The Curtain Draws on the stage of the Fourth Wall, with a handsome young man with pointy ears and pants that are classified as indecent even by Chippendales in center stage

Robin: Now girls and boys, I'd like to apologize for the lack of updates here at this little fic. Our author's gone respectable on us, and that means I've been forced to wait out my grand entrance for a few three months. Now, this wouldn't be so deplorable if some of the readers hadn't decided to skip town as well coughFrostehcough. So I'm sorry to say that instead of answering all your nice reviews, I'm going to seduce every major Discworld character until I see some results, girls and boys! I-

Robin drops out of sight through a trap door on the stage. The author walks out, sheepish

Ok, sorry about that, but Fey are full of themselves. I wanted to apologize for the lack updates, but between starting work full time (on top of classes!) and the arrival of Thud, I've been in a bit of a writers' block for this story. I know where it's going and how it end up, but getting there's still a problem. Hopefully, the extra length and character background will help ease the pain. Also, look for a couple of other goodies, including the start of Blank Ned and my collaboration. (You have been warned, Frosteh!)

So, yeah. And the bonus: PRATCHETT SAID YES(well, most likely) TO THE QUESTION OF PUPPIES IN CARROT AND ANGUA'S FUTURE! REJOYCE, TRUE BELIEVERS OF THE OTP!

Cough Er…. Yeah, back to the fic.

Everyone thanks for the reviews, and keep at it! Nothing says write more than cozy critiques. They help, honest. Flames will be used heat the Watch house. Thenkyeww.

Locks And Doors, Chapter 8: Bloody spots of the past

(or, The Authoress is dead. Long Live the Authoress!)

Somewhere in the past, a frightened child watched through the keyhole of a locked door. His mum had put him there for his own protection, but it hadn't stopped him from lifting the handle this and that way to bounce the lock back- she didn't know he had watched her do it the last three times when she had forgotten the key.

Not that Mummy could complain much right then. She was still too busy fending off the drunken fists of Not Daddy. He'd come home a few minutes before, stinking of smoke and alcohol that the child could smell it from the other side of the door. Not Daddy had been trying to find the money Mummy made making sick people better. But Mummy said she wasn't going to give him anymore. The child had watched this scene before; but Mummy said that it wasn't that Not Daddy didn't love them, he just got…angry sometimes.

But maybe it was the empty bottle this time, or the fact Not Daddy wasn't stopping after a few drunken passes.

"Gimme the gods-damned money, you whore!" Not Daddy had Mummy by her hair now.

"Please, Aaron- you'll wake the children!" That earned her a slap across the face.

"Why the fuck should I care, they're not mine! I took them in as my own after Lupis kicked the bucket, though, and you repay me by hiding my money!" The child stepped back from the door when Not Daddy looked at it.

"Its…not….your…money, you pig! And you gave me no damned choice in the matter! Threatened to throw us out if I didn't!" Mummy tried to twist out of Not Daddy's hold, scratching with her nails on his bare skin. The child was awed- he'd never seen his mum stand up for herself before.

Not that it made much difference. Not Daddy was a drunk and a coward, but Not Daddy was a big man. The alcohol dulled his pain, and he had the advantage. It just wasn't fair!

Something in the pit of his belly stirred, replacing the fear of Not Daddy with anger. It made its way up his spine, making the child's heart race slow to a methodical thump, up to coil around his brain, stirring up images of the nastiness of Not Daddy had done to all of them the past few years. It struck something horribly primal and much older than the child himself when he heard the bottle break against the table. It pushed him out from behind the door before Not Daddy could press the jagged edge to his mum's throat. "Let her go!"

Not Daddy looked up at him, ignoring Mummy's moans of grief. "Lookie here! The eldest brat's come to the rescue of dear old whore." He threw Mummy into the wall, where she slumped, unconscious. "Whatcha gonna do, little man, dribble on me?" The bottle lashed out, catching the child in the chin.

Whatever that ancient, primal thing that had awakened in the boy now screamed through every nerve and vein.

And the child was a child no more.

