Chapter Text
Vimes’ ears were ringing. He could still smell burning flesh. He could still hear the screams. He would never forget those screams. Screams that had been his fault. Maybe he had been Commander of the Watch for long enough. Maybe it was time for a younger man to take over. He sighed and leaned heavily on his desk.
As Commander he should be downstairs, of course, to at least try and deal with the chaos and confusion that had taken over the Yard. But every bone in his body hurt and Carrot was handling things well with his very own mixture of kindness and efficiency. A lot of policemen needed Igor’s skills right now, some more urgently than others. They had even called Dr. Lawn from the hospital to help out. Some of the boys still might not make it.
Vimes felt helpless. It was an unfamiliar feeling, because so far, he had always found something to do, even if it was the wrong thing. But after the adrenaline rush had subsided, every fibre in his body screamed for a break, begged him, in fact, to just lay down and cover his eyes and ears. When his legs had nearly given out on him, he had caved and retreated to his office to lick his own wounds. What a Commander he was. At least he could say that all he had taken for himself were a bowl of warm water as well as some clean towels and bandages. The pain medication and healing salves he left to those who needed them more urgently than him.
His office greeted him with a blessed silence. Finally he had room to pause and to breathe more freely. It felt like he had held his breath for hours now. With all the distractions from downstairs gone, all the noise, all the people, Vimes started to feel his own pain all the more acutely. Gingerly, he removed his dented breast plate, groaning under its weight. The shirt underneath was stuck to the countless small, bleeding cuts across his torso, so he had to peel it off slowly, inch by painful inch. He could definitely feel a more severe burn across his shoulder blade, one or two ribs that might be broken or at least badly bruised and, oh yes, there, right above his hip bone, where it had wedged itself in from below…
‘You should be at the hospital, Commander.’
He was too tired to even flinch when Lord Vetinari pried himself from the shadows.
‘If anything I should be with my men,’ he growled. ‘And you shouldn’t be here.’
‘Are you telling me where I can and cannot go, Vimes?’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’
Vetinari raised his cane to gesture at Vimes’ abdomen, right above his left hip, where a bloody shard of glass stuck out of him. ‘That needs treatment.’
‘Had worse.’ Vimes carefully probed the shard and winced as a sharp pain shot through his entire body and left him nauseous. Maybe he’d had worse, but back then he usually hadn't been sober enough to feel much of it. ‘What are you doing here?’
Vetinari came closer and let his gaze wander silently across Vimes’ beaten torso, taking stock of every cut, every bruise and every burn. He slowly circled him.
‘The explosion caused quite the uproar in my city, Commander. It is nigh impossible to gather reliable information right now, even for me. Rumours are floating around that you are among the casualties. I thought it sensible to verify these news as fast and as reliably as I could, meaning, of course, personally.’ He came to stand in front of Vimes again. ‘I’m glad that I can lay those rumours to rest. Now, we should take care of that.’ He nodded at the shard of glass. ‘How deeply do you think it is lodged in?’
‘Not very. I was just going to…’
‘Good. Lie down.’
‘What?’
Vetinari raised a purposeful eyebrow and tapped the floor with his cane. Vimes drew in air to protest, but he was so, so tired. So he complied. His back cracked as he lay down on the wooden boards as if it tried to remind him how long it had been since he had lain down at all. The burn on his shoulder blade stung, but it was still weirdly pleasant to feel the stability of the boards underneath him.
As Vimes settled in, Vetinari put the medical supplies on the floor next to him, then he knelt down. This is the wrong way round!, Vimes shouted in his head – the Commander of the Watch wasn’t supposed to be weak in front of the Patrician, or to need his help.
‘Hold still.’
Vetinari’s voice was soft and quiet, but his movements were fast. He rested a gentle hand on Vimes’ chest and with the other grabbed the shard and pulled.
Vime gasped for air. He shot up, but Vetinari’s hand on his chest gently pushed him down again, which was probably for the best. It wasn’t so much the very sudden flash of pain that shot through him, but the sickening feeling of something sharp slicing through his flesh that caused him intense and sudden nausea. His blood left his face. The room was spinning and, by the gods, he felt sick to his stomach. Something pressed against his abdomen.
‘It’s alright, Vimes. You are experiencing mild shock.’
Vetinari’s voice seemed to come from far away, barely passing the white noise in his ears, but the soothing hand on his chest was very real. Mild?, he noticed himself think, really?
‘This is quite normal. Just keep breathing.’
Vimes did as he was told and the dizziness slowly cleared away. Carefully, he turned his head. Vetinari was still kneeling, pressing down on his wound, and watched him attentively. His abdomen still hurt, though not as sharply as before, more like it would be able to heal now.
‘Can you sit up yet?’
He tried, but would have fallen backwards, if Vetinari hadn’t caught him and helped him the rest of the way. His head still spun a little, but the sickness was slowly fading.
‘Keep pressing this down.’
His hand was guided to a bundle of fabric on his abdomen. Vetinari slipped the loose end of a bandage under there too to keep it fixed, then he wound the fabric around Vimes’ torso. Every time he reached around his back he had to lean in very close, so close that Vimes could smell his aftershave like a fresh ocean breeze. It took away the stink of burning meat that still hang in his nose, so he breathed in deeper.
‘You could pass for a nurse,’ he muttered.
Vetinari smirked, but kept concentrating on his task. ‘I do have a doctorate in medicine.’
His sluggish brain needed a moment to understand what had been said. ‘I thought you studied languages.’
‘Yes, those too. I believe in versatility, Vimes.’ With deft fingers, Vetinari pushed Vimes’ hand out of the way and fastened the loose ends of the bandage tightly with a knot. ‘Though my expertise is more of the theoretical kind. You should go and see a proper physician as soon as you can.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Vimes raised his hand in a mock salute and regretted it instantly as his broken ribs protested.
