Contains spoilers for Jingo
(In Jingo, faced with a tough choice, Vimes went to Klatch. Somehow he managed to switch dis-organisers with the Vimes who stayed behind, and ended up hearing how he would have died.)
Lady Sybil was made of strong stuff, of course. She wasn't the type of woman to go to pieces if, say, a particularly explosive young dragon managed to burn down the fences separating the males and the females. If the whole household had to rush to the dragon stalls before the place blew up, she was the type of woman who would stand at the forefront, offering directions and encouragement as she waded into battle.
Likewise, she wasn't the type of woman who, upon learning she had been widowed, would lock herself weeping into her bedroom for the rest of her life, wearing nothing but black and refusing to open the curtains. That didn't mean she didn't cry, though, when the servants had retired and she was left alone without any socks to darn.
It was the dis-organiser that would set her off. Something had gone wrong with it, obviously, because it still thought Sam was alive. Only moments before Willikins broke the news it had been babbling about a meeting in Klatch, and it hadn't stopped since. It prattled on, informing the master it no longer had that he had appointments to attend, and even trips to go on. In another world, Sam had taken her to Uberwald.
In another world, the Watch had been left intact.
Lady Sybil had made it her mission over the past year to rebuild the Watch. The invaders hadn't been a problem, really – those the militia hadn't killed had ended up being sucked into the city, just like all the others over the years. Even the structural damage had been incorporated into city life – those piles of rubble not worth stealing had become part of the scenery, and holes on the walls had never bothered the Ankh-Morporkians. But the destruction of the Watch had been the lasting legacy of the war. The public may not have liked them, but they noticed they were gone. People might talk of statues or plaques, and in truth she was proud when they did, but to Lady Sybil's mind recruiting a new Watch was the only possible tribute to Sam.
Money went some way towards the task, naturally, but mostly it took time. Ankh-Morpork was full of followers, but leaders were lacking. While she couldn't expect to find one of the same calibre as Sam, she sometime despaired of finding anyone. A number of Ankh-Morpork's leading gentlemen called round expecting her to permit them to organise the repopulation of the watch, only to be met with an impeccably mannered but firm refusal. She knew she needed a man who knew the streets. She just didn't know where to find him.
She began interviewing for the Watch, and - despite the fact she had no official authority - no one tried to stop her. Perhaps people weren't quite sure whether the 'Duke' part mean leadership of the Watch was passed on like a normal title, and at any rate Havelock wasn't about to interfere. He'd had had his own troubles, of course, while Sam was dying, but he'd sent his condolences as soon as he was free, and she'd been unsurprised to find that he'd reinstated himself as leader. She'd been to see him a couple of times to update him about the appointments she'd made, and he'd nodded and said everything appeared to be satisfactory, but he hadn't made any motions towards relieving her of responsibility. And so she'd carried on, managing the Watch from a desk while Willikins was her man on the ground. Gradually the numbers had begun to swell, as people once again began to see law enforcement as a comparatively stable career. The orang-utan from the library had been the first to return, clutching a badge and accompanying Willikins on his first patrols.
Other had followed. Some she'd recognised as old watchmen who hadn't joined the fighting that widowed her, though she didn't mention it. Most, however, were new, and some were a real coup. An unpromising interview in a dingy bar at Biers hadn't yielded the zombie she'd gone to meet, but sipping her drink she'd caught the eye of the woman who would become Captain Sto Helit. Susan said later that she'd seen something of Sybil's pain, and it had made her stop for a moment. She proved to be a fantastic second to Willikins, and her street knowledge was unparalleled. If Susan wasn't first on the scene after a crime, it would be because she'd chosen not to be. Sometimes Sybil thought Susan actually arrived before the crime had been committed and just waited for it to catch her up.
And still the dis-organiser broke Sybil's heart with every announcement.
She'd kept it secret for months after Sam's death, but when she'd heard about the baby she couldn't bear it. Eventually she'd confided in Susan, who listened quietly and told her firmly that she had to get rid of the machine. Sybil knew she was right, but she kept it a little longer anyway, to check whether the baby had been born safely in the other reality. Now, though, she had run out of excuses to live with a foot in that world. Somewhere, out of reach, another Sybil was living with Sam and their baby. It was time to live her own life.
It was still light as she stood in Small Gods. She hadn't finished her paperwork, but suddenly she'd needed to step out right then to do what she had to. Staring at the headstone, she wondered what the other Sybil and Sam were doing, and whether they ever gave a thought to her. Gently, she placed the dis-organiser on the grave. She wasn't the type to talk to the air, but she placed her hand on the headstone for a moment as she knelt, imagining just for a moment that it was his hand.
As she stood, she heard a footstep behind her, and then Susan was there.
'Do you think it will be stolen?' asked Sybil.
'No,' said Susan. 'I don't think other people will even be able to see it. It's barely real, after all this time.'
Sybil gave a small sigh. 'Do you think they're really there, somewhere?'
Susan nodded. 'Somewhere.' She linked arms with Sybil, who stared for a moment longer at the dis-organiser. It seemed to be showing signs of life, and moments later the small hatch opened.
'Bingely-bingely beep,' said the imp. 'Six pee em – read to young Sam.'
Sybil smiled sadly. 'I wonder if he made it.'