A/N: Hello hello! Thanks for all the reviews - I appreciate all the feedback and support.

Enjoy!

Chapter 36

Beyond

The cold air of Gotham's night was like a cleansing breath over Robin.

For the past three hours he had felt like his head had been submerged under a powerful, intoxicating current and only now had he managed to break free. Had he really watched Slade kill someone and then be okay with the brutal action? Would he have defended the man if he had decided to kill Professor Chang?

Renegade...

How much of it had been an act?

Robin…

How much of it had been real?

Who wore the mask now?

His hand shook as he pulled out the datapad, trying to focus his thoughts on the mission at hand and push the haunting thoughts out of his mind. His eyes grazed the screen, washing over all the locations he had traversed alone. He had hit all the locations Slade had marked and had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. All the locations had been wiped clean.

A dead end.

Perhaps Slade had better luck.

Robin reached up to his ear to trigger the communicator, but the boy paused as his hand rested on the smooth, cold metal.

There had been another reason Robin had asked for the south side of Gotham. He could spot the familiar outline of the foreboding spikes from a few miles away.

The city was quiet. As Robin looked around the skyline, all he heard was silence. It was as peaceful as it was unsettling. Gotham shouldn't be quiet. Perhaps Batman had been doing more crime clean-up of late than the man had let on. The boy ruefully smiled as he dropped his hands, knowing full well that was not the case.

The quiet never lasts long.

It was a phrase Batman had used many times when the boy had been with him. There had been many nights when a young Richard Grayson had sat on the highest ledge of Wayne Manor and had been found looking over the oddly serene skyline of Gotham. Some nights Bruce came and sat with him, but as the boy got older, Bruce had stopped coming, leaving the child alone to drift between his liminal thoughts. On one of those rare nights when the pair had been together, Bruce had repeated the statement, and the Bat signal had lifted into the sky only moments later. Gotham always had an uncanny sense of humor.

The boy stood as he jumped off the skyline, feeling his body being taken away by the hands of gravity. His grappling hook latched on to a nearby building, and with a jerk, he started soaring down. Air rushed by his face as his feet skidded across the gravel path, kicking up dust and dirt in a cloud around his form. He rolled forward, retracting his hook and rising to his feet in a well-rehearsed, seamless motion. The boy quickly scanned his surroundings, wary of the eyes that always seemed to be watching in Gotham.

Robin was just glad none of the criminals had taken advantage of the Caped Crusader's disappearance. It had almost been a week now, but it was long enough for rumors to start circulating the ears of the undercurrent. It wouldn't be long before the whispers planted the seeds of a tantalizing opportunity in the minds of Gotham criminals.

Hopefully by the time the seeds had started to sprout, Bruce would be back, and Robin would be back with the Titans…

The boy's feet crunched under the gravel as he retraced a familiar path through a foreboding line of trees.

The simple thought of the Titans made him flinch. He should contact them. He should let them know he was okay. He should loop his team in on all that had happened.

But the boy hesitated.

They would want to come. They would want to help. They would be mad. They wouldn't understand. And ultimately, their trust would be shaken – again.

Red X blinked into his mind and just as quickly as the memory appeared, the boy tried to blink the image away. The trees loomed over the boy's head as he felt himself shrinking within their menacing bounds. Robin hoped that he could clean up the mess and return to his team without them ever knowing what he had done. The blood glistened on his gloves as he holstered his grappling hook – without them ever knowing who he had placed his trust in.

The trees gradually petered out, revealing a tall, black iron gate that wound its way up, high into the night sky. Robin snorted as he grabbed onto the first bar and hoisted himself up. When he had been eight, the fence had been a bit of a challenge. The boy launched himself over the highest point and scaled his way down, landing without so much as a scuff on his body.

Now the challenge was all gone.

The dark mansion rose up in his eyesight like a haunting specter in the dismal sky.

What if he had stayed?

What if he had never left?

The boy moved forward, knowing full well three alarms had already gone off, alerting the mansion's single occupant of someone's approach. Hopefully, Alfred had enough sense to disable Bruce's auto-defenses. The boy really didn't want to fight his way through a horde of fire power just to get a chance to knock on the front door.

Slade would have never happened.

The masked man would have never become so engrained and entrenched in his life. Slade would have been a distant mask – one that Batman may have mentioned but the boy would have never seen in Gotham.

