Disclaimer: C'mon, I'm just a fan, I respect TP. The Discworld and the watch are his…but I guess I betta keep hold of the DeLancey's. Not that anyone'd want them. You'd be more twisted than me if you did…okay, stopping now.
Rating – PG-13 for lingo.
Setting: Let's say a coupla months after Fifth Elephant
Note: just to explain my call for reviews before I continue – which apparently pisses people off ;-) (hi Supine) – I've got two on-going fics elsewhere that have a total of at least 71 people asking for more every day. I'm under a bit of pressure ;-)So I wanted to write this, but I wasn't gonna waste time on something no-one was reading J That's just silly.
So, anyhoo, I'm gonna continue, cuz dark Vimes is just so damn irresistible EML
There was no dramatic pause, with a bloodied Vimes standing silhouetted in the doorway against a convenient flash of lightning. There was no shocked, unanimous gasp from everyone in the watch house.
Instead there was just the very, very slow ceasing of conversation as he and Angua made their way through the room, heading towards Vimes' office. And of course there was always that one person who wasn't very observant, and so goes on talking longer than everyone else. Usually they're relating a crude joke, and only stop when they get to the punch line and realise they're the only one laughing.
Fred Colon was that man.
His back was towards the rest of the Watch house, and so he spent several seconds in a very loud voice saying things along the lines of,
"Eh? Do you get it Nobby? It was the wife, geddit? Nobby? Nobby?"
"Shuddup Fred" Corpral Nobbs hissed back.
Only then did Colon take in the silence, and turned around – straight into Vimes' path. He took in the blood. A lot of blood. Everywhere. And then, he had to go and look in the man's eyes.
Nobby later swore he heard Fred whimper.
Then Sergeant Angua was there, placing a reassuring hand on Colon's shoulder, while she led Vimes on with the other.
"I'll explain in a minute."
Fred nodded dumbly.
Fifty pairs of eyes watched her follow Vimes slowly up to his office.
No-one spoke for a moment after the door shut with a 'click'. It was Nobby who spoke first, voicing all their thoughts.
"Was that Vimes under all that bl-?"
Fred nodded slowly.
"-Yes lad. "
A beat.
"Shit."
"Yes lad."
~ ~ ~
Angua stood with her back to the door and watched as Vimes moved slowly around his desk, pulling out his chair and sitting down very slowly. She watched his eyes flicker to the bottom drawer of his desk.
"I don't think that's a very good idea sir. "
Vimes met her eyes.
Ah she thought. Nobody should be that sober.
Vimes obviously agreed, for he spoke up for the first time since…well since she'd dragged him away from the bod-, the susp-, the…scene.
" Sergeant. If ever there was a time that justified my having a drink, now would be that time."
"Yes sir. " she said, moving towards the desk. She eased herself wearily into the chair opposite.
"But it wouldn't just be this one time would it?"
Vimes' eyes flickered aside for an instant. Of course he knew they knew, and of course he'd made a few comments about it in front of them…and Angua herself had seen him when he'd been drunk, right back in that whole gonne incident. But he'd never really talked about it. It wasn't like he was the type of man who went to meetings. He was commander of the Watch. He was the one in charge…
"No. It wouldn't." he eventually muttered.
He looked up at Angua with a terribly unfunny grin.
"But what would that matter? After tonight? This-" he gestured around weakly at his office, the paperwork, the watchmen outside. "- is all going to go. I can't keep this after tonight."
He could already see the big gaping abyss of his future ahead of him. At best, Vetinari might make an example of him. Lock him away. Then of course, the patrician was an evil SOB. He'd probably let him go free. Say it was an understandable accident. Then he'd be given early retirement and a cheap, gold, watch.
He snapped the pencil he didn't even realise he'd been holding.
"I killed a man tonight." He said. "I've never killed anyone before. Not like that."
Angua was watching him closely.
"He was an evil twisted bastard sir."
"He was still a person!"
"He resisted arrest!"
"Not after I'd knocked him unconscious!"
There was a pause then, and thankfully he lowered his voice to a bare whisper. Angua wasn't even sure if he was talking to her anymore.
"I just couldn't stop…."
It was always a shock to see someone you admire so utterly deflated, weak, and vulnerable. But there wasn't that awkward embarrassment here. Angua just thanked the gods it wasn't Carrot or Colon sitting where she was. They'd be looking around hopelessly by now. They'd probably send for his wife. They wouldn't understand. But she did.
She had reached out and placed her hand over his without thinking. He looked up in surprise, but this wasn't some overly-sentimental moment on her part. Angua didn't do 'weak', well, not unless things got really bad. Her voice was firm.
"Yes. You went too far. But it's over now. He can't hurt anyone anymore and I know for certain that no-one worthwhile will mourn for him. He's not worth it. "
They both knew what 'it' was. 'It' was what he was doing now. It was giving up, judging oneself, losing control. 'It' would be taking that first drink.
Vimes gave no response other than a vague nod.
The woman opposite him sighed and gave his hand a quick squeeze before standing up.
"Stay here. I'll talk to Colon. I'll be back when I've seen Carrot. "
As she turned and left quickly, Vimes came out of his own pit of despair in time to feel guilt of a different nature.
He hadn't even thought about Carrot. And he'd kept Angua minding him when she should have been rushing to the bedside of her…well, whatever Carrot was to her.
He could be an inconsiderate bastard sometimes.
After tonight, that thought struck him as a desperately hilarious understatement.
TBC
R/R
(short chapter - sorry)