‘Serves you right,’ Vetinari muttered, but there was a barely concealed fondness in his voice.
He pulled the water bowl closer, dipped in a fresh towel and took to cleaning the other, less vicious, but plentiful cuts. Vimes just let it happen. What else could he do? He was in no state to protest, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to either. The gentle touches were soothing after everything that had happened.
He had noticed it too late. They had raided a drug dealers’ den, but the trolls had obviously been warned and had installed a deathly trap by blowing up their chemical compounds right into their faces. The explosion must have been audible all the way to Sto Lat. Detritus had taken the brunt of it, at least partly protecting those behind him, but he would recover. Some of the more eager young lads might not be so lucky.
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
Vetinari voice, though soft, cut through his memories and brought him back to his office floor.
‘You don’t know that. You weren’t there.’
‘I know that police work is dangerous. I’m sure you did your best.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe my best isn’t good enough anymore. Maybe I’m getting slow.’
He grunted, when Vetinari lightly tapped his broken ribs as a way of scolding him.
‘Self-pity is hardly the way forward, Commander.’
‘I just… I’d rather it was me on Igor’s operating table than some young recruit who just wanted to do his best.’
Vetinari’s hand came to rest gently on his biceps to turn him to the side and continue his work on a cut across his cheek bone. ‘If I can be frank with you, Commander, I’m glad you’re not. I would have missed you.’
‘Oh, the Watch would have been fine. Carrot will be a better leader one day than I ever was. And he will upset people far less.’
‘I appreciate that you upset people, Vimes, but that is not what I meant. I would have missed you… personally.’
Vimes’ head whipped around to stare at Vetinari who gave a disarming smile. ‘Don’t look so shocked. You are one of the few people in this city I can actually rely upon and I… Well, I do enjoy our talks.’
Vimes opened his mouth to say something dismissive, but stopped himself. Come to think of it, Vetinari had grown on him ever since their talk at the Small God’s Cemetery. Even when they disagreed, he could still be certain that the Patrician had his back, going up against the heads of the guilds anytime he needed him to. And now he was patiently treating his wounds, even though the paper work on his desk had to be piling up as fallout from what had happened.
Vimes grabbed his hand as it was coming up again from the water bowl to continue cleaning his face. ‘You were worried.’
‘Of course.’
‘About me.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Because you don’t get worried.’
‘Not very easily, no.’
Vetinari calmly met his gaze as Vimes stared at him. He was still holding his hand and didn’t know what to do about it. Letting it go was probably the sensible thing. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Touching Vetinari felt so grounding after his certainty of his place in the world had been uprooted so violently tonight.
While he was still pondering what to do, Vetinari carefully cupped Vimes’ cheek with his free hand. ‘You deserve to be worried about, Commander. Never doubt that.’
It was too much. With the shock of the explosion still sitting deep in his bones, the pain in his flesh and the worry about his men in his head, his defenses crumbled, only a little at first, then all at once. He sank forward, as the control over his body left him, and into Vetinari’s chest. Arms wrapped around his back, carefully as to not cause him more pain. It was wonderfully warm in that embrace, wonderfully safe and as he buried his face in the crook of Vetinari’s neck, he was able to forget the sounds and the smells of ripping and burning flesh, if only for a moment. Even the screams. Gods, the screams. Those were shards nobody could remove for him.
‘It’s going to be alright, Sam.’
Vetinari’s voice soothed him. He would have scoffed at anyone else who would have said those words, but Vetinari he believed. The pain would pass, eventually. But it hadn’t yet. Carefully, he freed himself from the embrace and missed its warmth the moment he left it.
‘I have to go downstairs.’
‘To what end?’ Vetinari regarded him softly. ‘If Igor and Dr. Lawn can’t help those poor men, neither can you.’
‘Still.’
He tried to stand up, but the pain in his ribs and abdomen almost brought him to his knees again. He wouldn’t have managed without the helping hands of Vetinari gently supporting him. Even so he leaned heavily on him and only managed to remain upright after some moments or recollecting himself.
‘You should lie down.’ Vetinari caught his gaze and held it. ‘Sam, there’s nothing you can do.’
‘I can show them that I care,’ he mumbled as he reached for the door knob, groaning as his ribs made it known to him that it wasn’t a very bright idea to do so. Vetinari swiftly moved between him and the door, standing so close that Vimes could feel his breath on his skin. It was tempting to stay here with him, to go to sleep and not think of the world for a while.
‘Is it worth it?’ Vetinari looked Vimes over, then shook his head. ‘Of course it is. To you, it always is.’ He sighed in surrender, stepped aside, and opened the door for him. Vimes hesitated.
‘It is worth it,’ he muttered, ‘because it’s important to know that people care about you. It makes you stronger in the face of despair.’
He could hardly look Vetinari in the eyes, but could still see that the Patrician nodded slowly. He understood.
‘Don’t forget to get yourself stitched up, Commander. The Watch still needs you. The city needs you.’
Just for a moment it seemed like he was going to add someone else to that list of people who needed him, but he didn’t. He didn’t have to.
‘Yes, sir.’
Vimes turned to the door. The threshold was intimidating. Behind it lay confusion and pain and most likely some poor bloke’s death. He didn’t want any of that. But he had to go, because he was Commander Sam Vimes of the Watch and because he might be able to pull out some shards for some people, even if it was difficult. So he tried his best to remember the warmth of Vetinari’s embrace and his gentle words in the hopes that they would protect him as he descended down the stairs to face the chaos.