Title: A means to conceal oneself
Author: Missing Fairy
Summary: Alternate scene during 'Tundra'. When Vince was kicked out of the tent by Howard, the polar bear never came and he was left outside, alone, all night. What will Howard discover about Vince's past? Warning: entails mental and physical child abuse.
Type: most likely a one-shot but if anyone wants a follow-up story or a side-story or anything I would be more than happy to oblige.
Warnings: entails mental and physical child abuse, although not in any great detail. Spoilers for Tundra episode of season one.
Rating: T – there is nothing graphic in this story, although there are concepts which I believe may only be suitable for those aged 13+. If anyone has an issue with this rating, please let me know.
"Howard, it's freezing out here," Vince repeated, hoping his friend could hear him through the tent he'd just been kicked out of.
He shivered; Howard had told him not to fall asleep… but he was tired…
He leaned his back against the tent, trying to absorb some of the warmth from the stove inside, and brought his knees up to his chest, letting his forehead rest on his knees. His teeth were chattering so forcefully that he was surprised they hadn't chipped or dislodged or something similar.
"Howard…" he tried again but received no response.
He was cold and alone.
The next morning, Howard woke up and remembered with a slight pang of guilt that he had kicked Vince out of the tent last night.
"Vince? C'mon, Vince, put the kettle on, will yeh?" he said by way of allowing Vince back into the tent without saying he outright forgave him. "Stop sulking," he poked his head out of the tent. "Vince?"
And there Vince was, huddled up in a ball, his body wracked with shivers as he tried to preserve some warmth.
Howard swore. "Shit, Vince," he clambered out of the tent and crawled on his knees to the smaller man. He grabbed both his shoulders and shook him. "Vince, wake up. Vince!"
Vince looked up groggily through half closed eyes; there were dark rings under them and his lips were blue. He muttered something to Howard.
"What?" the larger man questioned when he couldn't understand.
Vince cleared his throat. "M'sorry," he said tiredly and went to put his head back down to go back to sleep.
"Oh, no you don't," Howard insisted, shaking him again but with less force than the previous time.
"C'mon, get inside," he was surprised when he felt Vince resisting to his tugging at him to get in the tent.
He looked down and saw Vince shaking his head determinedly.
"No," Howard managed to hear him mutter over the wind.
"Have you gone wrong in the head?" Howard implored, pulling with more force.
Vince shook his head again. "No," he insisted.
Howard looked at him in disbelief, unsure as to whether Vince was denying his wrong-headedness or simply reiterating his previous statement, before hoisting him up by looping his own arms under Vince's armpits and dragging him inside, despite Vince's weak attempts to swat him away.
Upon getting Vince inside and putting him in his sleeping bag, Howard turned the stove on full to help warm the tent (more specifically a certain person in the tent) and make a cuppa tea.
He glanced over at Vince who was falling asleep again; while Howard was please that he was returning to his natural colouring, he didn't know if it was the best idea for Vince to be falling asleep with such a low body temperature.
"Shoulda though of that last night, eh?" a voice niggled at him from the back of his mind.
"Shut up, voice," he muttered back. He turned his attention to his friend. "C'mon, Vince, don't be falling asleep now," he tapped him on the face.
"Alrigh', alrigh'; s'not like I got a great deal of sleep last night, so forgive me for being a little sleepy," Vince murmured with bleary eyes.
As much as Vince's tone annoyed him, Howard was pleased he was acting more like his usual self.
"Still," Howard stated, handing Vince a mug of hot tea, noting with silent displeasure and remorse that Vince's hands were shaking. "Try'n stay awake, yeah? At least til your body temperature is back to normal, eh?"
Vince sat up a little straighter and nodded tiredly, holding the steaming cup in his still-shaking, de-gloved hands.
"Isn't that hot?" Howard questioned, nodding at the cup in Vince's naked hands.
The smaller man shrugged.
"Can't really feel it; I expect it would be a good sign when I feel it start to burn," he nodded with another shrug.
