Vetinari shuffled the papers around on his desk, for the first time in his life feeling unable to concentrate fully on his work. Normally he delighted in the various intrigues and plots that seemed to come with the city as much as the smell, but now he was finding recent events harder to push aside.

He practically made a living from reading the silences behind what people said and did, yet the events of earlier had completely caught his by surprise – a feeling he normally abhorred but was slowly becoming used to when Vimes was involved with events.

He remembered when he had thought he first met Vimes; that naive, newly appointed captain applying for command of the Day Watch. The recollection always amused him, Vimes had not yet schooled his face to present the bland impassiveness he did now and Vetinari had been able to read every thought running across the young man's face.

"So Captain…Vimes was it?"

"Yes Sir."

Vetinari steepled his fingers, relishing the faint look of panic on the fresh face across from him.

"Now Vimes, why do you feel you should be given this command over someone with more experience…more familiarity with command?"

"But the older officers are the problem Sir!"

"Explain Captain."

The flat tone would have been a warning to anyone with the slightest shred of self-preservation, designed to reach straight into the hind-brain and alert all senses to the presence of a concealed predator. Vetinari was actually faintly shocked when the Captain was too wrapped up in oratory to notice.

"They don't respect the law of the City, the law we should be enforcing. Everyone knows the Assassins are just murderers and the Thieves Guild just a pack of thieves but no-one does anything about it!"

When a slight narrowing of the eyes also failed to provoke a response Vetinari realised it was worse than he'd thought. He rarely did anything so vulgar or wasteful as killing anymore, but Vimes had to be put somewhere he would not be in danger of destabilising the fragile balance.

"Captain, these are some of the city's premier institutions and ones that the Captain of the Day Watch would be expected to liaise closely with. Maybe you should consider whether this post is really what you want."

He could see when Vimes finally read the meaning under the carefully polite tone of the words, the first set of barriers being erected to keep his thoughts at bay. It was enough for Vetinari to decide a tragic accident would be unnecessary…command of the Night Watch would be a perfect alternative.

"You are dismissed Captain."

"Sir"

Vetinari remembered his exact words to Wonse in a later conversation -

"The Night Watch is a bunch of fools commanded by a drunkard…it's taken me years to achieve it."

Vetinari smiled wryly; Wonse hadn't been the only misguided one in the events that followed. Vetinari had impassively watched a formerly idealistic man nearly destroy himself with alcohol and regret, but the Vimes that made it through the dragon's flame had been tempered into the irresistible force to Vetinari's immovable object. He had begun to relish the chaos Vimes could bring to the city…especially after figuring out how to channel it to his own ends.

As Vetinari confronted the fact that he had been completely distracted by nostalgic musings he grudgingly conceded that Vimes had often intruded into his thoughts, ever since realising when their real first meeting had been.

Vetinari crouched on the rooftop, his dark grey clothes wrapped tight around him as he melted into the shadows. The night was cold but he did not stir, his attention riveted on the scene playing out in front of him. The man with the scars and eye patch controlling the crowd, making it dance to his tune. It was a feat few could have managed and fewer still could have maintained.

Vetinari felt a stirring of respect as he gazed at the man below him, at his face silhouetted in the lamplight, but tried to banish it as he focused on the task at hand. Emotions only confused things, plus if his Aunt discovered how he felt she would have a hold over him and that Vetinari would not allow. Still, maybe in the privacy of his thoughts he could indulge the odd fantasy…

There was the movement he had been watching for. His arm came up and he fired, by instinct rather than aim. As his quarry fell to the street below, Vetinari slipped away over the rooftops, reflecting he would probably never see the man again.

An inaudible sigh escaped from Vetinari as he remembered. He had watched Keel die and avenged him. Seeing him again, so many years after, caused the closest thing to confusion that Vetinari would ever admit to, but now there was no time for the luxury of indecision - this time there would be no miraculous second chance whatever path he chose. He needed someone to listen, but not judge, and he knew one person who could definitely do that.

Scant minutes (and some careful hopping) later, Vetinari stood outside the workroom of Leonard of Quirm knowing he would have whatever scattered parts of the inventors attention could be commanded after his latest invention had been disarmed.

Even with Leonard's usual open style of listening it took Vetinari longer than usual to bring the conversation around to the absent commander, longer still for the heavily abridged version of their most recent encounter. As Vetinari sat in the ensuing silence, trying to remember what he had hoped to accomplish, Leonard looked passed him with the vague yet focused expression of a man lost in memory.

"In Ephebe, philosophers talk of different styles of love…better for extended debate than just the one word you see."

"I have a passing familiarity with the concept," Vetinari interjected drily, the tone winging effortlessly over Leonard's head.

Leonard moved to his desk and began to rummage in a drawer, his preoccupation helping to maintain the illusion he was just musing aloud.

"Storge, or storgic love, develops from simple friendship into a deeper commitment – intimacy more important than passion."

Leonard pushed a sheaf of papers taken from the drawer across his desk, fluttering a hand vaguely from them towards Vetinari. He then turned to the windowsill to tinker with a scale model of something far too complicated. Vetinari began to ideally flick through them but almost immediately stuttered to a stop.

Interspersed with the normal detritus Leonard's mind produced were tiny, detailed sketches – Vimes and Vetinari frozen in monochrome moments, all different but capturing the threads weaving between them; a familiarity that neither allowed to anyone else, the trust implied in a turned back or bowed head, the understanding of two men united by a city to be saved from itself.

Vetinari was never lost for words. Nevertheless he stared at Leonard's back in silence. Even he could not remain oblivious to the pressure of the Patrician's stare and bustled back to refresh their cups of tea from the thankfully normal kettle.

"I looked through the eyes of the portraits, just a little habit to help the time pass. I've done studies of several others if you're interested…"

"No," said Vetinari slowly, as he stood up to leave, "these are quite sufficient."