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Chapter Text

In eternal city strangers were usually treated with a healthy amount of mistrust. This was mostly because there weren’t many strangers to begin with that could be treated in any way, healthy or otherwise and incidentally because the few ones there had been had ensured that it had stayed that way.

In some circles they were even treated with an unhealthy amount.

It was in the circles of the outlaws. Shady people living in even shadier places who pursued their business in the dirty, corrupt streets at the docks of Riverside. Garrett was one of them. He was the shadiest.

That’s why his mistrust was exceptionally unhealthy, when suddenly - at the 5 02 NRy843 – a foreign ship arrived at the port. Well hidden in his allied shadows he had peeked into the darkness, had watched the dirty towboats, which crackled and spat with strain as they pulled the bulky hull of the ship to the docks.

He frowned, crouched down a bit deeper behind the seawater-sodden cargo boxes as the rusty smokestack ejected a grating cough and rasped black smoke into the foggy night.

He had left the sirens rest just a few minutes ago, had immersed himself in the cold night and sneaked quietly across the soaked and slimy floorboards towards the docks. All of them had heard the loud shouts, the barked commands, the chain-rattling, and the smoke-spitting of old ship engines. A lot of them had fled immediately, went into hiding, only a few had stayed. Salty, old sea dogs, tough men that could even put the general into his place.

Something was afoot.

Garret had stayed too, if only for a few moments more than the scared, timid rats which poured out of all the windows and doors of the old bar. Silently he had exchanged worried looks with Basso, who barely noticeably shrugged. After a few minutes of tense listening, Basso eventually lifted a stocky, swollen finger to his ragged hat and with a quick nod excused himself.

Garrett followed suit. The old fence was experienced, informed, and didn’t take any risks. If he didn’t know, what was happening, then nobody did. And his orderly retreat – by any means not an order at all – was still a clear recommendation.

But Garretts escape had been delayed.

Cold and wet the sharp sea breeze bit into the tender skin under his eyes, gnawed with stabbing teeth at his cheekbones and crooked nose. He blinked against the cold and moved his numb fingers. His eyes followed the slim shadow of Erin, who swiped money out of the pocket of one of the many men at the harbour some distance away.

She had always been irresponsible, had done her own thing, never listening to others. She was a loner, even more so than himself. Garrett drew in a sharp breath as one of the guards whirled around and Erin only barely managed to avoid his gaze. His heart was pounding wildly against his ribs. He should go, leave her alone. She always managed to escape, was always lucky.

Or she had him.

A loud shout ripped through the night and both Garrett and the poor, robbed guard, who had been looking for Erin, turned their heads abruptly. Thick ropes had been thrown towards the men on the ground. They were now pulling rhythmically, and the huge, strange two-master crept closer, casting a dangerous shadow across the docks.

It was gigantic. The blackened foremast rose sharply into the sky, pushing Garrett deeper into the shadows behind the sodden crates. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise when he couldn’t see any sails on either yard, although there were clearly devices for them on both masts. He peered curiously into the darkness. A large, rusty smokestack at the end of the ship, still emerged in fog and black smoke, identified the two-master as some kind of coal hybrid.

Carefully, with a pounding heart, he let his gaze flicker back to the bowsprit. His fingers twitched. The foreign ship did not fly its home flag. Something was wrong. It was nameless, flagless, sailless…

It was too dark and foggy to see the stern, but Garrett doubted he’d find any indication as to the ship’s origins there. The rhythmic shouting of the men had died down, the rope tied firmly around the pier. They had to leave immediately.

Tensely, he let his uneasy eyes dart around the place, searching for Erin. He found her sitting on a crossbeam at least twenty metres away, looking straight at him. He watched her silently, but she shook her head, pointing in the direction of the ship. He followed her gesture.  

On the side of the two-master was a device that was normally reserved for a lifeboat. Now, a sturdy plank had been put between the chains and ropes instead, which was now slowly lowered by some of the men still on board.

And on that plank stood a man who immediately let Garretts blood run cold.

He was just like the ship, huge, sinister, and intimidating. A long, deep blue coat covered his square shoulders. Despite the freezing temperatures, he wore it open, only fastened with a wide belt around his waist. A sabre flashed dangerously and sharp at his hips, a crossbow was slung tight across his waist and Garrett was sure he saw the hefty stock of a pistol as well. His hair was dark and matted from the salt of the sea and hard nights on deck. It flowed stiffly over and under the high collar of his coat down to his shoulders.

Garrett ducked a few inches deeper into the shadows uneasily, looking over at the crossbeam, but Erin was gone. He looked around hastily, tried to remain calm and to ignore the adrenaline that was pounding hot in his veins.

He didn't find her. She must have retreated.
Slowly and carefully, he emerged from behind the cargo boxes and, heart pounding, slunk away, back into the stinking streets of the city and towards the clocktower. If even Erin was leaving on her own free will, then it was high time to leave for him too.

The farther he got from the harbour and beyond the muffled uproar, the more his heart calmed. He took a deep breath and stopped.

"Who do you think he is?"

Garrett breathed out softly and looked up at the balcony railing where Erin had sat down and was looking at him thoughtfully. She was rarely thoughtful, always had a bitter smile on her lips. Or at least she had had, before the primal thing. They didn't see each other very often these days.

"Trouble," Garrett finally said. Erin nodded and looked worriedly in the direction they had come from.

"The general was there. I have seen him. You should’ve never let him go, Garrett."

He didn't say anything, just followed her gaze. She was right. He should have ended it. But what a difference did it make now?

"There would have been a successor."

A feeble attempt to defend himself. She smiled.

"You can't stop change."

He lowered his head, then leapt onto the roof directly across from her and looked at her for a moment. She had grown up. The struggle with the primal force and perhaps with Orion himself had made her more mature. He pulled his black scarf higher up his nose, then disappeared into the night.

~*~

His name was Corvo Attano.

He was big, strong, and smart as a fox, a man of the Empire, come to clean up.

For far too long, eternal city had poisoned the organism from the shadows of the empire. Like a swollen, infested tick, the fetid city spoiled the healthy flesh of the system.

If you asked Garrett, the flesh of the system was a rotten fish at best. But after all he was one of those ticks that the man had come to pull.

He snorted softly at the thought and then put the newspaper back on the desk where Basso had been waiting patiently for Garrett to finish reading.

Corvo Attano, Garrett knew that name. He was said to have murdered the empress, stabbed to death in cold blood. Wanted posters had even been put up in Eternal City. He didn't know if they had found him.

"What does he want here?"

Basso raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I don’t know, maybe have a little teatime with the baron.”, he spat sarcastically, then proceeded to cough his lungs out. Garrett raised an eyebrow which made Basso shake his head. “Keep things in order. At least that's what it says here. Nobody can say exactly what it means. But I have a guess.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the newspaper on the table without looking.

"This city is not part of the Empire."

"Not that, but governments have treaties and agreements." Basso circled the table and limped heavily to some boxes behind it. Then he pulled out a book and some old newspaper clippings. "Look here," he put things on the table and Garrett eyed them curiously. "I did some research and found out that some time ago, just after the Anglo-Spanish War, alliances were formed. These lay on hold for a long time as both England and Spain faced difficulties of their own. But now it seems that both governments have been weakened by the events of the last few years and are looking to revive those old ties.”

Garrett scanned the newspaper headlines. Some were from Dunwall, reporting the return of the Imperial Bodyguard, some his transgressions, and still others gang reports, murders, and riots. He saw no connection and frowned.

"What's this all about?"

Basso looked up from the book he'd been nosing through, apparently searching for something in particular, and saw the newspaper clipping Garrett's finger was pointing at. He leaned across the table to read the title. It was a report dealing with the murder of a superintendent by the name of Campbell, the killer unknown.

"Attano did that."

"Mmm..."

Basso turned back to his book and continued browsing through the pages. Curious, Garrett peered at the cover.

"Corvo Attano's activities...", he read questioningly and looked at Basso, who finally seemed to have found what he was looking for.

"Here, this book is full of evidence and reports, all related to the disappearance of Corvo Attano after he escaped execution. He was the Empire's most wanted man, Garrett. And he hasn't been caught once."

Garrett read with concern some of the statements Basso had pointed to. Attano seemed to crawl through the shadows like a ghost. Basso broke the silence between them.

"He cleared his name and is now the highest ranking Imperial guard again. Exactly why he's here I can't say for sure, of course, but this town has a thief problem, Garrett. It's not difficult to deduce, why they sent a man of shadows."

Garrett said nothing, turned back to the book, picked it up and looked questioningly at Basso. The fence nodded in confirmation and Garrett put it in one of his pockets. A little later he would take a closer look at it.

"What are you going to do?" Garrett eventually asked Basso, who was looking down at his desk thoughtfully. The man snorted.

"First of all, burn all this evidence," he ground out, balling up one of the newspapers and tossing it into the brazier at the edge of his desk. "We must do something."

Garrett nodded, then turned towards the door.

It was noticeably colder outside the crippled Burrick, but not nearly as biting as it had been out at the docks. With the warmth of Bassos lair, he also shook off the thoughts of the conversation he had just had. He needed to concentrate now.

His nocturnal forays took him to the Hoverwoods' deserted mansion. It was deserted not because the residents had died, but because they were out of town on vacation. That didn't mean the building was empty however. The general staff and the city guard were still running around and about in the noble rooms. However, the very absence of the Hoverwoods was a blessing, as it wouldn’t be immediately obvious when valuable items disappeared from their possession. Especially not those in secret safes or hiding places that even the servants didn't know about.
His most important target, however, was a letter. A letter, which he was supposed to steal from Lord Hoverwood's study and take to Basso. Apparently, it contained important information. It had been a long time since Basso had personally sent him out on a mission. And that he had entrusted this task to Garrett, of all people, might as well have had its reasons.

The villa was located in the outskirts, where there were many dark avenues and gardens. It was quite the long way for him, but there was no way around it. When he finally reached the mansion, he saw Erin sitting behind one of the walls, sheltered by a sprawling tree, that gave excellent coverage with its dense foliage. It almost felt like déjà vu. And yet Basso hadn't told him that he had sent Erin here as well.

"Erin."

The woman turned around in fright and then looked at him suspiciously.

"Garrett," she replied, but couldn't hide the questioning tone in her voice.

"You obviously didn't expect me."

"His trace lead here," she simply answered, pointing to the Hoverwoods' villa. Garrett frowned and followed her outstretched finger. There was no question who she meant.

"Basso asked me to steal a letter. If Attano is here, it's safer to postpone the mission."

"Attano?"

"Corvo Attano. His name."

"The man who killed the Empress of Dunwall?! I knew I have seen the face before... What does he want here?"

Garrett said nothing.

"He is not in the house. At least not at the moment.” Erin didn't look at Garrett but kept her eyes on the entrance. "He left earlier."

She looked at him expectantly, but he didn't bother to answer. For a few moments it was quiet between them. Something, that had never happened before. Garrett wasn’t used to Erin being quiet. Eventually he gave in.

"We should hurry. Before they come back.”

The two thieves scurried quietly into the garden, onto some cargo boxes and from there onto the balcony, which led into the villa through an open window. He looked at Erin uneasily. She nodded, then glided gracefully over the ledge and into the house. Garrett stayed behind for a second, watched her, as she paused and looked around carefully. She was wary, calculating. Again, something he wasn’t used to. A lot must have happened for her to become like that, for her to lose her recklessness. Finally, he followed her.

It was dark in the hallway, the red, worn carpet muffled their footsteps. To be on the safe side, he briefly held Erin's shoulder again. She turned questioningly and he hissed a few words into her ear.

"Leave no trace and no one may see us."

For a moment it seemed like she would roll her eyes, and maybe she wanted to, but decided against it.
Eventually, she nodded briefly.

It was suspiciously quiet in the hallway. Garrett peeped cautiously through the keyhole of a door in the upper chambers. He had a bad feeling about it. The quicker they got out of this house, the better. He indicated to Erin that the room was empty and then quietly opened the door. Behind it was a bedroom, which was probably used to lodge guests. When Garrett closed the door again, he stopped right in his tracks. His heart dropped to the floor. There was a heavy, dark blue coat hanging on the coat rack. He held his breath, not daring to move. When Erin appeared behind him shortly afterwards, he stopped her with a sharp gesture of his hand and pointed to the garment. She shrugged annoyed. But Garrett told her to back off and she eventually complied. Out in the hallway, he returned to the balcony and motioned for her to follow. She still didn't seem to understand.
It had started to snow.

"His coat is here," Garrett whispered emphatically. She waited. When he said nothing more, she rolled her eyes for real this time.

"And?"

"Do you leave the house without your coat in this weather?"

She was silent for a moment.

"But I saw it, he left!" she hissed, gesturing with her fingers at the street below.

"He must have come back."

"Maybe there is a back door, I didn’t know of.”

Garrett strained to peer down the hallway behind them, but it was silent. He swallowed the snarky remark that this man for sure wouldn’t need a door to enter a house without being seen.

"No time for explanations. We need to get this job over with, any ideas?”

"He's not expecting us. The whole house is heavily guarded except for this floor. He thinks he can take care of himself.” She smirked, but Garrett immediately shook his head.

"This man is dangerous. We take a different route.”

Confused, Erin tilted her head, but then smiled sullenly, seemed to trust his word, and nodded. She was worried too; he could see it.

"The basement would be an option," she whispered, barely audible now.

He didn't answer, just gently slid off the balcony. She followed and showed him the way.

They had to sneak past at least three guards to finally be able to get into the basement unseen. Only someone with something to hide guarded his own basement as thoroughly as Lord Hoverwood seemed to think fit.

It was surprisingly easy to have Erin by his side. She was considerate, careful even. Something he wasn’t used to. She surely had changed.

As soon as they entered the basement, he gave her the clear instructions not to steal anything, well aware of the fact that he probably didn’t need to. It was the first time he realised how overprotective and patronising he behaved towards her. He felt shame sink in his stomach but shoved the feeling aside for the moment, it was important that she didn’t fall back into old patterns. Nobody was allowed to know that they had been here. They couldn’t mess this up. Erin was clearly dissatisfied, but Garrett would not be dissuaded.

Finally getting to the office, he found the letter and quietly pulled both pen and paper out of his pocket. He copied it; the original was not important to Basso. It was all about the contents.

Sir C Attano,

Please meet me at headquarters on 08 02 NRy843 at 9:00 p.m. We will discuss everything else personally.

T.H., Thieftaker General

They left the villa the same way they came.

"What's he doing here?"

Erin asked again when they were finally out of earshot, heading for a path on the rooftops Stonemarket.

"I don’t know."

"And why shouldn't we steal anything? We are thieves, Garrett!”

Eventually, she stopped and looked at him. He snorted amused, then pulled the book out of his pocket, but hesitated to give it to her.

"Basso gave me this," he finally said, then leaned forward and began to whisper.

"Meet me in the clocktower tomorrow morning as soon as it gets light. Make sure nobody is following you. I'll explain more to you then."

And with that he left her and disappeared into the night.
That Attano hadn't returned the way he left the house could only mean that he must have seen Erin. Still, he had done nothing. Had he wanted to catch her in the act?

No, that was nonsense. Erin was a well-known and feared thief, no evidence would have been needed to arrest her. And yet he hadn't done it, had sneaked back to the house and hung his coat on the rack. He had returned in an unconventional way that hid his presence. But why had he so obviously hung his coat in front of the door? A man like Attano didn't make such blunders. No one who fooled an entire country for so long made such blunders. Something was fishy about it. He had to speak to Basso.

~*~

“He made a blunder, Garrett. You're too suspicious."

Garrett was silent and looked gravely at Erin, who was staring back at him uncertainly, arms crossed, and brow furrowed. He didn't blame her; she didn't know what to believe anymore. To be perfectly honest, Garrett didn't know either.

By coincidence, they had already met at Basso's in the evening and so they had explained the latest developments to her directly.

"It doesn't suit him.", he finally whispered absentmindedly and stroked one of the buckles on his armour. Basso raised his bushy eyebrows mockingly.

"Oh, no? Do you already know him well enough to know what suits him and what doesn't? Did you have a little tete-a-tete yesterday, a candlelight dinner?”

Garrett looked him dead in the eyes and didn’t answer. Then he took a few steps towards the desk and noisily dropped the book Basso had given him onto the worn wood.

"It doesn't suit him," he repeated calmly.

Basso nodded, albeit reluctantly, and waved his hand dismissively. He wasn't convinced, but he was worried about his thieves. He sighed in surrender.

"All right, what do you suggest?"

"Attano's expecting us-" Basso clicked his tongue in open mockery and Garrett gave him a murderous look. The fence raised his hands defensively and nodded to him to continue.

"There's a chance Attano will be expecting us at the meeting." He repeated. "He saw Erin outside the house but didn't arrest her. He wanted us to find the letter.”

"Why would he do that?" Basso asked. "If he had known you were in front of the house, he would have picked you up straight away! And besides, if that were the case, he certainly wouldn't have bothered to sneak back undetected."

Garrett snorted in frustration. He had a bad feeling about it.

"I go there. But I want to protect myself.”

Basso threw his hands in the air, shaking his head.

"All right, Garret. And how do you want to do that?!”

The thief smiled.

"I was thinking of an...undercover operation..."

Technically, it was easy. Corvo Attano had come to settle the general's thief problem once and for all, that much was clear. Of course, he concentrated on the few specimens that did not thwart his greedy plans. There weren't many criminals in Eternal City who didn't pay their black tax, but of the few, Garrett was at the top of the list: he was the Dunwall stranger's main target.

What exactly the meeting was about probably wasn't as important as Basso suspected, even if they made it look that way. That explained the many guards in front of the house.

Attano had to be sure that the contents of the letter would reach Garrett. So he'd left the house to reassure Erin if she was too cautious when he was present in the rooms. The fact that he hadn't had her arrested also reinforced his theory. Then he had left the upper rooms unguarded. Sure he could defend himself, but that wasn't the point. He wanted to make sure she would get into the house. He probably didn't realize that Garrett had been there himself. The only thing Garrett couldn't quite explain was the coat.

The fact that Corvo Attano had predicted his (and her) moves so accurately told him more than the whole book Basso had given him. He had to be careful, unpredictable, if he wanted to show up for the meeting.

He was terribly uncomfortable with the idea that had come to his mind. It wasn't his style at all, it was dangerous and risky, he felt incredibly vulnerable, but it was necessary.

Basso was supposed to organize a uniform for the guard without being noticed. Meanwhile, Erin would sneak into the precinct tonight and scout out the shift schedules. She would then choose an unfortunate man who would be in the general's vicinity at the time of the meeting, or that of the room in which it was to take place. Then all Garrett had to do was secretly switch places with him.

The venture was risky. Should he be discovered, there was only the way into the Cragscleft. He was defenceless without his equipment. In addition, he went without a mask. There would be no hood covering his head, no mask protecting his nose. He also had to skip the charcoal around his eyes, which he normally used to hide his fair skin at night. He smiled. Could the general deal with this unvarnished truth?
He hoped he didn't recognize him.

Garrett himself would spend the night lining his pockets once again. He had gone empty-handed too often the last few nights...

Chapter Text

Pride filling his chest, Garrett twisted one of the many gold coins in the dim candlelight of the clocktower, then quietly put it on a pile separating currency from other valuables. The soft noise it made tickled his ears and he smiled. He was nervous. He reached into his pocket once more and fished out some stolen goods, slowly spread them out on the table in front of him ready for sorting.

Garrett had used this afternoon to count his spoils from last night. It calmed the nerves to focus on success.
It was soon time to leave. Only a few hours separated Garrett from his risky mission in the station's headquarters. He snorted softly at his barely noticeably shaking fingers and picked up another coin from the pile in front of him.

He smiled wryly at the stern profile of Empress Jessamine on the foreign coinage. News of her murder had even reached Eternal City at the time, despite their isolated location. Garrett wasn't particularly involved in politics, so he didn't know the exact circumstances, especially since his city itself was also involved in some equally unpleasant riots not too long ago. The new Empress, Emily Kaldwin, was just a child. And she hasn't filled the throne long enough for her profile to be worth stamping on coins. He shook his head.

"Are you getting old?"

Garrett put the coin back on the pile without looking up.

"Come down."

Erin, sitting in the clocktowers window frame, raised an eyebrow, but made no move to comply.

"You can be seen from the street if you sit in there."

Annoyed, she rolled her eyes, but then followed his request. He was surprised seeing her again so soon. Now that he thought of it, they had seen each other pretty often lately. He was snapped out of his thoughts as she moved into his field of vision and sat on the table he was working on, effectively preventing him from continuing with his work. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and looked at her expectantly. It had been a long time since he had anything to do with Erin, the last time it had brought him nothing but bad luck.

"You're early."

She smiled half-heartedly and he returned the gesture.
Erin didn’t answer. Something on the table caught her interest. Appreciatively she took a gold necklace from his work bench, held it in front of her cleavage and hummed contentedly.

"Successful."

Garrett got up, picked up a candlestick from the table and put it in a sack next to his workbench.

"Not as old as you thought."

"I never thought you too old..."

Garrett said nothing. He didn't like the tone of her voice. Garrett had never had the pleasure of seeing the world from the perspective of a valuable item until he saw a similar expression on Erin's face that he personally reserved only for his exceptionally precious collectibles.

"Old enough to be your father."

He was quick to reply so as not to fuel her passion for him. Basso had asked him once why he didn't just take advantage of her admiration, but he'd just clicked his tongue dismissively and said nothing. Basso then laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Garrett wasn't human, he had joked, if he had already become the shadow he always preferred to the company of a pretty lassie. It technically wasn’t Garretts fault. In this city, sickness and death lurked in every dark crevice and Garrett couldn’t imagine any crevices darker than the carefully kept privacies of the lassies or lads Basso could’ve possibly referred to.

It was true though. Ten years ago, he hadn't turned down the gratitude of a customer once or twice. But the fun quickly faded when he was confronted with the consequences of his actions. Thankfully he never caught anything lurking in shady crevices, but it certainly wasn’t worth the risk either. Instead, the different views on life and companionship of his and his previous work accidents eventually put an end to his outgoing lifestyle. He wasn't cut out to live a life of fellowship. His life was lonely and dark. And Garrett wasn't willing to share his shadows with anybody. He certainly wasn’t willing to share them with Erin.

"You’re not my father."

She tore him out of his thoughts with her words. Garrett said nothing, crept to the window and peered out uneasily.

"Did you have any success?"

She smiled again as the tension in the room ceased.

"You could say so… Daniel Cobblestone, a relatively new recruit, quite unimpressive…hmm… he looks just like you.”

Garrett hissed through his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest, but Erin only seemed amused. He rolled his eyes and she continued.

"Cobblestone is to take guard duty outside the general's office, along with Chester Carlisle, a sedated man who is said not to care much about his colleagues… night shift. They are not used to really keeping their eyes open.”

She winked at him, then went back to the necklace she had plucked from Garrett's worktable earlier, trying to fasten the hooks on her neck before continuing. Garrett watched her struggle for some time, then he eventually walked over to help.

“Before his shift starts at 8:30 p.m., he usually smokes a cigarette before joining his colleagues. He rolls them himself. I took a closer look at his tobacco... I don't think he'll be feeling too well tonight."

Garrett smirked and pushed his mask over his nose, finally succeeding in fastening the clasp. With a nod, he motioned for her to follow him. Together they made their way to Basso.

“Cobblestone has hardly ever been on the night shift. He won't look familiar to old Carlisle. And if you are detected, I'm sure you'll find a way to fool him."

Garrett just nodded briefly while he slid down some boxes and then scurried down the narrow alley behind to the crippled Burrick. Erin followed close on his heels.

Basso was tense as well. A little too hastily he turned in their direction as the door swung open and a little too quickly, he limped behind his desk and pulled out a uniform from underneath.

"Freshly washed!" he announced with a groan straightening his back again, proudly raising his index finger and tossing it onto the table. "Had a hard time finding one...your size," he joked. Garrett pressed his lips together and snorted, then walked over and looked at it. He didn't feel comfortable at all. He felt the rough fabric hesitantly and then rubbed his fingers together. Finally, he pursed his lips in resignation and began to undo his cloak.

"I need a mirror."

Basso laughed.

"Very well, Your Majesty."

He bowed mockingly while Erin chuckled softly behind him. Garrett stopped what he was doing and looked sideways at Basso, eyebrows raised, then shook his head and went back to his buckles.

"And a bowl of soap and water."

The demand only encouraged the laughter of the two, but Garrett could control himself to join in. After all, that was just the excitement tingling in his limbs, wasn’t it? He smiled anyways.

"Do you need a razor too, Garrett, to dress up for the Lord protector?"

Now Erin actually burst out laughing and Basso, who probably saw the ice broken, chimed in harshly and loudly. Garrett, meanwhile snickering too, stripped off his arm guards and began to unlace his leather. With each loosened strap, his heart muscle seemed to expand further.

Eventually, Basso sent Erin outside to get him the supplies Garrett needed. With her suddenly gone it grew awfully quiet in the office. Only the occasional click of a buckle or the rubbing of leather broke the silence. Basso sighed.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Garrett," he finally admitted, fuelling the doubt in the thief's stomach, who was just stepping into the pants of the different uniform. They actually fit quite decent. Loosely they hung from his hips, offering a lot of unfamiliar space between his legs and the fabric. He took one of the belts from his own gear and threaded it into the loops. He felt uncomfortably naked, as he was used to wearing very tight clothing, at least from his boots up to his knees, and he also sorely missed the soothing pressure of the straps around his thighs. He tried to convince himself that he had worked without the claw for a long time before too. He didn't need it.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather take a safer route that...well...suits you?"

Garrett gave him an indefinable look, but he didn't get to answer because Basso had just blurted out the question when Erin came back. She averted her eyes in embarrassment, apparently unprepared to see Garrett shirtless. It was difficult for Basso to tear himself away from the thief's eyes, whose gaze only fuelled his doubts. The thief was afraid. Eventually, not without a knowing smile towards her that made Erin visibly uncomfortable, he took the supplies from her and placed them one by one on the dresser.

Garrett cocked his head to the side and studied his face in the mirror. A large crack in the glass and a thick blanket of dust blurred his vision, but it would do. Only now did he see that there actually was a razor lying next to the bowl. He rolled his eyes. Then he picked up the blades and carefully began to remove the irregular stubble on his face. A messy cut wasn't particularly wise under the circumstances.

Erin and Basso stood lost in the room while he got ready for his mission. Garrett felt silly and watched. He had never groomed himself when he was preparing for a night, certainly not that thoroughly. Of course, Garrett paid attention to physical hygiene, it was clearly inconvenient to exude too strong an odour that possible enemies and guards could become aware of, but this was certainly different.
He pushed the feeling away and took the soap, wet his fingers with water and began to wash the charcoal from his eyes. Then he washed his face completely and dried it with the help of his cloak and looked at his reflection.

He felt alien. His eyes were striking because of the different colouring and the scar around his left eye wrinkled the thin skin under his lids like a piece of paper. He had lost a little weight. Pale, his cheekbones stood out in his face, letting the shadows on his cheeks appear even darker than they actually were. A barely noticeable pink mark on the narrow, crooked bridge of his nose reminded him of the dark mask under which he normally hid it. He looked almost like every other unfortunate dog in town who wasn't born with the privilege of eating out of silver plates in a swanky house and instead made his puny coins in one of the stinking fish factories off the docks. Garrett pursed his lips, brittle and thin against his clean-shaven face trying to show off his silliness. He turned away and grabbed the shirt that was lying on the dresser in front of him a little too vigorously.

"You still look like a thief," Basso commented calmly, even though his voice took on a very strange tone. Apprehension didn't suit him. Garrett didn’t answer. Eventually the fence got up clumsily and looked for something in a small cupboard next to the door. He breathed in loudly when he found what he was looking for and held it in front of Garrett's nose. He raised his eyebrows suspiciously as he looked down at the black, cylindrical can in his hands.

"Shoe polish...?"

"For the hair."

Garrett had instructed both Basso and Erin to stay away from the headquarters. Attano was dangerous, he could have his eyes anywhere. Even in the shadows. As soon as he stepped out of the shabby door of the old dive, neither of them was allowed to contact him. No matter how great the danger he was in.

Garrett doubted that Erin would comply with this request. But Erin was smart, and she had learned. She had experienced first-hand how dangerous it could be to overestimate oneself. And somehow, he felt a little safer knowing that she was at least watching over him from somewhere.

The atmosphere in the main room of the restaurant was vivid. People from all over the city came to meet here. Guards and thieves, the rich and the poor, all without an identity. But Garrett wasn't in the mood for an after-hours drink. On the contrary.

8:30 p.m. was the start of his shift...

~*~

Heart pounding, Garrett stood in a dark alley and observed the guard's station across the street. On the corner right next to the shipwright's shop some bored guards patrolled the area. It was brightly lit. Humming softly, the dirty lanterns flickered above the old stone building, making Garrett's knees go weak. If there was one thing, he hated more than the nutshells being patched up next door, it was the harsh, acrid light that would expose him to everyone's eyes. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling all too clearly the side parted hair, his exposed face, and the unfamiliar clothing around his body. Once he stepped out of those shadows, there was no turning back. He firmly resisted the urge to give in to his instincts, struggling to push aside his fear of being recognized. Then he snorted once too hard and stepped out of the shadows into the light.

One of the guards at the door winced when he saw him and went straight for the crossbow that hung from his waist. Garrett's heart sank, but the man burst out laughing hoarsely as the thief squatted down, startled. The second gatekeeper chimed in roughly.

"Didn't see yer coming at all. Sorry, man, what are you sneaking up on?”

Garrett cleared his throat to regain his composure, then crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll keep you awake."

The men at the door laughed again.

"Leave that to the general, rookie." He pointed to Garrett's uniform. The thief smiled. "You better go in now. You're late, they don't like to see that in there."

He nodded goodbye to both of them, didn't bother to turn around as he passed them.
It was quiet inside. Some of the guards said goodbye, but quickly scurried out of the rooms. Garrett was mostly ignored. However, as he neared the break room, the voices grew a little louder and it took quite some effort for the thief not to just stay in the shadows. Eventually he got over himself.

As he stepped through the door, three pairs of eyes looked over at him curiously. Two men were seated at one of the large tables while a young woman was standing in front of them, already facing the door. He nodded briefly. There was a short silence, then the woman turned to one of the men. He was old and grumpy, with thick, dirty eyebrows just above even thicker, and even dirtier glasses. His uniform was just as ancient as the man himself; frayed, tired, and faded. Deep lines creased his broad, sweaty forehead, and his greasy lips glimmered slack in the thin light from the overhead lamps.

"Carlisle, General Harlan is only expecting one more guest tonight. You and Cobblestone-"

"You can talk to me, the old man doesn't give a damn about what you say, poppet!" spat the third man in the room, pulled a sodden toothpick from his yellow tongue and pointed at the young lady, who immediately backed off to avoid being hit by the droplets. Garrett looked at the man curiously. He was thin, maybe a little older than himself, and gaunt, his hair had been slicked back with way too much gel (or shoe polish), his nose was like a raven's beak, crooked and black as if it had been broken several times and then smeared with tar.

"Thank you, Ashtor, but Mr. Carlisle is the shift manager.", the young woman crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. She had large, dark eyes and long, thick, black hair that she wore in a tight bun. Her dark, lush skin loomed menacingly over the puny, fair figures in front of her. Ashtor croaked and threw the piece of wood at her. She didn't respond to him, finally turning and looking at Garrett inquiringly.

"You must be Cobblestone then."

The thief didn't answer, looked at the two men who were eyeing him with interest and hostility at the same time. The woman cleared her throat in annoyance.

"All right. I wish you a lot of fun with these rats. Can use it.”

"Hey!" Ashtor sneered. "Get lost, stupid bitch!" He laughed again and pulled a new toothpick out of his dirty breast pocket. For a moment he seemed to consider throwing it at the woman as well, but then decided against it. She just looked at him again, shaking her head, and then left the room.
Silence fell around the table, but Garrett was not at all willing to break it. An old, broken clock at the far end of the small room showed him that there were 10 minutes left until Attano had to show up at the station. Ashtor sniffed noisily and spat on the floor.

"Can't wait, Cobbstone...stonecop...cobble, nevermind!"

Garrett only gave him a sideways glance and raised his eyebrows briefly, then leaned back and ignored him again.
The adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, setting his skin on fire, and oozing painfully through his ribs. He nervously resisted the urge to tap his foot. A minute passed.
His pinkie twitched treacherously, and he reached under the table, about to adjust his gloves at the wrists, when his fingers only met bare skin. An ice-cold shiver crawled up his spine. He reminded himself to keep his composure, looked at the clock again.
Two minutes.

Suddenly a chair scraped over the tiled floor and Garrett’s heart dropped. The loud and metallic noise startled him. It was the chair of Carlisle. The old, heavy man hoisted himself to his feet like a lazy bear. Garrett looked up into the man's milky, washed-out eyes as the man scuffed his boots heavily towards the door. Ashtor fished out a bottle of beer from his chair, definitely not the first of the night. And most certainly not his last.
Garrett got up and followed Carlisle.

It was awfully quiet in the hallway. Garrett listened uneasily, but the muffled sound of their heavy boots on the dirty carpet, the low, indignant groan of the holes in the walls when the wind whistled through them with too much force, were the only things heard. It was too quiet, much too quiet. Garrett knew silence, knew it well. He knew when it felt more like the dreaded calm before a storm.
But he went on. Slowly and deliberately, controlled, Carlisle at his side, into the lion's den.

The door to the general's office was closed. It was on the first floor of the station, could be reached easily and quickly via the stairs, but as a result also offered no possibility to escape unseen. The main hall was brightly lit and large. Garrett tried to calm down.

The hollow knock on the door from Carlisle's swollen hand echoed through Garrett's skull, finding an answer deep down, vibrating in his bones. The general invited them in.

The office was big and spacious. The general's heavy desk stood chunky at the far end of the room, with bookshelves, a globe, and multiple cabinets behind it. There were even a few stunted plants.
The general himself sat hunched over a document and just waved his hand in their direction dismissively.

"Close the door, you idiots."

Garrett gave the door a little nudge and it shut close with a soft click. Then the two men positioned themselves next to it, one at either side. They didn't have to wait long before another, much louder knock vibrated through the dark wood of the door. Garrett's blood froze, his ears pounded, and his heart hammered against his chest.

"Come in!"

Slowly the handle moved down and surprisingly it was Ashtor's greasy head that pushed through the gap.

"Harlan, sir, you have-"

"Visitor, I know! Get out!"

Ashtor withdrew without another word, the door opened fully, and then Corvo Attano entered the room. Garrett went cold.

The man was huge. The thief could stand on his tiptoes and still might just so come up to his chin. His royal blue heavy cloak draped his body in authority and power and his heavy steps reverberated in Garrett's knees for a long time. Slowly the man walked towards the general, his tanned face grim, telling of fiery battles in the name of the crown and the scorching heat of Spain.
Even the general rose to his feet.

Carlisle was unimpressed.

"Attano." Harlan finally greeted him and shook his hand. The man grabbed it and nodded briefly.

"Harlan," his deep serconian accent scraped harshly down Garrett's spine. He shuddered. Then he blinked a few times, pushing the tingling back into his stomach, not allowing it to get stuck in his throat. "You wanted to see me."

"Correct. I was hoping for a report.”, the general's voice took on a malicious undertone as he looked up at the tall, strange man and spread his fingertips on his desk. Attano stopped, showing no reaction to the challenge in the general's voice, who seemed greatly dissatisfied at that.

"But perhaps you already have results?" he whispered triumphantly. Attano snorted softly.

"The thief is quick... and careful. “, he finally began whispering, ran his index finger over the dark wood of the desk and circled it until it stopped at the globe. It hadn't escaped Garrett's attention that Attano had occasionally stolen glances around the room.

"In my town there is a saying… If you can't catch a rat, you have to lure it."

Garrett knew Attano was expecting him, and yet the statement cut him to the core. He stayed stock still, not moving a muscle, even as his chest threatened to burst. Attano's dark, deep brown eyes roamed the room once more, looked at him, but Garrett kept his eyes fixed straight on the wall, like Carlisle, who was also given a quick once-over next to him.

Attano hadn't recognized him. Relief filled his lungs. For now, he was safe. Harlan, meanwhile, had also left the desk and had limped to the globe, stood in front of Attano and was about to say something when the dark stranger interrupted him.

"Right now, at this very moment, I have all the men and women of the watch stationed in and around the city."

Harlan noisily released all the air he had sucked in earlier in utter disbelief. It even drowned out Garrett's own quiet gasp. Attano looked up at the ceiling, the attic. The hiding place that Garrett would have chosen if he hadn't taken the risk of slipping into a guard's uniform. His instincts had been right, his disguise probably his only chance of escaping this trap.

"The thief is here.", the man finally whispered and smiled slightly. But Harlan had long been speechless. "Two days ago, I had a nightly visitor...", the stranger continued and looked at the boards on the ceiling, searched.

"It only took a little letter, a few more guards than necessary and the bait was perfect." He stopped near the window and looked out.

"There is no escape, the house is surrounded, the guards all carry torches and are spread throughout the city. Do you hear me, master thief? Every alley, every corner. There are no more shadows.”

The room remained silent.

"You knew it was a trap, right? But you cannot resist such a challenge. I'm curious what you've come up with.” He turned back into the room, looked up at the ceiling again, then drew a slim dagger from its sheath.

A quiet noise outside just the door had everyone's heads snapping in the same direction in a split second.

"Guards! Open the door!” Harlan yelled. Garrett obeyed, ripped open the door and just saw Ashtor's boot disappear behind a wall.

"There!" the short-sighted Carlisle gasped, pointing a finger in the direction Ashtor had fled. It suited Garrett. He was just about to run through the door after the alleged thief and thus make a clean retreat when the large body of Corvo Attano, who must have had the same idea, crashed into his back. Garrett fell to the ground, Attano staggered, managed to catch himself while Carlisle scrambled past them both.

"Get him!" Harlan yelled. Attano looked down at the little guard and held out his hand. Hot adrenaline flooded Garrett's chest as he grabbed it tightly and while the man pulled him back to his feet, he skilfully pulled the ring off his finger and slipped it into his pocket. Attano didn't notice, nodded apologetically, and disappeared into the hallway.

Chapter Text

Garrett twisted the ring in the dim light of a candle. The dull silver glinted softly in the warmth of the flame, tempting him to put it with the very special pieces in his showcases. He couldn’t.
This ring was not an ordinary ring that Corvo Attano wore because he thought it pretty. This ring was the imperial signet ring and could plunge all of Spain into a financial crisis. A triumphant grin crept onto his lips as his heart swelled with pride.
He scoffed. But should it fall into the wrong hands, commercial relations, peace agreements and political treaties of every kind would be in great jeopardy. This ring could initiate wars, plunge countries and empires into terribly dark times.
Its loss would undoubtedly drive a serious wedge into the world. And when the economy was strained, there was no more spoils for the thief either. Garrett had to bring it back. As soon as possible and as much as he would like to keep it.

But the danger was too great. Annoyed, he stood up and enclosed the ring in his fist, thinking about how on earth he was supposed to handle this. He couldn't give it out of his hands, it was too probable for a messenger to sell it for its value or even use it himself. Not even Basso. But if he brought it himself, he would be arrested on the spot.

Unless...

He didn't get to the end of his idea, a soft crack, barely audible, made him sit up and the ring quickly disappeared into his pocket.

It was Erin.

"So here you are." She whispered softly and slipped elegantly onto the bed next to him. He didn't react, trying to calm his heart and hoping she hadn't seen his little trinket. There was silence between them for a few seconds. Then the young woman sighed wearily, turned on her side and looked at him. Garrett continued to stare at the wall.

