Author's Note: It's been a long time since I began this story. We were stuck in the New52 and are now in the DC Rebirth as I close this. I have loved writing this story but it took me a long time to come up with an ending that I liked. Sorry about the long delay.

I'd love any reviews!


"Alfred, thank you for the lift," Callie said. "Dick took me through so many back roads, blind alleys opening into trap doors, I don't think I can drive back out again." She smiled. "And besides, I don't want to remember the pathway we took to the Batcave. The less I know, the less I can repeat. And also, Dick," she added as Alfred and Bruce preceded them through the kitchen door. "That was a fairly heavy discussion. I don't think you should drive right now. You need some time to let the emotions settle."

Dick just grinned. "I'll get your car back to you tomorrow, Callie."

"You hide a lot behind that devil-may-care attitude, don't you, Dick Grayson?" she said softly. "Just don't box yourself in as tightly as your father has."

Dick left her at the door as Alfred ceremoniously opened the rear door to the Phantom III, ushering his passenger inside.

After the door closed, Bruce came into the foyer. "So that's therapy," he said.

Dick nodded. "Yup. She's a subtle one. Had us both talking before we realized it."

Bruce quirked a half smile, arms folded over chest. "I suspect that Alfred had something to do with it, too."

"Well, the cookies really were good," Dick said, then looked at his feet. "How about you?"

"How about me, what?"

"Are you good?" Dick asked, meeting his gaze.

"With what happened to you? Never," Batman's expression hardened. "With going to therapy for you? I'll manage."

"Bruce, you don't get it, do you?" Dick ran his hand through his hair. "You aren't doing therapy for me. You're doing it with me. Callie thinks that…something about our…relationship…made it possible for Owlman to get to me." C'mon, Bruce! Dick urged silently.

"You're saying that something about me made it possible for Owlman to get to you?" Batman asked tonelessly. "You think all of this was somehow my fault? Dick, he used alien drugs on you!"

"No, that's not it, Bruce. You didn't cause this! What I'm trying to say is, something Callie told me during one of our sessions, that somehow, Owlman provided something that I was missing." Dick sighed. "And I fell for it."

"Yes, he gave you a good case of Stockholm Syndrome in addition to mind-raping you!" Bruce said roughly, turning to leave the room.

Dick grabbed his arm. "That's not it and you know it, Bruce! You and Thomas Wayne are near twins. Even your fighting styles are familiar, and within his own limits, Thomas has his own sense of honor. He…approved…of me. He wanted me to be his son, and showed it. When I was in the hands of the Syndicate, he protected me." Dick gulped. "Bruce, in many ways, he was a better Dad than you have been."

Bruce turned back to him, face impassive. "All I have ever given you was the truth, Dick. You know I don't do family well and you know why. When we met, all I could promise you was a home and the chance to get the man who killed your parents. That hasn't changed."

Dick frowned. "Yes, it has. I had a home here, with two parents: you and Alfred. You keep denying that fact, but every time I had to go to the hospital you might not have been there, but you were the first call Alfred made. I knew you were out there somewhere, worrying," he smiled. "You were too chicken to come to the ER and see just how bad it was. Instead, you were home in the study, quivering and waiting for Alfred's call. There were a lot of times I woke up in the Watchtower sick bay with you sitting by my bedside, even though you denied it later. Bruce, it's okay to hug me sometimes. You used to when I was nine and woke up with nightmares!"

Bruce turned and started to walk away. "You've grown up."

"I still have nightmares and I'll never be too old for your advice," Dick called after him.

Facing away, "You ignore my advice."

"I didn't stop being your kid, Bruce, even when I grew up! And I am tired of calling Jason, Tim and Damian my 'friends' when they're my BROTHERS!"

Back still turned, Bruce climbed the stairs and went into his study. Dick scrubbed at his face and decided to go back to the cave for a workout. He needed to pound something.

"Thank you, ma'am, for taking us all on," Alfred replied solemnly.

Callie paused. "You understand, then."

"More than you can know," he said. "Master Bruce has suffered for lack of family since his own was killed. He grew less…lonely…when he took in Master Dick, then later Jason and Timothy."

"He still won't admit that he's created his own family because needs them, will he? And that he loves them?"

"Admit it? Not easily." Alfred smiled into the rear view mirror. "But he'd give his life for any of them, Master Dick most of all."