Howard glanced at Vince's hands as inconspicuously as possible and felt a relieved smile play at the edges of his mouth when he saw that, while they were pale and his nail beds looked a little purpled, the tips of his fingers were no bluer than the rest of his body.
Vince balanced his cup beside him and flexed his fingers with a small grin.
"Feeling's coming back," he said happily.
"You're still shaking though," Howard observed.
"That's 'cause I'm still cold, innit?" Vince retorted, once again bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees; he rested his chin on them.
Howard looked hesitant for a moment.
"Vince, what was all that stuff about not wanting to come inside before?" he asked slowly, taking a sip from his tea in a weak attempt to take the weight from his words.
Vince blinked at him with confusion in his eyes.
"What?" he questioned.
"Before, when I was trying to get you inside… you didn't want to come in…" Howard tried to explain but the blank look on Vince's face led him to believe his attempt at explaining wasn't jogging his memory any.
"I had to drag you in," Howard insisted. "You were wrong in the head for a while there," he paused. "I had to drag you in!" he repeated, as though it were going to help Vince remember if he expressed his own effort in the situation.
And then he saw it; the look in Vince's eye that meant he knew something… more than he was letting on, at least.
Howard narrowed his already small eyes at Vince and the smaller man shifted uncomfortably under his stare.
"Whatchu looking at?" he asked with averted eyes. When Howard kept staring at him, an edge off annoyance rang in his voice. "What?"
"You know something," Howard insisted.
"What? No, I do not," Vince stated with indignation and a furrowed brow.
"You do," Howard softened his voice a little. "C'mon, Vince, I'm yeh best mate, you can tell me,"
Vince looked uneasy again but didn't say anything.
Howard decided to prod.
"Is it to do with… the snow?" he offered.
Vince shook his head with a barely noticeable smile as he silently laughed at Howard's suggestion.
"The tent?"
"No,"
"The outdoors in general?"
Vince shook his head with a slight look of disbelief directed towards his companion. "How d'you think I'd go working in a zoo if I had a problem with the outdoors?" he questioned with a wry grin.
"Okay, okay, point taken. Let's see…" Howard paused for a moment and thought about the sequence of events before continuing in a quieter, more tentative voice. "Is it to do with the fact I kicked you out?"
Howard saw Vince's body stiffen in the sleeping bag and avoid eye contact.
"No," he attempted feebly with the same sort of energy he was able to muster after being left in the snow all night.
"Vince…" Howard began but the man in question scooted away from him and in doing so, he knocked over his mug of tea; the liquid sloshed over the floor of the tent.
Vince swore and began trying to mop it up with a towel he'd managed to find within arm's reach.
"M'sorry," he muttered as he cleaned everything up, being careful so as to not get any of the liquid on his snow suit.
"'M'sorry'," Howard pondered the statement and found it odd that Vince had apologised so meekly.
"You don't need to be sorry, Vince," Howard explained, finding another towel to wipe up the rest of the mess. "It was an accident," he paused and looked guilty, his eyes darting about. "Just like your mobile phone going off last night; that was an accident too. I mean, s'not like you meant for your phone to go off at that very moment, was it?"
Vince assumed that Howard was talking more to himself than him so decided not to voice his answer, choosing to shake his head instead.
Howard sighed. "I should be the one apologising, Vince," he said in a pained voice. "You coulda died,"
Vince snorted inappropriately.
"I haven't died before, I doubt I'd start doing it now," he said bitterly.
Howard looked at him questioningly with a worried gleam to his eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Vince shared a look with Howard that, to the untrained eye looked simply like his usual smiling face, but showed hidden melancholy.
"It's nothing," he said dismissively. "I – I just don't like being left alone,"
Howard wasn't sure of what to say to this.
"You weren't really alone," he reasoned, grasping at straws. "I was in the tent; you were just outside,"
Vince nodded.
"That's how it always was," he said so quietly it was almost inaudible.
