Present

It was a slow day without much trouble, just the way Sergeant Colon liked it. He was sitting behind one of the writing desks, like he always did when he wasn't out on the streets with Nobby. Everything was quiet inside the watch house, which –come to think of it– was quiet unusual. All the policemen were either out on the streets or about to end or begin their shifts.
It was still early in the morning, when the night-shift was ending but the day-shift hadn't yet begun. Fred Colon had been in early this morning. There was nowhere else he wanted to be, so he thought he could as well start his shift earlier than usual.
He had already been working for over an hour– at least he had been on duty for over an hour– when the door opened and a young man entered. The stranger had black hair that hung unto his forehead and he wore plain black clothes.
Sergeant Colon looked up and watched as the stranger made his way over to the desk.
"Good morning," Fred said, a bit unsure what to expect.
The stranger stopped a few feet away from the table and looked at the policeman. Colon swallowed hard. The cool gaze made him somehow nervous, though he didn't know why. The boy seemed strangely familiar, but the sergeant couldn't remember ever having met this guy before.
"Good morning... Sergeant Colon," the stranger answered.
He had seemed a bit hesitant to use Fred's name. The policeman felt even more nervous now.
"Sorry, have we met?" he asked, slowly.
"No, we haven't, but I have heard of you," the boy answered plainly.
Colon didn't know what to say, and for a moment everything was silent.
Then the boy broke the silence. "I'm looking for Sam Vimes, Commander of the Watch. I need to talk to him."
"Oh... I don't think that's possible..." Colon said in a mix of surprise and nervousness.
"It is important," the boy stated simply.
"Okay... I will see what I can do." Normally Colon wouldn't have given in that easily, but this boy somehow gave him the creeps. Rising, he made his way up the stairs to the Commanders office. He knocked cautiously, but instead of Vimes' voice, it was the voice of Captain Carrot that answered back.
"Come in," he called out, and Colon did as he was told. But before he did so, he turned around once more to check whether the boy was still there.
He found the stranger to be still standing in the same spot, as if he hadn't moved at all.

Minutes later he emerged again, followed by Carrot, who had a plainly curious expression on his face.
Smiling, the captain walked over to where the boy stood and extended a hand towards the boy.
"Hello, I'm Captain Carrot. What can I do for you?"
The boy ignored the extended hand and answered, "I need to talk to Commander Vimes. It is important." Carrot hesitated for a second, before he stated, "Right, but I can assure you, if you want to report any crime it is completely sufficient if you tell me about it."
"This isn't about a crime."
"In that case I would like to know who you are and what you want from the Commander."
"You may call me Traveler Johnson, but what I have to talk to the Commander about is my business alone."

Later Fred Colon wasn't sure what exactly had happened. All he knew was that the boy, had– after a rather awkward conversation with Captain Carrot– walked out of the watch house with a detailed description of where to find the commander.
"The Ramkins Manor?" the boy had asked, like he had already been there before.
"Yes, Commander Vimes has married Lady Sybil a few years ago," Carrot had answered.
Traveler hadn't seemed that pleased to hear that, but had said nothing.
And now, that the strange boy had left, Colon and Carrot shared a puzzled glance. For a while neither of them said anything. Something strange had just happened and they both lacked a good explanation. How had this guy managed to get them to tell him so much, without even knowing who he was and what his intentions were? It was creepy, extremely so!
It was Carrot who finally broke the silence, "Is it just me or did that boy seem somehow familiar?"

Three days earlier

It had taken Fred and Nobby about half an hour to get to Mrs. Cake's guesthouse. They had walked in uncomfortable silence, always keeping a close eye on their surrounding. Certainly it was no good idea to walk into the Shades wearing a guard uniform, but they had both found themselves lacking a sufficient alternative. One either was wearing his uniform or was sleeping, that was the way the old watch had worked (and even then, sometimes they slept in uniform). They had yet to manage to come to terms with certain new ideas like civilian clothes.
Mrs. Cake was well known all over Ankh Morpork, but that didn't mean that many people had met her. It was about the same as it was with Vetinari. There were about a million people in the city, but most of them had never met the Patrician in person, although he most likely knew them all.
Colon had expected many things, but certainly not an elderly woman, which obviously was short-sighted. She was quite nice, although seeming very strict. It was only when they tried to question her about her tenants, that they understood why this lady had a certain reputation.
"He's not here," she had answered, before Colon was even able to open his mouth.
"Excuse me?" he asked completely surprised and a bit nervous as well.
"I said he's not here," she repeated and searched the watchman's face for a sign of understanding, but found none. Mrs. Cake seemed to realize that she needed to explain a few things, or this would not work. "Look, I know what you are going to say even before you know it yourself, but you still have to voice your questions, otherwise I get headaches."
Colon blinked a few times, before he pulled himself together. Stranger things had happened to him, although not many. "Oh... okay?"
Mrs. Cake gave him a doubtful look, as she said, "So, as I said, he isn't here."
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Colon remembered to ask the question which had just been answered. "We are searching for a... man named Jonathan."
The elderly woman nodded approvingly in his direction, like he was a child who had just done something right.

