A Moment in Time, I'll Turn Back Chapter 1: Turn Back the Dial, a wrestling fanfic

So you can really thank Captain for the update tonight. I was perfectly content with being lazy and not posting the next chapter until next week even though it was ready. She's much nicer than I am. So thanks to her for editing for me and getting my butt into gear.

Disclaimer: WWE owns all recognizable characters. I also don't own Back to the Future. Marty is mine though. Woo hoo!

Chapter One: Turn Back the Dial

November 2, 2015 11:45 P.M.

The too loud beat of a rock song droned on in the background while Dean and Roman flopped onto the tall chairs, which surrounded the small round table in the back of the bar. Dean rubbed his abdomen once again still sore for from the events of the evening. Roman winced in sympathy; one of the biggest benefits to his ring gear was the vest afforded some protection to his torso. On the other hand, Dean's flimsy wife beater tank top offered no protection at all; therefore, Seth's chairshot bruised his entire torso (not to mention his ego).

An older woman approached their table; she wore her gray hair loose and it cascaded down her back in a jungle of waves. "Hello boys, my name is Marty, and I'll be minding you tonight. Can I get anything for y'all?" Her voice contained the barest traces of a Southern twang.

Dean shrugged and looked at Roman. "I don't know about my brother here, but I could really go for a beer."

Roman nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to me."

Marty smiled and jotted something down on her notepad, . "Hankering for anything in particular? We're having a special on Fat Tire on tap?"

"That works for us, darlin'."

"Alright, y'all, I'll be right back."

Roman ran a hand through his hair before he pulled it back while he watched Dean carefully. For some reason, he was having a difficult time reading the Lunatic Fringe tonight. He was fidgeting more than normal, practically wiggling around on his chair, and tapping a steadily inconsistent beat on his collarbone.

He couldn't really blame Dean for his current mood; Roman felt unhinged too by the earlier events at RAW.

The sound of Marty setting down the glasses jolted the two men from their stupors.

Roman mumbled a muffled "thanks" to the waitress and took a swig of the beer as Dean mirrored him.

"You okay, bro?" Roman finally asked, feeling unsure of the Lunatic's current state.

Dean looked up at Roman surprised. "I'm as good as can be expected, I suppose."

Roman nodded a bit worried about what that meant but downplayed his assumptions. "Good"

"How about you, Big Dog?"

One shoulder shrugged, languidly. "Been better"

Dean scoffed. "No kidding, Uce. How's the back feeling?"

Roman considered it as he still could feel the ache in his back muscles before he said, "Not too horrible...I got him before he really had the chance to do any real damage."

"Yeah, that was one hell of a Superman Punch. No wonder the little brat scampered out of the ring back to Mommy and Daddy."

Roman managed a weak smile. "Yeah, right"

Dean sighed as he messed with his unruly hair.

Roman had the feeling Dean was purposely avoiding talking about what was on his mind. It had been over a year, but the subject was still a sore one - a festering open wound that had yet to scab over and heal.

Dean sighed again as he stood up from his chair. Roman looked up from where his gaze had been diligently studying the condensation on the smooth glass of his beer.

"Where you going?"

Dean smirked as his eyes beelined for the bar. "As much fun as this is, Uce, I'm going to try my luck at the bar."

Roman glanced at the bar and saw several very attractive women sitting in a group. He tried to not show his disappointment of losing the company of his brother. Dean had every right to try to enjoy himself. If he didn't want to stew in his own pool of angst over the Seth situation, he had every right. "Ah, I see."

Roman tried to immerse himself in the drops of water, carefully slinking their ways down his pint glass when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him.

"You know I love you, Roman. Don't...don't dwell on this; it's not healthy. I know, pot meet kettle… I should listen to my own advice, but I don't wanna see you consumed by this whole thing. At some point, you're gonna have to accept it. The Seth Rollins we knew and loved is long dead and gone. He ain't coming back."

Roman leaned his head against Dean's shoulder. For some reason, the hug wasn't making him feel any better against the harsh reality that was the one they lived in.

"At least consider it, Rome?"

Roman nodded. "I'll consider it."

"Good," Dean said, giving Roman's shoulder a pat before heading to the bar and gaining the attention of the flock of women. "Ladies, the Titty Master has arrived!"