Howard looked at him questioningly and when Vince met his eyes, Howard was sure Vince wanted to tell him something, but needed a helpful pull in the right direction.
"Vince?" he enquired, hoping it to be enough.
"Howard," Vince began as though struggling to find the words. "When you were little and you did something… bad… what did your parents do?"
Howard perceived this as an odd and ominous question. His immediate instinct was to insist that he was Howard Moon and he never did anything bad – but that would be a lie and would not help the situation any, even if it wasn't a lie.
"Well, I might get sent to my room or have to do extra chores… why?"
Vince nodded, biting his lip.
"I didn't always live with Bryan Ferry," he said slowly. "I did til I was about seven but after that it was with my parents,"
"Why did you live with Bryan Ferry to begin with?" Howard interjected, making more tea now that Vince's cup had been spilled and his finished.
"Switched at the hospital," Vince said with a grin. "Betcha didn't think that actually happened, but it did. Bryan Ferry got his girlfriend pregnant and their kid and me were born on the same day, around the same time and I guess there was a mix up with the name tags 'cause I got sent to live with him after his girlfriend left and his kid was living with my parents,"
Howard nodded to express his comprehension.
"Anyway, it was figured out when I was seven and we were switched back," Vince explained and then his face dropped. "Turns out my dad preferred the other kid 'cause he liked sports and stuff and I liked… well, y'know," Vince shrugged sadly. "Anyway, whenever I would do anything like draw or do people's hair or wear anything shiny or something, he would punish me,"
The words made Howard feel a little sick.
"He'd send me outside and call me names and… stuff…" Vince alluded before letting out a harsh, humourless laugh. "Tried to make a man outta me,"
"What did he do, Vince?" Howard asked with a dry mouth; he handed Vince his tea and took a too-big sip of his own, coughing slightly as the liquid burnt his throat. He watched Vince shift uncomfortably.
"Do I have to?" Vince asked with some desperation in his voice. "You can guess, can't you?"
When Howard didn't answer, Vince sighed and bit his lip again.
"He'd hit me," Vince said quietly. "Sometimes with his fists, sometimes with… other things…" Vince shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, gripping it at the roots. "But that wasn't that bad," he said hurriedly. "Nothing really bad," he insisted and then paused. "The worse part was when he sent me out of the house and I had to be by m'self…"
Howard now felt terrible at his actions the previous night and wanted to say something – anything – to make it better.
"Vince, I'm -" he began but Vince cut him off.
"Don't worry, you weren't to know, and even if you did it was my own stupid fault for thinking there wouldn't be any reception out 'ere," Vince chuckled, some of his usual spark returning to his demeanour.
This didn't make Howard feel any better.
"But, Vince," Howard insisted. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Never asked, did yeh?" Vince replied with a shrug.
"You didn't tell me because I never asked you if you had been abused as a child?" Howard asked with disbelief.
Vince's cheeks reddened. "I wasn't abused," he stated with a bit of a pout.
"What would you call it, then?" Howard questioned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
Vince shrugged again and didn't reply.
"That's what I thought," Howard muttered darkly.
"It wasn't abuse," Vince repeated. "I was just harder to deal with that other kids. If I'd made more of an effort to like sports or something then it wouldn't have happened, but I didn't because I didn't want to. It was my own fault; m'dad was just trying to… improve me," Vince justified, although from his tone, it sounded as though he were quoting another's words.
Howard stared at him, his mouth slightly open, stunned.
"You don't really believe that, do you?" he questioned. He was worried for his friend, especially since he had never seen Vince act like that before. It was like he was falling back into old, bad habits which dictated he was wrong and couldn't have his own opinion – and Howard had caused it, at least to some degree. He had brought it back out of Vince.
"Yeah, I do," Vince replied with a hint of defiance.
There was a silence for a few moments.
"Why do you believe it?" Howard asked, slowly making his way towards his companion.
Vince's eyes shot up.
