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Sam Vimes was walking through the dark streets of Ankh-Morpork. He thought that a cop shouldn't patrol alone but today they gave him the bell for announcing time and peace, and kicked him out to do his new job.
He was nervously turning around and always picked the option with most street lights on every turn, desperately hoping all criminals would keep their activities in the darkest alleys that he wouldn't enter even if they doubled his wage.
Perhaps it is a joke, he realised all of a sudden. Because there is no way he is supposed to just go and protect the city all on his own. There were none of the older cops when he was leaving, so maybe he was currently a victim of some irresponsible management.
Sam sighed.
Whatever the case is, it will do his reputation best to come back alive and well, and say everything was great. Now he just needs to take care of the "alive and well" part very carefully.
His uniform was a bit uncomfortable and his chest plate seemed to be too big for him. It was time to ring the bell but he concluded that everyone who isn't sleeping right now and might hear him is someone who's attention he doesn't want. It might give any criminals time to move their business elsewhere but it could just as well give them an opportunity to wait around the corner with a prepared axe, so he just continued quietly walking.
Some years from now he will know the whole city by heart, but at this moment he only has a very vague idea where he is. He would manage to get back to the Treacle Mine Road but probably wouldn't be able to point out his current position on a map.
The boy yawned and leaned against a wall belonging to a big dark house with thick shutters on the windows. Staying up this late was still hard for him, despite the adrenaline running through his body. He listened to the quiet muffled sounds around, because Ankh-Morpork was never really quiet, and began to slowly realise that some of the noises are coming from behind the wall. He was just about to turn towards the door when it opened with a loud noise, made a full semicircle and hit the stone as a man stormed out of the house.
Sam instinctively hid in the nearest shadow and held his breath. A big part of the man's face was covered in blood. It was running from his (clearly broken) nose. He yelled several curses, slammed the entrance shut with all his strength and angrily half-walked half-ran away.
The young cop was still frozen in his hiding place, considering his options. It seemed something in the handle broke with the slam, because it opened again a little bit. The sounds from inside haven't stopped at all. It was more than obvious that something what definitely shouldn't be happening was taking place in there. It wasn't a bar fight and apparently involved way too many people to be a dispute between a married pair or some similar sort of thing. It definitely should be investigated.
By the police.
HE is the police.
It should be investigated by HIM!
Cold sweat began to form on his forehead. There wouldn't be any consequences if he just walked away. It's not expected of him to actually interfere with things like that. He's just supposed to scold drunkards in the streets and perhaps lock up thieves if he sees them in the act, no? That was the general idea they gave him on the first day. This seemed... Secret? He's likely not supposed to know about it in the first place. He should return and say he walked a different path so no one could ever ask about anything in case this (whatever it is) turns into something bigger.
But on the other hand, there might be more people getting hurt. And if the watch won't help, no one ever will. It didn't feel right. Why did they let such a coward sign up to protect the citizens?
And yet, this was Samuel Vimes. Perhaps young and fairly scared, but the sense of justice was already burning inside of his soul. A small flame so far, just a spark, but it was always there and it will stay within even through the years when he gives up on life in favor of emptying bottles of liquor. Even now it was enough to force him to move further.
He pushed the door open as quietly as possible. He saw no one. Not even in the next room. His gaze fell downwards, noticing stairs leading to a basement and light beaming through at their end. At this point, curiosity wouldn't let him back out. He slowly headed down, testing each stair before fully stepping on it. There was no doubt, that whatever is happening here, it's in that room. Finally, he pulled at the handle.
It was indeed a fight. And in that tense state when chairs are beginning to fly in the air. What surprised Sam much more, however, was the chamber itself. It wasn't a regular dark and cold cellar but rather a well-lit, well-furnished place prepared for what seemed to be a meeting. It was almost fancier than the rest of the house and so were the people inside. The skirmish seemed to contain exclusively blokes in expensive clothes and maybe two or three ladies that might have as well been seamstresses. Sam couldn't tell, he didn't frequently engage with either.
