They lay for a long time twisted around each other, Kurt lazily stroking Blaine's bicep, enjoying the peaceful moment in silence. Afterward they enjoyed a great luxury. Blaine had room service bring up coffee. He got dressed and sat for a long time in the arms of a green, black and gold leaf lounge chair, sipping coffee and meditating about the next few hours. Kurt, in the midst of a hot shower, hummed and splashed and burst out with random bits of song a few bars at a time.

"You made a good deal when you made that deal," he called out teasingly when he had shut off the water; dripping, he appeared bare and pink at the bathroom door. "We androids cant control our physical, sensual passions. But you knew that, didn't you. In my opinion you took advantage of me." It was said with a playful tone. Kurt seemed more cheerful and relaxed than he ever had in Blaine's presence. "Do we really have to go track down those three andys tonight?"

"Yes," Blaine said. Two for me to retire, he thought; one for you. As Kurt put it, the deal had been made.

Gathering a giant white bath towel around his hips, Kurt said, "Did you enjoy that?" 

"Yes."

"Would you ever go to bed with an android again?" 

"I would if it was you.” 

Kurt began drying himself vigorously. “Do you know what the lifespan of a humanoid robot such as myself is? I've been in existence two years. How long do you calculate I have?”

After a hesitation he said, “About eight more years.”

“They never could solve that problem. I mean cell replacement. Perpetual or anyhow semiperpetual renewal.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said.

“I'm sorry I mentioned it.”

“And this is true with you Nexus-6 types, too?”

“It's the metabolism. Not the brain unit. Burt and Sue have the best researchers working on it, though. Who knows? Maybe they'll find a solution before my eight years are up.” He began to dress.

Then together, saying little, the two of them journeyed to the roof field, where his hovercar had been parked by the pleasant white-clad human attendant. As they headed toward the suburbs of San Francisco, Kurt said, “It's a nice night.”

“My goat is probably asleep by now,” Blaine said. “Or maybe goats are nocturnal. Some animals never sleep. Sheep never do, not that I could detect. Whenever you look at them they're looking back. Expecting to be fed.”

“You know,” Kurt said, “I've heard far more about your goat than about your wife. What is she like?”

“I don't really want to talk about her,” Blaine said stiffly.

“Do you – ”

“If you weren't an android,” Blaine interrupted, “if you weren't a man…if I could legally marry you, I would.”

 “Or we could live in sin.” Kurt laughed, then abruptly stopped. “Except I'm not alive.”

“Legally you're not. But in reality you are. Biologically. You're not made out of transistorized circuits like a false animal. You're an organic entity.” And in eight years, he thought, unless the Sylvester-Hummel Association comes up with a miracle cure before then, you'll wear out and die. Because they haven't solved the problem of cell replacement, as you pointed out. So I guess it doesn't matter anyhow.

This is my end, he said to himself. As a bounty hunter. After Karofsky and Lopez there won't be any more. Not after this, tonight.

“You look so sad,” Kurt said.

Putting his hand out, Blaine touched Kurt's cheek.

“You're not going to be able to hunt androids any longer,” he said calmly. “So don't look sad. Please.”

Blaine stared at him.

“No bounty hunter has ever gone on,” Kurt said. “After being with me. Well, there was one. A very cynical man. Sebastian Smythe. And he's insane. He works out in left field on his own.”

“I see,” Blaine said. He felt numb. Completely. Throughout his entire body.

“But this trip we're taking,” Kurt said, “won't be wasted, because you're going to meet some truly wonderful people – Dave, Santana, and Carson.”

“Do you know all of them?”

“I knew some of them, when they still existed. Rachel and I had been close, very close friends for almost two years. We used to sing together and dream of being stars on Broadway before she was sent to Mars.” Kurt smiled wistfully. “I guess I'm glad she did get to live that dream, if only for a short while. What did you think of her? Isn't her voice marvelous?”

“Yes, I found her voice nearly heartbreaking,” Blaine said softly.

“But you killed her.”

“Sebastian Smythe killed her.”

‘Oh, so Sebastian went back with you to the theater. We didn't know that. Our communications broke down about then. We knew just that she had been killed. We naturally assumed that you killed her.”

“From Shannon's notes,” Blaine said, “I think I can still go ahead and retire Karofsky. Probably Lopez, too.” But not Carson Philips, he thought. Even now; even knowing this.

“I think you'll find that you can't.” Kurt said matter-of-factly.

“So all that just happened at the hotel,” he said bitterly, “everything we said and did – all of that was just – ”

“The association,” Kurt said, “wanted to reach the bounty hunters here on Earth. We tried to stop you this morning, before you started out with Shannon's list. I tried again, just before Azimio Adams reached you. But then after that I had to wait.”

“Until I broke down,” Blaine said. “And had to call you.”

