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“Sam?” asked Sybil.
“Hmm?”
“Is everything alright? You seem a little off.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. You’re acting as if someone is threatening you with retirement again.”
“Not anytime soon, if I can help it.”
“I know.” Sybil faced him with a concerned look. “But you’re upset, I can tell.”
Sam Vimes sighed. He really couldn’t get anything past Sybil, no matter how much he tried. She simply knew him too well.
He hadn’t really wanted to get into it, but if he was honest with himself, something was off. He wasn’t sure what, or why. It had been a fairly normal day in a fairly normal week. Nothing especially bad had happened. As a matter of fact, things were good. Very good. Things were ticking over nicely, or as nicely as things could go in an institution like the watch. Of course, things banged and creaked every so often, and sometimes things got stuck and you had to unstick them. But that was business as usual.
Really, you’d expect he’d be happy about it. And he was happy, he was sure of it. It was just that there was something in the way. Something nagging at the back of his mind, buzzing like a wasp nest. It made his neck tingle, almost as if he knew that something terrible was about to happen.
His life was too good right now. He didn’t trust it. Where was the next catastrophe, the impending flood? Where was the first shoe?
“Sam!”
Sam flinched. He’d been staring, unseeing, at the fireplace. Now he looked over at Sybil. Her face was etched with concern.
“Sorry dear,” he said.
“It’s alright.” She smiled warmly at him. “You remember that you can talk to me, right? There’s no need for you to chew things over on your own.”
“I know.”
“Good.” She shifted closer and took his hand in hers. “Now, tell me about it.”
Sam sighed. “I’m not sure if there’s anything to tell.”
“I doubt that. Something must have happened, surely!”
“No, that’s what I mean! Nothing happened.” He wiped his free hand over his face in frustration. “Everything’s okay. More than okay! Nothing’s going wrong, the watch is running more or less without issues, nobody’s trying to kill me and I’ve got time for things, for once! We’ve even had dinner together most evenings. I mean… It’s good. Everything’s good .”
“But?”
“But… I’m not feeling it. I know I’m happy, I must be happy. It’s just…” he gesticulated vaguely as he searched for the right words.
Sybil waited patiently, stroking Sam’s hand. He stared down at it. It made him feel like he wanted to cry.
“I don’t know,” he tried again, “I just feel… down in the dumps.”
“Down in the dumps?”
“I don’t know what else to call it. Strange? Stuck?” He faltered. “I wish I could explain it, Sybil.”
Sybil leaned in and gently lifted his chin with her hand.
“Look at me.”
He did. Her eyes were warm and full of affection. Sam felt a surge of emotion and it made his eyes sting. He clenched his jaw. Sybil gently cupped his cheek and started stroking it with her thumb.
“Where do you feel it?” she asked. “Describe it to me.”
“What good’s that supposed to do?”
“Humour me, dear.”
“Well… my head.”
“A headache?”
“No, it’s like… like someone’s holding my brain with both hands and sort of… squeezing it.” he mimed it as he talked, and laughed nervously when Sybil smiled. “Not painful, just…”
“A feeling of pressure?”
“Yes.”
“Anywhere else?”
“Down my neck, it’s…” he grimaced and tried to massage the back of his neck as he continued. “Prickly. Like someone’s breathing down my neck. Feels horrible.”
“Alright. Head, neck. Anything else?”
“In my… chest, I think. Feels like… feels like… Good grief, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, Sam. Just describe the sensation, we’ll figure it out.”
Sam nodded and took a shuddering breath. He hadn’t noticed when it had started, but he was trembling now. “It feels like… pressure, again, I suppose. As if someone’s got their hand on my chest and they’re pushing.”
“Where?”
“Right here.” He tapped his sternum with a finger.
Sybil gingerly moved her hand and traced a line from his chin to his neck with her fingers, down to his sternum. Then, almost methodically, she carried on all the way to his stomach, where she lay her hand down flat.
Sam felt her warmth, even through his shirt. Something bubbled up inside of him and whatever it was made his breath catch in his throat.
“Relax, Sam,” Sybil told him, “The sooner you let go, the sooner you’ll feel better. Trust me.”
“How–” he rasped and cleared his throat, “How do I do that?”
“Just focus on my hand. Concentrate on how it feels.”
Sam closed his eyes and tried to turn his full attention on Sybil’s touch…
…and felt himself crumple like a cardboard box under the weight of the world. His vision blurred as a myriad of unnamed emotions, ones he didn’t even know he had, rushed to the surface and filled his eyes with tears. He sobbed.
“There, there,” Sybil said, with feeling, and grabbed both his hands in hers. “It’ll be alright, Sam. I promise .”
“I still don’t know what the hell’s going on,” Sam managed, in a strangled voice.
“You don’t have to. Just don’t force it back, yes?”
Sam nodded and whimpered. It felt good, whimpering. He felt like he was supposed to whimper, because this hurt , to the point that it became physical. He sobbed again and squeezed Sybil’s hands.
“I can’t deal with this,” he forced out past the lump in his throat, “I can’t!”
“Yes, you can,” said Sybil in a calm voice, “In fact, you are dealing with it. And doing very well too! ”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are! I’m very proud of you, Sam.”
Sam Vimes looked at his wife through the haze in his vision. The last modicum of control he had started to slip away. It was like trying to hold on to a piece of wet soap in a bath.
“What did you have to go and say that for?” he managed.
Not wasting any more time on words, Lady Sybil bent forward and gathered her husband up into a tight, all-encompassing hug.
That seemed to do it. Sam finally let go and let himself be engulfed by his wife. His beautiful, brilliant wife. And he cried. Cried like he hadn’t cried since he was a toddler. Cried until his head ached and his throat stung, cried until he felt empty and weak and liberated. Cried until he was hollowed out and there was nothing left but the warmth of Sybil’s embrace and the comfort of her words as she softly whispered them into his hair.