I'm uploading this chapter now because it came really easily but now I'm stuck so this little bit will have to tide you over for the next two days.

Thank you for the reviews, they've been wonderful and have made the whole writing process easier.

Ta-ra.

Vince felt sick. He couldn't see properly and the room he was in kept moving about. It wasn't a room he recognised and he didn't know who had him now, or how long he'd be there. He hated being moved around. The foster people always hated him. Somehow, Vince knew that wasn't right. He didn't have guardians any more, did he? He had Howard now, didn't he? But he couldn't see Howard anywhere and the bed was rocking and something was stuck to his arm, making it feel heavy and fuzzy. He was alone, and Vince never wanted to be alone.

He tried to sit up but it didn't work and he started to shake feebly as his stomach began to climb up his throat. A woman walked into the room in a blue dress. A nurse, a voice in Vince's head told him. She came to check something near his shoulder, an IV, Vince suddenly realised. But no, no, that meant...

He looked down at the needle in his arm and began to shudder. No, not again. He hated needles because needles meant blood and blood meant death and Vince didn't want to die. He really didn't want to die.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," the nurse whispered softly. "You're in the hospital. You're eye's been fixed and you'll feel better soon."

Vince tried to speak but she hushed him.

"Don't try to talk, you've hurt your throat and you need to rest it for a few days. Screamed yourself hoarse, apparently. Do you remember?"

Vince began to shake his head but then stopped. He remembered the screaming, the blood and the smell and the shadow creeping across his eye. He nodded to the nurse and felt a tear slide over his cheek and down into his hair.

"It's alright, pet. It's alright," the nurse murmured before looking up and smiling. "And look, your dad's come back up to see you."

"No!"

Vince's voice sounded like ripping fabric and he tried weakly to escape the bed but it was no use. He didn't know where he was, Howard was gone and now, somehow, his dad was back and he had no way of escaping him. He scratched at the IV but the nurse pulled his hand away and suddenly there was another hand on his as well. It was a gentle hand and Vince peered blearily into Gary's soft eyes.

"It's alright, Vince," he said. "It's just me."

"Gary?"

"Yeah, Vince. Calm down now," he whispered, and Vince looked up into the older man's sad face and relaxed back into the bed. Gary sat down beside him, humming soothingly and Vince felt another tear escape his eye and track slowly down the side of his face. He closed his eye to blink it away but found he couldn't open it again. He was so tired. Gary'd look after him, and when he woke up he'd ask him where Howard'd gone. He just needed a little sleepy first.

"Hi Gary!"

"Uh, hi Vince."

Gary looked down at the tiny boy bouncing about and blocking his way out of the front door. Vince's hair was hanging down over his eyes as usual and looked like it needed a serious wash, but the kid didn't seem to mind. Six-year-old boys were much less fussy about that sort of thing. That and he couldn't exactly wash it himself, Gary supposed. He had a large bruise on his left cheek that hadn't been there a few days ago and Gary felt that he should probably ask about it.

"Hey, Gary, I saw that music video of yours on tellie yesterday! It was genius!"

Gary smiled, it was hard not to when faced with Vince Noir's enthusiasm but he really did think he needed to ask about the bruise.

"Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. What happened to your face, Vincey boy?"

"Um..."

Vince's eyes darted about, huge in his little face, and Gary wondered what excuse he'd get this morning.

"I was hunting dinosaurs and... um, I was trying to find one of them herbaminavoreses but... um, a t-rex appeared instead and I told him that his arms were too short and he should work out more, and he got well cross, and he told me he was gonna smack my face in, and I said, 'yeah, what with, those tiny arms?' and hit me with his big tail instead, and I fell down and had a sleepy and that's definitely what happened completely the truth."

"Is it?"

"Um... yes?"

Gary just stared. Someone should write those excuses down. Some of them were imaginative genius. Despite being completely bonkers, Vince was an adorable child, and he didn't understand how his parents could be so cruel, or how Vince could continue to shower them with affection the way he'd seen the kid do.

"You sure about that, Vince?"

"Yeah. Can I borrow your eye liner pencil 'cos my mum won't let me have hers and I wanna look like the cool boys like you, so can I borrow one of yours until I'm big enough to make money and buy my own?"

Gary stared again. He hadn't really anticipated his musical style being enjoyed by six-year-olds but it felt nice to have a fan, even if it was just the kid next door.

"I don't think I should give you eyeliner just yet, Vince," he said quietly, kneeling down so that he was at the boy's eye level. "It can be tricky and you might poke yourself. We wouldn't want you hurting your nice blue eyes, would we?"

Vince's shoulders slumped and his lip wobbled. Gary wanted to give him a hug but knew he couldn't. He considered himself Vince's friend but he wasn't on the best terms with the boy's parents and if they saw him hugging their son they'd probably accuse him of something nasty.

"But I can have some when I'm big, right?"

