Getting shot in the head was a very unique sensation. One Nigel did not wish to re-experience any time soon. Not that he could really remember it, and it was going to stay that way according to his lawyer who was having field day with the police. Not only had they shot a local business owner who was unarmed, but apparently he witnessed the crime of his wife Gabi shooting her new lover, Charlie Countryman, both of whom were missing now and presumed on the run.

Ah, yes…Beautiful Gabi and that greasy, little cocksucker, Charlie. May they both rest in pieces, wherever Darko had put them in the ground. They had wanted to die for love so Nigel's best friend had granted them their fondest wish. Nigel couldn't bring himself to care.

The doctors and nurses were calling it medical miracle. Instead of exploding, fragmenting, or knocking around off his cranial plates, the bullet had done a surgical shortcut through the front and out the back of Nigel's head. He was missing parts of his childhood, and had lost a few names to attach to faces, but other than that, Nigel was physically fine except for a scar in the middle of his forehead.

According to Darko, his street credit had already gone from infamous to legendary. The police couldn't touch them, the tape being the only piece of solid evidence and both drug lords had personally seen to its demise. Darko couldn't be happier. The club was doing well, all their enemies and nuisances for the moment had been dealt with, and business was booming.

All Nigel felt was void.

OoOoO

Going through all the proper motions, Nigel left the hospital with a clean bill of health and a weirdly shaped permanent scar in the middle of his forehead. He let his hair grow back, the doctors having shorn it far too close while saving his life for his liking. Nigel grew it back longer so as to hide his new feature.

Not knowing what else to do, Nigel went back to his old life, but it lacked luster. The food tasted like ash to him and liquor held no flavor, nothing making much of impression on him anymore. Boredom became Nigel frequent companion, none of his old vices holding his attention for very long. Even Darko was being to notice, watching his oldest friend through narrowed eyes whenever he came into the club to mope which was becoming less and less frequent.

In the end, it was Darko who suggested that Nigel take some time to travel, to leave Romania for a while. Get a fresh perspective even, he had said. Nigel wondered how many of his wife's pussyass shows were beginning to rub off on him. Nigel hated to admit though that Darko, whipped or not, wasn't wrong. He needed to leave and now was as a good a time as any. With a payout from the police, the profit from the club and their other business deals, Nigel never had to work again if he didn't feel like it.

'Fresh perspective'? What the fuck did that even mean? When Nigel went to book the trip though, he left the travel site's page blank. He felt like some unmoored boat, one that was drifting out to sea with no sign of life to lead him back home again.

California was chosen, but only because the dart had stuck into the wall. Billiards was more his game any day, but he needed to make a decision, and throwing darts at a map seemed like a good a plan as any. Shrugging, Nigel booked the trip, icon hovering on the ticket options of roundtrip or one-way.

Clicking 'one-way', Nigel began to pack with little he had and even less that could be legally brought on planes. Romania was no longer his home, Nigel calling up Darko to sell him his share of the club and more than a few secrets so there would be no loose ends.

OoOoO

California was nice. It didn't feel good or bad to Nigel. The only noteworthy thing of interest that happened in the course of his travel here so far was some fat, overbearing American who kept harassing Nigel at the airport bar and thought he was funny to boot. The last draw was when the dumb fucker followed Nigel into the bathroom.

"What do you get when you pick out all the flakes in San Fran?" said the red faced fatass who won't no a clue to fuck off if it bit him in his ass, huffing and puffing as he took a piss next to Nigel. It was only a short layover, just enough time to find a bar and get fucked up, but holy hell, Nigel was so over flying around in tubes filled with not enough booze and too many screaming children.

His bathroom buddy took Nigel shaking off his dick as a cue to continue. "All you're left with is the nuts and fruits." The man laughed until he starting wheezing. Nigel did a quick look around the bathroom, not seeing any cameras or other occupants.

"Hey, I asked you which one are you?" The man slurred, shoving at Nigel's shoulder. Someone had obviously enjoyed the airport bar's overpriced drinks a little too much.

"Most definitely a nut." Nigel says as he easily broke the man's neck. Walking him back to a stall, Nigel locked them in while he looted the body, taking all the cash and whatever gold he found. Propping the not-so-dearly departed so that it looked like the guy was dropping a deuce, Nigel climbed up and over the barrier. Hopefully, his flight be leaving soon and even better, now he had a pocketful of other people's money to spend. It was the little things in life really.

OoOoO

In some ways, San Francisco reminded Nigel a lot of Bucharest, at least in its essence. It was all too pretty and perfect and clean to be mistaken for his hometown, his port of call rich with small dingy bars filled thick with way too much smoke and hastily made decisions. The city wasn't doing it for him. For the first time in his life, Nigel didn't really want to be around anyone. He figured getting shot the head will do that to a guy though.