The Titans would have never happened.

The thought caused a deep pang to travel through his body. He wouldn't trade his team for the world. Starfire's green eyes blinked at him. They were his family.

Bruce is your family too.

The thought caused him to stop dead in his tracks in front of an all too familiar door. He vaguely breathed a sigh of relief that Alfred had recognized him and therefore hadn't tried to smite him like a normal intruder. His eyes traced up the doorframe. Paint had begun to chip away, leaving little speckles of gold covering the concrete entryway. He remembered it being larger when he had left.

He didn't know what he considered Bruce. The man was a lot of things, but family? To disown him as family seemed harsh, but to claim the man as his father seemed wrong. There was no place Bruce seemed to sink into easily. He pushed the boundaries, never quite settling down into a stable place in Richard's life. The boy lifted his hand to knock as the door suddenly whooshed open.

For a single, blinding moment, all of Robin's concern dropped away to nothing.

"Master Dick?"

For the first time in a long time, a genuine smile broke across Richard's face.

"Hey, Alfred."

The night hung like a leech around the man, draining him from the last remaining dregs of energy in his body. Ra's hadn't offered any useful information about Batman's missing whereabouts. There were moments when Slade could tolerate the centuries-old pile of dust, but on most days, Slade was simply annoyed by the man's cryptic overtures. As obsessed as the man was over Batman, Ra's had offered little valuable information regarding the whereabouts of the so-called Detective.

All the man had done was vaguely toss some threats around about Batman and his overprotective tendencies over his little bird.

Slade snorted.

Where had Batman been when he had snatched his bird and caged him?

Nowhere.

At first Slade had been a bit offended that Batman hadn't cared enough to stop by, but perhaps after a few months Batman would have finally caved in and tried to break Robin free of Slade's clutches. The masked man had prepared for that option though. Bats wouldn't have gotten very far…

The man traced the pathway of the alleyway, gliding to the edge of the street. Dawn would be here in a few hours, and they should be on their way back to Jump if Robin was going to get some sleep. Slade could survive a few more days without a blink of rest, but if he wanted to be sharp, a few hours would go a long way for himself as well.

Slade's eye scanned the skyline, searching for the shadow that had become so familiar to him over the past few days. A subtle frown creased the man's face. It had taken him some time to deal with Ra's bothersome games and search the remaining pieces of the city for clues regarding the Joker's whereabouts. He thought Robin would have beaten him here.

He tapped his communicator in his ear, but hesitated.

Was it Robin or Renegade now?

A tiny snip of the man wanted to keep using Renegade and continue to distance the boy further from the name that bound him to his hero ideals. But the other, more realistic, part of Slade reminded himself that the boy would hardly appreciate the shift in names. The facade wasn't real; there was no need to pretend it was.

It had been an odd feeling. When Robin had risen and claimed the name as his apprentice, Slade couldn't help for a moment but wish the action had been real. The boy had looked beyond the morality of death and overcome his heroic ideals for the briefest of moments. Slade couldn't repress the thrill that had traveled through him when he thought of the subtle action. How easy it would have been to push the boy a bit further…

"Robin."

The word traveled through the communicator, and the man waited. There was another piece of Slade – a deeper part of his self – that whispered perhaps pushing the boy at all was a mistake. He didn't have the best track record with apprentices, and he had little room for error here. Slade sighed. Perhaps entwining Robin deeper into his life had been a mistake.

"Robin."

The word was sharper this time as Slade moved from the shadows. He was in the middle of the city, but Robin was still nowhere to be seen.

He frowned as a twitch of an emotion eroded its way through him.

What if he had missed something?

The thought rushed through the man's head as he raced through all the details of the night. What if one of the suppliers had given the boy more trouble than he had anticipated? What if another villain had intersected him? What if the boy had gotten himself tied up in some spontaneous vigilante mission? What if the clown had decided to come back to Gotham?

"Robin, answer me."

There was a thin edge to his words now.

Or what if the boy was just ignoring him?

All were a possibility. Slade pulled out a datapad and punched in a few codes. He had placed a tracker in the boy's suit before they had left. He hadn't told Robin about the small device to selfishly save himself a few rounds of arguing and to more realistically prevent the boy from removing it during their expedition. A red dot blinked onto the map, and the frown dug deeper into the man's face as he realized the boy was on the very south end of Gotham.

