Disclaimer: C'mon, I'm just a fan, I respect TP. The Discworld and the watch are his…but I guess I betta keep hold of the DeLancey's. Not that anyone'd want them. You'd be more twisted than me if you did…okay, stopping now.
Rating – PG-13 for some violence…cuz we like it dark.
Setting: Let's say a coupla months after Fifth Elephant – cuz, after all, I've only read up to 'The Truth'. (I do love TP so, but alas, my funds do not stretch to buying hardbacks ;-)
Note: A quick little something, not my best work, but an idea I've had for a while.
The hilarity of the Discworld has to be the main reason for loving them it so much, but I confess to having a serious weakness for Vimes when he gets all dark and broody over the less funny crimes of Ankh Morpork. .
Erm, you may notice a bit of an Angua/Vimes slant too. If you don't like, you can ignore it.
And, if people want me to continue, I plan to bring up the woman who 'brung low' Vimes too …so go on, R/R
Vimes had been sitting at his desk for the past hour, part of which he'd been doing nothing else but listen to the continual hum of conversation from beyond his door. Of course, there was always the occasional horrified shriek when some eight foot, coked-up troll, covered in the blood of all six men he'd been in a brawl with, was brought in, and was faced with Nobby. But then the poor lad had that effect on people.
For a while, Vimes had mused over how times had changed, how full and busy the watch house was now, how different it was back in the days, when, well…when things had been a little lonelier. Before Carrot, whose size was only matched by that unnerving charisma. Before they'd started recruiting all manner of creatures. Before Sybil…
He was going to be a father. Soon. Gods knew how he felt about that, because quite frankly he couldn't even bring himself to think about it. Vimes didn't like surprises, and fatherhood would be one hell of a surprise.
No, he liked to leave his paternal anxieties at home. Where Sybil was, and all her preparations, all her lady friends hovering around with colour schemes for the nursery, and publications with disturbing names like "Newe Mother" and "Babey & You." Recently, Vimes had been quite content to leave Sybil to her world, while he stayed here, with his.
The fact that he hadn't had anything to do other than ignore a lot of paperwork all day wasn't important. He was still here, still in his element. He was Vimes here. Just Vimes.
There was a loud rap on the door, before Angua burst in, all wild-eyes, blonde locks and heaving -ahem. Vimes stopped himself there.
"Carrot just sent word by Clacks - DeLancey was spotted on the edge of the Shades."
Vimes was up in a second, grabbing his sword as he followed her out.
"Is he in pursuit-" but the feral look in her eyes told him he needn't have asked. Carrot was going to get himself in trouble. She was undoubtedly doing everything she could to stay in control and not tear over there straightaway without him.
Vimes admired that, and quickly nodded his awareness of urgency.
"Let's go". He said quietly. As they set off out the door quickly, Vimes motioned to a couple of anonymous watchmen to follow.
~ ~ ~
So, DeLancey was back. It had been well over a month since they'd got the call to the DeLancey estate. 'New Money' they might be, but a mansion was still a mansion, and a Lord was still a lord, no matter who'd been bribed for the title. It was therefore a little unusual to call the Watch, but as they had, the Commander himself had had to make an appearance. But he refused to wear his dress uniform. Tights and police work didn't go.
Vimes had known something was seriously wrong though, from the minute they were let inside. This wasn't a simple case of somebody pinching the silverware. Lady DeLancey had seen them. A proud old lady certainly, but unusually for the rich, Vimes could see some decency, and some intelligence in her grey eyes. She and her husband had been in Sto Lat - perhaps that was why the son thought he could get away with it. But she had returned home early with matters to attend to. She had found the house empty, the servants sent home. Most of them…
The girl had been brought forth, supported by another servant. One look in her eyes, at the bruises, and the torn dress, and Vimes had the entire night shift out searching for Marc DeLancey. Everybody had stayed out of his way that night. Angua had been with him for most of it. She shared his anger, but Vimes half-suspected Carrot had asked her to stay with him, just in case DeLancey had been brought in. In case Vimes did something stupid.
He'd got away. But now, stupidly, he'd come back. Vimes felt more than the rush of the chase that night as Angua caught up the trail. It was the cold, grim desire for justice that got him. No-one got away with that in his city. Just because he was some rich socialite, thinking he owned everything and every-one. No, not in his city. She was barely sixteen for godsdamns sake.
