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After one arrest, several bruises and a lot of chaos, the parade continued. Vimes offered to take the thief boy to the yard himself, mainly to run away from the whole awkward situation, but Carrot decided to attempt fixing it by loudly praising Vimes's brave decision to "save the Convivium by shielding it from crime" and the wizards (slightly pushed into the idea by Vetinari) happily made him the hero of the day so they didn't have to deal with the uncomfortable consequences that would occur in any other scenario.*
*It might even postpone the lunch after all!
So instead of freeing himself from the whole circus, he got pulled into the very centre of it and only after a ton of awkward meaningless conversations the tornado decided to spit him out for a second.
It was a tiring day already despite it not being even close to its end, but there were probably no more options to escape from the Unseen University before the whole thing was over.
He picked up a glass of orange juice and tried to weave his way out of the maze of people to the edge of the hall. His elbow hurt from the fight that occured after he finally caught the thief and he was getting more bored and annoyed every second.
Out of self preservation he got lost in his thoughts instead of listening to the bleak chatting around and for this reason he nearly bumped into lord Rust without noticing it.
"Running from your wife, eh?" the man growled maliciously. He was still furious about everything that happened.**
**Which obviously didn't stop him from showing up, as it might create the idea that he's somewhat ashamed of his actions.
He didn't really face any repercussions, and he wasn't capable of admitting any humiliation happening to him, but he wasn't willing to forgive Vimes a single second of his existence and he was happy to see storm clouds forming over the watchman's head.
"What are you talking about?” asked Vimes, who needed a second to remind himself of the concept of running away from things.
"You don't have the courage to face her after what happened there, I bet. Condolences. I wouldn't either."
Realisation dawned on Vimes.
"Is Sybil angry?"
‘Of course she is, you idiot! It must have been the last straw! You promised her not to run a way! Promised!’
‘Fuck!'
"I'd suggest you keep running, Vimes. Far."
‘I need to go find Sybil.’
"And don't stop."
‘And I definitely don't have the time for this asshole right now. ‘
“Since you like Klatch so much you could perhaps move there.”
"Oh fuck off, Rust."
He looked around the ballroom, attempting to find his wife. It wasn't hard, she stood out with all her magnificent majesty and grace. He thought perhaps she should have led the parade.
Their eyes met across the room. She usually smiled at him, but this time there was a faint frown in her brows instead. She looked like this at dragons with permanent injuries when it became clear they won't be able to heal and function on their own.
‘Fuck fuck fuck'
'See? She gave up on you. And the worst part is you knew it would happen, didn't you? You must have thought of that when you decided to start running.'
He attempted silencing this inner voice.
‘I didn't make a decision! It just happened, I just ran. It was instinct.'
His inner voice smirked at him.
‘Oh great. So we really are a dog. Stupid muddy hound. Better get home before you start chasing your own tail in public.’
He sighed, his throat went dry. He drank the whole glass in a few gulps, knowing it won't satisfy the thirst of a man who's used to longing for alcohol and changed the direction of his walking towards lady Sybil.
She left the group of nobles she was talking to and met him half through the way.
He briefly hoped she would give him a scolding smack on the head and that would be it. But Sybil didn't do such things. She didn't even really look angry. She was stone calm and greeted him with kind voice, but there was something in her eyes. Something he couldn't point out, but he was praying it wasn't disappointment.
It probably was.
"I ehm... "
‘Maybe it's not so bad.’
"We got the bloke."
"Yes Sam, I know. Everyone knows."
‘Oh gods, it is so so bad.’
He ran his palm across his face. She was towering over him, and he was starting to feel really small.
"I'm sorry. Are you angry?" he stammered apologetically.
She sighed. "No, of course not. I know who I married after all. I wouldn't try to change you."
Whatever Rust thought about angry wives, Vimes wished he was a little closer to the truth and she wouldn't keep all the blame silent. The parts that went unspoken were the worst.
She wouldn't try to change him, but there were times when she saw the good things in him that he never noticed and she managed to pry them out on the light of day and she had the right to expect more effort in return.
"Well I apologise, I should have left it to Carrot."
She looked somewhere above him.
"Maybe you should."
‘You hurt her you asshole!’
"I'll make it up to you," he breathed out. "I love you. And I’m so sorry."
She smiled, luckily for Vimes it showed even in her eyes. She hasn't yet completely lost it for him.
"I told you I'm not angry. Nothing really happened after all."
"Well you should be. I behaved like the bloody terrier they compare me to."
She gently took him by the elbow. "Maybe I'll just have to put a leash on you next time," she whispered as she led him towards the little circles of shallow smalltalk that they were supposed to be engaging in. This time he followed without any complaints.
"If it makes you happy I'll let you," he whispered back when he overcame the headspin the sentence gave him.
"Very well," she laughed. "But for the starters I think it will be enough if you just don't sneak out this time."
"Anything you wish," he agreed in awe of avoiding the potential catastrophe.
"Gorgeous, then I suppose you also won't mind attending lady Selachii’s soirée tomorrow.”
There was a lot of things to do and he planned to spend the whole day working, but even his workaholic brain had to admit it wasn't bad enough to risk his entire marriage.
Anything, anything as long as he won't lose her.