Roman tried to chuckle at Dean's antics, but he couldn't help but think about his other little brother. A part of Roman could remember when Seth had been fearless. What seemed like a lifetime ago during Payback 2014, he could remember his youngest brother appearing out of nowhere; his arms had stretched out to his sides extended above his head as he prepared to jump. Without taking a moment to consider how terrifying it was to hurl his body off the Titantron, his brother had done just that. He had used his body as a weapon, disregarding how dangerous it was.

He did it all in order to protect Roman; in order to protect his brothers.

Now Roman pictured Seth as how he looked when he ran away earlier that night with the title clutched tightly in his hands as though it held more importance than anything in this world. Roman wondered how it was possible for this man to be the same one who had forgotten gravity existed and human beings were never meant to fly. He wondered if this Seth Rollins would ever consider risking himself to save him or Dean. He wondered if the Seth Rollins from his memories still existed somewhere under the layers of cowardice and manipulation. He wondered if Dean was right in holding his opinion: the Seth Rollins they knew and loved from the Shield, the loyal and fearless high flyer, was dead, and in his place, a soulless shell of a man remained.

Roman didn't know what to believe anymore.

He tried to smile at the waitress as she brought him another beer, but it turned more into a grimace.

"Oh honey, are you alright? Is something the matter?" Marty asked a bit worried as frown came across her face. For someone who must be older, judging by her iron gray hair and gently wrinkled face, she was beautiful. Her big brown eyes shined with compassion and care; they reminded him of - nope, he wasn't going there.

"I'm fine. Everything's great," he said, even realizing how fake he sounded. He tried for a second attempt at a winning smile and had a little more success than his previous grimace.

Marty sighed as she rubbed Roman's arm. "I'm not sure how true that is, sweetie."

Roman looked at her questioningly. She smiled, shaking her head and walked back to the bar. The overhead lights shining on her hair, making it look almost pure white like an angel. Roman took a deep drink of his beer and couldn't help but think Marty was strange. People weren't normally this kind, and Roman didn't get the impression she knew who he was and was just sucking up to him because she was a fan… Weird.

The Powerhouse scanned the bar and watched Dean flirt with one of the groups of women. His brother was really hamming it up, leaning against the counter and using his smoothest lines. Roman shook his head as he overheard Dean use the 'I'm all about justice, but right now, I'm all about just us' on a young woman. Oh Dean…

"Here you go, honey. On the house," Marty said, setting two plates down on the table; she raised a hand to carefully brush a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear.

Roman raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What's this?"

Marty smiled widely and said, "My ma's famous apple pie."

"Pie?"

"Whenever I've been blue, pie has never let me down. I made one this morning to bring in for the staff, but you looked like you needed a piece much more than them."

Roman smiled and took a bite, attempting to hold back a groan from the rich flavors.

Marty sat down in Dean's vacated seat with a sigh. She gingerly rubbed her lower back. "Oh, these old bones…"

Roman scooped up another large bite perplexed by the older woman and asked, "You said it's a family recipe?"

"It's a lovely classic, Georgia recipe, and you can really taste the difference. My mom would always use three or four different kinds of apples: Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, McIntosh, and Granny Smith. This gives the pie more depth. She'd also put peach jam in with the apples; it makes such a difference. Can you taste the hints of Georgia peaches?"

Roman nodded as he continued to devour the pie. "It's delicious."

"Thanks" Marty grinned, and her big brown eyes twinkled. "Reckon you wanna talk about what's eating you?"

"Nothing's eating me."

"Right, you're just hunkey dorey, aren't ya?"

"I'm...hunkey dorey?" Roman gave Marty a look of disbelief.

She just grinned at him. "You not familiar with hunkey dorey?"

Roman gave her an unimpressed look. "I grew up in Florida; I know what it means. I just haven't heard anyone use it in a while."

"I get that. I get down-right excited when I meet someone from home here, but that doesn't happen often. These Colorado folks talk so fast with no flavor what-so-ever." Marty smiled as she took a bite of her slice of pie.

Roman chuckled. "I bet they do. Why'd you move up here?"

Marty shrugged; a young, mischievous glint graced her eyes. "I'm a rambler, you could say. I don't stay long in one place. I get bored easily. There's just too much fun to be had when you go a larking."