They found him, cradling his mother softly, completely unaware of the blood that drenched him from head to toe. His blue eyes were glassy and unfocused when he looked up at them, unaware of the horror that surrounded him. In the next room, the twin babes slept soundly in their cribs, untouched by the madness without.

While the others moved to remove the remains of a one sided fight, one, looking barely out of his teens, bent down to look at the boy. He pulled a rag from a pocket of his patchwork coat, wiping some of the blood off the boy's face. He noted the single cut that traced the jawbone, from chin to ear, on the left side. "That's probably going to leave a scar, kid."

The blue eyes focused a little. "Who're you?" It wasn't more than a whisper, but it was a start.

The young man smiled. "I was a friend of your dad's. I was hoping to get here sooner, but that's life."

"My…Dad…?" He caught the boy's chin, holding it in place before he could see the …mess he'd made.

"No, not that guy." There was a firmness in his voice that seemed to ease the boy. "Your real Dad. You probably don't remember him. But I do. And he asked me to look after you- you're a special guy, you know that?"

Blue eye opened wider, seeing the light of day; eyes that so resembled another man's.

"Really special."

"Like hell you're my brother, Robin. What the hell do you want?" There was a hint of a snarl at the back of James' throat. Whatever the relation was between the two men was, the tone of James' voice spoke of tensions that rivaled Angua's.

An overly dramatic sigh escaped from Robin. "Well, it sounds so much better than 'cousin' now doesn't it? And young lady, I hate to bring it up, but I'm only half 'fairy'...you tend to call them elves, here, do you not?"

"In more ways than one…" James mumbled.

Vimes' eyes nearly crossed trying to work out all the information that had been transmitted the last 15 minutes. He almost wanted to go ask Igor for an extra brain; his was having a hard time keeping up on its own. "He's a fairy? I thought they were a foot high and flew around…"

The comment raised a delicate eyebrow. "Actually, I think you tend to call them elves, here, do you not?" Something of that smile was primal- both dangerous and sexual at the same time. Now, Sam Vimes was all for the idea of people being free to decide what they want, but somewhere in his brain was desperately hoping that smile wasn't directed at him.

"I think you're thinking of Pixies, Commander Vimes." Sara's faint smile concerned him; something about this …man had her worried. "And I don't think they've had wings for thousands of years. They probably traded it in with their fashion sense a millennia ago."

"That was cruel, Sara. Particularly coming from a girl who preferred trousers to skirts for-" He was cut of by the killing glare the lady gave him.

"Robin, what are you doing here?"

There was something very… slippery about the smile he flashed at his cousin-in-law. "Good heavens, I completely forgot about that. Your father asked me if I wouldn't mind checking up on you to see how you were, and to congratulate the two of you. Seems he and your mother are quite anxious to know about their newest grandchild." His smile was reaching the ranks of greased pigs on a hot day.

The ambassador groaned slightly at the news; if any around had in-laws they would have recognized the groan of unpleasant memories that generate from awkward silences at family reunions, generally when the wrong answer is given for particular questions(1). Sara, however, let a small grin float up to her face.

(1)this is a universal problem with all spouses' family. No matter what you do you're never quite good enough for their baby.

She grabbed Robin's elbow and spun him around towards the door. "You're a wonderful man, coming all this way to bring us news from home! Let's get you back to the embassy, and you can tell me everything that's been going on, ok?"

To his credit, the half elf got the message very quickly; Vimes saw only a moment's confusion on his face- but the moment was enough. Ah ha, he thought, savoring the moment of triumph- he had been right to thing there was something else going on.

But a really suspicious bastard would wonder if he wasn't meant to catch that moment- after all it took a truly good actor to get the timing for failure just right…

Robin looked hurt. "You'd take me off the streets, hide me away from the world for only your own enjoyment? Sara, dear, I knew you wanted me, but not that badly."

James by all accounts was taking this flirting rather well, and it was only if you were standing right next to him would you have heard the warning growl in his throat. Angua tried not to think how similar it was to the sound right before a cornered wolf pounces….

