Hey all, sorry for the long absence. I'm back now though - hope someone is still reading!

Disclaimer - I don't own ...etc

Warning - this chapter contains mild violence and slash.

The curtains of the B and B had once been floral but were now faded and grimy. Howard whipped them across the window, shutting out the sunlight and painting the room in mute, sepia tones. He silently peered through a crack in the curtains for what seemed to Vince to be about an hour although was in reality more like ten minutes.

They had arrived there earlier that morning; Howard had driven through what was left of the night, his determined face streaked pink and gold with the rising sun. Vince wasn't sure where they were – he had fallen asleep shortly after he had deduced from the road signs that they were heading north. However, the sound of the seagulls and the blurred memories of the dirty exterior of the B & B, with its VACANCIES sign hanging crookedly in the window, neighboured by flashy arcades, that he had seen as Howard had dragged him, half asleep from the car to reception, made him sure that they were somewhere at the seaside. He hoped it was Blackpool: his Nan had taken him to Blackpool once when he was a kid, before she died.

After he had finally satisfied himself that no one outside looked suspicious, Howard sighed and moved away from the window, sitting down on the end of his narrow bed, wincing as he felt the springs move under his weight. A twin room. He couldn't help wondering what he would've chosen if he'd really been given the choice, away from the accusing stare of the fat man on reception, with his dirty vest and his cigarette dripping ash like autumn leaves down onto the wooden counter. He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like cuddling up to Vince in a big double bed, he'd probably be all sharp and angular, cold feet and elbows.

He knew he desperately needed some sleep but his mind wouldn't slow down, wouldn't stop racing. He thought back to the stop they'd made at the service station earlier.

Vince had gone off to the toilets while Howard had gone to the shop to get himself a cheap pay as you go mobile. It was only after he'd paid and was idling by the paperbacks, waiting for Vince that he saw the morning's papers. The headlines made him freeze, his heart in his mouth, "Fears grow for missing girl" "Police fear Hostage dead" "Bank Robbery Hostage still Missing". And under all of them, the same grainy blurred black and white still from the CCTV footage, Vince pressed up against him, the barrel of the gun at his temple. His head was bowed and his long dark hair had fallen slightly over one eye but it was unmistakeably him.

"Wotcha," all of a sudden, Vince was at his side.

"We've got to get out of here," Howard hissed as he grabbed Vince by the elbow and started steering him out of the shop. Vince glanced down comically at Howard's hand

"This is becoming a bit of a habit for you isn't it,"

"Shut up, didn't you see the papers?" By this time they were back at the car.

"You've got nothing to worry about, no one's gonna recognise you from that picture, your face was like a pink ball…."

Slowly, a quiet but repetitive noise seeped into his consciousness, the sound of scissors slicing through fabric or something. He gasped as he looked up and saw Vince sat in front of the mirror, calmly hacking at his hair with a small pair of scissors, clumps gathering on his shoulders and the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I saw the picture, just like you did; I can't carry on walking around looking like this. All you could really see of me was the hair so I thought it was best to just chop it off,"

"But…." Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and Howard was rendered speechless. With his hair shorter, Vince's cheekbones looked sharper, his eyes bigger and bluer, even under the bruises.

"Come here and help, I can't reach the back," Vince held out the scissors to Howard.

Reluctantly he got up and moved towards Vince, hating the magnetic pull that was dragging his feet towards where the boy sat. He took the scissors from him, trying to suppress the tremble in his fingers as they brushed Vince's. He took a handful of Vince's hair from the nape of his neck and forced the scissors through it, the silky locks coming away in his hand. As he reached for another handful his eyes met Vince's in the mirror as his fingertips lingered just a little too long, marvelling at the secret softness of the white skin at the back of Vince's neck. Vince seemed to shudder slightly, and then leaned into his hand, arching his shoulders in an almost feline manner. Without really realising it, Howard gave himself to the experience, forgetting the task he was supposed to be doing in favour of stroking Vince's neck, scratching lightly with his nails and experimentally sweeping his hand down inside his t-shirt. Suddenly Vince sniggered, the kind of arrogant laugh that set his teeth on edge and his eyes snapped back to the mirror. Vince was looking in the reflection, with archly raised eyebrows at the erection he was sporting. For a moment, Howard felt mortified and began mumbling about how it was just a human reaction Sir, nothing funny about it, before Vince, with swivelled round on the stool so he was facing him and looked up at him through his lashes, his hand on the waistband of his brown cords. For a moment, he stroked Howard through the fabric, before unzipping them and letting them fall to the ground, where they were swiftly followed by his pants. Howard groaned and let his head roll back as he felt the tip of a hot wet tongue run around the head of his penis. Just as his mind was clearing and heading towards oblivion, the little tosser had to spoil it all. He snorted a little, that same fucking arrogant laugh and said mockingly,

"I knew I could have you, get you like this I mean. I knew it from the first time I was in the car with you,"

Without waiting for a reply, he wrapped his lips around the older man's cock and starting sucking, but for Howard, rage overtook his lust. How dare that...wanker...fuck with him. Leading him on and getting him worked up like it was some kind of game. He wasn't normally a violent or hot tempered man unless he had to be but he forgot that fact as he grabbed the back of the boy's head by the long hair he still had and forced himself deep into the boy's mouth, relishing the sound of his gagging. He looked down and found that the boy's eyes staring back up at him, now terrified and tearful, gave him almost immeasurable pleasure.

