A/N: Sorry about the wait everyone! I went away and had such a good time that I've spent most of this week recovering! Because of that, I'm not sure this chapter's any good, but it had to be written to get to the next part, so there we go. I won't leave it too long before posting the next one though!

Again, I didn't get round to replying to all my reviews, so apologies for that, and a big thank you!

xxxx

Howard had no time at all to react when a rough hand pushed a piece of cloth against his mouth and nose, the other holding him still as he tried to struggle. The dim light of the room he had seen the few seconds he'd had his eyes open disappeared as quickly as it had come, the world spinning out of focus as the smell of chloroform fought its way up his nose and into his mouth, the woozy feeling that was overtaking him pulling him under, under, under, until...

Howard opened his eyes groggily. His head was throbbing painfully, the early morning sunlight streaming in through the small gap in the curtains burning his eyes, making him wince. He tried to roll over, quickly realising with a horrible jerk back to reality that he couldn't move. That he wasn't in bed. That he was tied to a chair which was tipping as he tried to turn, and that the last thing he remembered was having a nasty smelling rag shoved into his face. Howard felt sick, and then he panicked when he realised that Vince wasn't with him. He shouted out his name but it came out muffled, held back by the gag tied around his mouth. Then a figure came into view, and Howard could have cried with relief as he saw a man in uniform come to a stop in front of him. He looked up at him pleadingly, wrists sore and aching where they were tied with rope round the back of the chair.

The officer frowned, and Howard stared at him in confusion, eyes widening when a dangerously insane, toothy grin spread across the policeman's face. Howard struggled against his restraints as the officer walked towards him and knelt down in front of him, his grin turning into something much more sinister.

"Hello, Howard Moon."

Howard's muffled voice screeched out round his gag, and the officer laughed cruelly, a hand coming up to pull the gag from Howard's mouth, but before he did, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, holding it to Howard's throat.

"I'm going to remove your gag, and if you start shouting your mouth off, I'll slit your throat. Comprende?"

Howard nodded, his whole body shaking with fright and anger. The dirty material was pulled away from him and he coughed harshly. "Where's Vince?" he croaked.

"The little man-lady? He's asleep, tossing and turning with his nightmares."

Howard blinked to clear his vision, his brain feeling like it was about to escape from the inside of his head. "Why are you doing this?"

"Well," the officer said, turning the knife in his hand, the weak stream of sunlight glinting off the steel. "He was a threat."

Howard blinked in confusion. "What?"

"When he saw me in the park that night, I knew I couldn't just let him get away."

"That was... that was you? But - but you're a police officer!"

"Exactly – that's what made it so easy. No one suspects a thing. I just listened out for when the call came in that someone had witnessed a killer in the park, and I instantly had access to who Vince Noir was and where he lived. I sent the note so you'd be moved here, and here we are. Like I said - easy. And now I can get rid of you both."

Howard's head was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. This policeman was the murderer? A man of the law, a ruthless killer? Howard swallowed heavily, teeth biting down on his lip in an effort to control his trembling, a trickle of blood appearing when he bit too hard and split the skin. "If you've hurt Vince, I swear to God -"

"What? You'll kill me?" the officer laughed cruelly and bent down in front of Howard so they were almost nose to nose, the laughter cutting off abruptly. "Like I told you – he's asleep. And if you don't keep your voice down and you wake him up, I'll slice his pretty face off – and I have something far better planned, so don't ruin it."

"He's done nothing wrong," Howard whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. "Please, let him go. Do what you want with me, but let him go."

"I don't think so, Howard Moon."

"Why do you keep doing that?"

The officer stood up straight and walked to the other side of the room, taking something out of a bag. "Doing what?"

"Saying our full names." But Howard went ignored as the officer continued to fiddle with whatever he had out on the table, which Howard could see was some sort of canister. The lid was pulled off of it and the smell of petrol floated around the room. Howard knew in an instant what it was for. "You're insane. You won't get away with this!"

"Won't I?" There was that creepy smile again, which faded as quickly as it had appeared, a sinister – no, worse – a look of pure evil replacing it; so psychotic and unhinged that Howard wouldn't have been at all surprised if the officer viciously stabbed him to death right there and then. He opened his mouth to talk, but was cut off when a hand was roughly pressed to him. Howard struggled against it, even trying to bite at it as his gag was retied. "Best not drag this out too long, eh?" The officer walked over to the canister, and while his back was turned Howard pulled frantically at his restraints, twisting his hands and trying to grab at the rope that bound them. The policeman walked over to the bedroom door with the can, petrol sloshing out of the top. Howard watched horrified as he tipped it in a line along the bottom of the door, then he pushed the door open and stepped inside, Howard yelling around his gag and pulling even more desperately at the ropes that were keeping him from saving his best friend's life. The officer stepped back out of the room seconds later, noticing Howard's look of extreme panic, and he cocked his head to one side, studying him with a malicious smile that chilled Howard's bones and had him mumbling frantically and incoherently against gag.