"You’re instincts have been right once again.", she finally said appreciatively. "But that was dangerous."

"Hmmm..."

"He probably thinks you've never been there." She chuckled softly. "You were right under his nose… Tell me, how was he?"

"Tall," Garrett replied briefly, then rolled onto his side away from her. He didn't want to talk, but she just giggled again and slid a little closer. The thief tried to ignore it.

"Tall?"

"..."

"And…?"

Garrett sighed and slid off the bed.

"He was tall. What do you want to hear?"

"Did he see you?"

"…mhm."

She laughed softly again, pushed the veil off her head and got up as well.

“That must have given him quite a lesson. How do we proceed further?”

"We won’t."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"We’re not?"

"It's safer to wait. I don't want a war with that man, Erin. He would win it.”

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. It had been a long time since she openly contradicted him. The last time she fell through a glass dome. He pushed the thought away and ran a hand through his hair. It had taken him hours to wash the shoe polish out of it.

"He's got the whole watch on you, Garrett! Maybe you don't want a war with him, but he sure does want one with you!"

Garrett said nothing, feeling all too much the weight of the ring in his pocket, the pressing danger that grew with every second he held it. He couldn't wait any longer. Nervously he went up to his workbench, dug out a mirror shard and pressed his fingers into the burnt-out ash of the brazier. Then he drew them around his eyes, smearing the coal on his lids. Erin followed him and leaned against the railing.

"Stop running away," she hissed angrily. But he only remained silent once more, just put his scarf around his lips and his hood over his head. His dark cape flowed over his shoulders, blurring his silhouette with the shadows.

An annoyed sound of frustration stumbled out of Erin's mouth. He turned to her.

"I will do what I see fit."

She just rolled her eyes and scoffed. Then she turned and disappeared.

To make sure that she was really gone, Garrett waited another 5 minutes, checked his equipment one last time, then he also left the clocktower.

He slipped cautiously through the shadows, turned right between two rooftops, and slipped over some beams to a window. From there to the left and then quickly over the wooden shacks in the direction of the outskirts. He would pay Attano a little visit.

He shook off the thought that this was the first time in a long time that he had lied to his friends and allies to do things his own way.

~*~

The house was fully emerged in the silky darkness of the night when Garrett finally got to the low wall that separated the well-kept garden from the street. Well hidden behind some crates, he took the ring out of his pocket and stuck it in a narrow crevice between the brickwork, then sealed the cache with dirt and carefully slid out of his hiding place. A little further back was the door with the security lock to the basement. The path he and Erin had taken last time. It was locked. It would take too long to enter the house that way, even though it might have been the safest. His heart pounded and he slipped quietly back out onto the street, another idea forming in his brain. Nobody had seen him. At least he hoped so. If Attano had been watching him, he would be done for. He held his breath, listening nervously into the night, heart clenching.

The wind whispered softly in the treetops, blew the salt of the sea into his face from somewhere far away. Far away, where there were places where the sea smelled of adventure and the shore smelled of home.

He pursed his lips. He was definitely too old for adventures, and it was too late for desiring the warmth of a home. No, his nose was already too spoiled for these things. He breathed out, looked at the house that had been watching him through empty, dark window holes. There seemed to be no guards to prevent intrusion. But Garrett knew Attano enough by now to know that this wouldn’t be easy.
Crouching, he crept towards the cobbled paths that led up to the front door. The soft suede of his shoes made not a single sound on the cold stones, and yet... his intuition told him he was no longer alone. His chest contracted painfully, pressing hard into his throat as he slowly came to a stop and straightened.

"Hello Thief..." A dark, menacing voice whispered softly, close behind him, scraping over the shells of his ears and sinking heavily into his knees. Garrett swallowed drily. He didn't turn around, instead kept his posture with tremendous effort. Only when he felt sure his throat wouldn't give him away did he answer.

"I don't have with me what you're looking for."

Attano took a deep breath, then a step closer and circled him slowly, like an animal its prey. The fine smell of sea salt, wax and candle smoke draped him like a cloak. He really was tall. The hood of his coat covered his hair, and his face was masked by a skull that had Garretts blood stutter. Sturdy metal structures concealed his skin thoroughly, and various gleaming brass constructions cast the image of a death’s head on Attanos features. Curious, Garrett let his eyes dart over his appearance, but didn't dare sharpen his eyes and take a closer look. Eventually Attano stopped, seemingly curious and walked towards the door. Garrett exhaled as quietly as he could and followed him.
Inside, the faint scent of warm wood and fire engulfed him, leaving a slight ache in Garretts frozen fingers that reminded him why he came here. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins, soaked his thoughts and pulsed warmly in the little corners of his mind. He had a hard time keeping his composure when he ventured openly into the light. He often responded only with flight; an instinct buried deep in his bones. Attanos gaze fell on the light switch on the wall. But he decided against switching it on. Garrett furrowed his brows.

Attano climbed the stairs to the first floor, pulled the mask off his face with a soft, clicking hiss and pulled back the hood, running his fingers through his hair. A strange black tattoo adorned the broad back of his hand, leaving Garrett puzzled once more. But he remained silent.

When they entered the spacious guest room, Attano again refrained from turning on the light. Garrett noticed it, but quickly dismissed it when the man waited by the door until he had stepped inside. He closed it behind him. Garrett immediately let his eyes dart about the room. His gaze eventually lingered on the open window, through which he could escape directly should circumstances require it and relief spread in his limbs. Attano indicated a chair with a slight nod, warm brown eyes fixed on him curiously, but Garrett declined the offer and went to the window. He crossed his arms. It was quiet for a few moments. Then the tall man slipped his coat off his shoulders and sat on the bed.

"Why are you here?"

Garrett was silent for a short second, then he sat down on the windowsill and looked outside, pulled the cloth from his nose, and let the fresh winter air flood his lungs. It calmed him a bit.

"It's too dangerous in my hand."

he eventually admitted. Attano said nothing, just looked at him indefinably from the side. Then he nodded slowly. Garrett snorted, a small smile crossing his face.

"I benefit from trade and... a healthy economy. Albeit more indirectly..."

"But you don't have it...with you?"

"And playing into your hands both me and the ring at once?" Garrett chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I don't want to insult your intelligence."

Attano chuckled and Garrett looked down at the street again.

"The coat was a challenge." He smiled and fiddled with one of the buckles at his waist just to keep his nervous fingers busy. "I didn't get it at first."

"I realized my mistake as soon as we caught the security guard and I saw his face. And… of course, when my ring was gone.”

"I admit, Ashtor came at the right time with his… misguided curiosity."

Attano snorted in amusement, stood up and stretched. Then he slowly walked towards the thief.

"That was dangerous."

"I know."

A slight smirk curled Garrett's lips as he tightened his buckle again, then silence fell between them. Attano had overcome their distance and cut off his escape with his broad frame. He was too close, but Garrett didn't retreat. Attano curiously held his gaze.

"I could arrest you and force you to tell me where it is..."

He whispered softly and Garrett's whole body suddenly called for flight again. But he stood his ground, ordered his thoughts, and shook the peacefulness of their conversation off his shoulders. He couldn't be inattentive now.

"Hmm...I'll give you another...quicker suggestion," he finally answered.

Seemingly interested, the tall man cocked his head to one side, leaning one of his hands on the window frame. Garrett looked into his eyes a few seconds more, then jumped off the windowsill and pushed past him determinedly. He went to the door and stepped out into the hallway. Attano raised his eyebrows in confusion, but didn't ask, just followed the thief quietly.

There was nobody in the house but them, or at least Garrett hoped there wasn't, he didn’t have time to check. But not even the servants lingered in the halls and chambers of the estate, so it seemed likely. He didn't question it, descended the stairs, and finally came to the door that led down to the basement. The room Garrett and Erin entered through last time. There were two doors, both fitted with security locks, protecting Lord Hoverwoods valuable possessions and his stock of pricy wines from thieves. The door in the masonry outside was locked, Garrett had verified that at least after hiding the ring. Only the interior door remained.
Garrett stopped in front of the door and looked around. It would make things a lot easier if he knew where the keys were. Attano seemed to guess what Garrett was looking for and frowned. But he said nothing. Eventually the thief found what he was looking for on the mantelpiece, put the key in the lock and opened the basement. Attano let out a dissatisfied breath.

"What's your suggestion?" he rasped dangerously against Garrett's neck, pushing him forward with his body and once again cutting off his escape. A shiver ran down Garrett's nape, down his spine to the small of his back, vibrating deep in his bones. He pushed the feeling aside.

"I'll tell you where the ring is hidden. But I don't want you to arrest me once you have the information."

"I give you my word." Just a whisper. A dangerous whisper that Garrett felt in his ear more than actually heard. Pushing back the tide that coursed in his veins, he turned, forbidding himself to retreat. He looked firmly into Attano's dark, fiery eyes.

"I don't trust your word. No word in the world can protect me from the legitimacy of the law, however honest it may be.”
He took a step towards the tall man, who surprisingly backed away a little. Garrett raised his hands, fluidly pulling two picks and a torsion wrench from the pockets on his wrists. Then he nodded his head in the direction of the open cellar door. Attano snorted aggressively, his eyes blazing. Garrett gave a defiant smirk and was surprised when the gesture was returned. Then the tall man walked right past him through the door, following Garrett's command, turned on the threshold, and stopped. The thief winked at him, then gave the door a little nudge and let it fall shut. He took a quick, deep breath as the tension and thrill drained from his limbs into the ground.

"Take a close look at the wall to the left of the basement door that leads out onto the street."

He heard a stunned, dull snort from behind the door. Then again, the dark voice that Garrett was sure would haunt his dreams.

"Right under my nose. You're going to pay for that, Master Thief."

Garrett snorted in amusement and took his small tools and slipped them under the door.

"Five minutes is enough."

Attano snorted aggressively.

"Make it three…"

Attano's words shot through Garrett's body like a jolt. He ducked into the shadows, turned, scurried out into the night, and ran.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he reached the city. He was sure that Attano had already picked the lock, found the ring and was now close on his heels. It was dangerous, it was perhaps the most dangerous mission in years, and yet he felt more alive than he had in a long time. Adrenaline shot through his gushing blood, making his lungs burn and his muscles tremble with the exertion that only a good hunt could provide. He quickly bolted up some crossbeams, used a rope to swing onto the slope of a roof and slid down over the tiles. Then he sprinted a few meters over to the nearest ridge and plunged over the chimney of a neighbouring building. Only a few meters more, then he would reach the old crates, well hidden behind bushes and thorns behind which a small hole in the walls - much too small for his big, Spanish pursuer - granted him access to the clocktower.

At full speed he jumped over the crates, ducked low behind one of them and looked around. There was still no sign of Attano, but in the distance he heard the faint clatter of tiles as someone ran over them in full speed, approaching his direction far too quickly. Garrett's nostrils flared, blood pounding in his ears. He ducked a little lower, then crawled behind the boxes and disappeared.

He was greeted only by darkness.
It was quiet in the tower. Damp earth caressed his burning feet, the soft creaking of the beams welcomed him home. His rattling breath still shattered the dusty silence. Garrett stifled his lungs, grabbed one of the ropes, and climbed up.
He quietly put his toes on the tell-tale wood, shifting his weight carefully to elicit as little noise as possible. Attano should be very close by now. The thief heard voices outside, a dog barking. His heart contracted at every sound, stoking the embers that burned in his legs. But he stayed focused. Soon another, well-known noise mingled with his nerves. The clockwork. Mechanically, the huge wooden gears slid into each other’s spaces, a steady rhythm, synchronizing slowly and quietly with his heartbeat. He was home. He was safe.

~*~

Garrett didn’t sleep. Again and again sudden rushes of energy swept him away, tingling fire that rolled over him when he thought of his escape. He had squatted restlessly in a dark corner of the clocktower until late at night, just in case Attano should have managed to locate him after all. Only when the first rays of the faint winter sun pierced the grey, giant clouds did he calm down.

He lay silently on his back in bed and looked at the ceiling. The dust shimmered silvery through the air and glittered faintly in the morning light that squinted into its hiding place through the milky glass of the watchface. He tapped his fingertips restlessly against one another in a steady rhythm and tried to remember the sequence. He had to sleep, had to stop succumbing to the euphoria that washed through him with every thought about the night. Snorting, he turned onto his side and tucked his head under his pillow.

In fact, the events had only made his life more complicated. Attano was much closer to a capture than Garrett should have allowed to happen. The man hadn't found his hiding place this night, but what about the next, what if today, while it was day, he let the whole city watch look for him? The man knew where he had finally lost the thief, where he had vanished from the face of the earth. He had led him, though not directly, to his hiding place. He was playing a dangerous game and the excitement, the thrill, that damn tension was the last thing he wanted to feel about it. Deeply in thought, he took a few breaths, consciously directing his thoughts away, thinking about his nocturnal raids and planning his next steps. Eventually he fell asleep.

Afternoon came and hit him with a sobering calmness. It rained. The drops kept pattering softly against the glass of the watchface and the old bricks of the tower. A light wind stroked the smooth leather in front of the window, lingering fresh and damp around his nose. It had gotten warmer, the snow had given way to rain, at least for today. Garrett peeled himself out of his blankets, stiff and emaciated from restless sleep, feeling last night's exertion tug in his legs and burn in the muscles of his arms. His feet throbbed tired and swollen from running. Exhausted, he ran a hand through his short hair and from the back of his hiding place he fished out some cheese and bread.

Apparently, nobody had found him yet and it seemed to be quiet outside the tower, calmer than he'd suspected after so narrowly escaping Attano yesterday. He chuckled to himself as he thought that the other man might have come home exhausted too and was now lying in bed with sore muscles. After all, they both had to be about the same age if he wasn't mistaken. He shook his head.

Even if he had been lucky today, it made sense to withdraw from the clocktower for the time being, as much as it hurt him to leave this place behind. He let out a soft breath and leaned back in his chair. The wood of the gears crunched quietly, reminding him that time was indeed still progressing, even if he would love to stop it. The world changed. Nothing was permanent. Not even his home.

He didn't know where to go. He didn't want to go to Erin, to the old mill. His brow furrowed in displeasure at the thought of having to tell her why he was giving up his current whereabouts. He didn't want to put her in danger. At least not in the long run, she could handle herself.

Still, he probably had no choice but to seek refuge at hers, even if only for a night or two, until he had thought of a more permanent solution. He exhaled sadly and finally got up to gather his favourite collectibles and some gear.

He would not be able to cover his traces in the tower. It was too obvious someone lived up here. Once Attano managed to track down this hiding place, it was no longer possible for him to return. Deep in thought, he looked at the valuable pictures and works of art on the wall that he had collected over years of work. He wouldn't take them with him, the rain might damage them. Smiling faintly, he took down one that he had particularly liked and looked at it. It was from the court of Montonessi, the insatiable appetite. A woman's body had been painted relaxed on a seat, but her neck did not adorn a pretty face, only the pensive head of an animal as brainless as the goat, judging the viewer. The colours shone fuzzy and blue in the evening's dimming light as he took a pen and turned the painting over.

Worms turn even vivid memories to dust. There's a worm in my brain. I think it's you.

He paused, looking at the inscription, then shook off the odd feeling it gave him and wrote in large, slanting letters:

There are still apples in the basket on the right next to the bed. If you hurry, they're still fresh.

Garrett

Chapter Text

He left the clocktower as soon as dusk had just changed into the night, much earlier than he usually started his work. But hurry was needed and caution. Attano could even be there already, lurking in the shadows. Garrett crouched deep behind the boxes at the foot of the tower, straining his eye and searching for the outlines of a figure in the dark corners and on the rooftops.

It remained quiet.

Quickly, with a pounding heart, he scurried out into the rain, slithering over the slippery tiles. His legs hurt, but he ignored his sore muscles, just scrambled through the night as fast as he could and left his tower behind.

He reached the old mill just as Erin was about to start her night. She has always been on the rooftops earlier than he was. Her black-rimmed eyes widened in surprise at first, then narrowed in worry when she saw his unmistakable luggage. Questioningly, she looked at him for a moment, blinking against the heavy rain. Then she turned around without saying a word and pressed an inconspicuous switch in the walls. Squinting, Garrett looked around. He hadn't been here since Erin's disappearance. The wet, muddy ground below his feet was lumpy and rough. Thick grasses, thistles and scrub twined over the dirt, hiding their footprints in the soil. The mill was run down, looked abandoned and deserted. But Garrett knew it was dry inside. When Erin moved in here many years ago, he himself had helped to close the many holes, cracks, and crevices.

It had been in summer, the soil dry and dusty and the grasses parched. The brittle walls were warm, storing the sunlight of the day and the air had been humid and heavy. Inside, the putrid pungent smell of pee and mouse droppings had crept into their noses and the flour dust from the worn-out millstones had mixed with their sweat and covered their skin in a sticky patina.

A deep, grinding sound tore him out of his memory. Erin crouched in front of him, the black cloth on her short hair stuck wet to the back of her head as she pushed away a heavy stone from the entrance to her hiding place. Her hands were rough and torn by the cold, the nails brittle. Quietly, she slipped back into the dry rooms of the mill and Garrett followed.

He carelessly dropped his belongings to the floor, then brushed the hood off his hair and took the mask from his nose. Briefly, he wiped his face with wet fingers. Meanwhile, Erin had opened a small, worm-bitten drawer, pulled out two glasses and a bottle. It was stuffy inside the mill. Garrett took the glass offered to him with a soft nod. He didn't know what was in it, just let the contents burn down his throat in one go and then put it on the floorboards in front of him on which he settled. Erin did the same.

"What happened?", she finally broke the silence without looking at him, instead staring at the empty glass in front of her, as if it contained her sanity now that the alcohol was gone.

He remained silent, just watching her as if it had not been him to whom the question was directed. The alcohol was rum, probably stolen from one of the taverns at the port. He had often told her not to steal from the shops that tolerated the presence of thieves, but she had never listened to him. She always did what she herself thought to be the right thing.

"What happened?"

Erin repeated the question, this time more vigorously. She looked at him out of her dark, cold eyes, that always had been able to penetrate his core. Garrett realized how surreal this question sounded out of her mouth, how strange it was when she talked to him like an angry mother with her child. He had been her teacher, sometimes perhaps something like a father. Only in his own eyes, of course. For Erin, he had always been more than that. Discouraged, he frowned and reached for his glass, studied it eagerly and thought about how best to describe the situation. Actually, he already knew what he wanted to say, but now that the time had actually come, he hesitated.

"I had stolen his ring."

He said putting the glass down again. Whether he had answered her question, he did not know. Erin then raised both eyebrows in surprise, sipped at her glass, that she had filled again, then proceeded to fill his once more as well.

"When?"

"I slid it off his finger at the department."

She choked out a rough, incredulous laugh, which ended in a suppressed cough as the rum in her throat bit into her tissue.

"You’ve done what?" she asked, hoarsely, but she didn't clear her throat again, as if to show that she didn't mind the spicy burn.

"It was the emperor's signet ring."

"Unbelievable...!", she whispered, stunned, took another sip. "What happened then?! Where is it now? Do you have it with you!?"

Laughing, she drank the last drop and looked curiously over to his luggage. Garrett resisted the urge to lean forward and stop her from reaching for his belongings, tried to sit as quietly as possible. Now it was time for the unpleasant part.

"I don't have it."

Erin froze. Her happy face slipped away, melted to the ground as she slowly let her piercing eyes creep back to where he was sitting.

"You... and where have you...?"

He was silent. The young woman turned her head abruptly, hissed and for a brief moment it went quiet. Outside, the rain gently pattered against the old, softened wood of the mill wheel. Garrett knew full well that she was already drawing her conclusions. Her question had been consciously chosen and his lack of answer, gave her all the information she needed. It made his skin crawl as he felt her anger build up. He remembered that he had done the right thing. It would have been completely impossible to keep, let alone sell it. A movement from the corner of his eye made him look back to Erin. She shook her head and grabbed the bottle again.

This time, she skipped the glass.

"Just so I understand correctly, you had the most powerful ring in the world in your hands and..."

Garrett suppressed the urge to tell her that it was hardly the most important or even the most powerful ring in the whole world and nodded instead when she did not continue. She drank another big sip from the bottle. This time she cleared her throat without shame, even scrunched her face.

"Who has it?"

Garrett, laughing bitterly, scoffed, and leaned back, crossed his arms, and looked firmly into her eyes. For a short time, he let the silence burn between them. Then he spoke quietly, defensively, and harshly at the same time. Told her, what she already knew, if she was honest with herself.

„Attano.”

With a loud crash, the glass shattered on the wall. Erin had jumped up with a hissing curse and had thrown it just past Garrett against the stone.

"Fucking shit!!! How could you let that happen?!?!"

Garrett had raised his hands protectively to cover his face when she vigorously grabbed the bottle and got up. He reached out in a flash and managed to stop her from throwing it against the wall just in time.

"Erin-", he forced her name out of pinched lips and wrestled with her for the bottle, finally twisting it out of her firm grip. "-you're too loud!"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Furious, she tore herself out of his grip and threw her scarf over her head, which had slipped down in the scuffle. Scoffing, she made fists, apparently in search for something to hold onto.

"Do you have any idea what we could have done with it?!" she hissed. "Never again would we have to starve in a pissed alley like dirty rats!!! We could have sent this fucking imperial bootlicker back to where he had come from!!! "

Her voice grew louder and louder, she sobbed, finally grabbing a stone, and throwing it at Garrett. It missed him just so, bounced against the wall with a dull clack.

„Erin- “

"Shut up!" she hissed. "Just shut up."

He tried to take another step towards her, but she just shook her head, tears of anger burning in her eyes. She blinked once, then she turned away, spat once on the floor, and disappeared through the hole through which they had entered only a few minutes ago, out into the night.

Garrett sighed. The noise sounded exhausted, was almost instantaneously swallowed by the flour dust and the low ceilings. Annoyed, he frowned before settling on the floor again, but this time he slid down the low wall of the fireplace and looked up. As always, Erin had no idea, she was driven by greed and was obsessed with revenge. The whole world would spin around her. Annoyed, he looked at the bottle in his hands, which had lost a little of its contents to its surroundings during their little fight. His fingers were sticky. Again, he felt a wave of anger boiling in his throat, then he lifted the bottle and forced the wrath down with the help of the sharp rum.

In general, she knew very little about the world. It didn't consist exclusively of this single city. Erin wasn't stupid, but she had never had any teaching. He sighed and drank another sip. He couldn’t blame her. As much as he hated this period of his life, training with the Keepers had provided him with something that few thieves and criminals could call their own: knowledge.

Thickly, the alcohol pulsed through his bloodstream, blurring the sharp edges of his thoughts. His gaze became sluggish. He laughed bitterly. Age had caught up with him. In the past a proper drink had turned him up rather than making him tired. He looked at the label with a smile, as if he could find a mention of sleeping pills.

He had done the right thing. Corvo Attano was a dangerous man for him personally, but he was not a bad person. The ring was in good hands, quite literally. And Garrett, who always had to say something bad about a law enforcement officer, kept quiet about him. He took another sip from the bottle and thought about how everything could have gotten so out of hand. All of a sudden, he felt very tired and very powerless.

The peace between the empire and the city’s government was brittle, the imperial ambassador personally came to catch a thief who had been making the city unsafe for decades as a sign of friendship. Garrett could not win this war. Feeling powerless, he ran his fingers through his still damp hair. It was only a matter of time before Attano would catch him. And even if he succeeded in escaping the man, the peace agreement could be in danger and even more difficult times would come for him.

He looked up at the ceiling again, snickering dryly at his own thoughts. The alcohol probably made him tend to megalomania. That he could have an impact on the peace of two nations was laughable. Again, he felt himself getting tired.

He must have drifted off after a while, didn't know how much time had passed. A gentle movement behind him slowly woke him up from his light sleep. In the meantime, he had slipped down and lay on the hard, dusty wooden floor of the mill. The gentle pressure from a soft, female body pressed to his back distracted him from his aching shoulder. Erin put her hands on his back behind him. The contact was uncomfortable and yet he did not keep his distance. He felt Erin's damp breath on his neck.

"How did it happen?" she finally whispered sadly, barely audibly. Garrett did not answer, waiting until the automatic sense of guilt had given way to his reason. Then he hummed softly as she put her arm around his waist and pushed herself closer to him, her cheek nestled between his shoulder blades. Garrett had no idea how to tell her that he himself had voluntarily brought the ring back and that this was the reason why he had to go into hiding with her. He frowned.

"Is that important?"

He felt her nod and sigh on his back.

"He took it from me," he lied.

Erin remained silent for a while, saying nothing. Then she sighed and began to draw small circles on his abdominal wall with her index finger. Garrett didn’t move.

For a while they lay next to each other on the floor without speaking a word. The gentle rain still pattered on the roof of the mill, causing the humidity in the room to rise and slowly but surely cooling it down. Nevertheless, Garrett was too tired of getting up and Erin, who had snuggled up very close to him, bothered him less than she should. He welcomed the extra body heat on his back that wanted to gently send him back to his dreams.

However, before he sank into a light sleep again, the woman moved behind him and slowly sat up. Confused, he turned on his back, looked at her from hooded lids, realized that she was smiling at him slightly and was about to slip down her clothes. Suddenly Garrett was wide awake, sat up and stumbled to his feet. Then he stretched himself emphatically tired and pretended not to have noticed. He rubbed his shoulder, wanted to show her that he hadn't gotten up because of her gesture, didn't want to break what picture she had painted out of them in her head. Or insult her. Tonight, the peace between them was too fragile.

And he was embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Erin had stopped and moved behind him.

"The floor is too uncomfortable to sleep on," she said quietly, a barely audible whisper. Garrett twisted his shoulder a few more times, relieved that she had understood his intention and accepted his cautious attempt to overplay the matter, then nodded.

Erin then stepped past him, avoiding looking into his eyes.

"I have a few blankets, you can sleep down here, behind the boxes on the left is all the straw from the summer.", her voice gained a light, almost strange tone when she talked about the summer, about how they had swept the straw on the floor into a corner and found straw in their hair for days afterwards. Garrett smiled too; the tension from his heart fell to his feet. He nodded towards her, searching his luggage for his pillow, which he had taken from the bell tower. Erin meanwhile didn’t turn around again, but she stopped in the door frame.

"I'm upstairs if you need me, Garrett..."

It was an invitation. A cautious invitation to continue with what she had tried to start before he got up so hastily. She still didn’t face him, as if she were afraid to read in his face what she already knew. Garrett nodded in response, then thought that she couldn't see him and just wanted to force a sound of approval out of his throat, when she completely turned away and left.

~*~

He and Erin barely spoke the next day. After waking up, they had each followed their own thoughts, let their minds wander.

Now at nightfall they had crawled out of the mill together. It was quiet, the rain had stopped, but the cold, dirty moisture still hung in the air, which crept unpleasantly sharp into Garrett's nose and stung his tissue.

Erin had a job on the outskirts of the city. Garrett, on the other hand, wanted to bring some distance between himself and the young woman and so he had refused to accompany her under the pretext of having to find a new hiding place. He had already gone through many possibilities in his head. The Eastwick Tower, abandoned, burned down and vacant since the architect hanged himself in it. Or perhaps in the secret chamber of the old skinner, who had been rotting dead in his rooms for ages. But none of these hiding places were safe from Attano. This man knew what criteria a hiding place had to meet in order to do justice to a thief and it would only be a matter of time before Attano would track him down again.

Quietly, the two thieves scurried through the dark alleys, past the guards, up to the rooftops and down again. Erin was faster than him, more agile. Garrett still felt the sore muscles in his thighs with every step.

He had also considered simply renting an apartment as he used to do. But by now his face was far too familiar and his bounty too high. And since he had the mechanical eye, it had become increasingly difficult to hide in a conventional way. Things always went well for a while, but if the city guard could track him down in a month, Attano could do it in a week.

When the two finally arrived in front of the open window of a net flicker, which Garrett usually used to get to the docks, he saw an opportunity to part ways with Erin. He clicked his tongue softly to get her attention, stopped and crouched down. Erin turned to him in surprise, narrowing her eyebrows questioningly. He nodded to the open window, briefly looked up to the guard on the opposite railing, who stared blindly in her direction. The young man's helmet hung low on his forehead, and he held his crossbow - as if he had taken its name too much to heart - like a particularly small guitar with his arms in front of his chest. Garrett suppressed a smile, then looked back at Erin, who had followed his gaze and now also grinned at him. She nodded in understanding, and he returned her gesture. Erin turned around and disappeared into the night.

Garrett relaxed a little. He was alone. Again, he looked up at the guard, who had turned around and was now talking to a colleague who had probably passed him on patrol.

"One of my teeth is coming loose."

Garrett snorted, then quickly slipped over the window frame, and disappeared in the direction of the docks. Quietly he sneaked over the boards and roof ridges above the heads of the city guard on the way to the siren's rest.

Soon he saw the crooked hut in the fog, which had stuck there like a obtrusive barnacle despite the inhospitable conditions of the tide. The run-down, draughty pub stood in the darkness, no guard approached the nest voluntarily, as long as there was no explicit reason for doing so.

Thinking, Garrett closed his eyes for a brief moment and listened. The lazy ocean waves were idly licking at the pillars of the old docks. Sodden, murky wood creaked tired in the light breeze and from a distance he could hear the heavy, languid steps of the city guard. A gentle, icy wind carried the salt of the sea to his face, causing a rusty pulley to creak above his head, barely audibly. The windchime of a poor sailor, sad and crippled, singing of forgotten dreams, of wealth, eternal love, and freedom.

He shook off the thought, then let himself glide down a rope and jumped down to the docks.

As soon as he pushed the door open, there was harsh laughter, clanging glasses and the lively shouting of the old waitress filling his ears. It was warm, reeking of damp sweat, tobacco, and alcohol. Garrett creased his nose under his mask and tried to breathe shallowly as he scanned the room for Basso. But he wasn't here. He was not surprised, until late spring the docks were much too cold for his sensitive fence.

Garrett sighed and, after some searching, finally turned to a long, scrawny guy, who played cards at one of the tables with a full-bearded, corpulent bear and scanned his – probably kinked – hand out of mischievous, almond-shaped eyes.

"I won," he whispered slimy, his voice an unpleasant, much too soft whisper, that trickled down Garretts spine like thick, viscous syrup. The big man next to him said nothing, then looked down at the thief and laughed roughly.

"Ha! Since when do they let children in here, huh? Fuck off, kiddo! Look at this, Hagen, crazy. The thief’s guild really has nothing to lose these days, has it? "

Garrett remained silent, did not pay attention to the big man, instead only looked at the skinny, emaciated figure in front of him, who had watched the scene out of curious, cunning eyes. Hagen, a former lieutenant, was amused when he saw him, put his cards upside down on the table and turned to him.

"Garrett, old friend, haven’t seen you for a long time! Ah, as I thought, the bird has fled the nest. How’s the family? "

The thief smiled. Many years ago, he had driven Hagen into prison on a job when the mechanists under Karras were still threatening the city with their cursed machines. He had expected that the man would be hostile towards him, that he would want revenge after he was released, but nothing of the sort had happened. Hagen had surrounded himself with the wrong people within the walls of Cragscleft, had started to do drugs that had soon taken possession of his mental and physical health. Now he was one of them, one who had long forgotten what it felt like to live an honorable life. After he was released from prison, he had begun with trading, with selling the drugs he himself consumed. Many people in this city who did drugs knew the benefits of intoxicants that simple booze could not provide. The poor as well as the rich, the outlaws as well as the law-abiding.

And they all knew Hagen.

"What do you know?"

"Hmmm- “, Hagen smiled amused and leaned back, tapping his sharp chin with a long, bony finger. "Depends… what do you want to know?"

Garrett then took one of the free chairs and sat down at the table, which was worn down by alcohol and cigarette ash.

"The bird has fled the nest…”, Garrett repeated slowly, and Hagen made a sound as if he remembered a time long gone.

"Yes, that's right," he whispered softly as the huge man next to Garrett stood up, pushed past him, and staggered to the counter. "The nest has been cleared."

Garrett's heart skipped a beat only to melt out of his chest seconds later at twice the speed. The blood pounded in his ears, causing the sounds around him to drown in his breath. Garrett gathered his composure, then he looked at Hagen again. The sticky, narrow gaze of the former lieutenant adhered to his face, following every little movement. Garrett withstood the inquiring pressure of his eyes. This seemed to amuse the scrawny man a great deal.

"But they couldn't find the bird...", his soggy voice became thoughtful, demanded an answer, an explanation. No information left the narrow lips of the drug dealer without being paid with another in return. The big seadog came back with three shots and a huge mug filled with dark, watery beer. Garrett nodded his thanks as he placed one of the glasses in front of him without averting his eyes from Hagen even once.

"I knew he would find me. Three nights ago, he had chased and almost caught me. I was barely able save my hide."

"Hmm-", Hagen hummed contentedly, then lifted his glass and indicated to the others to do the same.

"To the bird without a nest, cheers!"

Chapter Text

Garrett sat on a high roof in the old quarter, deep in thought, and looked down at the city. Attano had found his hiding place. In less than two days. Not even Hagen had apparently known that Garrett himself had not been caught. However, he also had to keep in mind that Hagen knew more than anyone else in this city. It was therefore quite possible that apart from himself, not a word had yet been passed on to any strangers. He had nevertheless asked the former lieutenant to send a messenger to Basso to inform the fence that Garrett was well and had escaped. He did not dare to go to Stonemarket himself.

He let his gaze wander towards the harbour. Soft candlelight flickered weakly out of distant windows, warm and shy. They were only small dots in slightly larger, black, crooked dots. Pale smoke seeped peacefully out of the chimneys. The nights were still cold. At the docks, the small and large boats and ships rocked like dirty nutshells in the strong, salty wind from the south, the first harbinger of spring. The air was clear and fresh, a night rarely seen in the city and yet it was pitch black.
The large, strange ship from the Empire was only recognizable as a dark blob, much larger than the other ships, but it also swayed in the mellow tide, just like them.

Like a bolt, Garrett shot up from his position.

The ship!

If there was one place where Attano wouldn't look for him, it was his own ship! A rush of cunning euphoria surged through his veins as he slid down from the roof as quickly as he could and made his way back to the docks, quickly and efficient.

It was perfect. The royal protector had been in the city long enough that the clever thieves must have already looked at the barge and it was no longer of interest to them. Of course, there was a risk that the people responsible for the ship would notice him, but they were usually tired and inattentive. If he’d do it right and leave as few traces as possible, his little idea could work out just fine.

Attentively, he peered around the corner, then scurried through a tunnel that passed under the stone bridge in front of the docks. He reached the black ship only a few meters south. Suspiciously, he circled the huge bug. The barge was huge, enthroned above him like a dark, scarred whale. The solid metal with the huge screws was marked by years of travel through the open, unforgiving sea. Garrett lifted his head as he imagined what it might be like to cross the ocean in such a giant ship. No, he definitely didn't want to experience that. He shuddered.

Crouching down, he crept on, finally found the huge rope, thick as his own upper arm, which held the monster at the harbour. A quick look back to the docks and he had made sure the guards were busy elsewhere. Carefully he began to climb.

The wooden floorboards of the deck were muddy, softened by rain and salt, swaying slightly with the gentle movement of the waves. Garrett felt his knees suffer a similar state when it came to his mind that he wasn’t on firm ground anymore. He repressed the thought and carried on. It was dead silent, not even the sounds of the docks reached so far up that they could creep into his ears. The white colour of the bridge was rusty where the paint peeled off due to heavy weather and the aggressive salt of the sea that had gnawed at the bare iron. The windows were pitch black, looking down on him like hollow eyes in the dark, seemed to judge the little jumps of his heart, when a large wave tilted the ship a little too far to the left. There was no one here. It was abandoned.

Behind the bridge, a huge hatch came to his attention, suggesting a cargo hold deep in the belly of the eerie sea monster.

'Hmm... what do we have here?'

Attano had hardly come to this city to deliver goods, that could be his winning ticket. With darting eyes, he looked around, discovered a closed flap in the ground, that led down into the ship.
Garrett pulled out his picks with clammy fingers, was reminded that he was still missing two of them when he activated the small mechanisms on his wrist pockets.

He slowly opened the metal flap. The hinges squeaked softly, complained, when Garrett opened the latch and a well-worn, spindly ladder came into his view. Garrett carefully pushed one foot onto one of the lower rungs, even feeling through the suede of his soles how the twisted iron, no thicker than a pencil, pressed relentlessly and cold in the ball of his foot. Slowly, clinging to the rusty steps, he carerully climbed down the wobbling ladder into the belly of the barge.

It was completely dark in the cargo hold. It smelled of dust, sodden wood and machine oil. With a beating heart, he let the primal surge through his eye, studied the outlines of his environment. The floor was made of crimson, rusty iron, the room itself largely empty, except for a few cargo boxes and some straw on the right. An uncomfortable cold crept into his bones.

He carried on, listened to the threatening, dull licking of the waves on the coat of the ship. It was a strange feeling, like as if he was in the stomach of a dangerous, sleeping animal that could wake anytime. Down here he felt even more powerful the movements of the sea, the cold of the deep, lurking water. He tried to ignore it, suppressing his queasy feeling. The boxes little further back in the cargo hold were old but dry, anchored to the ground with huge chains. Behind them was a space in between, which could completely hide him from prying eyes should someone enter unsuspectedly.
He carefully searched the entire room for traces of human presence. The edges and corners of the boxes shimmered bluish. But no one had been here for a long time.

Satisfied, he straightened up. This place was not ideal, he hated ships, the wobbly rocking of the waves, but it was a brilliant hiding place. For today it was time to disappear again.

Still crouched down, he crept back to the ladder, not wanting to spend a second longer on the barge.

He would stay with Erin in the mill for another day, discuss his little discovery with her and tell her what he had learned from Hagen. The fact that Attano had already found his hiding place only made it clear once more how dangerous the man was for him. He didn't want to drag Erin into this.

The shadows of the night still clung to the city when he swished over the rooftops, but it wouldn't be long before morning. On a roof in south end, almost just before the mill, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and listened. A quiet rattle, as if someone slid down brittle tiles, immediately made him dive deeper behind a chimney, high on alert. With a pounding heart, he peered into the darkness on the rooftops. A figure, much larger and much wider than Erin and yet barely visible, crept like a giant cat to the edge of a roof some distance away. A short, blue glow of the right hand and suddenly he was gone. Astonished, Garrett raised his eyebrows, searched, then finally saw the figure disappear just behind an old chimney in the direction of the old quarters.

Garrett's heartbeat pulsed in his neck. He did not need to delude himself who this figure had been. But he had not been aware that Attano also had a power that was so similar to that in his eye. That wasn’t good at all... Could he teleport?
With a dry throat and a slight buzz in his skull, he moved his stiff fingers on the stone of the chimney, feeling the rough corners and edges press into the tips. Finally, after waiting in absolute silence for several minutes, he eventually hushed the few meters back to the mill.

Erin was already there. Relief sparkled in her eyes when he quietly slipped through the hole in the walls. For a moment she seemed as if she wanted to jump up to greet him, but she didn't. He smiled at her and she reciprocated. Then she pulled her scarf off her head.

"I can see, you've been successful...?" she asked curiously, leaning against the fireplace and looking at him with a smirk and glinting eyes. Garrett huffed out a laugh. She knew him well, knew how to interpret his facial expressions and gestures.

"I did. But I warn you, you won't like it any more than you liked the idea with the guard."

Now she definitely raised an eyebrow with interest. But before Garrett left, he pointed to the golden bracelet around her thin wrist.

"You have been successful too."

She giggled and twisted her arm to show off the jewelry. Erin loved jewelry, wore it often when she came back from one of her raids. Expensive dresses, make-up and jewels were a delight to her and she enjoyed wearing the most exquisite pieces in the safety of her hiding place, imagining what it would be like to be a wealthy, young lady of nobility and to present herself at exuberant festivities.