It shouldn't have taken Robin this long to scout out a few locations. Just what had gotten into him? Their comm system was still up and functioning so either the boy was incapacitated by something or Robin was choosing to ignore him.

A growl pieced through his lips. Slade predicted the latter over the former.

"Answering is not an option, Robin. I sug – "

And then it hit the man. An irritated sigh slipped through his lips. Perhaps a few hours of sleep would do him some good. The masked man felt more exhausted than normal.

"Why must you always make things difficult?"

So that was why the bird had really wanted to switch with him. The man shook his head as he flicked his comm off and put away his datapad. It appeared as if Slade hadn't been the only one with ulterior motives when splitting up. While the boy hadn't outright lied, he had certainly omitted a few of his intentions. While the masked man had anticipated something like this, he had ultimately decided that the boy wouldn't have had the guts to do it. From Slade's knowledge, Robin hadn't been back there in years.

Curiosity glimmered in the man's mind as he moved from the shadows and turned his attention south. He was curious. This was perhaps the only time the man would ever be able to catch a glimpse at the Bat's hideout without serious repercussions. Perhaps he could whittle away at some of the bigger secrets the man kept concealed.

But oddly enough, the idea of gaining access to Batman's secret lair didn't spark Slade's interest as he made his way through the winding routes of Gotham. His thoughts instead turned to Robin and his past. The boy had spent the last of his childhood years within the walls of that dark, foreboding mansion. What had it been like? How had Batman trained him? Who had helped shape his mind? What had made Robin leave?

But more importantly…

What had Batman done to drive him off?

As obsessed as he had been over making Robin his apprentice, there were many details that were still a mystery about the boy. There were large gaps in Slade's knowledge about Richard Grayson's complex history – holes that had remained unfilled despite the masked man's persistence. Perhaps he could whittle away at some of the feathers that made up the bird.

However, knowing Robin's closed lipped nature, perhaps not.

Even if he never found out the answers to those questions though, Slade had one that he would rip out from the boy's closed lips.

Why wasn't he answering?

Slade growled as he moved forward, determined to end some mysteries one way or another.

"Would you like anything to eat? Perhaps something to drink?"

Robin remained wedged between the doorway to the formal dining room. His feet felt as if they had been cemented to the ground. If Alfred was tired from being startled awake in the dead of night, the man didn't show it. Perhaps it was the years of experience he had gained with Bruce's excursions that made the dedicated butler immune to being exhausted during odd hours of the night.

"No Alfred, thanks though."

At the words, the older man stopped on his trek to the kitchen and turned, staring expectantly at him. The man tugged at his dark robe which covered the edges of his pajamas, and Robin sighed as an odd silence filtered between them. Perhaps he should let Alfred carry on with the normal societal pleasantries if only to stall the upcoming conversation for a few more moments. The boy cleared his throat, keenly aware of the thick layer of grime that had crawled into his mouth in the past two seconds.

"You know, maybe a glass of water," the boy mumbled as he hesitantly stepped into the room. Alfred smiled and disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

With a sigh, Robin moved deeper into the room and came to stand beside the long, dining table. His finger trailed along the edge of the thick oak as memories trailed into his mind. Bruce had forced him to sit through many long, monotonous dinners when he had been younger. Eventually Robin had perfected the art of slipping from his seat and snaking away to the kitchen to save himself from sitting through the entire duration of boring adult conversations. Bruce had been mad at first, but then the man had stopped caring.

The story followed an all-too familiar pattern of the man's actions that Robin had learned to recognize and hate from his childhood. Bruce's concern had always quickly faded away to apathy.

His finger was clean from any dust as he inspected it, flicking away the invisible trigger. Alfred never failed to keep all the rooms in pristine condition.

He gradually peeled off his shoulder plates and set them on the table. Shedding the armor made him feel a bit more normal and a bit less like an imposter within his own home. He pulled the communicator out of his ear and set it down on the table, pulling Slade out of his mind for a minute. The masked man was probably close to wrapping up his end of Gotham, but until Slade contacted him, the man could wait a few minutes before hearing any updates.

