AN: Here's chapter seven where I give you... the plot dump. :) I hope you all enjoy my revelations.
I feel slightly naked, revealing all this, :P
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Lords Barratt and Fielding.
The Captain XXX
Chapter Seven
The Make up is in the breakdown
You're my toy box
You're my memories
When I smell your skin
You just make my whole world weep
I'm at your feet
I'm at your feet
Mercy
IAMX
"N- Naboo?" Howard stuttered, blinking rapidly, trying to defuse the image in front of him, but Naboo didn't disappear, he simply came into sharper focus.
"Get up, Howard." Howard blinked, Howard. The name sounded odd, it was his name. He knew it was his name, but everything that was Howard was still so unfamiliar. Naboo included.
"But, but – 'Michael Naboo's body was found by officers – '
"You're dead! You're supposed to be dead!"
"You're supposed to be missing, you plumb!" the tiny shaman said, looming over Howard as Howard sat on his knees in the gutter. It was unnerving to say the least.
"But, but Vince – "
"We'll get him back, Howard. We gotta move though."
"But they've got him – "
"I know, Howard. Now move!"
The two feathered helpers suddenly took Howard by the arms and yanked him to his feet. His mind was dizzy, dragging pieces of information back and forwards across his brain, sorting them out; James kissing Nate, getting in the taxi, driving through Camden; Vince sucking on lollies, trudging through the artic tundra, fire lighting Vince's face as they hung over a long drop into the flames of monkey Hell.
It was a shambles and made Howard nauseous, but he set his feet on the ground and tried to stabilize himself before the two feathered shaman, as he was sure that's what they were supposed to be, began to frog march him after Naboo. The tiny Shaman led him back to the alleyway behind the jazz club where just minutes before, Nate - Vince had been trying to convince him they'd been more than strangers thrown together, once upon a time when the moon talked and fish had manginas. Howard shook his head, nonsense, it was all nonsense – but it was their nonsense.
As they left the main street Howard stared at the flying carpet hovering above the stones for a moment. Last time he had seen one of these it had been in his rear window and Nate had been yelling at him, and now almost a day later they wanted him to get on it voluntarily? Not a chance –
"Howard," Naboo said from where he was sitting on the carpet. Howard blinked, staring at the carpet.
"I thought I was – "
"Don't worry about it, get on." Howard nodded. How many times had they been on this thing? They'd been to Xooberon and back on it, but the anxious fear in his gut had been real. Did that mean James had been real? Howard didn't know, he barely knew where real, where Howard, began and where James, where fiction, ended. He was a mess, and he was terrified, and things kept slotting back into place.
"Howard? Howard? HowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHoward?"
"What?"
"You know the black bits in banana's, are they tarantula's eggs?"
"Don't ever speak to me again in your life."
The carpet wavered for a moment as Howard sat down, the two men in feathers settling down behind Naboo.
Howard looked over at the shaman, and for the first time the Shaman looked … smaller. He was missing something.
"Naboo?" Howard asked, the knowledge springing up to him with the force of a blow to the back of his head, a growl, a misspoken name…
"Where's Bollo?"
Something unmistakeable flashed across Naboo's face and disappeared into stony calm.
"Stupid berk got himself caught, ages back."
Howard didn't notice the fact that the carpet had risen off the ground and was fast heading skywards as he glanced over at Naboo, almost entranced by the taught way he maintained his indifferent calm. They were silent a moment before Naboo spoke.
"I miss him," he said, quietly, almost as if trying not to draw notice to the words before he fell silent again.
Howard nodded, falling into the same silence, his mind a tumult of rushing memories and thoughts, all of them with Vince's face, strangely. It was as if everything before and after Vince was totally irrelevant in his life. He could barely remember the false memories of James over the real ones with Nate. The ones where they were almost Howard and Vince again. The two of them, getting through thick and thin by the skin of their teeth, immune simply through their own inane stupidity, or Vince's inane stupidity.
"Get ready to cast him into the pit of eternal flames!"
"Wait!"
"And who are you?"
"I'm Vince Noir! This is my mate, look there's been a mix up – you can't burn him!"
"And who's going to stop me?"
"I am!"
The memory rushed back to the forefront of his brain with a sick feeling in Howard's gut. Vince had come to his aid how many times beforewithout hesitation? It was always Vince coming to his rescue, Vince who got them both out of whatever situation they'd managed to get themselves in. But now it was Howard's turn to rescue Vince, and this time, like Vince, he'd go to the ends of the earth, or even to monkey hell, to do it.
"We'll get them back, Naboo," he said with a determination he didn't really feel.
Naboo grunted.
^(*)^
The first thing Vince felt as his eyes fluttered open was the conflicting temperature on either side of his body. It was horribly cold and hard on one side, the other was soft and warm, his head propped up against something large and … hairy, holding him tight. A small sigh escaped his lips and his heavy lids drooped closed again.
When he dragged himself conscious again he became aware of how heavy his body felt; lifting his eyelids was almost too much effort in itself and his throat felt tight and sticky, each ragged breath tore down it, burning. His mouth tasted sharp, some chemical aftertaste that burned and stung. His vision blurred and refused to settle and he clenched his fist into the warm fur and let his senses calm before he tried again.
"Vince?" a deep familiar voice rumbled from beneath him. "Precious Vince?"
Bollo, that was it. Bollo was there. But where was 'there'? The air hitched in his throat and he tried to open his eyes again, everything blurred and wouldn't stay still. His eyes were watering and each moment he held his head up was so tiring. Everything was warped and slow, and something smelt funny. Really harsh. Chemicals, that was what they were, his throat was raw and breathing hurt. What had happened? The inside of his mouth was horribly dry. His tongue felt thick and sluggish, too much booze, he concluded trying to open heavy eyelids again.
"Vince?" it was slightly more timid now, as if worried something wasn't happening. But he was awake, he could hear Bollo. Bollo, yes, that was it. Bollo; he must've fallen asleep on Bollo.
"Bol-lo – " he croaked; tiny blue eyes crinkled and a large warm hand reached up and pressed lightly against Vince's head, sending it back down against Bollo's warm side. There was a snuffling sound and something wrapped around him, lifting him, hoisting him further into the warmth. Bollo, Bollo must be holding him. Straining with the effort, he lifted his arms, and tried to wrap them around the gorilla. He didn't know what he'd managed to do, he couldn't see, his eyes just wouldn't open all the way, but it was some semblance of a hug.
"Precious Vince sleep again. Bollo keep watch," the gorilla ordered and despite himself, Vince obeyed; he couldn't keep his eyes open, they were too heavy and everything hurt. He couldn't remember why, maybe Howard would know. He'd ask Howard later.
^(*)^
The most unnerving thing Howard found about the otherwise silent carpet ride was their destination. Of all the places he wasn't keen on going back to, the Velvet Onion was high on the list.
The lights were still off as the carpet descended slowly and came to a rest outside the dilapidated club. Naboo's face was impassive, but the Shaman met Howard's eyes when he looked over. The silence that had taken over the journey maintained itself though, heavy and harrowing as Howard followed the small Shaman off the carpet and into the club.
