BEEPBOOP: Hope no one had issues with the damn album thingy, cause I sure did O_o making that stupid thing was hell. Anyway, enjoy. It's rather short, but trust me when I say these chapters will get much longer.)

Chapter 6

Howard visited Vince every single day after school, and on the weekends he simply spent the entire day there, bringing with him various jazz magazines, which Vince would winge and fake-vomit over, which in turn caused Howard to get slightly cross and offended and finally just up and tell Vince that if he was enjoying his company that little then he had better ways to spend his time! The look on Vince's face as he made to leave the room halted both Howard's steps and his heartbeat. Sighing, he sat back down in his chair, and an awkward silence enveloped them for the rest of the visit. It was soon pushed aside and forgotten by the next day, however.

A little over a week into Vince's stay at the Medical Centre, Howard came through the room door to see Vince holding a chart, like the ones outside each patients' rooms. His own chart, most likely. Howard wouldn't put it past the kid to knick his or even other patients' charts out of boredom, though how he'd managed it with being bed-bound, Howard was puzzled over. Sitting down in the now familiar chair, the teenager sat in silence, watching the kid's eyes flick about over the chart for several minutes. His face was unreadable, and Howard leaned forward slightly to catch a glimpse of what had the boy's attention so captured. Vince however tilted the chart away from Howard, who leaned further, aggravated now. Vince, still staring at the chart, but now with a small smirk, tilted the chart further to the side. Howard began to lean further, then realised how childish he must look, practically laid out across the bed, and quickly straightened up in his chair. Vince smiled up at him, finally making eye contact.

"What's your blood-type?"

That question took Howard less than a second to answer. The day after his seventeenth birthday his mother took him and herself to donate their blood at the health centre in Leeds. Howard remembered how he had sweated so heavily his clothing stuck to the medical chair when he was finally allowed to rise. It's not that he was afraid of needles. It's just that what that woman had used on him was clearly not a simple needle. A dagger, more like! He swore up and down that he heard a metallic noise like that of an unsheathing sword when the lady uncapped the thing! His mother, on the car-ride home, told Howard both of their blood-types. Howard, though practically seeing stars and leant up against the passenger window, recalled what his was.

"It's type A."

Vince broke out into a wide grin, voice rising, "That's mine too!"

Howard smiled back at the kid as he shifted about in his bed out of pure happiness at this newfound knowledge.

'Figures.'

"It's like we're related. Like brothers." That smile was beginning to rival the brightness of the lightbulbs above them.

"Yeah, except not really, because we don't share the same genetics." Howard couldn't help but point out.

'Heaven forbid I be blood-related to this headcase.'

Howard's words had no effect on Vince, who continued to smile up at him, setting the chart front-down on his bedside table. Curiosity surged strongly through Howard, wondering why Vince didn't appear to want him to read the chart. He shrugged off the suspicion after a moment; it's just the kid, he's doing weird things like that all the time.

Besides, Howard planned on asking Vince about his parents, or lack thereof. No, that sounded awful. Truth be told, Howard had been putting this off. He really couldn't handle another water display from Vince. Not for at least ten years. But he couldn't fight his curiosity. Clearing his throat, then leaning forward in his chair, putting his hands to rest on the bed, then clasping them in his lap, then licking his lips, then looking at the kid, then all about the room, then-

'Aw hell, Moon, just ask the damn question! The worst you'll get is no answer at all. Man up!'

Howard looked the kid in the eyes again, gaze moving all over his face, and landing on his eyes once more as his voice came out quiet and hesitant.

"Vince. Um, I was wondering- I mean, I have a question for you."

Here he paused to give Vince (himself) a moment.

"I, er, the doctors, they told me that...that you were from an...adopted family? Is that true? Why did you never tell me?"

Adopted family. Was that the right word to use? Ah, damn. Now Howard had gone and made a big deal out of it. It was nothing, really. Kids were adopted all the time. And he hadn't meant to sound so wounded on that last question, and kind of regretted it. Vince's face froze up for a moment, then went apathetic, and he answered in an airy tone that Howard had never heard him use before.

"Yeah, I've lived there since I was five. 's alright."