He felt his blood run cold as they ran though the shadowed streets.
He ignored the feeling of Angua's eyes on him, the werewolf easily picking up when Vimes' moods turned dangerous.
It concerned her sometimes, just how much she could see of herself in him.
~ ~ ~
They'd found Carrot about ten minutes later, though Angua had picked up the scent of blood far earlier. It was bad, no point in pretending it wasn't, but he was alive. The other fairly young watchmen had grown pale as Angua had collapsed down beside Carrot's pale form, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood from the wound in his side, sobbing unashamedly for the man she loved.
Vimes had leant down, placing a hand on her shaking shoulders in an uncharacteristically sensitive gesture.
"Let these two take him back – Igor will fix him up, but he needs to go now."
She had looked up at him with vulnerable eyes. Something stirred in him slightly at that.. it took him back all too clearly to when she'd been weeping in the hall of the embassy in Uberwald, after the fight with her brother. He'd been fairly inadequate as a consoler then, not used to dealing with upset, and admittedly naked, young ladies. This time he was in the mood for a chase. She could see the grim determination in his face. She recognised the hunt in his eyes.
She nodded, and allowed the two nervous watchmen to take over, and try and drag Carrot back to the Watch house.
Then the two of them had ran on into the night, the werewolf following the scent of Carrot's blood on top of DeLancey's…
~ ~ ~
Another ten minutes and they had him cornered in a warehouse. Unfortunately, they'd also got separated. Angua cursed to herself for letting Vimes out of her sight. She could smell danger coming, Vimes couldn't.
Then a part of her remembered Vimes' mood. He would be alert enough to spot DeLancey coming at him all right – but she feared whether DeLancey would be able to spot Vimes…
Of course, she shared the Commander's hatred of this man, for what he had done to that girl, to the others who had slowly started coming forward, each with their own all-too-familiar stories. Not to mention what he had done to Carrot.
But she couldn't kill him, no matter how much she wanted to. She knew that would be a betrayal of Carrot's beloved principles.
And she couldn't let Vimes do it, because she knew it would be a betrayal of his. Samuel Vimes was not a man you gave an opportunity for self-loathing to. The guilt would eat away at him ever after. She knew his type. There was a line you couldn't cross.
Her sensitive hearing picked up the rush of movement even before she heard the thud of something hard on flesh, and Vimes' yell. She ran up the nearby stairs two at a time, with a sinking dread of yet another person she cared about being hurt by this man.
But coming out onto a wide open level, she found her fears were needless. Whatever blow DeLancey had dealt Vimes, it had only made him madder. The two were wrestling on the floor, on the far side of the room at the foot of another staircase. This certainly wasn't fisticuffs. They were dealing each other blows in a messy mix of fists and kicks, the fighting that only came through intense hatred on both sides.
As she ran across the space between them, she watched with horror as Vimes suddenly gained the upper hand, and sat astride the young noble, hitting his face in a terrible non-stop torrent of blows. Angua couldn't make much sense of his cries, only a chilling repetition of "A child…only a child…" as he just kept on hitting…
He was so worked up he didn't even notice her approaching, and struggled against her instinctively as she grabbed his arms from behind, trying to pull him off the now still and bloodied form beneath him.
Full of adrenalin he whirled around and pinned her against the wall, his fist already drawn back to strike.
"Sam!"
Her cry rang out loud and clear, drawing his frenzied eyes back into focus. He saw her wide eyes staring back at him, then thebloodied fist he had been about to swing around, and finally the arm he had pressed harshly across her neck.
"Oh Gods." He whispered quietly, and backed off swiftly, clumsily. His stomach lurched at what he had been about to do. It didn't help then, when he saw the bloody mess on the floor that was formally Marc DeLAncey.
"Oh Gods." he said again.
Angua rubbed her tender throat, watching him stand there weakly. The wolf inside her reared at the small around her. There was so much blood, She thought, before realising that most of it wasn't on the body, but all over Vimes' hands, his shirt, his face…
She watched the horror on his face, watched as he looked down in a daze at his blood-red hands.
She knew then, that the line had been crossed.
Any more for any more?
R/R