Note: This scene will seem a bit incomplete. This is intended. For one thing, I never could figure out what Vetinari was talking to Downey about...come up with your own ideas. The second reason is that I think that's how it should be...I mean, who knows what the Assassins are up to that might mean something to the city in a BIG way? Only Vetinari, right? Who wants to be bothered? Well, everyone, but not everyone NEEDS to be. Anyway, enjoy! Also, I decided that The Truth happened about a year before Night Watch, and Night Watch was about two-three years before Making Money. So THIS is about...Sybil is just starting to show. About then. So about 6 months before Night Watch.
Next morning, at just before nine, Vimes tapped on the Patrician's door. A less clear 'come in' than usual told him that yes, the Patrician would need his help today. And a lot of it.
Havelock Vetinari, ruler of the most powerful city on the Disc, was holding an ice cube to his cheek through a linen cloth, and was glaring at some paperwork. The bruise had spread from just his cheek to cover his jaw and went just under his eye as well. Vimes could tell the man's ribs were still wrapped because he was breathing more shallowly than usual. The wrapping on his hand, however, had been removed, and Vimes noted only a couple of bruises on the fingers.
"Are you alright, Sir?" Vimes asked, and risked meeting those ice cold blue eyes. They weren't gentle, they were harsh and annoyed, but not as penetrating or searching as usual. Pained actually, if you wanted to interpret it that way.
"Commander, yesterday, while you were angry with me, you said that I thought of everyone as pawns in my political game, and that I cared about no one unless they were important to the city."
The Patrician's voice was almost a whisper, and even so he flinched. But Vimes translated the murmur perfectly in his mind, having been by the man's side through being shot and poisoned.
He didn't reply though. The Patrician wasn't angry, not really. Otherwise there would have been a lot of sarcasm in that voice.
Vimes noticed that somewhere in Vetinari's small amount of speech, he had stood and made his way to the window. With his good side facing the door and Vimes, he still looked as imposing as ever. The swelling was gone now, but the bruising was going to interfere with his work, Vimes knew it.
Vetinari sighed and turned to look at him, his bruised side twitching in controlled pain.
"You were far from right, Vimes. I care a great deal about certain individuals, even if I don't show it. Is that clear, Vimes? I thought I had taught you that, that you knew that fact for certain. I was obviously incorrect. When mad, people often let slip things they truly believe," Vetinari whispered, and found Vimes at his side, silent and just as imposing as himself, in his own way. Vetinari smiled quickly, enjoying their contented, though not completely comfortable, silence. Vimes was uneasy, he knew. Probably because he was neither angry nor upset in any obvious way, but was obviously hurt by the accusation anyway.
He could get used to Vimes being called his Terrier. It wasn't far from being correct. Vimes was as close to a real friend as he got, Sybil being a woman and slightly intimidating to him, really.
Downey arrived at 9:30 sharp, to find Vetinari at the window, with Vimes standing by his side. Even from here, he could see the bruising on the Commander's face, and he could only estimate the bruising on Vetinari's to be far, far worse. He remembered well enough the day Vimes had caught him unawares and punched him a good one.
When Vetinari turned towards him, Downey visibly flinched. It looked like Vimes had really been furious, the bruising was far worse than even his had been. Then again...if Vimes had been in such a fit of temper to actually hit Vetinari, he must have been mad enough to kill the man.
"Ah, Lord Downey."
The Patrician's voice was just above a whisper, and it seemed that talking was causing him great pain. Much as Downey hated the Patrician...well, maybe just this once he could be the one to suggest something simpler.
"My Lord, perhaps, just this once, we dispense with formalities? I think I would rather get this done with quickly, if it's all the same to you, my Lord," the Assassin said calmly, looking at Vimes as the Watchman bristled.
"His Lordship will be talking through me, Downey. I ain't phrasing all his stuff as eloquently at him, so fill that in in your own head, but you'd better act like this is normal," Vimes growled, pushing off the wall as Vetinari sat down, using his cane almost imperceptibly. But Downey and Vimes were the two most perceptive civic leaders, and both shared a mildly concerned glance.
"Vimes...no need to be so harsh to him. Please, be seated gentlemen," Vetinari murmured, giving Vimes a sharp Look and then motioning to the two chairs. One was beside him, the other across from him.
Vimes and Downey sat obediently, Vimes listening for any word from the Patrician, who sat regarding Downey for a moment. Downey spoke first.
"Er...would you like an update on my Guild, or is this a social call, my Lord?" Downey asked, though he figured it would be neither. He'd been told a day in advance of his meeting with the Patrician. That meant something rather serious.
