This little place they called the Glen didn't look too bad, he thought to himself, adjusting his sunglasses slightly as the sun sneaked into his eyes through the car windshield. Kinda quiet and peaceful, which was exactly what Nicholas Russell was looking for at this point in life. Peace and quiet.

"You sure you're gonna be okay here alone, Nick?" From his place in the driver's seat, Pete Valentine glanced over at his friend and boss, before hurriedly returning his eyes to the road. His voice was rather worried and hyper.

Pete's voice had been worried and hyper since they were kids, Nick thought, half touched, half exasperated by the question.

"We've had this conversation Pete. At least half a dozen times already, man," Nick said in his deep somewhat rough voice, a trace of Southern accent still lingering in it. He leaned his head back against the headrest on the passenger side with a long sigh. "I'll be fine. Not thinkin' about killin' myself or anythin'. Not any more."

That remark made Pete a little more uncomfortable than he already was, but that wasn't difficult these days. For the last year-and-a-half he'd stood by his friend through a long hospital stay, and an even longer course of medications and outpatient therapy. Nick's head had been seriously screwed up. "'Course, mine would've been too, if I'd been through what he's been through," Pete thought.

With a short laugh to change the subject and ease the tension, Pete said, "Hey! You remember that year on your birthday? Springsteen and Clapton came up and took the stage with you at Madison Square Garden? That was one fuckin' big surprise party!"

Nick smiled, not because of that remark, but because he knew Pete was trying to change the subject. Pete was nervous about leaving him here alone and Nick couldn't say he blamed him, after everything that had gone on. Good old Pete. He'd been one guy Nick could count on his entire life.

"Oh, yeah. That's one I'll never forget," he told Pete quietly, in a satisfied voice. Luckily, just about that time they pulled up to the house.

Just an average three-bedroom house. No movie theater in it. No recording studio. No coke dealer showing up at three in the afternoon. None of the excesses of his old life. Just him and his thoughts. Nick was satisfied with it. It was an excellent place to transition from the old life to the new.

An hour later, when Pete was assured that the electricity, the plumbing, the phone, and all the major appliances worked, and the kitchen was well-stocked enough to get Nick through his first week of self-enforced solitude, they stood in the driveway. "Listen, man-" Pete was looking up at Nick, being a couple of inches shorter than his friend. "You need anything- I mean anything- Food, medication, the TV guide, toilet paper- You call me! Okay?" With a nervous grin, he held his cell phone in front of Nick's face.

Nick chuckled, hands in the pockets of the Woolloomooloo hoodie, he'd picked up on the way here. "You'll drive all the way up from Sydney to bring me a fuckin' roll of toilet paper?"

"Damn right!" Pete replied. "Haven't I always done things like that?"

"Yeah. You have," Nick answered quietly. His eyes held Pete's steadily, all the humor going out of their conversation. "And I haven't told you nearly enough times how grateful I am for all that."

Pete returned Nick's steady gaze. At times, the man before Pete seemed to be a totally different guy from the one he'd known over 30 years. But he was still Nick Russell. A little more weight, beard a little scruffier, longer hair pulled back in a ponytail. But the eyes always told Pete that he was still Nick.

"Aw, man-" Pete hugged Nick somewhat awkwardly, a few unshed tears in his eyes.

When he was finally on his way down the driveway, Pete looked back at his buddy through the rearview mirror. Something told him he might have actually seen the last of Nick Russell--world-class musician, songwriter, and bona fide rock star. He hoped that the new Nick Russell, when he finally found himself, would have a little more peace and contentment in his life.

Scuffing his sneaker in the dirt of the Australian countryside, Nick looked around briefly at his new and lonely surroundings, before heading inside his new home to begin his new life.