"You noticed," she whispered almost in love as she brushed the golden hoop off her arm. Then she looked at it with sparkling eyes. "You haven't made as much loot as I have in a long time, Garrett, you let up!"

He laughed softly and then sat down on the floor.

"It's not so easy, with this menace Corvo Attano on your heels." His eyes became distant when he thought of his brief encounter with the man a few minutes ago. He had already come way too close to this place, to the mill. There weren't many spots in this city that could provide shelter for a thief. And Attano would search them gradually. The girl wasn't safe here and neither was he.

Erin saw the change in his expression, looked at him suspiciously from the side.

"I saw him, earlier," Garrett explained calmly, shaking his head when her unspoken question reached him as to whether it had been the same the other way around. She was relieved.

"He's looking for me. He has already found my hiding place in the clocktower."

Erin hissed sharply. Then she got up, came up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. Garrett sighed and covered it with his own, trying to calm her as she squatted next to him.

"I asked Hagen for information in the siren's rest and sent a messenger to Basso. Supposedly no word got out yet that I have escaped..."

Erin nodded, then pulled her hand back and sat down in front of him.

"It probably makes more sense to avoid Stonemarket for the time being," she said thoughtfully, and Garrett nodded, glad that she was aware of the seriousness of the situation and did not want to prove herself.

"Attano is a good lapdog. Too good. He will find me again and again. Unless-", a wicked smile crept onto his narrow lips. "Unless I hide right in front of his nose."

Confused, the young woman squinted her eyes when she couldn't decipher with his words. Garrett grinned.

"His ship."

It was just a whisper but Erin had heard it. For a brief moment she looked at him stunned, then a laugh stumbled out of her mouth.

"That's reckless," she said, shaking her head smiling, and ran her fingers through her short hair. Garrett grinned, enjoyed the feeling of triumph that flooded his chest and casually leaned back a bit, even if it meant holding his entire weight with his still aching thighs.

"I need some traps," he said, and Erin got serious again. The young woman had always had great skill with ladder systems and trap construction. Their own mill was packed with electroshocking traps and other dangerous stuff designed to keep intruders away from their hiding place, or at least let her escape in time and warn her of danger. "It has to be well hidden and should only warn me if someone gets too close to my shelter."

Erin just nodded, sat cross-legged and leaned forward concentrated. Garrett copied her posture, took his bow off his back and let his shoulders pop.

"I took a closer look at the cargo hold of the ship. As it stands, it is designed as a freighter, but has not been used to transport goods for quite a while... There are some boxes in the back that are chained secure. Behind it is a small crevice, just big enough to store some things and set up a place to sleep. As I have seen, however, there is only one entrance, a hatch on deck- "

He heard Erin clicking her tongue dissatisfied. Garrett knew it was a risk. Should he be seen during the day and he was forced to flee, then he had to escape completely in the open and unprotected from the shadows. Had to flee over the ship's deck, exposing himself to the eyes of all who entered the ship. It was the only aspect that sat heavy in his stomach, apart from the fact that it was a ship on the water of course.

"Nobody has been there for a long time," he reassured her, tapping his right temple. He reluctantly reminded Erin of the primal, which was enclosed in his mechanical eye. Many memories, terrible memories flooded her soul when she thought of it. Now, at that moment, she remained calm. He was grateful for that.

"Nevertheless, I would like to be warned if someone opens the hatch."

Erin shook her head.

"No, that's not a good idea.", she leaned a bit further, then looked at him from hauntingly deep brown eyes. "It only increases the chance that someone will come looking for you."

Garrett cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. Erin smiled sympathetically.

"You have a light sleep, Garrett. You will notice immediately when someone approaches anyways. Are the hinges squeaking?"

He nodded.

"Well, maybe I can make them squeak a little harder. So that you wake up in any case. If I were you, I would also prepare for possible flight every morning."

He squinted confused and looked at her questioningly. The young woman only rolled her eyes.

"Think about it, if he catches you in your sleep, you have to leave as soon as possible, you don't have forever to pack for a holiday in Karnaca.", she winked at him as he hummed dissatisfied but acknowledging her point.

"In addition to that, the guards recognize you immediately when you are wearing your normal equipment-", suddenly she drew a loud breath, interrupted herself, then stretched her slender hands forward, as she only did when a particularly good idea flooded her clever brain.

"The uniform!", she breathed out and Garrett immediately leaned towards her, infected by her euphoric gestures and the idea itself.

"Basso may still have it," he whispered and nodded deep in thought.

"Tomorrow I'll go visit him."

"No."

Confused, she looked back at him, then down her arm, which Garrett had grasped in support of his words. He cleared his throat and withdrew.

"Don't go to Stonemarket. It is still too dangerous. At first glance, we look similar."

Discouraged, she scrunched her pointy nose, but then nodded. Garrett snorted softly.

"I asked Hagen today to send a messenger to Basso. Maybe he will be in the siren's rest tomorrow. And if not-"

"-if not, then we will find another solution. You're right, it's unwise to go ourselves."

Garrett smiled, then nodded in agreement. He knew how much strength it took out of her to put herself back, to assume that it was better to avoid this risk, to trust him. Reassuring but still proud, he raised his fingers.

"I don't doubt your prowess, Erin," he said quietly, if emphatically. "I know Attano's."

She smiled, turned her new bracelet in her fingers again and nodded. "I know."

Garrett sighed.

"I myself just hardly managed to escape his grasp, several times."

"I'm not you. But I'm not going to take the risk. I can't judge him."

He exhaled deeply.

"Me neither."

Garrett paused and looked down into his lap. The black leather stretched over his shins like a second skin. Deep in thought, he remembered their encounter just days ago, the conversation he had had with Attano, how easily and naturally the words had fallen from his lips. An unpleasant turn in his stomach reminded him to not ignore the danger of the royal protector, even if the memory filled him more so with thrill than with respect. Discouraged, he admitted to himself that he might even was a little curious.

"I should sleep," he finally said, looking down on the floor in front of him. He almost told Erin about his conversation with Attano. But Garrett knew that wasn't a good idea. The woman in front of him suspiciously raised an eyebrow, but left it at that. She nodded, got up and, after some hesitation, left the room. Garrett remained seated for a few moments.

Attano had not had him arrested when he came for the ring. He had decided against torturing him and had instead accepted his suggestion at his terms, risking Garrett escaping him.

The thief exhaled loudly and hoisted himself on his feet to go to his camp of blankets.

He tried to remind himself that this did not mean that Attano wanted to renounce torture. He had to have the ring back as soon as possible, otherwise he would have gotten serious problems. He would never have relied on torture to extract the hiding place quickly.
The thief lay down thoughtfully on the blankets, but it was difficult for him to find sleep.

Sharp and relentless, the sea wind bit into the thin skin under his eyes, trying with all its might to push him down from the ship, on which Erin and he had just taken the last precautions. With his eyes squinted, the thief crouched in front of the hatch and looked at the hinges.

„Garrett!“

Garrett raised his head restlessly as the woman hissed his name against the wind. He pressed his lips together firmly, then dipped towards her and squatted down.

"I can make the hinges louder," she whispered and straightened the scarf on her head, which the wind had tried to rip from her hair. "But I don't know if that's such a good idea. You would hear others when they enter the room, but others would also hear you when you leave it."

Garrett pressed his lips even tighter together. They had become chapped over the last few days and the frequent change of weather was stinging in the thin scars on his cheek. He nodded, felt the salt of the sea stick to his eyelashes and creep into the fine wrinkles in his face.
"Then leave it."

The cargo hold was damp and dark. The high humidity outside the ship's metal cladding surged into his bones, sticking to his skin like a cold wet cloth. He scrunched his nose. Fortunately, with a swimming ship, you could at least rely on the fact that it was leak-proof. In addition, no mold was found, which suggested that the moisture only had to emanate from the blankets that had come in the rain. Despite everything, it was very unpleasant.

When he climbed the ladder again, Erin had disappeared already. He sighed, closed his eyes for a moment and let his head roll back. Cold and piercing, the fine, misty rain sprayed on his face, grounding him. The strong wind raised and lowered the ship in large waves, causing the seams of the fist-thick metal cladding to protest quietly. Not long, then Garrett's stomach decided to do the same. The thief sighed, then shook the rain out of his hair, pulled the hood and mask deep into his face and made his way to the siren's rest.

Worried, he told himself that his hiding place was safe. After all, even today, while searching, he had only found his own traces from last night. He hadn't seen anything on deck either. But the rain had been strong the last few days and it was difficult to see if anyone had been there during the day. He had not mentioned any of those worries to Erin. But he at least had to advise her to reconsider her current accommodation. It was only a matter of time before Attano would come across Erin instead in search of him.

He found the young woman in the siren's rest, a greasy bottle of watery beer in her hand and immersed in a lively conversation with a strong, stupid-looking man with greasy hair and sweaty neck.

Basso.

As he got closer, he was surprised to discover that Hagen had apparently also joined them. With cunning eyes, the slimy, haggard man followed the conversation, literally sticking to the lips of the old fence. Garrett straightened the cloth in front of his nose in a desperate attempt to keep the stench of the pub away from his lungs when Erin saw him and nodded in greeting. Basso immediately paused mid sentence, turned around and then opened his arms in an open gesture.

"Garrett, you old dogshit!" he crowed enthusiastically and the thief nodded briefly to him. Meanwhile, Erin hinted that Hagen should slide a little further so that Garrett could find room next to her.

"I really thought they’ve caught you."

A large, thick hand patted his shoulder appreciatively and squeezed lightly, then struck him hard on the back twice, while Garrett slipped onto the bench next to Erin.

"Fortunately, I always have a little trick up my sleeve."

Basso nodded, squeezed himself to the table again opposite of Garrett and gulped a large sip of beer.

"I didn't even know that the old bastard had found your tower. The messenger from Hagen reached me before I even got wind of the thing!"

Hagen lowered his head with a grin as Basso waved his hand in his direction appreciatively. Garrett looked at the scrawny guy, his eyes were deep red and his sunken, limp cheeks stretched palely over the sharp bones of his face. He tried to remember what Hagen had looked like when he had doomed him to the Cragscleft, but it was a long time ago and a clear picture did not want to form in his head.

"How did you do it?"

Torn from his thoughts by Basso's crowing voice, Garrett turned away and looked into the curious face of his fence. Erin and Hagen also shifted their attention to him and looked at him expectantly. Garrett looked down at the old table, tried to widen a scratch in the wood with his right thumbnail.

"That's not important."

Basso raised his eyebrows in disbelief and clicked his tongue. When Garrett withstood his gaze and said nothing more, he shook his head and shrugged.

"All right, Garrett. Keep your secrets for all I care. But can you at least tell me what you’ll do next?"

The others around the table turned away in silence. Erin drank from her watery beer, Garrett looked silently down at the table. Basso snorted and shook his head again, but this time he remained silent as well.

"We should sit it out...", Hagen suddenly whispered from the corner, following the contour of his bottle, which he apparently had not even touched, with a long, bony finger.

Basso ran a hand through his patchy hair and rolled his eyes. "And wait until Attano has arrested all my thieves, love, peace and harmony... sure, sounds reasonable... "
Hagen ignored him, seemed to continue to follow the course of his brittle fingernail on the brown neck of the bottle.

"There are rumours..."

He whispered softly, hissing, then looked over to Garrett who followed his words with a serious look in his eyes. "The general is dissatisfied-"

"Dissatisfied," Basso said scoffingly, but again Hagen seemed to completely ignore the fence at this point. Garrett's gaze faltered, but he did not avert his eyes, which apparently amused Hagen a great deal. "Many thieves and criminals have been arrested by the royal protector. Many of them paid their taxes just fine..."

Garrett's eyes widened a little when he realized what the drug dealer was getting at. Hagen smiled mischievously when he saw realization flashing in the eyes of the thief. "Clever lad," he quarked quietly without lifting his sticky glance from Garrett's face. Even Basso had become quiet in the meantime and involuntarily clung to the lips of the scrawny man. Hagen apparently enjoyed the undivided attention and took a longer break to stretch out his brief moment of fame.

"It's only a matter of time before the general wants to get rid of him."

Chapter Text

The ship was unfamiliar, the air stuffy and cold. Garrett missed the clocktower, the security, which came with its high location. He had lived there for a long time, years, and now he didn’t know if he could ever go back. This night he woke up many times. Muffled steps on deck, a strong wave that tipped the ship to the side…everything had torn him from his light slumber.

The next day it was hard for him to peel himself out of the warm blankets he had wrapped himself in tightly during the night. He felt like staying in. His bones ached and his back hurt. But it couldn’t be helped. It was time for him to fill his pockets again. He had been too occupied with other things for too long.

Not even a month ago an old acquaintance of him had finally kicked the bucket. After long years of suffering Lord Bafford had been relieved from his earthly burdens. Now, after his death, Garrett strived to relieve his relatives from theirs. After he had shuffled off his mortal coil, Bafford made sure to leave behind a good fortune and Garrett was determined to get lucky. In a financial way of course. Because there hadn’t been anything special worth stealing in the villa before that made it worth the risk, Garrett hadn’t visited in a long time. Now however one of the man‘s close relatives came by to check on the building. And she had a collier that was definitely worth visiting now.

Basso had mentioned a sapphire necklace, that was still in the possession of said relative, Lady Herville. Still, as Garrett planned to rid her neck of it soon enough. If she held her nose up as high as everyone said, she wouldn’t even notice.

Quietly he opened the latch that lead to the ships deck; for the first time after moving in, and peered out into the dark, foggy night.

It was silent. Grey and dry were the planks of the worn out deck and the air was fresh and salty, made him realise how stuffy it had actually been inside the belly of the ship. He decided to leave the latch open, just a crack, and slid outside.

Apparently, lady Herville was very unwilling to put the collier down. Only at night there was a slim chance that she at least didn’t wear it around her neck. Garrett was indeed curious, how it looked. Gossip said the flawless sapphires glinted in a marvellous blue, which accentuated the lady’s dresses remarkably. Garrett smirked in anticipation.

The villa was near Stonemarket, unfortunately. Garrett needed to be careful. The chance of meeting Attano at a place like this was too probable for his tastes. He thought of his old hideout in Stonemarket, his clocktower, and got a bit wistful for a second. He shook off the image. There was no time for this now. Carefully he slipped past a rusty iron gate and wriggled up a rope to continue his way on the roofs.

Since his last visit about 20 years ago there had been a lot of changes to the residence. Basso had advised Garrett to be careful and that he shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. Apparently, the drainage systems of the south quarters had been renovated since the gloom because of the probability of epidemic outbreaks. There was a high chance that the old wellhouse had been exposed to some changes too. Garrett would be better off observing the whole situation first before diving in head first like he had done so in the past. He smirked at the image of his younger self going for an energetic plunge in his adolescent devilment. He adjusted the fabric of his mask.

Except for a few smaller raids he hadn’t been here for a long time. Here, where the river in the northeast defines the border of the quarter, he rarely came by. The wellhouse had indeed been exposed to some changes, in this case it was the air. The house had been removed entirely and the lonely well stood in the middle of the plaza, quiet and lurking. The faint, cold light of a lantern flickered softly and Garrett shuddered.

Nothing moved, it was deadsilent. There were no Watchmen in this area. The first mosquitos flirred in the air like skittish particles of dust. With no sound coming from their tiny little wings, they swirled and danced around the cold, white light of the lanterns that flickered ever so softly once every few seconds. An endless circle of purpose and grief. Garrett’s heart clenched, pumped. Alerted, his gaze twitched over the Plaza, a strange feeling fluttering in his throat. He swallowed quietly, then he shoved the emotion away.

Before he had the chance to fully step out of the shadows he realised his mistake. With a huge jump he bolted for the well, slipped out of the big hands just so, which tried to seize him. Stumbling and catching his fall on the other side of the well he turned around, the old fountain now between him and the silent predator, who had materialized behind him like a warrior, like a ghost.

Attanos skeleton mask had a cold, silver glint, reflecting the pale, flickering light of the lantern. Garrett crouched down, his muscles ached. His pounding heart pumped the blood into his head and ears, mixed it with the adrenaline in his chest. He breathed out, willed his nerves to calm down.

An amused huff came from underneath the mask, strangely distorted. Attanos shoulders sank down a notch and he shifted his weight. Then he gripped the skullface with his right hand and with a silent hiss pulled it off his skin.

„Hello, Master thief.“

His dark brown eyes seemed almost black at night. They made Garrett think of the hole in the well and he blinked. There was curiosity in the man’s eyes, a glint that was not supposed to be there at all. Garrett wondered if he seemed curious too and tried to appear as incurious as he could manage.

With a smirk he pulled down his own mask, crouched even deeper behind the stones of the well and drew one of his arrows.

„Hm…did you come to bring me my tools? How kind…“

Attano smiled back at him. But Garrett was prepared for the soft shine of the tattoo on Attanos hand and circled the well just in time before Attano materialized out of thin air just where he had stood mere seconds ago. But if the man was surprised that Garrett managed to evade his grip, he didn’t show it.

„Usefull.“ Garrett stated drily, observing how Attano looked down on his hand where the strange sign slowly faded back to black. He tried to quell the faint dizziness that came from his rapid movement and the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Attano looked up, nodded, his curiosity now big black puddles of ink in his eyes. And he gave in.

„Your eye…“

He whispered, his accent coming through just a tiny bit. Garrett withstood the urge to touch his temple. Then he heard, felt the quiet hum of the primal that flooded Attanos veins almost before he made a second attempt at catching him. He circled the well once again, just before Attano appeared on the other side. The man huffed out a quiet laugh and Garrett shifted his weight to one leg, twiddling the arrow in his hand. He lifted his eyebrows which drew another chuckle from the royal protector.

„You’re more slippery than a sperm whale.“

Garrett who didn’t know a lot about the sea, let alone sperm whales, smirked knowingly, pretending to know how slippery a sperm whale was supposed to be. With a certain wariness he realised that some of the tension in his limbs waned. Attano slid his hand through his hair.

„But I will catch you, eventually.“

Now it was Garrett who chuckled softly.

„You’re power isn’t unlimited.“

He whispered, sly and full of himself, nodding in the direction of the tattoo on Attanos hand. The man followed his eyes.

„True. But the power of the Outsider is just a useful addition to my own...“

„Outsider?“

Suddenly everything happened too fast. Instead of answering, Attano quickly jumped straight over the well and grabbed his hood. And Garrett wasn’t prepared for this change in tactics. But he reacted quickly, avoided the attack from in front of him by stepping aside and trying to get over the well in the same manner.

They met in the middle, collided. Attano lost balance and with a surprised huff, he grabbed Garrett’s quiver and dropped down.

Garrett tried to grip the edge of the well, but it was no use. He slipped, his fingers not even close to strong enough to hold both of their weight. In a last, desperate attempt to save his skin, he threw the claw at the beam that may once have held a bucket. The old, soggy wood splintered with a crack. But when he tried to scramble for the rope, there was a muffled snap, followed by a pained hiss and he was thrown around. Sharply, the hard stone walls shaved over his back, razing the leather until it ground flesh. Then suddenly the small hole opened up and the hole made room for a huge cave. They fell down and with a loud, echoing splash they hit the water flat.

Garrett frantically tried to breathe, icy cold water shooting down his lungs. They heaved, fought against the pressure with all their might. He was scrambling, grabbing handfuls of water and blackness without even knowing where the surface was.

Suddenly there was firm pressure around his chest and a strong pull. It got lighter, the water got softer. Wheezing and coughing he broke through the surface, his diaphragm spasmed. The short strands of his hair stuck to his forehead and his hood hung from his shoulders like a sad rag.

Attanos breath was shallow and raspy. He caughed and shook his head to get his hair out of his face. Soft droplets of cold water bit into Garrett’s neck and he shuddered. Attano was still holding him against his chest, which finally helped Garrett overcome his stupor. He wriggled and thrashed until – to his surprise – Attano let him out of his clutch without any hesitation.

For a few seconds their heavy breathing was the only sound filling the cave, a strange, distorted echo looming over them. Garrett wheezed, tried to concentrate and calm his nerves. His eye pulsed softly. They had fallen a good distance, the water level had changed. In the 20 years he hasn’t been down here, it had dropped by half. At least. The rope that was attached to the claw was too high up, got lost in the well. He blinked a few times to get the water out of his eyes, still trying not to choke.

Going back up the well wasn’t an option, there was only the way through the cave. For a second he thought that maybe Attano was able to reach the rope with teleportation. But that wouldn’t be useful for him anyways. Annoyed he pursed his lips. He needed to get some distance between himself and the royal protector. He breathed in and dived down.

Silence and darkness greeted him like an old friend. When he concentrated, let the primal flood his skull he could at least see enough. The water was maybe four metres deep, if not less. It wouldn’t get any more shallow, that much he knew. The ledge leading into the bafford masion was too high up as well. He would have to find a completely different way out of this mess.

He broke through the surface again, saw that Attano had checked out the underwater situation as well, his head emerging from the water only seconds after. Garrett furrowed his brows in discomfort. But when the man looked over to him Garrett thought he saw uncertainty flashing in the mans eyes for the first time. He shoved away the image, it was dark enough to not see his own hand in a proper way, let alone any uncertainty probably flashing in somebodys eyes.

Garrett held his gaze for a second, then he turned around and started to swim deeper into the cave. Eventually Attano followed. To Garrett’s surprise he was quite slow. But he didn’t plan to wait for him anyways.

The deeper he swam into the cave, the darker and colder it got. Slowly, Garrett’s heartbeat calmed down. He looked around, blinked, tried to concentrate. The walls where high, much higher than he remembered. It smelled like fresh moss, moist earth and stone. Water was dripping somewhere far away, in the distance. The echo hummed through the cave, made him shiver.

Slowly he swam further, just able to keep his head above water, like an old sewer rat. Attano was far behind him now. Garrett couldn’t see him anymore, could just faintly hear his movements in the water, that the echo carried to his ears.

He frowned. It surprised him that the man couldn’t keep up with him. He stopped for a second, when he remembered that Attano hit the wall of the well as he fell down, causing them both to turn. He must be injured. Garrett looked briefly over his shoulder but there was only blackness. Well, there was nothing he could do now anyways.

A hole in the wall, just above the water level caught his attention and made him stop. He frowned even deeper. He knew that tunnel, passed through it that one time he had been here to steal Lord Baffords cepter. But back then it had been at least five meters under the surface. If that tunnel was now above the water it meant that there was no chance he’d ever reach the entrance to the villa. He swam towards it, an uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest, gripped the edge and heaved himself up.

He hole was almost a completely round circle, something, he didn’t notice the first time he was down here. He knew that this was most certainly not a natural occurance. Interested he let his slender fingers slip over the wet stone walls, felt for any hints of origin, human or animal. But it was most likely that burricks have dug this hole long ago. Garrett furrowed his brows. It has been a long time since he saw one of the huge lizard-kin creatures. And he hasn’t really been looking forward to seeing one ever again.

He was cold. His wet clothes and hair just causing him to freeze down to the bones. But he was glad not having to swim for a bit, resting his limbs. It gave him time. Time to think and plan, he needed to get out of this mess pronto. But he shouldn’t spend too much time down here in the tunnel or he’d catch a cold.

Carefully he sneaked forwards, into the tunnel, quiet, concentrating. There was definitely no need for any unwanted attention if something had decided to take residency in the abandoned tunnel. If he remembered correctly there had also been some spiders in here back in the days and if they were still there they surely haven’t been working on their hospitality.

A stumbling, exhausted splash, followed by a silent hiss tore him out of his thoughts. Crouched down he turned around and discovered the silhouette of Attanos body just at the entrance of the tunnel.

„You’re too fast for me, master thief.“

Garrett breathed out slowly but loudly, didn’t want to start a conversation. Then he turned around towards the tunnel, a tiny smile picking at the corners of his mouth. Until now it didn’t look like any human had dug this hole, even though there were many ruins in the south quarter. Forgotten civilisations, buried underneath the city that was built upon their ashes. In the end he hummed quietly, answered, lost in his thoughts.

„I’m not injured.“

Attano chuckled bitterly, heaved himself up.

„I can change that.“

The proposition made Garrett laugh. There was no bite in Attano’s voice. He smiled and proceeded to inspect the walls even though he was sure he wouldn’t find anything. Exhausted, Attano shoved his long hair out of his face and looked at his foot, examined it thoroughly. Secretly, Garrett had peeked at it out from the shadows, he didn’t think there were any broken bones. But he knew that a sprained ankle could hurt worse than the bite of a Burrick. He huffed out an amused laugh, then he went back to the entrance himself, looked at his fingers.

„This tunnel is a dead end.“ He nodded behind him, not looking up from his hands. It was true. Even though the hole wasn’t man-made, he knew from the past that there wasn’t any way out in that direction. „And there might be some pals that wouldn’t say no to a hearty meal of royal protector for dinner.“ Garrett grinned, proud of his little joke. He was sure that even if Attano was injured, a few spiders weren’t a threat for him. He was even sure that the man could kill double the amount of spiders with both of his feet broken than he himself could.

Attano nodded, slowly, suspicious, propped himself up on a stone and got up himself without using his foot too much. In seconds he stood proud and tall. Garrett suppressed his nervousness, as he saw that Attano could barely stand upright where he would have to lift his arms to reach the ceiling. Annoyed he pushed the thought to the side and averted his eyes. The back of the cave was far away, swallowed by darkness. He should swim further, at the end of the cave there should be some drainage systems, old metal ones. Maybe he could use his tools to open the screws and escape through there.

„What is your plan?“

Attano’s deep voice caught him off guard, but Garrett pretended not to be startled. He didn’t answer, just looked at the man with a lifted brow. A quiet breeze, probably from the well whispered over his wet skin, made him shiver. He wouldn’t have to swim a lot further, he told himself. But the drainage was probably also over or underneath waterlevel. He would have to save his strength. If he wasn’t able to dive fast enough, strong enough, he would have too much trouble getting out the screws. Annoyed he balled his hands to fists, then he jumped back into the water.

Icy cold water embraced him, compressed the air in his lungs. In a reflex he scrunged his face into a tight grimace, as Attano broke through the surface right next to him. Then he concentrated on the way that laid ahead of him. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply. He was used to this. His work always consisted of effort and stamina. But water, water was never his great strength. He hated it, didn’t like being on it, in it, under it or submerged in it. And his swimming showed it. Not that he was especially bad at it, but he definitely wasn’t good at it either. It was like almost everything he did, except for stealing; he got the job done, the how was secondary. He had to think of the sewer rat again and deeply related.

This time he refrained from the urge to bring Attano as far behind as possible. Down here he wasn’t really a thread, although the powerful swimming in his condition actually made Garrett a tiny bit self-conscious. He pushed away the feeling, it wasn’t necessary. Attano had probably realised by now that Garrett wasn’t down here for the first time and therefore decided to keep him company. The thief wasn’t mad because of it, it was understandable. He probably would’ve done the same if he was in his stead.

Far away he could see the end of the cave now, and when he really concentrated he also saw the drainage gratings. Unfortunately they were way above the surface, as he had feared. Annoyed he pursed his lips, but he didn’t say anything.

Attano was a few meters behind him but he was faster than before. Somehow he must’ve found a way to move quicker, although he was injured. Garrett breathed in and dove down again, at the same time as he realised Attano wanted to say something.

Here, in the last corner of the cave, it was pitch black underwater. Deeply uncomfortable he felt along the walls, his heart pounding underneath is ribs. The stone was slimy, his slender Fingers skipping shily over the slippery rock. Even when he concentrated he could barely recognise anything, had to rely on his other senses. Every now and again his probing hands found some slippery creatures, undefinable and wriggly. They fled hastily from his curious fingers. Full of disgust Garrett then drew his fingers back, just to continue his search seconds later with more hesitancy, trying to find his willpower. Eventually he ran out of breath and swam to the surface.

In the end , he didn’t find anything.

Underneath the surface there was no grating that would help them escape. Unhappy and disgusted he shook his head, blinked the water out of his eyes. He searched for Attano, who then broke through the surface just moments after. He also needed a minute to regain his breath, shaking the wet hair out of his face. Garrett looked away again, searching the walls once more, this time more thoroughly and visibly uneasy. If they weren’t able to find a way out, this would get uncomfortable for him. Waiting for daybreak so Attano could yell for help, capturing him in the process. He needed to prevent that. Attano swam towards him, followed his movements for a short while and then coughed to get his attention.

„I don’t like this look…“, he whispered quietly. Garrett didn’t answer, just pursed his lips. Uncertainly, Attano looked up towards the drainage gratings looming over them.

„I could reach there. But the grating… Are there rats down here?“

Confused, Garrett furrowed his brow, immediately had to think about his swimming again. He didn’t answer, started to examine thr walls again. Above the water there wasn’t really a point in doing so, but he needed something to busy his hands with.

„There are spiders.“

He eventually stated, absent minded, without stopping his inspection. Attano grunted, proceeded to also let his eyes wander through the cave. Garrett had to find a solution. His mind went to the spiders in the other tunnel. Maybe he should try to find a way out there, even though he thought it was pointless to check at first. He really didn’t want to rely on Attano’s powers, or give him part of his tools once again. His picks were still missing and it pained him greatly. Additionally, there was nothing stopping Attano from leaving him behind as soon as he opened the gratings and pick him up later after escaping. Going to the cragscleft was definitely not an option. He wondered if he could climb. With a serious frown on his face he finally turned around and wanted to swim back, but Attano lunged forward and grabbed his arm. Startled, Garrett whirled around didn’t try to break free though at first. His gaze darkened.

Attano on the other hand looked at him almost a bit worried. His brown eyes were warm and questioning. Garrett squinted annoyed and Attano smiled amused. Slowly he swam towards him, closing in and bridged the little bit of distance that was between them.

„You didn’t swim here without knowing how to open the gratings, thief.“

He whispered. His words running down Garretts spine, burning in the opened skin on his back and he shivered. It took him quite some effort to suppress the urge to flee immediately and he lowered his eyes, down on his arm. Attanos grip was firm, but did not hurt, wasn’t to prevent him from escaping. Attano followed his gaze, seemed to understand what Garrett indicated and let go of his arm, then he looked him deep in the eyes before swimming away towards the wall again. Garrett pondered, looking at him out of the shadows. He was right. For now it was probably reasonable to work together. Eventually he’d surely find a way to escape him, when the time came.

He sighed, then he took his screwdriver from its sheat that was strapped to one of his legs and swam after Attano. The man didn’t say anything, just quietly observed Garrett, suspicious and curious. Reluctantly, Garrett held out the tool but before Attano could grab it he pulled it out of his grip.

„What is with me?“

„I won’t leave you behind.“

Garrett lifted one of his eyebrows and looked at him. Attano smiled.

„What can I say. I’m interested in a good guide...“

Garrett kept silent, glanced at the gratings above him. Then he pulled an arrow out of his quiver, removed the rope and handed both tools over into Attanos hands, who nodded briefly. Down here he couldn’t use the arrow as there was only stone. Without looking at Attano, he put the ropeless arrow back in his quiver. It was unwise to tell him that Garrett didn’t know what was behind the drainage systems, that he had never been there. For the moment, he will let him believe that he could be that guide Attano wanted and that he knew what he was doing.

There was no time to answer anyways in the end. Too fast for his voice, Attano was gone, disappeared in a flash of blue that twitched from the walls like lightning. It hummed softly in his ears, rippled over the water and created an echo in his bones that he wasn’t familiar with. He shoved the reaction to the side, let his eyes wander to the grating where Attano had reappeared again. His wet hair stuck to his nape. He inspected the grating and the screws, the screwdriver locked between his teeth. Skilled, he tied the rope around a protruding steel brace, then wrapped it around his arm and thigh. Secured and in a good position he took the screwdriver and began to remove the screws. Garrett tilted his head to the side. Attano was efficient, certain and knew exactly what he was capable of. He didn’t overestimate himself, his procedures were calm and cautious, gentle even. Garretts thoughts wandered to the book he got from Basso and in his mind he started to paint a clear picture of the man in front of him. A picture of a man, who had a whole nation searching for him, who eliminated every threat, calmly but cold-blooded. Dangerous. He shivered.

Curiously, he observed the frown on his eyebrows, the sweat beading at his cupitbow. His right arm trembling because of the strain, trying to loosen the screws and forcing them out of the rock. The metal cracked sharply, tore Garrett out of his thoughts and woke him up. He looked down on the water, then he swam towards the rope, dove out and grabbed it.

A surprised groan stumbled from Attanos lips, as the rope started to move, but then he just put the tool on the next screw and pressed firmly against it. The rusty iron crunched loudly, as it finally gave way. In the meantime, Garrett had almost managed to climb up completely. Quietly, so quiet, that Attano didn’t hear him at all. He risked a short glance down, saw Garretts slender body, how it glided up the rope, fluid and fast. He was almost invisible in the dark, the different shades of black and grey covering his form let him blend in with his surroundings. Curiously and quiet his long, skinny fingers felt over Attanos knee, searching for the rope wrapped around his thigh. Then, his strange eye lit up in a pale, shimmering blue, twitching through the dark. His hands found the rope in front of his stomach with ease and a gentle hum crawled over Attanos skin, dug itself deep into the warm flesh beneath his bellybutton.

Garrett didn’t climb any higher than that. He was almost high enough to not have any space on the rope anymore. With Attanos knee directly in front of his face he was in a good position to see everything and at least put up a fight, should Attano try to kick him down into the water again.

In the meantime, Attano had managed to get out all the screws that held the grating in the wall, still he had to push against it and it took a lot of effort until it finally let go of the rock it had held onto for centuries. With a gut wrenching crunch it ground down the walls of the cave and then splashed into the water. The cave threw back an indignant echo, as if it was angry that they finally managed to escape.

Suddenly, a flash of life twitched through the thief, surprised Attano, who had to grab the rope with both hands as to not fall off. Quickly, Garrett scurried up the last centimetres of the rope, stepped on Attanos thigh and disappeared in the hole, both hands outstretched. Attano suppressed the urge to just grab him, pulling him back. Instead he smiled amused. Garrett didn’t trust him any further than he could throw him. Still, he understood his urge to get away as quickly as possible. Eventually he loosened the rope around his thigh and followed Garrett. It was way smaller than Garrett made it look like. The pain in is foot was bad, but he was able to ignore it. It was time they found a way out.

Chapter Text

When Attano reached the end of the narrow chute, Garrett had already dropped down the two meters on the other side. He stood on a ledge out of broken, moss covered sand stone. It was dark and gloomy. He looked around, uneasy. Some stairs, that lead upwards from the right side ended abruptly in pitch black darkness. The cave they’ve entered was wide and dark, the kind in which you don’t have to speak in to know there will be a hollow echo mocking your insignificant existence. It was different than the one they came from, there were structures, pillars and stairs. It was man-made. And it was dead silent.

The thief was almost not visible in the dark. His short, slender form hardly moved when he turned his head, looking around alerted and attentive. Almost his whole body was covered in black leather or fabric, with straps and belts strung around his thighs. They held pockets, bags and tools. Attano was not at all surprised that when he wore his full gear he almost completely vanished in the dark. Just on his back, his clothes were scraped down to the skin. His spine was fiery red and full of abrasions, standing out from the all consuming black like a warning sign. Some of the wounds still bled, almost all of them oozed wound fluid, they looked terribly painful.

The rubble on the floor crunched quietly underneath Attano’s heavy boots when he let himself slide down the cold stone, his face scrunched in a pained grimace. Unmoved Garrett stood in the dark, then he crouched down and sneaked backwards, without a single sound. It was astonishing. Just a few centimetres before Attano he stopped and without looking at him he stretched an arm behind himself, indicating for him to be quiet. Garrett listened, Attano realised, listened carefully and with intent. Slow seconds passed but nothing moved.

Garrett’s hair was still wet from diving. It was cut unevenly, especially in the back and nape. His neck was greyish and pale, almost as if he hadn’t seen sunlight in years. Attano wondered, if it was actually possible to survive without sunlight. The thief was slim, but not just skin and bones. He had more weight than it looked like at first glance. His thighs were muscular and his back defined. The vein at his neck pulsed rhythmically, told of the tension and displeasure in his bones. But Garrett was a professional, hiding his uneasiness behind a stoic, pale face. Attano began to understand how nobody had ever managed to capture him.

“We’re not alone”

Garrett whispered suddenly, the words hissing through the dark and waking Attano, who had been rummaging in his thoughts. He nodded, then allowed his consciousness to pour into his mind and let his concentration surge through his veins. He listened. Firstly, he didn’t hear anything, then the power of the outsider suddenly crashed over him like a wave. Surprised he drew a sharp breath, suppressed a shudder. He tried to stabilise himself, when the dizziness seemed to overwhelm his senses. He looked up. The hairs on Garrett’s nape shivered, sluggishly he followed them with his eyes. Attano heard his heart, rhythmically, fast, like a metronome that his own power tiptoed around in a strange pattern. Almost in slow motion the shudder crawled over Garrett’s skin, the vein on his neck pounded. Garrett’s lungs filled with the air that Attano breathed and his eye twitched like it was his own. Attano blinked with effort, breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. His ears ringed. Sharp and biting the strong smell of wet moss, stone and sweat tingled in his nose. He concentrated on his hearing. There was a quiet crack in one of the Tunnels, then rustling, footsteps like those of a strange animal that walked upright and tall. Surprised and overwhelmed by the Outsiders power, he cut the flow. He needed a few moments to gather himself, before he could open his eyes again without fear the dizziness would overwhelm him once more.

Garrett huffed out an amused laugh.

“You should get used to it.”, he grinned. “The ruins of the keepers are nothing for the weak-minded.”

“Keepers?”

He asked, ignoring the charming insult, still trying to stabilise his breath. He was glad his voice didn’t sound as weak as Garrett implied.

The thief didn’t answer. He didn’t know what exactly Attano had heard. The noises were almost not audible at all, if you didn’t expect them. The fact, that Attano had channelled the primal, made Garrett assume that he could use it in many ways, a lot more than he himself could. One more time he realised how unrealistic it actually seemed to escape him. But this was something he had to think about another time, there were more pressing matters right now.

He had felt it before they managed to break through to the keeper ruins. When Attano used the primal, there was some sort of resonance inside of him, like a magnetic field. He wasn’t able to place it before, thought it was the fall, the dizziness, the cold water... he should’ve known. When he talked with Erin through the stone, he had experienced similar powers. He was annoyed he didn’t think of this option before.

Garrett must’ve become some sort of vessel, after the stone embedded behind his retina. And Attano had to be a vessel as well, otherwise this wasn’t possible. They both had to be able to not only use the power with the help of signs and sigils like the keepers did, but channel them from within. He had memorised many of the glyphs the keepers had used. They had taught him well. Carefully he let his fingers slip over the wet stone, chasing the feeling of power that was woven into the rocks like a lymphatic system. These caves were different from the old buildings of the keepers that he knew.

The ledge was part of an old staircase. The stone of the walls was full of delicate ornaments, the detailed pictures and inscriptions fine and in good shape. Garrett doubted they had any energetic value, but he felt the power surge through the rock, like an ore vein. A small hole in the floor connected to the walls lead to an underground lake. The whole cave system was probably once fuelled by the groundwater, that the keepers used to power their civilisation. This place was old, centuries. If his calculations were correct this ruins must be from the first era, an ancient place full of power he was not familiar with, even though he knew the order of the keepers from his upbringing. The first era, when the keepers were still a powerful civilisation, even before they decided to work undercover, from the shadows.

“What are those symbols?”

