Running. That's what you have been doing. Running from everything you knew and loved. For a little over a year now, you have been constantly on the move. Like a nomad, everything you needed in two bags. You never stayed anywhere for to long. You couldn't risk being found. Taking odd jobs for a week or two to earn enough to keep moving.

You have been a bit of everywhere by now. The States mostly but you fly back to the UK, Greenland, Brazil, Australia just to be on the safe side. Most of the places in the States you have roamed in is backwater places. Nothing popular, nothing that would stick out, nothing that would draw attention to you. You had to remain hidden, no matter how trashed the motel rooms are. All cash, no paper trail.

Unfortunately, you are human and make mistakes. You settled to long in one spot. Working in a bar in the middle of nowhere in the south of the US, where southern hospitality is a lie. The people are like anywhere else...Rude...but you have gotten used to them. Tonight was no different. Rude men and women, bar scuffles, and loud drunks. Thankfully, as the night wore on, a calm took over this little dump. You were cleaning glasses with your back turned to the counter. Just busying yourself with work. The one thing you are thankful for, the US has the tipping system. You made enough to finally move on to the next place. Maybe head up north again. The people are nicer.

With a heavy sigh you place the clean glass in the drying rack. "Bourbon. On the rocks." A familiar voice rings out from behind you...No...No...It can't be. You slowly turn around with your eyes widening at the sight of him. Your husband...Simon Riley. You loved your husband sure...But you didn't expect him to find you. You take a deep breath and walk over pouring him his drink. His blue eyes dancing over his spouse that has been MIA for a little over a year. "Your visa expired." Simon says simply taking a sip of his drink. His eyes held a little hurt and disappointment in them even if his expression remained stoic.