Author's Note: I wrote about four chapters today so am looking over them and uploading. Hope people are still enjoying it. Ta.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mighty Boosh. Sad, I know.

It had been, for Vince, just like old times, the old team back together. Well, him and Howard and their female doppelgängers. He'd hired Ami because she made tweed look cute and spoke with a Northern accent. She was a girl Howard and for a moment Vince wondered why he hadn't ever fancied her. Blanche on the other hand was a little girl version of her daddy.

Together they'd plotted out Vince's farewell from his Lonely Angel persona and, possibly, his modeling career. He was going to be embarrassing and sweet and smiley in public. He was going to go out with his best mate and his daughter and smile and shop and be the opposite of everything he had been for the last two years.

Ami would be there to make sure everything went off without a hitch and was currently pacing around the lounge room with her phone, giving tip-offs to the tabloids that the rumours about Vince Noir just might be true and that he'd be out on the Rue Saint-Honoré around three p.m. Howard was preparing lunch in the kitchen, humming some jazzy number and smug as a spider monkey because Blanche was somehow humming along and dancing a bit in her seat. She was also drawing on the spare sheets of paper left over from Howard and Ami's stationary enthusiasm. Her picture looked uncannily like a pink pony in genius boots and Vince was starting to think that his daughter was genuinely a child genius.

Howard had made a passing comment about the fact that Vince seemed to have missed breakfast so would need extra lunch. Vince had slipped away, feeling a little ill at the thought of meat and cheese and bread and having to eat it all under the tiny watchful eyes of Howard. Yes, Jaquettie had made his life pretty miserable but he'd been right about Vince's weight. He'd always struggled with his size: his chicken drummer legs, his pumpkin ass. It had been bad enough when he was back in Dalston but in Paris he felt the need to look perfect. And perfect was thin.

He knew there something wrong in his brain space as he thought that. The need to be skinny and perfect was how it had started. It had developed into a paranoia about being dropped by Jaquettie and rejected by the rich, famous and fashionable. Now it was about having something in his life that he had control over, that and a palpable fear of fat.

He knew that if he was going to make a statement by sticking two fingers up at Jaquettie then he should probably make a statement by going back to a healthy weight. He did miss some foods, but the though of putting a sandwich in his mouth made him gag. It was just too much. He'd have to start slow and work his way up. Maybe he could start with a salad at lunch instead of nothing and then slowly work his way back to things like cheese and bread. He was a dad now, after all. He had to set a healthy example for Blanche.

Vince sighed and wondered at how he'd managed to grow up so much in just twenty four hours. Having a kid was hard work.

He'd taken the clothes Ami had brought around for Blanche and had hidden himself away in the spare bedroom which also doubled as his sewing room. The clothes weren't too bad, Ami's partner worked in Catimini after all, but they were a couple of years old and he still wanted to add a few Vince Noir touches. He had an outfit for himself in mind and wanted Blanche's to match. Well, not entirely. Not like a pair of really mismatched identical twins. He just wanted there to be a connection, a tie in, a bit of flair that would show the world that Blanche was his daughter and he was proud to be a daddy.

He set to work with a needle and thread, sequins, some pink scraps, studs and a hot glue gun and didn't reemerge until Howard called out that lunch was ready.

Blanche's little gasp at the sight of the clothes her daddy had customized for her was, like her face, priceless. She took in the pink trims and the glints of reflected light off the sequins and seemed utterly enthralled. Vince was going to love taking her out shopping. He reckoned she'd be a natural at that, too.

"What do you reckon, sweetie?" he said, laying the clothes out in front of her.

"Genius," she whispered and Vince hugged her so tight she squealed.

As they sat down to eat Ami cleared her throat nervously. She was still finding things a bit strange. In the last year and a half she had been the closest thing Vince had had to a friend but it had still been a professional relationship. Now she was being treated like family and Vince could recognise some Howardish nervousness about her at the change.

"Mr Noir?" she asked and Vince rolled his eyes.

"You can call me Vince now, Ami. It's ok." She smiled and started again and Vince was pleased at how well she'd accepted his true personality.

"Well, Vince. I've been thinking. I know that you want to make a statement and separate yourself from Monsieur Jaquettie and I understand why, I think. But why are you so sure that this is going to end your career? I'm certain it's too late for Jaquettie to pull the show on Friday. People are turning up to see your designs as much as his, you know. Why do you think you won't be able to continue as a designer?"

