Vince cried quietly into his daughter's hair. This was wrong. He'd gone wrong. He never cried. Well, there was that one time, when he'd been feverish from the rogue jazz cell poisoning his body and Bollo had told him that Jagger had put on weight. But he'd been out of it then and had been pretty messed up from other things too. He didn't cry normally. That was Howard's shtick, not his. When things got bad he just swore his tits off.

So why was he suddenly such a mess?

It probably had a lot to do with the sudden appearance of a daughter in his life. Naboo would tell him the situation was releasing old memories and that he needed to deal with them before he could move on properly. Or something like that.

But he reckoned it was more than that. He'd been on edge for a while and now he was finally cracking, like an egg that'd been jostled around in its carton for too long. He was cracking and all his yolk was going to escape.

Well... maybe not that, but the metaphor was still a good one.

Blanche was holding on to him so tight he could feel her arm bones digging into his rib bones. He could also feel a spreading wet patch on his t-shirt and knew that she was crying too.

What a pair they made. But he was supposed to be the grown-up. He should be comforting her, not crying and ruining her gorgeous hair with salty tears. She was only three years old after all. Vince had worked really hard at figuring out Blanche's age and thought that she was about three and a half. He hated to think about what her first three and a half years had been like. He had a lot of time to make up for.

But he also had another rather big and immediate problem. Jaquettie.

The man had basically said that he would drop Vince if he found out about his daughter. Vince would go back to being a nobody. He would be ok financially, he'd put money aside with Ami's help. But the dream would be over. He'd have failed. There would be no more bright lights or costumes. He would have failed his mother.

Except, hadn't he just about failed already?

His mum had told him to never lose the magic but the magic had all but evaporated from his life. What were costumes and adulation without magic? And without people to share it with?

Vince kissed Blanche on her blonde little head. She was so kissable. So cuddly. Vince just couldn't get enough of her affectionate nature. He'd never seemed to get as many hugs as he wanted and he didn't want her to ever feel like she wasn't getting her cuddle quota. It just felt too nice.

He'd stopped crying and was actually smiling comfortably. He'd been a little worried that his smiling muscles might have withered from lack of use but they seemed to be coping alright. He should pace himself though, so he didn't strain anything.

Blanche seemed to have stopped crying too and was humming one of her little tunes again. It was hypnotizing and Vince suddenly felt a light go on in his head (thanks to his brain cell flicking on a torch to try and get the message across, but Vince wasn't to know that).

Why had he been so bothered? He'd been miserable this year. Even while he was planning the show and seeing his designs come to life in silk and sequins, he'd been miserable. And he thought he was just going to be miserable forever, he'd gotten used to the idea, like you get used to a new hair colour. And then in one day it was like he'd found himself again. Howard had arrived and suddenly he wasn't miserable anymore. He'd met his little girl and suddenly he was Vince again.

Screw the fashion industry. Screw Jaquettie. He didn't need glamour and fame, he had a family. Well, he had a daughter. And Howard.

Vince frowned, even though he knew it'd probably give him wrinkles.

The whole Howard thing was confusing. When he'd been a kid Howard had been his rock. He made life in the foster home bearable. When he'd been a teenager Vince had worshiped Howard and had gone to Monkey Hell and back for him. When the zoo had closed and they'd gone back to finish school and travel around and have a go at college, Vince had realised that he and Howard were actually equals. He wasn't just Howard's sidekick. They were friends. That had been a big moment for Vince. It was also at about that time that he'd realised that he didn't want to be away from Howard. Ever.

And for years he hadn't had to. They'd clung to each other, through all the crummy jobs and rubbish gigs. Even when they were bickering and teasing, they'd been there for each other. But then things had gone bad. It had really kicked off after the incident with Madeline and the punk band and then suddenly Vince was inadvertently selling Howard out for a cape and Howard was threatening to turn his back on him. Vince had tried to fix things but that hadn't worked out either. He'd thought up a genius present for Howard's birthday ('cos you're never too old for a bouncy castle), but it'd arrived late. He'd set up one of the hottest parties just for Howard but had gone and ruined it by being vain and self-centered. Then he'd gone and ruined his best mate's first kiss. By being his best mate's first kiss.

Things had got well weird after that.

Vince had even tried to tone down his look, going for black drainpipes and shirts, without quite knowing why. Did he want to make himself more or less noticeable to Howard? Or more or less attractive? It was all so confusing.

He'd tried to be nice to Howard again, letting him show off his poncey acting in his Electro Circus. That had been a mistake. Howard had been spotted by that weird Jurgen geezer and whisked off to Europe. Vince had been devastated but hadn't been able to show it. He knew that Howard leaving had been his fault. He'd made Naboo hire the first person to walk through the shop door who'd had a northern accent and then had basically forced the guy to grow a moustache.

Howard leaving him had hurt and by the time he came back Vince was feeling too bitter about it all to even get excited. He'd been scouted by Jaquettie three months later and had considered it payback.

But now...

He loved being with Howard.

He needed Howard.

If he was honest with himself he just plain loved Howard. More than fashion and music and sweets and his hair. He loved Howard as much as he loved his rag doll. The doll sleeping in his top drawer with his socks. The doll that was all he had left of his mum. A doll that meant love and safety. Like Howard.

He wasn't sure of the mechanics of loving Howard. He found Howard attractive and he wanted to be with him and cuddle him and all that. He'd quite like to kiss him again too. But he was pretty sure that Howard wouldn't be up for an actual relationship. He practically turned into a pomegranate whenever Vince made a joke about bumming. Yeah, he was pretty sure Howard wouldn't be up for that. But if he was...

Genius.

... What had he been thinking about again?

Oh, yeah. Screw Jaquettie.

He climbed awkwardly to his feet while still holding Blanche in his arms, making lots of theatrical grunts and groans as he did so and being rewarded by another perfect tinkling giggle from Blanche.

He swapped her to his hip as they headed into the kitchen where Howard and Ami were looking down at a blank piece of paper with matching intense expressions.

"Alright, team," he announced, grinning when they both jumped. Ami blinked. She'd probably never seen him smile like this. Well, she and the rest of Paris would be getting well acquainted with this grin. He had a plan forming and he hadn't even needed a plan pony to help him.

"Alright team. If this is it, if this the end, then by Jagger I'm going out with a bang!"