Robin seemed not to hear. "And anyways, you haven't even introduced me to these wonderful people- especially this gorgeous stud…" Vimes watch in fascinated horror as the self proclaimed half-fae slinked over to Carrot. "What's your name, gorgeous?" Vimes had to bite his cheek hard not to laugh at Carrot's expression.

Angua couldn't decide between laughing, crying or pounding this idiot into the ground. That is, until she heard in accented Canine, "Love, I think he's taken…" This caught her off guard- the smell off him had been so strong she hadn't even noticed that the fox draped over his neck was still alive. She was so off guard she didn't even notice him turn his attentions to her.

"My, my… Such a lovely lady for such a lovely man, I can't believe I didn't see it. Such a ménage a trios…." He scooped a loose hand and kissed it.

It was, however, abruptly cut off when James grabbed one of those overly pierced ears and dragged it forcibly towards the exit. "Enough, you twit!"

Sara watched them walk out the door before covering her eyes with a hand. "I apologize, as an emissary for my country. He's one of those things that keeps crawling out of the deep end, no matter how hard we try to cover him up. But please, do come for dinner. I mean, let us make up for this, at least." Her eyes darted to the door. "Again, I apologize. Good bye!"

Vimes watch her rush to the other retreating figures. Her features had a tinge of worry as she had left, and he highly doubted it was about the…the… guest's behavior. Something she didn't feel like sharing with the Watch. Suspicious wheels and paranoid cogs spun in his head- perhaps yet another war would be erupting? Or something more sinister, such as a possible assassination, or a death? Perhaps-

The machine that made up the suspicious bastard part of Vimes swerved, wobbled and crashed as he began to overhear the argument going on behind him.

"-No, really! It spoke in Canine to him!"

"And he understood?"

Angua shrugged her shoulders. "Seemed to, as far as I could tell. I could barely smell anything- he reeked of magic and some sort of musky dust…I hadn't even smelled that it was living, let alone his emotional state! I think the dust was from the coat, though- that thing looked like it had been re-sewn more times than Reg Shoe has."

Carrot didn't say anything, but tapped his chin. "It was very interesting, wasn't it?"

Vimes blinked. "What was?"

"Oh, the coat, sir. If I'm not mistaken, some of the fabric used in the left sleeve was at least from the Era of Lord Minestone- the stitching technique hasn't been duplicated since! They had examples in the Weaver's Guild Museum, but those were inferior copies made decades later. And to think he had it right there, sewn next plain linen…"

Vimes raised an eyebrow at Carrot. Sometimes the wealth of information that flowed from his Captain's mouth made him wonder if the reason Angua liked going on patrol was it was the only time Carrot's nose wasn't nostril deep in dull education. "Well, perhaps the coat was a hand-me-down. I think we have more to worry about this new arrival than simply the make of his coat."

Carrot nodded absently. "Of course- although, I couldn't help but noticing the stitching for all the patches was the same style- as if they were done by the same hand…"

"Enough, captain. Anyway, you said that neck warmer was alive, Sergeant?"

Angua nodded. "The fox was alive- and speaking to him, sir, although it was just in Canine. Except, well…it had a funny accent, kind of like those tourists that we keep getting in the summer."

"Not good." Vimes grunted. "Well, hopefully they won't spot Buggy keeping a close eye on them from the sky. Now, I've got to go meet with Vetinari." As if the day couldn't get any more weird.

Vetinari looked over the usual stack of complaints at Vimes. "Something bothering you, Commander?"

Vimes ignored the stare, focusing instead at a small dent just to the left of the Patrician's head. "Not me, sir. But I think that there is for the Myrrnatian ambassadors."

Vetinari looked unperturbed. "Hmm, well, it may have something to do with Agatean pirates taking four of their trading vessels hostage. Where did you deduce this from?"

"They had a visitor that made them uneasy, sir- bit like an unwanted relative. Sergeant Angua says he smells of magic- claimed he was half-fairy or something."

Vetinari's eyebrows drew together slightly. "Half-fairy? Perhaps you should be discussing this with Archchancellor, Commander."