Vince didn't really have a proper answer to that. He'd been told so many times that he wasn't ready to be a designer in his own right, that he had so much to learn, that he wasn't really good enough. Even the compliments had seemed to imply that Jaquettie was indulging him but that he wasn't good enough to take his ideas elsewhere.

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do. I've been thinking it over, and I do."

Howard snorted and Vince immediately felt himself getting defensive. Was Howard mocking him? He hadn't even seen his designs, how dare he!

But one look at Howard's face told him he needn't have bothered. Howard was looking at him with a huge amount of affection. It was a little overwhelming actually and made him feel a little giddy.

"Vince, you plum. Of course your designs are good enough." He chuckled and Vince glared.

"How do you know?" Howard just continued chuckling. "Stop laughing at me! You haven't seen my stuff. You don't even like fashion. How can you-"

"Vince, you've been designing and making your own clothes since you were twelve. You love your sewing machine nearly as much as your hair straighteners. Anything you've designed is going to turn out brilliantly. If Jaquettie has made you believe otherwise then he's a major idiot. And so are you."

Vince gaped. Ami gaped. Blanche shoved another sandwich into her mouth.

Had Howard really just told him he was good at something? Howard never did that. Howard never complimented his outfits. Well, there was that one time, but he was pretty sure that saying he looked like a futuristic prostitute wasn't actually a compliment. He'd only said thank you because he wanted his approval so desperately.

"But Howard-"

"No buts, little man," Howard told him firmly. "I'm all for giving Old Jaquettie the two fingers, but that doesn't mean you should give up your dream. We can give your drawings to some fashion designers in England maybe, or try our luck here in Paris. Jaquettie's not the only designer in this city."

Vince sighed. A day ago he would have done whatever he'd needed to in order to stay in this game. Now he wasn't so sure he wanted to, not if it meant pretending to be something he really wasn't. Playing a character had been fine when it'd been just him but now that he had Blanche (And possibly Howard) in his life he didn't want to be anyone but himself. And he wasn't sure if being himself would be good enough. And then there was the wrath of Jaquettie to consider.

"Howard," he tried to sound calm and mature. "That's really sweet and all but when Jaquettie finds out about what I'm doing today, that I'm breaking the persona he build for me, he ain't just going to fire me, he's going to bad mouth me to every designer he knows. No one's going to want to work with me once he's chewed me out. I'm not being defeatist or nothing, just realistic. And now that I've got you, I mean Blanche, now I've got Blanche," phew that was close! "I don't mind so much. I don't really want to go back to working in the Nabootique but maybe I can start up my own shop or something. I dunno. I'm not much good at finances or organising and that but," he took a shaky breath. "But, maybe if you were there to help me, I could make it work?"

Howard was gaping and Vince started to panic. He hadn't really thought this idea through in much detail. What if Howard turned him down? He started to get lost in his thoughts but stopped himself because Howard was opening his mouth and whatever he said now, Vince got the feeling it would be important.

"Vince, I- I'd follow you anywhere. Whatever you want to do, we'll do it. You and me."

The silence in the room was deafening. Vince didn't know what to say. He knew he loved Howard. He wasn't quite sure how he loved Howard but he knew that he loved him a whole lot and what Howard had just said, that sounded a whole lot like a confession of love. He had to say something. He had to make sure that what they had, their friendship, their HowardandVince existence, whatever it was, would be ok. They'd both thrown it away before and the bitterness and misunderstandings had nearly destroyed them.

But what could he say? What could he possibly say that would make Howard take him seriously? What-

"I love you!"

Where had that come from?! He hadn't meant to say that. Vince considered the possible ways he might be able to give his brain cell a slap for making him say that. Even if it was true, it was more likely to make Howard take a leap out of the window than take him seriously.

Vince was well and truly on his way to a panic attack now. They didn't happen often anymore but every now and then he needed to run off and retrieve his doll and sit quietly in a corner. He wasn't sure he could get away with that right now but if he couldn't then he really needed to go and empty his stomach of it's measly lunch.

He chanced a look up at Howard but couldn't read his expression. This had all gone wrong, it was all just-

"Well that's a relief," Howard said, letting his arm stretch out across the table so his hand could take hold of Vince's.

"What?"