"But he's obsessed with protecting them. That's not good for any of them," Callie said. "When he fails, he blames the victim."

"Ah, so Master Dick has told you about being fired as Robin," Alfred said.

"Oh, yes," Callie said. "He broke the boy's heart when he locked him out of the batcave."

The car stopped in front of a storefront that read "Gotham Free Clinic".

"Thanks for dropping me off, Alfred," Callie said as Alfred closed the door to the Rolls. "I owe Leslie a follow up report."

"Please give my regards to Dr. Thompkins," Alfred said.

"Of course," Callie replied, opening the door and stepping in.


"So, you met the Bat, did you?" Leslie said dryly, pouring Callie a cup of coffee, giving herself the last of the pot. She slowly stirred in enough sugar to kill a diabetic, gathering her thoughts, then began to drink.

"He is an…interesting…man," Callie said cautiously. Would this doctor prove to be as illogically loyal to Bruce Wayne as his other retainers?

Noting Callie's expression, Leslie said, "I suppose he's grown on me over the years. I've seen him and the entire family through a lot of crises." Eyes crinkled with an ironic smile. "He doesn't frighten me."

"Family. You call them a family and so does Bruce, but how can he treat them the way he does?" Callie gulped down the last of her coffee and got up to make another pot. "Child Protective Services should have been in and out of there multiple times by now!"

"Been there and done that," Leslie commented. "The thing is, for all his faults, Bruce is a good father." At Callie's expression, she added, "He is, really. He listens to them and would die to protect any of them. The kids know that, no matter how mad they get. They aren't the Brady Bunch by any means, but his children, all of them are devoted to him."

The old fashioned coffee pot perking away, Callie slid back into her chair. "Even Dick? He loves Bruce but he's been trying to pull away for years."

"Especially Dick," Leslie replied. "That's been the problem, as you correctly noted. But Owlman's brainwashing and your treatment might give the both of them a chance for a more normal father-son relationship."

"Can I make a difference with Batman? Talking to him can be like talking to a suit of armor," Callie said.

"Funny you should say that. Bruce started creating armor for himself when he was twelve and his parents were murdered. It's pretty thick by now, but there is one hole in it," Leslie said with a smile. "His name is Richard Grayson. Bruce never lost his humanity because of that little boy he adopted. Bruce knows that, too."

"That closeness between them…" Callie began.

"That closeness is Bruce's touchstone, his connection to the ordinary life he left behind," Leslie said.

Callie nodded slowly. "Lose Dick and he'll lose himself to the Bat. Poor Dick. And poor Bruce, smothering Dick with his own fears."

"Bruce really is overprotective," Leslie said. "But his way of enforcing it is by demanding perfection of his partners. If his partner is lethal, they won't get killed or hurt."

"And Dick is the best of them, isn't he?" Callie said.

"Yes, Bruce has made sure of that."

Three Months Later


"I'd like to speak with Bruce first, Dick, if it's okay with you?" Callie asked the shorter of the duo sitting in her office chairs. Bruce laid a hand on Dick's shoulder, then got up to follow her into the office.

As per usual, Callie sat in the easy chair across from the wing chair where Bruce seated himself. Many of his barriers had come down over the months but he still hid inside that chair. Some things would never change. "How has Dick been lately?"

"I think that the medication is helping," Bruce said, leaning forward, big hands clasped between his knees.

"Busy night?" she gestured towards his bruised knuckles.

"No more than usual," he said. "I was only out for half a patrol. I'm letting the boys handle the bulk of the work these days, so I can be home for Dick. He's not having nightmares anymore, or at least not the Owlman related ones. He's starting to get cabin fever."

"He wants to go back on patrol?" Callie asked, biting her lip. "That would not be good. Physically, he's not fully recovered yet and he's just begun to stabilize mentally."

Bruce met her gaze. "The various assassin's guilds are still hovering. Slade Wilson has been in the area for weeks, just waiting for Nightwing to make an appearance."

"He still needs time," Callie said. "He's mending and that's good. How is it going with the databases?"

"My agents have infiltrated all the major databases and the dark web, changing the appearance of the man identified as Nightwing in the broadcasts. Anything that connects to the internet should show the improvements we made. Oracle is very…dedicated…to this project," Bruce said.