“I'll be there, dear.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, it will start at six, you can put it in your Dis-Organiser.”
He froze.
‘Right. That thing. That thing that kept trying to predict all those deaths and that you ‘lost’ on the beach. You absolutely cannot afford bringing that bloody thing up right now.’
‘You have no other choice though. You can't lie to your wife.’
“Yeah… about that…”
Lady Sybil knew him well enough to know what he's about to say. She let go of his hand and gave him a sad look. “Samuel!”
“Wait, listen-”
“I know you weren't exactly keen on it but-”
“It broke! I would never throw it away otherwise!”
She blinked.
“Oh, I see then,” she said, but there was a sigh in her voice that tore his heart apart.
By that time they were surrounded by people who required attention and there was no space to discuss the matter further. Sybil smiled at everyone and shook all the hands that had to be shaken, but Sam felt it wasn't over.
He only gave her two lame excuses and it was impossible to tell if she forgave him. She probably did, she always did, but he thought he ought to do more.
He tried to be as proper as possible, but their ride home was quiet anyway. Sybil looked tired.
They didn't get greeted by Willikins, because all the staff had a free evening, but there was a small pile of fresh post on the table.
One of the letters was a brochure for the bloody Dis-Organisers. He picked it up and shifted through it, while his wife went upstairs to remove her wig and the considerable amount of heavy jewellery.
He grumbled to himself, and read through a couple of articles about new models of those annoying devices, sitting in one of the chairs.
He hated that horrible pocket calendar and he knew he probably couldn't stop even if he really wanted to make Sybil happy. It was all beeping in the worst moments, interrupting in conversations and most importantly reminding him of meetings he didn't wish to attend. He threw the pamphlet away and opened the rest of the post that wasn't delivered specifically to Sybil. It was much easier to do this when he wasn't dealing with it over his already overflowing office table.
He deemed most of them unimportant so he put them aside, blew out all the candles, and went upstairs, taking the Dis-Organiser brochure with him.
Lady Sybil was sitting on their bed, in her nightgown and bathrobe. He sat next to her and vaguely gestured with the piece of paper.
“Should probably buy a new one.”
“Sam you don't have to do this.”
“No, no, no, you were right, there are times when I need it.”
She kissed him.
“What happened to the old one anyway? They make such a fuss about their products being resistant to damage.”
Sam bit his lip. Should he tell her? He thought it quite disturbing and he had a tendency to protect his wife from anything and everything that could possibly hurt her but the truth was that she wasn't fragile at all and she could handle it probably even better than him. Plus it definitely won't sound as heavy when it won't be said in the context of the already terrifying moment.
“It just… got confused. It thought I was still in Ankh-Morpork and that we were at war. And then it started announcing everyone’s deaths like we were actually fighting. And we weren't! Carrot was planning a football match, Nobby was doing a dress up, everyone else was standing around and yet the thing insisted that I lost them all. I don't know if it was shocked from the war not actually happening or if it got a stroke from the heat but it was like it got stuck in a different universe.”
Sybil gazed thoughtfully into the distance.
“Oh dear.”
“And then when it decided that I’m dead as well I thought it probably won't be of much use-”
“You as well!?” She gasped.
Sam paused.
“Well - it's not a big deal, it clearly didn't happen,” he tried to shrug it off. “But in the moment it felt concerning.”
She interrupted him by grabbing his hand.
“It is concerning Sam!” she frowned. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that my husband doesn't run into every armed conflict around the world like all my ancestors did and almost immediately I found out that you're on a ship guess where! I would have wanted you to stay here. One would think that's how you protect someone. And now it seems that you going away was the only way to keep you alive. I don't know what to think.”
She spoke quietly and Sam almost felt his heart stopping.
“I'm always trying to do the right thing so I won't lose you and it always gets messy.” She seemed distressed. She must have worried about him quite a deal and now some of it bubbled to the surface.
Sam took her hand in both of his own.
“Sybil, darling, you do everything right. It was just a broken gear somewhere, it didn't mean anything. There's nothing wrong with your decisions.” This sentence made him feel guilty. “I know I often don't go according to plan but, - ehm - you know, it’s not because I don't think it's the right thing to do…”
She gave him a very long inspecting look. Discussing feelings like this wasn't his strongest suit. He usually showed his care in other ways, right now it seemed like he was searching for words in a very limited library.
“I love you," he said.
At least his inner catalogue had this inside.
“I know, Sam, I love you too. It just gets hard sometimes with all the danger,” she sighed.
“Hold on I’ll apologise properly.”
He got on his knees in front of her.
“Sam, darling, it's fine.”
“You deserve it anyway.”
He took her hand and kissed it. She didn't protest any further.
He planted a few kisses there and moved to the fingers, kissing each one separately.
It felt amazing, kneeling in front of her, tracing her beautiful hand with his lips. He wished to worship her like this at all times. It seemed right, she was made to be admired and he couldn't bear making her feel bad. He knew she was willing to forgive him, she always said she knew who she married, but he also knew who he married and he knew it was a goddess.
He once kissed her palm and then rested his head on her tigh.
If he's supposed to be somebody's dog, he will be hers.
“You know," she smiled in that way that made his head feel light, "we did give the staff a free night today.”
Sam grinned in return.
“I'll go lock the door then.”