"Well, um...what happened to your parents?" Howard winced, really regretting that one.

"I don't know. I've been an orphan since I can remember."

"Then...where did you live before you were five?"

"With Bryan Ferry."

"Vince..." Howard closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. He swore if this child wasn't insane and was just kidding around with all these stories of his, Howard would strangle him. This was no longer funny. This was no longer interesting. This was no longer what Howard wanted to hear. He was done with Vince's stories; he wanted the truth.

Looking up he noticed a slight reticent look come into Vince's eyes. Seeing this as sign that the boy might actually cough up the truth, Howard repeated his earlier question, trying to keep some measure of allay in his tone.

Vince just looked up at him, mouth drawn in a tight line. Looking away from Howard, his voice came out small and sad, "You don't believe me. I keep telling everyone the truth, but they just look at me funny, like you are now. I thought you believed me, when I told you about my life in the jungle, but you don't...do you?"

Once again Howard was looking down those two crossroads. He had a sinking feeling that he would be finding himself at this fork quite often in the coming months, years, life.

Howard also noticed the slightly hopeful hitch in Vince's voice at those last two syllables. Perhaps...just maybe if Howard played along, he might be able to deduce what he could from Vince's stories, and just piece them all together like a puzzle. Howard felt forty-five again; he wasn't cut out for this. This wasn't some mystery novel, and he wasn't a detective by any means, but if there were in fact elements of truth amid this child's ramblings, perhaps he could weed them out. Howard Moon had just added another life mission to his now rapidly growing mental list of missions he had set for himself. Just under 'get a car' was now scrawled 'learn the truth about Vince through the elaborate metaphors his delusional mind conjures in lieu of reality'. It took up the entire bottom of the page; Howard would need to flip it and write any future aspirations on the back.

"No, Vince. I do believe you." Howard began, filling his voice with as much sincerity as he could. At Vince's skeptical look, Howard garnered a look of interest and trust, and hoped to god it got the kid talking again. He had a feeling that if he let the child clam up this time, he wouldn't be over it the next day.

"It-it's just that. Your stories are quite...unbelievable. But I do think that you're telling the truth ('not a total lie; Vince does seem to believe himself') and I'd like to hear more of your life in India. C'mon, you never run out of cool tales of all the animals you lived with. Why don't you tell me a story about Ferry; what's he like? Was he a good father?"

Vince smiled slightly, his face still holding suspicion, but after a few minutes of tense silence he visibly shoved it aside and replaced it with a completely sanguine expression.

"I don't wanna talk about Bryan. How about I tell you the story of the three hyena brothers? They were called Katili, Nuka, and Futagi, and they used to run wild through the jungle at night, rampaging and ravin' into the early hours of the morning. Some nights, when I would sneak out and go walking around, I'd see them. I always stayed far enough away so they couldn't see or smell me. You see, they were very dangerous, and anyone who got too close usually ended up with a beatin', or worse."

"Vince, I...I'd much rather hear about Ferry. He seems really interesting. I-"

"Howard."

Howard felt a spark of static pass through him, up his arms, spidering over his ribcage. This might just be the first time Vince ever used his name. He couldn't recall Vince ever saying it before. Funny, in that harsh accent of the boy's, his name didn't sound so plain anymore. Howard regained his senses again in time to hear the rest of Vince's sentence.

"That's another story for another time. Right now I wanna talk about the hyena brothers. Now do you wanna hear the story or not?"

Howard nodded enthusiastically, wanting to laugh at how authorative and adult Vince sounded as he looked up at Howard with eyebrows raised. Howard felt a bit like a tot at story time, begging for a favorite tale out of a humoring grandfather. Vince grinned and continued along where he left off, eyes once again becoming like a film projector, and Howard could practically see the imagery dancing about in the air between them.