The door shrieked as Naboo opened it and disappeared. Howard followed tentatively, listening to the scrapes and voices from within. The first thing he noticed was that Fossil's voice was missing and even better the unstable man was nowhere to be seen as he surveyed the club in its dark blue light.
Instead of the empty dance floor that had made everything echo, Howard looked around at where the Shaman Council had taken up residence, setting up two large tables; one for the Board, who were sitting in a row talking quietly amongst themselves, and another slightly larger table was set up off centre, where a number of decrepit looking Shaman were bustling around, some of them waving their arms and frowning as they babbled along.
"This is where the Shaman Council's set up, for now." Naboo said, nodding to the obvious sight before them.
"I thought they were all into the forest thing," Howard murmured, trying to fit unsure names to obscure faces. Was Saboo the one with the grey hair or the feathers?
"Yeah, well it's not really working out for this type of mission."
"What type of mission?"
"End of the world, Howard. What else do you think it is?" Naboo frowned.
"Why do Vince and I have to get involved in something as ridiculous as this?" Howard groaned, feeling panic swirl in the pit of his stomach.
"Because you're jerkoffs. That's why," Naboo said it with what was surely supposed to be disdain, though Howard was sure for a moment (though convinced himself sorely mistaken) that it was more like affection.
"Thanks, Naboo."
The Shaman shrugged.
Howard glanced around, shoulders hunched; it just didn't feel right. It was too quiet, and the memory of what happened when they were here last was still fresh.
"Where's Fossil?"
"He was here when we arrived, he's locked in one of the changerooms out back. For his own protection really. He's completely lost it." Naboo didn't seem too fussed about the fact Fossil was locked in a room at the back of the club, walking off and leaving Howard standing somewhat awkwardly by the edge of the stairs. There were people everywhere, all of them wearing the oddest clothes in which Howard quickly found the irony, considering the outfits Vince and the other usual visitors to the club wore daily. But regardless of Vince's penchant for cat suits and sequins, it was the oddest thing to see so many men walking around in robes and feathers, turbans and rolls of silk, green skin, blue skin, white skin and balding, long hair, no hair, curled hair, straight – it was a melee and Howard gulped as the knowledge occurred to him that any one of them could turn him into a toad or something, as stupid as that seemed. After all, just because Naboo had never threatened that didn't mean Shaman couldn't.
Sidling back in the shadows, away from the bumbling crowd, Howard felt his skin tingle with a strange buzzing. It buzzed again, his skin itching; he rubbed at his arm, where it shuddered and buzzed, making him fidget and itch, scratching at the skin through his jacket, much like Vince around Jazz. Perhaps he was allergic to Shaman magic he thought, scratching again, the itching tingling the skin on his stomach and that's when he felt it. He felt his cheeks redden as he looked around sheepishly, hoping no one had noticed him writhing and itching like a loon as he pulled his vibrating phone out of his pocket.
Embarrassed he glanced at the screen before a sinking feeling filled the hollow well he was sure was his stomach. He stared at the name for a moment like it was a venomous snake before guilt got the better of him, after all it was rude to ignore a phone call, and he answered.
"Where the hell are you, James? I've been looking for you! Where's Nate? Christ, James. You pair left me back at the bar!" a small squeak escaped his lips as Court's voice screamed out the speaker, not even giving him the chance to speak.
"James!" Howard cleared his throat. It was Court; Court was on the phone, talking to James. But he wasn't James anymore. Howard frowned; did James even exist anymore? Did he exist before? Howard swallowed and pressed the phone to his ear. The sound of Court's voice was doing nothing to calm the panic swirling around in his stomach. He wasn't good with women, never had been – but she was expecting him to be something he wasn't. Not only something he wasn't, someone.
"Hey, Court."
"James, have you been listening? Did you even remember I was there?"
"Sorry, Court, something's happened."
She shut up immediately.
"What? What is it?"
"N-Nate, he's err, missing."
"Missing? James – what did you do? Where are you? I'll come help – "
"No," Howard cut her off, his voice trembling. "I've … there's people helping already. His friends – we'll, I'll be fine."
"You sure, James? I'll be right there –"
"No, I'm okay. I'll talk to you later."
"Alright, stay safe, James."
"- Yeah." He slid the phone closed.
"What do I tell her, Naboo?" he asked, softly, glancing at the shaman who had appeared at Howard's side during the brief conversation.
"That my whole life, James' whole life wasn't real?"
"Dunno, Howard. That's up to you, right now we've got more to worry about than that."
"What do you think they'll do to him?"
"Dunno, Howard. Don't even know who they are, yet."
"You don't know? What have you been doing for six months?"
"Running, hiding, smoking."
"Oh." He really shouldn't have expected anything less.
"Do I need to stay out here?"
"You shouldn't leave, Howard."
"I'm not, I just - want to go somewhere. Here in the club."
Naboo looked at him for a moment, a lot going on behind the blank eyes, but he nodded and Howard nodded back, not sure why, he just needed something to do with himself, needed some movement to remind him that his body still worked, even though there seemed this hollow where something should have been. Something important.
No one paid him any mind as he wove through the pillars away from the main floor, heading for the one room he vaguely remembered: a tiny dressing room with music posters on the wall and a paper sign almost permanently attached to the door.
Vince Noir.
Right now he needed Vince, and Vince needed him.
It was time he needed to be a Man of Action, but before then, he needed to just be with Vince, any way he could. Vince's old dressing room would have to do, he thought pausing for a moment to stare at the first closed door where two shamen were standing guard. He didn't stay long, the way Fossil had spoken to them before, the way he'd leered at Vince in particular was something that left him uncomfortable to say the least.
"I'm not Vince – "
He hurried past.
Vince's change room was just the way Howard remembered it. Red walls and music posters all around, an assortment of coloured accessories scattered around the room, feather boas and boots, belts and necklaces. The vanity with its light bulbs around the mirror like some celebrity, the table almost lost under the cans of hairspray and serum and empty packets of Haribo. The place was almost a shrine, after all, it had been six months and it was painfully clear no one else had used the room in all that time.
Howard sank down into the couch and rested his head in his hands. It was almost painfully quiet, even the sounds coming from the dance floor where the Shaman were 'working' was absent.
"HOWARD!"
A sob caught in his throat as the sound of Vince screaming his name bounced around the walls of his mind. How could he have not seen it sooner? Just seeing him should have been enough to bring everything that was Howard back, but Naboo's words once again echoed up through the dark, "It needs a key, Howard. That's just the way the thing works." And his key had been his name. What had Vince's been? What had Vince used to be his key? A key that had been somewhat weaker than Howard's, or had Vince simply wanted to be Vince more than Howard wanted to be Howard? Of course he had. Vince had always been happy in who he was. But, the inkling of it settled on the tip of Howard's tongue, had Vince wanted to be Vince because he had Howard?
After all, Nate Warner had been a lonely soul. A wanderer, "I went up to Leeds, just went AWOL, you know? Didn't know why, just did." Vince was anything but a wanderer, he was a homebody, making where he was where he was going to stay forever. And Howard had been a part of that. But Howard had never been content at home, content with Vince, and yet Vince had always been the one with so many prospects but he had never left Howard. Even as Nate he'd gone wandering, searching out Howard, Howard had come from Leeds, and so Nate had gone to Leeds. Vince had been Nate, and Nate had been lonely. Howard had been James, and James had been with people who liked him, but hadn't he had that before? The air was cold on his bare skin as he pulled his sleeve up. He stared at it, the bare strip of flesh he knew he could twist and burn and punish himself with; he stared at the impending pain that a combination of instinct and habit had told him to do. What had they come to? When had everything become so twisted?