He was convinced that the uniform couldn't be any more noticeable, but no one was paying any attention to his presence. Should he shout something? Like what? "Stop beating each other in the name of law"? That would be embarrassing. He didn't even know if it was really illegal to fight in private.
The shadow next to him suddenly moved. A thin figure tried to quickly sneak behind him towards the exit but he caught the person's wrist before they got away.
"Who are you and what's going on here?" he said as loudly as he dared, which wasn't much. The figure turned and the dark grayish cloak revealed a pale face and a pair of icy blue eyes. They were almost shining through the shadow of the hood, like when cat's eyes reflect light. Sam quickly realised that it's a young boy, only slightly older than him. But their ever-so-insignificant height difference and the serious grimace caused Sam to feel quite little compared to the stranger.
He was pretty...
Pretty suspicious. Yeah. That's what it is.
"I don't think you need to worry, officer," the boy said and tore his hand from Sam's grasp. Except he was immediately stopped by cuffs, one on his hand, one on the watchman's. A shade of shock flew over his face for a split second.
Sam resisted the urge to smile. He was good at this. People didn't consider him worth being careful around.
"I asked what's going on in here. You're supposed to answer the watchmen."
The fight around them was becoming much more heated. "Hey, you!" someone called in their direction.
The tall boy immediately pulled both of them under a table whose cloth was so long it touched the ground. "What are you doing?!" complained Sam, and was immediately hushed.
"I'm not supposed to be here at all. Now take this off."
"No!"
"What do you even expect to do here?"
When Sam didn't answer, the boy rolled his cold eyes and settled on the ground. He took a few seconds to consider the situation while staring the young cop straight into the eyes. Sam grew more nervous, partly regretting getting himself into this.
"Okay then, what do you want?" finally said the boy, who clearly didn't find a way to get away more easily and resigned.
"Who are you?"
"Havelock."
"What's going on here?"
"They're fighting."
"Yeah, no shit. Not funny."
"I don't see how captivating an innocent watcher is helping anyone. Isn't your job more about action than asking questions?"
Something loudly fell on their hiding. It might have been a person.
"You're the one dragging me under a bloody table!" murmured Sam, but he didn't really wish to get out of there. He was much more interested in the tall lad now anyway. What did he say his name was again? Have something... Havelock? Havelock. "And I don't believe you are innocent, Havelock. Who are these people and why are they fighting?
Havelock was currently peeking under the tablecloth.
"While I appreciate the heroic tendencies of our peace protectors, I believe this was a matter of politics before they turned to violence and if you'll insist on attempting to interrupt the events, you will get yourself into far more trouble than you're already in. We should leave and you must return to minding your own business."
"And you to minding yours?"
"Preferably"
"Don't think so. You're under arrest."
Sam wasn't yet that good at reading people, but this raised eyebrow was clearly saying. "Oh come on, you're hardly even a cop!"
Havelock didn't say it, but he still replied in the most condescending voice possible. "I should warn you that some things are out of your control, officer, and as far as I'm concerned I didn't break any laws."
"You've got a knife up your sleeve!"
Havelock sighed. His clothes were good for sneaking around but he still hasn't managed to make a flawless hiding for weapons. It always changed the shape of the fabric a tiny bit. Not much, but when someone had a chance to carefully inspect him up close, it could be noticeable.
"And as you yourself said, you're not supposed to be here," Sam continued. "That only makes me think you mean to harm someone. Or maybe you've already bloody done it."
He stopped for a second.
"Did YOU start this?"
"Of course not. They have gotten into a disagreement that grew until it became simply about letting out frustration. I don't think any of them even remembers the exact words that lead to it. It was a final drop. I am merely... Observing."
Havelock pulled down his hood and revealed dark hair long enough to touch his neck. It suited him quite nicely. He looked like someone from a painting.
"Let me tell you they aren't the brightest. I wasted my evening here."
