Afterglow.

Hello! I'm baaaaaa-aaaaaack! Ahem. This is a sequel to my story Vainglorious. You don't have to have read it- but sure it helps. Basically, as we speak, Vimes is in a relationship with 71-Hour Ahmed, but he was married to Sybil. That's pretty much all you need to know to make any sense of this chappie. Yes, obviously, there is slash. But it's very, very tame, so even if you don't like it give this a try….I'm a review junkie! I'd like to take this opportunity to greet what I hope is a small but loyal band of reviewers from Vainglorious. waves Anyway, this chapter is just setting the scene, much more interesting stuff will be along later. But read it, there's some funny moments…I hope. NYA

O yeah- this is dedicated to Enelya Aldarion. I told 'em a chain link fence wouldn't hold rhinos! Oh wait, no I didn't. I meant to tell 'em! .

Disclaimer. Does Vimes run around the Discworld books without his shirt on? No? I probably don't own him then. Yet.

Chapter One- Volte Face

Sir Samuel Vimes, Commander of the Ankh-Morpork Watch, took off his helmet and smoothed down his hair. Somewhat absurdly, he was nervous. Nervous of returning to a place he had called home for four years. How ridiculous.

He pushed the doorbell firmly. A tuneless jangle rang out but was abruptly cut off as the bell in its entirety fell off the door. A smile creased his features. Some things never changed.

There were sounds of a scuffle from within, then small yipping noises. Willikins the butler appeared, red-faced yet remarkably composed given the small dragon clamped resolutely to his leg.

'Ah, sir Samuel. Her ladyship is expecting you.'

Vimes entered, wiping his boots respectfully on the mat, placing his helmet on the hall table with the easy gestures of familiarity. He looked up into his own face- and his insides briefly writhed with guilt. Sybil hadn't taken down the portrait yet. It hung above the drawing room door, so that the pair of them, Sybil and Sam, beamed down upon every guest who entered. He looked so happy. He had been so happy. Willikins coughed politely, and Vimes shook himself out of his reverie, casting around for something to focus on to dispel the wave of nostalgia.

'Is that Lord Copperburn Wingspy Talonthrust the 7th?' Willikins nodded stiffly, surreptitiously shaking his leg in an effort to dislodge the creature. Vimes bent and stretched out a hand.

'Look, you just have to tickle him. He's a big softy really.' Straightening up with the dragon purring contentedly under his arm, he caught Willikins' disapproving look.

'Where is Sybil, anyway?'

'Her ladyship is in the Terribly Tangerine Drawing Room.'

'The what? Ye Gods Willikins, sometimes I think you make these names up!'

'It's been repainted,' the Butler replied stiffly, opening a door and ushering Vimes inside. Vimes first impression was that a swamp dragon had been lying in wait, and had flamed into his face. The room was indeed, a terribly violent shade of orange. Lady Sybil was inside, in full and majestic rant at a small and surly looking dwarf, who was holding a dripping orange paintbrush and contriving to look even smaller and surlier than he already was.

'Hwhat did you think you were doing?! I said peach! Apricot at the most! Not tangerine!' The dwarf muttered something.

'Not your job to think, man? We'll see about that!' She turned, chestnut curls bouncing around her head, the light of battle in her eyes, and spotted Vimes. Sybil's rage melted like an ice cube under a blowtorch.

'Sam!' she exclaimed delightedly. 'How lovely to see you. Tea?' Relinquishing the dwarf, who scuttled away, she embraced Vimes and, seizing his arm, piloted him onto the garden terrace, where a table was set for two. It reminded Vimes forcibly of that evening, so long ago, when he had proposed to her. But he was not here to dwell on happy memories. They sat down and Sybil poured, beaming with genuine warmth. Yet Vimes, who knew her well, could sense the expectancy beneath her façade. He drank tea for a while, cursing his cowardice. In the end, Sybil spoke.

'How is Ahmed?' Vimes nearly choked on a sugar biscuit.

'Harumph, sorry, ahem. Yes. He's fine. He's gone back to Klatch for a while. Left this morning, actually.'

'Oh, I know. Judith told me in her last letter. They're going to get everything sorted out, money, estates, you know. Apparently they've been in quite friendly contact, which is nice. What?' Vimes, ignoring the part about 'friendly contact', was staring at her in disbelief.

'You…you are writing to the woman who tried to kill me?'

'She is my sister, Sam. And you did steal her husband. And I know what it's like to lose someone you care about…unexpectedly.' There was a pregnant pause. To avoid her eyes, and making a valiant attempt to tune into planet normal, Vimes found himself looking at Sybil's dress. It was a rather pretty blue summer one that he hadn't seen before. And now he thought of it, Sybil was different, too. There seemed to be less of her, for one thing.

'Sybil, have you…lost weight?' Her once so familiar face was thinner, but she still blushed the same way. Expansively. There was plenty of blush to go around.

'Well, yes, actually. I have been on a little diet. But all that has to stop now.' She patted her stomach.

'Well, yes, exactly. You're fine just the way you are.'

'Um…' Vimes was surprised to see that she suddenly looked awkward. 'That too, I suppose. But I meant something else, you see…' she looked at him meaningfully, but Vimes' face was radiating bafflement.

'When I said new beginnings, earlier, I wasn't just talking about the drawing room. Though that is part of it.' She paused again. Vimes was completely lost. What on earth did the drawing room have to do with Sybil's stomach? 'Well, Sam, not to put too fine a point on it, I'm making the drawing room into a nursery.'

'For the baby dragons?'

'No, Sam. For my baby. I'm pregnant.