The day of the wedding, Sam almost committed murder. The night of the wedding, Sam couldn't bring himself to touch his new wife. But something other than guilt is stopping him. A buried trauma bars him from giving Sybil the intimacy she deserves.

Vimes sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. He had tried to drive away the fear and the horrible images in his head. Normally he could push past fear. It was something a watchman had to be good at, but this was different. Sybil lay on the bed with her blouse open watching her new husband cautiously.

Have I done something wrong? Sybil thought. I know tacky romance novels are labeled fiction for a reason, but I wasn't even going to try any of that, at least not the first time that is.

She had thought it was cute when Sam insisted on celibacy before marriage. It was the kind of romantic gesture that she had always wanted, but now she worried that it might have been more than just cold feet.

"Just lie down," said Sybil. "We don't need to do anything tonight. We'll have loads of other chances now that we're married." She tried to smile to put him at ease, but she was so concerned and the smile wouldn't come.

Sam was shaking, and not in the nervous virgin kind of way. Sybil knew that her husband had at least two partners before her. He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the bedclothes.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I… I'm sorry." He rose from the bed and walked toward the door. His steps were short and deliberate. His whole body looked as if the only thing he wanted was to curl up in a little ball. This is impossible while standing, but Sam gave it a good effort.

"Sam…" Sybil moved to stand up. Samuel froze for a moment before rushing out of the room.

Sybil clamored out of the bed and ran after him. She glanced up and down the hallway. The door to the Tan Office was open. She hesitated before she crept silently through the hallway. Even before she reached the door, she could hear the sound of her husband's irregular breathing. Sybil paused at the threshold. She wanted to enter, to comfort him, and to hold him until his pain went away, but something made her hesitate.

Even though the door was open, she gently knocked on the door frame. She heard Sam gasp. His breathing became shallow and rapid. Sybil could see a sliver of her new husband's face in the opening where the door was attached to the wall. She sat down outside and leaned against the wall. She waited for his breathing to even out.

"Sam," she whispered. The word was so quiet that for a moment she didn't know if he had heard it.

"I'm sorry," he said in a voice equally hushed. "I'm sorry."

Sybil didn't ask what he was sorry for. At this moment, it didn't matter. She only wanted her husband to calm down. It was time to employ her own version of 'act now, ask questions later.'

"I… I'm sorry too… I didn't know it would affect you like this… I… I should have paid better attention."

Behind the door, Sam choked. He slammed his fist on the door shutting it loudly. Sybil winced at the sudden noise. She could hear Sam sobbing.

"I…"

"Just go away," he shouted, but the sound was muffled.

Sybil tried to remember what was in the Tan Office. It wasn't a room she normally used, but there shouldn't be anything particularly sharp in there. She weighted her options and decided to trust her husband for a few minutes. She got up and walked back to the bedroom. She picked up a blanket and pillow off the bed and returned to the hallway. As she approached the door, Sam's crying abruptly stopped and returned to the same shallow breathing as before. Sybil laid the blanket and pillow on the floor outside the office and sat down again. She sighed and crawled under the covers determined to sleep there the whole night if she had to.

"You don't have to do that, Sybil," said Sam.

"I want to."

Sam went silent. Every so often, Sybil could hear his breath catch. She placed her hand on the door. It made a tiny click as the lock shifted in its enclosure. She didn't have to ask, the soft sound did the talking for her.

The door opened a fraction. Sybil nudged it a bit further. The lamps in the hall sent a streak of light across the Tan Office.

She waited for a moment before pushing the door open a little bit more until she could see her husband again through the crack at the hinges. Sam was breathing normally now. It was a good sign but Sybil still felt the need to hold back the urge to run to him. It was agonizing.

"I'll… go get you a blanket. I'll be right back."

She tottered off down the hall. Hundreds of horrible images flashed through her head.

Why? He's always so brave. What could have happened to make him react this way?

When Sybil returned, she noticed a small quivering light in the Tan Office. Her first thought was that he had lit a cigar, but as she got closer she noticed the scent of wax. Sybil smiled sadly, sat down by the door again, and waited. She heard her husband move on the floor on the other side of the door. His fingers slid into view. They were shaking.

"Could…I…" he whispered uncertainly.

Sybil handed him the edge of the blanket before Sam had a chance to have second thoughts. The fabric slowly disappeared into the barely lit room. The door opened with the pressure of the moving blanket. She watched Sam for a moment. He had left the blanket on the floor, but still held on to it with one hand. He was staring at it with unseeing eyes.