Alfred entered and held out the glass to him. Robin took it with a smile as he studied the older man. There were a few more wrinkles and a few more crystal, white hairs than the boy had remembered. The thought caused the slight smile to fade from his lips as he glanced down at the cool, clear liquid. The ice clinked in the glass. Alfred had gotten older, and so had he. A light silence settled over the pair again as the ticking of the clock wound its way between them.

"I've missed you, Alfred."

The words almost disappeared within the droplets of water, drowning away in the tidal waves of pain the boy suddenly felt. He looked up and before he knew it, a pair of strong arms had skillfully wrapped their way around him. Robin tensed at the abrupt contact, but quickly relaxed and after placing the water down on the table, returned the hug with equal vigor. He melted into the embrace, forgetting for a moment the troubles of the world around him. It had been years since he had seen the man, and the boy truly meant what he had said. Suddenly, the room around him didn't feel as cold. Suddenly, he remembered the days where Alfred would chase him around the dining table in a wicked game of hide-and-go-seek.

Suddenly, he felt at home.

"I've missed you immensely, Richard."

Warmth flooded through the boy as a burning sensation tugged at his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for the mask that hid the traitors away. The man gripped his shoulders as an odd light entered his eyes. His eyes scanned up and down the boy's frame, searching, evaluating, and seeing how the years had taken their toll. Alfred sighed, his countenance shrinking under an invisible weight.

"But why are you actually here?" he asked softly.

The boy grimaced as he dropped his eyes to the floor. They both knew that he hadn't come to visit and make amends for the time that had passed. A twitch of guilt slipped between Robin's steely resolve.

"Batman's missing."

Alfred nodded, pressing his hands against his charcoal, robe.

"For almost a week now."

"I'm looking for him."

"And that requires a new uniform because…"

The man trailed off, waiting for an explanation.

At the mention of his attire, Robin flinched. The walls practically screamed at the lies he had dragged inside with him, and it obviously hadn't flown underneath Alfred's radar. He was an imposter in his own home, and both knew it.

"The Joker."

The two words thudded into the conversation, yet Alfred seemed unaffected by the gravity they held.

"He normally finds a way out," the older man remarked. Robin was already shaking his head, however, as he breathed a deep sigh.

"It's different this time."

Perhaps it was the tone that he had used – cold, defeated, detached. Perhaps it was the way he had turned, hunching over from the sheer burden of the truth. Perhaps it was the lies that he had sealed behind his lips, weighing down each word. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't taken his mask off yet. But the older man knew. In that brief moment, Alfred knew why Robin had come home.

"Richard," the older man said as he reached out, placing a tentative hand on the boy's shoulder, "what happened?"

Robin deflated under the touch as he leaned back against the edge of the table. Bruce would normally scold him for sitting on a piece of antique furniture and abusing it so. But Bruce wasn't here. It was only Alfred, himself, and the dark memories of his past lingering around the pair.

A sigh.

"It's been a long, few years, Alfred."

Like a blaring strike of a gong in the deathly silent room, the clock ticked on. How much did Alfred know? How much had the man kept up with over these long, strenuous years? Robin considered asking but thought better of it. What was he hoping to gain from the outcome of that conversation? He had come to the manor to search the Batcave for clues – at least that's what he had told himself – yet he had no desire to walk down to the depths of the foreboding cave. He had no desire to unearth more of his past.

"Robin."

The boy whipped around as his communicator blared in the silence. A pair of beady eyes locked onto his gaze and glanced down at the communicator resting precariously on the edge of the old dining table.

"Who is that?" Alfred asked as his eyes began to narrow in suspicion.

The boy quickly swiped the communicator off the table and clenched it in his hands, hoping to drown out the voice between his fingers.

"Oh – that's uh – a uh just a friend," he finished quickly.

"Robin, answer me."

The boy internally swore as he started fumbling with the communicator, trying desperately to figure out how to turn the device off. Why didn't Slade ever make an off switch for anything? And why had he set the blasted thing so damn loud?

"It does not sound like the Titans," Alfred said as he took a step closer and a warning note entered his voice, "Richard."

Robin flinched at the emphasis on his name. He sure hadn't missed that during his time with the Titans.

"It's err complicated."

"I have the time for an explanation."

The communicator buzzed again. This time Slade sounded absolutely furious.