"Yesterday, soon after sunset," she continued. "I was a bit surprised, because he usually sleeps before he goes to work. His shift starts shortly after midnight, I think."
It took Colon a while to figure out what was the right question for this answer. As he finally found one he had to hide a proud smile. "When did you last see him?"
"No, sorry. I don't know much about the private life of my tenants and I don't tend to ask, since most of them prefer privacy."
Finding the question to this answer was even more complicated. Colon nearly suspected she created long, complicated answers on purpose. Normally he didn't ask that many question, at least not when the person he was talking to didn't even seem to be involved in the case at hand. Personally Fred preferred Detritus' way of questioning suspects, which was made of asking, or rather stating the same words ("Ye guilty! Don't deny! Ye guilty!") over and over again, until the suspect gave up and confessed. It had never really worked for Colon, though.
"You don't happen to know where he might be now?" obviously the right question, after all.
"I'm not your servant," Mrs. Cake said disapprovingly. It seemed like Fred's next question was going to annoy her, maybe they should leave. The watchmen seemed to have outlasted their welcome. "Still, I'll try to let you know if he returns."
"Thank you very much for your help. Could you do us a favor and let us know when this Jonathan returns?"

Commander Sir Samuel Vimes sat in his office. As much as he tried to avoid being locked up in it, there still were some duties that could not be fulfilled while running trough the streets, and much less so when yelling orders at random people during the change of shifts. They had gotten several new recruits during the last few weeks and it needed quite a lot of patience to organize things when more than one of them were around.
With a sigh, Vimes walked towards the window and looked through it into the city. He had not the amazing view down on the city as one had from the Oblong Office, but Vimes wouldn't want that anyway. Having a view that made you feel like you were amongst the people, was much better than looking down on them.
It was raining again, not that Vimes cared. On the other hand he certainly had noticed, that the clouds above the city were getting darker than usual. Of course, he didn't know which color the clouds were supposed to have during this time of the year. He certainly hadn't kept an eye on the sky above Ankh Morpork and he certainly hadn't waited for the rain to start, whenever the clouds got darker. Vimes liked to pretend that he hadn't been anxious whenever a thunderstorm claimed the skies above the city. He liked to pretend that he hadn't been wishing to see that face again...
Except that he had.
It was strange, because Vimes wasn't sad or anything. Everything was working just fine. There were no big problems in the city, except for the usual, and at the moment no one tried to force him to assimilate any new species into the watch. Even the League of Temperance kept quiet for the time being. At home the Commander spent every evening reading a story to his son. While the boy was still too young to understand what the story about, but one couldn't start soon enough to spent leisure hours with their offspring.

So in other words, Vimes' life was running smooth. Maybe too smooth for his own good... not even Vetinari caused any problems. The first meeting, after Vimes had returned from the past, had been awkward, but that was mostly the commander's doing. He had been incredibly nervous and had expected the worst, not knowing what to expect or say. Vetinari on the other hand had acted completely normal, giving no indication, that he remembered any of the events. He certainly had shown no tendencies to throw Vimes into any scorpion pits. That seemed to be a good sign...
A knock from the door caught Vimes' attention and pulled him out of his memory.
"Come in, Fred," he answered, watching a confused Sergeant Colon enter the room. Obviously the man still hadn't figured out, that certain details gave him away. But there was something else, for Vimes could see the worried expression on Colon's face. He had known the elderly sergeant long enough to read him like an open book and this page promised bad news. So things weren't running as smooth as Vimes had thought, after all.

Author's Note:

To Muhkuh: hey, thanks! oh and interesting name by the way =)