Howard groaned and brought his hands up to his eyes, pressing against the eyelids, hiding everything from view.
"Vince?" the younger man was rummaging through his CD's, not stacking them or sorting what to take with him, just … rummaging. Something to do with his hands. He didn't turn around when Howard spoke.
"What, Howard?"
"I, err - I have to go –" Howard said, but Vince didn't even turn around.
"I know, Howard. Naboo told us, I was there. I'm trying to pack, honest."
"No, Vince, I'm going. Alone. We have to split up." Vince set down the CD he was holding, it clicked as it met the other plastic. They were both silent for a moment, and then slowly Vince turned around.
"Why?" Vince finally said, "We've always been together, Howard." Vince grew more earnest as he spoke. "Why are we splitting up now?"
"Naboo, said -" Howard stopped, taking a breath and resting a hand on Vince's sparkling shoulder. "We can't."
"Why not? Howard, why?"
"I'm sorry, Vince."
"There you are, you ballbag," Naboo said, folding his arms in the doorway.
"Come on, the Board's ready, we have to figure something out to get Vince back."
"This was his dressing room, you know? Every time he played here," Howard murmured, not looking up at Naboo as he spoke.
"I remember that, funny – I can't remember all the Jazz LP's I've collected, but I know Vince never once used a different changing room than this one. I know I've had six of the rarest LP's in existence, I know Vince broke one, and Bollo broke two back at the Zoo." A small pained expression flashed across Naboo's face but was gone before Howard registered it had been there at all.
"But I don't remember what they were, I don't remember a lot of things; when I moved down from Leeds, where I went to school, why I left school to go to the zoo. I can't remember that, but I remember Vince doesn't like the purple fruitloops, he thinks they're black. Cereal's not mean to be black. He only drinks coffee from that little coffeehouse a block away from the shop, mocha, four sugars, he gets two on Wednesdays, keeps the energy up for the rest of the week. I don't remember the date of my parents wedding anniversary but I know when he drinks coffee, Naboo."
"Come on Howard," Naboo said, almost sadly. Howard sighed and followed the tiny Shaman back onto the dance floor.
The Board hadn't moved and were still conversing between themselves. The other Shaman were still bustling around their table talking animatedly, though Howard couldn't hear a word they were saying.
"So this is him, Naboo?" the Head Shaman said, voice booming as he sat up straight and addressed Naboo; Howard stood awkwardly to the left of his once-landlord. Howard looked the tall Shaman in front of him up and down. He was a dominating figure, yes sir.
"Yeah," Naboo said.
"Then let us begin. You have been summoned before this Board, Harold –"
"It's Howard."
The Shaman looked affronted at being interrupted and then seemed confused, as though he'd lost where he was going. Howard watched him, trying to fit a name to the face. He had a moustache; at the very least the man knew a sensible man's look, however the feathers weren't helping that any further. His moustache was the only thing of distinction, defining his face. Dennis. That was it; the name came tearing back with the image of Vince in a kaftan, a silver headband and the cool night air. Howard blinked away the image as the darker man to Dennis' left muttered something and the pink thing to that man's left sniggered.
"Whatever." The darker man sneered, looking up and meeting Howard's gaze. Howard looked away, feeling almost guilty, about what he wasn't sure.
"You have been summoned before this Board, for a matter of grave urgency," Dennis boomed, finally getting back what he'd temporarily lost. "This Board should have been informed immediately, however, Naboo, you did not. You broke several Shamanic laws."
"He should be punished!" the pink tentacled thing shrieked.
"Can it Harrison," the head Shaman scowled.
"We shall save punishment for a later date. We are in a grave position at the present time, Naboo. You have put us all in a great state of peril. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Got any weed?" Naboo smirked; Howard turned his head, too sharply as his neck jarred, and stared aghast at Naboo.
"What? You can't get high now! We have to get Vince back! We have to get him back – you have to get Bollo back! And I don't know what is all this about! " He stopped, feeling everyone's eyes on him. The dance floor was completely silent.
"You don't remember?" Dennis asked, leaning forward.
"I remember, yes sir. My mind is like a –" he stopped; listening to himself ramble on even to his own ears it just sounded ridiculous. Was this how he used to be? Of course it was; with the name so much of the old Howard had come back, but then thinking about it, old mannerisms had been leaking through the more he and Vince maintained contact as Nate and James. But there was a definite line between old mannerisms leaking through and his itching fingers the closer he got to the table and pile of unsorted paper. He was back to being Howard Moon, and he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. He sighed.
"I don't understand," he finished softly, hoping they did. Hoping that they could see he didn't remember. He remembered some, little insignificant pieces, snippets of dialogue, stories that he knew were memories lacking certain details, but there were several very distinct images in his head, all of them faces – all of them Vince. He did remember some of who he was, of what had gone on before he remembered none of it, but they were the most vague; it was funny how the important things in his life never came into focus until after they were required.
"Naboo – you informed us he had his memory back."
"He does, sort of." Naboo frowned, kicking Howard's leg as though the Northerner had let him down somewhat.
"Well, if he knows nothing of this situation we have no reason to involve him."
"We have every reason to involve him, Saboo, he knows more than we do – it is simply locked away in his befuddled mind."
"We're doomed."
"Hey!"
"Quiet! After all, this human as I said, knows more of the situation at hand than we. We must help to extract this information from the recesses of his mind. Naboo, explain to him, and again to this Board, what has happened. But I must remind you, we have not much time and the background to this story is long and complex, involving an intricate series of legends and lore associated with Shaman, things only know by Shaman. It's a delicate process, a powerful story - "
"I'll keep it short, Howard," Naboo said, interrupting Dennis.
"I still don't see why we must divulge such information to this plum, Dennis." Saboo scowled.
"They are Shamanistic secrets, passed only from Shaman to Shaman!" Tony Harrison declared to no one in particular.
"It is necessary for him to understand; after all, he has been involved in this situation long before us. He must understand what it all means, and he must help us reclaim what is ours. Naboo – since you were the one to involve him before involving this Board, you shall have the honour of explaining."
Naboo nodded, Howard simply looked nonplussed, looking between Dennis and Naboo, Saboo and Tony Harrison, who continued to exclaim everything was an outrage, and that if he had been alerted to its location before none of this would have happened. Howard closed his mouth, which had been hanging open. He had absolutely no idea what they were all on about.
"It's a bit of a story, Howard," Naboo said, and Howard finally turned his attention back to the tiny Shaman.
"But I've told you some of this before, so it might come back to you a bit as I go along. Some bits I never told you, and some bits you know more than I do."
"I don't care. Just tell me." Naboo nodded and complied. It was easy really – telling people what to do, Howard mused. But it felt strange in this, well, mindset to have people obey him.
"Right, basically it's my mate Barry's fault," Naboo started, and Saboo rolled his eyes, the action loud enough for everyone to hear his disdain.
