A/N: Thank you reviewers so much for all the feedback and devotion! You certainly make the writing process even more rewarding.

The title of this chapter comes from 'Ashamed' by Deer Tick. I strongly suggest that those unfamiliar with this song listen to it; not only is it gorgeous, but the lyrics perfectly capture the mindset of Vince in this fic. (And did I mention that it's gorgeous?)

ELEVEN

I'm Standing on Trial & It's Painted on Canvas

Vince Noir stretched his arms out as he awakened that morning, to encircle one of his pale limbs around the anonymous woman whose bleach-blonde head was seeking rest upon his chest. Well, anonymous wasn't the right word. He could've sworn her name was Jane. Or Jen. Or Janice. There was definitely a J and an N involved somewhere in the equation. Ah, well. No matter. Vince and the J-woman were currently sprawled out amidst a pile of thin blankets on the uncomfortable floor of Leroy's flat. The owner of the dwelling was only a few feet from them with an equally attractive but forgettable woman curled up against his side.

Vince smiled, quite genuinely, as he looked at his surroundings. He couldn't remember much of the previous night. He'd drank like a goldfish, and Leroy had definitely slipped a few things in whatever liquids he'd downed. It was all to help Vince "down his natural road to happiness"- or whatever hippie bullshit he'd coughed up at the time- and it had worked. Vince hadn't thought of Howard or Gideon or anyone else but himself all night. But now it was morning, and he needed to stop thinking before his simple train of thought left the station without him.

He stared with interest at the many plastic cups strewn about the room, and picked up the one nearest to him. After examining its questionable contents half-heartedly, Vince shrugged and drank it all back with impressive speed. He threw the cup back amongst the others and tried to cozy himself into sleep. Whatever he'd imbibed would surely be coursing its way through his system by the time he'd awaken.

Just as he was nodding off, however, that cursed phone of his decided to blare its loathsome electro anthem. "Shit!" Vince frantically felt around for the device with his free arm in a desperate attempt to silence it and keep everyone unconscious, but it was far too loud and abrasive a song for that. His three companions were already stirring, and as soon as they were awake, the ringing ceased.

"Fuckin' 'ell, Vince," came the groggy voice of the woman beside him. "Ain't you ever hearda silent mode?"

He laughed apologetically and convinced them all to get back to sleep; but once his advice had been taken, the dreaded ringtone sounded again.

"Christ al-fuckin'-mighty!" cried the J-woman. She lifted herself off of Vince's chest and grabbed his phone from the couch behind them. "Second ring, and for a bleedin' voicemail," she announced as she checked the screen. "As if that's worth it."

"Oi, Janine," called Leroy, still lying down. "Who's it from?"

"Some… Howard bloke," she answered confusedly. "Howard? Ain't that a bit of an old geezer's name?"

Vince smiled outwardly, and searched around for another cup near him with something still in it. He let out a sigh of relief as he found one, and chugged its contents without so much as a first glance.

"Toss it over here," said Leroy, now sitting up with his woman.

"No, really, Leroy, let's not bother," protested Vince, trying to lighten his objection with a barely believable chuckle.

Janine looked between the two men for a few moments, but eventually threw the phone to the one further from her. Leroy placed the device up to his ear, and then glanced down, on cue from the robotic Woman of Voicemails. "Vince, what's your passcode?"

"Leroy, really-"

"Howard?" interrupted the still unnamed woman. "Ain't that the guy who works down in the shop with you? The really weird one, with the shifty eyes?"

"Yeah, that's 'im. Leroy, please-"

"I'm in!" he interjected. "You might wanna think of a less obvious passcode, mate." Leroy said this with a very condescending, disappointed look; it didn't take long to figure out the code would be the numerical value of Howard's birthday.

"Put it on speaker," ordered Janine. "Whatever this one's gonna say has gotta be a right laugh."

Vince stared at Leroy with wide eyes, silently begging him not to do so. The last thing he needed was to have these two women hearing Howard's constant worrying. Leroy ignored Vince, though, and very rebelliously pressed the speakerphone key.

