Cut bits – Vince's side to the story

Cut bits – Vince's side to the story


Alright this is the original version of this scene that I wrote. It's from Vince's POV rather than Naboo's in the actual story. When I posted it I only had to change three words, but I've increased it for you so it's inside Vince's head properly. When I wrote it, it was just an outsider's account from Vince, lol. So I hope this alternate view interests you, but I kinda think posting these is rather pointless – but I've always wondered over my fave fics what was missing or what went on from the other side, so it may be of some interest. I'll stop now and let you read it, :P

"You have to tell him, Vince."
"No. He hates me. He should hate me. I said terrible things to him Naboo. Horrible things. I don't deserve to see him again."
"Vince, this is serious. He'd want to know."

"No, Naboo." Vince muttered back, curled up on the couch he hugged his knees tighter. Why couldn't he ignore it? Why wouldn't it leave him alone? Why couldn't it just get out of his head? But there it was, bouncing around in his skull, reminding him again and again and again.

A tumour. He was dying. Dying, as in dead – and Howard wasn't there to save him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Noir. There's nothing we can do."

How could there be nothing? Howard wouldn't have nothing to do. He'd find something. They'd find something together. Howard could always help. But Howard wasn't here. He'd driven Howard away; his own cruel words had driven Howard away. What right did he have to ask Howard back? What could he do but crawl to Howard on his knees, beg him to come back. Beg him to save him? How could he do that to himself, how could he do that to Howard? Tears slipped down his cheeks as he saw the image of disgust in Howard's gaze.

"Vince – "

"No." he muttered, cutting Naboo short. No. He couldn't.

"He'll understand."
"No, I don't deserve it."
"He'd want to know."

"No." he struggled to mutter.
"Vince, this isn't something light that you can ignore. You miss him, and I'm sure he misses you."
"Doesn't matter." And it didn't. How could he come back, after all this time? Just for him, for Vince? Just to make his life a little easier. Coming back would just make Howard's life harder. How could he do that? He pulled his knees closer to his chest, trying to wrap his arms around himself, but it wasn't the same. Wasn't the same as when Howard hugged him…

"It does matter."
He didn't answer, letting the silence continue. How could it matter, what was it about him that could matter that much? It was amazing that Howard had stuck around as long as he did. Ten years was a long time to spend with a self obsessed nonce like himself. Especially himself.

"Vince, tell him. It's, it's not worth it." Naboo said, voice smaller than usual. Vince glanced up for a moment. Naboo was staring, a look in his eyes he'd never seen before. He looked away. He couldn't face it. Not this early. Not this conversation.

They'd reached it. He was dying. There was no escaping this.

He was dying.

And he was alone.

"Don't care." He muttered, looking away.
"Vince you do care. Why else would you be like this?" Naboo was earnest now. He wasn't going to leave this conversation alone. Vince shifted in his seat.
"Like what?" he mumbled,

"Vince you've barely left the window. You need to do something. It's not healthy."
"That doesn't matter, does it?" he replied, even before he managed to think about what he was saying.

Naboo fell silent. It was a helpless battle and it seemed Naboo finally realised that. It was about time. Vince had accepted it the moment the Doctor had asked whether there would be anyone else he needed to explain the situation to.

"No, there's… there's no one."

"Vince." He started again, a sigh – like his resolution was fading.
"No, Naboo. Just leave me alone." The tiny Shaman sighed and turned away, leaving Vince once more, alone at the window. Watching the sky.

"We should do this again, yeah?"
"I'd like that, Little Man."


This bit I originally wrote and was going to include – but then I reminded myself that this story couldn't include stuff from Vince's POV so I disappointingly rearranged how I was constructing chapter 9, 'When the Hope Dies' and had to totally remove this part where Vince sees Howard, cause Howard didn't know Vince was there and Naboo wasn't there either. At one stage I was going to have Naboo and Bollo there, but then I realised if Naboo was there he would have approached Howard and Hanna and yelled right off at them, so it wouldn't have worked.

Vince spun around, that voice echoing in his head. He was sick of it. Sick of his own mind playing tricks on him. One of the women in the crowd looked at him and Vince wasn't sure whether she was checking him out or questioning his sanity. Probably both, not that he cared anymore – it was a long time since he'd cared enough to much really. It'd been too long since he'd been out of the flat to care. He spun around again, listening to the sound of Howard's voice. That rough leeds accent sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the London lingo. It was a maze of different heads and shoulders amongst the stalls. But then he saw him.