"You could say the same about me. Well, the moving around part at least...I travel for work," Roman responded. He then added as an afterthought, "The caramel on top is a great touch."

"Thanks, that's my personal twist on the recipe," she absentmindedly added while twisting some of her dark brown hair around her finger.

Roman sighed. "I don't want to be rude because you seem like a nice girl, but you don't really want to listen to my problems. It's complicated, and you're on the clock..."

Marty waved a hand at Roman. "Oh, boy, you are just the sweetest. It's deader than a doornail in here tonight. It's a Monday night. And call me girl? I'm old enough to be your mother, boy."

Roman frowned and did a double take at the waitress. One moment, her face was the perfectly smooth face of a twenty-year-old, and her hair was a rich dark brown; however, then her face was the residence of dozens of wrinkles, and her hair was a solid gray. He shook his head; he must be seeing things. Did he have too much to drink already? Or did he take a bigger bump earlier than what he thought? "Sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

Marty laughed. "It's nothing to be sore about, sweetie. I don't hold grudges anymore; I'm much too old for that. Now just talk to me. You'll feel better."

Roman sighed. He opened his mouth to say he wasn't going to tell her his life story. He wasn't going to tell this strange woman, who seemed simultaneously so young and so old and way too concerned with his life about his troubles. He didn't want to spill his problems to a stranger, even if she bribed him with pie. However, instead of a polite dismissal, he began talking about the Shield, about the brotherhood they shared, and about the brother they lost.

All during Roman's recollection of the betrayal, Marty just sat, patiently listening with her wrinkled chin resting on her hands.. She would make sympathetic noises at all the proper moments and sigh at others.

"And I don't know if the Seth that was our brother is even still in there. Sometimes I think he is, but tonight...I just didn't see him," Roman said, finishing his tale.

"And you're afraid you'll never see him again," Marty stated.

Roman nodded slowly and sadly.

"I bet you wish you could go back in time and stop him," Marty commented, carefully looking at Roman, who was staring down at his empty plate. "You know, take the chair right from his hands…"

"Yeah...or even just talk to him. I think if I had a chance to really connect with him before we went out there, I could've talked him from the ledge. That night...he didn't seem like he wanted to do it; he really had to force himself to not feel anything."

Marty leaned forward in her seat. "Roman, what if I told you, you could talk him off that ledge."

Roman paused; had he told her his name? He didn't think so… He brushed off his suspicion and shrugged. "I told you, it's too late now. That Seth is long gone, dead."

Marty shook her head. "Maybe so, but what if you could talk to him before you lost him."

"Before…?"

"I told you I ramble around a lot," Marty said with a large smirk, raising one dark eyebrow up.. She reached into her pocket. "Now in all seriousness, I'm going to give you something that can be a real help to your situation. It's been in my care for just about a century."

"A century?" Roman repeated in disbelief. Was this lady nuts? Nobody could live for more than a century.

"Shush now," Marty scolded as she pulled out a gold pocket watch and handed it over the table to Roman. "Take it."

Roman stared at Marty who held out the pocket watch to Roman. Marty was crazy, completely bat-shit. She was so confused that she couldn't remember how old she was. For some reason, Roman couldn't help but worry Marty was handing out precious, family heirlooms to random men in bars. Roman couldn't accept something from this old lady; it would essentially be the same as stealing.

"I don't think this is a good idea...I'm just going to find my brother and-"

Marty's voice grew stern, and her eyes flashed a dark, golden color. "I told you to take it, Roman!"

Roman's eyes were wide as he reached out and snatched the watch from her outstretched hand.

"Very good, boy," Marty said in a softer voice, "The knob on the bottom right is for years, the one in the middle is for months, and the one on the top is for days. If you need to get even more particular, use the one on the left side for minutes. After you're done dialing the time, close the watch again, and you'll travel. Your actions will impact the future, but you will still recall what happened in both time lines. Those around you, however will always assume this is the original timeline they were always supposed to be in. You got that?"

"You're insane. There's no way I can go back in time! This isn't Back to the Future!"

Marty laughed. "Of course, this isn't back to the future! That's a family heirloom, dating back to the 1800s! Not some car that will become redundant in a couple of years. Golly, you sure are foolish as those Internet wrestling fans say."