“Yes. I figured it was inevitable,” Kurt said blandly. “It was quite clear that you were attracted to me. The association has tried many methods over the years to stop bounty hunters. This method – to put you out of business one by one – seemed to work…for reasons which we do not fully understand.”

“I doubt if it works as often or as well as you say,” Blaine said thickly.

“But it has with you.”

“We'll see.”

“I already know,” Kurt said. “When I saw that expression on your face, that grief. I look for that.”

“How many times have you done this?” Blaine asked, willing himself not to shudder in horror.

“Oh, I don't know,” Kurt said airily. “Seven, eight. No, I believe it's nine.” He – or rather it – nodded. “Yes, nine times.”

“I don't believe you,” Blaine said hollowly. “There can't be that many bounty hunters that are – that would – ” He rubbed his jaw in frustration. “Surely it would make more sense to use a woman for these seductions. After all, most men would be more attracted to – ”

“The association has women who do this too,” Kurt said dismissively. “Remember Quinn Fabray, who met you on our roof, along with Sam Evans? We usually start with those two to test your reactions and decide which one of about a dozen of us would be your best match.” Kurt studied his nails with a critical expression, pressed a cuticle back with his thumbnail. “Our analysts studied your every move through our extensive surveillance equipment.” He looked at Blaine and smirked. “I'm really good at this, so I usually handle all of the bounty hunters on your end of the Kinsey scale.”

Blaine remained silent for a moment, jaw held tight. Finally, he said, “The idea is rather old-fashioned for such a modern company.”

Startled by Blaine's biting tone, Kurt said, “W-what?”

Pushing the steering wheel away from him Blaine put the car into a gliding decline. “I'm going to kill you,” he said. “And go on to kill the other three alone.”

“That's why you're landing?” Apprehensively, he said, “There's a fine. I'm the property, the legal property, of the association. I'm not an escaped android who fled here from Mars. I'm not in the same class as the others.”

“I don't care,” Blaine said coldly. “If I can kill you, then I can kill them.”

Kurt's hands dove into his coat pockets, searching frantically.

“Looking for this?” Blaine asked, aiming Kurt's laser gun at him. “I took it from your coat pocket while you were in the shower. I knew it wasn't a fake.”

Kurt's eyes flew open wide and he sucked in a shocked breath. Gripping his thighs so tightly that his knuckles turned white he asked in a trembling voice, “Will you kill me in a way that won't hurt? I mean, do it carefully. If I don't fight, okay? I promise not to fight. Do you agree?”

Blaine said, “I understand now why Sebastian said what he said. He wasn't just being a cynical, heartless prick. He had learned too much. Going through this – I can't blame him. It warped him.”

“But the wrong way.” Kurt seemed more externally composed, now. But still fundamentally frantic and tense.

The car now swooped almost to the ground. Blaine had to jerk the wheel toward him to avoid a crash. Braking, he managed to bring the car to a staggering, careening halt. He slammed off the motor, still pointing the laser tube at Kurt.

“At the occipital bone, the posterior base of my skull,” Kurt said. “Please.” He twisted about so that he didn't have to look at Blaine or the laser tube.

Lowering the laser tube Blaine said, “I can't do what Sebastian said.” He snapped the motor back on, and a moment later they had taken off again.

“If you're ever going to do it,” Kurt said, “do it now. Don't make me wait.”

“I'm not going to kill you,” Blaine said wearily, steering the car toward downtown San Francisco again. “Your car's at the hotel. I'll let you off there and you can go back to Seattle.” He had nothing more to say. He drove in silence, focusing on the task ahead and willing away the phantom feel of Kurt's skin beneath his hands, the ghost of Kurt's breath huffing against his mouth.

Kurt switched on the radio and the rich, melodious sounds of Mercedes Jones rippled through the car. Kurt sang a soft harmony that danced above and below the melody filling the car from the speakers.

And there'll be peace and quiet, smoldering tonight

Peace and quiet, marking time between the fights

You can pray for gentle weather, and the strength to live together

And cry yourself to sleep

In the peace and quiet, dark and deep.

Unable to listen any more, Blaine stabbed at the radio button and immediately the car was plunged back into silence. He could hear his own angry breaths, shallow and forced.

“You've gone the way of the others, you know.” Kurt's voice was steady and assured. “The bounty hunters before you. Each time they get furious and talk wildly about killing me, but when the time comes they can't do it. Just like you, just now.” Kurt fished about in his coat pockets again, pulling out a small plastic container of breath mints and popped one in his mouth. Around it he said, “You realize what this means, don't you? It means I was right. You won't be able to retire any more androids. It won't be just me, it'll be Dave and Santana and Carson, too. So go on home to your goat. And get some rest.” He crunched down on the remainder of the breath mint and swallowed.

Blaine said nothing. Beside him in the darkness Kurt sang sweetly under his breath, continuing the song from the radio, his vibrato an unwavering index of his achievement. His victory over Blaine.