#When Vimes woke up his...younger corpse was gone as was Carcer.

[nevertheless-moving]

“Shit,” Lu Ze swore. History monks were not, generally, given to vulgarity. But, given the circumstances, it was more or less the only appropriate response.

Lu Ze swore again, more creatively this time, as the distortions around them became increasingly unsettiling.

“What happens now,” Vimes rasped, still cradling the corpse in his arms.

It is a strange thing to mourn yourself.

But he was just so small.

Carcer giggled helplessly in his restraints. “Should be interesting, huh.”

“Oh, be quiet, you vile man. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” Another monk snapped. 

“Nope,” Carcer said, with an obnoxious popping of his lips. “But I’ve got a few guesses.”

“THIS IS ALL WRONG,” Death said.

“Yes, we know,” Lu Ze sighed, rubbing his brow. Reality splintered further, the surrounding troops, which before appeared distorted as if by mist, now simply appeared distorted. Vimes’ stomach twisted in empathy and revulsion.

“I LOATHE TIME TRAVEL” Death said, approaching the Sam Vimeses. The older, living one scowled defiantly, pulling the small corpse away. 

“There’s no time for that,” Lu Ze said sadly.

“HE IS DONE,” Death agreed. “REALITY CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH.” 

He turned empty eye sockets towards the monks, as if to glare judgmentally. “PARTICULARLY WHEN IT HAS ALREADY BEEN TWISTED UP LIKE THIS,”

Vimes shuddered as the reaper swung his scythe, passing through his younger self without slowing down. A terrible chill fell down his spine, but the vague unsettling form to the world around them settled into a more familiar pattern. Cracks still ran through the length and breath of the sky, ground, and people.

“FIX THIS,” Death commanded the monks. “BEFORE THE AUDITORS GET INVOLVED.”

“Right,” Lu Ze steeled himself.

He took a slow, oversteady breath. “Alright people, get ready—we’re —we’re going to make another trouser leg.”

"Now?? Here?"

“We’re not prepared.”

“ARE YOU MAD?”

“What about—”

“It’s too big a change—”

“Just do it!” he snapped. “Unless anyone has any better ideas!”

A moment of crystalized hesitation, then the monks got to work, spinning glittering devices and furrowing their brow in concentration.

“I’m sorry,” VImes whispered, shame-faced, “I tried—”

“It’s not your fault. And it doesn’t matter anymore,” Lu Ze said brusquely. “Now hold still— this is going to hurt. A lot.” He reached a hand forward, then paused.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered. “But sometimes we are called to live through things we would rather not. And sometimes... we are called again." He tapped the center of the blood soaked Commander’s forehand.

“Wha—AAARRGH

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