"Answering is not an option, Robin. I sug – "

The boy quickly began speaking over Slade's annoyingly loud voice, hoping that perhaps Alfred wouldn't identify the speaker.

"I don't think you really want one AHH – "

A sharp pair of fingers pinched his ear and yanked him forward, throwing the boy off-balance.

Another thing he really hadn't missed since leaving.

"Richard Grayson, I expect an explanation."

Oh boy.

He had used the full name.

Between Alfred's annoyed voice and the man's pincers for fingers, Robin wasn't left with much room to maneuver out of the situation.

"AHH alright – alright, Alfred," the boy cried out, throwing up his hands in surrender. The man stepped back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. With a sigh of relief, Robin rubbed his sore ear.

"Geeze," the boy muttered.

Alfred frowned at the remark and glanced down as the communicator buzzed again.

"Why must you always make things difficult?"

The pair locked eyes as a thin smile slid over the older man's face.

"I would also like to know the answer to that question."

Robin rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at the man. He nimbly avoided a hand that came achingly close to his ear again and breathed another sigh of relief when Alfred suddenly seemed more amused at the situation than mad.

"Look I need to answer him or he's going to be pissed," Robin remarked as he glanced down at the metal brick in his hand. The question Slade had just asked normally preceded the man's explosive anger, and after such a long night, Robin wasn't keen on defusing the bomb that was Slade's mood swings. "Well he's already pissed, but we still need to get back to Jump and I – "

A horrified expression crossed Alfred's face, multiplying the man's numerous wrinkles.

"It's nearly 5 A.M."

Robin shrugged.

"I know.

"Stay."

The simple word was uttered with a mixture of concern, pain, and a twinge of longing. Robin's eyes softened as they gradually fell to the floor. The grandfather clock at the edge of the dining room ticked, quietly weaving its way into the space.

"I can't."

A hand appeared on his cheek. The touch was warm and kind, carrying with it years of understanding.

"You sound like Bruce."

Robin smiled at the ground as he felt the warmth traveling to his cheeks.

"I know."

A faded silence filled the room as the word lingered in his mind and imagination. What if he just stayed the night? He could make up some excuse so that Slade would let him. He could sleep in his old bed, feel the carpet under his bare feet, and watch the sunrise from the skylight in his ceiling.

The thought dimmed.

"Look it was good seeing you."

The house was as much as a cage as it was a tomb for his memories.

"I – "

He couldn't stay. There was too much here. Too many unspoken words. Too many things that had been lost with time. But how could he express that in a few sentences? How could he wrap up all his grief that had simmered and stewed for the past few years into a neat sentence with a perfect, red bow on top? Why had he come back? Why had be stopped by? It hadn't been for Batman; there were no clues here and both knew it.

Alfred's face softened and in that crystalized moment, Robin knew he didn't need a sentence that perfect. The man understood. He always did.

Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

Alfred's face morphed into one of concern. "It appears we have company," he said as he turned his attention to the center of the table.

Robin's heart sunk.

Oh no.

A screen popped up from the table, and the boy scrunched his nose together. That was new and slightly unnecessary. Bruce must have made some fancy, new security updates. Robin frowned; he'd have to tell Cyborg to make some new changes at the Tower. He couldn't stand it when Batman always managed to one-up him.

A visual popped up on the screen, making the boy want to pick up his heart that had already sunk deep into the Batcave and chuck it out the window across Gotham and all the way into the darkest depths of the ocean.

He was so screwed.

"Alfred, disarm the auto-defenses."

The older man opened his mouth to object upon seeing the specter's various arsenal of weapons, but Robin cut him off with a sigh.

"Unless of course, you want to explain to Bruce how all of his security systems got destroyed…"

Robin could almost hear the vivid lecture Bruce would give him if the man came back home and found his world class security system blown to bits. Alfred hesitated for another second before he punched in the codes to turn off the security. It appeared Robin wasn't the only one trying to avoid Bruce's rage.

Alfred glanced up with an unprecedented amount of concern pressed into every inch of his face.

Robin simply shrugged as he watched the masked mercenary move closer and closer to the door.

Slade's gray eye sought out the camera without an issue. The look almost dared Robin to challenge his approach.

And for once, Robin simply didn't have the energy to try.

"You put a tracker on me."

"You seem surprised by that."

"Slade."

"You didn't answer me."