Vince stared, his heart plummeting. Howard laughed, even at his distance Vince could see his tiny eyes glinting as he looked at the young woman beside him. He couldn't hear what they said anymore, the sound of the world evaporating as he drank him in. Absorbing everything he could from the look of them. Howard. The way Howard looked, made his heart stop. Made it ache. Howard didn't need him.

Howard had never really needed him.

Never. The tiny voice giggled fading off into his brain.

Howard laughed again as the young woman took his hand and dragged him over to a stand lined with Jazz records.

A wave of nausea hit Vince like a hammer and all of a sudden he felt the familiar onset rush as a headache returned. The familiar feeling as though his skull was being split in two. Tears sprouted in his eyes and he turned away, weaving through the crowd back the way he came.

If he'd waited but a second longer Howard would have turned to meet Vince's gaze, instead the jazz maverick turned to only see a mass of bobbing heads, a black artwork lost in the maze of brown and blonde. One second was all it took to break Vince's heart.

One second was all it could have taken to mend it.

One second.

This part was what I originally had for 'When the Hope dies' but again, from Vince's POV it wouldn't have worked, but I really liked the fragility and faith Vince has for Howard in it – even due to his illness. So due to my emotional depravity and the fact I actually like it, I chose to include these little snippets. This would have directly followed the above scene, but I never got around to writing the link, mainly due to the fact I chose to cut it, lol. Here we go:

Vince heard Naboo call his name as he rushed into the flat. He ignored him. All he wanted was to disappear. To forget he'd ever gone out. Forget the happiness in Howard's gaze. Howard was happy without him, that's why he never read the letters. Why he never opened them. He was showing Vince he didn't need him. Tears sprouted to Vince's eyes as he ran into his room, slamming the door behind him. Tears were running in droves down his cheeks as he slid down the back of the door. Trying to suppress his sobs he sat there, crying for an age. The sound of Naboo's voice echoing through the wood, but he couldn't understand a single word the Shaman said and he didn't say a single thing back. He simply cried until there were no more tears.

Howard I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry. He repeated over and over in his head.

I'm sorry. Please Howard. Help me, please. I'm sorry.

But Howard couldn't hear him, Howard wouldn't listen.

But he had to try. Struggling to his feet, Vince stumbled to the side of his room, his feet going out from under him sending him crashing onto the desk. A wave of hair products and paint bottles falling to the ground with him.

Raiding the scattering on the floor Vince found pen and paper, and once again wrote the familiar address, his addled brain forgetting that the letters always came back, ignoring the pain and confusing itself into believing that that this time, this time Howard would listen.

Dear Howard…


I wrote and had every intention of including this scene, as it was going to help show Vince's erratic state of mind. But I found I didn't really need it and I couldn't find the best place for it to go. Hence it wound up on the cutting room floor. I think the best place it would have fit would have been somewhere in Chapter 4 'Rising Sun' or Chapter 5 'The Break up and the break down' – but I couldn't find the right place for it. Much like the next scene as well.

Glancing over at the couch Howard smiled as he took in Vince. He was perched on the couch, knees up against his chest, his hands clenched around his boots. If anyone else saw him they would have thought he was moping. Howard knew better, it was simply how Vince sat when he was content. He was like a monkey. Always climbing on everything. Howard smiled as he listened to the sound of Colobus the Crab echoing from the television. Damn show, he didn't know why they spent every Wednesday watching it when they'd seen it a million times before, but even though he complained, it was only to induce an argument from Vince. It was only to have fun. And if they were having fun then he'd watch Colobus a thousand times again. It was nice to see Vince watching the show. Howard's heart swelled, maybe next Wednesday would return to normal. Maybe he'd over reacted at Vince's attitude on Wednesday, it was after all possible for him to over react. Chuckling at himself, Howard took his tea and walked out into the lounge room.

"Colobus the Crab," he tutted, watching Vince stare at the television as though he'd never seen the images before.

"Yeah, I missed it the other night." Vince muttered, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Vince you've seen every episode a thousand times. Don't you think it's enough?" Howard grinned, pushing that little bit. Waiting for Vince to playfully bite back.
"So? What's it to you?" Vince snapped, his head turning sharply to face Howard. Howard winced, shocked. Vince's face was paler than usual, wan almost, and he never snapped like this when they bickered - especially about Colobus. It was just what they did, Vince would randomly put it on, Howard would complain for a moment, they'd settle down and wind up watching an entire season before the day finished. That was the game. That was part of the magic of the show. It was the way of things. It had never been like this. But what scared Howard was the look in Vince's eyes. They were harsh, angry and he thought for a moment crinkled in pain, but it was gone before he knew it.