"What d'yeh mean?" he muttered with a frown, as though he were questioning himself also.
"What makes you believe that it was your fault? What could you have possibly done to make what your dad did to you right?"
"Lots of things,"
"Like what?"
"Like… like…" Vince gestured wildly with his hands in frustration. "Like everything!" he breathed heavily. "Everything I did deserved it! I wouldn't play 'proper' sports – liked to dress up – liked to draw – liked to do my hair – liked music – everything!"
Vince had crawled deeper into his sleeping bag now, crossing his arms around his knees and glaring at the stove, as if it were the cause of his confession and unhappiness.
Howard took a deep breath and fought against his anger towards Vince's father.
"So, he abused you," he talked across Vince's protests. "Because you were… you?"
Vince contemplated the statement. "No, he punished me because I wasn't the me he wanted me to be,"
"So what?" Howard retorted bluntly. "My parents didn't like the zoo and I told them that was going to be one of my careers from a young age, they didn't abuse me for that!" anger laced his words as he tried to talk some sense into Vince. "And they hated the trumpet and I was rubbish at it until I became a multi-instrumentalist but they still let me practice it every night without them having to beat me as punishment,"
Vince shrank back from his friend at these words, both not wanting to believe them and at the sharp edge to Howard's tone. Vince's learnt reactions were kicking in and his brain was automatically linking harsh, loud words with pain and punishment, despite the years that had passed.
Howard's demeanour softened and he sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on Vince's shoulder.
But Vince pulled away and shuffled back until he hit the wall of the tent.
"Vince," Howard said almost dumbly with muted shock. "I'm not going to hurt you," he felt sick to the stomach.
"You don't understand," Vince said quietly, his words muffled due to his head being buried in his knees.
"Then explain it to me," Howard prompted.
Vince raised his head with a grimace. "I was worse than everyone else,"
Despite the contradiction Howard desperately wanted to spout out, he knew it wouldn't help him get any further with Vince. "Why's that, Vince?"
Vince gave a shuddering breath and Howard was sure he could see tears gathering in Vince's eyes before they were blinked away. Vince opened his mouth to reply but he seemed to choke on the words. He cleared his throat.
"I was stupid," he said quietly.
Howard had to admit Vince wasn't the brightest spark but he sensed there to be more to it than that.
"Stupid how?" Howard continued to edge ever-so slowly towards his friend, only about twenty centimetres away.
Vince looked at Howard with his big, blue eyes. "Stupid in that I never tried any harder to try to change,"
Howard gave Vince a sad smile and he gently put his arm around Vince and rubbed his shoulder in a comforting way until the smaller man was used to the physical contact again.
"That's not stupidity, Vince," Howard said calmly. "That's honesty and bravery,"
Vince looked at Howard as though he were mad but there was a small glint in his eyes that made it seem as though he badly wanted to believe it.
Howard pulled an electronic thermometer out of their first aid kit and tested Vince's body temperature which was back to normal.
"What do you say we go find that egg?" he said with a raised eyebrow and a challenging smile.
Vince's face flushed with gratitude towards Howard for him not pushing the issue at that time and in that place and he grinned his pointy smile.
"Sure thing,"
Author's note: If you've got this far, thank you for taking the time to read it!Please review! If anyone wants an extension to this story line by the way of back story or a continuation or anything, please just let me know and I will do my best to oblige.
I used the Friedrich Nietzsche quote as the title because I think it gives an explanation as to why Vince would have these sorts of issues and still be an abused child. I know it seems unrealistic but I've read weirder fanfictions and I'm sure you have too.
I feel it is at this point that I should mention that this has been written at three o'clock in the morn (yes, I said morn, which alone should be an indicator of how far gone my common sense is!) so please excuse any horrible errors. If you find any, please tell me and I will correct them as soon as I am alerted.
Any thoughts and comments are greatly appreciated but please no flames as they will be ignored or used to make toast, your pick.
Much love to all,
Missing Fairy.