Disclaimer: Terry Pratchett doesn't write slash fanfics, does he?
AN: Night Watch fic. Sam Vimes has sex with… er… Sam Vimes.
"Sarge," young Sam Vimes burst out, suddenly, "what would you do if you thought you were, say, gay?"
Commander Sam Vimes of Ankh-Morpok City Watch, a.k.a. Sergeant-at-arms John Keel and young Sam's future, kept walking. At least, his feet did. Mentally, he had stopped very abruptly. "I'd probably try to find out if I was, Vimes. And then try to deal with it. Why?"
"No reason," muttered Sam, and Vimes wondered whether his suspicions were right. "Just wondering."
They walked a little further.
"Sarge?"
"Yes, lad?" replied Vimes.
"Ned says I look like you."
"Oh?"
"But," Sam frowned, "I don't think I do."
Vimes smiled. "You could be right, lad." Then again, you could be wrong. Very wrong indeed.
Later that evening, Vimes found himself taking Sam to an empty house in Easy Street. The boy had finally confessed, and both young Sam and Vimes were in a state of shock. The boy had feelings for him? That was revolting! But, as Vimes thought about it, he wondered if perhaps it wasn't.
The boy had feelings for him? Was that so revolting?
Later, Vimes would blame the fact that both he and Sam were in shock for the events that happened that night, but, at that moment in time, Vimes felt perfectly conscious and, as the night proceeded, blissfully happy. Teaching Sam 'how to deal with it' was a very pleasant experience.
When Sam's watch told them it was time for work, Vimes was very disappointed. He'd discovered how doubly sexy his younger self had actually been, and wanted to discover more, and more… But Captain Tilden would be waiting, and he couldn't have that. Not on his second day.
Sam and Vimes strolled down to Treacle Mine Road easily, and Vimes thought about last night. What would you call that sort of thing, anyway? Maybe he was – he laughed at the new word – suisexual.
And then, with a twinge of guilt, he thought about Sybil. Was he betraying her, by sleeping with himself?
Of course not, a part of his brain told him. You sleep with yourself every night.
Not like that, you don't, replied the other part.
Well, you're not betraying her, because you did it long before you knew Sybil. And Sybil will never know anyway, will she?
If he'd been sitting down, Vimes would have shifted uncomfortably. As it was, he strolled on.
Sybil had an amazing womanly talent for finding out things that she shouldn't know about. It was disturbin-
The two Sams arrived at the watch house.
"Vimes?"
"Yes, sarge?"
"Don't mention what happened last night, please?"
"No, sarge."
Sam was ecstatic. Sarge had actually shown him 'how it's really done' and he was delighted.
In the first place, Sam hadn't made the first move, although he'd wanted to.
Secondly, Sergeant Keel had given him lessons in things he surely would never need, just for the pleasure of teaching him.
And thirdly, Sam had heard a distinct groan from sarge's direction when his alarm had gone off.
All in all, it had been a successful day. Very successful.
Oh – my - God. Sam shook with suppressed emotion. How could they do this to people?Sam shook with suppressed emotion. do
But the people… the people had been ordinary people on the hurry-up wagon. Sam had been on the hurry-up wagon, more than once, and he'd never asked what happened to those people he handed over. Those ordinary people.
There had been a woman in one of the cells, or Sam supposed she was a woman, that-
He couldn't even think it. It was too horrible.
He stumbled out of the rancid-smelling cell, and staggered back to where he had left Sergeant Keel. Maybe sarge could help – at least offer some comfort, to Sam or to the prisoners, it didn't really matter.
"Oh, sarge!"
Sam looked up, feeling a little dazed. People were still fighting, all round him. Where was Sergeant Keel? He looked around.
"Sarge!" He was lying on the ground, blood encrusting him. "Sarge! Speak to me, sarge, say something! Anything!" Sam shook his Sergeant roughly. "S-sarge?" The body was cold.
So cold… so very cold…
Like Sam. Or maybe it was just Sam that was cold? He cautiously touched the body again.
Absolutely freezing…
He shouldn't be that cold, should he? He was shivering, and his fingers were colder than Sergeant Keel's. He shook.
So cold…
Or was that Sergeant Keel? He had the eye-patch and the scar, true, and the clothes were right, but the face wasn't, and he seemed too tall, even lying on the ground. And the wounds looked a bit old… or was he hallucinating?
So cold…
And his hero was … dead.
So cold… Just so cold…
"Sarge?" he whispered as he fell. It was probably his imagination that caused the gentle caress of his face.
Commander Vimes stared at the grave – his grave, in a way - without really seeing it.
History finds a way.
Yes, his memories were clear, and real. Well, there was one new memory…
And he was glad he had it.
AN: Read, review, don't flame...