"She sounds like a very interesting young woman. I wish I could meet her," Callie said. "But I doubt that would be possible…"

Bruce shook his head. "You already know more than you should about our operations."

"How are you and the boys getting along?" Callie asked.

"Better, I think," Bruce said meditatively. "We have a weekly movie night with the entire team attending and patrol is handled by auxiliaries. I took the boys skiing a month ago and have agreed to a few family trips, outside Gotham. Superman has proven very helpful in filling the gaps."

"You aren't indispensable," Callie remarked.

"Funny, that's exactly what Cla…Superman said," Bruce agreed with a half-smile.

"And how do you feel about a long-term plan for Dick? Have you discussed it with him?"

"I thought we could do it today," Bruce said, looking, Callie could swear, nervous.

"All right, I'll bring him in," she said.

Once Dick was seated, she leaned back in her chair. "Dick, I have your latest blood work and the alien drug is almost out of your system. It'll be a few months before you're clean, though."

"I feel really good, though," Dick said with a smile. "I want to put the suit on and get back out there."

Noting Bruce's sudden change of expression, Callie waved a hand at him and mouthed 'Calm down!'

"I said it's almost out of your system, but you're still very suggestible, fights with Bruce aside," she said. "You aren't back to your usual peak of fitness either, are you?"

Dick gazed sharply at Bruce, then turned back to his therapist. "Well, no, I guess not. Who ratted on me? Bruce?"

"No, Leslie did. And given the physicality of your uh…job…it would be unsafe for you to return to it just now," Callie replied. "I did want to bring something to your attention. I'm told that Gotham is getting dangerous for you."

Dick turned away. "No more than usual."

She picked up her page of notes, "Slade Wilson, the League of Assassins, the Penguin has put a bounty on Dick Grayson's head…Can you leave the manor freely without a body guard of some kind?"

"Yes!" Dick said.

"No!" Bruce clamored. They glared at each other.

"Bruce, I've gotten to this office safely, even though Red Hood and Red Robin were following me! I even left them a bad guy or two…GIFT WRAPPED!" Dick had stood and was facing Bruce, also standing.

"STOP IT! Right now!" Callie whistled and gestured for them to sit down.

"From an independent perspective, Dick, you're feeling good and need to be active again but Gotham isn't the place for that. The controversy over Nightwing also needs to die down. Fair enough?"

Dick took in a long breath and sat down, followed shortly by Bruce dropping into his own chair.

"What do you suggest?" Dick mumbled.

"What do you want? You're an adult now. Have you ever wanted to travel? Go to a foreign university or..or…what is it called? A foreign dojo? Study martial arts more formally? Here's your chance." Callie said.

"Well, there is one place I've always wanted to see but I don't think that's possible," Dick said. "I've been friends with the Green Lanterns for years, I was kind of their kid mascot when I was Robin. They have some advanced martial arts and investigation methods I'd love to see."

Callie turned to Bruce. "Where is that?"

"The planet Oa," Bruce said. "There was a time that they were actively considering Robin for recruitment into their corps." At Dick's sudden start, he went on. "They approached me when you were twelve, but I insisted that you were too young, so they never made any other enquiries."

"I could have been a Lantern?" Dick breathed. "But you told them I wasn't good enough." His head dipped.

"No! That isn't what I told them at all! You'd just lost your parents a few years before and you needed stability. I told them to come back when you were an adult and had finished your education. You were just too young, but you were never unqualified!" Bruce said earnestly.

"Well, I'm never going to Oa anyway," Dick said in a low tone. "How about something simpler, at least until I recover completely. D'you think that Clark's parents would like a field hand for a while? It would get me out and Smallville is at the back end of nowhere!"

"Who is Clark?" Callie asked.

"Uh…old friend of the family," Bruce said. "He's a reporter in Metropolis. We met over the news coverage surrounding the murder of Dick's parents. He was raised in Smallville Kansas. Nice little town and very quiet. I think Dick would like it there for a while."

"The food is really good," Dick said, misty-eyed. "Ma Kent can bake a pie like nobody's business. D'you think they'd take me?"

"I don't see why not," Bruce said. "But when you've recovered, what then?"

"I don't know, but it gives me time to decide," Dick said. "I'll start looking at college catalogs and researching different martial arts academies. Yeah, Ra's al Ghul won't find me in Smallville."