"About seven and half months ago, a month before we split up, I got a phone call from Barry. Barry and me go way back, he used to come on tour with me Rudi and Spider, he could drink that much tequila he used to put us to shame. Spider used to spike it with anythin', try and catch him out, never could. Haven't seen him since you tried to procreate with those yetis. Anyway, Barry told me he'd found something; something that he wasn't quite sure was real. Reckoned he was high, but he wasn't. He didn't say what, but he didn't talk much, kept things small; except booze, that was the only thing he did large. Couple of weeks later Harrison called, said Barry was dead. No one said anything about what Barry'd found, still it worried me a bit. Week later I got a package – from Barry. He'd sent me what he'd found, ballbag. A stone. Scared me out of my turban. See, there's this old folktale back on Xooberon –"
"It is not a simple folktale, Naboo – it is a powerful legend, with roots deep in the history of our planet and race." Naboo blinked at Dennis and when he turned his gaze back to Howard there was a faint gleam of annoyance in his eyes. It was strange, the look in Naboo's eyes, there was a sharpness to them that Howard found alien. It was a strange gleam, one that he realised with a sharp jolt that said firmly that for the first time since he'd met the Shaman, Naboo wasn't stoned.
"It's a story we tell the new kids, Howard. When we're being trained, about this stone, this legendary rock that has the power to bestow or revoke the powers of a Shaman, the Namahs Stone."
"Namahs Stone? What sort of name is that?" a voice rippled across the back of Howard's mind in Vince's cockney slang.
"It's 'shaman', backwards."
"Oh." Howard blushed a little, unaware he'd thought aloud.
"It is a powerful magical object, not a 'stupid rock', Naboo." Dennis frowned, taking the opportunity in the quiet to make his presence known once again to the Board. "It is a dangerous –"
"Oh I do like a good story, let the story continue!" Harrison shrieked, interrupting, Dennis fell silent with a frown.
"You told Naboo to explain, Dennis. So stop interrupting," Saboo said with a smirk.
"I find it strange, Saboo," Dennis said, rising in his chair once again, tall and proud and feathers quivering. "That since I have reinstated you with your old partner, Kirk, you have been agreeing with Tony Harrison - "
"And what does that mean?"
"It means, Saboo, that perhaps I should reconsider, for fear of replicating past embarrassing events -"
"That is not of anyone's concern, Dennis. We all have things we are not proud of, Methuselah would surely have something to say about that."
Dennis turned in his seat and the look in his eyes sent Howard reeling. They had completely forgotten.
"Hey!" he wasn't sure whose voice it was for a moment, the fact it was himself who was speaking took a moment to register.
"Stop it! I don't care – about your wife, or your partner or any of it! I care about my partner! About Vince! So just shut up!" Howard blinked, staring at the dumbfounded Board, all of them silent in the wake of his outburst.
"I mean, we could – I, err. I mean, Naboo?" He turned to his friend searching for help, but the odd expression on Naboo's face was another change in the Shaman Howard found disconcerting. Naboo didn't do expressions. And he certainly didn't do compassion.
"I'll keep going, shall I?" Naboo asked, with an air as if he didn't need to ask.
Dennis nodded stiffly.
"Everyone always told it like a story," Naboo started, "but it's real as my turban, and its dangerous - for any Shaman. But powerful too. You'd be invincible if you had it – an' someone killed Barry for it already. Back then I wasn't up for being second. So I was gonna run, 'cept you two would only wind up dead cause you're muppets like that. Even if I left – it wouldn't matter. No one knows any pity once they're after the stone. They'll do anything to get it.
"So I warned you about it and helped you escape – Cause I was running I didn't want you pair blabbing off where I was so I wiped your memories clean, gave you new lives. Good thing too, day after I sent you pair off they ransacked the shop. They'll do anything to get it; the hunt for this rock is legendary, it's the most dangerous thing on Xooberon, and it being here on this planet, Earth is just one giant hunting ground."
"Why didn't you consult the Board?" Howard asked tentatively. Saboo rose in his chair and smiled.
"Yes, Naboo. Why didn't you inform this Board?"
"I wasn't sure if we could trust 'em. That's why I never told anyone about it. You're always going on about the Crunch, didn't know if you could actually handle it. I just made us all disappear."
"The Crunch?" Saboo scowled. "You and your caterpillar friend know nothing –"
"Here we go," Dennis said, with an exasperated roll of his eyes.
"Calm! Everyone," he tried to say over Saboo.
"Everyone knows that those who can't do – teach!" Naboo smirked. Saboo's face went stony and his feathered collar bristled.
"Saboo, calm yourself!" Dennis commanded, laying a hand on Saboo's arm. "And you made an unwise decision, Naboo, one that has deeply affected this Board, however it cannot be changed. Continue -"
"Like I said, they ransacked the shop next day, I'd already set you up with one of Pete's alias', Howard –"
"One of Pete's? Is that why I had an outstanding debt?"
"Err, yeah." Naboo had the decency to look a little ashamed.
"I don't remember why we picked Vince's name. Anyway, I send you pair off and then me and Bollo ran off to Majorca for a while and then disappeared. Never told anyone, not even the Board. S'far as I know they've been looking for me for the past six months," he said, motioning to the Board; Dennis looked guilty for a second and shifted in his seat, " but they weren't the only ones. Someone else knows the Stone's here on Earth, some eejit's gone and blabbed, and this other lot were looking for us too - and when they couldn't find me – they went after you two. This lot –" he motioned again to the Board, Saboo scowled even deeper, "they reckoned I'd show me head eventually, other lot weren't so sure, and they didn't know what I'd done to hide you. So when they couldn't find me, they faked my death and waited for you to show up. Even with the memory charm in place you still did – both of you. It was a bleeding nightmare. You're a right pair of ballbags. But you've managed to keep the stone safe, so I suppose that's something."
Howard looked up from where he'd been staring at his boots during Naboo's speech, listening to small things sounding familiar and slotting into place as they were explained.
"We 'ave to go?"
"Go where? Holiday? We ain't going back to the woods are we?" Vince whined, looking up at Naboo from the couch and a copy of cheekbone.
"No, you plumb. We gotta go. Old friend of mine's landed me in a right mess."
"Then sort him out! Turn him into a frog or sommat."
"It's not that simple, and I'm not a magician Vince, I' m a shaman, that's a whole different thing. Y'need special training for that. Ten years on Yureth, whole other planet and they're right ballbags."
"Sounds all the same t'me," Vince mumbled.
"What do you mean we have got to go, Naboo? What do me an Vince have to do with this?"
"You pair have to go too, else you're gonna get killed."
"As if, Naboo, we're not gonna get killed! Howard ain't got us in any trouble yet! That's the way stuff works!"
"Nothing's working the way it should right now you nonce! Just hurry up and pack."
Naboo's words filtered through the vague memory.
You have managed to keep the stone safe, so I suppose that's something…
"Whoa there Nelly; we managed to keep the stone safe? We? As in me and Vince?"
"Yeah, I might have given you and Vince the stone to keep a hold of." All eyes turned to fix on Howard. Howard felt his face reddening.
"Us?"