Sybil could barely stand it anymore.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

Sam nodded almost imperceptibly. Sybil's heart snapped. She hurried into the room and held her husband tightly as if he was the only thing stopping her from disappearing. Silently, she began to cry. She could feel Sam tense up. For a moment she thought he was going to run again. He didn't relax or even hug her back. He simply put his head on her shoulder. Before long, she felt a trickle of water on her collar.

Sybil pulled a piece of the blanket onto Sam's shoulder. His breathing stopped and he forcefully pulled it back down again. His head hadn't moved but she could tell he was debating running away. His body had frozen even stiffer than before.

He's scared. Something has frightened him more than death.

She stayed completely still and kept calm. Though her heart raced in a desperate wish, she acted just the same way as she had before she moved the blanket. Slowly, she felt the weight of Sam's head return to her shoulder. Sybil's arm was falling asleep but she didn't care. She would stay in that position forever if it meant he would feel safe.


Sybil awoke in the early morning. Stars still glittered in the sky valiantly constructing defenses against the inevitable attack from the overly cheerful armies of dawn.

Sam was gone.

Sybil started to panic as troubling thoughts surfaced in her mind. She paused. The pale early morning light glinted off a metal object on the desk. Sybil guessed what it was even before she picked it up. Sam had left his badge with her. She held it firmly in both hands.

She searched the desk for a note, anything that could tell her where he had gone, but there was nothing.

She brought the badge with her to the window and examined it. The number 177 was engraved on the back. It truly was his. Sybil looked out at the city. The people had finished their late night activities and only a few exceptionally eager tradesmen had started their day.

"Does this mean he'll come back, or is it some sort of farewell gift?" Sybil stood and stared at the token her husband had left her. "This badge means everything to Sam. He wouldn't leave it here if he just wanted to skip town. He can't just stop being a watchman. It's part of who he is. He would rather die than…"

She couldn't even finish the sentence. She ran down the hallway fighting the fear that was slowly consuming her. When she reached the door, she suddenly remembered what she was wearing, or rather not wearing. Sybil dashed back up to the bedroom. By the time she was dressed, Willikins had appeared, disheveled in his nightshirt.

"Is something the matter, Lady Sybil?" he asked still shaking off the haze of an interrupted night's sleep. When he saw Sybil's face, he immediately sprang to attention.

"Sam's gone!" she said. "If he's not at the Watch House, then I'm sure something horrible has happened. Help me with the carriage."


Sybil burst through the doors of Pseudopolis Yard. An unlucky Sergeant Colon was on duty. He froze in his seat and glanced around furtively. Sybil dropped her hands on the desk with an audible thud and glared a Colon with the ferocity of a hyena.

"Where's Sam?" she said in the same tone of voice that Vimes used when interrogating particularly belligerent suspects.

"I… uh, he… went on patrol?" Colon said hopefully.

Sybil leaned over the desk and grabbed Sergeant Colon by his collar.

"You damn well better tell me now or I'm calling my dragons. Madame Philomena Piffyphelps has had quite a trying week and she tends to get aggressive with strangers."

"HewentupstairswithKnobby! Don'thurtmeplease!"

Sybil climbed the stairs with purpose. She spotted a very unfortunate Knobby Knobbs in the hallway and came down on him like a two ton griffon. Knobby squeaked and tried to run away but Sybil caught him.

"Where is he?" She whispered slowly in his ear. The sound sent shivers down his spine as if they had been spoken by the Patrician himself. He pointed to a door two rooms away and disappeared down the steps.

Sybil knocked on the door lightly. There was no answer. She slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open a crack. A man lay on a bunk on the far side of the room. Though he faced the wall, she could tell it was Sam. The room rank of alcohol.

Sybil sighed with relief. He was alive, drunk off his arse by the smell of it, but alive. She wanted to sit by his bed and be there when he woke up. She wanted to hold him and tell him to come back home. She wanted to hug him and never let go, but she didn't. With great reluctance, she shut the door.

Sybil leaned her back against the wall until her heart rate returned to normal. A sudden bubble of anger swelled up inside her. She wanted to yell at him for making her worry and for breaking his promise, but she knew this was probably the worst time to do that.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and forced herself to go downstairs. Colon and Knobby were gone. Sybil sat in the chair behind the desk and glared at the ceiling. She took out Sam's badge and held it in her hands. Her chest hurt so much. Sam was suffering and there was very little she could do about it, but that feeling of utter uselessness was swept to the side by red frustration. This whole situation had played upon her nerves and now she was angry. Her head was full of questions and Sam had kept her in the dark for too long.

