A/N: First time posting here. Haven't written in years. This idea has been bugging me for a few months now so I figured I'd give it a go. If it's worth continuing, let me know. Or if it's not... you know. Also, if anyone would like to beta future chapters that'd be great. I really have no idea what I'm doing.

Peace.

Prologue:

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here. Sitting on this train, bound for a city I've only ever read about, I'm beginning to second guess my plan… or lack thereof. If you'd asked me a week ago where I'd be right now I'd tell you on my way to Uni; one step closer to obtaining my degrees, one step closer to getting my dream job, and one step closer to making a difference in the world. That was the original plan, until a random, drunken conversation with a homeless man back home in Bristol turned my world upside down. I can't remember how I ended up on that bench, or how the discussion began, but I can tell you exactly when I started to doubt my future.

"So, what's in store for you, Naomi?" He asked, leaning backwards. I must've told him my name at some point.

"Gonna be a jounalisssst," I slurred, "Gonna travel the world, get up close and personal with people and their problems, gonna tryta change something."

Around this time I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

"You love writing?" he asked.

"Love? Dunno. I'm good at it, yeah? But love? I don't believe in that. What's love gotta do wit it?" I giggled, singing the last lines of the classic Tina Turner song.

"Don't believe… in love?" His eyebrows raised and his grin faltered.

"Naaah."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Nope." I replied, popping the "P" and taking a long swig out of my bottle. We must have been sitting there for an hour at least. I'd been on my way out the door of some ridiculous party and had grabbed a full bottle of vodka to take with me. Screwing the lid back on the bottle I noticed it was already almost empty.

"Naomi, you're setting yourself up for disaster." He suddenly said, very serious.

"Whatdya mean?" I closed my left eye so I could focus on him clearly with my right.

"How do you expect to write passionately about such intense things, to change the world, if you've never experienced such passion and intensity yourself? How do you expect to evoke any kind of emotion in your audience with your work if you yourself refuse to believe in it?" He spoke quickly, eyes sparkling even though the sun had long set and it was becoming difficult to see.

"But I am pashnit," hiccup, "I'm pashnit bout injustice. Hate it. And I can research, yeah? I can learn how to write with emotions and shit." Both my eyes had shut, my head falling back onto the top of the bench. "I can learn..." I repeated, almost whispering.

"Naomi," he said, quietly, reaching out to turn my head so I would open my eyes again. Once they had, he stared into me so penetratingly I could feel my bones shake and stomach turn when he uttered his next words.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return."

I awoke the next morning with my greatest hangover to date. I couldn't remember how I got home and the pounding in my head made any attempt to unravel the mystery impossible. A couple pain killers, a hot shower, and a pot of coffee later I found myself thinking back to the conversation I'd had with that man the night before. I never got his name, or if I did I had forgotten it. I kept turning his words over and over in my mind. Part of me wanted to scoff at the idea of taking advice from a stranger, but the bigger part, the louder part of me screamed, "He's right, you know. Look at your favorite authors, your idols. The people who have aroused such curiosity and wonder in yourself could have never done what they did had they not loved someone, something… anything! You've lived your life confined to the four walls of your bedroom and the hallways of your schools. You, Naomi, are as green as they come."

I can only describe what happened next as an epiphany. I was suddenly logged into Facebook, attempting to contact a man whom I had not seen in years.

Naomi Campbell: Hey

James Cook: BLONDIE! How've you been?

Naomi Campbell: Been okay, Cookie. You?

James Cook: You know me, babe, the cookie monster's always doin good ;)

Naomi Campbell: Good, I'm glad. How's Paris treating you?

James Cook: Top notch! Fit birds and world class drugs round every corner. What more could a man ask for? Lol

Naomi Campbell: Think I could come visit?

James Cook: Aww miss me?

Naomi Campbell: I just… need to get away for a while.

James Cook: When I asked you a year ago to come with me it was meant as an open invitation. You're always welcome here, Naomi.

Naomi Campbell: Thanks Cook. Can you give me your number and I'll call when I'm leaving?

That was six days ago. It had taken me three to gather the courage to tell my mum and Kieran that instead of going away to University, I would be traveling to France to visit a friend. I'd received odd looks from both of them, but in the end I'd been met with a simple, "Okay, love. Be safe," from my mum and a slight nod of agreement from Kieran. I hadn't expected either of them to give me much hell about my decision, especially Gina (given her history) and rejoiced in the fact that I didn't have to elaborate. It took another two days for me to pack my things, say goodbye to the handful of acquaintances Id made over the years, and to purchase my train ticket. My one way train ticket. I didn't know how long I'd be gone, or what I was hoping to find there, but I could feel something inside of me being pulled. I was nervous waiting for the train to arrive; gut wrenchingly, sweat inducing, heart palpitating, nervous. As the train entered the station I repeated my new found mantra in my head, finding a sort of solitude in the words and what they could possibly mean if I ever gave them the chance. I felt that pull from deep within me again, and as I stepped on board, made a silent vow to let it sweep me away and take me wherever it led. I found my seat just as the train began to leave the station, and as the only world I'd ever known was wiped away from view, my mantra echoed,

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn…"