"I was just saying Vince."
"Yeah well you say it every fucking time Howard. I'll watch what I want – bloody hell. 'S'not like I'm asking you to watch it. Like you said, you watched it the other night." He scowled getting to his feet.

"Where are you going? Vince!"

"Fuck off Howard, I've got a headache." Vince spat stalking off, the sound of his door slamming echoing around the flat over the sounds of the still blazing television.

Howard sat where he was, stunned as a mullet.


This is the last scene that I've got to show you, and I actually wrote this one before I wrote it from Howard's POV as seen in chapter 3 'Colobus Cranky. But I thought it would be interesting to show the different way Vince reacted to both Howard and Naboo over the same incident, but I never would up using it. It again, didn't fit where I wanted it to – 'Rising Sun' I think it was, or I even contemplated it further in, in chapter 7 I think, 'Unseen Decay' – but I couldn't crow bar it in so I left it for here.

Naboo glanced down at his watch, 7:27 glowing in the dim light. Looking up he was surprised to see the couch still empty. Vince never missed Colobus – repeat or otherwise.

"Bollo, go and turn Colobus on, would you?" he asked his familiar who grunted in assent as Naboo headed up the hallway.

Vince's door was shut and Naboo knocked politely before entering. Vince was splayed out on the bed sideways. His eyes were clamped shut and his palms rested over his lids. The lights were at their dimmest but electro continued to blast out of the speakers at an unnatural volume.

"Vince, it's 7:30 – Colobus is on." Naboo said loudly, over the sound of the CD. Vince removed his hands from his eyes and cringed.

"Jeez Naboo, turn the lights down would you. It's way bright in here." Naboo frowned.

"Vince, if you turn the lights down any more you'd be in the dark."

Vince looked confused for a moment, rolling over he pushed himself up, wincing as he did so. Raising a hand to his head.

"Right." He muttered "Look I've got a blazing headache, Naboo. I'm gonna stay here."

"If you're sure."


"Do you want Bollo to bring you something to eat?"
"Nah." He replied, flopping back down on the covers to resume the position he had before.

"Turn the lights off would you, Naboo?" he asked,

"You know it may help if you turned the volume down." Naboo muttered moving over to the CD player.

"Nah – it helps with the thumping." Vince replied and Naboo bit his tongue.

"Well we're out here if you want us." He muttered and Vince made no recognition he'd said anything. Shaking his head Naboo switched off the lights and pulled the door shut behind him.

"Vince watch Colobus?" Bollo asked, from where he was seated on the couch.

"Nah." Naboo replied collapsing on the couch beside the gorilla.

"What?" Howard asked, peering in from the kitchen.

"Vince isn't up to watching it tonight."

"That's odd – he never misses it." Howard mused, "I'm going to see what's wrong."

"No, Howard!" but the Jazz maverick was gone before Naboo could finish.

"I got a bad feeling about this." Bollo muttered.

Naboo nodded.

"Yeah." But Naboo was sure Bollo wasn't talking about the same thing he was.

There we go, Unanswered Letters is finished!! I'm really thankful for the lovely response you all gave me, despite my rather depressing subject matter. You've made me fall in love with the site and I'm going to write a lot more once my exams are over and post them all here. :P so you haven't scared me off! Anyway, I'm dedicating this chapter to Swisstony, because she's the one (reviewer) who was able to withstand my intention to make you all cry. I was reading my author's messages the other day and I sound right conceited, lol, but I almost managed it! :P (dammit) Sorry everyone! I'll make it my intention to write something long and fluffy at some point after the exams, just to make up for it. But at the moment I have something in the works that's right damn angsty again – though not to these excesses and I've been requested to write a sequel to this, so I'll try and get that up as soon as I can. Though I doubt you can expect anything but a one shot between now and the 20th or so of November, DAMN those exams!! Any idea's you want to shoot my way is fine by me – ill need something to stimulate the mind tanks at the moment, give me something to mull over in the short spaces between Peter Skrzynecki, Shakespeare, Cloudstreet, pythagoras' theorem, calculus, Athens, Van Gogh, Pericles, Picasso, Software design Structures and algorithms… god its putting me to sleep just thinking about it!

Once again I thank all of you for your reviews and kind words, and yes, tears – there's nothing quite logging on to find eight messages from people telling you they're balling their eyes out to make you feel good about your story. How weird does that sound?



boogies down

One finished story down… everything else in my head to go. XD

Jacqui XXX