So, the bastards had finally gotten him, eh? Vimes thought, bleeding to death in the alleyway. Damn good fighter, that crook. Bastard. Goodbye all, the commander has left the building. Vimes died.
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF ANKH-MORPORK COMMANDER SIR SAMUEL VIMES? said Death.
"Yes?"
ALL THAT?
"Fraid so."
I HAVE SOME GOOD NEWS.
"How could you have good news?" said Vimes, confused.
THERES NO NEED TO BE LIKE THAT.
"Sorry. I am dead, though."
ACTUALLY, YOU ARE, IN FACT, NOT DEAD. said Death. THAT IS THE GOOD NEWS.
"Not dead? But... you... I was stabbed... how?" Vimes stuttered.
WHEN SOMEONE HAS GIVEN THERE LIFE TO A CAUSE, I HAVE FOUND, THAT CAUSE LOOKS OUT FOR THEM. AND YOU HAVE GIVEN YOUR LIFE TO THE CITY. Death stepped aside. COMMANDER VIMES, MEET ANKH-MORPORK.
A huge woman in a green dress wielding a trident sized dinner fork smiled down on Vimes. "I give back to those who give to me, commander. Thank you." She leaned down and placed a single kiss upon his forehead. "Keep up the good work." Vimes gaped. Death pulled out a lifetimer marked Samuel Vimes, which was now filling up with a blue light, and grinned.
"Sir? Sir! He's waking up!" The voice of Littlebottom called out. "Sir, are you all right? We need to get you to Igor right away!"
"Thank you, Corporal. Please do."
"Sir, you looked like you were dead!"
"I think I was..." Vimes mumbled, as Carrot lifted him onto a stretcher.
"What, sir?" Carrot asked.
"I guess I wasn't," Vimes replied.