Roman frowned and opened his mouth to retort.

"Shush boy!" Marty scolded again. "I'm trying to remember if I've told you everything you need to know! Oh, I know! Whenever you go back farther in time, you bring another one of yourselves with you. If it's just a minute or so back, there won't be a difference; I think it's because you're still in the vicinity. But if you're talking about days or longer, you'll have a double of you. So you best be careful cause some folks might get suspicious if there are too many of yous running around. And having more than two of yous in the same time'll make its own mess of problems."

Roman just stared at Marty, trying to comprehend what was happening. "Too many of me…?"

Marty tapped her fingers on her chin trying to remember what else to tell him as she said, "Let's see. Oh! Make sure you take care to not interfere too much because anything you change will affect the future. There's a name for that kind of thing… Some kind of phenomenon? Eh, don't worry about it; I'm sure it's nothing too important."

Marty fixed her gaze on Roman. "This probably sounds incredible to you now, but you need to try it and see for me; I know many who really benefited from it… and some who didn't..."

Roman nodded a bit confused by all this. "I-uh-"

Marty interrupted him, saying, "well, I should get back back to the bar to start closing up. You might wanna grab your Dean and get him back to the hotel for some sleep. It looks like he's had one too many, and he's hitting on one of my girls right now, so I think it's best you two head back."

Before Roman could say anything, Marty scooped up his empty plate along with hers, rising from her chair and began walking back to the bar. Her hips sashayed as she walked away, and she casually flung her dark brown waves over her shoulders where they cascaded down her back. When she reached the counter, she narrowed her big brown eyes at Roman. Then she walked behind the bar's counter and began to talk with the other bartender, a young redheaded woman.

Roman's cheeks heated up, and he blushed at being caught looking at her swaying hips. Shaking his head, he grabbed his jacket and went to corral his brother from the group of woman.

"Hey, Dean, I'm heading back. Ready, man?"

Dean glanced up at Roman, blearily. "Rome?"

Roman glanced at the women around Dean, who all giggled, and then he noticed the dozens of empty shot glasses adorning the counter. Roman sighed and pulled Dean to his feet. "Come on, bro, time to go. We got to leave in the morning."

"But, Uce," Dean whined, dragging out the last syllable. "I'm staying right here with all these lovely ladies."

Marty walked over, smiling softly."Oh boy, you should head back and sleep this off." She brushed his hair off his face and felt his forehead for a temperature.

Roman stared at her, seeing her wrinkled face, gray hair, and slightly stooped figure. What the hell was he on? Had Seth really hit him that hard with the chair or was he hallucinating what this woman looked like?

She glanced up at Roman. "Honey, take this boy home and mind him, won't you? He doesn't look too good." She leaned down and kissed the top of Dean's head. "Have a good night, y'all."

Roman made eye contact with Dean. The Lunatic Fringe made an incredulous face, which barely masked his confusion of why this old lady was suddenly treating him like he was her long-lost grandson and not some borderline-crazy man. Dean mouthed something, which looked like What the hell?

Roman did a half shrug and pulled on Dean's leather jacket-clad arm, helping his brother haul himself to his feet. They exited the bar. It was a quiet night with hardly any traffic down their street. As they made it a couple of steps out the door and to the bus stop with a bench near the road, the other bartender ran out and stopped Roman.

"Roman? Marty had me call a cab. She said she covered it, so you just need to wait here. Don't worry about the fare."

"We're only a couple blocks away. I could've gotten him back. She didn't-"

"She said you'd say something like that. Don't worry about it. She said to tell you, it's her pleasure to help such young, handsome boys, and you should just suck it up and let her."

Roman rolled his eyes before he carefully set Dean down on the bench and turned to face the woman. "Sounds about right, coming from her."

"What's that supposed it mean?" The redhead asked.

"She's very persistent."

The bartender laughed. "Oh, you're talking about how she kept talking to you earlier, aren't you? She's just a very caring person."

Roman paused. This might be his chance to figure out what was the deal with Marty. "So Babygirl, how long has she been working here?"

The redhead waved her hand. "Oh, she's been here forever." Then the woman paused. "Oh but that's not right...She hasn't been working here longer than two weeks, tops…"

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Which is it then?"