"Oh, don't worry about your little friend. I was just checking on him. Pretty, isn't he? His skin's as smooth as it looks," the officer said, an odd, twisted humour in his voice. Howard baulked, repulsed and angered at the fact that this mad-man had touched Vince. Then he protested even louder as he was dragged over on his chair to face the bedroom door, tears pricking at his eyes as he saw Vince asleep on the bed, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding around him; innocent, thinking he was safe – thinking Howard was watching out for him. Wet streaks trailed down Howard's face as he realised that while he was indeed watching him, he just wasn't keeping him safe. He had failed him.

"Don't worry, Howard Moon," the killer said in a sing-song voice, standing on a chair to reach the smoke alarm on the ceiling, removing the battery and throwing it into a corner of the room. "Vince Noir won't feel a thing. You can just sit here and watch him drift away – watch as the smoke fills his lungs and strangles him from the inside out. That is, of course, if it doesn't consume you first. And he might wake up, but I don't see that he'll be able to do much. Let's see shall we? Burn, baby, burn." He climbed off the chair and produced a box of matches from his pocket, shaking them in Howard's face. "You know, the best thing about this is; no one will know it was me. You see, I killed the officer who was here earlier," he started, walking over to a cupboard near the window. He pulled the door open and a bloody body fell out, the dead policeman's face twisted into a grotesque mask of pain. Howard retched, coughing against the cloth in his mouth and desperately trying not to throw up. The officer just laughed and continued with his explanation of how he was going to get away with his horrific crime. "I'm going to light this match, leave, arrive back with the emergency services and pretend I was never here and that he," he pointed to the dead officer, "was here hours after he should have been as I got held up. But you know, if your friend had decided not to walk through the park that night, this could have all been avoided. Even if he'd just walked on without stopping to look, then right now he'd be safe in his own bed. I could have buried my cheating wife and life would have gone on as normal. But he saw me. Well, it's human instinct to stop and look, isn't it? Shame."

The smell of petrol was beginning to make Howard dizzy, and as he watched the deranged man in front of him strike the match, he saw his life flash before him - not his whole life, just the bits with him and Vince – the zoo, moving to Dalston, working in the shop, the bickering, the teasing, the playful banter and those rare, tender moments which made sticking with his friend worthwhile, which made Howard realise that Vince's over-the-top behaviour and flamboyant character were only really skin deep – a show for the rest of the world, and only Howard ever got to get a glimpse at the real person underneath, however brief it was. He knew that deep down Vince had always truly cared for him, but Howard didn't need something as awfully terrible as this to bring it out. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. A failure indeed, he thought, not being able to protect Vince when he needed him most. But as the murdering officer's face lit up in the orange glow of the flame, a shadow crossing it as the match fell to the floor, hitting the line of petrol in the doorway between him and Vince, he knew that there was no way on God's earth that he was going to let Vince die without a fight. The officer fled the room as the petrol ignited in a spray of fierce, hot flames, locking the door behind him. Howard, suddenly realising that he was tied to a chair which was made of wood, shuffled himself over to the wall, nearly tipping over as he tried to hold back his panic. Again and again he hit himself against it, tears pouring down his face in frustration as he fought to free himself. Eventually, after what seemed like hours but really only could have been thirty-odd seconds, the chair splintered and collapsed under Howard's weight. Using the wall to push himself upright, he jumped across to the doorway as best he could with his ankles tied together, wincing as the heat burnt his skin, sweat pouring down his face as the fire ate up the petrol and started to melt the laminate flooring, the flames crawling along the floor as they hit the rug and licked at the bottom of the curtains. They went up with a roar, and as Howard tried not to lose his balance, a chilling scream pierced right through him. As he looked through the flames into the bedroom, his heart sank as he saw Vince kneeling upright on the bed, his eyes wide and terrified. Their gazes locked, until Howard wobbled and fell to the floor. Vince cried out for him, and the only thing Howard could think about as he fought uselessly against the ropes was that he wished with everything he had that Vince hadn't woken up - that if he wasn't able to save him, then at least he would have died quietly and painlessly in his sleep. The thought of Vince burning to death whilst awake was too much to bear, and he sobbed against his gag, his fright for his own life forgotten as he desperately tried to get up off the hot floor. He could hear Vince repeatedly screaming his name and as he eventually managed to get onto his knees, he saw that the entire door-frame was now engulfed, black smoke billowing from the wood and working it's way into his body. Vince was sobbing now, and Howard wanted more than anything to shout to him to smash the bedroom window, but he couldn't, and Vince seemed far too shocked and scared to think of it for himself.

All the same, as Howard tried to force the rope over his hands, he pleaded to any God listening that if he couldn't free himself in time, Vince realised about the window before it was too late.