Power Play: Chapter 6: Moving On
By Tinselcat
Rated: R for violence
Disclaimer: All characters and places (and most nouns) belong to Terry Pratchett and are used without permission (except for Brian, which I doubt he would want anyway). Don't sue. The only thing I have of value is my computer (which is full of my crappy artwork) and my fish (who has mood swings).
Author's Note: Hey, look, another short chapter. How about that?
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***************
Brian, rain dripping from her cloak and hood, pounded down the hallway toward the Oblong Office. It was empty. She grabbed a lamp-lighter by the arm as he passed.
"Vetinar. . ." she gasped.
"In his sleeping quarters," the servant stammered, looking wide-eyed at the frantic woman in front of him, "The watch found him yesterday. But he's not taking visitors. . ." The servant's words were lost on the short, wet visitor who was already slipping across the smooth, polished floor to the nearest stairs.
Rincewind scrambled to his feet in blind panic from his position leaned up against the wall, when he saw the wet, bedraggled and accelerating form of his worst nightmare (Brian) barreling down the hallway toward him. Unable to stop herself due to the forward momentum and the wetness of her boots, she skidded across the floor, flew past Rincewind and crashed into the door to Vetinari's bedroom.
The door opened a crack to reveal the doctor's worried face, "yes?" He looked uncertainly down at the sprawled, stunned girl lying on the floor in a slowly expanding puddle of water.
Rincewind seized the opportunity and dashed up to the door, eliciting a groan from Brian as he stepped on her, "I want to come in!"
The doctor scowled at him from behind his spectacles, "I've already told you, Mr. Rincewind, milord is not taking visitors. Please, stop knocking on the door."
The door was shut harshly in his face.
He turned around and scowled at Brian, "Oh, don't get up, please. It's not like I need help getting into that room!"
She sat up and shook her head, spattering the front of Rincewind's robe.
"It's not like I want to know if he's alright" his voice began to get shrill, "It's not like I even *need* to know! It's not like I-"He suddenly fell silent, curbing himself just in time to stop the utterance of something that he wouldn't be able to take back, even if it were true. His temporary bout of backbone melted and he resumed his usual uncertain hunch, rubbing his hands over and over themselves to give them something to do.
Brian stood up and tried to look tall and businesslike with a growing welt on her forehead. "How is he?"
"How would I know?" moaned Rincewind, "they haven't let me see him. Not once." He rubbed his hands over his tired face, "The only people to go in there are the Doctor and Mr. Drumknott, and they're not talking."
The sound of approaching footfalls bounced off of the stone walls and Commander Vimes came into view, looking very pissed off.
Saying nothing, he immediately strode to the door and pounded on it, using his best, most commanding copper voice to demand admission.
"You'll have to wait like all the rest, I'm afraid." Came the muffled reply from inside.
"I don't recall asking you here to deal with this, *doctor*," Vimes spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, "I sent another specialist up here, one who knows what he's doing!"
The door opened a crack and the doctor poked his scowling face out. His expression clearly conveyed the disapproval he had for Vimes' conduct. He adjusted his spectacles, "Are you referring to the horse physician?"
Vimes paused a moment, his integrity combating his dignity. Integrity won. "Yes, I bloody well am! Now where is he?"
"I sent him away. He obviously had no skill in the treatment of human beings." The doctor sneered.
"He's treated more watchmen than you can count!"
"Precisely, Mr. Vimes."
The door was slammed in Vimes' face.
The commander of the watch whirled around. His two-person audience flinched at his expression, and for a moment feared for their health and safety.
Vimes squinted at them. He thrust a finger at Rincewind, who gave a cry of alarm.
"You! You're that wizard from the university. What are you doing here?" he strode up to the unfortunate wizard and thrust his face mere inches from Rincewind's, "Did you have something to do with this?"
Rincewind's jaw opened and shut silently as his mind raced through the reasons, both real and imagined, that this man would want to disembowel him. Policemen made him nervous. He felt guilty, even if he had done nothing wrong. At least, nothing that they could possibly know about. Of course, in a mind such as Rincewind's even an Omnian nun would want to separate him from the mortal coil, so being faced with an angry copper wasn't doing any favors for his nerve (or lack thereof).
Thus faced with what he was convinced was almost certain death, he had two options: try running, or shamelessly beg for his life. Although running had certainly got him out of a great many deadly situations, the man before him was wearing short breeches, which clearly showed his well-defined calves; rock-hard from decades of running through the streets of Ankh-Morpork.
He decided on the latter course of action.
Rincewind threw himself to the floor, grabbed the copper's ankles and began wailing, "I confess! I did it! I was me! I slept with him!"