Vimes let the inner scowl show a bit. "Perhaps, sir. We have enough to deal with- we don't need someone with pointy ears and a patchwork coat stealing child-" Both of them were surprised when the paper in Vetinari's hands ripped. "Er…you alright, sir?"

Vetinari places the two halves neatly on the desk and waved a dismissive hand. "Of course, Vimes. Don't let me detain you."

Vimes was halfway out the door when his confusion was interrupted by the Patrician's strained amusement. "However, if you could, kindly suggest to Captain Carrot that racing ambassadors through the streets and delaying traffic on the Brass Bridge is not exactly covered in the duties of the Watch."

The door closed with a solid bang. After a few minutes, the Patrician nodded slightly at the entrance of his secretary.

Drumknott cleared away the torn paper. "Would you like me to have someone find him for you, sir?"

Vetinari didn't say anything at first, lost in a memory- something Drumknott had never seen his employer do. But it was over before Drumknott could worry about the Patrician's strange behavior. "No. No, that won't be necessary. Now about the complaints about the Lawyer's Guild…"

Carrot noticed him as he chased after an unlicensed thief on top of the Opera House. After the thief learned that even a pulled punch can make kidneys cry home to mother, he strolled up to greet him. He did notice the gargoyles, who normally wouldn't move if given a choice, had all given the man a good few feet of space, while still moving to get a better view of him. Carrot didn't think on what this could mean.

"Hello James! Enjoying the view?"

The ambassador hardly moved at all, and Carrot wondered at first if he hadn't been heard.

Then the cigarette, grasped between two fingers, was pulled away, and the now empty mouth angled away to let the smoke stream out. "Are you always this bloody

chipper?"

"Well I do try and keep an optimistic view on the world…"

"That, my good sir," He rolled his eyes and let another breath of smoke vanish into the wind, "was a rhetorical question. Saw you caught your mark." He nodded to the Watch House, where the unlicensed thief was being dragged in.

"Yes, hopefully he'll learn his lesson."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

Carrot didn't answer.

"Thank god, for a moment there I thought you really were as empty-headed as you look." The cigarette didn't even bother to leave his mouth this time, as his hands splayed out behind him, slightly. Carrot watched in fascination as the man's legs bunched up underneath on the edge, then kicked to flip him over, upside down on the edge. A moment was used to let out another wisp escaped beside the cigarette, as if this was a natural part of life, like walking. With a deliberate slowness that made the unnatural bend of the body even more impossible, the feet continued their semicircular movement, allowing the body to follow. For a moment reality seemed as bent as the body had been; bright blue eyes met the indifferent gaze and saw beyond it, into a cold darkness that could swallow the world. It called for blood and vengeance- hadn't he seen something like in Mr. Vimes' eyes once? If he had been so lost, he would have felt something answer that call, white for its black, justice for its vengeance.

Suddenly a flock of ravens, feeling the need for a dramatic entrance swooped by, one or two learning the hard way that gargoyles didn't know the difference between them and a pigeon.

Somewhere, one Dramatic God was arguing with Another; their two impressive displays having smashed into each other like two carts who'd missed their respective 'Halt' signs.

Carrot realized he was being frowned at. "I'm sorry?" He said, realizing he'd missed something the other man had said.

James shook his head. "Never mind… The wind's changing, Captain Carrot."

"Is this about the ships?"

The cigarette gave its last puff as James shook his head. "I wish. The Agatean Empire isn't too much of concern to us, now that Emperor Cohen's gone to whiter pastures."

Carrot didn't say anything, but shifted uncomfortably. He knew Cohen very, very briefly.

James sighed. "I've got enough blood on my hands to drown the world…"

"You're hands seem clean from here."

That earned Carrot an eye roll. "I know dwarfs are literally-minded, but surely even you have guessed I was speaking metaphorically." Before threw the butt of the cigarette into the maze of pipes, his hand brushed the thin white scar on his jaw line. "Forget about it. Just thinking about my step father."

"Oh. Was he a nice man?"

"No. Beat me and my mum within an inch our lives, actually."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. Gave me this, just before I killed him."