"You still don't get it do you, that you're in out of your depth. That I could kill you in a heartbeat. You fucking prick,"

He thrust into him again and again, roughly, deeply, using his hand to keep the boy's head in place as white hot rage flashed through his entire body like lightening. He was shaking with it. His eyes were closed but it didn't stop the images whirling around in his consciousness, faster and dizzyingly faster: His house burning to the ground; the security guard with his face all blown apart; Jim dead; Jackie dead; other memories – older, darker things that he couldn't even acknowledge to himself; the two thugs he had seen by his house; the boy laughing at him. His anger and his arousal seemed to be like gasoline and a flame, one spurring the other on. With a gasp, he withdrew sharply and came in long white spurts all over the boy's whimpering pathetic face. Without a word, he pulled his clothes back into as the boy sat silently, head bowed. It was only after a few seconds, as the euphoria of his orgasm, and the red mist of his rage began to fade that the first pangs of panicky guilt set in.

"Look at me," There was nothing. It was as though Vince hadn't heard him.

"Look at me, you little shit,"

When Vince raised his head, the set of his face was almost triumphant, his eyes glazed with lust. He was grinning and panting slightly. It was only then that Howard realised with horror that Vince had actually liked it, liked him completely losing it, that he had given him exactly what he wanted. Vince licked his lips with a salaciousness that made him feel sad and sickened at the same time. Not able to bear being in the same room as him for another second he turned to walk out the door of the hotel room,

"Clean yourself up, look at the state of you," he muttered disgustedly before letting the door slam behind him.

The wind outside was colder than he had expected, a thin drizzle blowing off the sea, chilling him to the bone and making him long for the coat he had left in the hotel room. When he thought back to what had just happened he had to bite back bile at the awfulness of it. What had come over him? He had heard some of his acquaintances (he refused to acknowledge them as friends) boasting about what they had done to girls, prostitutes mainly, but he had always felt himself to be way above those animals. Until now.

Needing to dull the feeling of shame and revulsion, he wandered, almost without thinking, into a grotty corner shop, its gaudy neon signs proclaiming cheap booze shining bravely in the grey afternoon. Howard bought a couple of bottles of cheap wine and sat on the deserted shingle beach and drank one of them. After a while his face felt numb from the cold and he couldn't tell if the salty droplets on his face were tears or splashes from the iron grey waves that were relentlessly pounding the rocks in front of him. He wasn't like them, really he wasn't. It was just Vince was so infuriating. It was almost like he did it on purpose. God he wanted to shake the kid until his teeth rattled. Everything had gone wrong since he had appeared on the scene like a fucking bad penny. He resented that jumped up Camden tart with a ferocity that scared him almost as much as the other thing that was always there, just under the surface whenever he was with him. He allowed himself a few minutes of luxuriating in the gorgeous misery of it all before dragging himself reluctantly up and back towards the hotel before the feeling of futility overtook him completely.

Howard had barely got in the door when Vince flew at him, tears streaming down his pale face, his arms flailing.

"You bastard!" He screeched, getting in a few slaps to Howard's face before the older man managed to grab his wrists and restrain him.

Vince struggled for a few minutes before collapsing against his chest, "I thought you weren't coming back, I thought you'd left me here," he murmured weakly into Howard's shirt. He had only been gone a couple of hours but Vince seemed to have completely unravelled in that time.

Howard was shocked. "I didn't think you'd ever want to see me again,"

"Why?" Vince asked, seemingly having forgotten the incident earlier, before his face coloured, the blush blooming across his pale face, "I didn't mind that," he said, a note of uncharacteristic shyness creeping into his voice, "I mean, if that's what you like?" he looked up at Howard uncertainly and everything Howard thought he knew about the boy shifted a little, for what felt like the hundredth time.

He dropped the boy's hands and took a step back, sinking onto the bed. The boy was obviously craving reassurance – praise even – but Howard couldn't think of anything positive to say about what had happened before. That boy had obviously gone wrong if he was prepared to tolerate being treated like that, to enjoy it. He reached down into the crumpled carrier bag for the second bottle of wine and took a deep draught from it, needing the alcohol burn in his throat, before answering

"No of course that's not what I like. What sort of man do you think I am?" He paused for a moment, a moment that seemed to stretch on eternally as Vince failed to come up with any sort of an answer, seemingly waiting for more. "Listen, I'm sorry, it's just you get me so..." he tried to fill the void in his words with a vague wave of his hands.

"If you hate being with me so much then why don't you just go back?" The look of the innocent boy, keen for approval was swiftly replaced by sullenness.

"There's nothing back there for me any more. Everything I had has gone up in smoke. My whole life was in that house. Almost," He finished quietly, not looking up.