"Much rather you pair get killed than me, amount of rubbish you've got me into over the years. You owe me a lot."
"Didn't know we had an account to pay!"
"So you're saying, Naboo, that you gave the most powerful object in this solar system to two shopkeepers to take care of?" Dennis asked, an odd expression on his face Howard couldn't place.
"Yeah,"
"I'm very disappointed in you, Naboo."
"You wouldn't have done any better, you'd have put it in the safe, and Methusela'd get it in the divorce settlement." Naboo scowled, Dennis sat up straight.
"She knows she gets nothing out of my sacred cabinet."
"She gets everything out of your sacred cabinet, how do you think she's still that attractive at four hundred and six?"
"She works out six days a week,"
"No she's not, she's riding the pool boy."
"Riding the pool boy? I'll teach that jockey how to ride my wife!"
"While she watches?" sniggered Saboo, Dennis blushed.
"Enough! Naboo, due to your actions we now have lost the Namahs Stone. I'm guessing this Vince has it?"
"He's got a bit, yeah."
"Half?" Howard asked, looking between Dennis who was still vaguely red and Naboo, who was still indifferent and bored.
"It's got a few pieces, you need all of them to make it work. I gave you and Vince one each."
"Me?" Howard stared at the tiny Shaman incredulously. Naboo never trusted him with anything. True the shop used to be in his care, but Naboo never really trusted him with it, there was always hesitation before Naboo gave over the keys, always quips about his selling skills, teasing and belittling where there were only complements for Vince's simple attentions. Why on earth had Naboo given him half of something that had the power to destroy the world? More to the point why would he give both of them something that dangerous?
"Yeah, Vince has the main bit, I gave you the bottom half. S'like a stand or something. Vince put the rock in a necklace." Howard's eyes glazed, remembering how Nate's fingers would constantly toy with the pendant around his neck. Not that Howard knew what the necklace looked like, he'd usually been too engrossed with how Vince's clothes hugged his frame, his shoulders, his hips and buttocks where Howard could see them, that caught Howard's eye more than enough to pay any attention to what the necklace looked like. The stand however, that he vaguely remembered taking. So vaguely it was like catching smoke, wispy and fragile and impossible to hold.
"You gotta keep this safe, Howard. It's crucial."
"Alright, you can trust me Naboo, I'm a man of action – no one'll get their hands on this baby!"
"Yeah - Just don't lose it."
"He –" Howard croaked, "Vince. He wears this pendant around his neck, he plays with it. Would that be it?"
"Yeah. I told him what I told you, don't bloody lose it."
"He didn't. He still has it."
"Good. So where did you keep yours, you ballbag?"
Howard swallowed, thinking back; everyone was watching him, he could feel their eyes on him. He shifted nervously. He was always anxious under scrutiny, the only person he ever felt safe having look at him was Vince; Vince was calming, despite his hyper nature; he was soothing beyond his smiles and quips and sneers. He was life, all sugar and light, he was trouble and solace, comfort and testing, trusting and stupid. He was Vince. Howard smiled and the thought came to him.
"It's in the taxi. In the glove box," he said aloud, hearing Vince's voice from Nate's mouth as he took it out, searching for loose change. It had been right there in the taxi, both pieces of the puzzle. Howard frowned.
"Well that's where I put all my possibly world destructive items," Saboo sneered.
"Your carpet doesn't have a glove box, you nonce. It doesn't even have air conditioning! You, my friend, need an upgrade," Tony Harrison wailed. Saboo looked down at him for a moment with an undecipherable look on his face.
"Shut it," he scowled, the rest of his response lost in a small chorus of shouting. Everyone turned to look, Kirk rising from his chair and following Naboo towards the noise, the rest of the board following a little less eager.
"What is it?" Howard asked, chasing after. Naboo didn't speak until they were standing outside the open door, though, pushing aside the stunned shaman who was supposed to be on guard.
"It's Fossil, he's gone," Naboo murmured, looking between the broken changeroom door to the emergency exit door slightly ajar.
"Fossil's gone?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
"This means nothing, Naboo – there are more important matters to discuss." Dennis said, offhand, turning around to go back to his table and the wailing Harrison who hadn't been moved.
"He shouldn't have been let out, he might've known something."
"That fool could not have told you which way was up." Saboo sneered.
'"He knew enough that he could get out through the emergency exit."
"Well they work." Howard said, trying to smile, but it just felt wrong. No one else had felt that same adrenaline rushing through that same emergency door Kirk was standing by as he had, as they had. No one had been with Vince so long that being without him felt this wrong. No one could understand – except maybe the small shaman by his side, the shaman who was twice as small without his bumbling familiar.
"Well there is nothing to do now – Naboo, regardless of what knowledge that fool possesses, we have enough fool in this Northerner here to last us long enough. Come – there is still much to discuss"
And how much time to do it in? Howard couldn't help but think. How long did Vince have?
^(*)^
When Vince woke again, dragging himself conscious was a little easier. His throat still blazed, but everything was less … heavy.
"Bollo?"
"Precious Vince," the gorilla sound relieved. Vince sighed, feeling tears on his lashes.
"Oh, Bollo!" he murmured as things started rushing around in his head, arranging themselves quickly; his brain room in a flurry of activity it had never experienced before. Not even when Howard had kissed him.
When James had kissed Nate.
With that thought he came crashing back down to earth really quickly and really bloody hard. The small smile slipped from his face. He remembered, not everything, but he knew why he was here. He was here because of Naboo.
"Bollo – Naboo!" the gorilla's eyes crinkled sadly, losing their sparkle in the wake of Vince waking up.
"Little Naboo not here."
"Then where is he?"
"Bollo not know. Bollo been here many weeks, not seen Naboo for ages."
"Why?"
"Bollo kept Naboo back, Bollo bad for Naboo, so Bollo let himself get caught, let little Naboo escape."
Vince ducked his head and hid himself in his fringe, or what was left of it, and Bollo's fur. The gorilla patted Vince's head affectionately.
"I'm sorry Bollo," he murmured, stroking the gorilla's fur for a moment.
"Howard? What about him?" he croaked finally; he could remember seeing Howard run towards him, but nothing else, everything went blank.
"Bollo not heard about Harold."
"His name is Howard, Bollo."
"Bollo know."
"Then say it, yeah."
"Howard special to precious Vince. Precious Vince special to Bollo. Bollo will try."
"Cheers." The word came easily, but it didn't sound right. The urge to smile and be happy had returned, but he was so unused to it, it felt odd. He didn't even know if there was any reason for it anymore. After all, even James had turned his back on Nate, Howard had certainly done the same thing to Vince, and not for the first time, something whispered nastily. Vince swallowed painfully.
"Where are we, Bollo?"
"Bollo not know. All Bollo know is they after Stone, Bollo not know what Naboo done with it. Bollo tell them that. Perhaps they ask Precious Vince same thing." The words punctured something still covered and hidden in Vince's mind, his cells still searching for the videotape to explain in picture form, but he felt it connect somewhere. His hand instinctively snuck up to hold onto the pendant around his neck.
"Oh," Vince said, not looking the Gorilla.
"It's a powerful Shaman object, Vince. You have to keep it safe."