"I'm not going to take this anymore. Kindness can only go so far."

She abruptly stood up and stomped outside. Willikins had stayed with the carriage. He looked up when he heard her coming, but looked away when he saw her face. Whether Sam was in the Watch House or not didn't matter right now. The expression on her face clearly communicated that she was not in the mood to talk about it.


Sybil was in the bedroom. From the crack under the door she could see the shadows of Sam's feet shuffle back and forth in the hallway. Part of her was overjoyed that Sam was feeling guilty about what he had done. The rest of her wanted nothing more than to strangle him. She waited impatiently.

There was a tentative knock on the door.

"Come in," said Sybil dryly.

Sam sat down in a chair opposite his wife. Her face was unreadable.

"Samuel, you owe me an explanation."

Sam stared at the wall a few inches above her head and remained silent. Sybil stood up and leaned in close to her husband.

"Don't you dare treat me like the Patrician!" said Sybil.

Sam didn't answer. He looked through her. His mind was in an entirely different place. Maybe it was trying not to exist. Sybil scowled and headed for the door. She heard Sam's breath stop behind her.

"No," he said and grabbed the back of her shirt. He immediately let go as if the fabric was on fire. He even rubbed his hand like he had been burnt. He looked at the floor. "I'll do it. I'll do what you want."

Sybil stared as the frightened man in front of her walked towards the bed like a prisoner to the gallows. He removed his watchman's armor and boots. There were buttons on his shirt but he was shaking too much to undo them.

Sybil placed a hand on his. Sam wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Come with me," she said.

She led Sam into the Tan Office and instructed him to sit behind the door where he was last night. He seemed to relax a little now that they were out of the bedroom. Even though sunlight was shining through the window, Sybil lit a candle and placed it where it had been before. She sat down beside her husband.

"Tell me," she said. "How many partners have you really had?"

"Four and a half."

"Half?

"I found out she was a man the hard way."

"You told me you had a girlfriend when you were sixteen."

"It didn't last. We were both still children. It was right before May."

"The other one, you were twenty-two, you said."

"She was amazing… but it didn't work out."

"How?"

"I'd rather not say."

She waited. She didn't need to prompt him.

"She was thin and sickly. Each time I was with her, I feared I would break her."

"And?"

"I had been a watchman for years by then. I didn't survive that long by being gentle." Sam's voice came out in a low monotone like someone delivering a report. "She would do things, little things that got on my nerves. I was angry at her but I held it inside. I knew what I could do to people when I get lost my temper." He paused and stared at the candle for a moment. "One day, it all just became too much. I… I hurt her badly. She left. I didn't try to stop her. She deserved better."

Sam sat up straight. He stared at the wall with the eyes of an officer.

"The third… she…"

Sam's fortitude shattered. He hugged his knees and swallowed hard trying not to cry. Sybil took hold of his hand and rubbed her thumb against his palm.

"I was walking home. There was a group of men… and… a woman… I was terrified. I felt naked without my uniform and equipment… I ran. I left her there with them." Sam's voice became a tiny whisper. "I let her die. I killed her."

Sam choked and started to cry again. He took gasping breaths, trying to calm himself. He squeezed Sybil's hand. It hurt but she didn't care.

"The woman's sister found me later. She said I was a monster. She said I was just like them. I could have attacked those men, given her time to escape, but I was a coward! She… showed me what her sister felt like in her last moments. She did those things to me that her sister had to endure. I let her. It was what I deserved."

Sam sobbed. He couldn't speak anymore and could barely breathe. He hugged Sybil with all of his considerable strength. She let him crush her for a moment before speaking up.

"You're not going to drown or anything. I'm right here. Let me hold you instead."

Sam instantly let go of her and scrabbled away horrified at what he had done.

"I… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," he said and pulled his knees up to his chest with his back to her.

Sybil made a split second decision which in the long run probably wasn't the smartest thing to do but she was sick of being patient. It was a risky move that could leave a lasting mark on their relationship if it went poorly. Sybil crawled up behind Sam and grabbed him roughly in a backwards bear hug that pinned his arms to his sides. Sam kicked and pushed out on her arms trying to break her ridged grasp. He shoved his head backwards into where a normal attacker's nose would be, but Sybil had been ready for that. She had bent her neck to one side and placed the blanket between them just in case. Sam bucked in an attempt to break her hold but Sybil resolutely clung to him.