Gabi was dead. Even worse, out of all other men on this planet, she picked Charlie fucking Countryman to be with, some stupid kid who wanted to die for love cause he thought it would be kinda cool. Nigel hoped Darko had kept Charlie alive long enough to know that some wishes really do come true. Everything was jagged in Nigel's mind, unsure if he should grieve or if he cared enough to do so.

All he felt was empty.

OoOoO

The redwood forests of America's Northwest was making it worth the trip in Nigel's head. The trees and the quiet they offered was welcome and in some ways, cleansing. A few beginner's trails did not make him a mountain man though, Nigel soon figuring this out, trading his loafers for some proper boots. Nigel was more worried about running out of cigarettes than his personal safety as he came upon crossroads of sorts, trails leading out in two directions and planked walkways in the other. Nigel was trying to decide if he should try another trail or not, pausing to take a smoke break.

"Are you here for the tour?" said a soft voice from behind Nigel, whose neck hairs all stood up on end at the sound of someone so close to him. Usually, people couldn't get a drop on Nigel to save their lives, literally and figuratively. Seeing no one else nearby, Nigel turned around to deal with the poor unfortunate soul who was obviously not long for this world.

Blue eyes hinted with grey stared back at Nigel, or more accurately at some point over his shoulder, Nigel glancing behind him to make sure there was no one there. The eyes belonged to one of the most beautiful people that Nigel had ever met, what some would call an English beauty with pale skin and delicate features. This vision of loveliness wore too many layers of varying shades of blue in Nigel's opinion, and more over, the man seemed dazed and confused.

"What?" Nigel growled around his cigarette.

"There is tour in twenty-three minutes at the observatory." The man offered, his gaze never really meeting Nigel's own. "I can take you there if you'd like. You appear to be lost."

"How do you figure?" Nigel grunted, leaning back against the railing to better study his new companion.

"Because of the direction. I would not advise going in the Northeast." The man with the beautiful everything really said, nodding in the direction Nigel had been going.

"Why? What will I run into?" Nigel asked, expecting more warnings about bears or mountain lions.

"Canada."

As far as Nigel can tell, this guy was a blank slate. At kind of a loss and not sure what to do next, Nigel watched as the man's skittering gaze alighted upon him in an unusual manner, sideways and upward. When the man's gaze finally came to rest at his forehead, Nigel prepared himself for the onslaught of inane questions about his latest acquisition.

"Your scar looks like Polaris. It's beautiful." Said the strange little man, decimating anything of relevance from Nigel. For once in his life, he was at a complete loss for words.

"What?" Nigel managed. He had not been expecting that.

"Your cranial scar looks like an abstract representation of Polaris, which is the brightest star in the constellation of Ursa Minor. Currently, it is very close to the north celestial, thus making it the North Star…" The man expended patiently on his answer, going into more and more detail as he went along until Nigel lost complete track of the conversation. "I'm sorry. Have I said something insulting or have I been talking for too long?"

"No, no. It's just most people don't say that when they see it." Nigel laughed, half in amazement and the rest in a sort of relief he couldn't name or identify.

"What do other people say?" the man asked, and his tone was inquisitive, not disrespectful. Nigel could find no trace of mockery in it.

"Like 'what happened?'. That kind of stuff." Nigel grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. When he looked back at the man, his brow was furrowed in confused thought.

"I don't understand. It's obviously a gunshot wound despite its similarities to Polaris." The man sighed, seeming at a loss for some reason. "That and I have observed that making statements about personal appearance tends to make people angry or uncomfortable or both. I apologize if I insulted you. That was not my intent."

"Well, most people don't do that. Compare this scar to a star or call it beautiful." Nigel snorted, feeling at ease with this stranger and his odd way of speaking, his eyes still evading Nigel's own.

"I'm not like most people." The man said, sounding apologetic.

"I'm beginning to see that." Nigel practically purred, something stirring up inside of him. There was a wind building up in him, beginning to feed into embers and send sparks flying up into his night soul.

"I've said too much." The man began to dart off, Nigel easily keeping pace with him. "I should go. The tour is starting in thirteen minutes. You could still make it in time."

"No, you really haven't, been talking too much. Don't go. You'll find you can't escape me so easily. Talk with me, walk with me." Nigel grinned, the expression coming easily to him in what felt like months. "My name is Nigel by the way, gorgeous."

The man slowed down to stare back at Nigel, his eyes catching light and making them glow cosmic from within. Then he smiled and Nigel knew he would be lost forever in this man's space, the ash and ember of his soul being set ablaze once again.

"Oh…O-okay. I'm Adam."