grumbled under his breath, she swatted him. "Let's go."

"You go," he countered as she sat up. "I can't go with you. Not everyone knows we're..." He paused, and she watched him confront his hesitation. "Together."

She understood his need for privacy in the double life that he led. Although it would be nice to be able to kiss him while he was in uniform; maybe some of the younger League members would stop making eyes at him. But she would settle for this happily.

"Alright," she said, getting out of bed and reaching for her armor. She felt his lusty gaze on her naked back and tried to ignore it. She was unsuccessful.

He snagged her wrist and pulled her down on the bed. "I think there's enough time for another round," he murmured into her hair. She couldn't agree more.


The Founders Room was just like when he had left it so many months ago, swirling in a fit of anger. He ignored the curious eyes that followed him through the hall that led to it and as the door opened for him.

They were all sitting there; Superman, J'onn, Flash, Shayera, Green Lantern, and, beaming with happiness, Wonder Woman.

Diana. He refused to let his gaze linger on her, even though she'd been moaning his name some twenty minutes ago.

And next to her, his empty chair, as if he'd never really left.

He knew for a fact, from his own intel, that it had never been filled in his absence. And although he would never admit it, he was a little- a little bit- touched.

Flash was the first to speak. "Bats!" he exclaimed, and zoomed to Batman's side, his arms outstretched for a hug before he saw Batman's glare and thought better of it. Batman glared at him until Flash finally sat back down, a little sheepish.

Then, because he couldn't help it, because inexplicably he felt a certain fondness towards the youthful speedster, he said: "Nice to see you again too, Wally." His voice was as stern as he could possibly make it.

Everyone laughed, and the tension broke.

"Welcome back, Batman," said J'onn in his usual grave voice. As he sat down, he watched their faces carefully, and realized with some relief that none of them seemed to be quite hostile towards him anymore. Time had softened their grievances and opened them up to his perspective.

Satisfied, he settled in as Superman stood to give a report. It felt like it was only yesterday that he'd been here with the others, zoning out during Clark's speeches and solving cold cases in his head out of boredom.

He never thought he'd miss being here, but he felt like… He felt like something had been corrected, some small uncomfortable imbalance that had finally been righted. He knew things were prone to fall apart at a moment's notice- hell, probably tomorrow- but today, just today, the world felt right. Like he was finally where he needed to be. And he sat there, puzzling over what to call the feeling- until he finally grasped it.

A little bit of happiness.


A/N: Whoo! This is the end. It started with the Justice League and it ended with the Justice League. I tried to tie it all together, you can let me know if it worked. :) Anyway, who knew that I would get here? This is the longest thing I've ever written in my life and I'm so immeasurably proud of it, no matter it's quality. But I never would have gotten here by myself.

Everyone who's ever read this story, the people without FF accounts who follow along, the people who just prefer to read and stay in the background. Thank you for reading this story, and sticking with it.

Everyone who's favourited or followed or left a review once in a while. It's amazing to me that something I wrote has ended up on peoples' 'favourite' list. It's so cool, truly it is, and when you leave comments it seriously makes my day. Thank you for reading, and thank you for loving it so much.

And especially, to everyone who's been with me since the start and reviewed every chapter, to everyone who PM'd with me late into the night, and to everyone who cared (you know who you are): Thank you so, so much. I never would have been able to do this without you and your encouragement. You seriously mean a lot to me. Your reviews, your words, the fact that I knew without a shadow of doubt that there were people out there, in the world, who cared about what I wrote, was what inspired me to finish this story. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Now something else- what's next for me? Well, a sequel is a MAYBE at this point. When I started this story, I already had a good idea for a sequel (an idea that I actually really love), but I didn't expect this story to be so damn long. It's taken a lot out of me, I'll admit. I need a break from it. So basically, I'd love to write a sequel, but a) I need to flesh out the idea and b) I want to dabble a bit in some other fandoms for a bit.

But you can bet I'll be back. BMWW is my OTP of all OTPs. In the meantime, you might see some one-shots from me.

And hey, feel free to PM me anytime! Whether to offer suggestions for prompts, vent about whatever stupid decision DC is making now, or just to say hello, I love to hear from you.

So, that's all I wanted to say. One last time, I hope that you'll leave a review- and either way, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the ride!