Author's Note:Might continue Tuesday in the next chapter, probably have to, but I wanted to reward you all with two chapters :D

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mighty Boosh

Warnings: Language

A Rainy Tuesday

9:00am (Dalston, The Nabootique)

Surrounded by various boxes of sundry items, Naboo sighed heavily and turned to look at his gorilla familiar.

'How'm I supposed to lift all this?'

'Bollo help,'

9:00am (Dalston)

The rain was hammering on the roof tiles, pouring down in an endless stream. Staring down into his coffee cup with tired eyes, the steam warming his face, Howard remembered that Vince had once said it was like a thousand pixies all throwing tantrums and stomping about on the roof.

He chuckled at the memory, and Dixie, who had been moving about throwing things around behind him because she could find her bag, muttered that she didn't find anything funny.

You don't have to, Howard found himself thinking, it's none of your damn business actually.

He wished he could say it out loud.

9:00am (Manchester)

Vaguely hearing someone snapping at everyone to "get on the fuckin' bus!", his vision blurred as he stared through a coloured haze of smoke, Vince watched drowsily as his smothered thoughts personified themselves and staggered across the blackened room, a bright nymph with a torn wing, just like the one in his picture. It fell to its knees and stared up at him with pleading, crystalline eyes.

I've told you,

Vince told it in his mind, swatting a veil of smoke away from his vision,

No one can help us. You've lost your wings and now you're broken, just like me.

But it's alright for you, if people forget about you like a broken toy, and you can't take it anymore- you can just disappear.

But then I suppose I could too, if I really couldn't stand it...

'Vince! Wot's he starin' at! Vince! I wish you lot wouldn't smoke that shit when we're going on the fuckin' road! Oy Kaine, get 'im will ya?'

'But... maybe we should-'

'Kaine, you sh... Now!'

10:00am (Dalston)

They were going to Leeds next, Howard discovered. For obvious reasons, Leeds was somewhere he knew how to get to. Sighing and watching the endless rain out of the window, he knew that he couldn't just do a runner to Leeds after Vince. It wouldn't work like that, there was more to it then just arriving in Leeds, wasn't there?

And anyway, Vince would think he was insane. He could almost hear the younger man's words, loud and amused and filled with a cockney accent:

What the 'ell are you doin' 'ere! You came moochin' all the way up to Leeds to look for me, you banana? You don't need me now, Howard, you've got a girl!

But I don't want her; Howard thought solemnly, I want you...

10:15am (tour bus)

They were on the bus, on their way to Leeds and lost. Somehow the driver had managed to stray from the route.

Nowé flicked his shades up to glare, 'Idiot! There's somethin' wrong with him!'

Nods of agreement and angry voices volleyed across the bus.

Ignoring the row everyone was making and leaning his head against the headrest, watching droplets of rain chase one another down the windowpane, Vince had always thought it was impossible to think about nothing. Whenever he had tried, he had always ended up thinking about the fact that he was thinking about nothing, but now, he had discovered the trick to it.

First of all, you had to be only able to think about one thing. The subject had to be on your mind from the second you woke up till the moment you went to sleep.

Then, that thing had to hurt every time it crossed your mind, a harsh, gut wrenching pain that brought tears to your eyes.

And finally you had to endure that pain till the very last moment, to the point that you couldn't stand it anymore. And when you were too terrified to think, that was when you fought to think of nothing.

That was how Vince felt.

He felt as though he would die if he felt the pain of missing Howard anymore, so he did everything he could, fought desperately hard to slam the door to his own mind shut, even though an army of thoughts were pushing back against it.

3:15pm (Dalston)

Listening to Dixie yelling at him for ordering the stock to arrive at such a ridiculous time and several days late (this was not the case- he had said the day Dixie had instructed him to and requested it for 10:00am, but for some reason it had arrived at the very specific time of 3:15pm, on a Tuesday) Howard failed to see what he had seen in her in the first place. But she hadn't been like this; she'd been so nice...

Vince.

Lately Vince seemed to be the only one on his mind.