"One night, right after my fourth birthday, I decided to go out and see the beautiful Tristis flowers. You see, they only bloom at night. Plus, I liked the jungle at night. It was very peaceful, and since most of the animals were asleep I almost had the whole place to meself! I never let Bryan know that I was sneaking out. He'd be well furious. He was the one who warned me away from the brothers; that they were nothin' but bad news. And Bryan was right. So, there I was, sittin' amoung the Tristis in a tiny little clearing, when I heard screaming, not too far off. Sounded like one hell of a fight was goin' on, so I went toward the sounds as quietly as I could. There, just beyond the giant rocks, were the brothers. They were surroundin' a lioness. It was weird, because usually the lionesses stayed together, 'specially if they were out at night. But the brothers had found one alone, I guess, and they was attacking her. I'd never seen anyone get killed before, but those brothers killed that lioness. Killed her right there next to the rocks, and laughed while they did it. You know, big loud hyena laughin'. Right scary, it was. I weren't sticking around, so I turned and ran. I ran all the way back to Bryan's house, and after I snuck back into my bed I just laid there. I couldn't sleep. I just kept hearin' the brothers' laughin'. After that, any time I saw the brothers, even if it was in daylight, I turned tail and ran my ass far away til I couldn't run no more."

Howard, still not used to the abrupt way in which Vince liked to end his stories, sat there in silence until he managed to gather his thoughts. He much preferred Vince's happier stories, like the one he had about the cockateil that taught him how to sing, or of his adopted brother, Culto the horse, whom he'd sing the day away with. But these darker fables of Vince's seemed to hold more elements of reality in them.

This was all completely backward to the way Howard had been raised. Reality. That's what Howard had been taught to rely on. Not singing horses and Indian jungles and being brought up by Bryan Ferry. No such flights of fancy were entertained by any of his family. To entertain such images of life, like those Vince's tales were rooted in...well, you might as well pack your things because you were getting shipped to the nearest asylum. His family practically feared anything surreal. Material; the physical, what you could see and feel. That's all there was. The closest thing to surreal his family held any stock in was a belief in god. And even that was only because of the 'physical evidence' that was the Bible. Even his fun-loving mother tended to shy away from that foggy realm of metaphor and dreams.

By all rights Howard should fear this boy; and he did, to an extent. But he feared more for the child than he feared the child himself. If the kid's life had been as dodgy as his stories made it seem, then Howard shuddered to think of what might become of him in a year. Hell, what might happen the instant he walked out of the safety of this hospital and back into the world, filled with homicidal hyena brothers, paedo green men, and an unnamed monster that was still on the loose.

By the time Howard pulled himself from his thoughts, he realised that Vince was nearly asleep. In fact, now that Howard really looked at him, he noticed small bags underneath the kid's eyes. Had the child not been sleeping well? Perhaps it was the strange room. Howard felt sympathy well up in him. It must be quite spooky to be made to sleep in a foreign bed, alone in a sterile environment filled with nurses half asleep and in no mood to humor the needs of a lonely child. Howard wished terribly that the doctors would let him stay through the night. He'd already asked, after his third visit. But they had very gently told him it was not allowed, as he was not family. Howard thought that was utter bullshit. Christ, with how little he had yet to see of Vince's real guardians (no word from them since that initial call made by the doctors) and given the fact that Howard found the time to be there every day until dark, but the ones in charge of Vince's care couldn't be bothered to show up once, the kid was practically his! On the back of that mental list of Howard's, he hastily scrawled, 'Give a firm talking-to to Vince's guardians the second I finally meet them!'

Reaching out toward the kid, Howard's hand paused only a second before resting over the top of the boy's head. Vince was now completely passed out. Howard assumed what did it was the story. He hadn't told one since the crocodile fiasco. Perhaps they comforted Vince, in some weird way. Howard wasn't sure how the story of three hyenas slaughtering a female lion could bring peace to anyone, but Vince did seem genuinely happy to be once more spinning a yarn for Howard to sit back and listen to with rapt attention.

Noticing the time, Howard mentally kicked himself when his watch read 11:27. He was supposed to be home by ten every afternoon. For the first time, Howard hoped his mother had gone out early that night, like she sometimes did. If not, then he would be the one receiving a talking-to when he stepped inside his front door. Sighing, Howard got up and closed the door to Vince's room, glancing back one last time at the sleeping child. Just before the door clicked completely closed, Vince, in his sleep, kicked the covers down around his hips, and his arms were found buried in the large sleeves of Howard's long-forgotten jacket. Howard laughed quietly as he made his way down the brightly lit hallway.