"Oh crap!" growled Vimes, trying to lift one of his feet out of the skinny wizard's death-grip.
"I'm so sorry! I swear, I didn't think I was doing anything wrong!"
"Look, sir, you-"
"Okay! I admit, I knew it was wrong! I knew the whole time! But I promise, I never thought I'd get caught. . . SHIT! I mean, I didn't. . . I wasn't. . . he made the first move!" Rincewind seemed to run out of words then, and resigned himself to laying on the floor, glued to Vimes' ankles, awaiting the terrible wrath of justice to rain down upon him.
Justice tapped him on the shoulder and asked to be let go.
Rincewind released the wrathful justice's ankles and promptly fainted.
Vimes looked up. "Is this man's health something that I should be worried about?"
Brian sighed and looked down at the unconscious wizard. "No. . . Well, probably not. I mean, maybe, if you're concerned about Havelock's future personal happiness, but at the moment. . ." she shrugged.
Vimes crossed his arms. "I should probably arrest you."
"I know."
"Bugger it. It's not worth my time right now." His eyes were drawn to Vetinari's door. Nothing seemed important now. Nothing except Havelock Vetinari. The phase "Vetinari's Terrier" crossed his mind. He frowned. But it was true, wasn't it? Whatever happened, if Vetinari called, he would come running. . . and end up waiting five minutes with that infuriating clock for all his trouble. There was an entire city where people were committing crimes every minute of every day, but right now, there was only one thing on his mind.
He pursed his lips and looked down at Rincewind. "Did they really?"
Brian's face cracked a grin for a moment. "Yeah. It was pretty damn hot."
"How the hell would you know?"
She just waggled her eyebrows at him.
Vimes looked down at her hand, "What the hell happened to your finger?"
Brian sheepishly massaged the bandaged stump of her small finger on one of her hands, "Oh, this. . . interesting story about that, you see, I was up near the hub, and I was attacked by this group of the most lecherous old men in leather underwear that I've ever seen! One of them tried to make love to me, while another one in a wheelchair bit my finger off! You can't imagine how insulted I was! Well, I told them that if that's how they were going to treat a lady, than I wanted nothing to do with them!"
Vimes raised an eyebrow. "So you just walked away?"
Brian tilted her chin upwards, aspiring to look at Vimes down the length of her nose, but only coming out cross-eyed, "Yes."
"Really?"
"Well. . . maybe I wasn't *walking*. . ."
". . ."
"Okay, so it was closer to running, really. . ."
". . ."
"And screaming. Well, I got away, didn't I? Doesn't that count for something?" Brian turned to the closed door. She turned to Vimes, all humor gone from her face. "He'll be okay, right? I mean. . . we're not losing him, are we?"
Vimes chewed on the inside of his cheek and granted her a sidelong glance. "He won't die, if that's what you mean. He was badly hurt when we found him, but there wasn't anything fatal."
"But will he really be all right?"
Vimes frowned and didn't answer.
********************
Vimes didn't realize that he'd dozed off until someone nudged him in the shoulder. He snorted as the half-burned cigar fell from his lips into his lap. He stood up from his seat in a chair that was probably intended to be decorative and brushed the ashes from his breeches. He grunted as he looked up at the doctor.
"What now, do you want me to leave the wing? Is my mood affecting your work?"
The doctor sniffed. "Personally, I would feel gratified if you left the city altogether, but for the time being, I'm willing to put my own well- being on hold. Lord Vetinari is awake. He wishes to see you."
Vimes bolted toward the door and nearly fell flat on his behind as the doctor grabbed his arm in a firm grip and tugged him back.
"Commander, if you please," He growled, "I don't want you upsetting him. He's only had two days to recover and-"
"Wait a minute!" interrupted Vimes, "Two days? It's been two days?"
"Yes. Perhaps you should invest in a watch."
"That's very funny. . ."
The doctor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He wasn't a man with a sense of irony. Or humor.
Vimes massaged his temples. How had he been here for two days? He looked around. The floor was littered with greasy papers, scattered with crumbs, which the butler hadn't gathered up yet. There was a small desert of ash around the chair Vimes had vacated. The wizard was slumped against a wall, hat over his eyes, dozing and the bounty-hunter was nowhere to be found, although her bags and cloak were piled nearby.
"I won't upset him." Vimes murmured as he pushed past the doctor into Vetinari's room.
He closed the door quietly behind him.
It was dim and warm inside, the air slightly stuffy from days of closed doors and windows (another bright idea courtesy of the Ankh-Morpork Society of Health and Medicine). Vimes blinked as his eyes adjusted and approached the tall, thin form of Vetinari silhouetted against the window, between the twin pillars of the curtains.