"I don't think he even knows it exists," Bruce said with a half-smile. "And I have a few ideas about clearing your connection to Nightwing."

Callie checked her watch. "Your time is about up for today but keep me posted on your plans."

"I will," Dick said. "Alfred's probably down below. You coming Bruce?"

"I'll meet you at the car," Bruce said casually. "I've got a question for Callie."

After Dick left, Bruce leaned in to Callie. "Uh…I do have a question. You know that I'll still be…worried about Dick even in Smallville and definitely wherever he ends up. Um…after Dick's gone, if I need to talk to someone…?"

"I'll be here and available, any time and any place," Callie grinned. "Even the 42nd story of the Gotham Building at midnight."

"Dick and I'd had a fight that day…" Bruce said earnestly, then stopped when he saw the grin. "You and Alfred spend too much time together. You're starting to develop his sense of humor."

Three Months Later


"Good morning everyone," the blonde hostess beamed at the cameras. "I'm Cindi Saylor and today we have a real treat and a chance to set the record straight! You all remember when the Crime Syndicate went after our super-heroes claiming that Richard Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne was our own Nightwing! We all saw footage of Nightwing, strapped into a chair, copies of a Chicago driver's license in Dick's name with a picture on it that looked a lot like the unmasked Nightwing? Well, and it's a scoop! We can prove that Dick Grayson isn't Nightwing and never has been! With that, let me welcome our guests," she gestured and first a young man with newly re-darkened hair, dressed in an Armani silk suit, strode towards her.

He shook her hand and, smiling, allowed her to seat him in one of the chairs.

"So, Richard…or, it's Dick isn't it? Yes? So, it's been a rough year for you, hasn't it?" She said.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," he replied easily, a dimple showing in his cheek. "It's hard to prove you aren't a super-hero when nobody knows who the guy really is! Bruce has had private detectives out looking for the guy and finally persuaded him to come in and show he's not me! And I'm not him!" Grayson laughed. "Not to mention all those dangerous things he does. I was a circus acrobat when I was a kid, but to do some of those stunts you'd have to be crazy. Or have a death wish!"

"But wasn't it great to be confused with a hero? I mean, Batman was his partner!" Her eye shone with admiration.

Dick sighed. Another fangirl for Batman. Why didn't any of them swoon for Nightwing? "Well, yeah, it can be nice, but when the super villains show up wanting a piece of Nightwing, it isn't so much fun. I've been pretty much locked up at the manor since all this went down. I can't go out without bodyguards, so I'm just as happy to get this all straightened out!"

"What about the records that show you lived in all the same towns as Nightwing at the same time?" she asked.

"What of it? I can afford to move around. But nobody has tracked Nightwing to San Francisco when I lived there. Or Paris. Or New Orleans and I can show proof that I've lived in all those places," Dick said. "I've given your office the proof."

Screen flashes as photos of Dick Grayson in other cities and signed rental agreements appear.

"Yes, I can see that it would be frustrating," the hostess replied. "But now, no more delay. Let's introduce the man of the hour! Nightwing, please come on down!"

A slender but muscular man walked around the backdrops, his movement a graceful and controlled stalk. He shook the hostess' hand and allowed himself to be seated to the left of Dick Grayson. He wore the standard Nightwing suit with a mask, the escrima sticks easily visible over his shoulders.

Dick Grayson reached his right hand across to shake Nightwing's, then when the hero just glared and didn't move to shake back, removed it.

Laughing nervously, Grayson tugged at his collar, "You…uh…aren't gonna hit me, are you?"

In a low rasp, Nightwing said, "I don't know. Should I? I mean, you've been impersonating me for a year, haven't you, rich boy?"

"N..not by choice," Dick leaned away from the hero. A large man whose suit said 'body guard' appeared in the corner of camera shot, making his way towards Grayson.

"Naw, I won't hit you," Nightwing said blandly, waving the body guard away. "I don't want to dent your minion."

"So, Nightwing, all this confusion has to be upsetting for you as well," Cindi said with a smile, eyes roving over the skintight suit the hero wore.

"Upsetting? Try embarrassing," Nightwing crossed his arms and lounged back into the chair. "Being confused with a yutz like Dick Grayson has set me back with the Justice League, for one thing…"

"What's wrong with being confused with me?" Grayson demanded. "I'm a solid citizen!"