Attano’s whispered words tickled his ear. He was so close. Garrett shuddered but he didn't answer. He didn‘t know what to say. And even if he did, Garrett was unsure if it would be wise to disclose the information. After some time, when Attano was sure there wouldn’t be any words coming out of the thief’s mouth, he slowly let his outstretched fingers slide over one of the fine ornaments. It had the form of a staff, that went down the smooth rock into the black hole beneath their feet. Garrett turned around, went to the beginning of the stairs, that lead upwards. Even though he technically had no idea where exactly they were, it seamed reasonable enough to him to start searching for a way up. The staircase had broken down long ago, the black lake underneath had swallowed all its remains, like it did with the light and everything else around. Above them, there was some sort of arcade. He looked back to Attano, who looked at him curiously from the side. Eventually he came closer. Garrett followed his movements for a few seconds, then he averted his eyes again and looked up to the other end.

“We have to get up there.” Garrett whispered quietly. “And I can definitely do without...”, he looked down into the lake with a frown: “...another bath.”

Attano nodded amused, then he followed the gaze of the thief. For him it was easy to overcome the short distance to the other side. The power of the outsider in these ruins was exceptionally strong though. He hesitated.

“This place-“

Garrett stopped him in his sentence with a soft sniffling, turned around and looked him directly into the eyes. The dull shimmer of his left iris hummed in Attano’s skull. It seemed to be a bit brighter than before, livelier. Attano frowned, he didn’t like this at all. He looked away, wondered, why Garrett didn’t feel, sense the power with the same intensity. Clearly he stood in the gaze of the outsider as well. Suspiciously Garrett squinted in his direction, when Attano didn’t react to him.

“The keepers had used the power of the primal for centuries.” Garrett finally whispered, carefully, when he realised Attano’s hesitancy. He didn’t know how much information was wise to enclose. How much he could tell about the keepers, and how much that would reveal about his own upbringing. In the end he had learned from them everything he knew until the order completely collapsed. “Before the new calendar system, they were a prominent order with large numbers of people. Nobody really knows what happened, but a huge catastrophe destroyed the majority of the city and as a result the few that were left of them turned to live in the shadows of society. In the end they decided to dedicate their lives to maintain and preserve the knowledge instead of using it.”

“Are you a keeper?”

Garrett was silent for a few seconds, mulled the thought over. “I’m a thief. There are no keepers no more.”

It was true, as far as he knew. The order fell apart, slowly but surely after the treachery that happened within their ranks. Additionally, many of his memories were incomplete, after the incidents with the gloom and the primal. Some of them were only faded but a lot was missing completely. His origin felt centuries old, from another time, maybe even era. Attano didn’t answer, instead he placed one of his heavy boots on one of the stairs, testing their stability. They didn’t give way.

A second time he glanced up to the arcade that they wanted to reach, then down to his hand. It tingled softly and warm. A dull, blue shimmer broke through the saturated black of his mark, hummed through his veins. He hesitated again, this was dangerous if the cave influenced him so much. On the other hand, it seemed to enhance it more than anything else. Carefully he tried to concentrate, slowly and with care. Surprisingly, he didn’t even feel just his own presence, or the one of the outsider. He felt the rubble and sandy stone beneath his feet, the walls, every corner and crevice of the ruins every ornament and every brick. And he felt Garrett. He was beside him, his breathing was calm and quiet, but his heartbeat quickened, whenever he intensified the flow of the power. A shudder crawled over Attano’s spine, then he stopped. He looked at Garrett from the corner of his eye. It was definitely the same power and they were connected by an energetic field, like electricity. This was good. If he found a way to use this influence on Garrett, he could have a chance to capture him. Maybe not even just capture but also detect him, sniff him out like a hound.

For a second the thought crossed his mind to just leave the thief here, collecting him later with the help of the watch. Garrett didn’t seem able to overcome the distance to the arcade on his own. But he reconsidered. Garrett might seem small and helpless, but that wasn’t true at all. The thief was smart, careful and seemed to always find a way around the obstacles that got in his way. Attano didn’t doubt he would find a way out of the ruins without his help, maybe even outsmart his powers. There was a reason Garrett had managed to escape the law for two decades. He knew what he was doing. The fact that Attano didn’t manage to capture him yet also spoke of this truth. No, if he managed to escape these ruins, it was with the thief together. And then...

“Come here.” He whispered and waved with his hand in Garrett’s direction. The thief squinted suspiciously and frowned; his eyes twitched towards Attano’s hand. Eventually he complied. Fluidly, like a drop of ink, he slid towards him. Attano turned around and pointed to the arcade.

“You’re not going to like this proposition.”, he began, and Garrett’s eyes narrowed even more. The thief indicated towards him so he would continue, fishing for a rope arrow in his quiver in the meantime. “It would be faster and more efficient if I carry you.”

Garrett stopped dead in his tracks. Attano could see how his face fell and how his thoughts rushed behind his forehead. The thief turned and frowned. This was absurd. But there was no time for hesitation, for unsure looks and indecisiveness. His skittishness was indicating more of his position than he liked. He needed to look like he’s got the upper hand, knew what he was doing. They needed to work together for the time being, so be it. They looked at each other for a second, maybe two, then Garrett slipped behind him with a look on his face, that Attano couldn’t place. His nape tingled, when Garrett let his cold, slender fingers probe at the seams of his coat, The humming underneath Attanos skin got stronger, just a bit, but ever so persistent. It pounded softly. He suppressed the urge to shake his head for clarity. Just as he was about to question his proposition, Garrett jumped on his back without warning. Instinctively he tried to balance the weight with his injured foot and hissed softly, but then he slid his hand backwards to catch Garretts leg. He was heavy, heavier that he thought. But it could be his exhaustion. After all, he was injured and very cold. He shuddered.

Garrett felt Attano channel the primal before he saw the blue shimmer flickering through the dark. He was used to the soft humming, the electricity. The primal was embedded in his head after all, he knew about its impact like no other. Still, when Attano’s primal roared up it hit him like a carriage at full speed. Forcefully it pulsed into his limbs like a heatwave, crawled underneath his skin. Only thanks to his fast reflexes he was able to hold onto Attano’s shoulders in time. While the metallic whistling in his ears grew louder and louder, almost unbearable, the strain in his muscles became painful. His skin became tender, his veins widened and his toes tingled. Warmth surged from Attano’s body into his fingertips, crawled in his chest. It felt as if someone had tied a thread around his waist and it was tense like a bowstring, connecting his bellybutton with the upper end of the staircase. And just as Garrett doubted his abilities to stay conscious, the thread snatched.

Forcefully he was pulled forwards. His chest contracted, desperately trying to keep his lungs from dropping to the ground. His stomach clenched, slipped down into his loins.

And then it was over.

Softly and quiet, the primal hummed in his ears, seeping fed and calmed in his veins. It was tired, tickling exhaustedly in his left temple. He felt tipsy. Attano didn‘t move beneath him, his warm back pressing into Garrett’s chest. He had his eyes closed still, his breathing was shallow and slow. Only after seconds have passed, Garrett found the strength and the will to part from him and slid down his back. The man didn‘t object.

Garrett had underestimated the primal. He had trouble finding the right thoughts, catching them and hold onto them to actually understand. Only slowly he felt himself come back to his senses. Without actually feeling the need to carry on, he slipped into the shadows of a broken marble pillar and inspected the inscriptions without really being able to read any of it.

Attano followed the thief’s movements with his eyes. He had trouble breathing properly. What had just happened?Garrett seemed so untouched, calm, almost as if the power of the outsider hadn‘t just blinded his brains. Maybe it was just him? He huffed exhausted, then he straightened his back and stretched a bit. His head was swimming. But they had to move, keep going.

When he lifted his head, he saw the thief slowly following his movement. His eyes seemed heavy, sluggish. Attano smiled exhausted, so it wasn’t just him... Slowly he walked up next to him and sat down on the debris in front of the pillar where Garrett was standing. The thief chuckled; his deep voice distorted by the echo that resounded from the broken walls somewhere in the black darkness of the cave. Then he sank down as well, sitting down cross legged in front of him.

For many seconds none of them spoke a word. Attano breathed in. What was he even doing? He looked over to the thief in front of him. Garrett blinked slowly, his eyes, even though still hazy, scanned the room every now and then. He looked like a skittish bird, a pigeon, constantly checking, observing, twitchy. He looked different though. His expression had changed. Attano blinked. His mind wasn‘t fully back yet, he definitely imagined things. Or did he? He wasn‘t used to the Outsiders power having aftereffects like this, at least not for that long of a time. Sure, his vision always needed to readjust a bit, but he had gotten good at that, it only took him a second at the most. He was curious.

Garrett smiled mockingly, looking at him with raised brows. Only then Attano realised that he hasn‘t looked anywhere else while thinking. He laughed softly and rubbed his forehead and Garrett shook his head grinning. He picked something from his pants, his fingers always seemed to be busy with something Attano sighed.

Garrett looked at his fingers, his wrists. The fabric of his gauntlets was still wet from the water. At this place, deep underneath the crust of the city, the air was cold and moist. Attano’s clothes also didn‘t dry yet. The deep blue of his coat was almost black. He wore it open, revealing the sleek fabric of a white dress shirt underneath. It was dirty and slightly see-through, where the water has seeped into it. He must be cold. Still, Garrett felt warm. The primal heated up is blood, swam in his head. This wasn’t good, he shouldn’t do or say anything until the effects of the stone have waned. When Attano looked at him again, Garrett paused. They were enemies and yet they sat in front of each other, completely dishevelled by the power of a bloody rock. But was it important now? He was also connected with Erin through that bloody rock once. That didn’t make sense. He should stand up, should leave, continue their journey, should...

„Who is that Outsider?“

Attano, somewhat surprised by Garrett’s sudden inquiry looked up, after he had been inspecting his sleeves. Garrett almost couldn‘t see his face in the dark. His deep, bushy brows sat low on his forehead, gave him a sinister look. But Garrett wasn‘t scared. He thought it looked more sad, troubled if anything else. A few seconds passed.

Attano didn‘t know what to say, he didn‘t know who the outsider was. Many called him a god. Maybe he was one.

„He gave me this mark.“

Garrett didn‘t answer, just curiously observed the blue pulsating tattoo on Attano’s raised hand. He had big hands, rough, his knuckles scabbed, but the ink of his mark was black, deep and sharp. It was strange, reminded him of the glyphs the keepers had used, but it didn‘t resemble any that he knew. Maybe the outsider was a keeper?

„Why?“

He asked, and Attano smiled, seemed to think about the question for a moment.

„I don‘t know.“, he eventually settled on and Garrett frowned. „I think for entertainment, maybe.“

Garrett nodded briefly, thinking. His eyes twitched. Attano followed his movements, his glance. His eye glowed softly, in a blueish green, deep and hollow.

„Can you see?“

He asked and Garrett looked up slowly, seemed to judge, mock his question. When Garrett smiled, just for a faint second, he knew he definitely mocked him.

„I do.“, he said, whispered, so quiet that Attano had trouble to understand him. „Both of my eyes work just fine.“

A certain smugness slid into the thief’s face, distorting his features strangely, interestingly. His eyes glinted.

„You call it the primal.“ Attano whispered, his words tickling over Garrett’s skin, his curiosity prodding softly. Garrett hesitated, closed off. There was no point in telling him. He shouldn’t do or say anything until the effects have waned, he told himself once more. But still, Attano willingly gave up information about this Outsider of his even though it seemed to be delicate information. Garrett frowned. This wasn‘t about trust, they didn‘t need to trust each other. They shouldn‘t... Attano was under the influence of the stone as well, it made him say all that stuff. Maybe Garrett could use it to his advantage, get information.

Attano didn‘t press. His expression changed, he leaned back, stopped looking at him. Curiously, Garrett followed the line of his short neck. The stubble was thick and dark and his blood pressure was so strong that Garrett could see the vein pulse. His skin tone was warm, tanned, he wondered if his skin would tan as well, when he actually saw the sun more. He couldn‘t imagine himself tanned.

His head seemed to clear more and he pursed his lips. Distrust seeping into his mind again, hesitancy. Annoyed, his brows furrowed. Attano’s gaze became sinister, his mimic changed. Where he saw sadness just seconds before he now saw only danger. Slowly, alerted he got on his feet again, never turning his back. The primal muddled with his mind. Maybe he could use this to his advantage. Didn’t he think this before? Attano seemed to be effected by the primal, the Outsider way more than him. He could ask him about his powers, this Outsider...

Only with effort he tore his eyes from the man’s distorted face, assessed their position. The arcade was narrow, broken in some places. He couldn’t see far but there was a lot of debris and rubble slowly fading into the dark. Suddenly he remembered the noises from before, they needed to be careful, quiet. He glanced back at Attano, observed the man getting on his feet, trying to clear his head.

Slowly he let their interaction from just now replay in his head and frowned. It was as if the power made them drunk, stealing their secrets from their tongues. He needed to be cautious. He had said too much even though he didn’t want to. Even if it was possible to use this to his advantage, he knew too little about the influences to call it a safe bet. For now, it was probably better to avoid using the primal, or this Outsider power whatever Attano called it. Slowly he turned and sneaked away from the other man, into a different direction. It was hard to balance on the dusty floor, the rubble too loose and crumbly, ready to make any sound at the slightest mistake. This part of the ruins was destroyed even more than the staircase from where they came from. Garrett knew there was a good chance this was a dead end. But for now they needed to carry on.

Slowly but steadily he crept forwards. He remembered the sounds they heard before. They were heading in the direction where the sounds came from and they needed to be careful, quiet. Remembering Attano’s presence, he perked up, curiously looked behind himself as he realised he didn’t hear anything from the man at all.

Attano was indeed still behind him, a bit farther away, but really not as far as he thought. He was clearly having a hard time keeping up with him, yet he was incredibly quiet and fast for the injury to his foot. Garrett knew, that a level of this silence couldn’t be kept without putting weight on the injury, it must hurt a lot. It would be easy for him to leave Attano here now, continue the journey without him.

He didn’t.

Chapter Text

Carefully he observed the walls to the side and the floor. The tiles were broken and dusty, in some places broken off entirely. He really hoped that there wouldn’t be any bigger chasms to overcome ahead of them. Garrett was very much against using the Primal to this extent again anytime soon.

It wasn’t long until his eyes found a peculiar structure right next to him in the wall. It was a hole, round and insanely huge. It had been so dark, that its edges blend in with the dirt and stone of the walls so well, they were hardly visible. He frowned deeply and examined it closer. It was bigger than the one down in the cave, way bigger. He carefully inspected the circular shape that stared back at him like the open mouth of a hungry animal. The dirty sandstone was largely broken up, the brown earth behind it soft and moist. Roots erupted from the walls like the thin ends of rotten worms, looking as if they would grab him whenever they ventured too deep into the mouth of the tunnel. Garrett hesitated, running his pointed fingers thoughtfully along the ragged edge of the entrance. When Attano caught up with him, Garrett returned his searching gaze briefly, then shook his head quietly, turned and ventured forward.

Going into this hole was the last thing he wanted to do. Being in a Burrick tunnel was dangerous and he’d like to avoid meeting any Burricks again in his life if he could help it. These creatures were dangerous. And Attano apparently didn’t argue. Garrett wondered if the man was familiar with these monsters, if where he came from they also swarmed the underground.

He shuddered, remembering their leathery skin, their yellow eyes. Their appearance was so close to normal lizards, where there not their terrible size. They probably wouldn’t be that big – and dangerous – if they didn’t walk upright, like humans. But they usually were stupid enough to be outsmarted. The only thing they were truly exceptional at was sniffing out prey and belching acidic gas to kill it.

In the corners of the huge hall, where the structure of the building was sturdier, the arcade was mostly intact. But the sandstone was moist and crumbly, the smell of mould and earth creeped into his nose. There was a doorway in front of them, leading into a wider corridor. The actual door was long gone, just the rusty, bended hinges were clinging to what looked like the remnants of a splintered, mushy doorframe. His first instinct was to touch it, see if it wouldn’t crush them when they passed through, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want any splinters in his precious fingertips.

Stepping over a huge piece of debris, he carefully entered the corridor. A claustrophobic tightness engulfed him. The darkness was pressure, the smell was sickening. Garrett felt like a mouse in a trap, about to get killed any moment. He tried to ignore his dizziness, he needed to carry on. There was no point in succumbing to the anxiety now, he could succumb when the situation was over. Now he needed to concentrate. Annoyed he shoved the feeling away as best as he could. The floor of the narrow corridor was mostly gone, eaten up by the sharp teeth of time. Mud seeped through the soft suede of his soles, wetting his feet. Garrett shivered, curled his toes, the soft earth underneath his shoes felt like he was walking inside a sticky worm. Disgusted he shoved the thought far away and turned around.

Attano was a surprisingly welcome distraction from his mental dilemma. The man was close behind him, so close Garrett could almost feel his warmth in the cold darkness of the tunnel. Under different circumstances Garrett would’ve fled immediately, but down here there was neither the need nor the want for it big enough to make distance. He doubted there was room for it anyways. Instead, he just shot him an annoyed look, for good measure, and turned around again. There was a faint second where he thought he might’ve caught the man smile at him in reaction, but he was already venturing forward when the realisation hit and so he didn’t pay more attention to it.

“There’s a door.”

Attano whispered suddenly, tearing Garrett out of his thoughts. He must’ve stopped when he turned around about two metres behind him. Garrett squinted, he didn’t see enough in the dark, but he did see where the man was standing, the dirty white of his dress shirt an undefinable grey shape in the distance. Cautiously, he sneaked towards him, hands stretched out in front of him until his fingertips touched the coarse, wet fabric of Attano’s coat. Quickly he drew his hands back and looked towards the wall, concentrated with care. His eye tingled softly. The “door” Attano had mentioned was a door at best and an almost completely buried hole in the wall at worst. Garrett wrinkled his nose and the smell of mould and burnt something that reeked from there. He hesitated, contemplated, but Attano was determined.

With sure, strong heaves he began to clear the rubble from before the hole and Garrett was left no choice. Attano was going surprisingly quiet about it. At first, Garrett thought about helping him, but in the end, he decided against it. There was no point in getting his hands dirty when the man was doing such an exceptional job at it. Instead, he observed Attano work before him.

He was greasy. His clothes and hands were smeared with dirt, dust, and dried algae from the water in the cave. He smelled like swamp and sweat. Garrett wrinkled his nose again, but almost chuckled bitterly at the thought that they both probably looked and smelled like stinky sewer rats. Attano, sensing his amusement, turned around and inspected Garrett’s face with a raised brow, even though he probably couldn’t make out his face in the dark anyways. Garrett suppressed a grin. Even his brows were greasy.

Down here in the dark Garrett had a major advantage as his primal was directly embedded in his eye. Where Attano probably didn’t see anything, Garrett wasn’t as blind as him. He of course didn’t see much as well, but he at least saw something. On a short distance, he could see the dirt and the grease, his eyes and brows, the dark shadow of his beard, his lips.

When the hole was big enough, Garrett slipped through the wall. On the other side, there was another room, dark and full of ash and dust. He coughed silently into his elbow. Attano was following quietly behind him. When Garrett turned around the man had squeezed through the tiny hole in the wall. He was surprised Attano even fit through it at all. After he had pressed his broad shoulders through the aforementioned “door”, Attano hesitated, wrinkled his nose in disgust. The strong stench of mould and ash bit into his nose, making him gasp for air involuntarily, even though there was none in the approximate distance that could’ve gotten into his lungs.

“What is that smell?”

He whispered disgusted, his rough accent slipping through even now. Garrett shot him a hushed look, then balanced his weight on one foot.

“Apart from yourself?”

He smirked and Attano shook his head chuckling softly under his breath to not get another whiff of the acidic air inside the room. Garrett activated his primal again, carefully controlling the flow of energy to not overuse it and end up in a haze again. His skull hummed beneath his flesh and he shuddered. The room was round, with a high ceiling and many alcoves, there was a desk on a small pedestal, thick and sturdy, with a sleek candlestick on top. Quickly he sneaked towards it. The wax had melted onto the table, only with a sharp yank he managed to rip it from its surface. It was surprisingly dry. He frowned.

“If only we had something to light it.”

He murmured in thought. Close behind him he heard a quiet, confused breath.

“Light what?”

Garrett rolled his eyes, sneaked towards Attano who stood around 2 metres away, the candlestick in his hands. With the intention to mock the man’s eyesight he felt for his fingers. Attano flinched away but then quietly, curiously closed his hand around the round metal of the candlestick that Garrett gave him to answer his question. He hummed interested and Garrett frowned as his gesture was lost in the dark, but just shook his head and went to the desk again. Behind it, there were huge shelves, partly collapsed. His curious fingers slipped carefully over the wood and the ragged backs of burnt books.

A sudden crackle behind him made him jump and the room suddenly flickered to life in the warm, shy gloom of a candle. For a second he just looked baffled at Attano who had put the candlestick back on the desk and lit it with a small metal box he had produced from his mantle pocket. He grinned proudly, the sweat on his nose glinting in the small light. Garrett smirked turning around fully with a burnt book in his hand. It was definitely interesting, that Attano had a lighter this whole time, but chose not to use it.

“I was never this happy about a place being lit.”

Attano chuckled and Garrett came back to the desk where the man stood. Carelessly he let the book drop to its surface, shot Attano a smug look and then began to stroll through the room. The ceiling was higher than he thought, the alcoves full of debris, burnt wood, Ash and collapsed shelves. This place looked terrible, as if it exploded and burnt to the ground. The stench was unbearable.

“I didn’t know you believed in God.”

Attano said amused and Garrett questioningly turned around, seeing the man was browsing through the book he had carelessly pulled out of the shelf behind the desk when it was still dark. He lifted a brow but then continued to look for a possible way out, questioning the man’s priorities. Attano chuckled.

“Hammerites? What are they praying to? A giant Hammer?”

Garrett snorted and turned around again and Attano lifted his brows in amusement.

“Not far off. They probably had more hammers than followers.”

Attano laughed with a deep rasp, and Garrett shared a small grin. Then the man closed the book again, shaking his head.

“Your religion is even more ridiculous than the beliefs we have at home.”

Garrett didn’t ask even though he was curious.

“At least I don’t need to pray to a god to use my abilities.”

Attano was quiet after that for a while, thinking, and Garrett resumed to his endeavours finding an exit. Carefully he let his fingers twitch over the broken walls behind a pillar.

“Funny that you say that.”

Attano suddenly said, sounding suspicious. Garrett paid little attention until he spoke again.

“I never told you the outsider was a god.”

Garrett furrowed his brows, stopping with his inspection. Then he emerged behind the pillar, looking at Attano who’s gaze buried into his eyes like a hound. Garrett sloppily leaned against the round structure, crossing his arms.

“And? You want me to believe an ordinary man called ‘the Outsider’ gave you a magic tattoo that gives you superhuman abilities?”

He huffed amused at the change in Attano’s face and smiled softly.

“No, I stole from men for a god and I fought with a god against men. I know men are worse than god, but their power is less. And that is a good thing or the world would have long ceased to exist as it is.”

He didn’t intend to say as much as he did but in the end the words just stumbled out of his mouth. The eyes of Attano, his curiosity flickered brighter than the candle, louder than the silence around them. Garrett grinned smugly, it was a long time since his life had felt this interesting. He humoured this emotion for a bit, then he told himself about their need to escape. This was not the time to make friendly conversation. Especially not with his enemy.

Again, he left the pillar and started to roam around the room. There was no door and going up towards the ceiling didn’t seem like a solution either. They had to go back into the corridor to continue to search for an exit. When he came back to the desk Attano too had began to inspect the room. When Garrett found him he shook his head and they returned to the hole in the wall.

Attano left the candlestick in the room. There wasn’t much use for it outside anyways. For both of them it wasn’t a huge problem, they were familiar with the dark and they both wanted to prevent others from noticing them down here too soon. Still, when Garrett slipped back into the cold, earthy corridor he shuddered as the darkness embraced him.

They walked carefully, slowly crawling through the dark tunnel, their ears alert. Garrett sneaked slower than he had to, making sure Attano could keep up. His speed and silence was exceptional even though his injury must be painful. A few times Garrett thought that he shouldn’t rely on Attano's backing, but it felt so easy to trust his prowess and he was too tired to fight against it.

It was different from working with Erin, way different. Garrett knew, he didn’t give Erin’s abilities enough credit, still, she was a terrible partner on a heist. She was impulsive, fast, maybe even reckless from time to time. It made him twitchy and uneasy. They fought a lot, passive aggressively bumping heads and the tension was always high. With Attano it was calm, he could do what he thought was right and know the man would interject only in a reasonable manner. He would’ve made an incredible thief.

Lost in his thought, Garret neglected his cautiousness, didn’t hear the soft, mushy steps in the dark until they were too close.

Attano heard them. His thoughts were quiet, the pain in his foot always pulling him out of his mind with each step. Alerted his eyes twitched through the dark in front of him. He knew something was coming and he knew Garrett wasn’t getting out of its way, his fiery back a grey blob in front of his eyes. Maybe Garrett had a plan? Attano’s heart quickened, his fingers twitched. Eventually, he made a choice. With a sharp yank, Attano grabbed where he thought his arm, got Garrett’s wrist and pulled the thief back. He was light, his stumbling feet silent on the moist earth beneath his soles. Softly his wounded back collided with Attano’s chest. He didn’t gasp, didn’t make a single sound. He was so short. Astonished Attano looked at the back of Garrett’s hair. They needed to be completely silent and even as he was startled, the silence was so intrinsic to Garrett’s being that he just didn’t make a sound.

Immediately Garrett’s mind snapped back, sharp pain shooting over his spine. His heart jumped as his eye saw the burrick less than a metre in front of them. Every sound got stuck in his throat as the warm, acidic breath of the lizard creature bit into his eyes and nose. Attentively and fast he synchronised his breathing with the heaving and caving of Attano’s chest, so that his back didn’t rub against his clothes, sank into the warmth of his body.

Shame bubbled up in his stomach as the beast slowly trudged past them. The incautiousness gnawed on him. He usually wasn’t that dense. His senses got tired. How many hours were they down here already? He didn’t know. Softly he felt Attano’s hand contracting around his wrist in reassurance. Garrett didn’t dare move, only pressed his back harder against him in an attempt of an answer. Attano’s breathing calmed him, the warmth of his chest seeping through the wet fabric of his shirt, burning his tired muscles.

They stood like that for a while, waiting until the burrick was out of sight. Then a bit longer. And longer even, after the steps had vanished and the burrick had long been gone.

“What was that?”

Whispered Attano eventually, his breath warm against Garrett’s temple. Slowly Garrett peeled himself from his front, but didn’t leave yet. So much for the question if there were burricks where he came from.

“A burrick.”

He eventually whispered back, still slightly breathless. His eyes twitched into the empty maw of the tunnel where they came from.

“They are dangerous if they see us. And I’m quite sure the one we just saw won’t fit trough where we came from.”

He looked back to Attano, tried to read a reaction in the grey face he saw in the dark.

“He’ll come back. Let’s move.”

Garrett followed the path that made a slight bend to the right. He didn’t identify this as a burrick tunnel, had been too inattentive. He was angry with himself while the cold slowly crept back into his spine and his wounds started to itch. He needn’t dwell now, he needed to concentrate. Carefully he let the primal surge through his nerves, ignored the tingling.

The tunnel before them was empty, but the further they ventured, the rounder the walls got. He wriggled his toes inside his wet shoes, the suede of the soles now completely soaked through. Slowly the air became acidic, tickling the sensitive tissue inside his nose. He suppressed the urge to sneeze, eyes watering. They got closer to the burrick den. There was gentle pat on his shoulder and he turned around just to see Attano’s broad frame close before him. The smell of cave water and wool crept into his nose, of sweat and... he didn’t know; something else entirely.

“What can I expect?”

The man whispered quietly, the rasp of his voice completely swallowed in the mellow roll of his words. Garrett’s eyes twitched into the tunnel, then back to Attano.

“Burricks are lizard-kin creatures. Their sense of smell is exceptional. We can be lucky we reek of this cave more than they do.” He furrowed his nose. “When they attack, they spit acidic gas. I hope you are good at holding your breath, royal protector, and can protect your own royal behind, because I certainly can’t help you when they sniff you out.”

Attano chuckled quietly, the sound rolling down Garrett’s spine. Smugly he lifted one of his brows, even though Garrett probably couldn’t see it in the dark anyways.

“Don’t worry, thief, I can hold my own in a fight.”

Garrett nodded with a grin, then crouched down a bit deeper, indicating for Attano to continue walking.

Burricks usually dug big, spacy nests, which had several entrances and exits. This much he had learned in a time where he still roamed through the mausoleums of the Hammerites. Their tunnel systems were simple, often straight corridors with only some height difference. For some reason – and Garrett really didn’t care for the creatures enough to do the research – burricks often buried in the approximate distance of catacombs and mausoleums, which would mean they were probably able to find a way out if this den was no exception.

Then the tunnel changed, got wider, ended abruptly behind a sudden bend and Garrett was not at all prepared for the huge, grotesque face that appeared in front of him. A burrick. This Burrick was huge, different from the ones he saw when he was younger. It’s yellow, lizard eyes sat in its sockets like tiny pearls, staring into his soul. Not even a second passed, then the beast opened its giant, sticky maw and roared in such a high pitch that Garrett’s ears ringed, breaking the silence that has been looming over them. His heart jumped as his ears exploded in pain. Adrenaline flooded his veins, his knees got weak.

Just in time he was able to overcome his stupor, crouch down and slip past the beast into the tunnel, when a deep, rumbling belch echoed from the earthy walls. Behind him, Attano wheezed and coughed as he accidentally breathed in the acidic gas. Garrett froze, hesitated. Seconds passed, when he just stood there, listening, considering his options. He twitched his fingers. Attano was able to defend himself, and Garrett was unable to help him, when he was fighting in the open.

Another belch behind him made him move forward. Quietly he scurried along the walls through the dark. A few luminescent mushrooms were finally allowing him to see a bit more. For a second, the thought crossed his mind that the beasts were dependent on them for food, but his thoughts got interrupted, as the tunnel suddenly opened wide and dropped into a huge, earthy hall. They had found the nesting ground.

The colony was huge. At least a dozen, unusually big creatures roamed the room, alarmed and searching. Their wrinkly, teary eyes twitched nervously through the dark. They were scared, terrified, stomping through the room, sniffing. Their leathery gland sacks were stretched, fat and glistening like bulging ticks. The sound of their huge, open maws, panting and dripping made his heart pound. A biting, musty stench got whirled up by their claws and creeped through the cave. Garrett put his hand on his nose, suppressing a gag, his eyes teared up.

Suddenly one of the creatures near him whirled around, its eyes piercing through his own. Garrett jumped and stumbled back, but the Burrick had already seen him, ripped open its huge jaws and screamed. Immediately all eyes were on him, yellow marbles in the dark. And then all hell broke loose.

Stomping claws, hissing, spitting, and belching out of every direction and Garrett was drowning in feet, claws, eyes, and gas. His lungs burned; his heart pounded. With hands and feet he shoved the Burricks out of his way, slipping through the cracks between the bodies as they climbed and crawled over and under each other in an attempt to rip him to shreds. They were frantically panicking with fear, fury and whatever a beast like that felt, when it found intruders in its nest. Blind in fear Garrett whirled around, dodged another belch of gas that had been spat in his direction. It burned it his eyes and singed his lungs, scorching the sensitive tissue of his nose. He coughed in his elbow, squinting. His heart raced, fluttering in full panic, pumping and pumping blood until his veins felt like bursting. His lungs screamed and puffed like bellows, with only his ribs holding him together. When a burrick appeared right in front of his face he crouched down. He couldn’t have stopped it from snapping off his head. A knife cut through his vision, buried silently and sharp into its throat. The burrick howled, staggered and Garrett immediately dodged its following attack. Attano didn’t dodge. With a powerful leap, he ripped the knife out of the beasts neck, cutting the gland. The burrick screamed in pain and fury, whirled around, panted. Blood and acid spurted from the wide slash in its neck. His scream got hoarse, then bubbling until it abated in a whistling gurgle when its lungs filled with a deadly mix of acid and blood. Suddenly Garrett’s head felt light as if it was filled with dense cotton and wool. He swallowed around the fur in his throat, blinked.

An angry snap ripped him out of his stupor. Instinctively he crouched down, scurried through the shadows out of the way. Warmth seeped into his feet, the sticky blood of the burrick penetrating and contaminating his skin. He gagged in his throat, the cotton filling now further down his nape. Attano stood next to him, his eyes dark and deadly. Garrett surprisingly felt a wave of security wash over his shoulders. The cold of his cave-water-drenched clothes reassuringly creeping back onto his limbs.

They were afraid to come closer.

Garrett made use of this blink of an eye that kept the burricks from attacking them, slipped into the shadows and further away. Another scream echoed shrill and loud, piercing his ears, then stomping feet, panting maws and his own heartbeat rattling his bones to the core. He snapped his head back. Attano was nowhere to be seen, only the indistinguishable mass of scales and claws. Garrett’s heart jumped, his knees shivered. As fast as he could he climbed up a steep, earthy path at the end of the den towards the biggest tunnel he could find. The biggest ones where always the ones that lead outside. He whirled around.

Attano was stumbling. Another dead burrick right beneath his feet. But this time the pack didn’t wait to overcome their fear. With furious screams and howls they came after him, chasing him towards a smaller tunnel in the east.

Garretts stomach dropped.

The smaller tunnels were dead ends.

Fear sank in his knees, his breath got stuck in his throat, his heart splintered into pieces. He panted. Silently he opened his mouth, his voice slipping from his tongue before his lips could form words. The distorted face of the thieftaker general slipped in his mind. Erin.

You should’ve never let him go, Garrett.

He shook his head. No. Yes. He knew what he had to do. This time he was going to do the right thing.

There wasn’t a right or wrong. There was only time.

In the end he couldn’t. Just as he was about to scream, warn, do ... something, he realised he was too late. His screams were swallowed by the small tunnel Attano ran into, drowned in the stomping feet and panting maws that took chase. It was over.

Only when the last burrick had disappeared into the death trap, Garrett finally found the strength to move. There was nothing he could do or he would die too. He shouldn’t want to intervene. He shouldn’t… Quietly, he turned around, slipped into the tunnel until only darkness engulfed him.

Chapter Text

Garrett was alone.

Mechanically he had ventured forward, his back turned towards the nest, where the stomping, sniffing and howling had ceased surprisingly quick. The silence was deafening. Here, where the darkness blinded him and the cold bit into the damp fabric of his clothes he couldn’t flee it. Quietly his startled lungs whispered in the dark, got lost in the calm and steady breath of the tunnel. He needed to focus. It wasn’t over, he needed to get out of the ruins or he would die buried alive underneath the city.

His quads burned as he walked, the slight steepness of the earthy hole gave him hope. Then, when he really thought he was away far enough, he stopped. Seconds passed when he just stood in the dark, listening. But no sound tickled his ears. He whirled around, almost expecting Attano to just stand behind him, having followed him into the darkness without a sound even though he was injured and...

Silence and darkness.

Nothing more.

He continued. Attano was gone. And that was a good thing. Garrett held his gaze straight forward. He was his enemy, had been on a mission to catch him and other thieves, criminals and what not. There was no way they could’ve coexisted and Garrett was aware of the mess he would’ve made. Guilt started to creep into his bones but Garrett tried to ignore it. Attano could’ve survived if he’d alarmed him sooner, he could’ve stopped him from running into the small tunnel, the death trap.

Maybe he survived?

Attano was a strong man, he could indeed hold himself in a fight. A small smile picked at the corners of Garrett’s mouth. But it turned bitter before it could bloom. Yes, the man was strong but the tunnel was a definite death-trap. There was no way he survived this. And there was no reason to mourn. If anything he should celebrate. Attano was dead.

He didn’t know for how long he wandered aimlessly through the dark, counting his very steps out of boredom and fatigue. He was so tired. The cold, damp fabric of his clothes stuck to his skin, the temperature in the tunnel too low to dry it. He shivered. Somewhere far away the sound of dripping water dictated the pace of Garrett’s steps. Forwards, only forwards.

The tunnel got increasingly narrow, compressed his hope like his body was compressed by the walls and forced him to hunch down. Quietly the dry earth underneath his soles crunched and he let his fingers probe at the walls of the tunnel. The air was clearing up. Or was it just his nose getting used to the stuffiness? He pursed his lips bitterly.

Suddenly without warning the tunnel got wider, his fingers losing contact. Startled Garrett looked up, so slowly the light had came back that he almost didn’t realise. Uncomfortably he inspected the small room, the tunnel had spat him into so abruptly. The walls and floor of the small, rectangular chamber was covered in cold, crumbly sandstone. A few mushrooms lit up a corner, enough for Garrett to see he was back in the ruins. A wave of disappointment and exhaustion washed over him. He closed his eyes, leaned against the wall with his shoulder. For many seconds he just stood there, feeling the weakness in his legs, they were so heavy. His head pounded softly, his back itched. The latest days gnawed on him, he didn’t want to continue. Eventually, when Attano’s grim face appeared behind his forehead, he opened his eyes.

There wasn’t much in the room, only a wide, pillar like stone structure in the middle. What he first thought was a table he now identified as a tomb. Great. Pushing the feeling away of being buried alive, he took a deep breath and sneaked closer towards it. The top of the tomb was plain with little inscriptions he couldn’t read. But he immediately saw the Hammer that was carefully chiselled into the stone. Slowly he let his fingers slip over it, a smile creeping up on his lips. The sad sod in this box wasn’t really a lucky fellow, but for him his deathly presence was worth a fortune. A tomb and a hammer could only mean one thing: Garrett was on the right track. Where there was a dead hammerite, there were more dead hammerites and where there were more dead hammerites there were whole catacombs of dead hammerites. And good hammeritan catacombs needed an exit, most certainly – and traditionally – a church or mausoleum. Praise the builder, he was saved.

It didn’t take him long to find the exit to the grave room. An arched sandstone doorframe lead to a significantly larger, long hall, with graves and holy structures all over. Carefully and quietly he sneaked through the gaps in between the big stone sarcophagi. He had always been uneasy when it came to graves and dead bodies. Especially when they started wandering around. A shiver ran down his spine when he remembered his precious encounters with hammeritan zombies. He always thought it a safety hazard burying them with their ritual weapons.

Thankfully they didn’t seem up for a midnight stroll today as the hall kept quiet when he neared the end. To his surprise the door at the other side was intact, but thankfully not locked. Old, timeworn stairs lead up in a spiral stone staircase, that Garrett was sure to climb as fast as he could.

Silvery light seeped through the cracks of debris and rubble, almost blinding hum when he reached the upper fly of stairs. He had found a way out. Carefully to not ruin his hands or get buried alive, he cleared the stone and splintered wood of a former trapdoor away and squeezed himself through the gap. Exhausted, he crawled outside.

A soft, chilly breeze hit his damp clothes and made him shudder. The fresh cold air bit into the soft tissue of his face. He shivered, goosebumps crawling over his skin, making the wounds of his back itch. The weathered stone piles of the old, abandoned chapel felt crisp and hard underneath his feet.

He was on the other side of the river. Behind the grey, dirty clouds and the fog, the sun had started to rise, painting the city in colours Garrett rarely got to see. The tower of the holy building had long sunken into the earth, its pale, broken sandstone covered in moss, dirt and withered blackberry brushwood.

Garrett’s hands were scraped up, bloody and covered in dirt. The soft mud stuck underneath his brittle fingernails itched. When he looked down he got distracted by the blood on his skin. Images of the cave being covered in blood, made his skin crawl and his head feel light. He lowered his hands, tried not to think of Attano's eyes that pierced his own in a glassy, deathly stare.

The stones and walls of the ruins were covered by dirt and grass. It looked like a cemetery. Garrett didn’t want to think about what he had just buried here. He moved, didn’t want to stay where he couldn’t pretend he didn’t smell the blood on his hands. His skin itched again, his armour sticking to him like an unwanted second one he couldn’t wait to get out of.