Vimes wasn't sure exactly where to stand. It was all well and good with a large desk of dark, impressive wood between them, but now, it was only an expanse of carpet.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
The room was too quiet. There was no maddening clock to grate against his nerves, no muffled shuffling of papers from Drumknott's desk.
"Sir?"
"I'm leaving, Commander."
Vimes worked his jaw for several moments before he found his voice. "I. . . I beg your pardon? What do you mean?"
Vetinari turned to face Vimes. He held a familiar blue-eared, scruffy- looking cat in his arms. He looked tired, as if he didn't have enough energy to keep up his familiar air of dignity and power. "I cannot stay here any longer. I have assigned my duties to the appropriate people, who will carry them out until a new patrician is elected."
Vetinari deposited the cat on a table. It attempted to rub its head against his stomach, missed and toppled over the edge. Shaking its head and sneezing several times, it meandered over to the fireplace and attepted to look like the whole thing had been planned.
"But sir, you. . . with respect, you can't be thinking clearly! I've seen you handle dragons and wars and murder attempts and always come out on top! You can make it through this!" His voice began to thicken with a rising panic. It seemed that the disc was just beginning to tip upright again, and he was finding that it was just on its way to tip over in the other direction. "They haven't won, sir."
Vetinari rested his fingertips on the table and gave Vimes a piercing look. "Haven't they?"
Vimes focused his attention just over Vetinari's right shoulder. "Sir?"
"You needn't skip around the subject, Commander. You know as well as I that if they'd evaded your best efforts for two weeks, they could certainly do the same for much longer. I mean no disrespect to you and those under your command when I say that you found me because they wanted me to be found. They finished their business."
"Sir-"
"Drop it, Commander." Vetinari said sharply, his composure slipping for a moment, "That's an order. You will receive further instructions from my clerk."
"But-"
"Good day, Commander."
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Uh oooooh!! Don't worry, contrary to the implication from the title of this chapter, this isn't the last one. I just can't let something like this sit unresolved, no matter how much angst it generates. Plus, there hasn't been ONE sex scene yet, and that just won't do. There has to be fun sex. Otherwise the fic is incomplete. So, there's your assurance. This thing won't end until I've got my sex scene. MBWA HA HAAA!
By Tinselcat
Rated: R for violence
Disclaimer: All characters and places (and most nouns) belong to Terry Pratchett and are used without permission (except for Brian, which I doubt he would want anyway). Don't sue. The only thing I have of value is my computer (which is full of my crappy artwork) and my fish (who has mood swings).
Author's Note: Hey, look, another short chapter. How about that?
**************************
***************
Brian, rain dripping from her cloak and hood, pounded down the hallway toward the Oblong Office. It was empty. She grabbed a lamp-lighter by the arm as he passed.
"Vetinar. . ." she gasped.
"In his sleeping quarters," the servant stammered, looking wide-eyed at the frantic woman in front of him, "The watch found him yesterday. But he's not taking visitors. . ." The servant's words were lost on the short, wet visitor who was already slipping across the smooth, polished floor to the nearest stairs.
Rincewind scrambled to his feet in blind panic from his position leaned up against the wall, when he saw the wet, bedraggled and accelerating form of his worst nightmare (Brian) barreling down the hallway toward him. Unable to stop herself due to the forward momentum and the wetness of her boots, she skidded across the floor, flew past Rincewind and crashed into the door to Vetinari's bedroom.
The door opened a crack to reveal the doctor's worried face, "yes?" He looked uncertainly down at the sprawled, stunned girl lying on the floor in a slowly expanding puddle of water.
Rincewind seized the opportunity and dashed up to the door, eliciting a groan from Brian as he stepped on her, "I want to come in!"
The doctor scowled at him from behind his spectacles, "I've already told you, Mr. Rincewind, milord is not taking visitors. Please, stop knocking on the door."
The door was shut harshly in his face.
He turned around and scowled at Brian, "Oh, don't get up, please. It's not like I need help getting into that room!"
She sat up and shook her head, spattering the front of Rincewind's robe.
"It's not like I want to know if he's alright" his voice began to get shrill, "It's not like I even *need* to know! It's not like I-"He suddenly fell silent, curbing himself just in time to stop the utterance of something that he wouldn't be able to take back, even if it were true. His temporary bout of backbone melted and he resumed his usual uncertain hunch, rubbing his hands over and over themselves to give them something to do.
Brian stood up and tried to look tall and businesslike with a growing welt on her forehead. "How is he?"