"It will be okay, Naboo will not leave Precious Vince here. Howard ballbag, but he not leave you either. You will see," the primate said, trying to be soothing. Vince smiled, albeit weakly.
"Yeah, I know Bollo," he murmured, nuzzling into his friend's warm fur again.
Vince couldn't remember much, but he knew that whoever had caught him didn't know that he had part of what they were looking for. If they did they certainly would have taken it off him, and he was pretty sure that once they did that there was no use for him what so ever, and he'd be disposed of. The police really would find the body of Vincent Noir, previously of the Nabootique, Dalston.
He shuddered, sighing as Bollo ran a hand through his hair, soothing him towards sleep. As worried as he was, as wired as he knew he should be, his body still hurt and the primate's simple gesture soothed him into sleep faster than Howard reading Tolstoy.
^(*)^
"Get that stupid orang-utan out of there!" a deep voice boomed, jerking Vince awake. He froze, one hand unconsciously tightening on Bollo's fur as he blinked away the sleep in his eyes, trying to grasp the world in focus. Bollo tightened his hold around Vince, settling a pounding fear in Vince's chest with that small action.
"What's happening?" he whispered.
"I said get him out of there! Who put them both in there anyway! – Boon, you fool!" someone yelped as though kicked, but Vince wasn't paying much attention to what was happening beyond the bars of his cell. A pair in black masks, sort of like the ninjas who delivered his Cheekbone once upon a time, were opening the door and advancing on him and Bollo. Vince heard Bollo emit a low grumbling growl, but the pair didn't heed his choked warning, as Bollo began to cough, caught in an asthma attack.
"No –" Vince croaked. He was still too drowsy and weak and it didn't take all that much for them to pry him out of Bollo's grasp. They were two girls, Vince realised when he saw the flash of blonde beneath the balaclava, and shapely curves. The other ninja yelled something at Bollo, it was harsh and a scary sound. Something silver lashed out and Bollo yelped as the stick hit him. The sound ricocheted off the walls and straight into Vince. It woke in him something that still felt groggy and weak, but nothing made Bollo sound like that. Nothing. He pushed at the hands trying to hold him, the feeling building.
"No!" his voice sounded broken as it echoed, but it didn't matter. The girls' hands were tough and held on, despite how he thrashed. The silver something flashed out and hit him this time, it connected and a flaring pain rushed down his side. The second girl's eyes gleamed almost madly in the darkness.
"Hurry up you pair! I'm a busy man!" the voice called, deep and almost hypnotic. It had been years since Vince had heard that voice, but it still resonated deep within him. It was a voice he could never forget.
Another flash of silver and Bollo yelped again, and Vince lost the feeling of warm fur on bare skin completely, the cold rushing in on him from all sides.
"No!" he moaned and the silver thing hit him again.
"Enough, enough. Dump him there," the voice said, and Vince felt rushing air as the girl dropped him before he hit cold hard stone, pushing the breath from him. The world spun and he couldn't tell which way they were taking Bollo. He could barely tell which way was up, everything was swirling. He only just resisted the urge to be sick, his stomach heaving. He waited, letting everything settle before he tried again. But as he struggled to push himself up his chest tightened and he broke off, coughing.
When he stopped he could hear tough, well-made boots echoing on the stone, the squeak of leather as they stretched with their owner's movement.
Vince coughed again, pushing himself defiantly onto his knees. A second person entered, the sound of their shoes clicking echoing in the darkness. A shuddering breath escaped Vince's lips. He wanted to cry out, for Bollo, for Howard but he could barely breathe and he couldn't give them the pleasure of mewling or whining or crying.
The second lot of boots, the clicking ones, stopped.
"I want you to stand guard, make sure he doesn't exert himself. I'll be back later. I have to see a German about a bear, and a Shaman about an amulet." The first voice boomed, the second person didn't say anything before the two sets of boots turned and left, the first squeaking out the door and gone, the second just to the doorway, fully hidden in the shadows. Vince waited, baited breath in the darkness, listening, the only sound that came was the shriek of the door being slammed closed and the darkness rushed in, thick and unyielding. This time, alone in the dark, a small whimper escaped Vince's lips. He was alone, and he felt it.
He dragged himself towards the wall, his whole body screaming at him; it hurt to breathe, hurt to think. He flopped against the stone, a small wheezing chuckle escaping.
"You just don't think do you? Before you do anything. You just do. It drives me nuts, Vince."
Howard's voice rippled up through the darkness.
Propping himself up against the firm, chilled stone, he let the cold wash through him. It was the only thing holding him up. He was disorientated, so bloody confused. Everything seemed to be trying to find its place; in his mind, in here – wherever here was -- who was involved, what this all was. It all had a place, and that place was trying to explain itself to him any way it could. But he was so tired, his body ached, his mind echoed – he felt like screaming only he didn't have the energy. Even the monkey, the clapping bloody toy that had driven him near insanity as Nate was welcome in comparison to this confusion; what was Nate, what was Vince and what was universal. It was too much. The cold rushed through him, in a way it seemed to feed the desolation pooling in the pit of his stomach, and mixed in he could feel anger, hurt, rejection. His memory was fuzzy, but he knew that those feelings had the right to be there. He knew that something wasn't right. Howard had turned his back on him and walked away. Howard had left him. But that had been as James, right? Vince let his head fall against the rock, and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure. He didn't know. Everything was a mixture, a horrible mess of colour and shape and fabric – there was no style, no semblance of order; it was just a shambles; a fashion nightmare of dreams and memories, and memories in dreams. But Howard had walked away from him. Howard had turned his back on him. Howard had said goodbye.
But you only said goodbye when you meant it, right?
A small cry escaped his lips. Bollo's warmth had completely evaporated. The room was hollow and echoing and icy. He leant further, closer into the wall, closer into the cold. If he was cold then maybe he couldn't feel.
^(*)^
It was sunny outside, just past midday or there about, but the sudden sunshine was doing nothing for Howard's nerves. Still jumpy from the slam of the door as Fossil escaped, still nervous about the fact Fossil was let loose on London, anxious that Vince was captured and worries that every second they wasted was putting him in more danger, the sheer panic stirring in his stomach was doing nothing to ease anything.
"It's not here!" he flustered, scrambling through the junk in his car. It wasn't in the glove box, it wasn't under the seats; it wasn't anywhere. It was gone.
"What do you mean it's not?"
"I mean it's gone! I know it was here. I saw it – Nate fou- I mean Vince found it, we were looking for change for the payphone! It was here!"
"You sure you checked everywhere?"
"I'm sure!" Howard yelled back at the Shaman. He could hear Naboo mumbling at him outside the car. He determinedly rifled through the glove box again, nothing. It was full of junk, missing the one thing they needed. Typical.
"Come on, we'll tell Dennis. We'll figure something out."
"But if it's not here then whoever has Vince probably has my part too, right?"
"Probably. That's usually how this sort of thing goes."
"But if they have both parts, what's gonna happen, Naboo?"
"They ain't got all the parts, Howard. There's a third bit. I've got it. So they can't do much, we just gotta find the rest of it. Get Vince an' Bollo back."