Sam suddenly froze. His chest constricted and he let out a pained whine.

"I can't take it anymore!" he shouted. "Why are you doing this? It hurts!" Sybil kept her grip firm. "Stop it! Just go! It hurts!"

"No! I'm staying right here!" Sybil shouted with equal conviction. "You're not getting away!"

"Why me? You're rich! You could have chosen anyone!"

"I want you!"

"Please," he sobbed loudly. Each breath fought against him. "I can't take it!"

Sam whimpered in agony. His whole body convulsed as he pushed against her arms halfheartedly. He hunched his shoulders and leaned forward grasping his stomach and screaming.

Sybil did not let go. Sam could shout all he wanted but she was going to hang onto him until he calmed down. So far he hadn't hurt her.

That was where the risk lay. Sybil knew that if he struck her at this time, then she would have to leave him. She was well aware that Samuel was a violently dangerous man who had nearly murdered a man on their wedding day. If he could not distinguish her from a foe at a time like this, then she could not be near him. If he hit her out of fear and desperation, then she would not be able to let him close to her at the times when she would be vulnerable, at those times when she would need him most.

Sybil's arms were ready to fall apart by the time He relaxed enough for her to let him go.

Sam had not attacked her.

She rubbed her aching arms and stared at her husband accusingly. He was panting heavily and had snot coming out of his nose like a child. He sat looking at the floor blankly. Sybil grabbed the blanket and pillow she had left there that night. She lay down on her side so her stomach touched Sam's back and bent her knees. She curled herself around her husband in the same kind of horseshoe shape that a cat makes. Sam oozed from his sitting position to the floor. He let his body follow the mold Sybil had made for him like a set of spoons in a drawer. Sybil wrapped her arms around him gently. Sam's eyes glossed over. His body was completely limp. Someone else might have said he looked relaxed. Sybil knew better. She had all but fallen asleep when she heard a faint whisper from Sam. It was little more than a wheeze, but she listened nonetheless.

"I'm sorry…"

Sybil nuzzled the back of his neck.

"Thank you." She didn't say what she was thankful for. She wanted Sam to find that out for himself.

"It hurts…"

"I'm still not letting you go."

They both lay in silence for a few minutes.

"I have to pee," said Sam.

Sybil chuckled and squeezed his stomach.

"Hey! Don't—"

Sam scrambled out of her arms and bolted out of the room. She could hear him retching even from three rooms away. She chuckled and let her husband suffer his comeuppance.


Sam avoided her afterwards for a few hours while he tried to get over the effects of the hangover. He looked so sullen and wouldn't meet her eye. At first she gave him his space, but it was well into the afternoon and the subject of sleeping needed to be broached. Surprisingly, Sam came to her first.

"Sybil," he whispered. She could tell he was desperately trying to keep his voice level. "I… I'll…" He stammered then squared his jaw resolutely. He stood straight and became Samuel Vimes Captain of the Watch. "There is someone I must speak to first."

Sybil narrowed her eyes at him, but Captain Vimes was a man who could stare down the Patrician. Captain Vimes would not be dissuaded.

"I will not be visiting Mr. Bearhuggers."

Sybil sighed. Of course not. Watchmen aren't allowed to drink on the job.

"You don't want to barge in unannounced. Are you sure they won't be occupied?"

"I am completely positive that he won't be bothered by my visit."

"Will you be back?"

Captain Vimes began to melt away leaving Sam vulnerable. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes in an attempt to hold on to his stronger self.

"One hour… just one."

Sybil nodded. Sam walked unsteadily to the door, ran the last few feet, and escaped. He would run through the familiar cobbled streets and lose himself in the speed and adrenaline. He would run from his thoughts and fears. He would run until his legs collapsed and his breath lay stale. Captain Vimes had always been the one who chased the guilty. Tonight, Sam was the guilty one. Tonight, the watchman chased himself.

He ran to the Graveyard of the Small Gods, back in time to the man who shaped so much of him.


The hour passed. Sybil opened the front door to find Sam sitting on the steps.

"May I come in?" he asked softly.

Sybil pulled him inside and hugged him tightly.

"Always."