"How would I know?" moaned Rincewind, "they haven't let me see him. Not once." He rubbed his hands over his tired face, "The only people to go in there are the Doctor and Mr. Drumknott, and they're not talking."
The sound of approaching footfalls bounced off of the stone walls and Commander Vimes came into view, looking very pissed off.
Saying nothing, he immediately strode to the door and pounded on it, using his best, most commanding copper voice to demand admission.
"You'll have to wait like all the rest, I'm afraid." Came the muffled reply from inside.
"I don't recall asking you here to deal with this, *doctor*," Vimes spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, "I sent another specialist up here, one who knows what he's doing!"
The door opened a crack and the doctor poked his scowling face out. His expression clearly conveyed the disapproval he had for Vimes' conduct. He adjusted his spectacles, "Are you referring to the horse physician?"
Vimes paused a moment, his integrity combating his dignity. Integrity won. "Yes, I bloody well am! Now where is he?"
"I sent him away. He obviously had no skill in the treatment of human beings." The doctor sneered.
"He's treated more watchmen than you can count!"
"Precisely, Mr. Vimes."
The door was slammed in Vimes' face.
The commander of the watch whirled around. His two-person audience flinched at his expression, and for a moment feared for their health and safety.
Vimes squinted at them. He thrust a finger at Rincewind, who gave a cry of alarm.
"You! You're that wizard from the university. What are you doing here?" he strode up to the unfortunate wizard and thrust his face mere inches from Rincewind's, "Did you have something to do with this?"
Rincewind's jaw opened and shut silently as his mind raced through the reasons, both real and imagined, that this man would want to disembowel him. Policemen made him nervous. He felt guilty, even if he had done nothing wrong. At least, nothing that they could possibly know about. Of course, in a mind such as Rincewind's even an Omnian nun would want to separate him from the mortal coil, so being faced with an angry copper wasn't doing any favors for his nerve (or lack thereof).
Thus faced with what he was convinced was almost certain death, he had two options: try running, or shamelessly beg for his life. Although running had certainly got him out of a great many deadly situations, the man before him was wearing short breeches, which clearly showed his well-defined calves; rock-hard from decades of running through the streets of Ankh-Morpork.
He decided on the latter course of action.
Rincewind threw himself to the floor, grabbed the copper's ankles and began wailing, "I confess! I did it! I was me! I slept with him!"
"Oh crap!" growled Vimes, trying to lift one of his feet out of the skinny wizard's death-grip.
"I'm so sorry! I swear, I didn't think I was doing anything wrong!"
"Look, sir, you-"
"Okay! I admit, I knew it was wrong! I knew the whole time! But I promise, I never thought I'd get caught. . . SHIT! I mean, I didn't. . . I wasn't. . . he made the first move!" Rincewind seemed to run out of words then, and resigned himself to laying on the floor, glued to Vimes' ankles, awaiting the terrible wrath of justice to rain down upon him.
Justice tapped him on the shoulder and asked to be let go.
Rincewind released the wrathful justice's ankles and promptly fainted.
Vimes looked up. "Is this man's health something that I should be worried about?"
Brian sighed and looked down at the unconscious wizard. "No. . . Well, probably not. I mean, maybe, if you're concerned about Havelock's future personal happiness, but at the moment. . ." she shrugged.
Vimes crossed his arms. "I should probably arrest you."
"I know."
"Bugger it. It's not worth my time right now." His eyes were drawn to Vetinari's door. Nothing seemed important now. Nothing except Havelock Vetinari. The phase "Vetinari's Terrier" crossed his mind. He frowned. But it was true, wasn't it? Whatever happened, if Vetinari called, he would come running. . . and end up waiting five minutes with that infuriating clock for all his trouble. There was an entire city where people were committing crimes every minute of every day, but right now, there was only one thing on his mind.
He pursed his lips and looked down at Rincewind. "Did they really?"
Brian's face cracked a grin for a moment. "Yeah. It was pretty damn hot."
"How the hell would you know?"
She just waggled her eyebrows at him.
Vimes looked down at her hand, "What the hell happened to your finger?"
Brian sheepishly massaged the bandaged stump of her small finger on one of her hands, "Oh, this. . . interesting story about that, you see, I was up near the hub, and I was attacked by this group of the most lecherous old men in leather underwear that I've ever seen! One of them tried to make love to me, while another one in a wheelchair bit my finger off! You can't imagine how insulted I was! Well, I told them that if that's how they were going to treat a lady, than I wanted nothing to do with them!"
Vimes raised an eyebrow. "So you just walked away?"
Brian tilted her chin upwards, aspiring to look at Vimes down the length of her nose, but only coming out cross-eyed, "Yes."