It was better this way. Attano was a threat. A threat he couldn’t escape from. He had made the mistake before, he let Harlan live. He had done the right thing by keeping quiet not warning him. He- But Harlan wasn’t really a person he would be sad to bury.

The unexpected, skittish fluttering of wings ripped him out of the realisation that wanted to settle in his stomach, made him jump. It was a small group of dirty, grey pigeons, hurrying out of the way. Garrett relaxed again, slipped behind a rotten wall and continued his walk.

He reached the edge of the next functioning buildings just around the corner of the main gate, that hung askew in its rusty hinges. He felt like stepping out of a nightmare, he needed to calm down. He escaped, he was safe, his problems got solved. Lucky for him, he knew every creak and crevice of this city. And now, with Attano gone, he even felt comfortable enough to go through Stonemarket. Quietly he breathed out, slid into a back alley and crouched down. There were men of the watch patrolling the area.

As quick as possible he made his way through the slowly awakening streets of the city. His fingers twitched. With a jolt he scurried out of the way of some watchmen and hid behind a wooden fence. He felt unhinged, lost. There was nothing he could do. He needed to be careful, get home safe.

„…Attano.“

Garrett’s heart dropped to the floor before he even realised it was one of the guards speaking. The other chuckled.

„I know. He finally took some time off.“

As their voices faded into the morning dew, Garrett looked up into the deep cobalt blue of the dawning sky. His hushed breath fleeing his mouth as tiny clouds. Could he survive? He frowned.

Annoyed he turned on his heel and scurried up a roof. It wasn’t far to the watch quarters. Somehow Attano’s remains would have to get back to Spain.

Garrett owed him.

Quietly a rattling breath out of burnt lungs whispered through the dark.

The burricks were dead.

Sharply the biting smell of damp blood and bile cut through the air, of death, acid and flesh. Corvo’s heart was still racing, pulsed in his neck. His breath was heavy, his lungs exhausted and slow. Not enough oxygen. He coughed, blood spurting from his mouth, leaving a bitter, metallic taste that made him gag. Thick and sticky his blood formed blisters, popping and running down his nose and lips. Concentrating, he slowed his breathing, calmed his heart. If he now went into panic, he’d die. Many ribs on his left side were broken, his respiratory tract burnt by the acid. With sheer willpower he resisted the urge to cough again, slowly rolled his body on his right. With every breath his lungs and ribs burned, his muscles caving in. He squinted in pain, pursed his lips as he slowly got on his feet.

His left arm was broken. Pain piercing through his limbs making him quiver. His breathing was shallow, a quick, pained staccato. Blood and tears smeared his sight, his boots splashing as he dragged his feet through the thick fluid on the floor. He felt sick.

In front of him the corpses of the foreign lizard creatures piled almost to the top of the small tunnel. Corvo had been lucky. Because of the narrowness of the tunnel they weren’t able to attack them all at once. Still, the amount of enemies had been enough to eventually overcome him. A smaller specimen had suddenly squeezed itself through the bodies of its raging kin and smashed him against the wall. Only with luck and willpower he had managed to kill them.

He was tired. Slowly he blinked, his lids weak and sticky, looked down to his belly. The claws of one beast had buried themselves deeply into his flesh, ripping his skin. The would bled, seeping through his clothes. His vision faded and his ears pounded. He blinked again, squeezed past the corpses and crawled out of the tunnel. Without being actually able to see, he looked around.

The thief was gone.

Faintly he remembered his form, standing at one of the upper tutunnelsa small, black spot looking at him. With a sharp hiss he crawled up the steep path, a blinding pain raging in his bones. His breath quivered weakly, his left lung only bellowing sluggishly, delayed, rippled in his ribs.

The thief was gone.

Corvo couldn’t see. He didn’t know if it was because of the dark or that the edges of his thoughts got blurry and slow, his breathing shallow and quiet. He looked around, blinked. “Ga-“

The thief was gone.

A spurt of blood shot from his mouth and his words got drowned. Corvo frowned, a dull whistle in his ears. He needed to concentrate. Black and white dots twinkled on his retina, a static hum in his skull. There was a tunnel, Garrett must’ve come through here.

The thief was gone.

Corvo knew that there was a conclusion he could draw from that. He coughed again, gagged, spat the blood out. Dizziness overcame his senses and he fell on his knees. Slowly, terribly slowly he crawled into the tunnel.

Corvo didn’t know how long he crept through the dark tunnel, how long he crawled inch for inch until a faint, pale shimmer hushed through the end of the tunnel. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he squinted. The tunnel got increasingly narrow, the earth dryer. Only in a crouched position he could finally squeeze through the end and his hands touched cold sandstone. He huffed, his breaths short and pushing. His lungs were badly damaged. Only with effort he was able to calm his heart, again stopping the panic from overpowering his senses, shoving it back in his throat.

The room was almost empty, weathered and dark. Only a dark structure of unknown shape in the middle. He blinked. The broken sandstone floor was dirty and grey under his feet, looked exactly the same as the one in the ruins, where they had started their journey. But... he was alone... who?

The thief was gone.

Corvo sank to his knees, puked blood. His thoughts were so slow, he was so tired. He had to carry on, had to find a way out. He tried to open his mouth, form words, blinked as only a bubbling whistle fell from his tongue. Then night fell. Night?

He must’ve blacked out. A fallen stone and crunching rubble tore him out of his slumber. The pain was worse, his stomach churned. Corvo coughed again. He had to carry on. Pain exploded in his side as he slowly dragged himself over the tiles with scraped up hands and knees. The dried blood stuck to his skin, only parted from the stone unwillingly, where he had sat.

There was an arch on the left side. Slowly he crawled through it. Forward, only forward. He almost couldn’t breath anymore, his lungs bellowed and strained. With willpower and strength he forced his diaphragm to contract pressing only a small amount of air out of his lungs. The pain in his ribs was unbearable. He almost couldn’t see anymore, his vision red and twitching flecks of black. He couldn’t hear, only a whirring shrill whistle piercing his drums.

Time was a weird concept. It could’ve been hours he dragged his tired body through the long hall, it could’ve been minutes. Voices started to form in his head, shadows that stood above him. Was he lying? He blinked slowly and the shadows moved, talked. Whalers, Daud’s thugs, that still haunted his darkest dreams.

It was a fitting end.

Chapter Text

Lies

Dark clouds obscured the gray moon over Stonemarket, weighing heavily on Garrett’s shoulders. Shyly, the light of the last candle flames flickered out of the milky windows into the night. It had rained. Black water twinkled between the cobblestones of the streets, forming dirty puddles in the shallow furrows of the carriages. It smelled of fresh wind and smoke. Garrett closed his eyes and slowly knelt down, the wet roof tiles clacking softly as he shifted his weight.

He let his eyes drift into the distance, where the dirty fog swallowed the grey, crumbling roofs until they were drowned in a rolling sea of smoke that lapped at their ridges in lazy waves.

His fingers twitched, betraying the tension that was slowly surging through his limbs.

There had been rumours, quiet whispers in the streets. Rumours that made his heart pound. Three days ago, the Royal ambassador, Sir Corvo Attano, had been administered to the hospital.

A frown settled on his forehead, as he slowly started to make his way over the roofs of the high townhouses. The night was still young, it would be another thirty minutes until the last citizen would finally put their head to rest. Garrett couldn’t wait any longer.

Fluidly he slipped through the night, avoiding open spaces, watchmen, drunkards and criminals, remaining carefully hidden before prying eyes.

When he reached Riverside he got twitchy, whirling his head around at every sound. He breathed in quietly, blinked, calmed his nerves. He needed to know.

The dark windows of the hospital wing gaped at him gloomily, making him shudder. Annoyed, he pushed his thoughts aside. He knew what he was doing. After all, he wasn’t in the business for over twenty years for nothing. A smug smile crept onto his face. He quickly scurried from one roof to the next, skilfully climbing over wooden slats, rafters and railings. Construction work was underway on the east end of the building. The scaffolding offered a perfect opportunity to take a closer look at the windows of the patients tower.

The loosely carpeted planks and logs were thin, wet and shaky. Garrett wasn’t heavy, still he was even more careful than before to not make a sound. Slowly the cold crept through his soles. Yesterday, he had painted the inside of his shoes with a hardening, waxy paste to insulate the suede and make them waterproof. The cold they didn’t keep out. Repressing a shiver, he curled his toes and peeked through the first window.

Silence on cold and dusty tiles greeted him like and old friend. The two beds in the room were dirty and grey. There were people sleeping quietly. Their peaceful breathing seemed out of place, contrasted with the smell of sweat and illness that crept in his nose. He turned around and started to climb higher on the scaffolding. Attano, if administered to this hospital, surely didn’t share a room with the common peasants.

It was only half an hour later, when he finally reached the rooms that were reserved for the more wealthy part of the population. White curtains that were holey and turned yellow by the smoke of pipes and cigarettes quietly fluttered in the soft wind, allowing him to only glimpse into the rooms.

He searched for a long time, peeping into windows, carefully avoiding to be seen.

Finally, covered by the grimy veils of sickness, Garrett saw the dark brown hair, almost black in the night, that he immediately recognised. A strange feeling pulsed through his veins, lingered. Uncomfortably he tried to shove it away for now, couldn’t place it. The blues and greys of the small single room mingled and the wind whispered a gentle breath over his face.

Attano was lying in bed, like a corpse. Strange machines and tubes surrounded him in an alien embrace, supposedly trying to keep him alive. He wasn’t conscious, if sleeping or otherwise Garrett couldn’t tell. Was he dead? Peacefully sleeping? Uneasily, twitchy, he looked around, frowned, then he overcame his hesitancy and carefully slipped into the room.

The broken chessboard tiles felt almost warm underneath his feet, that were freezing from the wet, mushy scaffolding. Dust covered the upper shelves. A single, sad plant with droopy leaves, yellowish and thirsty rustled softly in the wind. His heart pounded hard and heavy as he slowly crept closer.

Attanos eyes were closed. His thick lashes were grimy, sweat glistening on his pale skin, making it look oily. Enough to immediately tell Garrett that he was alive, without even noticing the slow, minimal heaving of his chest beneath the dirty blanket. His lips were pale and chapped, with yellow crusts in the corners of his mouth. When the strange feeling came back, Garrett abruptly turned around, searching for something, what exactly he didn’t know. As he was about to turn around and leave, his eyes dropped to a sheet of paper that had dropped to the ground, almost slipping underneath the bed. Carefully he crouched down and fished it out from beneath the frame.

It was a note to a nurse.

The patients lungs have finally stabilised. He mustn’t be moved! If the body starts to reject the surgical efforts, inform the station doctor urgently. Check the patients bandages every two hours, change them twice a day and control the stitches for any abnormalities. DO NOT REMOVE LIFE SUPPORT, EVEN IF HIS RESULTS ARE NORMAL, WE DON’T WANT TO LOSE HIM A THIRD TIME!!!

Garrett shuddered as a terrifying realisation hit him. Attano killed the burricks. All of them. All of the burricks in a narrow tunnel, a death trap. And he managed to survive. His knees got weak. Quickly he folded the sheet of paper, put it on a table and hushed towards the window again. He was here for way too long already. Silently, he glanced back, followed the mans quiet breathing for a few seconds, then he slipped out into the night.

He lived.
Garrett still couldn’t quite believe it was true, didn’t think it was possible. He slowed his walking. Did he not? In the end it was him who had sent the watchmen to find him.

The world has became complicated. When he was younger, it was easier to sort people into categories. Good and evil, friends and enemies. Attano was his enemy, clearly even, there wasn’t a place for the relief that he had felt when he confirmed the man was alive. Uneasily he flicked his fingers over the wrist mechanisms where his lockpicks rested quietly in their sheaths. He shouldn’t have snuck into the watch headquarters, shouldn’t have left a note  that Attano was exploring the ruins and needed some backup. At least there was no way to trace the note back to himself, as he pretended that Attano had written it. Not yet anyways.

Lazily he scurried over the roofs and searched for open windows, that lead him to some potential…customers. When Attano woke up…if he woke up, he would find out. Garrett smirked bitterly. Maybe that got him a blanket to decorate his prison cell for his kindness. The idea that Attano would show his gratitude wasn’t even that far off. Not to him though. Garrett was an outlaw, Attano owed him nothing.

Fluidly he slipped some golden cups into his pockets, polished some silverware with his cape, before pocketing them too. What he had done was done now, he couldn’t change it anymore. With the rumours of his weakened state and his hospitalisation, he was sure that some criminals took notice and would try to harm the man. Skittishly he looked around, suddenly feeling agitated, hunted.

The window behind him stayed empty. The night had cleared up, the grey, dirty clouds that usually obscured the starry sky had almost vanished. Normally he didn’t like a clear, bright night, as it allowed the sight of watchmen to travel further, noticing him easier. Right now he didn’t find the nerve to complain.

When his pockets were heavy and full, he eventually had to suppress his restlessness and needed to turn back. The night was still young. Without hesitation he turned on his heel and headed towards the crippled Burrick. Today it was significantly warmer than the other days. Garrett sighed quietly as he slipped down the brittle tiles of an old roof that were only held together by the usual wetness of the city.

The farther he got away from the hospital the more he calmed down. His muscles loosened and his movements got smoother. Fluidly he slipped over some crates, down the rough cobblestoned street, carefully sneaking in the long shadows of the towering townhouses. The tall archway looked down on him as he approached the courtyard of the crippled Burrick. Only thinking about burricks made his stomach churn. He shoved the feeling away.

It never felt natural, when he straightened up and pushed against the door of the old run-down pub. Its state wasn’t as bad as the sirens rest but it wasn’t exactly good either. Grimy walls, covered in dirt and mud and other unidentifiable substances made him scrunch his nose. Basso wasn’t in the pub though. Slowly, Garrett walked up to the counter and ordered a beer. While he waited he observed the crowd.

There weren’t many people in this room at this time of the Night. The evening had long passed and the morning wasn’t quite near yet for the rough rats of harbour workers to creep out of their holes. Garrett yawned, he felt exhausted. With a frown on his forehead, he took the beer out of the bartenders hands, gave him some coins and went for Bassos den.

When he entered, the sickening, biting stench of burnt leather crept into his nose and he involuntarily paused in between the doorframe. Disgusted he walked into the room, handed Basso the beer he had bought just now, who nodded thanks and resumed to his work. Garrett didn’t know what he was burning in the fire right now, but he didn’t want to ask either. A young, blue-eyed crow mustered him from a shelf, cocked its tiny head in curiosity. Garrett lifted his brow and the bird ruffled its feathers.

“That’s Bonnie.”

Basso had stopped watching whatever he was burning and followed his gaze to the bird. Garrett didn’t move, kept observing the crow as it, supposedly bored, clicked its beak.

“Someone you know?”

Basso scoffed roughly and waved his right hand dismissively.

“Won’t make the same mistake twice. Jenivere was an exception.”

The fence still only spoke good of his former magpie, quite the opposite though when he spoke about her namesake. It was the first and last time the man tried to marry. Garrett smiled.

“Probably better that way.”

Basso rasped out a laugh, then gave his shoulder a rough, but fond slap.

“Come.”

Basso got around his desk and Garrett followed. When the man opened one of the drawers, he got curious. With his thick, dirty fingers, Basso produced a yellow paper with a smudged drawing on it. Garrett squinted, unable to decipher the lines in the bad light.

It was a map. A map that was supposed to lead him through the sewers – again – to get into the inner sanctum of a Chapel – again – and steal a ring that had been buried for a long time. Garrett, who was all too familiar with that kind of job and who really didn’t want to go scrunched his nose and plucked the paper out of Bassos hands with visible disgust. The man laughed and slapped his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Garrett. I learned from the past.”

Garrett, now even more worried than before, lifted a brow. Basso huffed loudly, coughed.

“Its not really a sanctum, its more like a crypt, which is sealed from the outside. The successor wants to sell the piece of his great great grandmother but legal authorities wont let him, hence he came to me.”

He laid his fingertips on his chest and breathed out which ended in another cough. Then he turned to the brazier again.

“You should be able to enter the sewers best near the hospital.”

Basso must’ve seen something in Garrett’s face, he knew him for so long. A deep, raspy sigh left his throat as he let himself fall heavily into a chair. Then he drank a big gulp of the beer.

“You’ve heard the rumours...”

He began, watching Garrett’s expression like a hawk. The thief didn’t slip up again.

“I haven’t sent anyone to prove them.”, Basso rasped, his words immediately being followed by a wet, disgusting cough. “But whispers say nothing good. For him that is. For us? It’s a blessing!”

Garrett managed to chuckle at his words and Basso seemed to get off his back. The fence was incredibly smart and attentive. But Garrett didn’t think he suspected anything about him having to do something with the mans hospitalisation. And even if he did, there wouldn’t be a need to hide it.

Garrett didn’t necessarily hide it really, he just had only now decided what to leave out of the story. There wasn’t a point to Basso knowing that the administration to the hospital was indeed his doing, but in an attempt to save him, instead of the opposite. He smiled.

“Attano and I...”, he began, Basso immediately straightening in his seat and listening closely. “...we had a most unfortunate encounter at the old well house.” Garrett enjoyed the attention and interest of his fence for a second longer, then he continued.

“During our little game of catch we both got ourselves trapped in some old keeper ruins. He injured his foot. It were some sort of sanctuary from the first age, old and powerful.”

Basso nodded, his brow furrowed. He drank another quarter of his beer, before Garrett continued.

“Attano has...special skills, he is able to use the primal, but his ways to do so are more abundant and more powerful than mine.”

Basso coughed wetly again, made Garrett’s own throat itch. He scratched the back of his hand.

“That is bad. Really bad.”

“Mhm...” Garrett kept silent for a few moments, watching Bonnie through the corner of his eye. “On the way out, we had to pass through a burrick colony and-“

“Burricks? I haven’t seen a burrick in ages, I thought they killed all of them?”

“I managed to escape, as I knew how their tunnels work. Attano...wasn’t that lucky...”

Basso laughed loudly, the sound way too harsh for Garrett’s ears. He winced, then smiled as well.

“This is all I know.”, he lied, playing with a paper on Bassos desk. Bonnie clacked her beak. The fence hummed thoughtfully, thinking.

“I see... If he survived, although the chances are incredibly slim, he must be in the hospital, which would align with the rumours...”

Garrett clicked his tongue. “I doubt it. The burricks were bigger and more aggressive than I’ve ever experienced. Not even Attano could be this strong.”

Guilt seeped into Garrett’s bones at the lie, but he shoved it away. For now. That he lied in the first place was a matter in itself that he needed to spend some thought on, but it hardly was the time. Basso suddenly got up from his chair and went to the fire, checking the burnt remnants of whatever he threw in it before Garrett had entered.

“Maybe you’re right. We should wait if the talk solves itself, lay low. It could be a trap.”

Garrett nodded slowly, changing the subject.

“My back was injured. I need medicine to avoid infection. Swimming in murky cave water doesn’t really go well with open wounds...”

After Basso had cared for his back and changed Garrett’s sloppy bandages, he left the tavern again to secretly move back into his clock tower. At least for as long as Attano was bedridden, he would be able to flee the oceans grip. He desperately needed to fix his gear, lick his wounds and think about some things that really pressed on his nerves.

The clock tower was stuffy and full of dust. Garrett tried to breathe shallowly as he carefully lit up some candles. He only allowed himself to light a few, as he didn’t want the light to be seen outside through the window. There were footprints in the faint layer of dust on the floor, Garrett could only see them, when he concentrated. They were huge, the feet of a man. Attano had come here alone, he had been the only one entering his former hideout.

When he sneaked towards his workbench, he immediately saw the painting, that was lying on top of it. He remembered writing a note for Attano before he left and smiled at his little prank. If he ate the apples that were still in the barrel? Curiously he went to check.

The apples were still there, now slightly wrinkly and soft, with a faint, oily peel. Garrett closed it again with a thud and went downstairs. Surprisingly enough, his whole collection was still there, Attano didn’t seem to have touched anything. Confused Garrett frowned, concentrated again. But yes, the footsteps clearly showed that the man had been here. Interesting…

After he had reassured himself that all of his things were indeed still present, he shoved away the thought for another day. He had important matters to tend to. Carefully he removed his armour, the leather gently gliding off his skin. The back of his leather shirt was ground off, a huge hole gawking at him. Frowning, he wondered how he would fix this, and put it aside for now. He also needed to craft some arrows, retrieve the claw at the well, fill up his lockpicks. Garrett started to clear up his desk.

As he picked up the painting to set it aside, a small, cursive handwriting caught his eye. His heart jumped at the sight and his fingers twitched. Suddenly he felt all mushy and tingling, nervous. He frowned, then sat down starting to read.

Thief Garrett

When you read this, I unfortunately must assume that you have been victorious over me and moved back into your old hideout.

Know that I have greatly enjoyed our little game of cat and mouse, even though it truly surprises me, that I must’ve been the mouse all along.

I worry about my daughter.

You seem to be a man of your word, that you believe in the code of the outlaws. You brought back my ring after all… I have not moved a single jewel in this den. Consider this payment.

Protect my child. She is not safe with the law.

Corvo

Garretts heart pounded, his legs restlessly twitching. Eagerly he stood up and walked to the window. It was still dark, but the sun was starting to paint the sky blue.

Garrett groaned quietly and gripped the bridge of his nose. Attano wasn’t dead, not yet anyways. He sighed, looking at the painting in his hands again, reading the words. Attano had too much trust for him after one simple incident. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, then he leaned out or the window, watching the sky slowly fading into a brighter blue.

Rumours travelled far and wide. Attanos situation wasn’t exactly helpful. It wouldn’t be long until the rumours spread to his home. There wasn’t much Garrett could do for this daughter of his anyways though, even if he wanted to. She probably was in a country far away from this stinking city, Attano didn’t exactly have the time to make any daughters here yet.

The code of the outlaws, a favour for a favour. Garrett believed he had done the man enough favours already by saving his hide. Now he might had something against him. He sighed.

And what if Attano died?

Garrett frowned, walked away from the window and put the painting on the desk.

When Garrett woke up again, there was still time to fix some of his gear before nightbreak. He patched up his shirt with some leather scraps. It didn’t really look dashing, but his suit wasn’t exactly made to be looked at anyways. Quite the opposite. There was a busy night lying ahead of him. Retrieve the claw, then get on with Bassos task. He needed to hurry with his arrows. 

The dark clouds hung low and full over the city, looking like they would almost touch the ridges of the higher roofs. The air was thick and tense. There was a thunderstorm coming. Garrett liked thunderstorms, in the comfort of his home. He blinked against the wind and sped up his steps. The way was familiar. Only yesterday he followed the same roofs to the hospital. This time though, he would visit the cript in its area, to steal the ring. But first, he needed to find the sewers entrence.

The hospital window to Attanos room was open, the milky curtains rustling softly when a gush of wind picked them up and shook them thoroughly. The room was dark, the grey lightbulb at the ceiling unused and dull. Garrett frowened, his fingers curiously pawing the sill. The tiles underneath his soles clacked softly with the shift of his weight, when he leaned in and looked around.

Attano was sleeping. Most of the machines where still there, but it seemed as if he was able to breathe by himself again. Garrett ignored the pressing question why he had returned to this place instead of going straight for the sewers and looked around once more. Then he carefully lifted himself up and slipped into the room. The silence was deafening. Quietly he sneaked towards the bed, looked for any changes. Carefully he concentrated, activated his primal. People have been in and out of this room continuously, leaving-

A ragged, startled breath behind him made Garrett jump and crouch low. His heart almost running out of his chest, he stifled his breath and didn’t move an inch.

“Garrett?”

It was only a whisper, soft and hoarse, that only the silence was able to carry to his ears. Garrett didn’t answer. Slowly he turned around, fluidly, a shudder dripping from his spine as his eyes twitched towards Attanos face.

He was awake. Garretts stomach churned, his heart dropped to the floor. For endless seconds they just looked at each other, neither of them willing to break the silence. Then Attano smiled quickly, and Garretts tension left his lungs in a huff. Garrett grinned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“How’s your foot, General-“

“Corvo.”

Garrett hesitated. Then he smiled bitterly and shifted his weight to the side. Casually he leaned on a pillar and pulled the mask from his face.

“Corvo.”, he eventually said, tasting every letter of his name as it rolled from his tongue. It made his mouth feel furry and he resisted the urge to scrape his tongue with his teeth. Attano huffed out a raspy laugh, not more than a thin breath.

“Have you-“, the man had to disrupt his sentence as a cough shook his body. “Have you come to finish me off?”

Garrett smiled softly.

“And let all my strong efforts be in vain?”, Garrett shook his head and came closer. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Attano didn’t seem to understand for a second, then he looked outside the window. The more the sleepiness left Corvos body, the more he seemed to find his voice again.

“Then why are you here?”

Garrett looked at him curiously, his eye glinted softly in the dark, hollow, like a gemstone. His crooked nose twiched. He didn’t answer, his thin lips sealed tight. Silence was spreading between them. Not an uncomfortable silence though. It was a silence, where both of them carried on their thoughts, coexisting in each others presence.

Garrett casually sat down on a chair, busying his fingers with the buckles of his armour. When he looked out of the window as well, Attano laid back on his bed again. His eyes were heavy.

“Why didn’t you leave me to die?

Garrett huffed out a soft breath, the question hanging heavy between them. Corvo wouldn’t have been mad at Garrett for leaving him to the burricks. He was his enemy, a dangerous one even. Corvo himself woul’ve probably done the same. The whole day after he awoke for the first time, found his way back to consciousness, the thief taker general was adamant to speak to him. When he heard about the note, Corvo was surprised and confused. Only after the visit, it dawned upon him, that Garrett would’ve been the only one able to write it. Garretts eyes were curious, following his every word, every move. A shudder crawled down his spine as the thief slowly tilted his head, his pointy tongue slipping out of his mouth to wet his grey lips.

“I’m a thief, not a murderer.” He whispered slowly. Attanos lids hung heavy on his eyes. He looked tired and exhausted. The rough stubble on his chin moved as the man pursed his lips and a weak chuckle tumbled out of his mouth.

“You’re a liar.”

Garrett smiled.

“It’s what I do.”

Attanos little grin made the tension leave Garretts body and he slouched down in the chair a bit. He scanned the room for valuables. Of course, he wouldn’t steal any of them. Then the people would know a thief had been here. He took a deep breath before turning his eyes to Corvo again.

“You look like a man that follows the code of the outlaws…”, Garrett murmured slowly, his curious, glinting eyes never leaving the others gaze. Corvos heart dropped, his mouth parted. Then he breathed out and looked at the ceiling.

“You have found my letter.”

“I didn’t know you had a child.” Corvo couldn’t place the look on his face, there was curiosity and something else entirely. Garretts long fingers twitched in his lap. “A favour for a favour-“, the thief continued slowly, his voice strangely distorted. Corvo smiled dangerously, never once leaving the thiefs eyes. This was a less than ideal situation. Garrett found something, that he wasn’t supposed to see until he had died and there was nobody in his circle who had enough prowess and power to protect Emily from the shadows.

“My daughter is the empress of Dunwall.”

Silence fell between them. Garrett was obviously surprised. Seconds passed until a frown settled on the thiefs forehead. “Why are you so willing to give this valuable information up this quickly?” Garrett was reasonably confused. Attano chuckled softly.

“Because I know you’re smart, thief. You know that in the case I die, the empress will be in great danger. People of power would try to hurt her, when the royal protector is not able to get in their way-“

“-and the economy would collapse, if the empress is overthrown…”

Garrett frowned, his eyes twitching to the window. The tiles on the roof next to it were dry and dirty. A fresh wind tickled his nose and the curtains bellowed softly.

“You’re not dead.” He eventually said and got up, slowly walking around the room, inspecting the machines, the flowers, the mirror. Corvo blinked slowly, his body heavy and his wounds itchy.

“Not yet.”

He gave him a meaningful look.

“I have saved your life once. I will not protect it.”

Garretts gaze darkened as he neared the window. Attanos eyes bore into his, then his look softened.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

The inside of the sewers smelled rotten and foul. Garrett had not been that glad about his mask ever before. The air was stuffy, humid, and warm. He suppressed the urge to scrape his teeth over his tongue as the reeking waters singed his nostrils. Somewhere far away water from another murky pipe dripped into the homogenous mix of human waste, mud, and rotten rags. He scrunched his nose and concentrated. There was an old iron drain at the ceiling. Only thinking about touching it made him shudder. But the sooner he got out of this stinky tunnel the better.

Even though he had previously scrunched his nose at the sewers being so narrow, he was now glad about it, he had no trouble reaching for the drainage. The metal was slimy to the touch, made him shiver. The heavy iron crunched uncomfortably in his bones as he lifted it out of its place, squinting as to not get any droplets in his eyes, and opened the hole.

The dry sandstone underneath his fingertips was welcome. Carefully, he heaved himself out of the sewers. The crypt was pitch black, no light coming from anywhere in the surrounding area. It was silent. Even Garretts quiet suede steps could be heard, the soft rustling of clothes, when he moved, his shallow breath. Calmly, he concentrated, let the primal flood his senses. There was a wide sarcophagus in front of him. A shiver ran down his spine. The ring was supposed to be somewhere in the crypt, where exactly the customer hadn’t disclosed. Garrett frowned and hoped there wouldn’t be any grave robbery involved. Not that he hadn’t robbed graves before, he just didn’t want to deal with some of the dead that were somehow materialistic enough to try and stop him. This didn’t happen in years, but he certainly still remembered the search for the horn of Quintus.

A small offering table on the left of the sarcophagus caught his primal eye, several items being displayed on top of it. Hastily he hushed through the dark, inspecting the items in front of him. There was a necklace that he quickly pocketed, some unidentifiable matter and dust that might once have been herbs for embalming purposes. Garrett twitched his nose and carried on with his search.

There were urns and baskets, long rotten and murky to the touch. He searched through the debris and delicate containers, the smooth wood of a sodden chest felt slimy and old. He opened it carefully. Sure enough, there was a ring inside of it. He wasn’t able to see enough to discern if it was the one he was searching for, but as it had been the only one in the crypt, he certainly couldn’t allow himself to be picky. Carefully he slipped it in one of his pockets and turned around. He really wasn’t that fond about dropping into the sewers again.

When Garrett entered Bassos den, it was already early in the morning. The city was still dark, but there wasn’t much time until the old sailors came crawling out of their stinky beds and started their days in the harbour. The fence coughed loudly, startling Bonnie who flapped her wings and cawed a few times. Basso shook his head.

“Be a little grateful, you stinky rat.”, he complained in the direction of the bird. There was no bite in his voice. Bonnie cawed again, then flew to the top of a higher up shelf.

“Yeah yeah, just sulk silly bird.”

Garrett chuckled, then leaned casually against Bassos desk. Just a minute ago, he had laid out all of the loot he had found in the crypt. It truly wasn’t much – as much as one could maybe expect in a single-family grave – but at least a few little trinkets have found their way into the thieves pockets. He looked outside through the little window-hole in the wall. The sky was already tinted a dark, rich blue instead of the grey darkness that usually enveloped the city at night. He frowned. Visiting Attano before doing his job certainly wasn’t the best idea he had had in a while.

Additionally, he still wondered what he was supposed to do with the information that the empress was the mans daughter. He felt like it was information he shouldn’t have been told, questioned Attanos intentions. Yes, they somehow got along when he brought back the ring and yes, Garrett  might have proven himself to be trustworthy. But Attano couldn’t possibly have known that this wasn’t a huge risk. Garrett didn’t like how right the man was in his judgement though. He sure valued principles and wanted to avoid economical plunges. Whatever his intentions though, they were dangerous.

On one hand Garrett wanted to prove Corvo wrong, on the other hand, he definitely knew it was a terribly bad idea to disclose this information to Basso or anyone else for that matter. Additionally, telling them the source of his knowledge wasn’t the best idea to disclose either. No matter how he twisted and turned it, there wasn’t really anything he could do. And with those rumours spreading, the man was in great danger.

“I couldn’t find him.”

Basso looked up from his letter that he was setting up, confused, and dipped his pen into some ink. He frowned and Garrett suppressed the second thoughts that bubbled up in his throat.

“Attano…”, he murmured, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His eyes glinted as he switched the leg he was standing on and went to the fire in the brazier. “He wasn’t there, in the hospital.”

Basso nodded thoughtfully, then wrote another sentence in his letter. “Are you certain?”

Garrett rasped out a chuckle. “No.”, he lied, warming his hands. “But I checked all the rooms. Some of them were dark and the sick are…hard to identify. But no, he wasn’t there.”

The fence licked a dirty envelope with his yellow tongue, then closed it, sealing the letter with wax. He looked at Bonnie, then outside, and seemed to decide that right now was not the time to send it. He put it inside his dirty leather coat.

“Not there...”, he murmured, rounded his desk and flicked through a few sheets of paper. “At least it wasn’t a trap.”

Garrett smirked underneath his mask and crossed his arms.

He felt...strange. He was nervous, restless. Bonnie clicked her tiny claws on the wooden post, watching him out of piercing eyes. Garrett let his mind wander.

Attano was resilient and threateningly dangerous. The Burricks he killed were nothing close to what he had ever seen. Attano was deadly, and Garrett…excited?

Basso pulled him out of his thoughts with a sharp scratch of his chair. He had fished some money out of his drawers and held it out towards him. Without hesitation, Garrett snatched the pouch from the mans earthy hands and weighed it in his palm. With a sly grin, he nodded, then immediately slipped out of Basso’s den without goodbye.

The cold air blowed into his face and he pulled the mask over his nose. He needed to slip home fast, as the day started to break already.

The next time he was at the hospital, Attano was sleeping.

It was quiet. The clockwork clattered softly in the dark. Garrett sighed, twisting a dirty coin in his slender fingers. His mind wandered as he watched its dull glint in the warmth of the candles. The absence of the foreign watchdog proved profitable. Garrett smiled. There was a liveliness to this city that he had missed. With a sigh he put the coin down on his desk, letting his eyes wander through his den. He had felt the loss of his hideout, his belongings, the old, springy mattress, that poked his back in his sleep, the clatter of the rain on the watchface. Maybe even the smell of murky dust and nostalgia.

It had been almost two weeks since he went to the hospital the last time. The rumours haven’t quite died down, but they were hushed and tender, quiet. It was probably in the watch's interest to keep his vulnerable status secret. Garrett frowned. He often thought of Attano, of the future. He understood Erin's point. Sometimes it was better to kill a man than to die by his hands. He stood up. The light turned blue and dark. It was almost time to go.

Garrett slipped quietly out of the clock tower. His soft soles crept across the shaky tiles of the blue roofs, quickly scurried from one to the next. He knew what he was doing. His plan was good, if risky. Very risky, he might admit, but if there was even the slightest chance that this could solve his problems in one fell swoop, then he was more than willing to try. He would come to make a suggestion. His heart pounded. Often his gaze darted back, twitched into the shadows that might hide secret observers. What he did was dangerous. Every time he made his way to where the city hid its sick, he became restless.

As Garrett slipped through the window, it instantly became pitch black. Nothing that would worry him, but it still caught him by surprise that it had been brighter outside, as he had assumed. He sat under the windowsill for a few seconds, giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness.

Corvo was awake.

His watchful eyes rested on the small, crouched figure clad in black leather huddled before his window. He didn't know how long it had been since Garrett came here. Sometimes he imagined the thief was slipping through the darkness outside his room, watching him, waiting for an opportunity to end what he had begun. He shuddered.

Garrett slowly stood back up, then tilted his head to the side. He let his gaze slide down to Attano's hand, where a calm, bluish shimmer reminded him that the primal force was flowing through them both. For a split second he allowed himself to feel the barely perceptible vibration in his eye socket. Then he exhaled audibly, pulled the cloth from his nose. A deep, muffled rasp made him jump, his heart falling to the floor, shattering on the worn tiles. Then a voice, rough and sinister, rattling his bones to the core:

“You should leave.”

A cool breeze brushed over his skin. Attano had sat up in his bed. His left arm was tied in a grey, faded sling around his neck. The linen fabric reflected the pale moonlight, lit up his dark skin and hair. For a brief moment neither of them said anything. They looked at each other in silence. The milky curtains billowed gently, and a cool wind brushed Garrett's forehead as he leaned fluidly against the wall and crossed his arms.

„I hope you don’t mind me keeping my distance, Lord Protector.”

Garrett grinned, his eyes alert and warm. Attano huffed out a sour laugh and with his right hand he brushed his hair out of his face.

„I do. Master Thief. In fact, why don’t you come closer, so I can seize you and finally get this job over with?”

Garrett clicked his tongue, gave Attano a quick glance and straightened his back. His fingers twitched.

“Why don’t you come and try?”

Corvo Attano was a dangerous man, deadly, cruel, and unyielding. He had murdered, assassinated, blackmailed, probably tortured and injured thousands of people. But here, in the hospital bed, with the dirty sling around his neck, Garrett found it hard to be afraid. There was no bite to his words.

"You look awful," Garrett murmured mischievously, his thin, grey lips twisted into a condescending smile. The man’s eyes glinted with a fire, that made his heart pound. Attano’s mind was awake, the weakness had left his body. He had gained new strength incredibly quickly. Garrett's bones tingled and his words dripped of sarcasm. “I almost believed you.”

Attano chuckled softly. His hoarse voice scraped over Garretts auricles, and he shuddered. It sounded even more raspy than before; he must have gotten a good dose of that acidic gas. Garrett pressed his lips into a thin line, grimaced, and crossed his arms. Silence fell between them. No awkward silence. A silence in which they both surrendered to their thoughts and the strange familiarity that wanted to spread between them. Garrett frowned, trying to shake off the feeling. He had to remain vigilant and not allow himself to be inattentive.

“Don't look so bad yourself, Garrett.”, Attanos words caught him off guard and he tilted his head to the side. “Fixed your gear?”

Garrett sighed, then pushed himself off the wall and walked over to a nearby chair. He smiled intrigued.

“Is that important?”

Corvo chuckled and shifted his weight in his bed. “Everything is important. The more I know about your armour, the more likely I am to penetrate it.”

Garrett shuddered at the word penetrate and sat down.

“I’d rather you not.”

“Of course, you’d rather-“

“I fixed it with the help of black leather scraps and stitched it together with yarn stolen from Alfonso’s Attire.”

Silence. Then a laugh erupted from Attano's throat. Garrett smiled cunningly, his challenging words making Corvos heart pound. Carefully the thief lifted a fancy glass from the table. His long fingers wrapped around the handle with care. The black leather of his gauntlets bent pliantly, the grey skin of his hands contrasting against them with an almost pearly shine. His nails were brittle and short, the knuckles of his fingers prominent. He had bigger hands than his size suggested. When Corvos eyes wandered to his face, Garrett was looking at him curiously, a thin smile on his sly mouth.

“The streets of this city are alive again,” he murmured breathlessly, his quiet voice vibrating through Corvos bones. He tensed, stuck to Garrett’s lips. “The rats crawl out of hiding and gnaw at the foundation of your efforts.”

Attano smiled wryly, challenge burning under his skin. He didn't know what Garrett was trying to say, but he felt the weight of it unmistakably under his skin. He frowned, alert and full of thought.

“Those rats, Garrett, I observe their every move. They are mine. And you're one of them.”

His words had slipped out of his mouth in a question, a strange invitation, that felt weird but quite right at the same time. Corvo knew what he was saying, he chose those words himself. They fit… and yet…he probably shouldn't have said them. Garrett smiled condescendingly and fluidly let the glass slip in his pocket, his slim body bending forward. He did not avert his eyes.

“I don’t know, Corvo. Am I?”

Corvo mirrored his moves, leaned forward in his bed. The bruises in his arm ached as he shifted, strained his muscles. One of the many scratches at his stomach ripped. He ignored the pain, his heart pounding beneath his aching ribs. His voice was hoarse and dangerous as he spoke words that burnt on his tongue. Again, words he shouldn't say, from a wicked origin.