Howard blinked at the small Shaman as he turned his back and made back for the club, leaving Howard half in, half out of the taxi, standing in the sunshine. Since their carpet ride Bollo hadn't been mentioned, even though his absence was very obvious. It was really quite shocking to Howard how much Naboo was missing his bumbling familiar. Even his brief mentions had shown Howard how much the indifferent little Shaman cared. Shaking himself, Howard ran after Naboo, out of the lunchtime sun and back into the club. It had shocked him how late it was – the night coming and going without his notice while they were locked away within the Velvet Onion. He'd spent far too much time inside the seedy club than he thought he ever would, and that was considering how much time Vince spent there.
He caught up with Naboo over at the Board's table fast enough to hear Naboo's explanation.
"He's gone an' lost it."
"Lost it?"
"This is –"
"Oh no," Dennis mumbled as Harrison took a breath.
"AN OUTRAGE."
"We are doomed. I knew this would happen, from the moment Naboo was involved."
"You really don't like me, do you?" Naboo frowned.
"No." Saboo scowled.
"We must hurry, Dennis, if we are to stop this potential apocalypse."
"There is a full moon tonight, that is when the awakening of the stone would be most potent. We have until then to figure this out, Naboo, is there anything else that you have not told us?"
Howard squirmed a little as Naboo said there wasn't. There had never been much he knew about the tiny Shaman, but now he didn't know a thing. Everything was alien about the, well, alien.
"Then we shall set our great minds to the task, Saboo, you shall work together with Tony Harrison," Saboo scowled.
"And I shall align my mind with Kirk's." Dennis turned to where the even tinier Shaman was meant to be sitting. The chair was empty.
"Where is Kirk?"
"He was right there, Sire," Saboo unhelpfully added.
"Well he is not now."
"Kirk?"
"Kiiiiirk!"
"Kirky boy – heeere Kirky?"
"Kirk?"
"Sire, it appears Kirk is missing," Saboo said turning to face Dennis, not one of them had risen from their chairs.
"We should not take this matter lightly, Saboo, but Kirk is renowned for his adventures, he could be gallivanting about the streets of Dalston, or he could be wandering the corridors of loneliness –"
"He's probably out back getting high," Naboo replied and the Board nodded, agreeing in boring dulcet tones.
"Harrison, go, find what is keeping Kirk."
"Oh, do I have to? I've been on me feet all day, I'm in a right state of pain."
"On your feet? You haven't moved you plug!"
"Oh dear." Dennis frowned and Naboo emitted a sigh of exasperation.
"Can we get on with this please? We gotta find Vince, he's got one half of the Stone, Howard's gone and lost the other –"
"Hey!" Howard scowled
"We've got an apocalypse to avert?"
"Once again you bring great trouble to this council, Naboo."
"Yeah, so's everyone else. Kirk's got a record longer than my arm. Maybe I should be on the Board, make sense wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps; there are some who could need … replacing." Dennis frowned, peering over at Saboo and Tony Harrison, the former who was holding Harrison away from him with a hand while Harrison tried to 'peel him like a satsuma'.
As much faith he had to put in them to get Vince back, Howard felt his hope decline as he listened. How could he find Vince when all he had was this? – A bunch of useless shaman who couldn't keep their minds on the task at hand when they had a more in-depth idea of the 'apocalypse' he and Vince seemed to have gotten themselves into. Especially when they didn't even know about the safety net Naboo had, and when one of their own was AWOL. They barely blinked, they didn't even move.
"He'll be alright, won't he Naboo?"
"Dunno, Howard. It's not up to you anymore."
Had it ever been up to him to save Vince? Had he ever been anything more to Vince than an eternal shadow? A lurker… a side kick? After all, he hadn't stopped Naboo from splitting them up; he should have tried harder then – if they were together then all this wouldn't have happened.
"Please, Naboo - "
The shaman frowned.
"Please - Naboo?"
"I'll do what I must Howard."
Howard's bottom lip wavered for a second and he closed his eyes, letting the memory settle. Vince had needed him back then before all this had happened, and he hadn't been able to stop it. He had to keep going now, as pointless as this endeavour seemed he had to keep at it; they had to find him. He had to give Vince some faith in him, in him, whoever he was: James or Howard. He still wasn't sure which, but the feeling in his gut, the vice like grip was universal; whoever he was, they had to get their blue-eyed friend back.
They had to.
But it was out of his hands, and all he could was watch as the Shaman took control of what they deemed their own affairs, and as much as he wanted to save Vince all on his own, there was a part of him - a part that was half Howard half James that knew he couldn't do it alone, he needed the Shamen's help.
Vince needed their help.
^(*)^
The door shrieked as it was pulled open. Vince cried out as light flooded into the room accompanying the screaming metal on stone. He held his hands up in front of his eyes, little flashing black dots decorating his vision as the only sound echoing in the darkness was the squeak of good leather boots on stone.
"Well, I have to admit, Noir, I never thought I'd say it, but you and Moon aren't completely worthless after all." Bainbridge sneered coming to a stop in front of Vince's cage. Vince blinked up at him and pulled his knees closer to his body in reflex. Even in the darkness he could see Bainbridge hadn't changed; his eyes were still small and sneering, framed with large eyebrows and his moustache bristled, important and proud on his upper lip, as impressive as ever.
"You led me on quite the chase! I thought an hour, maybe two –" he said, pointing down at Vince, "would be all you'd last before I had you back here, and Moon squealing like a pig. But no, you impress me, Noir. You've had me going for six months."
Vince simply blinked; he wasn't sure if Bainbridge was expecting him to say anything and he couldn't find the words anyway. He was cold, Bollo's absence was so pronounced, he shivered.
"But then again it was Naboo's work, wasn't it!" Bainbridge laughed.
"It's been easy enough! Spend six months searching for you and that little Shaman, and really all I had to do was hold out the bone, lure you two out into the open and it all came slotting into place. But you impressed me, Noir. Dragging that blundering buffoon around London for two days, keeping it all up after you'd already stumbled right into my set up. But I won out, I always do. Now, all I have to do is wait for that fool Naboo to exchange what I want for you and all this will be worth it, or even better, it's been quite a lot of fun."
"Glad you enjoyed it."
"Well, you enjoy parties, don't you Noir? I've got one for you now. You're the main guest; let me introduce you to your party guests, Noir. You've met before, of course," Bainbridge boomed and three figures appeared, one tiny, one weedy and one large shuffling figure. Vince looked up and frowned as they came closer.
"Alrigh' there Vince?" Lance Dior smirked, sparkling in the poor light in a shimmering green jacket; it was a pity, Vince thought, the jacket looked good. "I've been waiting for this, you know, getting what's mine, yeah? S'gonna be fun!"
"But not yet. See, Noir, Naboo has something I want, and he's going to give it to me. Or I'm going to give you back, bit by bit. I'm an honest man, I don't usually sneak around like this, but you started it. Naboo's got 'til ten o'clock to give it to me, or you'll get it, Noir. Let's hope Moon has more sense than anyone's given him credit for!" Bainbridge snickered. "Might make that little monkey Shaman see sense!