"Really?"
"Well. . . maybe I wasn't *walking*. . ."
". . ."
"Okay, so it was closer to running, really. . ."
". . ."
"And screaming. Well, I got away, didn't I? Doesn't that count for something?" Brian turned to the closed door. She turned to Vimes, all humor gone from her face. "He'll be okay, right? I mean. . . we're not losing him, are we?"
Vimes chewed on the inside of his cheek and granted her a sidelong glance. "He won't die, if that's what you mean. He was badly hurt when we found him, but there wasn't anything fatal."
"But will he really be all right?"
Vimes frowned and didn't answer.
********************
Vimes didn't realize that he'd dozed off until someone nudged him in the shoulder. He snorted as the half-burned cigar fell from his lips into his lap. He stood up from his seat in a chair that was probably intended to be decorative and brushed the ashes from his breeches. He grunted as he looked up at the doctor.
"What now, do you want me to leave the wing? Is my mood affecting your work?"
The doctor sniffed. "Personally, I would feel gratified if you left the city altogether, but for the time being, I'm willing to put my own well- being on hold. Lord Vetinari is awake. He wishes to see you."
Vimes bolted toward the door and nearly fell flat on his behind as the doctor grabbed his arm in a firm grip and tugged him back.
"Commander, if you please," He growled, "I don't want you upsetting him. He's only had two days to recover and-"
"Wait a minute!" interrupted Vimes, "Two days? It's been two days?"
"Yes. Perhaps you should invest in a watch."
"That's very funny. . ."
The doctor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He wasn't a man with a sense of irony. Or humor.
Vimes massaged his temples. How had he been here for two days? He looked around. The floor was littered with greasy papers, scattered with crumbs, which the butler hadn't gathered up yet. There was a small desert of ash around the chair Vimes had vacated. The wizard was slumped against a wall, hat over his eyes, dozing and the bounty-hunter was nowhere to be found, although her bags and cloak were piled nearby.
"I won't upset him." Vimes murmured as he pushed past the doctor into Vetinari's room.
He closed the door quietly behind him.
It was dim and warm inside, the air slightly stuffy from days of closed doors and windows (another bright idea courtesy of the Ankh-Morpork Society of Health and Medicine). Vimes blinked as his eyes adjusted and approached the tall, thin form of Vetinari silhouetted against the window, between the twin pillars of the curtains.
Vimes wasn't sure exactly where to stand. It was all well and good with a large desk of dark, impressive wood between them, but now, it was only an expanse of carpet.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
The room was too quiet. There was no maddening clock to grate against his nerves, no muffled shuffling of papers from Drumknott's desk.
"Sir?"
"I'm leaving, Commander."
Vimes worked his jaw for several moments before he found his voice. "I. . . I beg your pardon? What do you mean?"
Vetinari turned to face Vimes. He held a familiar blue-eared, scruffy- looking cat in his arms. He looked tired, as if he didn't have enough energy to keep up his familiar air of dignity and power. "I cannot stay here any longer. I have assigned my duties to the appropriate people, who will carry them out until a new patrician is elected."
Vetinari deposited the cat on a table. It attempted to rub its head against his stomach, missed and toppled over the edge. Shaking its head and sneezing several times, it meandered over to the fireplace and attepted to look like the whole thing had been planned.
"But sir, you. . . with respect, you can't be thinking clearly! I've seen you handle dragons and wars and murder attempts and always come out on top! You can make it through this!" His voice began to thicken with a rising panic. It seemed that the disc was just beginning to tip upright again, and he was finding that it was just on its way to tip over in the other direction. "They haven't won, sir."
Vetinari rested his fingertips on the table and gave Vimes a piercing look. "Haven't they?"
Vimes focused his attention just over Vetinari's right shoulder. "Sir?"
"You needn't skip around the subject, Commander. You know as well as I that if they'd evaded your best efforts for two weeks, they could certainly do the same for much longer. I mean no disrespect to you and those under your command when I say that you found me because they wanted me to be found. They finished their business."
"Sir-"
"Drop it, Commander." Vetinari said sharply, his composure slipping for a moment, "That's an order. You will receive further instructions from my clerk."
"But-"
"Good day, Commander."
********************
Uh oooooh!! Don't worry, contrary to the implication from the title of this chapter, this isn't the last one. I just can't let something like this sit unresolved, no matter how much angst it generates. Plus, there hasn't been ONE sex scene yet, and that just won't do. There has to be fun sex. Otherwise the fic is incomplete. So, there's your assurance. This thing won't end until I've got my sex scene. MBWA HA HAAA!