“You will be.”

For a split second, Garrett didn’t dare move. Then he grinned and leaned back, his whole body dripping of arrogance and vigour.

“You can try.”

Garrett looked into Corvos eyes for many seconds. He had spoken, he had heard what was said. He knew what he was saying. And he knew that strange words that didn't fit had filled the darkness of this room. He turned away from Corvo's face and looked out the window, his mind racing, blood surging through his body, warming his toes. He was nervous. Initially he had wanted to make his proposition, wanted to coax the man to an alliance, but now… something didn’t sit right.

“The roofs are slippery at this time.”

He said, empty words just to shoo away the foreign excitement that hung heavy in his veins. Attano followed his gaze, a thin smile on his lips and an expression in his eyes that was strange but… luring.

“Be careful not to slip up.”

In the end Garrett had left without making his suggestion. The nights dragged on, and it got warmer. Garrett was restless. He nervously played with a strap on his armour while Basso plucked his payment from a drawer. It was raining outside. Fine, gentle droplets drowned in the city's dirty gutters. He sighed. The night was still early. When he finished his theft last night, it was already too bright outside to go to his fence.

“Dirty weather.”, rasped Basso annoyed, following Garretts glance outside. Then he let a few more coins slip into the pouch he was preparing. Garrett wondered where he got all this pouches from, somehow, he always got some on hand. He sighed, then he casually leaned against the old, splintered desk. He didn’t answer.

Corvo still hadn’t returned to his post. Garrett wasn’t worried about the man; he was worried about his hideout. Soon he had to return to the ship, and he didn't like that at all. And he still didn’t make his suggestion. It was time he returned to the hospital. Maybe this time he would be able to propose an alliance. Without getting distracted. In a swift motion he snatched the pouch out of Bassos hands, that offered his well-earned coin. He smiled in half-hearted gratitude, then slipped out of his fences den.

The wood of the balconies and boards cracked as he scurried across them, above the heads of the guards, who could barely hold onto their glimmering torches. It was so dark, an excellent night for doing secret things. He smiled to himself. He had put off going to the hospital again, telling himself that some time would have to pass before he came back. He shuddered, pulling the cloth higher up his nose.

By the time he reached the window, the rain had eased. He realised, Attano followed his figure warily with his eyes as he slipped over the ledge and pulled the wet cloth from his nose. He was aware of his glance, casually strolled through the room, carefully assessing his state. He looked awake, lying under his blanket, his upper body exposed and propped up. His posture was proud and straight. He still had a sling around his arm and a wide bandage around his lower stomach, the white linen dappled with brown, dried blood. He didn't look hostile. His gaze was… curious.

“In a good mood, are we?”, Garrett whispered into the spreading silence, smiling mischievously, and leaning against a pillar. When he looked closer, he realised Corvos skin looked warm and oily, feverish. He tipped his head to the side and crossed his arms. The man sighed and slouched a bit.

“The days are long, Garrett, and the people impatient.”, he murmured, his deep, hoarse voice nestling in Garretts bones like an old friend. He inspected his pale fingers and the worn leather of his gauntlets, understanding him all too well, even though he tried to shove the feeling away.

“The general is a dreadful adversary; Having him as an ally… I’ll spare you the words.”

Attano chuckled, his eyes dropping to the ceiling. For a few moments, his loud breathing was all that could be heard in the room. Garrett looked around. The plant in the corner of the room looked better, someone must have taken care of it.

“I’m tired, Garret.”

Corvos words gently brought him back to the place he was in, and Garrett hummed softly in agreement. The rain had picked up again, softly pattering against the tiles of the roofs. Gracefully, he pushed himself off the pillar, strolled closer and let himself slip into the chair that stood at the mans bedside.

Attano was close, his strong chin was stubbled and dry. He had several scratches littering his cheeks and nose, most of them healed. When he tilted his head, his glassy eyes looked dark in the shadows of the hospital.

“Is it true what they say about his leg?”

Garrett lifted a brow, and it took him a second to understand that the man was asking about general Harlan. He huffed out a chuckle, then leaned back in the chair, plucking a lockpick out of his wrist pockets and twisted it in his fingers.

“It was an accident.”, he finally said, lost in thought. “I was trying to…”, he broke off, realising he was about to tell him of Erin and Orion and everything that had happened. His guilt, his worry, and his responsibility. His heart pounded. “I was trying to save myself and a… dear friend…”

“Erin?”

Hearing her name out of Corvos mouth his heart sank. He immediately tensed up, his gaze snapped up and he looked at him with terror in his eyes. Attano smiled.

“I have seen her posters and tailed her once”, Corvo started to explain. “I lost her fast, she is incredibly skilled… You two are very similar.” When Garretts face didn’t change a bit from looking like carved in stone, he smiled softly. “It was a wild guess.”

Garrett gradually eased up, his shoulders dropped, and he fell back into the chair again. With a long, slender arm he lifted the lockpick against the ceiling. Deep in thought, he observed the smooth metal glinting in the dark.

“She’s complicated… younger…”, he admitted, a defensive feeling bubbling in his stomach. “I taught her many things.”

Corvo chuckled quietly, leaning back in his bed against the headboard. It creaked softly, when his broad shoulders made contact and he gradually trusted it with his weight. He is hairy, Garrett thought, and looked away.

“You have experience, Thief.”, Attano smiled. “I’m glad my daughter will be in good hands.”

Garrett huffed out a laugh.

“So eager to die?”

He sat up again, carefully slipping the lockpick back into his gauntlets. “And another thing: She would only learn the wrong things from me.”

Corvo hummed in thought, then turned his head to look at him. His dark hair slipped over his face.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

A mischievous smirk appeared on Garretts face. He breathed out annoyed, then stood up in a swift motion. He shouldn’t keep chatting away, the night wasn’t getting younger, this topic wasn’t getting easier. He felt his heart tense.

„I have a proposition.”

There was a loud clatter in front of the door and Garrett tensed up, immediately crouched down. A quiet, female voice, muffled through the door, whispered a few sharp words. Corvo frowned confused. When the handle of the door to Attanos room slowly dipped, Garrett bolted.

With huge strides he ran up to the window, his heart racing. He leapt over the windowsill like a cat, landed softly on the wooden boards of the construction work, and fled into the night.

Chapter Text

For once, the night in the foreign city was clear. Even the gloomy moon looked a little brighter today, eerily illuminating the grey, angular face at his bedside. Deep shadows framed Garrett’s features, nestled in his pale scars, his eyes glinted softly in the moonlight. Corvo looked away, watched the yellow curtains billow softly in the wind.

It was a strange time, the night. Sometimes it seemed like the clock was standing still.

It must’ve been around a month now, when he arrived in eternal city, to form alliances with the government, fulfil his duty to rid the city of its crime problem. Or was it longer? He decided against counting the weeks. It was the first mission he had after ensuring his daughter was secure on the throne, protected and save. He didn’t even think it would prove to be that life altering. Without a word he carefully cut a piece of apple and – holding it between knife and thumb – brought it up to his mouth. Deep in thought, he watched Garrett from the corner of his eye.

He was a strange fellow. His skin was so pale, almost grey. He followed the crooked curve of his nose, the scarred tissue above his thin, grey lips down to the rough stubble of his chin. He looked… abrasive. Confused by his thoughts he snapped back to Garrett’s eyes, which caught his side glance in a way he could not place.

The rats crawl out of hiding and gnaw at the foundation of your effort

There were so many things about the man he couldn’t place. Things that he shouldn’t even take into account. He was a thief, a criminal that Corvo needed to dispose of to form alliances, nothing more. And yet...

It wasn’t that easy though, was it?

The thief had entered the hospital through the window again, this time he hadn’t even tried to hide. Somehow Garrett was a little talkative today, had told him, that he had left the keepers who raised him, to start a career as a thief. Corvo couldn’t remember how they got on this topic before his mind had wandered off.

Garrett had willingly chosen the life of an outlaw, he had other options, wasn’t forced to become a criminal, only spoiled himself with the riches of others. He didn’t give money to the poor, didn’t help others in need, wouldn’t have died if he didn’t steal. Garrett was a textbook villain; sly, cunning, selfish and... abrasive.

After a few moments, the thief seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and had started to play with the button of one of his pockets. There was something inside that pocket. Corvo couldn’t see what it was, but he was almost certain it was something valuable.

“I should call the guards…”, he murmured without meaning it, and Garrett, probably aware, huffed out a laugh. He lifted one of his slender legs and put it over the other. Casually he leaned back in the chair next to Corvos bed.

With a sigh, he cut another piece off his apple and then, after rolling the thought in his head for a second, offered it up to his nightly visitor. He was here now, what was the harm? When the thief frowned confused, Corvo already began to regret the gesture, but then Garrett leaned forward, snatched it from his knife and put it in his mouth in one swift movement. It was a little too big and bulged his cheeks as he ate it. It looked funny.

“You’re starting to grow on me, thief.”, he joked while chewing on another apple piece. “I know how it feels to be an outlaw, but to choose this lifestyle myself…” He didn’t finish his sentence, he was sure, Garrett understood what he meant anyways.

“I’ve always liked money”, Garrett whispered, the deep sound of his voice quietly penetrating the darkness. “I’m sure you can agree.”

Corvo smiled, snipped a last piece of apple from the core and then set the tough middle part aside. “You know, I haven’t been rich all my life.”, he paused to chew again, enjoyed the curious looks that Garrett threw his way. “I was a poor kid from the isle. A boy from the streets. I was lucky enough, and good with a sword. That’s why I got a good position at court.”

Garrett let out an amused huff and crossed his arms. “Good with a sword… You mean, you slept your way up?”, he smirked and leaned back into his chair. Corvo’s heart jumped at the accusation, but he didn’t allow his face to show it. He grinned. “I’ve only ever slept with the empress. She had not even-“, he stopped himself, why was he even talking about her right now? It felt wrong.

Deep regrets had filled his dreams, about the revelation he had made, about Emily. He didn’t know Garrett in the slightest. He never intended him to know about her. Not before... he would die. He had catapulted himself into a terrible position through excitement and post-surgery delirium.

Garrett got quiet. He didn’t look flustered, but somehow lost interest in the topic immediately the moment Corvo started talking about sleeping with Jessamine. He shoved away the thoughts about Emily. Maybe Garrett just wasn’t used to the idea of attractive governmental people. Now that Corvo thought about it, there were hardly any people in this city so far, he would use to word attractive on. Garrett was…abrasive. He didn’t allow himself to think further, even though he knew himself way too good for that.

“It doesn’t matter.”, he finally said, when the strange conversation they had about one or two weeks ago tried creeping into his mind again. He inspected his left arm that hung in the sad sling around his neck. He had incredible healing abilities, the outsiders powers dripped in his blood, but still he felt like he was trapped. He had started to walk again as soon as he was allowed to, after the stitches had helped the tender flesh of his belly to grow back together again. It would leave some nasty scars.

Garrett had followed his gaze and clicked his tongue, apparently eager to change topic. “You’re getting better.”, he said, his voice sounding scratchy, as if the words he actually wanted to say were still lingering on his thin lips and he had to speak around them. “Soon, I have to be careful when you offer me an apple slice.”

Corvo laughed and leaned back against the headboard. When he closed his eyes, he carefully let the Outsiders feelers probe the room. Since he had been stuck in the keeper ruins, he learned a great deal about his powers, more than the Outsider had taught him. He had understood that they were not just a God-given force he could use to overcome enemies and obstacles, they were more than a weapon. It was a conscious fluid, and it could sense its equal.

His mind started to wander. When they were at the well, Corvo realised for the first time that there was something different about the thief. He had tried to enter his mind, but Garrett had only looked like he got a bit dizzy and when he manipulated the time, Garrett’s time flowed with his own. He had looked like he didn’t even realise what was happening.

In the moment, Corvo didn’t think. There hadn’t been time to think anyways. The fall happened too quickly. In the end he had just blamed himself for not using his powers correctly. The city was different, he had thought. But in the end it was only Garrett who was different.

He had a lot of time to think in this hospital, but he wasn’t able to find a true answer. When he fought against Dauds men, other people who had been blessed by the Outsider, never did he encounter someone whose powers worked different or withdrew from his influence. The only explanation he could kind of believe in was that the Outsider tamed the force, gave it rules and laws that bound it, but Garrett used its raw power, limitless and wild. Just like himself.

Since then, Corvo had begun to explore this primal energy, how Garrett called it, realised, he could use it in so many different ways, slip around the laws that the outsider meant for it to have. It was a strange sensation. But incredibly useful.

Corvo saw how Garrett frowned and blinked when his eye began to glint softly, barely visible, then closed his eyes again. He was unaware of Corvos power, that gently touched the flow of his force. Carefully, as to not startle him, he had thrown a tiny pebble in his fluid, the ripples now softly licking at Corvos shores. He shivered as they washed further, gently pooling in his belly. With a blink he cut the thin trickle and when the ripples subsided, they left a strange yearning in its wake. He shoved it away. It was a weapon, but it still needed some honing.

“Are you sleeping?”

Garrett’s voice sounded incredulous, drawing a grin to Corvo’s lips. He hummed relaxed, still bathing in the echo of the Outsiders power. Did it still belong to him? He didn’t know.

“I’m resting my eyes, thief.”, he murmured, slowly feeling himself drift off. Languidly, he blinked a few times, then shifted in his bed to deny the sleepiness to overpower him. The weapon definitely needed honing.

Garrett looked strange, agitated. Had he realised what Corvo did just seconds ago? His eyes were deep and thoughtful, a frown on his forehead. Corvos heart pounded. If he was on his tracks, he needed to divert his thoughts onto something else.

“I feel so stuck.”

He said, speaking the first words that came to his mind. Corvo cringed at his honesty, looked out of the window again, but Garrett only chuckled softly. At least he had gotten the thief’s attention. “The healing. It just takes a while.”, Corvo said, trying to dilute the density of his words.

“I didn’t think you would survive at all. Would’ve been surprised if you were hopping over the roofs again already.”

Another thing they’ve never addressed.
Corvo chuckled quietly and looked down, inspecting his hands. The deep black of the Outsiders mark was like a gaping hole in the dark, shaped by a spell that bound him to its laws.

Why did Garrett save him? Since the visit of the thief taker General, he had read the note Garrett had written countless times. Then again, why didn’t he rat him out?
He frowned, only then realising that Garrett was quietly following his gaze, observing.

“What does it mean?”

His voice was only a whisper and it felt so close that Corvos neck tingled. From the corner of his eye he saw that Garrett was bent forward, searching eyes slipping over his hands and the tattoo. Corvo wet his lips, traced the dark ink with his thumb.

“I don’t know.”, he just said, watching his skin move with his touch. “It’s a spell... I think.”

Garrett’s hands twitched in his lap, the movement catching Corvo’s eyes. His long, slender fingers were perfect for thieving, scratching tiny pearls from even tinier caskets. He tore himself away and looked up.
Corvos heart jumped when his eyes locked into Garrett’s curious gaze, so close he could see the faint crows feet carved into his skin. Hesitancy flickered in Garrett’s eyes, his glance stuttered. He looked down at Corvos hands again, seemed tense and agitated. Then his narrow mouth twisted into a wicked, cunning grin, nervous and bold and Corvo didn’t dare move, could only stare as Garrett lifted one of his hands to touch.

The smooth chill of his fingers was gentle, slowly seeping into his skin and muting his tension. He breathed out, realising he had held his breath and braced himself for something he didn’t completely grasp. The shock he somehow expected never came.

“It’s a glyph.”, Garrett whispered and Corvo looked up confused. The thief’s eyes were warm and deep, he spoke so quietly that Corvo had to lean forward to understand his words. Sluggishly Garrett leaned back, leaving an agitated tingle in the back of his hand, where his shy fingers had touched him. He looked unsure, as if he was evaluating his choices.

“It’s... different from the ones I’ve seen. It has similarities with transmutation or battle glyphs, maybe both, maybe...”

He broke off mid-sentence, his deep, calm voice still reverberating in Corvos skull. With a coy, challenging grin on his lips, he leaned back further, crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Your god has bridled you, Corvo.”, he chuckled, the sound hoarse, his pointy tongue wetting his lips. “He put the bit in your mouth and now you jump at his spurs...”

Corvo knew he should be offended, but instead he leaned back in his bed, feeling his own theories confirmed. That Garrett knew of this, even knew what his mark meant was concerning. He had a lot of knowledge that Corvo didn’t even knew existed until not long ago. Maybe Garrett did realise when he tried to use the power as a weapon and just didn’t show. Maybe... he shouldn’t overthink this now.

“I’m not a horse.”

He said calmly, opening his eyes only when he heard the chair scrape quietly over the creaky oak floorboards as Garrett stood up. His slender muscles flexed underneath the layers of black fabric and leather as he stretched. It was getting late.

I have a proposition.

He didn’t ask. Somehow the words got stuck in his throat, whenever he tried to make them count. He frowned, realised, that he enjoyed the timelessness of the night, that for once he could postpone his choices to another day.

Garrett quietly slipped towards the window. It was astonishing how quiet he was able to navigate over the old, creaky wooden floor.

“You’re leaving already? I didn’t even fetch the guards yet.”

Garrett smiled, an arch expression in his eyes.

“I have business to attend to.”

Long after Garrett had slipped out the window, Corvo looked out at the blue city, watching the gentle sway of the curtains in the wind. He needed to get a grip.

He was well aware that he tried to stop time, realised he was thinking about Garrett, not just plotting or getting in his way. He thought of their encounters, his deep voice, his silence and his conversation. Dissatisfied, he buried his face in his hands.

Nothing could take away his duty. He owed it to Jessamine to protect Emily, to smooth her paths. He lived for her, it was she to whom he made himself guilty if he gave in to his will. He didn’t have a choice.

He didn’t have a choice.

~*~

Garrett had said too much.

Again.

Somehow it was too easy to talk to him, too interesting.
Corvo was a strange man. He was quiet, dangerous, but calm and… funny. He had never met someone, who he could talk with in a manner that mattered. He frowned and let a candlestick slip into one of his pockets.

It had been weeks since Corvo was hospitalized, long, strenuous weeks of slow healing and recovery. The man felt stuck. Garrett grinned and snatched another valuable pen from the desk of the little shop he broke into. Of course the man felt stuck, because he was. There he lied in the stinky hospital bed, probably not even able to stand up yet, and the one thing he was brought in to capture, comes for a visit and sits right in front of his nose. He could only hope that the general sent the man home because of his incompetence so that Garrett wouldn’t have to deal with him when he healed up.

It was too easy to find the combination for the safe in the wall. It had been hidden behind a tapestry, but Garrett would’ve never missed something like that. He always knew where simple townsfolk hid their precious valuables.

With another collier, littered with shiny amethysts and silver, he climbed out of a window and onto a nearby wall, slowly making his way towards the town square.

The dark, grey clouds slowly drifted over his head, covering the pearly moon only to let it glimpse through from time to time. Black smoke seeped out of rusty iron chimneys. It was humid, the darkness heavy and dull. Garrett slipped over the grimy tiles of a steep roof and let himself drop onto the cobblestone of a back ally.

“There are rumours, Garrett.”

He didn’t turn around when he heard Erin’s quiet whisper close to his ear. He knew she was tailing him from when he left the shop. Elegantly she stepped out of the shadows and followed him towards the crippled Burrick.

“You’ve checked haven’t you?”

He tried to calm his beating heart, didn’t answer her, just quietly went towards Bassos lair.
The man was feeding Bonnie when they entered, his round, reddened face lighting up when he saw the two and opening his arms in a greeting gesture. Garrett crossed his arms and stayed in the shadows near the entrance. Erin smiled and stepped forward.

“I haven’t seen him.”

He finally answered Erin’s question and the woman turned around after walking towards their fence. Basso furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Who?”

“Corvo Attano.” Answered Erin promptly and slowly, tasting every sound of his name. Garrett didn’t move, only locked eyes with her.

“I haven’t seen him.”

He just repeated and shifted his weight to his right foot to look more relaxed. Basso shook his greasy head and walked over to the mess on his desk.

“You know, I do believe you Garrett, but-“

“The rumours.” Erin interrupted him and inspected her nails. "You said you weren't sure. Maybe you missed something? Maybe..."

She broke off as Basso shuffled through the notes and papers on his desk.

"Here!" He shouted suddenly and pulled out a small, yellowed piece of paper.

"An informant gave me this two days ago."

He handed the note to Erin, who quickly scanned it and then passed it to Garrett. He frowned, reading the smudged, scraggly writing.

Room 4.002, third hand

Erin chuckled, then hit her palm with her fist. “I knew it!”

“Now this information is third hand, we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.” Basso rasped and then coughed loudly. “But I do have a bad feeling about this. Garrett, what do you think?”

The thief sighed, slipped out of the shadows towards the desk, then placed the paper on top of it.

“I’ve checked this story but he wasn’t there.” He answered. It was the truth, back then Attano had still been in intensive care. Now he didn’t know the exact room number the man was in, but it was probably correct. He leaned against the desk. If he dismissed all their concerns now, they would get suspicious.

“However... if I remember correctly the fourth story is reserved for patients from intensive care, it would make sense.” He said, crossing his arms. “When I checked, he might’ve been unrecognisable, and only later got transferred there."

Basso nodded slowly, coughing again and walking around his desk. He sat down heavily on his worn chair until the coughing subsided. Then he cleared his throat again and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

“I’ll check the room.” Said Erin loudly and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Garrett’s heart sank. But then Basso made a dismissing gesture with his hand and shook his head.

“Garrett will go.”

Erin frowned and pursed her lips but before she could say anything the fence spoke up again.

“We don’t know if the information was intentionally passed on to us only now. Maybe it’s a trap, maybe Attano has already regained his strength and-“

“But he wants Garrett.”

Erin’s words jolted through Garrett’s gut, making him shiver. He shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“Erin, he has-“

She didn’t let him finish. “You don’t understand. You will be dead if they get you!”

Garrett sighed, grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her.

“He has powers.”, he didn’t like talking to Erin about the primal. “I know how he operates, I know how his... primal works. Erin, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

She was confused. Apparently she wasn’t told about Corvos powers before. Garrett let go of her and went up to Basso.

“I will go.” He said firmly and the fence nodded thoughtfully.

“Be careful. Don’t take any risks. Take precautions, if you don’t report by three days, I will assume... now, let’s not assume the worst, but...”

He broke off again and Garrett snickered softly.

“We don’t even know if he’s there.”

Basso nodded, then shook his hand as if to shoo them away and Garrett complied. Erin followed him outside. The cold, fresh air caressed the tip of his delicate nose as he left the lair of his fence. It was still dark, but soon the sky would turn blue and the night would disappear. Erin put her hand on his shoulder, but he twisted himself free and slipped into the shadows.

Back in the clocktower, and took some of the dried sticks to make arrows. He carefully heated the wood to make it pliant and work it straight, now a second time after drying the coppices. Carefully he inspected the one he was working on from every angle.

Softly, the silver dust glinted in the milky moonlight that glimpsed through the glass watchface. The fire in the brazier cracked and hissed, making the warm shadows dance across the old wood of the floor.

Erin had tried to tail him again, but he shook her off, he didn’t want to talk to her. He had taught her how to survive, now she needed to stand on her own feet. Slowly he went to the window and carefully peeked outside. The sky was turning a soft blue.

He had allowed his relationship with Corvo to get too far, had made so many mistakes. He shouldn’t have saved him in the first place.

He couldn’t have known that the man would actually survive, was able to withstand the burricks. He also didn’t think the watch would find his note this fast, fast enough so they got to him in time. He just wanted to calm his own conscience, nothing more. And if he didn’t tell Basso that Corvo was in the hospital, it was because he didn’t want them to kill him. After all, Garrett had absolutely no interest in ensuring Corvo’s daughter’s safety.

All lies.

He knew, he was lying to himself. There was no other reason than his own selfishness. Corvo was a good man and Garrett was not. He stole for himself, cared only for himself, he liked it that way, didn’t he? Didn’t he want to be alone, in silence, letting his hands sieve through glinting gold and riches that he didn’t have to share with nobody in the world? didn’t he choose this?

But Corvo was a good man.

He was a man.

And Garrett didn’t know what he had chosen anymore.

Chapter Text

It was time.

Breathing out in an effort to calm himself, Garrett sat down on the moist tiles of the roof. The cold grounded him. The soft wind carried the scent of the salty sea, caressing the exposed skin of his forehead and underneath his eyes.  In front of him the hollow, scraped out windows of the hospital looked at him expectantly. Corvo knew that he was there, Garrett was sure of it.

It was the third night after the conversation in Bassos lair. He had to make his proposition now, couldn’t lie about Corvos presence in the hospital again. It was too risky.

Without giving himself the time to get another surge of adrenaline, he pushed himself off the roof, jumped elegantly over the gap onto the construction work and slipped through the window in a swift motion. The surge came anyways.

Darkness engulfed him.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust. Tensely, he felt Corvo's curious gaze on him.

The man was sitting in bed, upright, proud, his arm resting wearily in a pale sling. With every one of his visits, Corvo looked better, seemed healthier. Garrett grinned slyly, removing the cloth from his nose in one fluid movement. Casually, he leaned against a pillar. But something was different, Corvo looked serious and thoughtful. It could only be his agitation, he was imagining things, searching for a way not to start the conversation they needed to have.

For a long time nobody spoke a word. Then Garrett pushed himself off and wandered across the room. A metal tray stood some distance away near the wall. Garrett memorized his position carefully. If Corvo tried to get to him, because he didn’t like what he said, he would have to bring the tray between them. He looked like he was able to. The window was his safest route. Corvo followed his gaze out into the night onto the wet, blue-black roofs of the city.

„You’re back early.“

A gust of wind blew open the curtains, fresh air whispered into Garrett's face. He cocked his head thoughtfully and grinned.

„Now, don’t say you missed me...”  

Corvo chuckled softly. His dark voice scraped over Garrett’s auricles, and he shuddered.

Silence spread between them. An agitating silence, that made Garrett’s heart pump harder for every second passed. There was no way around it.

„I have a proposition.“

He quietly cawed, his voice betraying him as his breath hitched around the words. Forcibly, he refused to clear his throat. Corvo didn’t react, kept looking at him expectantly, his brown eyes carefully following every movement of Garrett’s lips. He crossed his arms, shoved down his nervousness. The soft leather of his gauntlets rustled quietly.

"This town is peculiar-" Garrett eventually whispered, picking up a small metal container from a dresser to occupy his twitchy fingers. Carefully he turned it over in his fingers. Corvo followed his movements, watching the thief assess the value of the item with interest. His cunning eyes glinted and his thin, pale lips curled into a smug grin. Garrett's eyes flickered back to him, his gaze drilling deep into his skull. Like a heavy lump of sticky tar, Garrett's pupils filled his guts and got stuck in his chest. The thief grinned and Corvo swallowed dryly.

„It is-corrupt and… indecent-“, Garrett’s pointy tongue slipped out of his mouth, wetting his lips. He caught Corvo watching his every move, a nervous tingle settling in his skull. He had to be careful, had to choose his words wisely. The man didn’t avert his eyes.

„Like its residents.“

Corvo’s rough words caught Garrett off guard. He paused, let his gaze linger. The man‘s voice had been so deep, almost a whisper. A whisper that got stuck in Garrett’s head and sat heavy in his ribs. He cocked his head to the side curiously and smirked, felt his voice faltering, just a bit as he affirmed the man’s words, slowly, tasting every one of them by itself. „Hmm…like its residents.“

Almost immediately he averted his eyes, walked back to the pillar, and continued. „The empire cannot obtain power here.“

Corvo sat up in his bed, slowly. A barely perceptible movement that remained hidden under his blanket. Garrett turned his gaze back to him, studying him suspiciously, searching his face for any sign that might give him a clue as to what he was thinking. His skull tingled. Now things were getting dangerous. Any further words could change the mood. Garrett’s muscles twitched.

„Not without…help.“

He didn’t feel the atmosphere shift but fall, a sudden drop that had his heart in his throat in mere seconds. Then he felt the raw surge of power, Corvo’s Primal, how it roared up in his own veins, forced him to draw a surprised breath, stumbling a few steps back.

„Wha-“

He couldn’t finish his sentence. In a split second, Corvo appeared in front of him, grabbed his arm and threw him against the wall. His ears buzzed, his skull vibrated, and a shiver ran through his bones, seeping through his soles and into the cold tiles beneath his feet. Garrett grunted when his back made contact with the stone wall. He immediately ducked, but Corvo beat him to it, leaning forward with all his bulk and pushing him into the wall. Garrett panted, could feel Corvo’s warm breath on his nose, his hair in his face. His mind was racing, his eyes darting from left to right, frantically searching for a way out. Attano leaned forward again, pressing his entire weight onto him. Another wave of his primal power rolled over his skin, making his limbs go weak. Garrett raised his head, meeting determined brown eyes that fixed him, unyielding and strong. He looked at the man confused, narrowing his eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of Corvos mouth, as he tilted his head to the side and exhaled heavily.

„Confusion suits you exceptionally well, master thief.“

His deep voice scraped over Garrett’s ears, vibrated in his ribs where their chests connected. Garrett swallowed and let his eyes wander again. His lips tingled where Corvo’s damp breath let a ghost of something surge into his mouth. His tongue twitched behind his teeth.

„And certainty makes you cocky.“

With a wicked smile he dug his foot into the wall behind him, pushed upwards and head-butted Attano right between his eyebrows. Of course, the royal protector was not defeated by another man’s head, but the surprised groan left Garrett enough time to twist his arm free and slip out of his grip over his left side, where his injuries prohibited him from acting fast enough to seize him again. Attano lunged forward, but Garrett had scurried through the shadows, bringing the rusty metal tray between them that he had kept in mind the whole time. Garrett panted, his heart thrumming wildly in his chest. He grinned breathlessly.

„It‘s rude to interrupt people when they’re still talking.“

Corvo leaned against the wall and watched him. Garrett could see that he wanted to keep his face stern, but he couldn’t quite succeed. He huffed out a laugh.

„Don’t sulk. You couldn’t have thought you can catch me with a broken arm.“

Corvo grunted exhausted, let the fingers of his right hand run through his sweat damp hair.

„I certainly didn’t think, you’d give me more of a headache than I already have.“

Garrett smirked as the man finally gave in and smiled too, tension falling from his shoulders. He looked tired, but alive. His skin was dark and rich, the slight olive tone that told of his Spanish origin blueish in the pale light of the moon. Garrett had been unaware that he apparently was able to leave the bed again, but when he saw him like this, standing proud and tall, it all made sense. Thin lines of age crinkled in the corners of his eyes, almost not visible. But the night loved the shadows, the contrasts, and painted black every crevice it could find.

When the seriousness returned to Corvos features, Garrett almost started to miss them. Many seconds passed where Corvo just looked into Garrett’s eyes with a curiosity in his gaze that had his skin crawl. Garrett lifted an eyebrow and he finally spoke.

„Your proposition can’t solve this, Garrett.“

He almost flinched when Corvo said his name, swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. Corvo smiled softly, maybe even apologetically, then he averted his eyes and slowly walked over to the window. There was no danger in him anymore, the atmosphere had shifted again. The blueish light dripped from Corvo’s nose, heavy shadows framing his face. A sudden chill crept over Garrett’s lips. Many seconds passed before Attano spoke again, letting his gaze fade into the distance.

„This is too important.“ He eventually said and Garrett’s eyes dropped to the floor. It was old and broken, a pale shadow of dust settling on the tiles like a thin veil of disappointment. „Maybe the empire could control this city with your help but I was summoned specifically to rid it of thieves, rid it of you. It’s too important.“

Garrett swallowed around nothing, willed his voice to be firm. „Control is always a better deal than alliance, don’t you think?“ Corvo chuckled softly and looked at him. His eyes were warm, but hard.

„I agree, but I... I have no say in this.“

It was final.

Garrett didn’t answer. He knew Corvo was right. He had already feared that his capture was a major concern, had suspected it even. He breathed in, then he stepped out from behind the tray and slowly, carefully came closer. Corvo didn’t avert his eyes from the grey rooftops, his eyes following the lazy smoke seeping out of grimy chimneys. It started to rain.

„Don’t get too close.“

Garrett huffed out a laugh and propped up his elbows on the windowsill right next to him. There was no bite in Corvos words, the danger had passed. He had calmed down after he finally made his proposition, tension falling from his limbs now, that the words were finally out. He felt good. Slowly he looked up to Corvo next to him. His sharp jaw was stubbled and rough, warm eyes following the heavy clouds in the distance. The man was broad and ragged, but his rough hands were gentle and the edges of his words soft and warm. Somehow it made Garrett wonder...

Corvo sighed quietly, then slowly peeled his eyes from the city, when he felt Garrett’s gaze on him. Confused he looked down. Garrett’s eyes were glinting with vigilance and his sly mouth twitched with cunning words he seemingly didn’t allow to slip past his tongue. Corvo frowned, lifted an eyebrow but when Garrett didn’t speak he let his gaze drift back to the shimmering roofs and empty streets of Stonemarket.

They stood next to each other in silence for many minutes, Corvo looking out into the night and Garrett with his back to the window, leaning against the sill. Deep in thought, he listened to Corvo’s breathing. It was even and calm, quiet. His lungs had been damaged so badly. The milky curtains billowed softly when a cool breeze tickled the back of his head. And when he was deep in his thoughts, letting his head fall back, looking at the dark rotten wood of the window frame above him, he realised something that sat so heavy in his ribs that let his breath get stuck in his lungs and his blood run cold.

Eventually, one of them had to die.

He didn’t move for many seconds, just looked at the ceiling and let his mind go blank. Then he shoved the thought away, dropped his head back and shifted his weight. The shuffling made Corvo tear away his eyes from the city, looking over his shoulder, down to the small frame of the man next to him.

Garrett blinked; the left corner of his mouth twitched. He smirked and Corvo furrowed his brow in confusion. But something stirred inside him, when he looked at the sharp bow of his nose, his rough chin and the crinkled skin underneath his left eye socket, the soft, mischievous glint in his left pupil, like an amber cat’s eye reflecting moonlight in the dark. A shudder crawled down his spine when the thief suddenly dipped closer, when he lifted his body in a smooth motion and jumped up on the sill right before him, letting his legs dangle from the edge. He was so small.

His gear was patched up roughly, scratches and stitches covering the soft, pitch-black leather that stretched over his chest. The bow on his back shifted when he moved, when he blended in with the shadows of the night. Corvo furrowed his brow and looked him dead in the eyes.

„You’re reckless.“

He whispered dangerously, stepped forward and grabbed Garrett’s arm in a surprisingly hesitant second attempt to seize him. Garrett didn’t react, didn’t even flinch. Just held his gaze as if he thought Corvo had no way to pull through with it. And maybe he was right. When Garrett leaned forward and grabbed Corvos injured arm in return, he hissed in pain, lifted his chin, and tightened his grip. Sweat started to bead at Corvos forehead when Garrett leaned in, got so close to his ear that he felt the thief’s warm breath dripping down his cheek, could smell the leather and damp wool at his neck. His heart stumbled.

„You’ll never catch me.“ He whispered, pressing his fingertips into the tender flesh of Corvos arm, the soft pain startling him out of his haze. Garrett pursed his lips, slowly tasting every one of his words. „You won’t survive it.“

Corvo chuckled bitterly, crowded even closer to whisper in Garrett’s ear in return, not wanting to back down. „I already have.“

„Because I let you.“

Corvo hummed, then decided to give in, be weak, just for once. Firmly he took another step forward, forced Garrett’s legs to drop to either sides of his hips. The thief’s breath hitched, made a hot rush of triumph surge through Corvo’s veins. He felt Garrett’s heartbeat, warm and fast.

„And now I‘ll let you.“

He rasped breathlessly, then paused. For a second there was complete silence. Corvo closed his eyes, feeling the soft hum from Garrett’s primal pulse in his skull.

„Don’t come back… Garrett.“, he breathed, felt Garrett‘s body tense at the sound of his name. „You should have let me die when you had the chance.“

There was silence for a second.

„I know.“

With that Garrett effortlessly twisted his arm free of Corvo’s grip that wasn’t meant to restrain, let himself fall backwards and drop to the streets. Corvo leaned out of the window, there was a sound of metal scraping over stone and when he looked down Garrett was gone and the city went quiet.

Chapter Text

The rain was cleansing.

It was soft, merely tickling the skin of Garrett’s brows than forcefully piercing it. He slipped over the roofs aimlessly for many minutes before he decided he was far away enough to slow down. And when the rain got heavier and started to seep through his scarf he finally took cover underneath a wooden balcony. He sat down.

The confusion hit without being a surprise. Garrett welcomed it, let it run its course. His realization had been deafening. He needed to think. Carefully he looked around. The night was still early, he could spare a few minutes.

You should have let me die when you had the chance

He should’ve.

But he didn’t. And there wasn’t really anything he could do about it now. Garrett was a thief not a murderer. He didn’t kill the thief taker general and he won’t kill Corvo if he could help it. Unfortunately that meant that he would have to die himself, which – of course – was out of the question. There was no way the general would let him live, if he got hold of him. He wondered, if Corvo was aware of it, if he knew the General as well as he did.

Garrett frowned.

When he wrote the note, he couldn’t have known that they’d find him in time.

A quiet noise behind him startled him out of his thoughts. Suspiciously his eyes darted back, but there was just a cat, dirty and wet, staring him down in defence. He relaxed again, then he quickly jumped to his feet and carried on with his night.

Garrett had killed people before.

He tried not to think about it, but there was no denying it. He had killed before. But the situations had been different. He had been younger, the threat had been greater… there had been no way around it. This time was different, he had more experience, he knew what he was doing.

Did he?

His doubt was rudely interrupted by the heavy steps of a guardsman, who somehow had managed to sneak up on him. Quickly, he scurried into the next shadow. Heart beating, his eyes twitched through the darkness. The man had startled him so badly that he had to calm his nerves and wondered, how he couldn’t have heard him come closer. Unaware of the thief sitting less than a metre away behind a grate, the guard just yawned and carried on with his night.

Don’t get too close…

A soft breeze hit his nose from behind the house, and he felt his muscles relax, the fresh air filling his nose and lungs, grounding him. The cold stone of the rough cobble beneath his feet crept into his legs and suddenly they felt terribly heavy and tired. He was exhausted, he had grown old. With a silent sigh he sat down on the floor.

Don’t get too close…

How could he not? There was no way, no universe, where he and Corvo wouldn't inevitably collide. They were like the two opposite sides of one and the same coin. They couldn’t escape each other. Corvo was a strange man, intimidating, but so interestingly peaceful. It was hard to look into his head. Garrett knew he shouldn’t even try, but he had to, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to survive. This was a harsh world and Corvo was naïve to think he could keep Garrett away from him with four simple words. He smiled. He knew what he was doing.

~*~

Garrett did not know what he was doing.

And he knew that he was just searching for excuses, running away from a problem he didn’t want to address. There was no point in addressing it anyways. It wouldn’t change anything, would just complicate it more.  

The air felt crisp and raw. The warm southern winds stinking of fish and mould crawled into his nose. Spring was coming. And it was coming rapidly. In this city, changes were always drastic and sudden. That applied to the seasons as well. Garrett was used to it. Fluidly he slipped onto the wet, slimy docks. It wasn’t too early yet, he still had time, and even if he didn’t feel like it, he could use it. Carefully, avoiding the guards, he sneaked towards the sirens rest.

Change came sudden and fast. This time, it would be the same. One day would decide everything. Maybe it wasn’t even a day, maybe it was just a few hours that would draw out his fate. Would he dangle from a rope? Would he kill Corvo in cold blood? Would they die together trying to protect what they cared about the most? What did Garrett care about the most?