"Neither, Lord Downey. And yet...the first as well."
Vimes sighed, and translated. "It's sort of the first, but not really either."
Downey looked at Vetinari, confusion laid over his features. "Er...the update on my Guild would help with some plan or other? Or are you looking for some specific part of my update, that I might otherwise leave out?" he asked, his brow furrowing as the Patrician smiled benignly. A benign smile from that mouth turned into a crocodile's grin instantly.
"Oh, a little of both, Downey. A little of both."
This last was said just loud enough to send a shiver through the Assassin, who watched the ice-blue eyes in the same way a trapped wolf might watch the hunter. The trapped maimed wolf, who was also blind and old.
"Oh...er. As you wish?"
Vimes straightened stiffly, watching Vetinari as he limped heavily over to the window, smiling in that dark, cold way of his that meant he was actually rather disappointed.
"Sir?"
Vetinari turned to look at him briefly, bruised side hidden from view as he raised his eyebrow in acknowledgment, the same way Vimes might grunt when he was called upon. A small frown curved the thin lips, curious and showing the disappointment.
"Er...about earlier..."
How did you apologize for decking the most important man in the city? And how did you apologize for - and the words were strange to think, let alone say – hurting his feelings? Vimes knew, in some small, detached way, that Vetinari did care. Even before this he knew that, the man got disappointed and angry...and sad. He'd seen Vetinari sad before, hadn't he? Yes...he couldn't remember when, but he had. At some point.
Vetinari was still looking at him, but the gaze had softened a bit.
Vimes decided to floor it.
"If you tell Sybil what I'm about to say, I'll punch you again," he growled, glaring at Vetinari, who carefully made his face blank and nodded. Amusement...he'd forgotten that. Vetinari was actually amused quite easily, he just didn't show it the same way other people did.
"As you wish, Sir Samuel."
Vimes growled. "Is that in the context of you not telling her, or that I'll punch you if you do?" he snarled.
Vetinari caught the look and sighed, turning to face the city. Vimes noticed, perhaps belatedly, that he'd hurt the man's...feelings, again.
"Neither and both, Vimes. I'm acknowledging that the consequence seems reasonable, based on what I think you're going to tell me," Vetinari murmured, rubbing his jaw gently. He flinched once, but Vimes ignored it, for the man's benefit.
"Fine. Sir, I'm sorry for what I said. I was angry, feeling rather unappreciated, and...my wife had just told me that you're going to be the kid's godfather,"
Vetinari hid the surprise pretty well. He'd choked, and turned it into genuine coughing, and then leveled his voice out by the time he was done hacking up a lung.
"Sybil said what?"
The voice was hoarse now, on top of being very quiet, and Vimes smiled to have surprised the man so well.
"She said it was an irrefutable fact. Our child is going to be your godchild. You know, if anything happens to us, you take care-"
"I know what the job entails, Vimes," Vetinari cut in smoothly, his voice very quiet, and still a little hoarse, though the tone had returned to normal. He was certainly dealing with it better than Vimes had.
"I was merely confirming that I heard correctly. Why?"
Vetinari's eyes radiated his curiosity, and Vimes sighed and sat back down. Vetinari came over to the chairs stiffly, and nearly stumbled when he came to sit. Vimes noted absently, while he helped the man into his chair, that his bad leg was shaking horribly, probably from the strain.
"She said that since you were such a great man and the most powerful man in the city, you should be able to take care of the kid. Oh, and that if you tried to raise it by babysitter, she would come back from the grave and throttle you."
Both men sat in silence, Vetinari tapping his cane absently as they both pictured this scene. Vimes grimaced, while Vetinari frowned thoughtfully.
"A circumstance I'm sure we'd all like to avoid," the Patrician said after awhile, and Vimes nodded sullenly.
"Anyway...that's why I got so mad, and why I said those things. I don't want you to forgive me, I just wanted to apologize, in case I might have...insulted you, Sir."
Vetinari nodded thoughtfully. "As you wish, Vimes. Would you stay for a few more appointments? Between my ribs and jaw, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up even this level of speech," Vetinari queried, returning to business and throwing Vimes off for a moment. Then the Commander shrugged.
"As you wish, Sir. Er...who would be next? So I know who to smirk at, or sneer, or snap at for you," Vimes asked, smiling as the Patrician twitched a smile.
"Lord Rust, if you're so interested."
Vetinari kept his face perfectly blank, but his blue eyes were amused, especially when he watched Vimes grin in delight.
Today might turn out well after all.