"I was just about too."

"Well, I appreciate the urgency."

"What? Were you actually worried about me?"

"Mildly."

"I can handle myself."

"Debatable."

"Slade."

"Are you going to invite me in?"

"No."

A second flashed by between the pair before a third voice entered the conversation.

"Yes."

The odd pair turned at the presence of a third figure who had spoken the last word and appeared within the large doorway. A withered hand snaked around Robin's form.

"Mr. Wilson, I'm Alfred Pennyworth. Glad to meet a friend of Robin's," the older man said as the two contrasting forms eyed each other.

Alfred frowned as Richard's mouth practically dropped to the floor at the action. Had the boy really not learned anything about manners while under his tutelage? Sure, he had been eight, but frankly he thought Dick could have at least absorbed some scrap of knowledge. Gaping at someone was not only rude, but the action also looked ridiculous.

"Likewise, Mr. Pennyworth."

Power.

That was the word Alfred had decided upon.

Strength seeped out of Wilson's form and rested just beyond the edge of the masked man's grip. Alfred had seen his fair share of criminals over the years, but the man before him was the ace of spades in the extensive deck. From time to time, he had heard whispers of the mercenary's dealings around Gotham and Jump from the other heroes Batman dealt with. He had read Wilson's files and familiarized himself with the shreds of information Bruce had on the man after the whole apprentice fiasco. So, to discover Robin had now partnered with the man who had unwillingly forced him into an apprenticeship at the cost of the lives of his friends was not only surprising, but rather alarming.

Bruce had toyed with the idea of trying to eliminate Deathstroke as a threat for the Titans, but every time he had tried to make progress in taking down the masked man and his extensive network of criminals, another villain popped up in Gotham to steal his attention away. As he shook Wilson's hand, Alfred vaguely wished he had spent more time encouraging Bruce to make more progress on that particular project.

Despite the masked man's haunting background, when Alfred set his withered gaze on the specter before him, he oddly saw a shred of humanity within the very dark and very gray eye. The look was one of mutual understanding and mutual respect. Whatever partnership the masked man had created with Richard was the unifying bridge between their vastly different worlds, and if there was one quality Alfred knew about Slade Wilson, it was that the man was loyal to a fault.

There was an opportunity here, and despite its risks, Alfred was not about to pass it up and send Richard back out into Gotham's night until he knew exactly what was going on between the unlikely pair.

"H-How do you – ?"

Robin's stuttered speech broke Alfred out of his musings. He set his sights back on the boy, and his bizarre uniform suddenly made perfect sense.

Alarming indeed.

The older man had seen a lot during his years as Bruce's butler, but this, this one caused a level of worry that Alfred couldn't quite shake. As he glanced between the pair, the older man couldn't help but imagine the thoughts Wilson had already poisoned in the boy's mind.

"It's my business to know the competitors within Master Bruce's profession," Alfred said at length. Brief streaks of light speckled the sky, and suddenly, Alfred felt tired. He sighed as his gaze dropped back down to the flustered child beside him. Things could never be peaceful around the Wayne household.

"B-but I – you – "

"It's been a long night. Why don't you two come inside? We have more than enough accommodations to fit the both of you," the man said as a light smile danced on his face. He walked back inside, feeling a trickle of unease at turning his back on the famed mercenary of the country. He could picture the look of shock on Richard's face as clear as day. No matter the years, Alfred was always glad for the opportunity to surprise the boy – it meant he hadn't gotten too old just yet.

"Never underestimate the butler, Robin."

Slade's low voice caused a twitch of a smile to break through Alfred's calm exterior. The older man's eyes swept over the massive foyer of the manor as he considered just what Master Bruce was going to say about this. Whatever situation Batman had gotten himself into this time, the man needed to get out of it – and quickly.

Indeed, Mr. Wilson.

The man turned, his eyes tracing their way to the haunting orange and black mask as the specter took his first step inside the manor. A hard light entered Alfred's eyes as he gazed into the mercenary's visage.

Never underestimate the butler.

A/N: Hmm yes I brought in Alfred - he'll only be here for a bit though. I wanted to bring Robin back just briefly to his past before things start colliding into one another - let the angst begin haha.

Things are going to start picking back up soon story-wise...As always, thanks for reading - lmk whatcha think!