Title: No Regrets
Fandom: Entourage
Pairing: Vince/Eric
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implied slash?

Spoilers: for episode 5x11

Word count: 1.098

Summary: "As his feet touched the ground, the Queens native realized that he had let himself feel the moment too much."

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of oneshotwonderment. oneshotwonderment is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: The bold lines below are take directly from the episode. When I heard the first peice of dialouge written here my mind jumped to Vince/Eric right away and I had to write it down.


"…that's your childhood love. There should be sorrow, remorse, sadness."

Vince considers the director's description as he is yanked back into place for the scene. What could he possibly do different? He was putting himself, putting the character, into the dialogue. He was giving everything. Vince closed his eyes and let his imagination run away with for the precious seconds. He just needed to know the pain. He needed to identify with the sense of loss. He needed to feel the sadness.

"Action!"

"Wilson, I don't think I'm gonna make it, man? Can you call my wife? Tell her I love her!"

"Stop! Stop, stop!"

The young actor from Queens growled in frustration. Why couldn't he get this right? He'd rehearsed this scene repeatedly. This was the only scene where his character, Ray, got any sort of recognition. It hadn't been that way with the original version of the script, but it had been ripped to shreds. Vince and Eric could barely reconcile the original with the butchered crap they were receiving from personal assistants every day.

Eric's writer clients were going to be pissed as hell when they saw the final film…if it ever got finished that was. Eric was good though; he'd make them happy with the final product. Eric would come out on top of this whole disaster with his head held high…because he was Eric.

However, if the film wasn't completed…Vince tuned out the director's latest rant as he considered things. Eric was the one who would be hurt most if this film didn't make it. Sure, Vince's career was on the line but it was pretty much dead already. No one would admit it or acknowledge it but it was true.

Eric's career was just taking off though. He needed these writers happy; he needed a client base to show off and Vince's name wasn't worth much anymore. His best friend had finally found a place in this crazy world that was all his own; he had climbed passed so many obstacles, Vince's co-dependence & selfishness was just one of many, to get there. Vince could not…would not take Eric down with him.

"Let's go again!" Vince shouted down to the shrieking man interrupting him mid-rant. "I'll get it this time." The red-faced man took a deep breath and Vince cringed certain that more Vince-hate was going to come spewing out. Vince shut his eyes again and really dug deep.

"Action!"

Vince tore off his helmet and threw it angrily at the ground below him. He yanked the stubborn zipper down and grabbed for the walkie-talkie. He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie and let himself truly feel. He let himself truly exist in the moment and just feel aloud.

What if he was truly stuck in the middle of such a blaze and he only had these few fleeting moments? What if he only had one last goodbye? What would he say, who would he say it to, and how would he feel?

"Wilson, I don't think I'm gonna make it, man? Can you call my best friend? Tell him I love him!"

Tears stung Vince's eyes as he spoke the lines. Pain etched his features. The crew below was silent out of utter amazement. Some of them were fans of Vince's; others, like the director, thought he was the worst actor to come out of Hollywood since…well ever. All of them alike were utterly captivated. Sure, the lines weren't as written or even written at all, but the emotion was overwhelming. No one dared interrupt.

"Tell him I've always loved him. Tell him he's everything to me. Tell him to keep living and that I'm proud of him. Tell him that it has always been him and tell him that I'm sorry I never had the courage to tell him myself. Please Wilson, he has to know." Vince dropped his head as tears fell down his face.

No one moved; no one even dared to breath. The moment dangled suspended in time.

"Cut." The director said but his voice was much too soft to be heard. "Cut!" He shouted louder this time and the loud noise startled everyone into motion. The young men hoisted Vince down from his suspended position. As his feet touched the ground, the Queens born native realized that he had let himself feel the moment too much. He hadn't spoken any of the lines!

"Vincent!" Vince cringed as the director raced down to meet him. This wasn't going to be pretty. He was tempted to let the axe fall as the saying went…and then the reality of Eric's situation came back to him. He couldn't let the director just cut him a new way and run. He had to stand his ground; he opened his mouth to defend himself when the director cut him off. "That was magnificent, Vincent!"

"It was?"

"The best acting I have seen on this entire set." The director paused and waved his hands around a bit. "I mean, you went totally off script and all that, but it's do-able."

"It is?" Vince was just a little blindsided by the approval of the director.

"Of course!" The other man claps the tired actor on the back. "Gender or status of the person wasn't important. All that was important was that Ray had a heart; that he cared about someone specific so that the audience feels sad when he dies. You achieved that."

"Well…I'm glad."

"And your improv changes? Inspired, truly. For some reason the American women really fall for the gay love stuff." Vince just nodded along. The success of Brokeback Mountain had made that obvious. The real meaning didn't hit him until they were halfway between the craft services setup and his trailer.

"So you're using that? In the film?" A cold clammy feeling settled deep inside Vince as he waited for a response.

"Absolutely!" The director cheered happily before heading to the craft services tables.

He didn't want the public to see that. He didn't want his loved ones to see it. When they saw Smoke Jumpers, they would know. When Eric saw Smoke Jumpers, he would know. There was no way he'd be able to laugh this one away.

He remembered, though, the feelings he had felt up on set the desperation, the sadness, the utter loss. Vince didn't want to wait until the end to tell the truth. It had hurt so much knowing he'd never get to say the words himself. He pulled open his trailer door and stepped inside.

"Hey, E, can we talk?"

Vincent Chase would live without regrets.