The little voice sounded so forlorn that Gary nodded without a second thought. He'd buy the kid eyeliner for his thirteenth birthday, whether they were still neighbours or not, he decided. Vince deserved to be showered with presents and affection and praise and it was heartbreaking that he wasn't.

"My mum says that real boys don't wear make-up. She was cross."

Gary nodded slower this time. The bruise was on Vince's left cheek and Gary had learnt a few things about Vince's parents in the last few years. If Vince was hit by his dad his whole right side would be purple and blue and black. If it was his mum, it was more likely to be a single direct hit on the left.

"Did you try to use your mum's make-up? Is that why she hit you?"

Vince looked up and Gary saw the answer clearly on the kid's face but Vince shook his head so fast he nearly toppled over.

"It was the t-rex. I told you. My mum loves me and I need to be a good boy but I'm a naughty boy."

"Ok," Gary said, standing and starting to move down the path to his car, Vince trailing along at his side. He'd already called the police once to make a complaint but it hadn't led to anything. Vince's saving grace was his optimism and his desperate desire to be loved and to be allowed to show the love he had for other people. He just wished there was someone else in Vince's life who saw him for the great person he was and was growing into, someone who'd love him properly.

"Look," he said seriously as he turned to get into his car. "If you ever need to tell me anything, anything at all, you can. You can knock on my door and I'll answer, ok? You can call me too. I won't get mad. I don't think you're a naughty boy."

Vince's smile had seemed to brighten up the whole street, turning a grey, overcast day into something wonderful for a few moments. Gary smiled too but he still didn't feel happy.

"Thanks Gary," Vince bubbled happily as he skipped back down the path to his door. "I will. Promise."

The first time Vince kissed a boy, he called Gary. When he had sex with a girl, when he got beaten up by the other kids in the foster home, when he kept having nightmares and didn't know what to do, when he failed his driving test because of his fuzzy eye, when Howard asked him to come and work at the zoo - Vince called Gary. He also called Gary when he felt sad, which wasn't often, but was most often in September. Gary usually just listened, or put his wife on when it was a girl/boy related problem or something to do with the ever-present Howard crush. As the years went by the calls came less frequently but Gary always kept an eye on Vince. He'd pop around with a new eye liner pencil or a preview of his latest album or inside information on where certain pop stars might be hanging out. Vince needed checking on.

He hadn't really been surprised when Vince had called a few months ago in a bit of a state because he and Howard had 'accidentally' crossed the physical boundary and he couldn't make sense of his feelings. Gary had only been surprised that it had taken them so long to get there but he was worried too. Vince was fractured, permanently wounded by his parents, and he didn't really trust people deep down. It would be a hard thing for Vince to come to terms with his feelings because loving someone was, to Vince, a dangerous thing. Despite everything they'd done to him Vince had loved his parents and he'd known that they loved each other. Unfortunately those were some of the only examples of love that Vince had experienced in his life, and it hadn't left him with a positive understanding.

To him love meant pain and rejection and horror. The people you loved left you and damaged you and it was important to keep part of yourself hidden so that you weren't destroyed completely. That was how Vince understood love. He was a romantic at heart - Gary had heard him as a boy, singing power ballads out of tune whilst bashing at his little keyboard - but he had no experience of romance. It was no wonder that Vince was afraid of his feelings.

Gary'd tried to be a positive influence on him but he hadn't really been able to do much. From what he knew of Howard, the man was emotionally repressed but kindly and sensitive and god knew Vince needed sensitivity. Gary didn't want to push either man too hard but he needed them to talk to each other. Not only because they were destined to be together and the sooner they worked that out the happier everyone would be, but because the anxiety of the situation had brought the memories back too strongly and Vince wasn't coping with them. Gary didn't mind that Vince had taken to calling him every Monday but now the boy was in hospital because his dreams were so vivid and intense they'd physically damaged him. His birthday was a week away, which meant that soon it would be the anniversary of his parents' death and Gary hated that anniversary. Vince and Howard needed to get themselves sorted before then so that Gary didn't have to spend the night wondering if Vince was ok and eventually going out to find him, drunk and tearful at some club. He had his own kids now and saw even more clearly what Vince hadn't been given but he also needed to let Vince grow up, he knew. Not that he resented being there for him but it was time for Vince, and Howard, to move on to the next stage of their lives, and let Gary get back to changing nappies and playing with toddlers. Perhaps there was some way he could help with that, he thought. Vince's birthday was next week, after all.

He stood up and stretched tiredly. He was getting too old for this but he didn't really mind. His wife called Vince his first child, the one born from a love of electro and make-up and music and performance, and she had urged him to go to the hospital straight away and he had.

And now he had a simple plan to put into action.

He walked quietly through the ward and out to the lift, stepping into one as Howard emerged from the other, and back in his bed, Vince whimpered sadly in his sleep.