The redhead frowned. "I feel like she's been here before I started working here, but I don't think that's right… I mean, I remember Barb hiring her...But that doesn't make any sense either…" She shook her head. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Roman stared at the girl raising an eyebrow in concern. "Okkkkaaay, do you know how old Marty is?"

The girl shrugged, unsure of what Roman was asking her. "I'm not sure, but she can't be older than me, and I just turned twenty-two, or maybe she's in her sixties..."

Roman frowned, thinking about the odd moments when Marty seemed to jump between ages. "Don't worry about it, Babygirl. It's not important."

She smiled. "My name is Abby, and I wanted to give this to Dean. But he drank way too much, so can I have you give it to him tomorrow?" She handed Roman a business card for the bar with her name and number on the flip side.

Roman smiled, accepting the card. "Of course, I can."

"We were having such a good time together. I mean until he started getting a little bit too intoxicated, but that's the thing, I guess. He only had like two beers, so I thought it was weird it hit him so suddenly. But I guess everyone's different. We really were hitting it off though before that. He even called me 'darling,' which was the sweetest."

Roman chuckled. "Sounds like you did hit it off. I'll-"

Roman paused mid-sentence when a car came racing along the street and a pair of headlights illuminated both Roman and Abby. Then they heard a foreboding screeching of breaks and a sickening thud.

Roman's stomach twisted in dread and instantly turned to the bench where he had set Dean, only to find no one there. "Shit! Dean!"

Abby screamed and pointed to the road, spotting something way before Roman did. As soon as Roman turned and saw what she was seeing, he sprinted towards the road.

In the middle of the lane was a crumpled shape in a black leather coat, laying in a pool of something dark in front of a yellow cab. The driver quickly backed up the cab and peeled around Dean's fallen body, speeding off.

"Call 911!" Roman screamed back at Abby as he sprinted over to Dean. Abby hesitated for only a second before she ran back towards the bar screaming.

With Abby hopefully calling an ambulance, Roman knelt by his brother and quickly placed his fingers on Dean's neck. Where was it? Where was it? He frantically felt for a pulse but found nothing. "Dean! Come on, man, don't do this to me!"

Roman carefully began the chest compressions for CPR, but he stopped when he saw Dean's face. A streak of blood snaked its way down his chin, and Dean's blank eyes stared up at the sky, unblinkingly.

There was no spark, no twinkle. They were empty; they were dead.

"Dean, shit! Dean!" Everything Roman knew seeped from his mind, and suddenly, his entire world was his brother. Roman cradled Dean's head in one of his hands, and he raised his brother up in the air and closer to him; Roman carefully hugged his brother close to his chest. "Dean, brother...I love you. You aren't allowed to leave me. You're supposed to always be the one here with me."

Suddenly, a warm hand touched his shoulder. "Six turns...Seven turns max, I would estimate. That's all it would take, sweetie."

Roman glanced up at Marty, frantically. "You knew this would happen! This is your fault!"

Marty shrugged. "Seven turns, Roman. Trust me." She crossed her arms and nodded her head.

Roman reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch. He opened it and swiped his thumb across the watch face, streaking it with red. His fingers spun the dial on the left seven times. He stared at the watch, and he heard an ambulance siren in the distance before he flicked the watch closed. He closed his eyes, focusing on the pounding of his frantically beating heart, the temporarily still-warm Dean in his arms, the cold watch in his hand, and the sound of the sirens, filling the cool air.

Roman looked around desperately, seeing Dean starting to get up off the bench. He ran over and gathered his brother up in a bear hug. "Jesus, Dean…I love you; don't scare me like that again."

"Oh, sorry… I didn't realize you guys were in that kind of relationship," Abby mumbled while she scratched the side of her head, retreating back into the bar. "This is awkward."

"Dean, why were you trying to walk into the middle of the road? What's the matter with you, man?"

Dean frowned at Roman and rubbed his eyes, dazedly. "I don't really remember. It just sounded like a really good idea at the moment."

The yellow cab pulled up to the curb. Roman glared at the driver before pulling the door open and helping his brother in.

Back in the hotel room, Roman made sure Dean was settled in one of the beds. He waved off Dean's gruff echoes of "Stop your fussing; you ain't my mom," forcing the man to swallow his pride and take the tylenol and water he offered. When Roman was satisfied with his hangover prevention measures and motherly hen duties being performed, he actually tucked the blankets around the Lunatic Fringe and watched his brother fall asleep.