He didn’t get to finish his thought. When he was about to enter the sirens rest, the door opened and his fence almost bumped into him. He smiled widely, exposing his yellow, broken teeth and spread his arms as a greeting.

“Garrett, you’re late!” He cawed, his breath smelling of alcohol and whatever he had for dinner. Garrett held his breath and Basso laughed raspily. “Everyone’s inside already! Come on, we are just waiting for you.”  

He frowned confused at the word everyone and followed him inside warily. The pub was quieter than usual, it wasn’t early enough yet for it to be busy. He sighed when they rounded the corner and walked up to a booth with four people talking with each other. Hushed voices and fierce glances grazed him in passing. He looked at Erin, who whispered something in the direction of the broad man who Garrett once met with Hagen. She was agitated, hot-headed. A young, talented woman with aggressive dreams and willpower, able to change the world, if she put her head into it. There was someone he had never seen before, a man with dirty blonde hair and narrow, cunning eyes. His posture was slumped as if the crouched appearance was his default comfort. And maybe it was. Somehow it warmed his heart in a way he wasn’t prepared for. It was people like him, thieves, robbers, survivors. Men and women, who weren’t given any choices and decided to make their own.

As he came closer, the voices grew quieter. Suspicious eyes sized him up, thinking. There was worry in their gaze, but also determination. Something was happening that he wasn’t part of. Not yet anyways. He knew this was about Corvo – about Attano – it had always been about him. Nothing had happened since the rumours about his hospitalization. Secrets were in the air, simmering slowly and steadily. Garrett wanted to speak, but his tongue remained still. Erin looked him in the eyes and leaned back in her seat. They all looked at him, but her look was the worst. He felt guilty as he returned her gaze, so he looked away, feigning calmness, as he grabbed a chair and slowly sat down.

"He must be there."

Erin finally said. Silence followed her words. The bar stank of sweat, beer and regret. The old wood of the table seemed to get closer the longer he stared at it. Why had he lied then?

"He must."

Garrett finally said. His voice was firm, calm, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. The table fell silent again. Garrett had no reason to keep quiet about Attano's whereabouts any longer. He shouldn't have had a reason to do so from the beginning. Heck, he didn't even know if he had ever had one. Garrett frowned, lost in his thoughts and Hagen carefully slid forward onto the table. "He must be weak..." he whispered, and Garrett saw the big giant next to him nodding in agreement. And he was right.

“Do not underestimate him.” He said anyways, quietly, but loud enough to be heard. Erin frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “But do we? If there’s ever a chance it would be now, right?” The giant man with the black hair nodded again but this time he wasn’t the only one. The blonde man and Basso also nodded, if hesitantly. Only Hagens eyes were fixed on him and it annoyed Garrett terribly.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, no?”,  Basso coughed eventually and then cleared his throat. “Garrett, you are the only one who got close to him without ending up in Cragscleft. Maybe you can share some of your insights, no?”

Garrett sighed deeply, knowing there wasn’t a way out of the conversation. “He’s tall and very active…”, he started hesitantly, immediately realising this wasn’t going to cut it. “Which means he is not only heavy but also strong.” He paused and when  he looked into the eyes of the participants of their little meeting, he thought why of all dangers this was the first one that came to his mind. He paused, thinking.

“Corvo has some neat little tricks, that are beyond a normal mortals ability…”, he looked over to Erin who evaded his glance. “I don’t know, what exactly it is,” he lied: “but I have experienced it myself. He can teleport over short distances for example, his hearing and eyesight are exceptional, he-“

“If his abilities are so great, how did you manage to escape?”

The voice of the blonde man was quiet and comfortable to the ear. It was the first time he had said something. Basso already knew part of the story, and he thought that he had probably already told them.

“When I tried to escape, he managed to get us trapped in some old catacombs underneath this city. Corvo Attano was already injured and we accidentally walked into the biggest Burrick colony that I’ve ever seen. I managed to get out, while they chased Attano into a small tunnel. Certain death, if you ask me…”

“But he survived…” Hagen leaned back into his seat and seemed to lose himself in his thought. Silence spread between them and Garrett let it simmer for a bit.

“If he survived, I think you understand now that Attano is a force to be reckoned with and not to be taken-”

“But if he survived it also means he must be terribly injured!” Erin had leaned forward onto the table, a fire in her eyes. The others were eyeing her curiously. “It would also explain why nobody is talking about him: To protect him! He is weak, and they know it!”

The giant nodded again, and Garrett pursed his lips. That was true, Corvo had almost died. If it hadn’t been for him, he would’ve not survived at all. Garrett shouldn’t have written it. And Corvo should’ve ratted him out as soon as he learned of the note, that he hadn’t written himself. But none of them had let anyone in on their little secret.

“Erin, it has been weeks since he…must’ve been hospitalized. Plenty of time to heal.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“And? What is your plan? Sitting back and waiting for him to lock us all up?”

“No, I don’t think –“

“Then what do you think really?”

Garrett didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, and silence spread between them again. She was right again. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He didn’t want to think about it. There had to be another way.

“Hagen, you told me that Attano had been getting on the generals bad side a few times already, that he had locked up criminals who were paying their black tax. Maybe if we wait –“

“You always want to wait!”, Erin pouted and rolled her eyes, before Hagen could even answer himself. Garrett sighed.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No, you don’t want to hurt him!” she spat and Garretts heart skipped a beat. “You never kill, you always take them down by making them unconscious. I get it, you’re a thief, not a murderer, blabla. But sometimes you just need to save yourself, Garrett! If you had killed the general back then, we wouldn’t even be in this situation!”

He didn’t answer, there wasn’t anything he could’ve said anyways. Basso coughed to hide his discomfort with their argument, but everyone around this table knew she was right. Even Garrett knew she was right. He had killed people before. But now he was older, and every kill seemed unnecessary.

“I kill him.”, Erin had crossed her arms again and Garretts thoughts came to a halt. “You don’t even have to worry about it, Garrett. I’ll kill him and your conscience stays clean or whatever it is you’re afraid of.” She smiled, while he looked at her in disbelief.

“I have a plan.”

-*-

There was nothing he could have done. A new generation of thieves had emerged, and they were fearless, daring and full of drive. Erins plan was good. Hagen had a contact at the hospital who would confirm whether and where Corvo Attano was in hiding. He would then arrange a large-scale withdrawal of guards within the watchforce on the day of the execution the best he could. He was the backbone of the operation. Then Thomas, Garrett, and the big guy whose name Garrett could never remember would take out the rest of the guards and hospital staff. They had to make sure there was no one left in the house who could react to Attanos orders. Eventually they would all get through to him, with Garrett as backup, as he knew his abilities best and could react to changes. Then Erin would kill him with a targeted surprise attack, and they would flee the scene. Flawless, really.

It was a cold night. Garrett was sitting on a roof in Stonemarket and saw from a distance the dark windows of the hospital staring into space like small black dots from the grey facade.

The quiet click of a tile behind him made him sit up and listen. It started to drizzle quietly, and Erin came up next to him. They remained in silence for a while, looking down at the roofs and houses of the city as they merged into each other in their shadows, blue on blue.

"The others are ready."

She eventually said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, both in gratitude for his support and in comfort, as she knew his principles. He did not answer, but when she walked away he followed her silently. Garrett knew he had no choice. He had known it from the beginning. Erin, Basso, his life as it was, they were not possible as long as Corvo Attano was after him. Corvo had said it himself; allegiance was out of the question. It was too important. He had tried what he could, now he had to do what was left. He had to protect what he cared about the most. What did he care about the most?

The big giant man had brought some sort of explosive that he intended to fire somewhere outside the building, so that the guards were forced to investigate. They scurried quietly through the streets. Garrett and Erin over the rooftops, Thomas and the giant through the winding alleys. When they arrived in front of the hospital, Erin and Garrett sat down on the scaffolding of the construction work and waited.

“Erin”, he said quietly, and she hummed questioningly. “Please be careful.”

Garrett was surprisingly calm. He knew they had a chance, even if it was slim, and that he would cover Erin's back as best he could. Still, he had a lump in his throat. A slight giggle from Erin tore him out of his thoughts. She sighed. "It almost feels like before..." she breathed into the night, and Garrett forced a thin smile.

“Before… as in you used to listen to me when I said it was too dangerous?”

She chuckled softly and slapped his shoulder. “Exactly.”

A loud bang to their left interrupted the silence of the night and Garrett's heart leapt in his chest. The moment had come. He stopped Erin from rushing straight to the hospital, giving the guards time to run down and investigate the explosion. Loud shouts and orders echoed through the hospital corridors. Only when they slowly died down did Garrett and Erin venture into the building. Garrett welcomed the silence of the mission that enveloped them as soon as they stepped onto the cold tiles. It had become very quiet in the rooms and hallways. The explosion had been loud, Corvo had certainly heard it and now knew that something was afoot. He probably also knew that it had something to do with him and was preparing himself. He would die, tonight. This time Garrett could not save him. Or was Garrett the one who had to die today? Probably not, at least not today, but if Corvo caught Erin or him, then they would have reached the end of their journey. The General would make sure of that.

He carefully let a guard sink into the realm of dreams with a targeted blow, while Erin locked some nurses in the next room, who had been hiding there. The closer they got to Corvo's room, the more guards they encountered. The plan worked. Part of the guard went to investigate the explosion, the other part retreated here to protect Corvo. Soon they would face each other again. Thomas and the giant were probably already gone after neutralizing the guards. They had to hurry. His heart was pounding.

Erin hid next to the door, when Garrett opened it and peered inside. Corvo was standing in front of the window, facing the door, his warm, piercing eyes fixed on him as soon as he had looked inside. Shame filled his heart, but he shoved it to the side. Corvo was tense, his arm still in the sling, but his body erect and proud. His broad stature made Garrett slump a little as he cautiously entered the room. He didn't avoid Corvo's gaze, even though he wanted to. There was an understanding in his eyes, and yet there was something else that Garrett couldn't quite place.

Change in this city came quickly and abruptly.

"What are you doing here, thief?"

Garrett's blood ran cold. Then it all happened very quickly.

Suddenly Erin shot out of the darkness without Garrett being able to warn her. Corvo had known she was here. He would have called him by name if he hadn't. A tremor shot through his bones as Corvo's hand began to glow. He watched in horror as Erin came to a stop in mid-air, her face twisted in a mixture of fear and determination. The room around him turned grey and he flinched, darting through the shadows out of reach. Corvo blinked, suddenly appearing in front of the door, shutting it. Then the noise in Garrett's ears subsided and Erin ended her leap into the void.

"What...?!"

Corvo's eyes followed Garrett like a hawk, then his head throbbed, his skull vibrated and his whole skin tingled as if on fire. The energy broke off and Corvo turned to Erin. Suddenly her eyes flickered, and a humming sound ran through Garrett's flesh.

"Come."

Corvo ordered her, and like a lifeless, choiceless body she began to move. Garrett exhaled sharply, frowned and then reacted fast as lightning. He was with her in a fraction of a second, grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back. Corvo chuckled, then Garretts heart leapt in his chest and his primal roared up in his body as Erin – or Corvo – shoved him away. His head started to swim, and he stumbled.

“Come on girl, you have to try harder than this.”

The smug look on his face didn’t reach his eyes. Garrett quickly regained his footing, but he was too late. Erin had taken the bait, her face twisted in anger. She clutched her dagger tightly, then sprinted, jumped and Garrett's ears roared. The room was saturated with his primal power, Garrett's eye flickered. "Erin..."

The world around him turned grey.

He couldn't stop it. This power was unknown to him. He had never seen it. From far away, a voice told him that it was no surprise that he didn't know it. But he couldn’t discern why. The ringing in his head was too loud. For Erin, time stood still. Energy pooled below his navel, like a thread, connected to Corvo, he knew he would be the target. He quickly darted through the shadows, only narrowly escaping Corvo's grasp. But the ringing didn't stop. Only now did he realize his mistake.

He was too far away. In just an instant, Corvo had disappeared in a flash of blue light.

And then it happened.

The grey of the room retreated into the shadows; Erin landed. And Corvo seized her by the arms.

He had won.

She struggled only for a few seconds. Then she became quiet, her eyes twitching, panicking, searching for a way out.

“Why did you come here?”

Corvo said eventually, taking to Erin, but Garrett knew his words were meant for him. Why did you come back, Garrett.

“Leave her.”

He said. This is between you and me. Garrett looked at Erin. He wouldn’t allow Corvo to take her to slaughter. Calmly he tried to tell her with his eyes that everything would be okay. “Please.”

Silence spread between them. Corvo was now looking at him. Garret could now see the sadness in his eyes, his desperation and his heart clenched.

“I am your main target, right? So let me be your captive.”

Corvo didn't move, his gaze still held him, questioning, curious. There was so much that was unmasked in their silent conversation that Garrett frowned. It had gone too far. His head was still swimming and his skull was buzzing. Or was it again? His gaze flickered quietly to Corvo's hand, which was enveloped in a faint blue light and his heart started pounding. Slowly, he raised his eyes and very carefully, undecidedly, he approached. He knew what it would mean if Corvo arrested him.

He looked at Erin, her big, dark eyes panicked and full of fear.

"Garrett, stay back!"

He didn't listen to her. She started to thrash again, resisted, but in vain. "Let go of me!" she croaked in desperation. As he stood in front of them, he looked her in the eyes and let a mischievous smile scurry over his lips. He knew Erin. They had roamed the streets together for a long time, knew how she would interpret his gesture. The smile was a lie, he didn't know what he was doing. But trust filled him, and he wanted her to trust too. Somehow he would get out of here.

In a flash, Corvo let go of Erin's arm, so fast that neither he nor she could react, and pushed her away. Then he blinked, grabbed Garretts arm, and yanked him close to his body. Garrett let out a surprised breath as Corvo’s primal flooded his senses. Then he nodded to Erin, almost in a haze, and with an uncertain look she scurried back out the window. He knew she would give him until tomorrow evening. Then she would try to save him. That’s how they did it back then.

Slowly it became quiet, and the room was fading into a dark blue again, a fresh breeze blowing the milky curtains. A large grandfather clock that Garrett had never really noticed before, ticked quietly, reminding him that time was passing.

“Why did you come back?” Corvo whispered, his broad chest pressing into his back, letting his primal slowly but steadily curse through Garretts veins. He blinked slowly, questioning how he controlled the force in such a skilled way and ultimately losing the thought again right away. A shiver ran down his spine, pooling in his lap, not from the cold, but Corvo's damp breath on his neck. He tried to shake the feeling. He wriggled his wrists, tried to snake his arms free of the man’s grip, but Corvo’s hands just clasped around them stronger until he sucked in a sharp breath from the pain. “Oh nothing… I missed your approachable nature.”

Corvo huffed, his amusement as tight as his grip. "To the wall," he murmured, and his coarse voice seeped into Garretts bones, his primal so powerful that it made his nerves swim. His forearms ached, as Corvo slowly but relentlessly pushed him towards the wall. “Don’t you think the primal is a bit much?” Garrett asked, wondering why his speech didn’t slur, as drunk was the best word he could find to describe its effects. Corvo didn’t answer, he only chuckled under his breath. Garrett had to calm down, had to get the situation under control. But Corvo was strong, and Garrett didn’t see himself breaking his grip any time soon. And he had to hurry, there would be guards coming eventually. The cold of the tiles tore him from his thoughts as Corvo pressed his body against the wall, surprisingly gentle against his cheek. He welcomed the sensation, as it helped to clear his head a little. Somehow Corvo seemed completely unaffected by the force, not like he was in the cave weeks ago. He had turned it into a weapon. Garrett had been aware of it, had known he was experimenting. Why didnt he think of it sooner? He wriggled again, tried to crouch down and escape through the man’s injured arm, as he had done before. It didn’t work, and a small sound stumbled from his lips as Corvo's grip tightened, and he probably realised this wasn’t the easiest way to contain him. "Turn around." He whispered, and this time Garrett did as he was told.

When he looked in Corvo's eyes, his heart jumped. There was curiosity in the warm brown of his glance, he looked stern, dazed. If he had previously believed that the man was withstanding the primal force effortlessly, he now realized that his eyes were glistening at least with a concerning bit of effort. He wondered, if it could help his case, blinking slowly. A small grin tugged at the corners of Garrett's mouth. What if he...

"Don't get too close… Corvo."

It was a classic case of speak first, think later. When Garrett had whispered his name, the man looked caught, his grip tightened. And when he didn't take his eyes off him, full of determination, Garrett slowly started to realise what was going on. His heart pounded, as the smile fell from his lips. He didn't break eye contact, his skull quietly buzzing around his brain. He knew, if he continued too look into the mans eyes, Corvo would...but would he really...? Would he...?  

Then Corvo shifted his weight forward, seized him with his whole weight. Their hips connected and Garretts thoughts stumbled over themselves and got lost in the sudden surge of adrenaline in his chest. A strand of Corvo's hair loosened and ghosted over Garretts cheek, made him realise how close they already were. His mouth went dry. Without looking away, he froze, heart picking up pace, suddenly pounding hard against his ribs. His breath hitched and Corvo’s lip twitched and when he tried to chase the movement, he had already lost himself in the deep, glistening black of Corvo’s eyes.

And then suddenly Corvo dipped down, and he closed his eyes, and he kissed him. And Garrett may have known what was going to happen, but his heart jumped out of his ribcage as if it had been crushed under the weight of his chest. Hesitantly, Garrett caught Corvo’s mouth with his, surprised himself. His lips were firm and warm and Garretts head felt fuzzy, as Corvo slowly, gently moved his mouth against his. The blue shimmer of the primal seeped through his closed eyelids, made them flutter. Then Corvo drew back, eyes halfway closed, looking at him and Garretts heart stumbled. His mouth went dry, heart throbbing, while the seconds stretched. Corvos primal was panicking softly underneath his skin, he could feel it as if it was his own. And then finally, Garrett couldn't take his gaze anymore, his hazy eyes twitching down to Corvos lips, a soft hint of impatience and anticipation mixing in his chest. And that was really all Corvo needed. He closed his eyes, let go of a charged breath and then kissed him again, this time firm and confident. Garretts heart squeezed, he didn't just wait this time but met him halfway, adrenaline pumping in his veins as Corvo exhaled heavily, the sound vibrating through Garretts jittery bones as their lips met. His head began to swim. Slowly he mirrored his movements, growing restless and impatient with his tenderness. There was a sudden need boiling in his nerves that he didn’t even know existed, painfully dripping pure lust into his nerves that had his breath hitch in surprise. He gasped, opened his mouth, Corvo’s tongue melting into his own tasting of saliva and hunger. Without meeting resistance, Garrett freed his hands, buried them deep in Corvo’s hair in a desperate attempt to pull him closer still. And Corvo moaned, grabbing his waist, hesitantly starting to grind his hips against him, his mouth and body finding a rhythm that had Garrett experiencing a completely different kind of greed, a hopeless, raw desire, that he hadn't expected. 

He panted, his tight leather armour suddenly painful, his trembling fingers searching for skin and heart and bones, anything he could hold onto. And Corvo embraced him, his primal force raging, chest against chest, pounding hearts merging to one and Garrett couldn’t help but join into his force, rattling their bones to the core. His eye lit up, skin tingling and a ringing in his ear, then he blinked, and the thread snapped. His back lost its support, and he sank into the soft spring mattress of the hospital bed. Corvo grunted surprised, his heavy, aroused body pinning him down, their hands intertwining, embracing each other in prayer. He moaned breathlessly, their hips grinding into each other, as Corvo dragged his hungry tongue across his starving lips. He panted, soul pleading for something he couldn’t grasp.

Suddenly heavy footsteps trampled through the hallway. Garretts heart leaped out of his chest and scattered onto the floor. And Corvo froze, his startled, hesitant eyes searching the room. Corvo’s heavy breath ghosted over his skin. Garrett yearned for it, his head swimming, the reality of his capture only slowly seeping back into his primal infused mind. He twitched, suddenly coming back to life as Corvo looked to the door and frowned. In an urge of pure instinct, Garrett pushed himself off the bed and Corvo sat up hastily, his eyes darting to the door and then back to Garrett, who was still panting, standing lost inside the room, hesitant.

“Fuck. Leave already! I can – I can’t –“, he didn’t finish his sentence, but got up, the voices of the guardsmen now unbearably close to the door of the hospital room. Corvo’s deep, brown eyes seeped into Garretts own, his damp lips and chafed chin only a ghost of the desperation that had possessed him only mere seconds ago. Fear surged into Garretts limbs, and he came to life. And Corvo smiled, the gesture being the last hint Garrett needed to hurry out into the night, the taste of Corvo’s tongue still lingering deep in his mouth.

Chapter Text

Everything was loud. Garrett’s head was spinning, heart racing, his legs were trembling with adrenaline and something entirely else that he didn’t allow his thoughts to concentrate on. He was breathing hard as he scurried over the roofs of the sleeping city.  It was raining heavily, the cold water grounding him, but it wasn’t able to wash away the touch that lingered underneath his skin. A warm shudder crawled over his spine.

How he eventually ended up reaching his hideout without getting seen, or worse – caught – he didn’t even completely understand himself. He was panting after racing through the city, running away from his choices. He quickly peeled off his soaked clothes and changed into rough linen. The cold, dry wooden floor pressed firmly into his soles, his skin reacting to every texture. He closed his eyes, then immediately laid down in his blankets.

Gently the rain pattered against the watchface of the clocktower, allowing him to breathe deeply the smell of rust and damp wool. Slowly the buzzing in his head subsided and the tension in his body eased. He breathed out and calmed down.

They had crossed a line that could not be taken back. Garrett frowned and cursed his impulsiveness. In a weak moment he had tossed out the window everything that was sacred. They had come to kill this man for heavens sake and instead Garrett had jumped his bones the second Erin had left them. He suppressed the urge to curse under his breath. It had been the primal.

Corvo’s smile haunted him. As soon as he closed his eyelids, he looked into his serious brown eyes all over again, followed his broad furrowed brow, traced the deep lines of his stern, stubbled cheeks down to his mouth and tasted his tongue.

Corvo was not his first kiss, and yet he found himself completely shaken up by the mere thought of it. He had not considered anyone in this way for a long time, let alone a man. He wasn’t even aware that he could consider men. Yes, there had been some tension between them for a while, and yes, to some extent he had been aware of it, even though he didn’t let the thought form. They were enemies after all. It was exciting. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. He might have played with the attention Corvo had given him, had basked in his interest, but it truly surprised him how easy it had been to give in.

He needed to rest. But how could he? Garrett sighed, then stared at the ceiling for a long time. He had to move out again, it wasn’t safe here anymore. Tomorrow he would say goodbye to the clocktower. Corvo knew he had been here.

He pursed his lips as the painting forced itself into his thoughts again. They shared too many secrets, it was dangerous. Garrett should’ve kept his distance from the start, should’ve never talked to Corvo as much as he did. It all started with the cave, that damned ruins. He should’ve just tried to find a way out on his own.

But there was nothing he could do now, was there? There was no point in regret.

With the afternoon came calm. Garrett had slept restlessly, had dreamed. His chin felt a little rough, and his condition a little raw, but he was mostly back in control of his senses. He had composed himself and had been busy replenishing his equipment. After that, with the dark, he had moved back into Corvo’s ship. Now, a completely different unease dwelled in this hideout. Garrett felt close to Corvo in a way that was entirely unwelcome.

Carefully he stitched up some of his leatherwork next to a small flickering candle. He was thinking about what he would tell the others, how he had managed to escape again without his stories becoming more and more unbelievable. Before he could make up his mind, someone knocked at the latch of the ship, and Garrett knew it just had to be Erin. He was glad he had reached the ship a few hours early.

As she opened the trapdoor and slowly crawled down the ladder steps, Garrett wondered how he could look her in the eyes. But in the end she took that decision from him. When she peeked around the corner, her look of surprise at seeing him overcame his uncertainty. She smiled weakly, relieved. Before he could say anything, she revealed a bottle of wine she had brought in with her and smiled with a shrug.

"I just knew you would be here."

He snorted in amusement, then peeled himself out of his blankets and came towards her. He hugged her tightly and she froze for a second before returning the gesture and laughing shyly.

"Hey, I'm glad you're okay too."

Garrett was relieved to hear that everyone had escaped safely, and no one was seriously hurt. Thomas had taken a nasty hit, but he was fine now, taking a few days off, before venturing into business again. A comfortable silence spread between them as Erin pulled a corkscrew from her pockets and began to work on the bottle.

"You know, I should have listened to you," she said quietly, mumbling a little into her scarf, and he chuckled softly. “Yeah, you should’ve. But your plan was exceptional.” He said, taking the bottle from her hands and taking a small sip. He wasn’t the biggest fan of wine, alcohol in general, but right now it really hit the right spot. “Even I didn't know about some of his abilities.”

Garrett really didn’t want to talk about Corvo, wanted to shove him as far from his mind as possible, but that wasn’t really something he could do right now. She sighed, took the bottle from him and took a sip as well. "He could have killed me." She whispered, lost in thought. "Easily." A quiet, stunned laugh stumbled out of her mouth. "But he didn't." Garrett looked down at the metal floor. He realized that he hadn't expected Corvo to kill any of them himself, even though he easily could’ve once he caught them. He knew he wouldn't have done it. He would have handed them over to the general. A fate worse than the gentle death that could befall one at Corvo's hands.

"Attano is a strange man..." He finally said quietly, taking the bottle back. "He wants justice, not revenge. He doesn't fit in this city." He took a sip of the wine and Erin looked at him thoughtfully from the side. Then she leaned back and sighed. "You know him well..." she said thoughtfully, gently, and smiled, but before Garrett could even react, she continued: “I would much rather have him here than the general." She laughed warmly and Garrett smiled with her. She had no idea how much her words resonated with him. He could no longer deny that he welcomed Corvo's presence. Even if he intended to push what had happened last night away, he still viewed him as an honourable man, comfortable to have around. It was nothing more than curiosity that had taken hold of him, the adrenaline that had come from their fight... and yet her words were true. He would make this city better. Not for him, though.

"Perhaps he would join forces with us," Erin whispered, half to him and half to herself. "This  empress of his would certainly benefit from it. After all, the criminals here are the ones who really have the city under control."

Garrett couldn't help but smile in amusement. He had taught her a lot. She looked at him questioningly from the side. Garrett took another sip, then passed the bottle to her.

"Unfortunately, he's not interested in an allegiance."

There was a brief silence between them, then a broad grin crept across Erin's face. "You asked him," she confirmed, stunned, and shook her head in amusement. "When was that? Was that yesterday?"

She took a sip of wine and then put the bottle on the floor. Garrett shook his head. "It was...when we were in the ruins together," he lied, looking up at the ceiling.

"How did you escape him anyway?"

Garrett knew that the question had to come eventually and exhaled heavily. He thought about it. "Many of his abilities have no power over me..." He finally said quietly and tapped his temple. Erin nodded and drank another sip, then handed the wine over to him.

"He can’t slow my time." Garrett drank a little more this time before continuing. "And he can't get inside my head." ...except with his tongue. The thought made him almost choke on the wine. He rolled his head around and frowned, but it took him a few seconds to get the image out of his head. He wondered if his chin was still chafed and red from Corvo's stubble. “And then I was able to slip free of his grasp because of his injuries.”

Thankfully, that seemed to be enough information for her. Erin nodded and there was silence for a moment. Then she smiled. "The plan seems to have failed. Even if you could have, you wouldn't have killed him anyways."

Garrett was silent and didn't deny it.

"What now?" she asked suddenly, and he didn't know how to answer. He didn't feel like coming face to face with Corvo any time soon, definitely had enough of him for now. He sighed.

"Wish I knew."

She took the bottle of wine again, raised it in the air with a smile. “Well, here’s to us!”, she drank a sip then handed it to Garrett who took it without hesitation. "The law of thieves triumphs once again over the forces of justice." She giggled, the wine apparently getting to her head and he smiled. "To unity," she croaked and laughed, and Garrett couldn't shake the bitter aftertaste of her words. How many times had he lied to her? They drank to unity while he surrendered to the mouth of his enemy. Garrett  was definitely developing a headache. He just really hoped it was from the wine.

In the crippled Burrick, their accomplices sat crestfallen and at a loss. When Erin and Garrett entered, however, their faces lifted a little and they greeted him with relief. Hagen offered him a beer, which he declined with a wave of his hand. The wine with Erin was definitely enough. Basso wanted to embrace him in an exuberant hug, but then apparently decided against it and patted him firmly on the shoulder.

"See? I told you,“ He croaked in the direction of the others. "Garrett knows how to get out."

Thomas indeed looked a little under the weather and Garrett smiled at him apologetically. The man nodded and lifted his beer in a greeting. Garrett and Erin had talked for a long while, exchanging memories, drinking and encouraging each other. Now it was almost morning. The blood was rushing a little in his ears and he had a pit in his stomach. Alcohol was simply not a good idea at his age. Nevertheless, her presence had helped him not to sink into his own thoughts, which would definitely have had a strange aftertaste.

"It seems we've awakened sleeping dogs..." Hagen hissed quietly and those present listened up. "Yesterday Attano has  increased the guard and changed their routes. All across the board." Garrett frowned and looked at the scrawny man from the side. Hagen smiled silently, seemed to notice his gaze and was quiet for a second. Erin's gentle laughter tore him out of his thoughts. "Damn, he must have thrown himself into work." Hagen nodded amused. "Just tonight he made sure two thieves got arrested properly. One of them I didn't know, the other is a guard himself, good contact of mine. He was always very careful to keep his... salary increase in line with the law."

"How did he even do that? Isn’t he still in hospital?” Erin sighed. She was right. Garrett doubted he was already out, he must’ve given orders from there. Garrett tried not to think about it that still nobody breached his clocktower during the day even though Corvo knew he had been back there at least once. Maybe he thought Garrett wouldn’t be that dense to move in again. “I think we should give Garrett's plan a chance." Erin said, ultimately, and Basso nodded in agreement. Then she sat down next to Thomas and looked carefully at his blue left cheekbone. He let her run her slender fingers over it and looked at her encouragingly. Garrett sighed and sat down on the bench next to Hagen. He pursed his lips, remembering his conversation with Erin. Corvo didn't fit in this city. "The general wasn't amused..." Hagen whispered and Erin giggled.

Then Basso cleared his throat next to him and turned his head. "It wouldn’t be so bad for me though. Many... self-employed don't dare go out on the streets anymore. We fences have more orders for our specialists than ever before." Garrett smiled and shook his head.

The next night Garrett was cautious and slow. He peered carefully into every corner and was attentive not to alarm anyone on his foray. He slipped a gold bracelet into his pocket. Corvo was probably restless too, had thrown himself into his tasks to escape his thoughts. Bad for him but nevertheless, something like relief spread through him that he wasn't the only one who preferred to keep his mind occupied after what had happened. Many times last night had forced itself into his thoughts, often repeating itself, running through his mind in a continuous loop.

On the roof of the house at the docks he had just been in he let his power flow gently, concentrated. The city turned grey; a quiet, high-frequency hum tingled in his ears.

Back in the hospital, Corvo’s primal force had surrounded his senses, had softened the edges of his mind. One minute he had pressed his body against the wall, and suddenly they were on his bed. Garrett frowned. Then he allowed the thought that had been floating around in his brain since last night. It had been him who had directed them to the bed, not Corvo, only him. Uncomfortably, his heart pounded against his chest. He took a deep breath.

Concentrating, he thought of the roof next to him, formed a clear picture in his mind. A tingling thread of pure energy gathered in his lap, tugging at him, vibrating through his veins. He pulled the thread tight, the tension increased. And then he let it snap. With a jerk he let himself be pulled forward, opened his eyes and saw how he merged with the black shadows and shot through the fog like an arrow from a bow. He could cover a distance in the blink of an eye that would have taken him at least twenty seconds to cover on foot, even if he leapt through the shadows. And finally he understood how Corvo did it, what he himself had done in their primal connected hivemind or whatever it had been that night. Smiling he tried to blink between the rooftops again and again. The feeling was strange, intense. And it was not inexhaustible. After a few times, his tension eased, the distances became shorter, and exertion burned in his lungs. After a while, he could no longer maintain the tension and the thread remained loose. But it had been enough to satisfy his curiosity. This would really come in handy in his line of work…

The nights became long and dangerous. Basso became increasingly restless when Garrett asked for new jobs. Never before had thieves and criminals been caught and brought to justice so quickly. And apparently Corvo was on the hunt himself. Still injured, still not fully recovered, but his arm was usable enough, and he seemed to be hungry for justice. It had been a few days and Corvo had been a relentless foe, changing the rhythm of the guards every night, without Hagen being able to understand their pattern. Apparently every patrol got their new orders just the night they would have to follow them. Sometimes they repeated themselves, but often enough they were random and unpredictable. It exhausted them.

Tonight, Garrett was supposed to steal back an apparently purloined heirloom from the van Drakenbergs' city house. The assignment came from a good friend of Basso's. A trustworthy fellow. As he sat quietly in an adjacent alley and listened carefully, an uneasy feeling spread through him. Garrett had become alert, felt the slightest vibration in his bones and listened to the whispering advice of his skull. Something wasn't right about this job. The streets were far too silent, the guards too relaxed. He carefully let his primal probe its way through the foggy air, then decided it ultimately wasn’t worth it. Basso had dismissed him as being too cautious and had shaken his head, somewhat amused. Tony was one of his oldest acquaintances, he had often found him a job before Garrett was yet twenty-five. Two days later, the man who had taken on the job was arrested by Corvo Attano himself. And Basso became silent.

It was a natural process and the waiting became exhausting. They rarely met in the pubs since the raids and Basso had already dealt with Attano several times but was always able to dismiss the accusations. But Corvo was adamant and fierce. His methods were questionable and not in accordance with the law. Hagen assured them that the unrest was getting louder, that the general had repeatedly questioned his work. Groups were forming and Garrett was no longer taking jobs from outside.

And then one day, Garrett found a painting in Basso's lair.

The fence sat in front of the brazier, quietly warming his hands. Garrett had only come here to sell some loot, even if it wasn't much, he really needed the money. But the painting had immediately caught his eye. Garrett froze; his heart instantly dropped to the floor. The seductive body of a naked woman draped elegantly over the furniture, a thin pearl necklace around her narrow collarbones. Her head, however, was that of a goat, staring blankly at the grey ceiling of Basso’s basement. He took a slow breath, then looked at the painting for a long time, the insatiable appetite. Carefully, he took it in his hands, turned it around and Basso took notice. He sat up heavily and pointed to the painting in his hands. "Do you recognize it?" he asked intrigued, and Garrett nodded absently, staring at the long, almost cursive letters on the back.

Garrett

meet me in the evening.

I'll be waiting

His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately felt a lump in his throat. Garrett’s previous message had been crossed out and was no longer legible. Only the carefully written words of the painting itself were unchanged. There's a worm in my brain. I think it’s you. Garrett felt his breath quicken, images flashing in his mind of Corvo's eyes, desperately squinted in pleasure. Suddenly he felt his firm grip on his hips and his mouth on his and slowly he put the painting back on Basso’s desk. He frowned and Basso looked at him from the side. “Garrett?”

"Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice calm, though quiet, feigning indifference. His heart was throbbing, forcing the only slowly subsiding adrenaline through his veins. But Basso only shrugged apologetically and spread his arms in defence. "I don't know. It suddenly appeared on my desk. Only strange things appear suddenly on a desk, don’t you think? Shady things. I thought it was a wicked job... didn’t even have a meeting place on it. It can't have been more than two days."

Garrett nodded and Basso got up, walked over to him, to look at the painting, then turning it around to inspect the writing. “Do you know who it is?”

Garrett left the question unanswered, his fingers already restlessly searching in his pockets for his loot. It was better to end the conversation right then. And Basso knew when not to push his luck.

Basso counted the coins into his hand and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't much, and Garrett wrinkled his nose. "Maybe you should take the job," the fence joked, nodding toward the picture.

There was no way he would go.

It started to rain. Garrett swiftly blinked towards the nearest shelter. He paused, then took a deep breath and looked up into the sky. The clouds hung grey and murky, obscured by shabby clotheslines, down onto the rooftops. He sighed. As much as he wanted to convince himself, he could hardly imagine that the painting was a trap.  Corvo knew that Basso was in contact with him, somehow he knew or suspected it. If he really wanted to catch him, he wouldn't have sent a message. The absence of his fence would have been message enough. Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a second.

He and Corvo were similar, he enjoyed the connection they shared through their age, their life experiences, the way they spoke and thought. But ultimately they were enemies, their lives could not intersect as they had already intersected once, and Garrett knew he couldn’t allow that to happen again. There was no way he would go.

The cold ship smelled of the sea, of foreign lands and old wood. For a while he looked out at the black waves, even though he had never liked the water. A lot had happened lately. His life was in disarray. He thought about Corvo, sexually and perhaps in another way, too, as much as he tried to avoid it. There was no point in indulging anyways. Garrett smiled bitterly. It had been so long since he had desired anybody. It was stuffy in the ship, the walls and ceiling seemed to crush him. It didn't help that it was Corvo's ship that he was hiding in. He collapsed onto his blankets and looked to the ceiling. He was tired, exhausted. He had to pull himself together. Only hours later, he managed to fall into a dreamless sleep.

The wait was long and exhausting, and the nights were quiet and anxious. They hardly dared to go outside fearing capture or worse. And in the middle of the city, threatening, stood the old bell tower, silently keeping watch. He, too, waited, patiently and inevitably. The watchface wore Corvos features and Garrett did best to avoid its gaze. The painting didn’t mention an address and yet of course he knew where to look. The streets had become quieter; even the guards seemed more relaxed. Garrett ran his slender fingers over the cold brickwork and watched their patrol from the shadows. He smiled darkly. Let Corvo wait for him, until summer. As long as the man was sitting around in the clock tower, he would go about his business undisturbed...

Triumph gnawed at his chest whenever he thought about this superiority. And yet he knew he would writhe beneath Corvo in his sleep. It didn’t matter. He was always able to not submit to his body, why should this time be any different?  

Chapter Text

Recap:

While Corvo was recovering from his wounds in the hospital, Garrett often came to visit. He wanted to make a suggestion: an alliance with the criminals. However, he hesitated, and with his hesitation, he allowed a tentative friendship (and maybe something else) to develop.  But Corvo rejected the proposal, the stakes were too high. Meanwhile, Erin and the others planned a final blow against him. But the assassination failed, and Garrett surrendered himself to Corvo —literally. They shared a passionate kiss in the silence of the night. But the approaching reinforcements forced Garrett to flee. Corvo then threw himself into work, and Garrett also tried to put what had happened behind him. The failed assassins then came up with a new plan to deal with Corvo: ignore him until the General thief taker gets fed up with him and takes matters into his own hands. But then Garrett found a message from Corvo, asking him for a meet up.

 ~*~ 

Disorder

Anxious, fluttering torches flickered through the darkness, boasting in the stiff hands of the guards, swarming around the old mill like angry wasps. Their voices boomed, cut the silence of the night into buzzing pieces of trembling heartbeat. Erin's breath came ragged, quivering in the cold air of the early night. She was cold. Fear had pierced her bones, startled her. Now she crouched on a wet beam, her eyes wide open, following the tiny dots of torches in front of her home. A washed out blue peeked through the wet clouds, when she looked up, her gaze slowly getting used to the darkness and realizing that the night was still young. She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaled in a long exhausted breath. She felt the approaching headache boiling behind her skull.

She had escaped, thanks to her caution. The guards had carelessly triggered the traps, alerting her. Erin hadn't been able to take much with her as she fled outside, still, she managed to keep herself in one piece. Internally cutting her losses, she frowned, then scurried through the alleys towards the docks. There was only one person, who could help her now.