"Oh stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself, Mister Mansion in the country," Vince countered, his voice raised defiantly as he strode across the tiny room, "I never had anything to lose in the first place. Nothing that was worth anything. So I reckon that's worse don't you?"

Almost too late, he seemed to catch the meaning of Howard's last word, and the wind was taken out of his sails. He sat down on the bed next to Howard, "Not til now," the challenge gone, now more of a plea.

Timidly, the bigger man looked him in the eye and between them something passed wordlessly: 'All I've ever had is you,' said one; 'I'm scared by how much I already need you,' answered the other, merely by the meeting of their eyes. The atmosphere was electric for a moment and then was snuffed out to nothing by a creak on the stairs with a swiftness that almost hurt and left them both wondering if they imagined it.

Vince cleared his throat awkwardly, "So, er, what went so wrong then, do you reckon? Or are you always that shit at robbing banks?"

Howard leaned back on the thin square of foam that passed as a pillow in this hotel and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, squeezing his eyes shut, mustering the courage to say the words that would make the collapse of his life complete,

"I'm in big trouble. Really big trouble and I didn't even know it until, well, until it was far too late. In the business I'm in you never trust anyone – criminals against criminals. That's the rule. More nowadays than it used to be. These young guys don't understand the old ways. But when I did that job yesterday" (was it really only yesterday, he marvelled) "I was working for someone who I trusted. One of the guys from way back, who understood the code. In a lot of ways he was like a father to me. He was there for me when...when..."

For a moment it looked to Vince like he was lost, drowning in the enormity of what he was trying to say and he longed to throw him the life raft of a cheeky comment or some kind of prompt to get him back on track but he decided, as he did on rare occasions, to keep his mouth closed. Instead he just took a drink from the wine bottle as though nothing was amiss and presently Howard continued,

"...well he's helped me out a lot anyway. That was why I took the job working for him. I don't do a lot any more, don't need to. And besides, the thrill was wearing off; it was all getting very old. But anyway, he came looking for me especially, which isn't easy – I keep myself very well hidden – and I couldn't say no, didn't want to say no. Even after all these years I wanted to please him, wanted him to say 'well done my boy'" Howard approximated a rasping cockney accent that made Vince snap to attention,

"The man that done me over?"

Howard's bitter smile answered him immediately "One and the same. The Hitcher, he's known as. He had another name once but he's made sure it got lost and forgotten. It's better that way. Almost no one knows my real name, apart from him,"

"And me," piped in Vince with a hint of pride in his voice, making Howard blush at the implied intimateness of it,

"Well yes, but that was an accident. Anyway, I took this job and from the start it didn't go right. Things shouldn't go wrong, not when they're planned by an old master like the Hitcher. Maybe with these kids but not with him...but anyway, because I trusted him, I carried on, I ignored the feeling that something was wrong and just ploughed on. And the worst thing was I didn't even know it the whole way through. Even after he came to yours I didn't want to believe it – when it was as clear as day! I've been such a fool!" he ran his hands through his fine hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions and Vince's fingers itched to reach out and smooth it down.

"It wasn't until I got back to my house and saw those two guys – they worked for him, you see, I've seen them at meetings I've had with him. I've never met them directly but they were always there in the background. They did a lot of what he called his 'dirty work',"

"Like burning down houses?"

"And worse. Once he found out from my mobile where I lived he must've just sent those two round to make sure I was eliminated"

At this, Vince's eyes widened, "So it was my fault?"

Howard laid a reassuring hand on the boy's slender forearm,

"No, not at all. It was my own fault for leaving the house; I knew it was stupid when I was doing it. I was safe there you see, no one knew where I lived. But to meet you in the pub – madness. You didn't know anything of what was going on when you asked to meet me, I should've said no. Totally my own fault, I got spotted there by someone who knew that The Hitcher was after me and tipped him off. He must've been surprised I got back from the job at all...The moment I walked into the bank and saw all the civilians, alarm bells started ringing. He'd promised the palce would be empty, see - and if I had been working for anyone else I would've got the hell out of there...but I couldn't believe...not him...and I wanted to please him...after all these years."

Vince didn't understand everything, couldn't see what was going through Howard's head in the long pauses where he wasn't speaking but he knew enough,

"So he set you up?"

"It would seem that way. One way or another I wasn't supposed to come out of that job alive. Either prison or death seemed the more likely outcomes –"

"Well he didn't bank on me did he,"

Howard shot Vince a warning look, "Vince, don't think you can get mixed up in this – he's a big man, a dangerous man, and you're only a..."

"Little man?" Vince offered helpfully, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a shy grin. Howard smiled back almost playfully, his troubles forgotten for a moment,

"Yes – little man," he repeated fondly.

Later that night when the darkness had really set in and the wine was all gone, Vince wriggled his way into the crook of Howard's armpit as he lay with his hands behind his head on the single bed,

"So what are you going to do now?"

"There's only one thing I can do," Howard sighed, "I've got to find the Hitcher."