"What's it all about though?"
Sam didn't like the way Havelock's eyes pierced him all of sudden. "You really can't guess?"
They could hear more people leave the room. If Havelock got startled by it, he didn't show it. "Are they trying to get down the government?" Sam whispered as quietly as possible.
"Everyone is... And stop blushing, it is making you look fairly unprofessional."
Sam didn't feel shy up until now, but the last sentence made him freeze. The blood that was running in his cheeks as his stare wandered over the lean and handsome features (that were now so very, very close) was now pulsing in his head, silencing outer noise by sounds of his own heartbeat. He felt stupid and messy while observed by someone so... Why does he appear so unnaturally flawless?!
The icy gaze was now so incredibly close he could see pure concentration in it. The eyes were like a perfectly flat surface of an ocean made of millions of quick thoughts. He could practically see the complicated hidden clockwork scheming. And the fact that he willingly directed most of the attention towards himself in the form of an obstacle made his head spin. But it wasn't a common kind of fear that brought him on the verge of fainting. Attraction in wrong circumstances and distracted by vague subconscious self-loathing feels like nothing but horror. He made a sorry grimace.
A second later he was lying on the ground, pinned down with the same lean body he was just thinking about, thin lips pressing against his own. He froze as frenzy took over his body. This wasn't supposed to be so pleasant. He felt the long fingers brushing against his wrist and a few seconds later the oher cuff fell to the ground, disassembled.
The kiss (was it a kiss?) broke and Havelock moved his mouth next to his ear. "Aren't you supposed to be fighting, officer?"
Sam attempted moving his arms but his wrist got both stuck in Havelock's firm grasp immediately. "Next time perhaps."
This moment took approximately a million years and then the pressure disappeared and Sam heard quick steps followed by door closing.
He sat up, dizzy, convinced to give up and just return back. But the second he looked down, he jumped up and ran to the stairs, ignoring the still ongoing fight. He raced up and out of the house, stopping in the dark street.
His badge was missing. That bastard must have taken it. It was the one thing he couldn't get back without. The shackles didn't matter and even armor could be replaced or at least there were ways how to explain it's absence but badge...
Some instinct told him to look up and there was indeed a thin figure on the nearest roof. He sprinted after it and it ran away.
It was unbelievably hard to follow someone on a different level, working with different path options. He had to stop on every turn, squinting his eyes for even hints of movement. But the further he ran the easier it became. It felt like an infinite sprint that didn't close their distance even a fraction no matter how long he ran but adrenaline filled his veins and soon his entire mind was focused solely on the chase. It was freeing, in a way, almost addictive. He was loosing breath and his legs were slowly getting shaky but something wouldn't let him stop.
Reality disappeared and every need and pain was forced into a blurry background. The focus was a beautiful thing, despite being fueled by fear that the figure will jump somewhere he can't follow and he will be kicked out from his job earlier than he really started. He couldn't even imagine saying such news at home so he dedicated all power and energy in him to not losing that bloody asshole.
He didn't even notice they entered the Shades. He only registered that the city got quiet enough for him to hear Havelock's steps on the tiles.
The last turn led him into a blind alley but the ending was quite low and allowed him to finally climb on the roofs. This one was old, tiles covered in moss and on the other end there was standing that bastard.
"Give me back that badge!" he shouted, to his displeasure it sounded more like a whine than a command.
"Come and get it," answered the quiet, melodic but also horribly annoying voice.
"No, I can't. I don't give a shit bout whatever you're doing right now I fucking need it." It was a long run to go full speed, his body took a loan for it and now it had to start paying it all back.
"Ts, that's a lot of bad words coming from an official," said Havelock. He took a shiny piece of metal from his pocket, threw it in the air and caught it again. Then he turned around and climbed up on a higher wall.
"Come on! I'm sorry okay? Or whatever you wanna hear. But I'm not walking across this. It will fall down."