Nightwing blew a raspberry. "You're an overstuffed rich kid. All your muscles came from your home gym. You probably wouldn't know how to defend yourself if your bodyguard took the night off! Of course, I'm embarrassed! I worked hard to make a name for myself only to have my rep attached to some spoiled brat of Bruce Wayne's!" Nightwing stood. "And just for the record, I'll PROVE I'm the only Nightwing and not this idiot here."

He pulled off his mask and tugged off his black hair, dangling the wig from a finger." Go ahead and call up that ID that the Crime Syndicate showed on tv. Look at the pictures. Brown hair and green eyes! Got it? Grayson doesn't even look like me!"

Both Grayson and the host goggled at him, then her hand waved at her producer, who quickly brought up old news footage. On the screen appeared a Chicago drivers' license, a little grainy, showing a brown haired man with green eyes who looked more like Nightwing than Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson stood up and turned angrily on Nightwing.

"You were using my name, you bastard! My NAME! Where do you get off doing that? That's why all the criminal overlords are after me now!"

Nightwing snorted. "I wasn't gonna use my own on my fake ID, was I? I just pulled a familiar name out and had the ID made with it."

"How dare you!" Grayson pulled his fist back and hit Nightwing square on the chin.

Nightwing retaliated and soon the two men were exchanging blows.

Eyes gleaming, Cindy gestured for the camera man to come in close. "Don't miss anything," she hissed. "Get as much blood as you can. Closeups!"

The camera zoomed into the two faces, so different from each other when you really looked at them.

By the time the bodyguard got to the center of the studio, Grayson was clearly losing the fight. Nightwing moved faster, hit harder and easily avoided the flailing blows Grayson tried to land. The cameras caught it all and when Grayson had landed on the floor, bleeding from his nose, Nightwing called a halt.

"You deserved that, you chump!" Nightwing bent down and retrieved the mask and wig, putting them both on again. He faced the camera. "And you! Citizens of Gotham, I am NOT Richard Grayson, got that? I'll be here patrolling Gotham and helping you all out just like I've always done. I am not some weakling socialite like him," he said, waving a gauntleted hand back towards Grayson, who was being helped upright by the bodyguard.

"I'm outta here," Nightwing grumbled, ran over to Cindi and grabbed a quick kiss and stomped off.

Cindi stood there, lips still puckered watching Nightwing leave while the bodyguard held Grayson up, brushing the dust off his suit.

"You get my point," Grayson said to Cindi, dabbing a linen handkerchief at his nose. "Well, I'm not a barbarian like that Nightwing chappie….and I can't wait to get the Hell out of Gotham!"

"Oh, you're leaving?" Cindi said in a chipper voice, gaze cast yearningly towards the exit Nightwing had taken.

"Yeah, I've been locked up too long. I'm leaving town and travelling the world. Anything to get away from that…person!" Grayson said, then tried to smile. "And thank you so much for inviting me onto your show, Cindi."

"Thank you for agreeing to appear, Dick," she simpered back. Turning to the camera, she said, "And thank you for joining us in this segment of Good Morning Gotham!"



Dick limped into the batcave to the sound of laughter as Jason finished telling Tim, Bruce, Alfred and Barbara the story of the news segment.

"It went just like we rehearsed it!" Jason said with a laugh. "If I didn't know he was faking it, I'd swear that Dick never fought a day in his life!"

"Well, you added a few embellishments we didn't plan," Dick said, waving the ice pack that covered his darkening eye. "I thought you were only going for the nose and chin! You were enjoying yourself!" he accused.

"Damn straight, I did! I've been waiting for that fight all my life. And you were so snotty I just couldn't help myself," Jason grinned, not at all guilty.

"So, d'you all think they bought it?" Dick asked.

"It looked pretty convincing on the t.v.," Tim said. "When the blows landed, Babs and I both flinched."

"That's for sure," Barbara said. "That bimbo was sure eating it up."

"I think that'll do the job," Bruce said slowly. "The papers tomorrow should be full of it, too. That means we're ready for the next phase of the plan."

"Yeah, the get out of town plan," Dick said.


Superman arrived in the early morning, meeting Dick on the roof of Wayne manor. Dick was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt but had no other luggage.