She and Garrett had recently put many of their differences behind them. He was still hypocritical, thought he was better than everyone else, or was simply naïve, she wasn’t entirely sure. She never could live up to his expectations before. She still couldn't. But he wasn't such a pain in the butt about it anymore. Or at least she hoped so.

The harbour seemed brighter than the rest of the city somehow. It was foggy, the sluggish sea calm as a mirror. Lazily, the salty waves lapped at the piers, rocking the mushy seaweed in a cold, wet cradle. It was a beautiful evening to lose ones house, really. She breathed in the crisp air, then quietly slipped towards Corvo Attano’s ship.

Garrett sat on a blanket, turning an apple in his slender fingers. It was round and fresh, a natural rosy colour covering the polished skin in fine brushstrokes, blending with a pale yellow and the soft golden of a topaz. He squinted, turning the supple fruit in his hands. The bottom stuck out like a star, like the setting of a diamond, and he wondered what apple blossoms looked like. The stem was green, and the longer he stared at it, the more bizarre it seemed. A quiet crack of the latch made him jump and almost throw the apple across the metal floor, the faint image of Corvo’s features, apple slice on an army knife, guiltily vanishing from his mind. He recognized Erin immediately by her slender ankles and the way she shimmied her way down the ladder. He frowned thoughtfully. Her grey eyes were pale and unpainted, her clothes loose and hurried. Something was wrong. She was clearly agitated. He straightened, lit another candle, just to busy his hands, and gestured her to sit down.

For a while she just sat on the floor, seemingly staring at something in a faraway corner of her mind. He didn’t dare ask, eventually just sat down in front of her, twisting and turning the apple in his hands. She sat folded up before him, small, and suddenly reminded him of the young girl who had sat lost and aimless on his bed eight years ago. She had worn only a white, dirty shirt then, blood still sticking to her hands. The fate of a whore who didn't want to be one, a woman that had proven herself unsuitable. She had not been a woman yet, and while her long, bony fingers peeled the drying blood from her skin, Garrett thought she was much more than that anyways. He still thought that.

“I can’t do this anymore…” she suddenly whispered softly, and Garrett kept quiet, scratching at the skin of the apple with blunt fingertips the way she had rubbed off the blood from her hands all those years ago. He didn’t know what to say. They must’ve found her hideout. He didn’t look into her eyes; knew he wasn’t ready for the panic he’d see in them. He sighed and got up, then took a blanket from behind him and handed it to her. She took it with a small nod and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“We’ll be fine.” He said, his voice deep and hollow, as if his mouth refused to form the empty threat that lied behind his dismissal. He was suddenly very tired. He blinked a few times, then he sat down in front of her again.

“The general won’t even help you if he benefits from it himself…”, Erin chuckled softly and shrugged, her fingers folded in her lap. She looked at them. Garrett didn’t know how she managed to pull herself together after such a defeat. At the same time, he remembered that he, too, had lost his home not long ago. He didn't give her enough credit for her composure; she was much more resilient than he made her out to be. Erin looked at him from the side and smiled softly. “Can’t you like, talk to him?” She didn’t mean the general. It was a joke. And Garrett knew it was a joke, but his heart clenched painfully in his chest and the apple in his hands grew heavy.

“He’s not interested in an alliance.”

It became quiet between them again. Garrett cringed inside as he repeated himself, sounded like a broken record, only able to spew out empty promises, lies and appeasements. His serious words had cracked open her attempt to lighten the atmosphere, and now they rolled across the metal floor; with the waves, back and forth and back and forth and…

“What did he say?” Erin asked, and Garrett leaned back, one hand on the ground, the other still holding the apple like a lifeline. He tilted his head back and remained silent for a moment. Erin was impulsive. He couldn’t trust her. He reminded himself of what happened when he told her about the ring and frowned. But he had lied to her, more than that, put her in danger. His heart began pounding hard. He knew, he couldn’t go on like this, he was a coward. How could he continue to lie, continue to put them all in danger, while he…

He swallowed, his throat dry. When did his life become so dark? “It’s complicated,” he croaked, his voice a stale aftertaste like the last, burnt puffs in a warm pipe. He sat up, suddenly queasy, then cleared his throat, as if he had smoked that pipe, heart pumping in his ears. A shiver ran down his spine and hi s stomach churned. Erin straightened a bit, looking at him confused. She didn’t interrupt him. Her pale, biting eyes followed his every move. He frowned, then tried to stifle his heartbeat, exhaling way too loud and way too suspicious. There was so much to say and none of it was able to leave his mouth, got stuck in his throat. “Do you trust me?” he eventually asked quietly, so quietly that Erin frowned trying to understand him. Then she nodded in an equally perceptible manner.

“Attano is… restless,” he finally regurgitated, struggling for words that wouldn’t fit in his throat. Again he was silent for a while, forming sentences in his mind only to immediately lose them again. So much had happened, so much that the little he was willing to say was drowning in its magnitude. 

In the end, Erin sighed and lowered her gaze. “Alright,” she smoothed down the tension, “Something happened, I get it.” She breathed in in an attempt to relax. Garrett released the breath with the apple he was holding and didn’t deny it. She smiled weakly, then pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders and looked past him at the wall. She snorted softly and shook her head. “I knew something didn’t add up – no offense.” She clicked her tongue. “You’ve escaped him what – two times? No, three, if you count the thing with his ring… suspicious if you ask me… What on earth did you do to him?!” Erin’s voice grew louder which every word and utterly confused towards the end as she wildly gestured with her hands. It caused her blanket to almost fall off. “Me?” Garrett asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I… nothing, really… we… I…,” he trailed off. “Listen. Attano and I might’ve spoken… a few times. He is committed to his country, to his Empress; he cannot form an alliance with us, because forming one with the officials is too important, that’s why-“

“You’re friends.”

Her softly whispered words were quiet, yet they completely knocked the air from his lungs. Garrett froze. For a brief moment, there was silence, then Erin chuckled softly and ran her hand through her hair, shaking her head. “And I almost let you watch me kill him.” She gasped incredulously. Garrett didn’t answer, only watched her with a furrowed brow, heart pounding wildly in his chest at her accusation. "Why didn't you say something?" It took him a while to recover from his stupor, then he sighed softly and leaned back again. "Because it doesn't make a difference," he said quietly, looking down at his fingers. "Corvo can't escape his position, nor can I escape mine.”

Erin raised her brow in disbelief, then grimaced. "Cor-? Well… I mean, of course he can! If he joins forces with us, then—" Garrett interrupted with a soft laugh. "We’re hardly a force to begin with. And believe me, there's so much more riding on this alliance with England than you realize." She snorted in annoyance, then pulled the blanket back over her shoulders.

For a while there was only the soft sound of the calm waves around the ship.

"While we're at it..." she whispered, tugging at the old fabric. "Thomas and I are a couple."

Erin had been terribly exhausted. Not long after their conversation, she lay down in a makeshift bed and fell asleep. Her soft breathing calmed him a little. He could never have told her everything that had happened; he had betrayed her, them, too many times. He looked up at the ceiling and thought of the goat, probably staring from the canvas at Basso's basement ceiling at this very moment. Just like him. He wondered, if Corvo sometimes looked up at the ceiling as well, thinking of him. Garrett wouldn't have acted any differently if he could turn back time; that was the worst part. He would have returned the ring no matter what and wouldn't have told Erin or Basso about it until he was back safe and sound. He wouldn't have let Corvo die in the burrick cave. If anything, he would have warned him earlier, so he wouldn't have ended up in the hospital at all. Even their kiss... he wouldn't have done anything differently. Perhaps he never would have stolen his ring though, now that he thought about it. It was with the ring that their polar opposites turned inside out, what had set the coin rolling that bore both their faces on its sides, and neither of them knew who would come out on top when it stopped.

He sighed and put on his gauntlets, checking the delicate mechanisms inside. His heart beat softly, pumping a steady stream of adrenaline through his vessels. Friends, he thought, curling his lips into a line. If only that were all. He wouldn't be able to run away, not if Erin lost her home in the process, not if Basso had to quit his profession because it wasn't bringing in enough money anymore. Ultimately, everything depended on him. A while ago, he had laughed at this megalomania, but now he wasn't in the mood to laugh anymore. In  fact, he’d rather just disappear at the mere thought of confronting Corvo. He quietly crept to the ladder and climbed the steps.

Corvo was a grown man, he was reasonable. Even if he wanted to capture him, Garrett knew he didn’t wait for him in the clocktower to arrest him. And as much as he hoped he had changed his mind about the proposed alliance, he also knew the reason would be a different one. He sighed as he stepped outside the latch and breathed in the cold evening air. He was nervous. Terribly so, even. And he could no longer convince himself that it was because of Corvo's efforts to arrest him.

There were many people on the streets, and it wasn't very late yet. Garrett usually left his hiding place later for precisely this reason. He cautiously slipped across the rooftops, grateful for the movement that absorbed his tension. He tried to think about Erin, about Basso, and all their futures. He didn’t even know if he would still wait for him anyway. But even after all these nights, the image of Corvo's heavy, desperate eyes was burned into his retina.

The black clock tower stood proudly in the centre of Stonemarket, old and abandoned. Cold winds caressed its pointed roof, and its face looked in every direction, as if searching, keeping watch. Dark, heavy clouds hid the pale moon, and a cold wind pierced Garretts eyes, made them water. He blinked, looked around himself as if he expected someone following him. A storm was coming. He shivered, then slowly, without allowing his thoughts to interfere, he crept closer. Strained and alert he forced himself to stay calm, stifled his heartbeat. A distant thunder rolled through the clouds, far away and quiet and Garrett exhaled audibly. This was ridiculous.

The Gothic windows of the bell tower were pointed and majestic. Like a parasite, the scaffolding snaked up the sides of the cold stone walls. Garrett ducked and finally slipped up the brittle construction that had been abandoned long before. He didn't want to crawl up inside the tower. It was stuffy there and cramped. Suddenly, his skull fluttered softly, a melody so familiar, yet making him freeze in an instant, his heart pounding in his chest as if it were about to burst out. He was here. Garrett breathed in, calmed himself. There was no need for second thoughts now. He wondered, if Corvo could feel his primal approach too.

The small loft of his lair was lit only by a shy, single candle. Dim, orange light flickered out into the cold night. He frowned, lungs in his throat as he slowly climbed through the open stone window, moving the suede protection out of the way. He breathed in, licked over his dry lips. There was no turning back. Quietly, he gathered his composure, pulled down his mask, then clicked his tongue twice, loud enough to be heard from below. For a few excruciating seconds everything went quiet. Then, suddenly there was a loud thud and Garrett felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs, was suddenly very aware of his position. His fingers trembled, adrenaline surging through his chest. When a broad shadow momentarily hushed over the watchface, he almost bolted. Strained and alert he forced himself to stay rooted on the spot, forcing his lungs to keep quiet. And then Corvo’s broad frame walked around the corner at his showcases and Garrett's thoughts crumbled to dust.

The faint orange light of the candle flickered over Corvo’s distant features. He looked tired. The dark circles underneath his eyes seemed darker, almost indented underneath his lids. His skin was pale and oily. Fluidly Garrett shifted his weight onto his right foot, restless, cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms. There was a faint smile that had Garretts heart throb, and he frowned, didn’t allow himself to show any other emotion for he feared to crumble away under its weight.

"You look like shit," he hummed quietly, his chest far too tight for honesty. Corvo said nothing, standing rooted to the old wooden floor in front of his display cases, staring at him from afar as if he'd seen a ghost, and Garrett's stomach churned at the rawness of his expression.

He smiled to overplay his nervousness. "Now don't look at me like that," he said, then ran a finger along the railing, inspecting it for dust. "It was you who wanted to see me." He slowly strode into the room and walked down the old steps toward him. At that Corvo seemed to wake up from his stupor, looking almost hurt. "That was two weeks ago…” he whispered. Garrett held his gaze for a moment, heart pounding, and then stopped. He smirked crookedly.

"And yet, you're here."

Corvo's expression darkened, and he frowned gravely. Suddenly, Garrett felt Corvo’s primal contract, and his heart leaped into his throat. In the blink of an eye, Corvo was directly in front of him, his large body casting a menacing shadow over him, reminding him how dangerous the man he faced actually was. "You're cruel." Corvo whispered threateningly, his voice breaking under the weight of his words, cracking like a piece of wood in a wildfire. Garrett took a sharp breath, immediately blinking out of range, the accusation burning between his ribs. He stood up tall, shifting his weight onto his left foot. Then he hummed, his voice calm, but scratchy. "No, I'm realistic," he sighed, crossed his arms in front of his chest. Thunder rumbled, and heavy rain suddenly pattered against the face of the large clock. "We are enemies. Nothing that has happened should have a chance to happen again. And you know it."  

It fell silent. Corvo looked him straight in the eyes, not letting go. Then he lowered his gaze.

"So there's a chance." His voice was quiet, as if Garrett's answer had taken all the air from his lungs. Garrett inhaled loudly and then looked down at the floor. He was agitated, his heart pounding, squeezing. "You know what I mean." Corvo had to know that Garrett was right. "I do,” he said, now strangely calm. With a sigh, Corvo let go of the tension that was gripping him mere seconds ago, rotated his wrist, the vibration of the primal now only a soft afterglow in Garrett’s guts. “And I do know why you're here. But I can assure you; they haven't found her."

Garrett wrinkled his nose, uncertain. "Her?” He asked, while simultaneously understanding what he meant. “Oh… I know.” There was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She's with me."

The rain pattered against the pointed spire, sounding like distant applause. Thunder stifled in thick, grey clouds, whispering dully in his ears. The wind whistled softly through the narrow cracks in the wood, telling stories from far away, where it was warm and comfortable. Corvo stared into the flickering flame of the candle. Harsh shadows flitted fearfully across his face.

"Then why are you here, if not for her?" he asked, his voice strangely empty, distorted perhaps by the rain or perhaps by sentiment. Garrett smiled bitterly.

"You asked."

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Erin had lost her home, and Garrett could see the dire situation they were in, if it continued like this. He didn’t know what he expected to come out of his visit, he only knew that it was his best chance to get to an agreement. After all, he had been sure of it, that Corvo wouldn’t try to capture him. He didn't know a better answer, and Corvo didn't seem to have expected one.

“You’re waiting me out.” He said, now looking into Garretts eyes, then slowly crossing the distance between them, and Garrett unfolded his arms and let them fall to his sides. He was glad that their silence was broken, and the conversation went into a different direction. He smiled. "Is it working?"

"I've thought a lot about your suggestion," Corvo said, and Garrett raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking at him from the side as he walked past him towards the bed. Garrett turned around. "The general is dissatisfied with my work," he said, pulling out a chair from the side, then he gestured towards him to sit down on the bed. "It won't be long before he turns on me. That is what you’re waiting for, isn’t it?"

Garrett snorted, looked at him strangely, then blinked to the edge of his bed, and lit the candle on the side table. Now it was Corvo who looked at him for a moment, then raised his brows. "I really didn't expect you to learn so quickly, you know?"

Softly the rain pattered on the roof and Garrett smiled, leaned back on his hands. Proudly he soaked up the attention that was flickering in Corvo’s gaze, his dark eyes sticky and warm. Then Corvo smiled as well and suddenly the air around him grew tight and oily.

"I'm waiting for it too," he whispered quietly, as if it was a secret, so quietly that Garrett felt his words trickle down his nape more than heard them. He shuddered and Corvo’s eyes grew dark. "I can't wait for him to try to kill me … for the Baron to lower his conditions to avoid war..." Thunder rumbled outside the window somewhere above them, swallowed by thick, grey clouds and rain. Corvo’s sharp chin cast dark shadows on his neck. He wore only a white shirt, his heavy blue coat lying on one of the crates. He had put down his weapons, and his arm was no longer bandaged. Dark hair grew from the low-open collar of his shirt, shading his chest. Corvo’s voice grew restless and deep, and Garrett glanced back into his eyes. "I can't wait to go renegade."

He held Corvo’s fiery gaze in his eyes, determined, heart burning in his chest. Corvo raised his eyebrows, and Garrett didn't avert his eyes, even though it singed his retinas. He forced himself to calm down.

"The general won't make it easy for you," he eventually said slowly. "He'll hold out, wait until an opportunity presents itself. He knows he has no chance if the conditions are fair." Corvo carefully considered his words, his brow furrowing slightly and he pursed his lips. Garrett smiled narrowly. "You might have to lure him."

It wasn't an easy task. The general had many guards behind him, guards who were convinced that only someone who was corrupt himself could take action against corruption. And at the same time, while he was a slimy scoundrel, he was no coward. "I also don't know how much the Baron himself officially tolerates," he pondered, placing his hands in his lap. "If the Baron goes along with this black tax of his, then you had no chance from the start. Nothing would change." Corvo said nothing, frowned, looking into the dancing flames of the candles. He had rolled up his sleeves. There were a few scars on his tanned, hairy forearms, the teeth marks looked recent. Garrett grimaced and looked away.

"Perhaps the only chance of this alliance of yours is if you abide by their corrupt rules and hand me over," he said bluntly, folding his arms across his chest. Corvo exhaled audibly. "As if you'd let me." And Garrett hummed, then raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "But you should know that even if you go rogue, it might not save your mission."

Corvo pursed his lips, and Garrett stood up, began pacing the room, deep in thought. "You need witnesses," he mumbled into his fist, which he held to his chin. "Important, powerful witnesses," and Corvo snorted exhaustedly. “And you’ll provide me with them?”

Garrett paused and looked at him indefinably, then he smacked his tongue against his teeth. "I know, that if you really want an alliance for your country, I'm not a force that can stand against you." His words were serious, pointed. He approached slowly, noticing triumphantly how closely Corvo followed his movements. He smirked. "I don't want to be your enemy…,” he hummed, bent down a little to speak to him. “… because we both know the word prey.fits.better," he paused for a long moment, then let the words roll from his tongue as casual as he could muster.

“So for now, allow me to be your friend.”

Garrett didn't really have a plan, but he was convinced he could be of use to Corvo, which might give them a foot in the door. He knew the general, the city, the baron, and his entire family; he had valuable information, insights, and connections. Corvo, on the other hand, was a stranger. If what Corvo said was true and he knew about the scheming of the general, then he was not only smarter than all of them had assumed, but he was also at least one step ahead. Garrett hadn't thought about what would happen if the general wanted to get rid of Corvo. He had taken it for granted that he surely wouldn't succeed in murdering him. If a dozen Burricks weren’t able to, the general surely had no chance. The problem, as always, was politics.

"You need the rich on your side. They have influence and power in this city," he muttered to himself, and Corvo silently followed him with his eyes. He looked thin, his pale skin gaining colour in the warm candlelight. He paced fluidly in the small room as he thought. Corvo leaned back in his chair. "What do you suggest?"

Garrett hummed grinning and stopped in his tracks. "Charity work."

The proposal was simple. Corvo would announce to have located one of Garrett's hideouts and then distribute the secured stolen items back to their rightful owners. He would talk to them, attend their banquets, and build relationships. During this delicate time Corvo had to go into hiding so the general couldn't make an attempt on his life, while simultaneously attending all public events to strengthen his connections. When the time came to finally expose him, the support of the aristocracy would force the Baron, if he's involved in the shady practices of the general, to bring justice and form the alliance with Spain.

"Why do you want to help me, Garrett?"

The question hung empty in the air for a moment before Garrett turned his head and looked at him patiently. His long fingers rested on the glass of his display cases. He couldn't do anything with the valuables anyway as long as the threat of Corvo hung unresolved. He twitched his nose and lifted his eyebrows. "Hmm... and why don't you hold Basso captive, maybe torture him, until I surrender myself to you?" Slowly, he turned fully toward him and crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning against the dresser, smiling softly. "Why didn't you go and get Erin yourself? Now you don't have her." Corvo stood up, then gently approached him, smiling playfully, but his thick brows furrowed with an expression in his eyes Garrett couldn’t interpret. He came close, much closer than Garrett usually allowed, his broad body swallowing the candlelight on the nightstand. Garrett’s heart quickened. His eyes were so close and pitch black, his thick lashes hung heavy on his lids and strands of dark hair stuck to his forehead. He hadn’t shaved, his rough chin was sharp, and he smelled of stale beer, sweat and warmth.

“Because I care for you,” he whispered, his voice warm and quiet, so quiet, that the rain almost drowned his words in significance. He smiled and rested his hands on the dresser. Garrett didn’t dare move, his chest suddenly way too tight, mouth dry. And Corvo unfolded against his silence, his damp, heavy breath clinging to his mouth like old paint slowly peeling off, revealing only chafed, sensitive recognition. "What's your excuse?"

Chapter Text

Recap:

While Corvo was recovering from his wounds in the hospital, Garrett often came to him. He wanted to make a suggestion: an alliance with the criminals. However, he hesitated, and with his hesitation, he allowed a tentative friendship (and maybe something else) to develop.  But Corvo rejected the proposal, the stakes were too high. Meanwhile, Erin and the others planned a final blow against him. But the assassination failed, and Garrett surrendered himself to Corvo —quite literally. They shared a passionate kiss in the silence of the night. But the approaching reinforcements forced Garrett to flee. Corvo then threw himself into work, and Garrett also tried to put what had happened behind him. The failed assassins then come up with a new plan to deal with Corvo: ignore him until the General thief taker gets fed up with him. Garrett knows he likes Corvo, at least sexually, is pestered by dreams about it. And then Garrett finds a message from Corvo, asking him to meet him. But only after Erin's hideout has been discovered he finally follows his request. When they meet, the atmosphere is heavy with emotion, but Garrett makes it adamantly clear he doesn't want to built upon what they had shared. He knows Corvo and him don't fit in each others lifes. He finds out, that Corvo is waiting for the General to try to get rid of him too, that he knows that the General stands in his way more than he's helping. Corvo also feels conflicted about capturing Garrett and hopes dealing with the general will bypass the condition of Garrett's arrest. Garrett and Corvo form a delicate alliance at that and want to try working together to achieve their goal. But it is crucial that Corvo get's the richest of eternal city to stand behind him, otherwise the revelation about Harlan might carry no weight before the corrupt barony. Garrett is therefore supposed to feed Corvo with opportunities to get into the circles of the rich. When Corvo asks, why Garrett helps him, Garrett answer with a question himself: Why not going the easy way? But Corvo has an answer ready and admits, that he cares for him. 

There's a worm in my brain...

In the darkness, the rain shimmered palely on the worn cobblestones in the light of the lanterns. It slept restlessly, absorbing the stench and the rot of the city. Garrett opened the old, creaky door to the Crippled Burrick and stepped into the bar. An old, emaciated security guard stood at the counter, piss-drunk and hunch-backed and the sodden people of the underground sat around the rancid tables like rats around a mouldy slob of mass that might once have been bread. Some of the sunken, weary eyes have pricked up at him entering, were now following his narrow shadow flickering over the dry walls.

Basso was sitting in an empty booth, alone, deeply buried in his thoughts when Garrett slipped onto the bench opposite of him, folding his hands on the table. He looked at him with creased, purple eyes and put his beer down on the sticky, splintered tabletop.

“I heard about Erin,” he croaked quietly, then cleared his throat and shook is broad head. “This is not good, Garrett.” He mumbled something else under his breath that Garrett didn’t understand, then fell silent. A bell tolled from outside, a ship was leaving the harbour, so early in the morning, that the broad bug broke through the fog in the cover of darkness. Garrett clicked his tongue and pulled down the cloth from his nose, let his eyes wander around the barroom, then he leaned back against the wall of the booth. An old, bony woman laughed loudly at the joke of a sailor, her smoky voice raspy and spent.

“I spoke with Attano,” he hummed, voice low and deep, a secret shared between open ears, and Basso raised his eyebrows in stupor, his wide, dry fingers gripping the table like he was holding onto his sanity. And Garrett believed him. A small crook slipped into the corners of his mouth.

“Now don’t look at me like that, Basso,” he smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his eyes coming back to the fence and he looked at him, tilting his head to the side. Basso released the breath that he was holding in a long, wet cough, then he drank a big gulp of his beer.

“You’re fucking with me,” he blurted out, his raspy voice getting stuck somewhere between disbelief and doubt, and Garrett huffed out a laugh, shook his head, then he leaned forward onto the table.

“I’m a dishonest man but not cruel,” he whispered, and Basso looked at him indefinably, his attention sticky, full of worry and scepticism. He seemed like he wanted to sigh, but decided against it, looked around if anybody was listening to them. Then his eyes snapped back to him.

“You’re not kidding, are you. You made a deal with him? The royal fucking dog of the empire? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” The last words he hissed almost so loudly that he spewed, and Garrett leaned back a little to be out of spitting range. He raised his eyebrows to indicate him to be quiet, and Basso rolled his eyes, but checked his surroundings afterwards anyways.

“You can’t be serious.” Basso shook his head and then looked down into his beer. “You do realise this is insane, right?! I don’t believe it!” Basso drank another gulp of his beer, then he cleared his throat again, the wet sound rasping over Garrett’s spine and he shuddered. “This man is dangerous, for fucks sake! How did you even-” He seemed to have dropped all of his words for a second and frantically searching for them. “Like  after our attempt to kill him? Avoiding him for months? After all this, you say, you just casually waltzed up to him and all of a sudden he just accepts? Just like that?!”

“It wasn’t sudden.”

Garrett tilted his head to the side without haste and Basso frowned, incomprehension on his ragged face.

“What?”

“We’ve been in contact for way longer than you realise…months-“

“You knew he was in the hospital.”

Basso’s voice was calm, yet it cut through Garrett’s words like a knife. Garrett looked him in the eyes, openly and still, without wanting to hide anything, but also unapologetic. He smirked softly.

“Didn’t think you’d like it.”

Basso opened his mouth to say something, then looked around and closed it again, shook his head in disbelief.

“Damn right I don’t,” he hissed sharply. He drank the rest of his beer and silence spread between them for some excruciating seconds. Then Basso took a deep breath, defeated and raw.

“Can we trust him?”

A soft laugh stumbled out of Garrett’s mouth, and he looked down on the wood of the table where heavy pitchers had left their mark.

“I think trust is not what we are looking for.”

Basso was not convinced, but he nodded slowly and doubtful. Garrett crossed his arms again, leaning back and letting the tension sink into the bench he sat on.

“Corvo's hands are tied as long as the general stands in his way,” he hummed quietly, explaining, and Basso listened carefully. “We were waiting for Harlan to attack, but – believe it or not – he was waiting for it too. Corvo and I…”, Garrett paused for a short second, then let his finger trace the edge of the table. “See eye to eye in many ways and although it is more a… reluctant connection, we do want the same things for now.”

Basso exhaled raspingly, scratched the thin hair at his temple. “And what would that be now?”

Garrett pursed his lips at his dry words. Then he explained their plan, without disclosing too much, but enough to ensure the support of his fence and his men to provide Corvo with opportunity.

Basso sighed heavily after Garrett finished, pushing his mug back and forth as if he regretted emptying it so soon. Then he cleared his throat and shook his head.  

“I don’t like this.”

Garrett’s right eyebrow twitched, and he pulled up the cloth over his nose.

“You don’t have to.”

Quietly but quickly he got up, peeling himself from the bench, out of the booth, and turned to leave. “Garrett!”

He turned around just to see Basso twisted towards him, a deep frown on his sunken face. “Am I losing my touch?”

And Garrett smiled underneath his mask, casually shifting his weight onto one foot.

“You’ve never had one to begin with, old man,” he hummed gently, voice sharp. “But don’t feel sorry for yourself, now. It’s way too late for that anyways.”

~*~

Quietly and unnoticed, the gears around him had shifted. Softly they clicked in his ears, tick-tock, little clockwork, and the strings around him pulled taut. In the pale moonlight, the wet roof tiles gleamed proudly, and the wind carried the scent of rain, fish, and linen. A rusty pulley rocked back and forth, whining softly to the stars about loneliness and aching. Garrett breathed in the fresh air, indifferent to the wet tiles or the sad pulley, slipped through the darkness of Stonemarket.

Basso was right, they couldn’t trust Corvo. And how could they? Garrett knew that the man had lived as an outlaw for a long time, that he had killed for the crown, branded and exiled, but he was not a man of shadow, he was a man of power, a man rich enough to believe in justice and strong enough that nobody dared to prove him otherwise.

And Garrett…

Garrett was confused.

There was a light on in the small chamber of the clocktower, shyly flickering outside through the cracks of the suede covering the tiny opening. Corvo sat at Garretts desk, eyes closed, in front of him huge piles of documents, jewellery and all sorts of valuables that Garrett had stolen over years. He looked worn, his dark skin grey and overworked. His brown hair fell gently onto his stiff nape, and he was shaved, sharp chin rough and proud in the warm candlelight. Garrett slipped through the cracks.

“You know, when I said, ‘lay low’, I didn’t exactly mean in my own bed.”

Garrett’s voice was deep and raspy, rolled quietly through the silence with a dripping tone. Corvo cracked open an eye and looked at him from the side for a few seconds.

“You weren’t using it,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair a little more, then he closed his eyes again, enjoying the fresh wind around his nose that sneaked past the suede in front of the window. “Besides, I really like your décor.”

Garrett lifted his eyebrows in disbelief, then he crossed his arms and slowly came closer.

“I could enjoy it better without your thick head blocking the view.”

Corvo snorted, looked at him from the side. Garrett’s heart picked up pace as his eyes lingered and he smiled into his own stomach, without so much as a twitch in the corners of his mouth.

“What can I say… Its discreet,” Corvo murmured, more to himself than anything else. But Garrett had heard him. He slowly slipped closer, head slightly tilted, inspecting the delicate, golden necklace with attentive, curious eyes. Corvo held still as if frozen, as if scared that he would chase Garrett away at the tiniest movement. Carefully, Garrett bent down and let his middle finger drip down the shiny metal and hummed thoughtfully.

“Discreet, way too small for us both, and full of things I don’t want you touching.”

There was no bite in his voice, if anything, it sounded slightly moist and amused. Corvo smiled now, and Garrett tried to ignore the soft flutter in his legs and feet. Corvo tilted his head to the side.

“Including you?”

“First and foremost.”

Garrett didn’t miss a beat when he answered even though the implication hung heavy in his chest, sticky and saturated. Their situation had become increasingly tense over the past few weeks. Garrett was attracted to him, there was no denying that anymore, yet he couldn’t give into the words Corvo casually slipped into his soul. Garrett had been adamantly clear, that he didn’t wish to deepen their relations any further, and he knew it was the right choice, still he couldn’t help but play with the idea of him, and Corvo was always ready to answer his call. But he was a man of power, of responsibility and Garrett was a man of immorality, shadows and rot.

Corvo had closed his eyes again, casually lying in the chair, resting.

“Well, you weren’t exactly easy to find. And I don’t plan to get sniffed out anytime soon either. You should take it as a compliment, really.”

Garrett snorted and the floor creaked softly as he shifted his weight onto one foot. He smiled widely, not quite showing teeth, but cracked open at the left corner of his mouth, revealing that there was a breath behind it and he blinked.

“I’ll add it to my list.”

He leaned against the desk with his narrow hips, letting his slender fingers browse through the files of necklaces, basking in Corvo’s gaze, until he stopped at a specific one and produced it from the pile. Corvo took it with a curious frown. It was a file in which a certain Lord of Allinor Manor reported the theft of some of his wife's valuables, including a drop-shaped necklace with a pearl at the end. Garrett raised an eyebrow, then he smirked crookedly.

“I brought wine.”

~*~

Garrett smiled around a mouth full of red and tapped his foot against the floor restlessly. He was tipsy. Corvo, on the other hand was full on drunk, swaying slightly, as he stomped towards the nightstand and picked up something small that was lying on top of it. Garrett tried not to stare at his hamstrings and looked into his glass. As if oily, the heavy wine clung to the crystal, glinted in the soft candlelight.

“Here,” Corvo spat out triumphantly, his vowels way too open and is consonants wide. Garrett squinted at the tiny object he was holding delicately between pointer and thumb. He raised his brows.

“That’s my pick,” he stated dryly and Corvo smiled and twisted the tiny instrument in his broad fingers, then he looked at it as if to make sure it was still there. “I think now might be the time I actually returned it to you.”

Garrett snorted, then he leaned back against a beam and swirled his glass around. “Don’t bother, I’ve long since replaced it.” He drank a small sip of the bitter wine, then rubbed the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth at the taste. Corvo shrugged and looked at it again, pupils blown out of proportion and depth.

“I’ve learned a lot about you studying it.” He pocketed the tiny thing and Garrett lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh really? And what might that be?”

“You’re right handed and skilled using it, the marks where it scraped the locks are shallow. Your fingers are clean...”

There was a long pause where Garrett and Corvo just looked at each other, then Garrett lifted an eyebrow.

“That’s not much.”

“Yeah it isn’t...” Corvo turned around and picked up the bottle of wine again, drinking from it, apparently now skipping the glass entirely, and Garrett raised his brows. He felt something warm bubbling just above his navel. Whether it was excitement or vomit he couldn’t tell. The wine had started to work on his mind, softening the edges of his thoughts. He cleared his throat.

“The Rothchild charity banquet. Let’s talk about it, before we’re both wasted.”

When they returned to the desk, the mood had dropped a little and Garrett frowned at the mess. Without any respect for Corvos previous work, he pushed aside the various jewellery pieces and documents, that he had spread on the work surface, carefully sorted. Corvo groaned behind him as a pair of earrings hit the floor with a quiet clatter. He walked up next to Garrett to inspect the damage and then gestured to the mess slightly defeated.

“And there goes all my progress,” he sighed then pulled out the chair and sat down heavily. Garrett grinned, taking a small sip of his wine and then put the glass on the now free space before him. His lips felt fuzzy.

“You’ll manage,” he whispered way too sultry for his own taste, then cleared his throat. He pulled out a sealed letter from one of his pockets and put it on the table next to his wine glass.

Corvo sighed, glancing over the envelope with the pearly seal.

“You’re lucky I’m drunk enough to believe  you.” Curiously he reached past him, took the letter and Garrett caught the scent of soap, sour wine, and perfume. He had never smelled perfume on him before. “This is your entry to the Rothchild manor,” he said distracted, regretting the last two sips of wine as he now felt like he had to speak around the shape of his tongue.  Corvo turned the letter in the soft light for a little, then opened it with a sticky sound, smiling. 

“A cleaning order?”

Garrett snorted. “An invitation,” he hummed. “To your name personally.”

He skimmed the letter and while Corvo’s eyes got stuck in the scrawny writing, Garrett’s thoughts got stuck in his perfume. He had shaved, and the wine stained his lips purple.

“You didn’t open it,” Corvo said, and his tongue was purple too. “Why didn’t they send it to me personally?”

“Because they don’t want you there,” Garrett stated the obvious. “It was given to a servant who is unreliable and who has been on shift long enough to make sure it doesn't reach you."

Corvo put the letter back into its envelope and tucked it into his inner coat pocket.

“I should’ve recruited you earlier.”

Garrett smiled without his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I usually get paid,” he hummed. Corvo took off his coat and the smell of his perfume crept into Garretts nose again and he held his breath. With a quiet rustle, Corvo put it over the chair.

“And I have money,” he stated. “First and foremost, I’m always a man of diplomacy.”

Garrett leaned against the desk again, trying to ignore the word man in his sentence. “The Rothchilds are an old family,” he said, picking up a necklace from the table and a golden bracelet that he had stolen from their manor a few years ago, holding it out and Corvo took it curiously. His fingers were warm and sweaty. Garrett suppressed a shudder. “They only have one child, a daughter, she is married into the Heriot family now and Lady Rothchild to this day believes she has married down.” He paused for a second, checking if Corvo was still following him. “They have a long lasting feud with the Bumblesons, a family less wealthy but with a higher social status due to their relations and noble heritage.”

“Never mind, maybe it was a mistake to recruit you...”

Garrett smirked and picked up his glass of wine again, then pushed himself off the table and leaned into him, ignoring the voice in his head not to give into leading him on. He felt Corvo’s eyes on his mouth. Slowly, he raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. “Hmm, maybe, but unfortunately I’m the only bastard in this town who can help you.”

Garrett had to look up to him and he shuddered, suppressing his dreams that wanted to emerge from his unconscious, sexual and other desires trying to break through his wine-soaked thoughts. He needed to focus on the situation at hand. But Corvo smiled and his broad chin lifted a little with the corners of his mouth and Garrett looked at him with a crooked grin, drank another sip of wine, wondering if his own lips were purple too.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He hummed when Corvo didn’t say anything more, and Garrett couldn’t take the silence, his voice deep and slightly hoarse. His brain was swimming in the wine he had drank and Corvo smiled softly. The suede in front of the window fluttered quietly as the wind blew past it and Corvo leaned closer, crowding him back against the desk again.

“You’d know if you had.” He didn’t avert his eyes, and Garrett was too stubborn to back down. He lifted an eyebrow.

“You look like you want me to take your word for it.”

Corvo chuckled, the deep sound quietly trickling down Garrett’s back, then he took another step closer, and Garrett’s heart jumped. The soft moonlight seeping through the cracks of the window painted a silver line from Corvos brow to his chin. Garrett cocked his head to the side, shifted his weight onto one foot, the wine making him brave, and Corvo smiled.

“And what do you want?” Clearly he was hinting towards a specific outcome.

Garrett milled around the thought in his head for a little, enjoying it, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Perhaps you to stop staring at me like you’re about to make this more complicated.”

Corvo raised his eyebrows at his bluntness, but his stupor didn’t last long. He chuckled, yet he didn’t look away, on the contrary, his warm, brown eyes were glued to his, as if they saw the contemplation behind, the what if, the tiny pebble of curiosity, or maybe just the wine that made Corvo’s breath taste purple. It was all the same as Garrett’s mouth went dry, his dreams and thoughts flashing into his mind and his heart sank. But he caught the breath that was about to betray him, allowed the alcohol to make him bold. He didn’t avoid Corvo’s gaze or evaded his body, instead raised an eyebrow, heart squeezing in his chest. Corvo’s eyes flickered to his mouth and Garrett’s gaze followed, humming through gritted teeth.

“Don’t make that mistake,” he whispered deep, his voice something between a warning and a dare. And Corvo grinned and bent down, his face now only a breath away from his mouth. Garrett didn’t allow the warmth of his intent to seep into his skin, but he caught his eyes with anticipation when they twitched back into his. Corvo lowered his lids, lifted his chin and spoke straight into his mouth.

“Then don’t let it happen.”

Garrett held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, then he smirked, broke their eye contact and put his glass back onto the desk and Corvo exhaled amusedly, giving him space again taking a step back.

“You need to get close to the Rothchild daughter, she’s your ticket to the mother and then father,” Garrett said to distract, suppressing his fluttering heart and the feeling of Corvo’s breath still on his lips. That was close, way too close, his body slowly reacting to the idea of it. There was a splinter on the desk and Garrett ran his finger over it just to busy his hands, then he turned around to hide his implication. He needed to put some distance. He was incredibly unfair. Corvo chuckled.

“I can do close.” 

Garrett sighed and shot him a dirty look, then he searched through the documents that were still on the desk. “She likes horses, fencing and her husband. She has two kids with said man, both 4 years old, a boy and a girl, twins.”

This time, Corvo accepted his efforts to change the topic, nodded and let his gaze wander around the room, inspecting the clockwork inside the tower.

“I am familiar with fencing, but I prefer a sword and a dirty fight.” He sighed, ran his right hand through his hair and Garrett followed the movement with his eyes. “And my daughter likes horses more than I do, didn’t think that knowledge would come in handy again.”

Garrett smiled, pushed himself off the desk and quietly walked towards the window. It was high time he got on the roofs to do business. Get away from everything that wanted to seep into his skin. “Be careful and sleep tight, who knows when you get the chance again.”

He didn’t wait for his reply but quietly slipped out of the window into the night.