"Alright, Vince," sounded the voice of a seemingly rushed Howard. The man at whom this message was directed waited with bated breath, as if expecting to receive news of the end of the world, and hoped Janine couldn't feel him lightly sweating.

"I'm gonna say this quick, before I lose my nerve as per usual. I'm a complete tit-trap. What you said Saturday at Farnaby's was 100% correct. I do fancy you. I always have. It goes beyond that, really. I love you. I'm in love with you. I don't know what exactly I'm expecting to achieve by telling you this- maybe that you'll come home- but I thought you deserved to know. I've been going through hell here and I have a whole lot more to tell you, but… I couldn't keep this particular bit in any longer. I love you. Erm… bye."

Vince stared slack jawed at the tiny electronic device within Leroy's hand. The universe had definitely stopped, if only for a minute. Of all the things he'd expected that voicemail to say, a declaration of love was certainly not among them. The universal pause abruptly ended, though, with the horribly mocking cachinnation from the two girls and somehow masculine giggling from Leroy.

"What… the fuck was that about?" Janine asked when she was able to compose herself.

Vince made a big production out of shrugging and looking clueless. "No idea," he said. "Must be pissed."

"Ol' Howard's a drinker, is he?" inquired the other woman, sounding impressed.

"Oh yeah," continued Vince. "Big drinker. Always gets a bit overly affectionate when he's pissed. Ain't nothin' unusual."

Leroy shot him a glare nearly dripping with skepticism and scorn before tossing his phone back to him. "Know what'd be well funny?" he asked.

"What?" replied Vince through gritted teeth.

"If you phoned him back right now."

Those seven words were like a starter pistol to the painfully vacuous women they were with. "Oh, come on, Vince, do it!" pleaded Janine. "You could always put 'im on with me. Bet he's never been rung up by a real woman before."

Vince looked nervously down at his phone. Maybe it was whatever potent poison he'd drank down, or maybe it was his irrational need to please that caused him to call Howard, the first contact on his speed dial. Whatever the motive, he did it. But he made sure to take off speakerphone.

"Vince?" was the urgent answer on the other end.

"Alright, Howard?"

"You… you got my message, then?"

"Yeah, I… I got it."

Vince looked around the room nervously as silence hung between him and the man on the opposite phone line. The unnamed woman broke the lull in conversation by crying out, "Ask 'im if he's pissed! An' if he is, see if he'll join us, cuz that'd be a right laugh."

"Who's that?" Howard asked.

"'Just… forget about that," Vince replied, anxious laughter hitching up into his voice.

"Awww, Vincey, did he propose?" teased Janine, throwing her still intoxicated arms around his bare shoulders.

"Are you with someone, Vince? And… did… did she…"

Vince didn't get to hear the end of that question, as Janine stole his phone from him and supplied her own colorful commentary. "Yeah, Howard, is it? M'names Janine. Where's Vince?" She laughed, and then continued. "He's at his best mate's. Spent the whole night shaggin' the life outta me. Make ya jealous, does it?" She handed the device over to the man beside her with a cackle and announced, "He cut you off."

"What'd he say?" asked Vince, beginning to feel the effects of the enigmatic drugs he'd previously taken within the confines of equally enigmatic beverages. They weren't making him happy or forgetful or tired. He was just dazed and very inattentive, and was beginning to hallucinate. That, coupled with the preceding, unforgivably allowed abuse of his love, left him feeling impossibly empty and scared.

Janine shrugged casually as Leroy and the other woman began to go at it again. "Jus' stammered, mostly."

Vince fell silent, escaping the pain this would've undoubtedly caused him by focusing on how unreal everything seemed. The outlines of bodies and objects appeared hazy. Colors blended together, spun around and projected fearful images, making it all too easy not to focus on the terrible woman next to him. His blue eyes darkened as they stared intently at the air, in which imaginary butterflies began having their wings torn off, sending them plummeting to their deaths; his ears roared as Howard's name rushed into them from no one in particular; his entire body felt as if it were shaking, although in reality he was motionless. In this mentally and emotionally disheveled state, he couldn't at first feel Janine's physical advances toward him, nor did he have the strength or concentration to fight them off when he did.

Across town, Howard Moon stared fixedly at his possessed work of art.