"Are you sure I don't need to bring anything?" Dick asked doubtfully.

"Nothing at all," Superman said cheerfully. "We'll get clothing for you when we arrive. You'll be wearing some of my old overalls, from when I was a teenager," he added when Dick looked askance at the much heavier, taller man beside him.

Bruce approached them. "Are you ready for this, Dick?"

Dick nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be. I've confirmed with Callie and Leslie that they'll stop by to check on me from time to time. The big question is where I go after I'm fully recovered. We did a good job trying to bury those news stories but I know it'll take time to sink in."

"The Daily Planet's Society page is announcing that Richard Grayson will be taking a world tour using the Wayne yacht. He isn't expected back for at least a year," Superman said, smiling. "That camera footage from the fight between you and…um…Nightwing made for some great newspaper."

"Yeah, all the gossip columnists have been covering it," Dick said. "I can't turn on the tube or surf the web without seeing myself get clobbered." He turned towards Bruce. "Are you sure Jason's okay with being Nightwing for a year?"

"Oh, he's already finding the perks in the job. He's dating that woman from the show…Cindi, was it?" Bruce said with a wry smile.

"That's good, I guess, although I could stay here instead…"

"No!" came from both Bruce and Superman.

"Okay, okay," Dick replied. "I just wish I knew where I'll be in a year. It's kinda frightening."

"You'll have figured something out by then," Bruce replied.

"And Ma has already promised to feed you up like a prize pig," Superman added. "When I talked to her this morning she already had two pies in the oven. Apple."

"Wow…" Dick's eyes glazed over. He knew what Ma Kent's pies tasted like.

"And Dick, I spoke to Kyle Rayner today. He sent me a letter for you," Bruce pulled a glowing green envelope out of his jeans pocket and handed it to Dick.

Eyes wide, Dick took it, ripped it open and read it then looked at Bruce. "Did you arrange this?"

"I might have made a suggestion or two but the decision was theirs," Bruce said solemnly.

Dick read part of the letter "You've been admitted to a very limited internship, and are the first human to which this offer has been made. When you're physically fit, one of Earth's Green Lanterns will transport you to Green Lantern Headquarters on Oa. You will spend twelve Earth months in an internship intended to train planetary peace-keepers and investigators in the higher skills of police science. You will observe Green Lanterns during their routine patrols and will assist in their cases. Additionally, you will be taught self-defense and advanced investigative techniques..."

Dick swallowed hard. "Bruce…this is what I've wanted most…"

"It's an opportunity of a lifetime," Bruce said, voice rough. "You'll have a chance to do all those things you couldn't do when you were twelve."

"But Bruce….What if I don't come back?" Dick said hesitantly. "What if they recruit me or something? You need me to watch your back! Don't you?"

"If a ring chooses you, then it chooses you," Bruce said. "I'll be just as proud as I have been watching your progress as Nightwing." He approached Dick and put both hands on his boy's shoulders. "There are other people who can watch my back here. But that doesn't mean I won't miss you."

"You've been proud of me? I thought you hated my being Nightwing. The suit is too tight. It doesn't have enough body armor and I make dumb decisions in the field…" Dick's left hand reached up to scrub his eye, the letter crumpled in his right.

"I've always been proud of you, Dick," Bruce said. "If I've been hard on you, it's because you are the best I've ever trained. I'm so proud of my oldest son," he said, stopping to clear his voice.

Dick met him halfway in a bear hug. "I'll make you even prouder, Bru…Dad! Can I call you that?" He pulled back to see Bruce's face.

"Yeah…." Bruce cleared his throat. "You can call me Dad, now and always. Now go and see the galaxy, son. And let us know how you're doing when you can."

Bruce stood silently on the rooftop as Superman carried a waving Dick Grayson away into his future. "Fly free, Dick," Batman whispered as they were lost to sight. "Fly far, my son."

LATER-In the Batcave

"You think he's really going to Oa?" Tim asked Jason as he wolfed down some of Alfred's cookies. "I mean, it's kind of out there as an idea."

Jason shrugged. "Why? What do you think Bruce would do with him? Fake his death and turn him over to a worldwide spy agency to be a super-spy for a year?" He grabbed one of Tim's cookies. "Now THAT is really way out there!"