It was midday by the time Angua rapped on the door to Vimes' office.
There was a clearly audible sigh, followed by;
"Come in."
As she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with her free hand, the look on Vimes' face showed he hadn't been expecting her.
"Angua." And boy did that come out sounding more relieved than he'd like.
Angua herself had to suppress a smile at the sound of someone actually appreciating her presence; she'd just popped in to see Carrot, who, while thanking her for taking the time to visit him, reminded her that she was, after all, on duty.
"Bad morning?" she asked, not without concern as she approached his desk. Vimes was sitting head in his hands somewhere among the piles of files all around him. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up, hands at the back of his neck now.
"Vetinari." He said simply.
"Ah."
"Yes."
She took a seat without having been asked, wanting to be on the same eye-level as him.
"Want to talk about it?"
"No."
She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, and despite his better instincts he found himself giving in to a grim smile.
"He sent for me this morning." He started, pointedly ignoring the little voice n the back of his mind asking him why he was getting into a chummy conversation with Angua after that...thing, this morning. So much for that 100% professionalism you promised yourself a minute ago it smirked. He glared inwardly at it, watching it scamper off whimpering.
"He congratulated me. He said I'd 'made an example to anyone thinking of harming an Officer of the City'. He said things like 'beyond the call of duty', and 'selfless acts of heroism'. He said he might look into having a medal made for me. Something about 'valour'."
Vimes glowered, remembering the knowing expression on the Patrician's smug face.
"Bastard."
Angua couldn't resist a smile now. A whining Vimes could be so adorable sometimes.
The smile disappeared from her face in a flash Godsdammit. Stop thinking like that..*right now*.
Mentally moving on, she tried to offer some sort of condolence.
"I know you hate the attention. Especially for something you didn't do-". A quick glance at Vimes and she knew he hadn't taken that the wrong way. In fact, he seemed to be looking at her unnervingly, like she'd read his mind…
"- but this is good. You can just move on from last night."
She didn't say 'forget about it'. She knew that could never be a possibility.
Vimes watched her for another second, before seeming to come to a decision, and sighing, leaned back in his chair.
"You're right. I should just try and leave this case behind me."
Angua's hesitant look down didn't escape his notice.
"Unless..." he continued, leaning forward again eagerly , "You've got something on the second attacker."
She looked back up into his eyes, saw in them the copper's hunger for the chase, the breakthrough…
Resignedly, she passed him the iconograph she'd brought in with her.
As he took it their fingers touched just for a second..
Both of them pointedly avoided the others eyes and ignored the little '!' they'd just felt. Now was so not the time,
"Igor told me that from the shape of Carrot's wound he knows we're looking for a roughly 3" blade, but with-"
"- one straight edge, and one serrated" Vimes finished grimly, looking at the weapon in the picture.
Angua nodded.
"They're rare…I had a picture made of this example in the armoury, but even that had been locked up for a good while."
"I know." Vimes muttered, dropping the iconograph disdainfully onto the desk. "Carrot confiscated it from some dumb barbarian a few years back. He thought it was a damn good showpiece of course, but those things aren't fair-play in the slightest. One edge for slice-and-dice, and the other just for tearing you up as messily as possible..."
Angua spoke before he had a chance to muse one just how messily he'd torn up DeLancey's face night.
"I was thinking we should speak to a few of the more 'selective' arms dealers in the city. Something like this was brought in from outside Ankh-Morpork. Special order perhaps?"
Vimes paused a second.
" Its going to be a long shot. Those places pride themselves on Client Confidentiality* and all that…Is this the only lead we have on this son-of-a-bitch?"
Angua couldn't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm now as she answered.
"See, that's just it sir, I think he's a-"
She stopped hastily as there was a loud knocking and Colon popped his head round the door.
"Excuse me Mister Vimes but-"
He paused a second, taking in Angua's presence, and that from the way the two of them sat back quickly in their seats, he seemed to have been interrupting something private. He guessed that they must have been discussing Carrot. Poor lad. That Igor still wouldn't let him have any visitors. And Nobby had gone and bought some grapes special. Damn shame they'd had to eat them all on their own…
"What is it Fred?" Vimes asked impatiently.
"Sorry sir, its just..." The sergeant shifted uncomfortably. "Er, a carriage has been sent sir."
Two sets of eyes stared back at him blankly.
" From old Mr DeLancey…that is, erm, its been sent for the, er, body, sir?"
He saw Vimes face pale instantly.
Angua's eyes darted towards him, wondering if she should handle this…but found Vimes' own came round searching for hers. Their gaze held a second, and he seemed to focus a little more.
"Thankyou Fred." He called out calmly, not taking his eyes from hers. "Deal with it will you."
Fred paused a second, before nodding dutifully.
"Yessir. Right away sir."
Puffed up full of pride he made his way out.
As soon as he'd left Vimes allowed himself to lose the calm expression and sag down in his seat burying his face in his hands.
Any other time he would have waited until Angua was out of the room too, but now…well.
"Gods." He muttered.
"You did good." Angua's voice called supportively from across the desk.
Vimes sat up and flung his arms wide sarcastically.
"Oh, well that's just fine then. I might have just managed to conceal from my entire command that I'm a complete wreck."
"Sir-"
"No, no, don't try and deny it, you've seen enough of me the past twenty-four hours to see the truth."
There was a pause while he came down from that little rant. Eventually he looked down, his shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to see it. You shouldn't have to listen to this now."
Angua looked to the side a second, as if deciding what she could and could not say at this point. Eventually she leaned in perching her folded arms on the edge of the desk, and spoke quietly.
" First, you're not a complete wreck. You've managed to keep yourself together better than anyone else would have in the same situation, especially just now. The others might think that you're understandably on edge, but they've mostly forgotten about last night – you've put them all at ease being here today."
She paused, and softened her voice a little more as she continued, his dark eyes watching her the whole time.
"And second, I wanted to be here for you. Because I care and…and well, I know what its like to get carried away by your rage sometimes. And its… its hell to go through it alone."
Vimes realised then just how much she understood it all. How much he understood her. That wasn't good…not for him and Sybil, and not for Angua and carrot. So, he should stop this right now. Stop this informality that had crept in. Re-draw the boundaries. Be professional.
"You were going to say something else before Fred came in?" he asked, still holding her gaze.
Angua couldn't help but look taken aback for a second, but she regained her composure admirably.
"Yes sir. There's a lead I was about to follow up, that suggests-"
"Hang on-" Vimes interrupted. A second later, with Angua looking back at him expectantly, his brain actually registered the fact that he'd spoken. He paused a second, and looked away as he continued casually,
"Its just we don't any more interruptions…So tell me on the way."
What? It wasn't unusual for him to want to get in the thick of things. It wasn't like it meant anything. It was work. Just…out of the office. With Angua. Alone with Angua. He could handle that.
So he kept his expression unreadable as Angua, after a beat watching him painfully closely, replied.
" With pleasure, sir."
TBC
* The Guild of Merchants had come up with this term a short while ago, and used it with great gusto in every Guide to Ankh-Morkpork and promotion of some of the less reputable trades of the City. They felt it better suited the image of class and style they were attempting than the traditional clause of "If the old Bill comes knocking, we'll tell 'em bugger all."**
** which had in fact, only recently been amended with "…unless that is, the aforementioned old Bill is in company with, and/or led by the troll Detritus, in which case my friend you are well and truly screwed, because no way on disc are we going to say no to that guy, have you seen the size of that long-bow?!". In this area the Guild liked to make the exact nature of the agreement as clear as possible.
Review review review! Click that little button
¦
¦
V