"If I was an actual criminal I would be far gone by now. The roof is steady. Hurry up."
Sam slowly walked across and to his incredible relief it didn't move an inch under him. Climbing the second wall was easy enough and soon he was sitting next to Havelock. The tall boy silently handed him his badge and Sam finally breathed out when he had it in his hands.
"I don't know if that seemed like fun to you but I sure as hell wasn't laughing. Some of us are glad they have a job, you know? Instead of... I guess stalking people or something. ... Should arrest you for stealing."
"I'm afraid that would force me to depart without saying goodbye. I need to get back to my guild."
"Which one is it?"
Havelock seemed to hesitate for a few seconds.
"The one on Filigree Street."
Sam made a disgusted grimace and sat further away. He could guess this one. "I think I need to leave."
"I don't kill people for a living," said Havelock, unexpectedly softly. "It's not really my thing. I'd prefer to use the skills in something with more... Perspective."
Sam, who was now much more gullible than he will be in several years, reconsidered if what he heard about the guild is horrible enough to repel him from such an acquaintance, and took it as an acceptable answer.
"Like?"
"I don't know. Politics perhaps."
"You need assassin skills in politics?"
"Only if you want to do it long term."
Sam chuckled. "So you'll be like a next crazy patrician or something?"
"I'll see."
"Yeah. Sure. And I will be a duke."
Havelock ignored the note.
"You have a habit of randomly kissing people?" Sam asked suddenly. The pause gave him an opportunity to build up the courage to mention it, not sure why he wanted so much to get back to the situation.
Havelock shrugged his shoulders.
"It merely seemed like an effective distraction. But if you would like me to do it again..."
He was now resting his forearms on the roof and staring at the starless foggy sky.
"I don't think I... I shouldn't... Prolly don't."
"So you won't let a mysterious nocturnal temptation seduce you for a thrill?"
"Don't think so highly of yourself."
The soft chuckle that escaped from Havelock's mouth was perhaps more endearing than any touch. He didn't need to know him for long to realise it isn't a common occurrence in his behaviour.
They sat quietly for a minute. Sam was contemplating whether he will lose his job tonight or not.
"Do you know what time it is?" Havelock asked, frowning as the sky started to slowly lose its blackness to a slightly lighter dark blue.
"Oh gods!" yelled Sam at the question and hid his face in his palms. "I forgot that bloody ring somewhere. I'm supposed to be shouting some bullshit every hour or so. I'll have to go back there and find it."
He felt a light patting on his shoulder. "Well I wish you good luck with that but I sadly have more places to be," said the other boy. He leaned closer and gave him a kiss on his cheek while holding Sam's head up with one hand. It was cold, the evening air turned Havelock's nose and lips nearly into ice but it spread exciting warmth around Sam's body. His breath grew heavy when Havelock stood up and waved him goodbye. "I will wish you luck," said the mysterious temptation and disappeared into darkness.
....
It was after the revolution. John Keel was dead along with a lot of other men. Young Sam Vimes was standing in the chaos, hot heavy tears running down his face and the smell of lilac, mixing with all absorbing dread, and irreversibly making a connection with it that will follow the watchman for the rest of his life. No one was paying any attention to him whatsoever so he didn't feel any need to hide his sobs. Not while standing above dead bodies.
His circling thoughts were interrupted by cold long fingers interweaving his. He turned and saw a tall boy in dark clothes with a tousled lilac branch in his other hand.
They didn't say a single word, only stood there until Sam stopped crying and then Havelock disappeared and young Sam never saw him again.
....
Many years after that, when any memories of the handsome assassin were long drowned in alcohol and lost, captain Samuel Vimes entered the oblong office and stood before the new patrician.
It was a tall man, dressed in pure black, and sitting stiff and straight, unsimilar to his predecessors.
Vimes risked one look at the pale face and got pierced with such an intense and cold stare he had to resist running away and rather focused on a space above Vetinari's shoulder. Since then he kept it there whenever he could.