"After all, he finally managed it! Leaving you behind! Took him long enough, Noir! Never thought I'd give Moon an ounce of respect, but the way he handled it, from what that Baboon told me, Noir, he's not the pathetic stooge I took him for. He's got a peanut somewhere in that cranium of his. Blaming it on the Shaman, smart! Never thought I'd use that word, but then again, sometimes life surprises you. Some days you get lucky. You Noir, aren't going to get lucky. Once I've got confirmation about the Stone, Dior gets you to play with. That's a promise."
Vince stared, not really hearing anything beyond 'blaming it on the Shaman'. He could see Lance Dior standing behind Bainbridge, watching him with a sneering grin. Bainbridge was laughing, and behind them a small man in a turban was watching impassively. Vince shuddered.
"I don't believe you," he murmured, but something clicked into place as he said it. A horrible sinking feeling erupted through him.
"Doesn't matter to me, Noir. By the end of today you're going to be dead, Moon's going to be dead and I'm going to have some sort of unbeatable power. Or that's what this wizard's told me. Ciao." Lance loitered for a moment; as Vince listened to Bainbridge's squeaking leather boots leave the room. Every sound passed straight through him, he felt hollow, and didn't really hear Lance sneer.
"I'll be back to play, laters, Vincie. Oh great King of Camden."
Vince's lids rolled shut over dulled blue eyes and tears rolled out from under thick lashes as the memory slotted into place with horrible clarity.
"I'm just gonna go get a couple of things, yeah?" he grinned, or at least tried. He couldn't let Howard know just how scared he was. He was the sunshine kid; he never got scared, not anymore anyway. And if he did, he never told Howard.
Despite all his possessions he was only taking one box with him, only the important things. And this needed to be in it. He needed this. The photograph was under the lamp on his bedside table where it always was. Howard didn't know it was there. Howard didn't know much about anything in Vince's room.
He smiled as he pulled the photo out. Some random old man had taken it for him. He couldn't remember the day, only the feeling. That warm happy feeling in his gut he didn't feel much anymore.
Rolling the photo tight in his grasp Vince plastered his 'calm and collected' face on and bopped to his own beat back into the main room. Howard and Naboo were gone and his calm and collected face slipped for a moment until he heard their voices echoing from Naboo's room.
Confused, he moved quietly towards the door.
"- But we are friends, right Naboo?"
"Howard, I'm doing this to stop you getting killed, you muppet."
Vince peered around the corner; thankful the door was ajar and making sure to keep out of the way. Howard and Naboo were standing opposite each other at lengths across the room. Neither noticed he was there. Howard was silent and nervously shifting on the spot.
"What is it you want you batty crease?" Naboo asked, back turned to Howard as he toyed with something on his dresser. Howard was still watching the small shaman, twitching. He opened his mouth before shutting it quickly three times before he finally spoke. When he did Vince barely believed what he'd heard.
"IwantyoutosplitmeandVinceup."
Naboo turned around and waited for Howard to say more. Vince felt the air hitch in his throat. Had Howard really said that?
"Say it again, you Ballbag, and slowly." Howard took a long visible breath and fixed his eyes on the shaman.
"I want you to split us up."
This time there was no hiding what Howard had said. All the air seemed to disappear from Vince's lungs and he clung to the doorframe, listening to Naboo's voice as though he was far away. Howard wanted to leave. Wanted to leave him. Howard didn't want him any more.
"What? Why you muppet?"
"I, I cant do it any more, Naboo. I can't handle this anymore. All of it. I just – I need to get away, and this is the best thing to do. He won't even remember me, right? You said you'd make us forget. Make him forget! You can just make him forget me." Vince had to stop himself from crying out. How could it be possible to forget Howard? It's Naboo, though wasn't it? He could do anything.
"Its not that easy, Howard."
"Please, Naboo. I have to take this chance. It's too hard otherwise. I could never do it. But I have to. We've been together too long, and I can't stay. I don't want to remember leaving him. Please, Naboo." Vince closed his eyes, leaning against the wall beside the door, listening to Howard try and make Naboo understand. He, Vince, wasn't who Howard wanted to be with anymore. He wasn't enough. He was never enough, and now Howard wanted to leave him, too. Two lone tears spilled out from under his lashes and fell down his cheeks.
"Please."
The shaman frowned, fixing his gaze on Howard's desperate own.
"Please Naboo."
"I'll do what I must Howard." Naboo sighed, giving in. Vince waited. Half expecting a relieved sigh. It didn't come.
"Can you do something else, Naboo?" Howard's voice was soft this time. What was he thinking? What was he on? Vince waited, straining to hear every sound from the other room. Trying not to collapse in on himself, trying not to let Howard know just how much hearing this was breaking him apart. Try not to let Howard know at all.
"What?"
"Tell him it's your idea."
"Are you high?"
"I can't do it, Naboo! It'll just – I. I cant."
There was silence for a moment.
"On one condition, Howard."
"What? Tell me."
"You're the one who tells him you're being split up. Blame it on me, but you tell him." Vince's eyes sprang open. He couldn't believe it. Howard didn't even have the courage to tell him himself. His stomach suddenly became tight and anger bubbled, building and building.
Howard was a coward. Running away.
Howard was smart.
Vince pressed his hands to his eyelids, feeling tears welling up strong and the desire to cry and sob expelled that fuelling anger as he heard Naboo betray him with one word.
"Alright."
He was walking away from the door before he could think. Listening to everyone he loved betray him over and over again. He dropped the small photograph on the table haphazardly. It fell short of the box and he didn't really care at all.
"Vince!" Howard's voice, attempting to resume the panic of before, preceded the maverick and as he turned to face him, Vince silently thanked years of practice at hiding his real face as he plastered on his usual grin. Howard fell for it completely.
But all Vince could think of, as Howard tried to explain to him, dejectedly, that Naboo insisted they were to split up, was the betrayal behind those words.
He wasn't taking the box anymore.
Vince Noir was staying here completely.
A sob tore from Vince's lips as he dropped his head onto his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. The memory settled firmly in place. There was no confusion, no hesitance; it was real. Howard had left him; he could feel the same horrible disappointment, the same crushing fear in his gut as he had in those moments, listening to Howard and Naboo betray him, the pair of them abandoning him. They all did in the end. Eventually they all ran away from him, ran to bigger and better things; that was the way his world worked. After all these years he'd just hoped that Howard wouldn't realise he could do so much better, that he'd stay, and he had for years – but the same way he'd kept that tall maverick by his side had instead pushed him away by the end of had chosen to forget him rather than to stay, James had decided to run than to stick it out – in the end neither of them wanted him. Not the way he'd wanted them, Howard; the way that deep down he couldn't forget him. For all the heartbreak, for all Naboo's magic he'd still gone looking – Nate had still wound up in Leeds of all places, wandering, lost and confused and searching for what was missing. Maybe if Howard had been honest with him when he left they wouldn't be where they were. But for all his misgivings, Vince couldn't begrudge Howard anything, he couldn't regret it; he'd spent two days with Howard that otherwise they'd never have had, and if it came down to it, then that was something to die happy with.
The cold swirled around him as his body lost all tension, the chill clung to his arms through his jacket, pressing against the skin on his face and the strip of flesh bared at his back where his shirt and jacket round up and his jeans hung low. He shivered as a wracking sob escaped him; he was cold and alone and as tears spilled down his cheeks, Vince Noir gave up.
^(*)^
