Title: Talk of the Town

Pairing: H. Vetinari/Sybil Ramkin/Sam Vimes (kind of!)

Rating: K+

Summary: After a brief relationship at the end of Guards! Guards! Sam ends things with Sybil. Sybil's rebound will have repercussions far beyond Sam's wildest imagination.

This is slightly AU, the characters are perhaps slightly parodied.

Read with tongue firmly in cheek.

Lady Sybil Ramkin surveyed herself in the full-length mirror dispiritedly. The gown she had chosen was a rich blue, off the shoulder style and one of her many pieces of antique jewellery glittered around her neck. Her makeup drew out the brown of her eyes, emphasizing her strong features. Her body was dressed, but her mind was not. She really did not feel like going to the dinner that evening. She knew she was at serious risk of falling into what could only be described as pining, something she would never have thought in a million years she would do. She supposed the heart felt differently to the head. She sighed and her shoulders slumped.

That's quite enough of that, her mind said firmly. What's meant to be will be. None of that silly moping, be jolly grateful for what you have. She raised her chin and met her own eyes in the mirror, the soft chocolate brown gaze holding resolutely. She really wished she didn't want him back. It would make things so much easier.

Lord Vetinari stalked through the crowd of guests at the Assassin's Guild annual charity dinner. As an alumnus, and also in his capacity of Patrician, he was expected to attend. He disliked events that forced you to make meaningless small talk, although he never found himself unduly bothered by people – the benefits of his reputation preceding him. He smirked to himself, leaning slightly against the wall behind him. He swirled the drink in his glass and watched the apparently random Brownian motion of guests milling across the floor. The slightly shiny, waxy grins of people determined to do good deeds amused him. It amused him even more to know that some of their deeds in their private lives were really very different. And yet they persisted in maintaining this charade, unaware of just how much he knew. Yes, knowledge was indeed power. And Lord Vetinari understood this well. His roving eye fell upon someone determined to remain as equally aloof as he was. Lady Sybil Ramkin was seated in one corner of the large room; periodically guests would peel off and exchange a few words with her, before disappearing back into the crowd. Lord Vetinari arched an eyebrow and a slight twitch of his mouth indicated that the sight was not unexpected. Perhaps he should pay his compliments. After all, he did have standards.

Lord Vetinari moved smoothly along the outside of the room, snagging a fresh drink from one of the waiters whose tray rattled slightly in trepidation as he passed.

"Good Evening, Sybil."

Lady Ramkin started slightly at the unexpected greeting, her surprise melting into a small smile as she saw who stood next to her.

"Oh, Havelock, hello. I didn't see you there. Are you enjoying the evening?"

Lord Vetinari shrugged. "It is as expected," he returned cryptically and offered her the fresh glass.

Lady Ramkin's eyes twinkled as she surveyed her friend. "You don't change, Havelock," she said fondly, accepting the glass and taking a sip.

Lord Vetinari looked at the woman seated next to him. Despite Lady Ramkin looking as striking as usual, he could detect something different about her; her sadness could not be hidden.

Lord Vetinari sipped a drink to hide his smile. It was time to force someone's hand.

Captain Samuel Vimes took a deep breath and immediately wished he hadn't. He coughed and spat out something unidentifiable that floated away in the gutter. He raised his head slightly so the dirty trickle of water continued flowing under his chin and wondered, through the pounding in his head, whether his arms and legs still worked. Groaning, he dragged himself into a sitting position. His head felt as if it was going to pop off his shoulders and the gutter water had sluiced under his armour, soaking him to the skin with water that smelled as if an incontinent dog had been using it as a lavatory. The chink of glass made him look down. An empty Bearhuggers bottle bobbed in the gutter, answering at least one question. Vimes leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed heavily. It was dawn and already he was too tired. Blearily, he prised open an eye and squinted at the shop front opposite him. It was the candlemakers - above that was his room. Couldn't even make it there, eh? his mind jeered.

Freed from the confines of drink, his mind tumbled over with thoughts and images. With every one, his groan got louder, his head clenched between his fists. He hadn't even managed to tell Colon, Nobby or Carrot before the epic drinking started – they still thought he was with her Ladyship. Damned stupid idea from the start. Who the hell was he kidding thinking that that would work. They had become close purely down to being involved in the same investigation surrounding the great dragon. If he hadn't known better he would have thought that Vetinari knew about, ah, their closeness.

Even if you lay down in a darkened cellar and never moved for a year, you could guarantee His Lordship would whisper in your ear, "Dark in here, isn't it?" Vimes grimaced. Since when was his personal life anything to do with him anyway? But his mind had already supplied the answer. When you began dating the richest woman in the city and one who was actually friends with the Patrician. Holy shit. You're a marked man. You've upset her, she's got access to slightly more than a run of the mill thug in the Mended Drum. You're gonna be saying hello to His Lordship's scorpion pit.

Somehow he got his legs to obey his brain and pushed open the door to the stairs that led to his room, asleep before his body even hit the bed.

Willikins, Lady Ramkin's butler, discreetly entered the dining room and presented a silver salver bearing a card.

"Oh, thank you, Willikins." Lady Ramkin dabbed her mouth with a napkin as she set down her tea cup, picking up the card with her other hand.

"Lord Vetinari? What on earth…?" She stared at the card nonplussed. "Lord Vetinari requests my presence," she said with a half-smile.

"Indeed, my Lady," Willikins replied.

"I can't think what that could be," she mused. She pushed away her breakfast plate. "Please get the coach ready Willikins." She stood up and straightened her skirt. May as well get it over with, she thought as she left the dining room.

In the Oval Office, Lord Vetinari picked up the discreet bell on his desk. Drumknott appeared noiselessly by his side.

"My Lord?"

"When Lady Ramkin arrives please ensure we are not disturbed."

If Drumknott was surprised by this instruction, he did not show it. His face remained impassive as he murmured his assent and withdrew.

Lord Vetinari laced his fingers together and lightly rested his chin on them with an air of contemplation. It was nearly time. He smiled.

Comments always welcome.