Wow. This took a long time. It didn't help that I lost this chapter about seven times because of my stupid computer.

Thank you, my long-suffering readers: zimo, Acy (comments duly noted- cheers), Smallprint, sunny-historian, llemun, Chess, Max Krugman, soph, Lucy, chunk, Draco, supreme vimesfan, Dancing Mouse, Aislynn Crowdaughter and Egleriel.

I honestly think this isn't worth the wait. The real action comes next chapter…if I ever get round to writing it. DAMN GCSEs!

Disclaimer: I do not own Discworld

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Today was different. On a day like this, Corporal Carrot of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch would usually be patrolling the streets, keeping an eagle eye out for criminals- or, at least, criminals with the common decency to break the Law where the Law could see them.

But today was different. Today he sat in a small room in the Watch House, his helmet on his knees, watching the rise and fall of his superior's chest, listening to the gasping rattle of agonisingly slow breaths. Two days had passed since the gonne incident. Two days since Dr Cruces had been found: neck snapped, body lying against a stone pillar. Two days since the discovery of a horrendously weak Samuel Vimes, lying frighteningly still in an ever-increasing pool of his own blood. Two days since he had heard those weak words- "You're in charge now- look after the city for me. Tell Sybil I love her. And don't let the Watch get to the state it was..."

Carrot closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. That horrific picture seemed to be continually playing in his head. If only he hadn't lingered by Angua's body…If only he'd run faster…If only…If only…If only…

He'd never felt so dmn helpless.

In the unnatural silence of the sick room, he heard the door open behind him and soft padding footsteps coming towards him. He sighed as Angua placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned his head to rest his cheek against it.

"Lady Sybil is resting. I thought it best to leave her for a while- she needs to be alone." Angua spoke softly, as if she dared not disturb the deathly quiet in the room. "Carrot, you can't do this to yourself. You haven't slept for two days." The strain of her injuries and the stress of the last few days were clearly evident in her voice.

Carrot lifted his head, keeping his gaze fixed on Vimes. "I can't," he murmured. "I just…I can't…"

Angua stepped in front of him and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. He didn't resist as she locked her gaze with his, protecting him from the sight of the sick bed. Vimes lay on his back in the bed. White bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest, with countless herbal compresses bound over the injury to lessen infection and staunch the bleeding. He lay unmoving, his skin containing the pallor of a corpse. The Patrician had ordered the best doctors to attend the captain- hereby banning all of the human doctors in the city- even resorting to sending word to Klatch and even further afield. They could do little but try to make Vimes comfortable- none had ever dealt with this sort of wound before. No one expected him to live.

The corporal clenched his eyes shut tight and gritted his teeth to block the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him. It was too much- it was all too much. Angua continued to hold his shaking form as he dropped his helmet to bring hugely muscled arms up around her, crushing her to him. "What will we do without him?" he whispered as he buried his head in her shoulder. She grimaced and tightened her arms around him.

When his tears had subsided, Carrot released Angua and wiped his face with his hand. The werewolf regarded him for a moment, then came to a decision. She carefully removed her breastplate and placed it on the floor. There was moment of bodily uncertainty, and then a graceful golden wolf was stood in her place. Carrot stared at her, confused. She whined and trotted to the bed, gently nudging Vimes with her nose.

Carrot's brow furrowed. "There's a small boy trapped down a well?"

The wolf shook its head and opened its strong jaws, resting her teeth against the skin of Vimes' arm. Her meaning was clear- better a lycanthrope than a corpse. Carrot stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Not now. He couldn't bear it. Not until it's the only way…"

Angua whined again. Her tail rested between her legs, but there was a fierce, animal determination in his eyes. She would not watch Sam Vimes die. There were too many people in the city who needed him. Not just Carrot, but the rest of the Watch as well. Not just Lady Sybil, but the women whose lives were made a little easier by the generous gifts of their anonymous benefactor. Times were changing, and if the Watch was to change with them, it needed a captain who was prepared to push policing into the Century of the Fruitbat. Maybe Sam Vimes was that man.

And she would not let him die. She removed her teeth from Vimes' arm and turned away. She took one last look at Carrot, then left the room to make her vigil.

The big corporal didn't watch her leave. His eyes were once again fixed on the still form of his captain as the desperate rattling breath continued to wheeze agonisingly through him. Carrot's lip trembled and he buried his face in his hand as tears threatened once more. He knew Vimes would probably die. He knew it. The chances of him surviving were a million to one. But, as Carrot should have known, on the Discworld, million to one chances crop up nine times out of ten.

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