Several times, Roman had to subtly reach out to feel the gentle exhale of breath leaving Dean's body, to find Dean's pulse, and to sense the warmth inhabiting his skin and not slowly ebbing away, leaving a cold shell in its wake.

His brother was very much alive.

He was alive.

He was alive, just asleep.

Roman pressed his fingers against Dean's wrist, feeling for the steady thumpthumpthump of blood pumping throughout the course of his body in little rivers of life giving support - streams which ensured him his brother was still alive.

But some moments ago on the road, they meant something completely different when they were dripping from Dean's crown, when were they swimming down Dean's face, when they stopped dead in his veins.

Roman pulled his hand away from Dean's wrist, and he broke down, crying. What the hell had just happened?

Dean had been dead. Roman had seen him: losing heat, breathless, nothing in his eyes... He had been dead.

Wiping a hand across his eyes, Roman had to wonder if it had even happened? Or did some dark, twisted part of Roman's brain invent the scenario? Why would he imagine something that sick? But the conclusion it never happened was more enticing than the fact, which resounded in Roman's heart: Dean had died. Dean had died, and Roman had held his empty body in his arms.

Roman reached into his pocket to pull out the watch; he stared at the smooth metal cover before carefully opening the latch to reveal the watch face. Simple numerals lined the circumference of the face, surrounding four hands. However, across the face was a smear of red - of dried blood - of Dean's dried blood.

It really had happened.

Wanting to chuck the watch as far away as he could, Roman held it in lose fingers under a suspicious gaze. The unimposing gold object held an incredible power.

An incredible power that could very easily rectify all his problems regarding his wayward little brother.

Roman slowly grabbed his phone off the bedside table and opened up his photos, scrolling to the almost hidden photos in the tail-end of the gallery and stopping at one particular photo. It had been taken right after Seth and him had won the Tag Team Championship titles. In the photo, Roman was playing it cool with his expression schooled into a smooth smile and one arm thrown around Seth's shoulders. Seth's hair was a bird's nest of frizzy curls, and he wore the biggest, most cheesy grin. Seth's right arm was raised in the air holding his title and Roman's left arm did the same on the opposite side. They looked happy.

Once again, Roman glanced at Dean, taking in the sight of his little brother with his rising and falling chest and his parted mouth, which released soft snores. He had one brother with him, one loyal-to-a-fault brother. Was he just being selfish, wanting the other? Would he be tempting fate? Roman ran his free hand through his hair and couldn't help but think that line of questioning was really in Seth's territory. He was the one who had been tasked with thinking up each and every possibility; he was the Architect.

Roman sighed and glanced at the picture again, noticing the dark blob on the bottom of the frame, which was Dean's finger. The Lunatic Fringe never really mastered taking photos with a cell phone camera. However, it was sort of nice that something, which would normally be perceived as a mistake actually allowed both of his brothers to be present in the photo in some odd way.

They could be as close as they were once again… Better yet, they never would have stopped being close. All Roman had to do was turn back time.

All he had to do was spin the dials and turn back a moment in time.

Roman balanced his phone on his knee and ran his fingers over the face of the watch in his hand, feeling the contrast between the smooth glass and rough dried blood. He carefully spun the three dials on the right. He watched the spinning hands and snapped the cover shut.

He stared at the photo remaining on the phone screen before he closed his eyes and listened to the gentle inhale and exhale of Dean's breaths, losing himself in the sound.

Dean's snores jarred him back to reality. Roman shook his head, opening his eyes. There they were in the hotel room, moonlight filtering in through the window and Dean sleeping on the other bed.

Roman sighed. It didn't work; he was in the exact same place. He leaned back on the bed but abruptly stopped when he heard a groan and felt something solid behind him. What the hell?

Slowly, Roman turned around and saw himself…

Himself: one year and 5 months ago...

That Roman was lying on his stomach with his bruised and welted back exposed, sleeping.

HOLY SHIT, it did work!

I mean, I couldn't kill of Dean, not this early... :D And the fun really begins here.

Please review and hopefully Crossfit Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, will rise tonight at Payback. I'm crossing my fingers. Ugh, yes, I mean Seth... ;)